Newcomer Selection: The Supple Dance

The noise in the gymnasium hadn't fully subsided yet, the shockwaves from Bai Ze You's jaw-dropping game-winner still faintly vibrating through the air. Sweat soaked the tips of his silver-gray hair, plastering them to his smooth forehead; his chest rose and fell slightly with each breath, but those amber eyes had already returned to their usual calm, as if the person who had pulled off that extreme escape under a triple-team and finished the play wasn't him at all.

"Bai Ze-kun! That was incredible!" Kobayashi's face was flushed with excitement as he slapped You's shoulder hard, "How did you pull off that last shot? I thought you were gonna crash!"

"Yeah, yeah! That spin... and the mid-air twist... it was like acrobatics!" Takahashi was waving his arms around, mimicking the moves, his eyes full of admiration.

You just twitched the corner of his mouth, revealing a faint, barely-there curve that couldn't quite be called a smile. "Lucky," he said curtly, bending down to pick up the basketball that had rolled across the floor, his fingertips habitually feeling the familiar texture of the grip. The joy of victory flickered through his heart for a moment, then was replaced by a deeper craving—this was just the beginning; the threshold of Teiko was far beyond this.

His gaze swept across the sidelines without a trace. Nijimura Shūzō's tall, sturdy figure still stood there, his sharp eyes like searchlights, scanning every standout freshman on the court one by one, naturally including him. That look was no longer pure scrutiny, but carried a burning interest like discovering a new continent, as if evaluating a freshly unearthed, razor-edged ore. You could even feel the heavy weight of that gaze lingering on him, carrying both assessment and a silent recognition and expectation.

However, another gaze carried a completely different aura, like a tangible thorn, firmly stuck into his back. You didn't need to turn around to pinpoint its source—the shadow at the entrance to the second-floor viewing platform. That figure with messy dark blue hair and dark skin hadn't left. Aomine Daiki had his arms crossed, his body relaxed against the wall, his posture carrying a beast-like laziness, but those deep blue eyes were like a hawk locking onto prey—sharp, direct, filled with undisguised curiosity and a primal, almost challenging desire. That gaze pierced through the gaps in the crowd, carrying a scorching heat, branding itself directly onto You.

You didn't immediately respond to that aggressive stare. He calmly turned around, lifting his head as if just stretching his neck naturally. Their eyes met in the air, no words, no expressions, only silent electricity colliding. The corner of Aomine's mouth seemed to twitch upward again, revealing an even wilder, more provocative smile. Deep in You's amber pupils, a faint, almost imperceptible glimmer quietly lit up, like molten lava churning beneath a dormant volcano's crater, then was immediately covered by deeper calm. He gave a slight nod, an extremely small, emotionless gesture, but it seemed to say: I see you.

The short break ended. The upperclassman in charge of the selection blew a sharp whistle, its tone carrying undeniable authority.

"Freshmen who passed the first round of matches, gather immediately at the center of the court! Next up is the basic physical fitness test!"

The atmosphere instantly tensed again. The freshmen who had made it through were no ordinary players, and now they were all rubbing their hands together. The physical fitness test was the most brutal touchstone in basketball; it didn't care about flashy skills, only the most essential endurance, explosive power, and willpower. It would strip away all the fancy trappings and lay bare the true quality of talent.

First event: suicides. From baseline to opposite baseline, ten consecutive sprints. It demanded speed, but even more, it demanded the ultimate test of body control during each sharp stop and turn.

Whistle! Over a dozen figures shot out like arrows from a bow, the wooden floor groaning harshly under the violent friction of their soles. You's figure wasn't the fastest to start, but his rhythm was unusually stable. Each time he sprinted to the end, his astonishing flexibility and core strength came into play. Others needed an extra step or two to complete the stop and turn; he seemed to absorb and convert the violent kinetic energy in an instant, his body twisting impossibly in a tiny space, pivoting on his toes, then springing back like a compressed spring with minimal loss and maximum efficiency! His movements were so fluid they seemed to have no inertial resistance, each turn carrying a unique rhythm, as if he wasn't being tested but performing an elegant dance. After a few sets, those opponents with initially explosive power were already breathing heavily, their steps growing heavy, while You's speed barely dropped, maintaining that steady, unsettling rhythm.

On the sidelines, Nijimura Shūzō's gaze was almost locked on You the entire time. He saw it more clearly than anyone. "Amazing hip flexibility and core stability... explosive power might not be top-tier, but this instantaneous kinetic energy conversion efficiency... and that absolute control over his body... it's like a machine built for basketball!" he muttered to himself, his eyes gleaming. This ability to micro-adjust body posture at high speed was the dream talent for top-tier drivers and defenders—it could avoid collisions, create tiny shooting windows, and maximize the deception of feints!

Second event: dynamic footwork agility test. A complex ladder pattern, requiring the fastest completion of specified footwork combinations.

This was the ultimate test of coordination, rhythm, and instantaneous reaction speed. The freshmen moved like they were navigating a maze, their steps messy, many stumbling. When it was You's turn, he took a deep breath and stepped into the ladder area. His body seemed to lose weight, or perhaps it was precisely controlled by invisible threads. Forward crossover, backward crossover, slide step, single-leg hop... all kinds of complex footwork combinations flowed under his feet like water, as if they were instincts carved into his bones. Each time his foot precisely landed in a square of the ladder, his center of gravity shifted smoothly at high speed without a single unnecessary sway. His movements were so fast they almost left afterimages, yet so clear they looked like slow-motion replays, filled with control down to the millimeter. Even more astonishing, he wasn't mechanically completing the moves; he naturally added tiny rhythm changes at high speed, each pause and acceleration perfectly timed, as if he were playing a rhapsody of footsteps that only he could hear.

"Monster..." a freshman who had just finished the test, panting heavily, couldn't help but mutter a curse as he watched You's light figure, his tone full of helplessness.

"This balance... it's like a cat dancing on ice..." another freshman murmured, his eyes filled only with awe.

The upperclassmen exchanged glances, all seeing the gravity and a hint of excitement in each other's eyes. Teiko needed geniuses, and the silver-haired kid in front of them displayed a talent that was completely different from Aomine's explosive power or Murasakibara's absolute size dominance—a talent of skill and body control aesthetics.

Third event: core strength and endurance—plank hold.

Time ticked by second by second. Sweat streamed like small rivers from every freshman's forehead, neck, and back, pooling into tiny puddles on the smooth floor. Arms began to tremble uncontrollably, abs felt like they were being branded with a hot iron, each breath pulled at aching muscles, and willpower teetered on the edge of extreme pain. One, two, three... one by one, they couldn't hold on, their bodies crashing heavily to the floor with dull thuds, leaving only the raspy, bellows-like gasps for air.

You's body was also taut like a bowstring, sweat soaking through his red-and-white training uniform, clinging to the smooth lines of his muscles. His arms were trembling too, but his amber eyes were fixed on a tiny crack in the floor ahead, his gaze terrifyingly focused. His core area—the deep muscle groups of his abs, back, and waist—was like the toughest alloy spring, steadily and continuously outputting strength under immense pressure, maintaining his body's near-perfect horizontal posture. Though his breathing was rapid, it kept a strange, deep rhythm, each inhale seeming to refill his collapsing muscle groups with power. Time seemed to pass unusually slowly for him. When the last struggling freshman also gave up, leaving only You, the entire gymnasium's gaze focused on him. The upperclassman looked at the stopwatch, surprise and approval in his eyes.

"Alright! Time's up! Full marks!" The upperclassman finally called a stop, a hint of respect in his voice.

You's tense body suddenly relaxed, and he slowly, controllably lowered himself, as if his bones had been pulled out, his forehead pressing against the cool floor, breathing heavily, each inhale carrying a burning pain, but a satisfied curve tugged at the corner of his mouth. He had done it; in the pure contest of will and endurance, he had stood last.

On the sidelines, Nijimura Shūzō nodded slightly. The results of the basic physical fitness test confirmed his initial judgment. This Bai Ze You not only possessed flashy techniques but also the physical foundation to support them—severely underestimated assets: top-tier flexibility, top-tier core stability, top-tier coordination and balance! These qualities, in top-level competition, often tipped the scales of victory more than simple running and jumping ability!

After a short rest and water break, the selection entered its final and most brutal stage: 5v5 full-court scrimmage. This was no longer a single display of skill or fitness, but a comprehensive test of overall ability, on-the-fly judgment, team awareness, and even the will to win. The freshmen were randomly shuffled and regrouped.

You looked around, scanning his new teammates. One was short but built like a compact cannonball, with sharp eyes; another was tall and lean, with an astonishing wingspan. And in the opposing lineup stood the yellow-haired freshman (Watanabe) he had nutmegged in the 3v3, now staring at him with a mix of venom and wariness. What made You's pupils contract even more was that he also saw an unusually tall and burly figure in the opposing team, almost a head taller than everyone else, like a silent mountain—Murasakibara Atsushi! Those lazy purple eyes were half-open, half-closed, as if he couldn't be bothered with much around him, casually chewing on a Umaibo he'd brought along, but his massive frame and the unintentional pressure he radiated made everyone near him feel their breath catch.

The whistle sounded like a starting gun!

The intensity of the scrimmage instantly jumped to another level. Murasakibara Atsushi's presence was like a moving Wall of Sighs; as long as he stood under the basket, it practically declared absolute dominance of the paint. You's compact-cannonball teammate (Ishida) tried to drive to the rim several times, only to have Murasakibara casually swat the ball away like a fly with his seemingly lazy giant hand, sending both ball and man tumbling to the floor. The overwhelming power gap was despairing.

"Tch..." Ishida rubbed his numb arm, his face grim. Offense in the paint was completely shut down.

Possession changed. Watanabe (yellow hair) brought the ball up, and when he saw You defending him, a flash of ruthlessness crossed his eyes. He'd learned from last time, not easily fooled by feints, using his stronger teammate as a screen to force space, then a crossover and acceleration to try and blow past You!

But just as Watanabe's shoulder slammed into him, You's body displayed an unbelievable roll-off technique. Instead of resisting, he followed the force of the collision, his entire body "floating" backward like a supple willow branch, cleverly deflecting most of the impact! At the same time, his left hand, pressed against Watanabe's body, shot out like a viper, his fingertips precisely poking the bottom of the ball just as Watanabe was dribbling it up!

"Smack!"

The ball instantly went loose!

"Steal!" someone on the sidelines shouted.

Watanabe felt his hand come up empty and turned back in shock, only to see You's silver-gray figure already ghosting past him, scooping up the loose ball and charging like the wind toward the other half-court! Fast break!

"Stop him!" Watanabe roared in frustration.

The fastest defender on the opposing team immediately stepped up, spreading his arms to try and slow You down. At full sprint, You's upper body suddenly made an extremely convincing fake drive to the left! The defender's center of gravity instantly shifted!

The moment the weight shifted, You's right hand, controlling the ball, flicked like a snake's tongue, the ball tracing a bizarre "V" trajectory in the tiny space, somehow passing behind his own back to his left hand! At the same time, using his left foot as a pivot, he executed a lightning-fast spin turn on the spot! The defender only saw a blur, felt a gust of wind brush past him, and by the time he tried to adjust and chase, it was already too far!

"Behind-the-back dribble into a spin! So fast!"

"Another one of those slippery moves!"

You shook off the defender, leaving only open court ahead. He didn't slow down, driving straight to the basket! But just as he leaped into the air, ready for an easy layup, a massive shadow like a dark cloud enveloped the entire rim! Murasakibara Atsushi! He had somehow sprinted back from the other side at full speed, his enormous body arriving like a meteor, jumping high, blotting out the sky! His terrifying wingspan and giant hands seemed to block every possible shooting angle! The oppressive pressure, like a tangible wave, instantly swallowed You!

"It's over! He's gonna get blocked!" Kobayashi shouted from the sidelines. Everyone seemed to see the ball being mercilessly swatted away.

In mid-air, You's pupils suddenly contracted! Murasakibara's massive figure filled his entire field of vision, sealing off all conventional shooting paths. Time seemed to stretch, his body continuing to rise under the immense inertia, about to crash into that wall of flesh! In that split second, at the critical moment, You's superhuman flexibility and powerful core strength exploded once more!

His originally extended layup posture forcibly changed in mid-air! His waist and abs twisted as if gripped by an invisible hand, his entire body folding and curling to the left in the air! His incredible air time ability bought him precious fractions of a second! At the same time, his right hand, holding the ball, in a state of extreme distortion and imbalance, relying on muscle memory from countless practices and near-instinctive ball sense, suddenly pressed his wrist down, changing the layup into a floater! The ball, with heavy backspin, traced an extremely bizarre, low arc almost parallel to the ground, barely grazing Murasakibara's fingertips, dangerously slipping past the reach of that sky-covering giant hand!

Murasakibara's fingertips could even feel the airflow disturbance from the ball's high-speed spin!

"Shua!"

The ball softly kissed the backboard, spinning into the net!

"Good shot--!!!" The entire gymnasium erupted in even louder shouts and cheers than before! That shot was too extreme! Under Murasakibara Atsushi's absolute height advantage, he had actually scored with such unbelievable flexibility and mid-air adjustment!

"Uwah... almost touched it..." Murasakibara landed, looking at the rolling ball, seeming a bit surprised, for the first time fully opening those lazy purple eyes, with a hint of confusion and scrutiny, landing on You, who had just landed, his chewing motion pausing for a moment.

You staggered slightly as he landed; that extreme mid-air dodge and twisted exertion had nearly drained the strength from his core. He steadied himself, didn't celebrate, just panted lightly, but his amber eyes were startlingly bright, staring straight at Murasakibara Atsushi's massive form without any sign of backing down.

"Interesting..." Murasakibara muttered, his voice low and indistinct, but the laziness in his eyes seemed to fade just a little.

The subsequent match became a full showcase of You's individual talent colliding with Murasakibara Atsushi's Absolute Strength. Using his teammates' screens, You constantly roamed the perimeter. His off-ball movement was equally deceptive—every backdoor cut, every change of direction was so realistic it left defenders spinning. After receiving the pass, his unpredictable feints and driving skills thrived even more in open space. Facing Murasakibara's guarded paint, he stopped forcing his way in, instead leveraging his superb balance and floater touch to nail high-difficulty step-back jumpers and quick floaters near the free-throw line. His shooting form wasn't as textbook-consistent as Midori's, and his release point even seemed erratic at times, but with soft touch and strong core strength keeping his body stable through off-balance moments, his accuracy was astonishing.

And when Murasakibara was drawn out to the perimeter, You keenly seized the gaps, delivering surgical precision with bounce passes or lobs to assist his freed teammates in easy scores.

Watanabe tried several times to reclaim his ground, using his body to power through You, but You always countered with nimble footwork and clever deflection—either leaving him with nowhere to exert his strength or baiting his reckless charges into offensive fouls. Watanabe was so frustrated he could spit blood, his glare at You practically shooting flames.

The match ended with You's full-court pass that pierced through three defenders, precisely finding a cutting teammate for an assist. The score was set. Though You's team was completely suppressed in the paint by Murasakibara, they ultimately won by a narrow margin thanks to his strong perimeter gravity, steady output, and brilliant playmaking.

The moment the whistle blew, the atmosphere in the gymnasium reached a new peak. Though it was only a freshman tryout, the clash of talent on display—especially Bai Ze You's dazzling skills and mind-boggling body control, and Murasakibara Atsushi's suffocating Absolute Strength—was enough to make every spectator's blood boil.

"Monsters... they're all monsters..."

"That Bai Ze You... he's like an eel, you just can't catch him!"

"Murasakibara's terrifying too—standing under the basket makes you afraid to go in..."

The freshmen buzzed with chatter, their gazes at You and Murasakibara filled with awe and a hint of helplessness.

The upperclassmen's expressions were heavier and more excited. They knew Teikō's future would become even more terrifying with these new additions. Nijimura Shūzō stood by the court, his face expressionless, but the tightness of his lips and the fire burning in his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil. Bai Ze You... the things this kid had shown far exceeded his expectations! That ability to blend flexibility, balance, and deception into one—its value in real combat was immeasurable!

Just then, a crisp, pleasant female voice tinged with curiosity and excitement rang out from the slightly noisy sideline:

"Wow! That mid-air folding floater was amazing! And those feints... the data... the data can't keep up with his Rhythm Change at all!"

You followed the sound. A charming figure had appeared by the court. Pink hair tied into a lively ponytail, fair cheeks flushed from exertion, bright cherry-pink eyes fixed unblinkingly on him, a notepad and pen in hand—clearly she'd been recording diligently. It was Momoi Satsuki.

You paused slightly. Momoi's gaze was clear and focused, carrying pure appreciation and curiosity for basketball skills—completely different from the others' awe, wariness, or scrutiny. That look stirred a strange ripple in his heart.

Momoi seemed to realize her voice was a bit loud, sheepishly sticking out her tongue. Then she mustered her courage, aimed a vibrant, spring-cherry-blossom-like smile at You, and pumped her little fist: "Great game, Bai Ze-kun!"

That smile was pure and warm, like a ray of sunlight piercing the fierce competitive atmosphere of the gym. A faint ripple passed through You's amber eyes. He gave a slight nod toward Momoi. It was the first truly warm, clear smile he'd shown since entering Teikō.

That smile, like a pebble dropped into a calm Lake Surface, stirred entirely different ripples in someone's eyes.

"Hmph."

A low, clearly displeased snort came from the second-floor viewing area. Aomine Daiki had somehow already stood up, hands in his pockets, his deep blue eyes coldly sweeping over the silver-haired figure receiving Momoi's smile, then glancing at her radiant expression. The laziness on his face was gone, replaced by the displeasure of a beast whose territory had been intruded upon. He didn't linger. Turning, he strode away from the second-floor viewing area with an oppressive, stay-away aura, his unruly deep blue hair cutting an arrogant arc through the air.

You naturally heard that snort and felt the brief chill of that cold gaze. His smile didn't fade, but in the depths of his amber eyes, the warmth lit by Momoi's smile quietly settled, replaced by a deeper, well-like, serene focus.

Teikō's stage was vast, but it seemed destined from the start to be anything but calm. Nijimura's scrutiny, Aomine's hostility, Murasakibara's indifference, and... Momoi's sudden cherry-blossom smile... all of this was just the beginning. Bai Ze You withdrew his gaze, bent down, and picked up his basketball bag. The tryouts were over, but the real challenge was just beginning.