"This guy... He's even taller than me, but how is he so fast!?" Daisuke Narumi stared at Atsushi Murasakibara in horror, a bead of cold sweat trickling down his forehead.
"Ken-chan!" Murasakibara paid no attention to what Narumi was thinking. As soon as he landed, he hurled the ball downcourt.
"Murasakibara, after this game, you're going back to practice your long passes!" Ken Kaneki watched the pass fly off like a cannonball, torn between laughter and tears, then took off downcourt with his long legs.
"Huh? Did I throw it too hard?" Murasakibara belatedly glanced at his right hand. "I thought that was normal..."
Kaneki, of course, had no idea what Murasakibara was wondering. He sprinted downcourt, leaped high, and caught the ball in his arms. As he faced Wei Liu, who was braced for him, a playful smile crept across his face. Little did he know that this was how he and Liu, two of the three iron walls of Yosen High School in the future, would first meet.
"Senior Liu, there's an old Chinese saying: 'He who understands the times is a hero,'" Kaneki said clearly and precisely. "So you'd better step aside."
"What? Step aside? What are you—" Before Liu could finish, the world before his eyes seemed to dissolve into a flood of data made up of ones and zeroes. He struggled desperately to keep up with Kaneki, but couldn't stop his balance from giving way, and fell to the floor.
"Is this what Kaneki meant by seeing farther?" Seijuro Akashi watched Kaneki's every move intently. He seemed to have noticed something, and an unfamiliar sensation was growing wildly inside him.
"Pathetic struggle." Kaneki looked at Liu sprawled on the floor with pity, calmly gathered the ball, and shot. His composure made it seem as if he weren't playing a game at all, but practicing his shot. After completing the play, Kaneki turned and walked away. The gym fell silent; only the swish of the ball through the net reminded everyone that the game was still going on.
Seeing his players' morale sink to rock bottom, Shibuya First Junior High's coach hurriedly called a timeout.
"Dad, that blond-haired guy is so fast!" Reiko Aida pointed at Kaneki, curious. "He made that big guy from Shibuya First Junior High lose his balance in an instant! I never thought that little blondie could move so nimbly when he's so tall. And that purple-haired center, too."
"Kaneki's speed is truly astonishing, but speed wasn't the key to making that play work," Kagetora Aida said with a sigh. "He simply saw it."
"Saw it?" Reiko looked at Kagetora, puzzled. "Can you really do that?"
"Of course. There's more than one way," Kagetora replied, his expression complicated. "You either need eyes that can clearly pick up every tiny movement your opponent makes—even their breathing rhythm and the way their muscles tense and relax—or a brain that can accurately predict what they'll do next."
"The second one sounds more realistic," Reiko quipped. "The first one... Do eyes like that really exist?"
"Who knows?" Kagetora sighed.
"Still, Shibuya First Junior High's coach seems to have lost his temper," Reiko observed pointedly. "They're only down by five, but he's already this worked up."
"It's not just about the five points, Reiko." Kagetora smacked his lips. "Never mind. Let's watch the game."
"Zaza! You're all a bunch of useless losers!" Shibuya First Junior High's coach roared. "I didn't come to Tokyo to watch you get crushed by a bunch of first-years! Hayama, where's your speed? Where's your defense? Why didn't you double-team that blondie just now?"
"Coach..." Kotaro Hayama stammered, trying to explain, but the coach's furious shouting cut him off.
"And you, Daisuke Narumi! What kind of game are you playing? You lost the jump ball, then got your shot blocked even when they gave you room! Have you no shame?"
"Shibuya's coach seems pretty angry," Akashi remarked, watching the opposing team's bench with interest. "He's not exactly being kind."
"Like father, like son," Shintaro Midorima said with a disdainful snort. "Their coach is all show and no substance; the players are all bluster and bravado. Not a single one of them is any good."
"That's not entirely fair, Midorima. Their coach really is terrible, but a few of the players are interesting. Aomine," Kaneki said, turning to Daiki Aomine. According to his plan, this game would provide the fuel for Aomine's growth. "I tested Kotaro Hayama for you. He's about as good as you are right now. I already taught you how to deal with him, and I just showed you, too. The rest is up to you. You good?"
"Yeah, got it. Leave it to me." Aomine clenched both fists, his eyes burning with the desire to fight. He looked like a tiger about to break out of its cage.
The timer buzzed, the timeout ended, and the game resumed.
"Hey, dark-skinned guy." Hayama took a pass from Kazuhiko Yamanaka and looked at Aomine, who was grinning excitedly. "Get that blondie over here."
"First, my name is Ken Kaneki, not 'blondie.' Second, beat Aomine before you come after me!" Kaneki was speechless at Hayama insulting him right to his face. He'd switched defensive assignments, not gone deaf.
"Haha, so Ken-kun really does care!" Seeing Kaneki act so childishly on the court, a rare sight, Satsuki Momoi giggled.
"You heard him. Bring it on, Hayama Little Blondie!" Aomine slapped the floor excitedly, his gaze fixed on Hayama.
"Then I'll beat you first," Hayama said through gritted teeth, his face darkening. "And then I'll beat that blondie!"
As Hayama finished speaking, a rumbling roar filled the gym once again. Compared to Kaneki's Thunder Dribble, it was nothing, but to everyone from Shibuya First Junior High, it was still imposing.
"Force him left. Stay close." Aomine recalled the details Kaneki had told him as he stuck to Hayama's right side, steering him toward the side he was less comfortable with. Under Aomine's pressure, Hayama had no choice but to drive with his weaker left hand.
"Hey, dark-skinned guy, what are you muttering about?" Hayama asked irritably, watching Aomine mumble to himself.
"I'm analyzing your weaknesses." Aomine watched Hayama struggle to break through and answered honestly. "Just like Kaneki said, you're not good at mid- or long-range shots."
"Huh? I just think driving to score is more efficient." Aomine's words made Hayama flush. He abruptly stopped and gathered the ball, apparently ready to prove that his mid- and long-range shooting was just as good.
"Don't bother." Aomine crowded him, then stripped the ball away the instant Hayama raised it. "Kaneki also predicted that you might get riled up by what I said and stubbornly shoot right in front of me. It was exactly as he predicted." After the steal, Aomine barely even paused to set himself. Like a bullet out of a gun, he reached the other end of the court in the blink of an eye.
"Damn it!" Hayama chased after him, trying to stop the play.
"Too slow." Feeling Hayama pursuing him from behind, Aomine's lips curled into a slight smile. He gathered the ball and raised his hand.
"You're still a long way off!" Hayama leaped into the air, ready to block the shot.
"Hayama, don't!" Yamanaka sensed something was wrong and tried to warn him, but it was already too late. Hayama slammed into Aomine in midair.
"A foul's fine. At least I can keep him from making the shot outright," Hayama thought through gritted teeth. "But why does he look... amused? Could he still—"
"Don't look so surprised." Knocked off balance in midair, Aomine grinned at Hayama's twisted expression and tossed the ball toward the basket as if without a care.
Thump, swish!
Tweet! Green Team, Number 6, shooting foul! The basket counts, and one free throw! The referee's whistle sounded just as the ball banked off the backboard and dropped through the hoop.
"You bastard..." Hayama glared at Aomine, his eyes bloodshot.
"Man, Kaneki's way of floating in the air and casually tossing the ball in is really hard to imitate." Half relieved and half taunting, Aomine looked at Hayama. "Looks like I got lucky, Hayama Little Blondie."
Sorry, everyone. This chapter's a little late. I made some major revisions.
P.S. Of the Miracle Generation, only Atsushi Murasakibara showed a relatively dominant performance in his first year, crushing Teppei Kiyoshi. Kise hadn't started playing basketball yet, while Midorima was still just a regular three-point shooter who never missed—he wasn't as monstrous as he became after he blossomed. Aomine went toe-to-toe with some guy named Inoue from Kami High School. Akashi hadn't awakened the Emperor Eye yet; he was just a point guard with excellent fundamentals. So I personally think it's normal for Kotaro Hayama, who was a year older than Aomine, to be about as good as first-year Aomine. The difference lies in how they'd develop from there.
Before you continue