The Mastermind?

Third-year odds: 1:0.8

First-year odds: 1:2.6

Draw odds: 1:1

Sitting in his seat, staring at his phone, the campus forum displayed the odds for the three outcomes of the basketball game.

Even if some people believed in their own strength, the majority didn't have high hopes, huh?

Well, it made sense—few thought a single person could lead a team of freshmen to beat a group of upperclassmen.

But that was just in the eyes of ordinary people. If the bet stakes were too high, the school would take notice, so the game couldn't be rigged, and the school would probably send someone to watch.

Since most people didn't favor the first-years, yet the third-year odds hadn't dropped, that meant someone who knew their own strength was pulling the strings behind the scenes.

The chairman? Unlikely—that old man didn't like this kind of thing.

The Basketball Club members knew their own skill to some extent, but they wouldn't think they could lead the first-years to victory.

The match was proposed by the club captain, so the only ones who could suggest it to him while understanding their own limits were probably Nagumo Miyabi and Student Council President Horikita Manabu.

But Nagumo Miyabi probably didn't have the guts—he hadn't shown his face yet, definitely still hiding from me.

Horikita Manabu? He and most of the third-years in the Basketball Club were in the same class—was he planning to cash in?

The captain was generous enough to offer 3 million points, so it seemed Horikita Manabu had tipped him off.

So even though most people weren't optimistic, the third-year odds hadn't gone down.

They'd probably dumped a lot of points in to stabilize those odds, so even with little support, it didn't matter.

But whatever—points didn't mean much to me anyway. I'd have a friend bet on me winning at noon, just as a good deed. I hadn't found a chance to slip them some points yet.

Still, something felt off about my reasoning—was I missing something?

It didn't have to be someone who knew their own strength. There was another possibility: someone who believed in their own strength!

"Hey, hey, Gojo-kun, do you think we can win this afternoon's game?"

During lunch break, after eating, Kobashi Yume and Amikura Mako came with him to sit on the grass.

Facing Gojo Satoru, whose eyes were wrapped in bandages, Kobashi Yume asked curiously.

"We'll win."

Lying his head on Xiao Mako's lap, Gojo Satoru answered confidently, then added, "You can place bets on the forum—you'll earn some points."

"But I heard that among the first-years, only Gojo-kun is really strong. The others aren't even official players. Can we really beat the experienced third-years?"

"I believe in Satoru-kun! If it's Satoru-kun, he can definitely do it."

Resting her hands on Gojo Satoru's hair, Amikura Mako replied firmly.

Seeing her best friend so sure, Kobashi Yume couldn't argue anymore. She wasn't into gambling anyway—she'd just place a small bet to show support.

Gojo Satoru said nothing, lying still, thinking about how tomorrow was the weekend—maybe tonight could get a little intense!

It was already after school. He'd changed into his gym clothes but hadn't taken off the bandages over his eyes, only leaving half of one eye visible.

After all, showing nothing at all would be too weird. Unlike his blindfold, people might think he could see through it, just a bit dark. If someone could see with bandages wrapped around their eyes, no one would believe they were normal.

Walking into the gymnasium, it was already packed with people, but the school only had about three hundred students max, so it wasn't enough to fill the place.

Unlike club recruitment events with tables and displays, just the crowd alone didn't even feel cramped.

Many people noticed him and turned to look, but he ignored them, glancing only at Xiao Mako on the second-floor railing and Kamuro Masumi's group nearby before heading toward the court.

'Quite a crowd. The first-year leaders are mostly here, and Ryuen's eyes look a bit off.'

Seemed like some bettors didn't want him to win. Komiya and Kondo from the first-year team were both in Class C.

"You're here. You know the rules, right? I'll be the referee. Since the first-years only have six including you, I've picked four strong substitutes from the second-years."

Horikita Manabu looked at Gojo Satoru as he approached and laid out the basics.

"You can discuss tactics and starting lineup now. The game starts in ten minutes."

Horikita Manabu announced loudly, then walked off the court.

So he was involved after all—not a gym teacher, but the Student Council President acting as referee?

Then again, maybe not. The bet stakes were high enough that he might've just come for that reason.

Walking to the team's rest area, he didn't pay much attention to anyone, just said flatly, "I'll play power forward. You guys can do whatever you want, as long as you don't get in my way."

After speaking, he walked over and sat down on the bench.

"What the hell are you acting so cocky for?!"

Komiya glared at the arrogant Gojo Satoru, annoyed. If the club captain hadn't insisted, he wouldn't have even bothered to participate. Now these guys were about to get crushed by the third-years, with so many students watching.

But one second-year senior didn't seem bothered, smiling as he said, "It's fine. We're definitely going to win anyway. In fact, I can't even imagine Gojo losing."

Seeing a second-year senior trust Gojo Satoru that much, Komiya didn't dare say anything else. The other members, however, were a bit curious.

"Why do you think that, senpai? We only have three second-year regulars here; the rest of us can't even make the bench."

A Class A background member voiced the question.

"I faced Gojo back in middle school. Back then, he only played for 30 minutes. It was the semifinals of the tournament, but as long as he was on the court, we couldn't score a single point. I still can't believe that's something a human could do!"

As soon as he finished speaking, as if something occurred to him, he added a terrifying fact.

"And in middle school, his personal single-game record was 200 points!

Too bad he was wearing that blindfold when school started, so I didn't recognize him."

"It's true. I heard that team eventually lost all will to even try to stop him."

Seeing the disbelief on most faces, another senior chimed in.

Sudo Ken felt a bit helpless. No wonder he'd never run into him in middle school—his own team hadn't even made it past the round of 16, right?

"Just play normally out there. They say we're finding a few second-year substitutes, but as long as Gojo doesn't leave the court, you won't burn much stamina. He won't give up the ball to anyone."

'Damn! It's about to start now, and I don't have my phone on me. No time to notify Ryuen!'

Realizing something was off, Komiya kept shooting glances toward Ryuen, trying to signal him. But the other guy didn't seem to catch on, just staring at Gojo Satoru on the bench.

Komiya grew anxious. With the Student Council President watching and so many students around, any sneaky move would get him kicked out immediately.

And from the sound of it, Gojo Satoru wasn't going to work with them—he'd just score on his own.

'The Basketball Club seniors clearly know about Gojo's abilities, yet they still set up this match. Someone even opened an anonymous betting pool. As expected, no one in Class A at this school is an easy mark!'

The Class A members had already realized this wasn't just a game—it was a scam by the Basketball Club to harvest points from other students.

But on the surface, it was hard to spot the problem. Good thing Sakayanagi had advised them not to bet lightly.

If that was all there was to it, though, this school would be too simple.

Gojo Satoru, resting with his eyes closed nearby, took in every word without finding it strange.

If anything, he'd been a bit puzzled that no one recognized him when he'd crashed the Basketball Club's practice at the start of the term.