Their movements looked nothing fancy, with neither explosive bursts of speed nor complicated techniques.
Yet no one watching them underestimated them.
Anyone who understood basketball could see how perfectly the two synchronized their positioning on passes, the timing of their hands on catches, and even their breathing. Every transition was just fast enough, yet so steady it left an unsettling weight in the spectators' chests.
That chemistry had not been built overnight. It was proficiency honed through years on the court, through countless failed passes and catches.
Simple, yet grounded in a solidity others could not imitate.
It was no exaggeration to say they had woven the essence of movement and passing into every action.
Amid that fluid rhythm, Sakuragi Hanamichi's eye-catching red buzz cut looked especially out of place.
He stood a short distance from the basket, his brow furrowed tightly enough to crush a mosquito. His usually goofy eyes had narrowed to slits, fixed on the basketball in his hands. He remained motionless, as though nailed to the floor, looking as if he were searching for something hidden or pondering something, his mind turning over thoughts no one else could guess.
In the stands, Jin Soichiro watched Sakuragi Hanamichi, his brow creasing slightly as he asked in confusion, "Strange. Sakuragi's been standing there without moving since the start. What's he doing?"
Beside him, Kiyota Nobunaga followed his gaze toward Sakuragi Hanamichi. He snorted first, then curled his lip in undisguised contempt.
He deliberately raised his voice, as though afraid the others might not hear.
"That redheaded monkey? I bet he's sleepy. He might already be asleep."
Maki Shinichi said nothing. He simply folded his arms across his chest and watched the court intently.
His brow tightened almost imperceptibly, making it clear that he, too, found Sakuragi's behavior strange.