The community park's basketball court looked a little worn beneath the afternoon sun.
Several casually dressed men who looked like street punks were playing a fairly relaxed three-on-three game on one half of the court.
Kawamoto Kazuki walked straight over.
He stopped at the edge of the court and bowed slightly, his tone calm and polite:
"Excuse me, sorry to interrupt."
"Could we borrow the basketball?"
"We won't take long."
Perhaps it was his unusually proper attitude.
Perhaps it was the intangible pressure of his tall frame.
The street punks exchanged glances.
One of them hesitated, but tossed him the basketball anyway.
"Thanks."
Kawamoto caught the ball and offered a simple word of thanks.
He took the ball to the empty half of the court beside them and bounced it lightly twice.
Then, under everyone's gaze, he began to dribble.
At first, he simply dribbled in place.
But suddenly, in an instant, his rhythm changed sharply!
The basketball seemed to come alive in Kawamoto's hands.
It darted rapidly back and forth between his legs, producing a rhythmic series of thumps.
With almost no warning, an incredibly smooth behind-the-back dribble flowed into a crossover in front.
The basketball seemed glued between his palm and the ground.
Just those few brief dribbles.
Everyone present, including Hanamichi Sakuragi, who thought he already understood basketball.
All of them stared wide-eyed, their faces filled with incredulous shock!
Was this really the same Kawamoto Kazuki whose dribbling had looked stiff and sluggish back in the gym?!
The dribbling before them was so fast it left afterimages, the player and ball working together seamlessly.
That effortless mastery made it feel as though they were watching a professional player's warm-up!
Kawamoto Kazuki stopped dribbling, his face still largely expressionless.
He looked at the still-stunned Hanamichi Sakuragi and said evenly, "Just five baskets."
His words snapped Sakuragi out of his daze, and a surge of defiance immediately swept away his surprise.
He forcefully stripped off his school uniform jacket and slammed it onto the ground, revealing the black tank top underneath.
He marched up to Kawamoto, planted himself in a low stance, and spread his long arms. "Come on! Show this genius what you've really got!"
Standing beyond the three-point line, Kawamoto slowly dribbled closer, facing Sakuragi's enthusiastic but hole-ridden defense.
"The first basket,"
He spoke quietly, yet his voice reached everyone's ears clearly. "I'll show you how important basic dribbling is in basketball."
With that, rather than accelerating into a drive, he moved as though he were simply walking along.
At an almost leisurely pace.
He dribbled toward the basket Sakuragi was guarding.
"Wh... what?"
Sakuragi froze. An attack this slow was practically an insult!
"Go ahead and try to steal it."
Kawamoto spoke again.
"Damn it! Don't look down on me!"
Sakuragi roared and lunged at the basketball in Kawamoto's hand like a tiger pouncing on its prey, his arms flailing.
Kawamoto simply turned his back and dribbled, easily keeping it away from Sakuragi's hands.
Unwilling to back down, Sakuragi lunged for the basketball again.
Yet what happened next struck every spectator as unbelievable.
No matter what angle Sakuragi came from, or how much strength and speed he put into his steal attempts.
Kawamoto merely made minute shifts in his center of gravity, adjusted the angle of his wrist, and moved his feet ever so slightly.
The basketball always evaded Sakuragi's fingertips by a hair and returned securely to Kawamoto's control.
His movements still looked slow, without any explosive speed.
Yet at every crucial moment, the simplest dribbling moves neutralized all of Sakuragi's attempts to snatch the ball.
Sakuragi gave it everything he had, lunging left and grabbing right, but he could not even graze the ball.
Instead, Kawamoto's seemingly slow but precise footwork dictated his rhythm, making him look like a puppet being toyed with.
Just like that, Kawamoto practically strolled from beyond the three-point line to the basket.
Meanwhile, Sakuragi had begun to grow incredibly agitated after coming up empty again and again.
Once he reached the basket.
Kawamoto did not even jump, merely sending up an utterly effortless little floater.
Swish!
The basketball dropped cleanly through the net.
1 : 0.
A deathly silence fell over the sidelines, followed by cries of astonishment that could no longer be contained.
"Y-you've got to be kidding, right?" Nozomi Takamiya's mouth hung open.
"That redheaded kid can't even touch the ball!" The street punks were dumbfounded too.
"It's like an adult playing with a little kid..." Chuichiro Noma murmured.
Yohei Mito's gaze was grave.
He could tell they were not even remotely on the same level.
Kawamoto's control over the ball had reached an utterly unbelievable level.
Sakuragi gritted his teeth, his face flushed bright red from humiliation, anger, and exertion.
"I... I just let my guard down!"
"Again!"
Kawamoto retrieved the ball and walked beyond the three-point line once more.
"The second basket..."
He said calmly, "This time, fakes."
Once again, he did not immediately launch into a high-speed drive, instead beginning to use a variety of shooting and driving fakes.
Feints of his shoulders, deception in his gaze, shifts in his center of gravity...
Every fake was so lifelike that it could pass for the real thing!
Never mind a basketball rookie like Sakuragi-even Takenori Akagi or Kaede Rukawa would probably have struggled to tell the real moves from the fakes in an instant!
Sakuragi fell completely into Kawamoto's rhythm.
The first fake drew him into the air, jumping straight up for a block, only for Kawamoto to slip easily past him.
The second left him off balance, nearly falling over.
The third made him misjudge the direction of the drive, and Kawamoto blew straight past him...
In just a few brief exchanges of fakes, Sakuragi was left running in circles.
Kawamoto seized another opening and sent the ball into the basket with an almost identical soft floater.
2 : 0.
"Damn it!"
Sakuragi hammered his own head with his fist, frustration threatening to overwhelm him.
"The third basket!"
Kawamoto's voice remained level. "Let's use some real skill."
He took a deep breath, his gaze sharpening slightly.
Sensing the change in the atmosphere, Sakuragi immediately brought his full attention to bear and braced himself.
His eyes locked firmly on Kawamoto and the basketball in his hand.
But-
Almost at the very instant Sakuragi reflexively blinked...
Kawamoto moved!
Gone were his earlier leisurely steps; this was as swift as lightning!
There were no flashy fakes, only supreme starting speed and the explosive power to leave his opponent completely behind in a single step!
Sakuragi's brain had not even had time to process the fact that he had moved.
His body remained stiffly in its defensive stance, and all he felt was a gust of wind sweeping past his side!
By the time he whipped his head around, all he saw was Kawamoto Kazuki's back as he jumped effortlessly and gently laid the ball into the basket.
From behind him came the crisp swish of the basketball passing through the net.
3 : 0.
The entire court was silent.
Yohei Mito, Nozomi Takamiya, Chuichiro Noma, Yuji Okusu, and the street punks nearby all looked as though they had been struck by an immobilization spell.
Everyone stood frozen in place, their faces filled with utter shock!
Never mind Sakuragi-even watching from the sidelines, they had not clearly seen how Kawamoto had started moving.
They had only felt a blur before their eyes, and the attack was already over!
Fast!
Too fast!
He was a monster!
Hanamichi Sakuragi stood there in a daze.
He looked at the basketball as it landed.
Then he looked at Kawamoto Kazuki walking expressionlessly back to the three-point line.
For the first time, he clearly recognized.
Perhaps an immense, despair-inducing gulf lay between him and a true expert.