Haizaki had a hell of an appetite—he could "digest" anything.
Possession changed hands. Fukuda Sōgō's offense was shut down by Rakuzan's compact, airtight defense.
With the shot clock ticking down, their shooting guard took a contested mid-range jumper—but missed.
Nebuya Eikichi leapt up, his hulking frame clearing out space, towering over Fukuda's center.
"Muscle rebound!"
"Do you only have the word 'muscle' in your vocabulary?"
Just as Nebuya was about to grab the board, Haizaki suddenly soared in from behind and snatched the ball with one hand.
Landing hard, he shouldered past Nebuya and slammed the ball into the hoop using the exact same power-based technique Nebuya was known for.
Nebuya's eyes widened in shock… and then gleamed with something close to admiration.
"Your muscles… I acknowledge them!"
…Huh?
Haizaki's face twitched.
What the hell is wrong with this guy?
Still, Akashi remained calm.
After getting the ball in, he simply resumed orchestrating the team's next possession, showing no interest in scoring himself.
As the game progressed, the scoreboard climbed steadily, the two teams trading baskets.
No matter how Rakuzan scored, Haizaki was always right there—matching it blow for blow with identical moves.
And slowly, the crowd began to realize who he was.
Haizaki had quit the basketball team in his second year at Teikō, but his presence wasn't erased.
He had played official matches, he'd worn the first-string jersey. He had been a real member of the Generation of Miracles—before the public ever heard the name.
And now, his true ability was starting to reveal itself.
Without anyone noticing, Haizaki had stripped the entire Rakuzan starting lineup—everyone except Akashi—of their signature skills.
Clang!
Mibuchi Reo bricked another shot.
A clean look, confident release, and yet… it was a complete airball.
"What the hell?"
Once or twice could be bad luck.
But a third? A fourth?
And it wasn't just Mibuchi.
Even Hayama was making unforced errors—at one point he tripped over his own foot while dribbling.
"This… is Haizaki's ability. This is what he calls 'Pillage.'"
"But how does it work?"
The Seirin players struggled to understand.
Kise's Perfect Copy made sense—it was raw talent.
But stealing someone's skill?
That was borderline broken.
"The core of it," someone explained, "is copying the opponent's skill set—but executing it with his own rhythm."
"His footwork, timing, release—it's textbook. When he uses your own moves against you, you subconsciously adapt to his rhythm instead of your own. That subtle shift is what breaks you."
"So Rakuzan's screwed?"
"Screwed? Not quite. Actually… quite the opposite."
Tendou shook his head from the clubroom.
"Haizaki's strong. Strong enough to be worth recruiting."
"But his talent still falls short of the Generation of Miracles."
...
On TV, the first quarter was coming to a close.
Rakuzan's three Uncrowned Kings were visibly shaken.
None of them expected this kind of pressure from someone who wasn't even in the "official" Miracle lineup.
Teikō quality, through and through.
Still, none of them panicked.
Because they had Akashi.
...
"You're the last one, Akashi."
Haizaki's voice was sharp.
"Too proud to get your hands dirty, huh?"
Akashi dribbled calmly in place, emotionless as ever.
The crowd held their breath.
Until now, Akashi had played the role of director, not scorer.
His three lieutenants had bulldozed their way to the quarterfinals, while Akashi merely pulled the strings.
Most people still had no clue what Akashi's real strength was.
"So what if I'm arrogant?" Haizaki spat.
"I'm not here to kiss up to you. I'm here to bury you."
He would never forget the day Akashi expelled him from the team.
That moment defined him.
Today, he'd finish what he started—and show Tendou, too, that he didn't need anyone.
Akashi didn't reply.
Thump.
The sound of the ball hitting hardwood grew faster.
Akashi increased his dribbling pace.
Haizaki's eyes sharpened.
Say what you want about his mouth—he never underestimated Akashi. Not for a second.
Thump.
Akashi took a step forward.
Haizaki moved quickly to block him, sliding side to side to stay in front, constantly adjusting his stance.
Their footwork was razor sharp.
Each motion surgical.
Top-tier one-on-one.
Haizaki stayed focused.
Then… something felt off.
His legs started to weaken.
Not mentally—physically.
He was losing control of his lower body.
The sensation crept in until his legs simply gave out, and he collapsed to his knees on the court.
...
"You thought stealing Mibuchi's technique, or Hayama's, was enough to challenge me?"
"Those abilities were merely gifts. Let me show you what real power looks like."
"This is the absolute difference between us."
And with that, Akashi walked past him.
Not ran—walked.
Calmly.
Like Tendou's infamous "casual stroll back on defense," Akashi's slow, deliberate pace was a mic-drop.
...
"Damn… that was so arrogant. I love it!"
"I've realized something: the stronger the Miracle, the harder they flex."
"Tendou walks on defense. Akashi walks past people. These guys are absurd."
"Akashi is so over-the-top. But I can't stop watching."
"Don't call him 'Akashi.' He's the Emperor!"
The comment section exploded.
Akashi's character was divisive when the series first aired.
Before he debuted, he barely cracked the top twenty in popularity polls.
But after Season 3 launched—and Akashi finally stepped onto the court—his popularity skyrocketed.
He even reached #1 at one point and has remained a top-three favorite ever since.
...
"That bastard…"
Haizaki struggled to get back on his feet.
By the time he did, Akashi had already finished a smooth, easy layup.
But Haizaki wasn't done.
Fukuda's offense resumed, and now Akashi was guarding him.
The Prince of Edge had turned executioner.
No more games.
"Clap!"
Haizaki's signature lightning-speed dribble was instantly sliced through—Akashi cut the ball away clean, like a scalpel.
"So this… this is the Emperor's Eye?!"
...
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