"Hey, hey, hey! Is this for real? What's up with that kid?"
"So strong! Who is he?"
"How can a little kid go toe-to-toe with someone that much older? Is the older guy just going easy on him?"
"No way. I've been watching for a while—he's already gone up against several others. It's hard to believe, but this kid's legit."
"This is unbelievable. Looks like Kanagawa's got a future basketball prodigy."
—
Bang...
Bang...
Bang...
A heated match is underway on an old outdoor basketball court.
Normally, a scuffle or competition on such a play wouldn't draw much attention.
But today's scene had stopped every passerby in their tracks.
Two figures—one large, one small—darted back and forth across the dusty field.
The taller one was around sixteen or seventeen—maybe even eighteen—and already had the composure of a grown man.
But what really caught everyone's attention was the smaller one.
Yes, the kid.
A little boy, fair-skinned, around 130 cm tall—just the size of an average six- or seven-year-old. He had a youthful face and carried an infectious energy.
A wide grin played constantly on his lips, as if he could burst into laughter at any moment.
But what truly stood out—what was downright eerie—were his blue hair and eyes.
His dark-blue hair shimmered under the sunlight, giving off an unusual but captivating glow.
And his eyes—deep blue like still water or bright sapphires under a starlit sky—held an allure you couldn't look away from.
Most puzzling, though, was the maturity that flickered in those eyes now and then—calm, sharp, focused. The kind of gaze you'd never expect from a child.
The contrast between that look and his innocent face created a strange, almost surreal dissonance.
And yet, here he was, competing against someone nearly double his size. The image was like watching a child go up against a giant.
That very contrast made people stop and stare.
The boy was dribbling—fast, tight control. Then he pulled up sharply, changed direction, and make a jump shot.
Bang...
Brush...
The ball kissed the backboard and dropped cleanly through the hoop.
It all happened so fast, the older opponent had no chance to react.
No clumsiness, no hesitation. His stop-and-go movements were smoother than most adults could manage.
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd.
The boy's serious face cracked into a proud smile.
That was his fourth win today.
As he caught his breath, a panel only he could see suddenly popped up in front of him—bright, digital, and full of data.
[Name: Qing Junce]
Age: 7
Height: 131 cm
Weight: 36 kg
[Character Template: Aomine Daiki (15%)]
[Talents: Super-Speed Dribbling (Locked), Formless Shot (Locked)]
[Wildness: Black Panther (Locked)]
[Zone: Locked]
Looking at the floating panel, Qing Junce couldn't help but feel emotional.
Seven years. It had already been seven years.
His name was still Qing Junce—just like in his past life.
Whether this was reincarnation or transmigration, he had no clue.
He only remembered opening his eyes as a newborn baby, surrounded by strangers speaking a language he didn't understand.
He wasn't sure what had happened. All he knew was that the world around him looked like Japan in the 1970s or 80s.
Eventually, he learned they were in Kanagawa.
Nothing strange happened at first—until he turned three.
That's when his family bought him his first basketball.
The moment his hand touched the ball, a system interface suddenly popped up in his mind.
Confused. Excited. Intrigued.
When he read the message on the screen, he was stunned:
[Loading Character Template: Aomine Daiki]
[Progress: 1%... 5%... 10%...]
He knew who Aomine was. A major character from Kuroko's Basketball, one of the legendary Generation of Miracles.
And now… somehow, he was fusing with Aomine's character template.
Nothing major happened after that, but the system would update its progress whenever he played basketball.
Was it the system's influence? Was it the character template reshaping his personality?
He didn't know.
He just kept playing basketball—nonstop, obsessively, instinctively. And now, he was here.
"Ace!"
A soft, cheerful voice rang out behind him.
Qing Junce turned and saw a little girl running over with a bright smile.
She wore a turquoise dress that fluttered like spring leaves in the wind—gentle, playful, fresh.
She looked almost unreal, like a porcelain doll carved by a divine hand.
Her wide eyes sparkled like stars—pure, bright, reflecting all the beauty and innocence of childhood.
Short black hair framed her delicate face, catching sunlight in a faint shimmer of violet.
She looked like a fairy who'd wandered out of a storybook, accidentally crossing into the real world.
That girl—was Shimizu Kanon, Qing Junce's childhood friend.
Their families were close. Their fathers ran a company together and were next-door neighbors, so the kids had practically grown up side by side.
Kanon had always followed Qing Junce around, especially to the court where she'd quietly watch him play.
With a smile that could melt anyone's heart, she walked up and said, "Ace, congratulations! Another win!"
Qing Junce wiped sweat from his forehead and grinned like it was no big deal. "Of course. You know how good I am."
"Cut it out," Kanon scoffed, sticking her tongue out. "So arrogant. Anyway, it's getting late. Time to go home."
Qing Junce frowned. "But I'm not done playing yet!"
Kanon ignored his protest, grabbed his arm, and started pulling him toward the street. "You always say that. Don't forget we're moving to Hokkaido next week. Have you even started packing?"
Right. The move.
Their parents' company was expanding, so the whole family had to relocate.
Qing Junce had completely forgotten.
He scratched his head sheepishly. "Now that you mention it… but I don't really have anything to pack."
"No way," Kanon rolled her eyes. "You seriously don't know how to think about anything besides basketball."
She knew him too well—knew that without her nagging, he'd probably forget his own shoes.
She liked watching him play, but life wasn't only about basketball!
As they left the court, something strange happened.
Their surroundings blurred, and a flash of red streaked past their eyes.
At the same time, they heard a voice echoing faintly in the air:
"Damn it, Yohei! You ran off without me again! I won't forgive you this time…"
The voice faded into the distance.
Qing Junce looked toward the blur of red with a puzzled expression.
Red hair? Neon red hair… at that age?
"Huh?" Kanon blinked cutely. "Someone else with unusual hair like you, Ace? Red hair? That's rare!"
Qing Junce suddenly froze.
"Red hair... Yohei…"
Kanon looked at him, confused. "What's wrong?"
But he didn't answer.
His mind was racing.
Red hair. Yohei.
It sounded… familiar.
"Red hair… Yohei…" he whispered again.
Kanon tilted her head, then reached up and touched his forehead. "Did you fry your brain playing basketball?"
Basketball. Red hair. Yohei.
Then, it hit him.
A flash of memory from his past life—an anime he'd seen long ago.
Could it be…?
Was this the world of Slam Dunk?
The red-haired kid who just flashed by—could that have been Sakuragi Hanamichi?
And the name Yohei… was it Mito Yohei?
He thought about the current time period.
The more he considered it, the more it made sense.
Then—without a word—Qing Junce grabbed Kanon's hand and took off running toward home.
Her face flushed red at the sudden gesture, but she didn't resist.
The two of them disappeared down the street together.