"I used to think the game was simple."
A pair of basketball shoes squeaking as someone runs drills.
"Read. React. Pass. Run it back."
"That used to be enough."
Observant teen with a controlled expression sits alone on a bench. Other players in the background are practicing aggressively.
"Yo, did you see his stepback?"
"No one passes like that guy, though."
"Yeah, but he doesn't score."
Ren looks down at his hands, tapping his fingers like he's visualizing plays.
"But this world doesn't reward quiet vision."
A voice off-screen breaks the mood.
"Ren Kisaragi - you've got mail."
Ren walks over to the gym door, where a single black envelope lies on the ground.
It's marked with a strange crest: a shattered crown above a court diagram.
Ren picked up envelope and open it, inside the envelope, a sleek white card with blood-red ink.
PROJECT CROSSOVER
"You are not ready. That's why you've been chosen."
Ren's eyes widen slightly filled with more then just curiosity.
"...Who sent this?" Ren think to himself and as he continue Reading There was time, place and date where the invitation is suppose to happend.
A looming shadow of a crown forms above him. His calm face slowly turns serious
"They say only the crownless can rise.
Let's see what they really want."
And Ren knows what to do. His curiosity gets the better of him, and he waits patiently until the time and date are set.
7th June - Tokyo International Forum
Ren walks there, confused. Clearly, the invitation wasn't just for him there are so many familiar faces from other schools and past competitions. But many of them are complete strangers to Ren.
One of those faces is Haruto Daimon, a powerful center known for his defensive skills nicknamed the Iron Temple Wall.
Then there's Riku Shinjo from Shinjakiaku High School's basketball club, famously called the Wildcard of Shinjakiaku for his insane all-rounder ability. These weren't just strong players they were the best from schools all around Shinjuku and Kyoto.
"Makoto Enjoji... Leo Arakawa... Takumi Rindo... and so many more elite players from every school they're all here for the same reason I am," Ren thinks to himself, his eyes drifting from face to face.
Then the lights went out, and darkness swallowed the hall.
Everyone fell silent as they heard footstepssoft, steady... but each step echoed like thunder, booming across the old wooden floor.
Suddenly, a blinding spotlight snapped on, aimed directly at the stage.
There stood Naoya Isurugi, a world-class basketball player. A legend. One of Japan's greatest or at least, he used to be.
"ALL OF YOU, SHUT THE HELL UP AND LISTEN."
Naoya's voice cut through the room like a blade. It sounded like he didn't even want to be there.
"You're all here for the same reason to play the game you think you love, but I'm not giving it to you that easily."
"For those who know me, I'm Naoya Isurugi the reason Japan even touched the World Cup stage fifteen years ago...
and the reason we lost."
"I don't care about that anymore, because now, I have one goal To create the greatest team Japan has ever seen. That's what this project is about."
The players exchanged uneasy glances. Some confused. Some skeptical.
But they kept listening.
"Only one hundred and twenty of you will be accepted into the project.
So come...and cross over your understanding of basketball."
Naoya then snapped his fingers, and the curtain behind him flew open, spreading wide like wings.
Instantly, the room exploded into motion.
Dozens of players shot their hands up, shouting to be picked. Some didn't wait they rushed toward the stairs behind the curtain, pushing to be the first ones in.
But Ren didn't move. He just stood there, confused staring at the chaos.
"The best team Japan has ever seen...?"
"Can I really get there?"
"I want to play in the big game myself..."
The thought echoed through his mind.
And before he even realized it
his body moved on its own.
Ren burst forward, joining the crowd heading toward the stairway eyes locked, heart pounding.
Ren's feet hit the stairs with a thud. Around him, bodies moved fast like animals chasing something they couldn't see. Shouts. Heavy breathing. Elbows bumping. No one wanted to be last.
The stairway twisted down, not up.
The deeper they went, the quieter it became no lights, no windows, just the sound of shoes on concrete and the occasional cough. One by one, they reached a corridor lined with sealed glass doors, glowing faintly with numbers:
SECTION 1 – FULL
SECTION 2 – FULL
Then
SECTION 6 – 3 SPOTS LEFT
A chime echoed as the door hissed open.
Ren stepped in.
It was massive. Clean. Industrial. A mix between a high-tech facility and a prison gym.
Twelve player beds. A locker wall. A single flat-screen hanging overhead, frozen on a black screen that simply said:
"WELCOME TO CROSSOVER."
Ren took a deep breath.
Then someone brushed past him tall, heavy footsteps, quiet but sharp.
Haruto Daimon.
The Iron Temple Wall didn't say a word. He just took a bed, sat down, and started stretching, like he'd already claimed the room.
Another boy followed. Loose hoodie, headphones around his neck, one eye always watching.
Riku Shinjo.
The Wildcard. The moment his eyes locked with Ren's, something flickered. Not recognition but curiosity.
A grin broke across Riku's face.
"So you came too, huh?"
"Hope you're more than just that no-look pass guy."
Ren didn't answer. He just took the bed across from him staring back without a word.
As Ren stared across the room, a wave of anxiety hit him.
Riku Shinjo.
The same player who knocked his team out during the last Winter Cup.
He was unlike anything Ren had ever seen on the court fast, unpredictable, and terrifyingly calm. Just being in the same room made Ren's heart pound faster.
Then, the door behind him opened again with a hiss.
The next one to enter had a lean, agile build, a quiet yet menacing presence and a sharp gaze that cut through the air like a blade.
Jin Kurosawa.
Ren didn't know much about him. But just one look was enough.
"Delinquent…" Ren thought. "And definitely not someone to take lightly."
The door opened again. In walked a tall guy with messy long hair and a slouched posture, eyes half-lidded like he was bored of the entire world. He barely looked around.
A name flashed on the screen above the door:
Sora Minami
Then the silence broke shattered by a loud voice before the next player even appeared.
"YOOOOOOLOOO, SHITBUCKETS!!"
The doors opened wide as a guy burst in like a thunderstorm, throwing his arms up like he just hit a game-winner in the finals.
"Who's ready for the VOLT–TAGE?!"
"DAIKI!!"
The screen flickered:
Daiki Naruse
The room froze for a second.
Ren watched as Daiki's wild energy clashed instantly with Riku's cold stare and the moment their eyes met, the air shifted.
They didn't say anything.
They didn't have to.
There was history between those two.
Then the final figure stepped through the door:
Calm. Focused. The room quieted again.
Itsuki Akabane.
Ren's upperclassman.
Vice captain of the Sakuragaoka Gakuen basketball team.
"ITSUKI?!" Ren jumped off the bed, stunned. "Oh manI didn't expect to see you here! I didn't think anyone else from school would"
Itsuki glanced at him with a tired sigh.
"...And I'm surprised to see you here too."
"Didn't know they were taking lowerclassmen from the second team."
Ren froze.
Not angry. Not hurt.
But something inside him clicked.
The atmosphere in Section 6 was shifting.
The seven players looked around.
Even though they had each picked their beds, their eyes kept drifting toward the door expecting more.
Haruto sighed and finally spoke:
"This is weird... There must be some kind of mistake. Seven players and five empty spots? Why would we need more people?"
Itsuki, arms crossed, responded with a tired sigh:
"This is clearly based on an elimination system. Some of us will move forward, and some won't. That's for sure... The question is what happens now."
Before they could keep talking, the door suddenly beeped loudly.
A new name lit up on the display:
Shun Hozumi
When shun Enter thebroom he looked around checking the room Ren notice Shun's eyes are more of Snake then human.
The doors slid open again.
Next, a blue-haired teen strolled in, stretching his arms above his head with a loud yawn.
"Yo."
He gave a lazy wave before throwing himself onto an empty bed.
It was Makoto Enjoji.
In Ren's eyes, Makoto was one of the best centers in all of Kyoto.
Nicknamed "The Titan", he had a slim yet muscular frame, natural athleticism, long wingspan, and a wide torso a true born post-player.
Then, another chime another name.
Leo Arakawa stepped through the doorway like he owned the room.
Flamboyant. Loose smile. Too confident. The moment he walked in, the air changed not from power, but from presence.
Itsuki whispered something under his breath.
Leo glanced sideways with an annoyed look, as if he heard it somehow.
Ren turned his attention to Leo and thought:
"Leo Arakawa… the 'Generational Treasure' of Kyoto. A born winner. A star. People say he was the youngest to ever get a call-up to Japan's U-20 team. Everyone wants to play with him...and that alone makes him the worst opponent to play against."
Absolutely here's the continuation with smooth narrative flow and new character introductions woven naturally into the scene:
The door beeped again.
The players turned in unison as three more names lit up on the display, one after the other:
Toya Tenma
Takumi Rindo
Hayato Nanao
The first to enter was Toya Tenma a sharp-eyed teen with silver hair tied loosely behind his neck.
His steps were quiet, but his gaze was piercing, scanning everyone like he was already calculating matchups in his head.
"That's Toya… I've heard of him," Ren thought.
"They call him 'The Precision Blade' — a shooting guard with surgical focus. Barely misses."
Toya chose his bed in the corner far from everyone, but close enough to observe.
Right behind him came Takumi Rindo.
Tall, with dark green hair and a laid-back expression, he wore his warmup jacket unzipped, hands in his pockets.
"Tch. Packed house already," he mumbled with a crooked grin.
Takumi had a strange aura calm, but cocky.
He was known as a free-style scorer the kind who didn't care about plays or rules, only getting the bucket.
"I saw him during the Inter-High… Takumi's the type who makes tough shots look easy. A 'Chaos Finisher.' He doesn't follow flow — he breaks it."
Then came the last of the trio:
A loud thud echoed from the hallway, followed by a blur of movement as someone skidded in sideways through the door on the heel of his sneakers.
"WOOOO! Damn near slipped! Y'all already pick beds!?"
The energetic voice belonged to Hayato Nanao the lightning-quick point guard from Osaka.
He had headphones around his neck, goggles on his forehead, and a grin like he was already having fun.
"S'up. Name's Hayato. Let's go full throttle, yeah?" he laughed, grabbing the bed closest to the exit.
Ren remembered him instantly.
"Hayato Nanao… 'The Hurricane Runner.' Fastest guard in the regionals. They say he can cross the court in three seconds flat. And he's impossible to contain when he starts building speed." Ren said to himsilf while looking at him and thinking who is the last person.
Now, the dorm room was nearly full.
Twelve beds. Eleven players.
Tension slowly started to creep in.
Even without words, they could all feel it:
One bed left. One player remaining.
And with twelve names called…
That meant the true Stage One was about to begin.
And after a long pause
BEEP.
The final name lit up across the screen:
KAITO SHIBA
The door slowly opened…
And through it walked a tall, lean teen with jet-black hair, sharp red eyes, and a faint scowl on his face.
Kaito glanced at the room, sighed, and muttered:
"Tch… So I'm stuck with this bunch of idiots? Don't slow me down."
The room tensed.
The moment his words landed, Takumi Rindo sat up straight, a grin curling at the corner of his mouth.
"Oi, what was that?" Takumi said, cracking his neck.
"You walk in late and start barking orders already?"
Jin Kurosawa, lying on his back, opened one eye and snorted.
"Typical hot-head. Say that again when you've earned a single win, poser."
Then, with zero hesitation, Daiki Naruse jumped off his bed entirely, landing with a loud thud.
"OHHHHH?! WHO CALLED US IDIOTS, HUH?! I'LL RUN IT RIGHT NOW! FULL-VOLTAGE STYLE!"
Kaito just shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets and sneered.
"Talk loud all you want. I didn't come here to play with clowns."
The atmosphere cracked with tension several players already standing, eyes wide, unsure whether to break it up or let it boil over.
But before any punches could fly
A sudden BOOM echoed from the speakers above.
"SILENCE."
The lights in the room dimmed.
And then, Naoya Isurugi's voice returned, cold and clear:
"Now that all twelve of you have arrived…
Welcome to Section 6."
"Your training begins… at dawn.
I hope you're ready to bleed for the right to stay."
Then the screen flickered
SECTION 6 – ALL PLAYERS REGISTERED.
PHASE 1: INDEX TRIAL BEGINS
05:59:00
Locked inside with eleven people who look like they want to kill each other.
Ren sat cross-legged on his bed, his sharp eyes calmly scanning the room.
He wasn't relaxing. He was reading
watching every twitch, movement, breath.
Trying to understand the situation.
Makoto stood by his bed, unzipping his bag without saying a word.
He pulled out a series of protein bars, devoured them one by one, then quietly stood up and began a set of warm-up stretches
no fuss, no talk, just motion.
A machine in the shape of a teenager.
In the far corner, Toya Tenma sat calmly, legs crossed, back straight.
He jotted something into a small leather notebook, his pen dancing silently.
Every once in a while, he tilted his head, just slightly
a small nod toward someone he had finished observing.
His eyes passed over Ren briefly.
Then moved on.
Hayato Nanao, meanwhile, had one earbud in.
He nodded along to a beat only he could hear, his legs swinging lazily from his bed.
Then, suddenly, he reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a basketball.
"Yo… anyone wanna hoop to kill some time?"
He walked toward the door with a hopeful grin
and tried the handle.
Locked.
"Tsk… buzzkill."
He clicked his tongue and sighed in frustration.
Before he could turn around
Daiki Naruse had already snatched the ball from his hands.
He grinned wide, spinning it on one finger.
"Thanks for the warmup, buddy."
Daiki began dribbling in the tiny space, the thud-thud echoing off the walls.
Annoyed glares filled the room.
"What? Whatcha starin' at?! Gotta stay warm!"
With a sly grin, he hurled the ball straight at Kaito.
SMACK.
Kaito caught it one-handed without flinching.
He didn't even look up.
"Just sayin' on the court? I'm dunking on all of you first."
While Daiki stirred chaos, Kaito Shiba sat with his back against the wall, hoodie up, eyes half-shut.
His breaths were sharp, controlled, almost meditative.
"Let them waste their breath,"
he thought to himself.
"All I need is the game."
In another corner, Takumi Rindō was flipping a coin on his palm.
"If it lands heads—I start a fight.
If tails… eh, nap's fine too."
He flipped it.
It landed on heads.
He looked around the room slowly…
and grinned.
"Guess it's a lucky night"
Each one of them dealt with the silence their own way.
But the clock didn't care.
It kept clicking
After the hour and half of dead silance the mood of the room changed and then, the first move happened.
Leo Arakawa stood up from his bed.
His movements were casual but his eyes weren't.
He walked across the room to where Jin Kurosawa sat, casually vaping, checking something on his phone.
Leo gave a small, confident grin.
"Jin Kurosawa, right?
From Shichiro High.
The so-called ace of the Shinshiro team.
Am I right?"
In the corner, both Ren and Toya subtly looked up eyes sharpened.
They weren't the only ones listening.
Jin didn't stand immediately but he looked up, a bit of bite in his tone.
"So what's it to you, Winnerborn?"
His voice was calm, but there was an edge behind it.
He stood slowly, meeting Leo eye to eye.
Yet… something felt off.
This wasn't typical delinquent energy.
It was measured. Controlled.
Leo raised his hands peacefully.
"Easy, hothead. I'm not here to fight you.
I'm here to recruit you."
Jin raised an eyebrow.
"Recruit?"
Leo nodded, then smiled, tilting his head.
"You. Me.
Point Guard and Small Forward.
The foundation of a team."
He extended his hand.
Jin's grin spread wider.
"That so? Well… so be it. Let's build it then."
They shook hands firmly, briefly.
Then Jin asked:
"Who's next?"
Leo didn't hesitate.
He turned slightly, pointing behind them.
"Kaito Shiba. Power Forward.
The Relentless Brawler of Takahiro High."
Kaito, still sitting with his back to the wall, opened one eye.
He had definitely heard them.
But he didn't respond.
Both Leo and Jin stepped forward toward Kaito, who still sat with his back against the wall. He looked up at them, sighed, and muttered
"Teamwork and alliances this early, huh?"
He pushed himself up, brushing off his hoodie. Well... count me in. I don't plan on losing, so this is the smartest play."
No hesitation. Kaito didn't care about camaraderie he cared about results. And this was the best path forward.
Jin smirked. "That locks in the front. Now-"
He turned, eyes scanning the room.
His attention landed on Haruto, who had just finished another quiet round of push-ups and stood tall with his arms crossed.
"Hey, protein bar guy," Jin said. "What's your position?"
Haruto turned, annoyed by thr nickname he replied. "Its Haruto, Haruto Daimon and i am Center."
Leo's face lit up with excitement.
"A center? Perfect."
Jin gave a nod. "You in?"
Haruto paused only for a second, then stepped forward.
"If it helps me reach the top, I'm in."
With that, four players now stood together.
They moved as a group toward a lone figure sitting on his bed, arms behind his head, headphones half-in Sora Minami.
He hadn't moved or spoken the entire time, like the world around him was on mute.
Leo approached.
"So, what do you think? You joining us, So called the Phantom of Rakyuushin?"
Sora didn't answer immediately. He pulled one earbud out, looked up at them lazily, and replied:
"Depends."
Jin raised an eyebrow. "On what?"
Sora's tone was flat. "Are any of you gonna get in my way?"
Leo chuckled. "Only if you slow us down."
Sora stared at them for a second. Then stood.
"Fine. I'll join. Just don't talk to me unless it's about the game. I'm not here for bonding time."
Five of them now stood together an unofficial alliance, built on ambition, instinct, and mutual usefulness.
Across the room, Ren watched silently, his hands folded, eyes narrow as he studied the group.
Toya didn't look up he simply flipped a page in his notebook and kept writing.
Daiki spun a ball on his finger, glancing between the alliances like a predator sniffing out who'd be fun to piss off.
And slowly, the temperature in the room began to rise again.
Leo glanced at his group five players already. A strong lineup by any standard. He exhaled deeply and said aloud:
"This was it, right? That's why they gave us so much time… to build our teams before the test."
As his voice echoed slightly off the walls, another voice answered, deep and unmistakable.
"Indeed," said Naoya Isurugi, now his hologram standing at the corner of the room, arms crossed.
"But you're still missing one. Who's the sixth man of your team?"
Leo paused, thinking. His eyes scanned the room. He knew most of the remaining players. Then one person caught his eye a figure leaning calmly against his bed, notebook still in hand.
"Heh~ Who else but the Clockwork of Seryuu Technical Institute," Leo smirked. "You in?"
Toya didn't even look up at first. He sighed and finally responded with a light, almost teasing smile.
"Nah, I'm good. Sorry, Leo."
Leo blinked a few times, mildly surprised.
"...Seriously?"
Toya shrugged and leaned back with a lazy grin. "I'm more of an observer right now."
Leo sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Tch… Excuse me then."
His eyes moved across the room again before landing on another familiar face.
"What about you, Itsuki? Outside of Toya, there's no one else I'd consider."
Itsuki stood up slowly, adjusting his jacket. A small smile played across his lips.
"It would be a pleasure to follow you," he said calm, but with a flicker of something desperate beneath the surface.
Leo gave a sharp nod. "Then that's our six. Like you asked."
Just as he finished speaking, the heavy door at the back of the room creaked open with a slow mechanical hum.
And through it stepped a tall man in his late twenties broad-shouldered, calm-eyed, dressed in a black tracksuit.
Yagi Saejima.
A name every player in that room knew.
Currently a starting member of Japan's national basketball team, and once the MVP of the All-Japan Inter-High Championship.
Saejima took one glance at the group in front of him and moved aside.
"You're under me now. Let's go," he said sharply, his tone flat but authoritative.
Without hesitation, Leo's team followed him out. The door shut behind them with a cold metallic thud.
And just like that
Only seven remained.
Ren. Toya. Daiki. Riku. Makoto. Takumi. Hayato.
Seven names.
Seven players.
One of them… wouldn't make it out.
Suddenly, the screen flickered again.
Naoya's voice returned, calm but cutting:
"You seven will form the second team of Section Six. But unlike the first group, only six of you will stay."
Everyone froze.
"In every section, there are thirteen players, not twelve. Leo's group was the third to figure out team-building first. That gave them their advantage."
Ren's chest tightened as the reality set in.
Naoya continued:
"Now for your first challenge…
The Trial of the Thief in the Night.
It's simple. For the next four hours and ten minutes, each of you must keep dribbling your ball. One of you won't get one.
And that person…becomes the Thief.
The only way to protect the ball is by basic defence dribble footwork and energy management good lucky."
The beds in the room suddenly slid into the floor, vanishing with a hiss.
Then, with a mechanical clunk, six basketballs bounced out randomly across the room.
Everyone lunged instinctively.
Ren caught his.
Toya, Makoto, Riku, Takumi, and Hayato followed suit—
Each grabbing one on reflex.
Daiki Naruse was left staring at the floor, blinking.
"...You gotta be shitting me."
The timer reset and began to tick down on the wall:
04:10:00 — REMAINING TIME
Ren could feel the pressure wrap around the room like a vice.
Seven players.
Six basketballs.
And one thief…
desperate enough to steal.
The game had begun.