Coach Evans's whistle was still echoing as the 1st-years, about fifteen of them in total, scrambled to form a ragged line on the baseline. They looked like a row of very nervous, very skinny bowling pins.
"Alright, this is simple!" Evans yelled, his voice already strained. "Basic layup drill! Right side, then left side! Dribble with your right, jump off your left, use the backboard! Then switch! It's not rocket science! Let's go!"
Up on the balcony, Yosuke leaned in conspiratorially. "Okay, Ren-kun, Kenji, watch this." He pointed. "See that kid? The one who looks like he's vibrating? The one who's basically just a blur?"
Ren's eyes settled on him. It was the red-haired kid from their class. Kaito Tanaka. He wasn't just vibrating; he was bouncing on the balls of his feet so hard, he looked like he was about to achieve orbit. Next to him, his friend Daiki Arai was smacking himself in the face, yelling "LET'S GO!" trying to get hyped. On the other side, Riku Nakamura just looked smooth and calm, and Shota Igarashi, the tall one, looked like a baby giraffe trying to remember how its legs worked.
"That's Kaito-kun," Yosuke whispered, a huge grin on his face. "This is the best part of the whole day. Just... just watch."
"First man!" Evans barked.
A random 1st-year dribbled down, did a normal, if slightly nervous, layup, and made it.
"Good! Next!"
Another kid went. He missed.
"Fine! Next!"
It was Kaito's turn.
He slapped the floor, took the pass, and in a single, explosive movement, he was gone.
He wasn't just dribbling. He was detonating.
"Whoa," Kenji said, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "He's... incredibly fast."
Kaito's speed was unreal. He was a red-and-white blur, a streak of pure, unbridled velocity. He covered the entire length of the court in about three seconds, the ball barely keeping up with his pounding feet. The other 1st-years' jaws just dropped.
On the sideline, Jin Tanaka watched his little brother, his expression a tight mix of pride and pure terror.
"Wait for it..." Yosuke whispered, his body shaking with suppressed laughter.
Kaito reached the basket, still moving at Mach 1. He hadn't slowed down. He hadn't gathered himself. He just... kept going.
He picked up his dribble way too early, took three massive, bounding steps that were more like a long jump, and leaped into the air.
His feet were all wrong. His body was completely out of control.
He threw the ball, not at the polite white square on the backboard, but at the very top of the glass, as if trying to shatter it.
The ball clanged off the top edge, shot straight up into the rafters, and rocketed out of bounds.
But Kaito wasn't done.
He had so much momentum that he couldn't even grab the rim. He just flew past it. Gravity took over, and with no way to stop, he sailed head-first into the padded blue wall under the basket.
WHUMP.
The sound was a sickening, final thud.
Kaito, legs splayed, slid down the padding and collapsed onto the floor in a tangled heap of limbs, his bright red hair the only thing visible.
The entire gym went silent for one, beautiful second.
Then Yosuke exploded.
"AHAHAHAHAHA! I TOLD YOU!" he howled, clutching his stomach and slamming his hand on the bleacher. "HE DID IT! HE REALLY DID IT! ALL GAS, NO BRAKES! HE'S A ROCKET WITH NO STEERING! AHAHAHA!"
On the sideline, Jin Tanaka didn't say a word. He just slowly, painfully, covered his entire face with both hands in pure, secondhand embarrassment. Coach Evans just stared, his eyes wide, his mouth open, his soul visibly exiting his body. Haru, the manager, didn't even look up from his laptop.
Kenji just sighed. "His center of gravity is completely off. He's all speed, no control."
Ren, however, was deadpan. He wasn't laughing. He was watching.
While Yosuke was cackling, Ren's "Eagle Vision" had kicked in, processing the entire event in crystal-clear slow motion.
He saw it.
His footwork is terrible. He's planting with his heel, not the ball of his foot. He's wasting energy. He's leaning his body forward before his feet are set, which is why he can't stop. He's just... fast. He's not running; he's just falling forward and letting his legs catch up.
Ren processed a dozen micro-corrections in a single second. If he just angled his plant foot, if he just took one 'gather' dribble, if he just...
Ren's eyes narrowed.
...he could be twice as fast. And he could actually stop.
He saw the raw, unpolished, wasted talent. It was almost offensive.
Down on the court, Kaito Tanaka scrambled to his feet, his face the same color as his hair. He pumped his fist in the air.
"I'M GOOD!" he yelled to the silent, staring gym. "I'M GOOD! JUST WARMING UP!"