"I'M GOOD! I'M GOOD! JUST WARMING UP!" Kaito's voice echoed, full of a confidence he absolutely had not earned.
Coach Evans looked like he was chewing on a wasp. He didn't even acknowledge Kaito. He just blew his whistle, a short, angry fweet. "NEXT!"
The kid Kaito had been talking to in line—Daiki Arai—stomped up to the baseline. He was the opposite of Kaito; where Kaito was lean and built for speed, Daiki was built like a vending machine. He was stocky, powerful, and seemed furious at the basketball for just existing.
"LET'S GOOOOOO!" he roared, smacking himself on both cheeks.
"Oh, this one's a bull," Yosuke said, leaning forward. "That's Kaito's friend. He's... loud."
Daiki took the pass, and his dribble was heavy, thudding against the wood. He wasn't fast, but he was violent. He charged down the lane, his feet stomping, and when he went up for the layup, he didn't just lay it up. He attacked the rim, slamming the ball against the glass with a cannon-shot crack. The entire backboard shuddered. The ball rocketed through the hoop, and Daiki landed with a grunt, pumping his fists.
"YEAH! WHO'S NEXT?!"
"Holy..." Yosuke breathed. "I think he's trying to break the basket. That's a new strategy."
On the sideline, Coach Evans just sighed and scribbled a single word on his clipboard: "Strong."
"NEXT!"
The next player, Riku Nakamura, was a stark contrast. He was slender, with a calm, almost bored expression. He didn't hype himself up. He just... went.
His dribble was low and controlled. His steps were fluid and precise. He approached the basket, did a simple, perfect two-step, and laid the ball in so softly, the net barely moved. Then he jogged to the back of the other line.
It was clean. It was professional.
"Ooh, that one was smooth," Yosuke noted. "Kind of boring, though. No crashing. No screaming."
"His fundamentals are perfect," Kenji observed, pushing his glasses up. "Look at his footwork. He's balanced."
Ren, who had been staring, unfazed, at the previous chaos, gave a single, almost imperceptible nod.
It was the first sign of approval he'd shown all day.
That one knows how to play.
"NEXT!"
And then... Shota "Sho" Igarashi stepped up.
He was, by a wide margin, the tallest 1st-year. He was also, by a wide margin, the clumsiest human being Ren had ever seen. He was a collection of knees, elbows, and raw panic.
"Oh, this is Sho," Yosuke whispered, vibrating with anticipation. "He's... a new species. He's like a... a baby giraffe. On a skateboard. This is gonna be good."
Shota, who was bright red, started his dribble. He looked down at the ball, then up at the basket, then down at his feet. This proved to be a critical mistake.
His feet, which were enormous, got tangled up.
"Oh, he's doin' it..." Yosuke chanted.
Shota tripped.
He stumbled forward, pinwheeling his long arms to keep his balance. The ball flew up out of his hands as he fell.
He was falling... falling...
And in a moment of pure, accidental, physics-defying slapstick, the ball, his hand, and the rim all met at the same time.
K-SHRAANG!
The ball slammed down through the hoop as Shota, having completed his accidental, stumbling dunk, crashed onto his back in a heap under the basket.
He had dunked it. By tripping.
There was a full second of stunned silence.
Then Yosuke lost his mind.
"HE'S A GENIUS! HE'S AN ACCIDENTAL GENIUS!" Yosuke shrieked, grabbing Kenji's shoulders. "HE DUNKED! BY FALLING DOWN! THAT'S THE GREATEST PLAY I'VE EVER SEEN! SIGN HIM! SIGN HIM RIGHT NOW!"
Kenji just looked baffled. "I... don't think he could do that again if he tried."
Down on the court, Jin's jaw was open. Coach Evans looked like he was having a stroke.
But Takeda Hiroshi, the giant 3rd-year Center, who had been watching the 1st-years with a look of profound disappointment, just grunted.
"Hmm. He's tall." He crossed his massive arms. "I can work with that."
After that, the rest of the tryout was a blur. The other 1st-years—Junpei, Katsuki, Rintaro—were... fine. They were just guys. They did their layups. Some went in, some didn't. They were normal.
"Ehh," Yosuke said, slumping back in his seat. "The show's over. Bring back the crash-dunk kid."
FWWEEEEEEET!
Coach Evans blew his whistle, cutting off the last drill. He looked at the 1st-years, then at his notes, then at the lazy B-Team members who were still stretching badly.
"Alright," he growled, his voice full of gravel and frustration. "Enough drills. I've seen... enough."
He pointed at the 1st-years, then at the B-Team.
"SCRIMMAGE!"
Ryota Sato, who had just managed to balance the ball on his head, immediately dropped it.
"WHAT?"
"You heard me!" Evans barked. "1st-Years against the 2nd-Year B-Team! Let's see if any of you can play a real game!"