The April wind carried cherry blossom petals, scattering them across the front gates of Ryonan High School.
Sakuragi Hanamichi stood there, his brand-new Ryonan uniform still creased from the folds—navy blazer, light gray trousers, his tie crooked and barely hanging on.
He tugged at the collar, feeling like it was a gentle noose tightening around his neck.
"Stop pulling it—if you ruin it, you'll regret it," came the voice beside him.
It was Mito Yohei. He was wearing the same uniform, but his tie was perfectly straight, his hair neatly styled. Compared to Sakuragi, he looked far more reliable.
"Who even invented this thing?" Sakuragi muttered, fidgeting with the tie again. "It's completely inhumane."
Yohei sighed and fixed the tie for him.
"Just endure it. That's how private schools are. At least the uniform quality is good—way better than the one from Wakou Junior High."
He wasn't wrong. Ryonan's uniform fabric was thick, well-tailored, and refined. Restrictive, yes—but undeniably elite.
"Come on, we'll be late." Yohei patted him on the back.
The two walked through the school gates together.
Almost immediately, Sakuragi felt eyes from all directions.
That flaming-red pompadour stood out sharply against the soft pink sea of cherry blossoms.
Combined with his 188 cm height, broad shoulders, and the subtle, court-trained sway in his stride, he looked like a flamingo that had wandered into a flock of cranes.
The new students instinctively avoided him. Whispers fluttered like leaves in the wind.
"Wow… his hair…"
"He's so tall—must be an athlete."
"He looks scary…"
"How did a delinquent get into our school?"
Sakuragi caught every word. He nearly laughed—back in the NBA, he'd faced crowds ten times louder, jeers that could shake an arena. This? Child's play.
Still, he straightened his back on purpose, making his height even more obvious.
Sure enough, the students ahead of him quickly fell silent and stepped aside.
One week after transmigrating, life felt like it had been reset. Everything familiar was now draped in unfamiliar colors.
Even something as ordinary as school felt different—because of the uniform, the stares, and this friend beside him who shouldn't have been here in the first place.
Yohei choosing Ryonan instead of Shohoku wasn't part of the original story.
When Sakuragi had asked why, Yohei had shrugged and said casually,
"You're good at fighting, but too dumb. Someone's got to be your strategist."
A throwaway line—but Sakuragi remembered it.
Takamiya and the others had wanted to come too, but their families couldn't afford it. Only Yohei's family was well-off enough.
The surname Mito, in Japan, rarely belonged to the poor.
Class 1–7.
Sakuragi found his classroom and pushed the door open.
For half a second, the room went silent.
More than twenty pairs of eyes turned toward him—curiosity, surprise, and blatant scrutiny.
Girls in the front row quickly looked down, pretending to organize their stationery. The boys whispered, eyes lingering on his red hair.
A few bold girls glanced at his model-like height, secretly thinking:
If he changed his hairstyle, he'd be seriously handsome… Should I make the first move?
Sakuragi remained unfazed and walked straight to the back row, to the window seat.
"The throne," he muttered as he pulled out the chair—just loud enough for a few nearby to hear.
Outside the window stood a massive cherry tree. Pink-and-white petals swayed in the breeze, some drifting inside and settling on the sill. Sunlight filtered through the branches, scattering shimmering shadows across the desks.
Sakuragi shoved his bag into the desk, rested his chin on his hand, and stared outside.
The teacher's opening speech drifted from the front—school rules, courses, clubs… the words sounded distant, like echoes underwater.
His mind had already flown far away.
Now that he was at Ryonan, Shohoku had lost its future rebound king.
In the original story, Sakuragi's growth was crucial to Shohoku's rise—the decisive rebound against Sannoh, the defensive awakening against Shoyo…
"Would Shohoku even make nationals this year?" he muttered.
But he quickly pushed the thought aside.
What did that have to do with him?
He was now Ryonan's Sakuragi Hanamichi.
His goal: dominate Kanagawa, charge into the national stage, and make a name for himself as a first-year.
Then—find a way back to the NBA of the 1990s.
Who knows—maybe he'd even face the bald legend himself.
Shohoku's story?
That was someone else's.
A bird fluttered past the window and landed on a cherry branch, tilting its head to peer into the classroom.
Sakuragi's eyes followed it, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
Taoka Moichi was incredible.
Special admission. Full tuition waiver. Scholarship.
For a high school coach to secure all that—he had truly gone all out.
Sakuragi didn't know the details, but even with his toes he could guess how hard it was. Private school board members weren't philanthropists.
He touched the fabric of his uniform, recalling Taoka's phone call two days ago:
"Everything's settled. Go report to Class 1–7. After school, meet me at the gym. Don't be late."
What Sakuragi didn't know…
was that at that very moment, Taoka Moichi had been sitting in the boardroom—facing a high-stakes wager.
"Coach Taoka, we understand your passion," said the balding chairman, adjusting his glasses.
"But this student, Sakuragi Hanamichi… his academic record is, frankly, disastrous. His family situation is special. Full tuition remission plus a scholarship is unfair to others."
"His talent is once in ten years!" Taoka slammed his hands on the table.
"No—once in a century! Chairman, you didn't see him on the court! A free-throw line dunk! What high schooler in Japan can do that?!"
The board members exchanged glances.
"Talent is one thing," the vice-chairman said calmly.
"But Ryonan is a school, not a professional team. We must answer to all students—and to the school's reputation."
Taoka clenched his fists.
He remembered that dunk again. A talent like that—if buried because of money…
"If," he said slowly,
"I guarantee we win the prefectural tournament this summer—and at least reach the national semifinals?"
The room fell silent.
"Coach Taoka," the chairman said, straightening, "those are not words to say lightly."
"I mean every word."
Taoka's voice trembled—not with fear, but excitement.
"With Sakuragi Hanamichi, plus Sendoh Akira and Uozumi Jun, Ryonan can challenge for the national title! I'll stake my career on it!"
One full minute passed.
Finally, the chairman asked,
"And if you fail?"
"I resign," Taoka said without hesitation.
"And I will personally pay Sakuragi's tuition. The school will not spend a single yen."
All of this… Sakuragi Hanamichi knew nothing about.
He only knew that Coach Taoka had his back.
That his basketball journey had found its starting point.
The cost and risk behind it—he had yet to discover.
For now, he could sit in this classroom and enjoy this hard-won student life.