Ryonan's offensive possession ended.
The scoreboard froze at 21–0.
Even though it was only a practice match, a gap like that was enough to crush the morale of almost any team.
"Defense! Defense!"
The roar from Ryonan's bench thundered across the court.
It sounded as if the game were already over and they were celebrating victory ahead of time.
Makino Juro stood at the baseline and received the inbound pass from Akagi Takenori.
He didn't rush forward.
Instead, he lazily dribbled the ball twice, the rhythm slow and relaxed—like an old man taking a leisurely stroll through a park.
"What's that No.16 doing?"
"Probably scared out of his mind. Looks like he barely even knows how to dribble."
Sparse laughter rippled through the crowd.
In Ryonan's half court, the defense had already settled into formation.
Sendoh Akira stood at the top of the arc, his eyes locked on Rukawa Kaede.
Under the basket, Uozumi Jun guarded the paint like an iron tower, firmly sealing off Akagi Takenori's position.
And the player assigned to guard Makino Juro was Ryonan's point guard—
Uekusa Tomoyuki.
Uekusa watched the opponent in front of him slowly dribbling the ball, and a trace of contempt surfaced in his mind.
Such a sloppy posture.
His entire body was full of openings.
With just a little pressure, the ball should be easy to steal.
Uekusa lowered his center of gravity and prepared to step forward.
At that very moment—
Makino Juro's gaze shifted slightly to the right.
Toward Rukawa's position.
Uekusa's attention instinctively followed the movement for just a split second.
When he looked back—
The space in front of him was empty.
Where did he go?!
Uekusa's pupils shrank as he frantically looked around.
That lazy figure had vanished from his field of vision like a drop of water dissolving into the sea.
"Uekusa! Behind you!"
Coach Taoka Moichi shouted from the sideline, jumping in panic.
Too late.
An orange blur tore through the air.
The ball wasn't in Makino Juro's hands anymore.
Instead, it shot across the court like a precision-guided missile.
Straight toward the left corner where Rukawa stood.
Rukawa caught the ball.
Even he froze for half a second.
The pass…
was too perfect.
Right at chest level. The texture of the ball was clear under his fingers—no adjustment needed.
In front of him, Sendoh had been momentarily shaken by the strange passing angle and reacted half a beat too late.
Rukawa didn't waste that half-beat.
He jumped.
Released.
His wrist snapped downward with soft precision.
Swish!
The ball slid cleanly through the net.
21–2.
Shohoku had finally broken their scoring drought.
"Nice shot!"
Akagi clenched his fist and roared, finally releasing some of the frustration boiling in his chest.
Rukawa landed and turned his head, looking toward Makino Juro walking back up the court.
That guy had both hands tucked into his shorts.
He hadn't even watched the shot go in.
He simply yawned as he passed by.
"Lucky shot," Makino Juro said casually.
The next two minutes turned into a horror movie for the Ryonan players.
Makino Juro was like a ghost.
He was clearly standing on the court, wearing a bright red jersey.
Yet Uekusa simply couldn't see him.
Every time Uekusa relaxed for even a moment—thinking Makino Juro posed no threat—and moved to help defend someone else…
The ball would mysteriously appear in the hands of Shohoku's scoring threat.
BANG!
Akagi caught the pass and smashed down a ferocious dunk, hanging from the rim as he roared.
Swish!
Rukawa hit another pull-up jumper.
The score tightened rapidly.
21–6.
23–8.
25–12.
The gap was shrinking at an alarming pace.
The laughter in the stands disappeared, replaced by confused murmurs.
"What's going on? Shohoku suddenly came back to life?"
"That No.16… did he just pass the ball?"
"I didn't even see it clearly."
On the sidelines, Aida Hikoichi held his pen suspended in midair.
He didn't even know what to write.
In his observation notebook, Makino Juro's stats were still completely blank.
No drives.
No points.
Barely any dribbling.
But the moment he touched the ball, Shohoku's offense started spinning like a perfectly oiled machine.
"…Strange."
On the court, Sendoh wiped the sweat from his forehead.
His gaze gradually deepened as he looked at Makino Juro, who was currently bent over tying his shoelaces—
(in reality, just seizing the chance to rest).
Just a moment ago, Sendoh had clearly seen Makino Juro looking toward Akagi.
Everyone's attention had been drawn into the paint.
Yet the ball had somehow flown outside to Rukawa like a magic trick.
Visual misdirection?
Or simply a thin presence?
"Uekusa."
Sendoh suddenly spoke.
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried unquestionable authority.
"You guard Rukawa."
"Huh?"
Uekusa froze.
"But Sendoh-senpai, Rukawa is their ace—"
"That No.16… leave him to me."
A playful smile curved on Sendoh's lips.
The expression of a hunter who had discovered an interesting prey.
"If we don't keep an eye on him, this game is going to become troublesome."
Though confused, Uekusa nodded.
Possession switched again.
Shohoku attacked.
The moment Makino Juro crossed half court, he felt a completely different pressure.
That spiky-haired figure stood in front of him.
Sendoh Akira.
Unlike Uekusa, Sendoh didn't press tightly.
Instead, he maintained about a step and a half of distance.
An ambiguous distance.
Close enough to stop a drive.
Far enough to disrupt a pass.
Most importantly—
Sendoh's eyes weren't looking at Makino Juro's face.
They were locked firmly onto the ball in Makino Juro's hands.
"Tsk."
Makino Juro clicked his tongue internally.
As expected of Sendoh Akira.
He found the weakness of visual misdirection that quickly?
The essence of visual misdirection was to manipulate the opponent's focus through subtle eye movements and body language.
But if the opponent simply didn't look at your eyes, the technique would lose much of its effectiveness.
Makino Juro feinted to the left.
Sendoh didn't budge.
His center of gravity was steady as a mountain.
"Useless."
"I don't know what kind of trick you're using."
"But as long as I adjust my field of vision, you won't disappear."
Sendoh smiled casually, as if they were chatting.
Makino Juro sighed.
"Do we really have to take this so seriously?"
"Can't we just play casually, break a sweat, and then go home for dinner?"
"That won't work," Sendoh shrugged.
"I'd rather go fishing myself. But if we lose to you guys, Coach Taoka will kill me."
With Sendoh personally guarding him, Shohoku's rising momentum suddenly stalled.
Makino Juro couldn't pass.
Rukawa was harassed by Uekusa and Koshino Hiroaki.
Inside, Akagi was rapidly losing stamina battling against Uozumi.
CLANG!
Akagi's hook shot hit the front of the rim.
Uozumi grabbed the rebound with a roar and immediately launched a long pass.
Sendoh exploded into motion.
He shook off Makino Juro, caught the ball, and finished with a layup.
27–12.
The gap widened again.
Makino Juro stood still, watching Sendoh's back.
A faint glimmer flashed across his half-sleepy eyes.
"Man… he's really cool."
"When I read the manga as a kid, I always thought this guy was the real genius."
"High basketball IQ, great skills, and even a good personality."
"If I could recruit him to Shohoku…"
"I could retire completely."
While Makino Juro was lost in his thoughts, the atmosphere near the sideline suddenly grew restless.
"Damn it! That monkey boss is too tall!"
"Gorilla can't hold on anymore!"
Sakuragi Hanamichi was shaking the railing frantically like an ant on a hot pan.
"Old man! Put me in!"
"Only this genius can bring down that monkey boss!"
Coach Anzai Mitsuyoshi pushed up his glasses.
A white flash reflected across the lenses.
He glanced at the exhausted Akagi.
Then at the enormous gap in the paint.
Indeed.
Akagi alone couldn't handle the pressure inside.
They needed a troublemaker.
Someone unpredictable.
A chaotic brawler.
"Sakuragi."
Coach Anzai spoke slowly.
"Yes!"
Sakuragi snapped to attention instantly, eyes sparkling.
"You will replace Kogure Kiminobu."
"You have only one task."
Coach Anzai raised a finger.
"Control the rebounds."
"Control… the rebounds?"
"If you control the rebounds, you control the game."
Those words struck Sakuragi's brain like a bolt of lightning.
"I… am the man who can control the game!"
Sakuragi trembled violently—pure excitement surging through his body.
BEEEEEP!
"Shohoku substitution!"