Teikō Middle School struck first.
Fukuda gained possession.
After dribbling past half court, Fukuda swung the ball to Kotaro Hayama.
Kotaro Hayama held the ball, squaring up against Miyamoto Tokima's defense.
He kept probing, repeatedly testing Miyamoto Tokima's balance.
Miyamoto Tokima didn't bite at all. Knowing Hayama was famous for his explosive drives, he positioned his right hand beside Hayama's hip, cutting off any chance of a breakthrough.
Kotaro Hayama watched him cautiously, a strange stiffness creeping into his body.
To his left, the floor was covered in a viscous green substance. The moment his left foot stepped into it, his entire leg slowed, strength draining away.
A sharp glint of alarm flashed in Hayama's eyes.
What kind of ability is this? My left leg won't respond properly.
Yet whether out of recklessness or stubbornness, Kotaro Hayama charged straight to the left anyway.
The instant both feet entered the green slime, his legs felt unbearably heavy, his movements severely restricted.
Damn it! This stuff is stopping me from moving!
Because Miyamoto Tokima's right hand had been guarding Hayama's hip all along, the moment Hayama tried to break through, Tokima mirrored his movement perfectly and cut him off.
Hayama's motion stiffened under the pressure. Seizing the opening, Miyamoto Tokima slammed his right hand down and cleanly stripped the ball.
Scooping it up, he made a motion like a quarterback launching a long pass, whipping the ball ahead to Shuzo Nijimura on the fast break.
That's right—Shuzo Nijimura was playing in this game.
The moment he realized he'd lost the ball, Kotaro Hayama spun around and sprinted back on defense.
But the difference in timing was too great. By the time Hayama reached half court, Nijimura had already thrown down a dunk.
"Nice one, Miyamoto."
Shuzo Nijimura smiled as he jogged back, raising his hand for a high-five with Miyamoto Tokima.
Teikō added two more points. The score moved to 4–0.
Fukuda possession again.
One turnover wasn't enough to shake Kotaro Hayama's confidence. He caught the ball at the arc once more, facing Miyamoto Tokima head-on.
When he saw that the left-side driving lane was still bubbling with green slime, his expression shifted subtly.
This kid… is he dead set on sealing my left side? But I'm not limited to that!
Kotaro Hayama snapped the ball down and used high-speed dribbling to shake Miyamoto Tokima's balance.
After a sharp left-to-right crossover, he burst toward the right.
Thud… thud…
But when Hayama looked up, Miyamoto Tokima was already there, perfectly positioned to block his path.
Hayama's expression grew heavy.
How does a first-year have defense this solid?
He attacked, pulled back, attacked again, then retreated—over and over.
No matter how many times he tried, he couldn't break through Miyamoto Tokima's defense. His left-side route was completely unusable, smothered by green slime.
Charging left recklessly would only end the same way as before—Tokima stealing the ball.
Damn it… I can't even get past a Teikō first-year. What's wrong with me?
Kotaro Hayama's face darkened. The player who had once given Teikō a sense of crisis last year couldn't even beat a freshman's defense now.
The disbelief gnawed at him.
The two stayed locked in place as the shot clock continued to tick down.
Seeing Hayama stalled, Fukuda's point guard raised a hand, calling for the ball.
Realizing he'd burned too much time, Hayama kicked the ball back out.
The point guard took possession, trying to reorganize, but only four seconds remained on the clock.
With no other choice, he had to attack himself.
No unnecessary moves. He attempted a simple crossover to break past Seijuro Akashi—but Akashi read it instantly.
Akashi slid into the lane, cutting him off. With just two seconds left, the point guard forced up a desperate shot over Akashi's defense.
Because it was rushed, Akashi was a split second late reacting—but he didn't mind. A shot like that almost never went in.
Yet luck was on their side.
The ball bounced on the rim three times… then dropped through.
Akashi paused, slightly stunned.
That lucky?
Midorima Shintaro narrowed his eyes and asked Satsuki Momoi on the sideline,
"Momoi-san, what's Fukuda's point guard's zodiac sign?"
He pushed up his glasses, thinking.
Today's horoscope said Gemini had the best luck, while Cancer ranked dead last. Not great for me… guess I'll just do what I can.
"Hold on, Midorima-kun…"
Momoi flipped quickly through her notes before answering,
"Gemini."
Hearing that, Midorima Shintaro nodded, a look of just as I thought on his face.
Miyamoto Tokima shot a subtle smile toward Momoi on the sideline, and she smiled back.
Then Tokima received Akashi's inbound pass and brought the ball over half court.
He had no intention of passing. This possession was his.
Lowering his center of gravity, he worked a rapid between-the-legs dribble, drawing Kotaro Hayama's focus.
Suddenly, he pushed off hard and exploded to the right.
In an instant, Miyamoto Tokima's figure tore through Hayama's defense like a bolt of black lightning.
Kotaro Hayama froze, eyes wide.
No… impossible. How can he be this fast?!
He snapped his head around and shouted,
"Help defense!!"
Fukuda's center reacted immediately, stepping into Tokima's driving lane.
Miyamoto Tokima didn't slow down. He spoke calmly, almost lazily:
"Hey, hey. When someone's attacking, it's better to clear the lane. Otherwise…"
Before he finished speaking, Tokima used his body properly, initiating contact. The Fukuda center reacted and pushed back, the two colliding head-on.
Bang.
The sound of muscle slamming into muscle rang out as a body was sent flying.
Swish!
The ball dropped cleanly through the net.
"Beep!!!"
The referee's whistle shrilled.
"…otherwise, you might get knocked away."
Landing smoothly, Miyamoto Tokima looked down at the fallen Fukuda center, then turned calmly toward the free-throw line. He already knew the call—since the center had applied force first, it could only be a blocking foul.
Sure enough, the referee signaled a blocking foul on Fukuda's center.
The moment the call was made, the entire arena erupted.
"No… no way! That's Fukuda's center! He actually… actually got knocked flying by a first-year?!"