Basketball Gym No. 1.
An unprecedented spectacle in the history of the Kanagawa Prefecture preliminaries was about to unfold.
In the stands, countless spectators craned their necks, eyes locked onto the tightly sealed player entrances at both ends of the court.
Teams that had already fought their way through this year's preliminaries arrived one after another.
Shohoku.
Shoyo.
Takezato.
Takenozono.
Miuradai…
Uniforms of red, green, blue, and white interwove in the stands, forming a vast, colorful sea.
Yet strangely—
The gym was quiet.
Too quiet.
Compared to the usual pre-game noise, the silence felt unnatural, as if the entire venue had been wrapped in thick soundproof padding.
No one spoke loudly.
No one dared.
It was as if tens of thousands of people were holding their breath, waiting for the storm to arrive.
The electronic timer continued its merciless countdown.
Second by second.
When the clock struck 1:50 PM—
Bang!
Bang!
Two heavy iron gates slammed open simultaneously.
The sound tore through the silence like thunder.
At both ends of the court, the player tunnels of Ryonan and Kainan opened at the exact same moment.
The crowd exploded.
The restrained excitement that had been suppressed for so long erupted all at once, transforming into deafening cheers that swallowed the entire gym.
The roar surged higher and higher, vibrating the air itself, making even the overhead spotlights tremble faintly.
"Ryonan! Ryonan! Ryonan!"
"Kainan! Kainan! Kainan!"
White and yellow-purple banners waved wildly.
The chants collided in midair, forming an overwhelming wave of sound.
Then—
Measured footsteps echoed from within the tunnels.
Ryonan stepped onto the court first.
Akashi Seijuro led the team, his white uniform gleaming beneath the lights. His expression was calm, but the aura he exuded was unmistakable—controlled, dominant, and unwavering.
Behind him, Sendo spun a basketball lazily on one finger, a relaxed smile playing at the corner of his mouth, effortlessly drawing cheers wherever he went.
Uozumi.
Fukuda.
Koshino.
Ikegami.
Hikoichi.
The Ryonan lineup advanced in perfect rhythm, like a blade of white lightning slicing into the arena.
"Akashi! Akashi! Akashi!"
"Sendo! Sendo! Sendo!"
One was the tactical ruler who commanded the entire court.
The other, a genius forward with effortless flair.
Ryonan's dual-core had already become legendary in the hearts of countless fans.
Almost simultaneously—
Kainan emerged from the opposite tunnel.
Shinichi Maki walked at the front, clad in yellow and purple, his presence alone radiating the authority of a reigning emperor.
His posture was straight, his gaze sharp, every step steady and unyielding.
Jin Soichiro followed with a gentle smile, though the fighting spirit in his eyes burned fiercely.
Takasago Kazuma.
Muto Tadashi.
Kiyota Nobunaga.
The yellow-purple formation moved like a veteran army, carrying with it the weight of sixteen consecutive championships.
"Shinichi Maki—! Shinichi Maki—!"
"Jin! Jin!"
Even in the face of Ryonan's rise, Kainan's supporters remained overwhelming.
Camera shutters fired nonstop, reporters scrambling to capture every expression, every step, every flicker of tension.
The two teams stopped on opposite halves of the court.
White versus yellow-purple.
Two torrents, moments from collision.
"Hahahaha!"
A loud, arrogant laugh suddenly broke the solemn atmosphere.
Kiyota Nobunaga strode forward from Kainan's side, hands on his hips, chin lifted proudly.
"Do you guys know why Kainan is stronger than ever this year?"
He paused deliberately, scanning Ryonan's lineup.
No one answered.
Not a single response.
Unbothered, Kiyota laughed even louder.
"Hmph! It's because Kainan has me—Kiyota Nobunaga, the strongest rookie! Hahahahaha!"
His laughter echoed, full of youthful arrogance.
Ryonan's response?
Uniform.
Blank.
As if they were looking at an idiot.
Koshino tilted his head. "Who's that?"
Ikegami shook his head calmly. "No idea. Doesn't look very bright."
Uozumi snorted. "Kiyota Nobunaga? What a ridiculous name."
Only Sendo smiled faintly and glanced at Akashi.
"Kainan's rookies sure are lively, huh?"
Akashi hadn't looked at Kiyota even once.
His gaze passed through the noise, the crowd—
And settled squarely on Shinichi Maki.
Across the court, Maki met his eyes.
No hostility.
No provocation.
No words.
Just two leaders silently acknowledging each other.
Maki's eyes held scrutiny—and resolve.
Akashi's gaze carried only calm certainty.
For a brief moment, everything else faded away.
Then—
Almost simultaneously, they looked away.
"Warm up," Akashi said quietly.
He turned and walked toward the bench.
Not once did he acknowledge Kiyota.
The rest of Ryonan followed immediately.
As they passed, mocking voices drifted out.
"This year's Kainan doesn't look that impressive."
"Yeah. Even the rookies are getting worse."
"Still wet behind the ears, trying to play basketball—what a joke."
Kiyota's face flushed red.
His fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white.
He trembled with rage.
Before he could act—
"Kiyota."
Maki's calm voice cut through the air.
"Stop embarrassing yourself. Come back."
The authority in his tone was absolute.
Kiyota froze.
Then, gritting his teeth, he turned back and returned to his team.
Warm-ups began.
Still seething, Kiyota exaggerated his movements, dribbling louder, faster, trying desperately to draw attention.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The ball moved faster and faster.
Between knee and waist.
No wasted motion.
No loss of control.
The orange blur beneath his hand dazzled the crowd.
The gym quieted.
Even reporters adjusted their lenses instinctively.
"His dribbling is… impressive," Kamishiro Ruri murmured.
Hikoichi stared wide-eyed. "S-so fast…"
Koshino frowned. "That's not empty talk."
Ikegami nodded slowly. "Excellent control."
Uozumi's expression turned serious. "This rookie… he's dangerous."
Only Sendo chuckled lightly.
"Not bad."
Akashi didn't look.
Not even once.
To him, flashy dribbling meant nothing.
If he wished, he could do it better—faster, sharper, more lethal.
But wasting energy on pre-game theatrics was pointless.
"Continue warm-up."
At Akashi's command, Ryonan ignored Kiyota entirely.
The silence returned.
Only the sound of bouncing balls and squeaking shoes remained.
But beneath that calm—
Two invisible pressures rose.
Ryonan, sharp as a drawn blade.
Kainan, heavy as an immovable mountain.
The tension spread through the arena.
The warm-up ended.
Players gathered at center court.
Beep—!
The referee tossed the ball skyward.
The final match of the preliminaries.
The battle for Kanagawa's crown.
Ryonan vs. Kainan—began.