Warm-ups ended, and the game started quickly.
Teiko’s center stepped into the jump ball circle, stretching his body.
He was determined to shine in this game.
The internal competition at Teiko this year was brutal—those first-years were incredibly strong.
If he didn’t perform well, he might lose his starting spot entirely.
But soon, he heard someone speaking in a mocking tone.
“Is Teiko so short on players that they sent you to jump ball?
You’re so short I could barely see you.”
The speaker was, of course, Kainan’s center—Takasago Kazuma, Kainan’s starting center.
He wasn’t particularly outstanding—at least among all the centers in the country, he didn’t even crack the top ten.
Yet he would later become the starting center for powerhouse Kainan High School.
Since this was a practice game, there were no spectators in the gym—just a few reporters.
Takasago’s words were easily heard by Teiko’s players.
“Takasago Kazuma, third-year at Kainan University Affiliated Junior High, height 186 cm, weight 75 kg.
Specializes in rebounding and defense.
His scoring is mostly concentrated in the paint, with go-to moves like dunks and hook shots.
He doesn’t have mid-range or outside shooting ability.
Plays quite cleverly and often baits opponents into foul trouble.”
Momoi was like a walking encyclopedia, instantly revealing Takasago’s entire profile.
Takasago might not have been the strongest center, but he was definitely a clever one.
In a later matchup against Ryonan, he used words and tactics to provoke Uozumi Jun into losing his cool, forcing Ryonan’s starting center to leave the game early.
Although it wasn’t explicitly stated in the original work, fans had speculated based on the storyline.
In the Slam Dunk national tournament arc, Kainan’s performance that year was exceptional—they at least made it to the semifinals.
So Takasago shouldn’t be underestimated—he was a center with genuine national-level ability.
Teiko’s players didn’t respond.
They knew Takasago too well—if they let him get under their skin, they’d fall right into his trap.
“Not saying anything, huh?
No wonder you guys lost to a team like Kirisaki last year.”
Aizen watched Takasago going on and on at his upperclassman before the game had even started.
He leaned over to a third-year teammate and asked, “What are they yapping about?”
“Nothing much.
Let me warn you—if you get onto the court later, don’t let his trash talk affect your emotions.”
Aizen’s face lit up when he heard that.
Back before he was transported, he was a Level 15 keyboard warrior on the NBA forums.
Was he supposed to be afraid of this?
…
The game began, and the most frustrating thing about Takasago for Teiko was that even if you couldn’t stand him, you couldn’t take him out either.
Teiko’s starting center was on the shorter side—only 181 cm—with average leaping ability and wingspan.
Like Takasago, he was a blue-collar interior player.
But he fell short in almost every category compared to Takasago, which was exactly why Takasago had the confidence to talk trash directly.
Kainan earned the first offensive possession.
Aizen quickly got to see firsthand what one of the so-called best point guards in the country was capable of.
Maki brought the ball up the court, faced Teiko’s starter, Yamazaki Hayato—who had been repeatedly destroyed by Akashi in scrimmages—and immediately drove hard, using his body to overpower his defender.
‘This isn’t Magic Johnson—this is LeBron James!’
A bulldozer-like drive, completely disregarding any kind of finesse.
He just overpowered his man on contact.
Watching his teammate grit his teeth while being pushed back step by step, Aizen immediately thought of LeBron James—that combination of brute strength and athletic ability that defied logic.
This was pure, unadulterated talent suppression that made scoring ridiculously simple.
Maki came into this game seeking revenge, and he was going full throttle from the opening tip.
After bulldozing past Yamazaki, he charged all the way to the basket.
Teiko quickly collapsed their defense, only for Maki to slip the ball discreetly to Takasago, who rose up and threw down a two-handed dunk for the opening score.
“URAAAAH~”
After scoring, Takasago let out a roar so loud that even Aizen’s ears hurt from the sideline.
“Hey, Teiko guys—if you’re still half-asleep, just go back to Tokyo already!”
Nijimura Shuzo and the others still didn’t respond.
Scenes like this had happened many times last year.
With Maki’s overwhelming offensive power, Teiko was forced to shrink their defense.
And every time that happened, Maki would immediately find his teammates and set them up for easy scores.
Because it was nearly impossible to find a player on Teiko’s roster who could match up directly with Maki.
Even Nijimura Shuzo was at a physical disadvantage against Maki.
Seeing this, Shirogane Kozo couldn’t help but glance toward Aizen.
‘If he could slam Aomine to the ground so easily, then Maki shouldn’t be a problem either.’
…
On Teiko’s offensive possession, Yamazaki Hayato brought the ball across half-court and immediately looked for Nijimura Shuzo.
Teiko’s offensive strategy was simple—give the ball to Nijimura Shuzo and let him work.
The defining characteristic of the current best small forward in junior high basketball was that he had no defining characteristic.
He could do everything—score, pass, defend.
He was the type of all-around forward that would fit perfectly in the modern NBA.
Kainan had prepared well.
The moment Nijimura Shuzo caught the ball, Maki immediately pressed up on him, with one or two teammates lurking nearby.
They were clearly determined to prevent Nijimura Shuzo from scoring, forcing him to give up the ball.
Nijimura Shuzo tried a few moves, managing to get only half a step ahead of Maki, when a nearby Kainan player quickly rotated over to help.
He immediately passed the ball down low.
Teiko’s center caught it, turned, and jumped, trying to score before Kainan’s defense could recover.
But Kainan had prepared for exactly this.
“URAAAAH~”
Takasago let out another weird battle cry, leaped up with him, and swatted away Teiko’s first offensive attempt with a resounding block.
“This is Kainan!
This paint belongs to us!
Don’t embarrass yourself with your third-rate offense here!”
‘Damn it!’
Teiko’s players seriously wanted to punch Takasago in the face.
But there was no way around it—on the basketball court, strength was everything.
“Coach Shirogane, should we call a timeout?” Teiko’s assistant coach on the sidelines felt the situation wasn’t looking good.
Kainan had prepared thoroughly for this game, fully learning from last year’s defeat.
They were playing with clear strategy.
Teiko’s tactics were simple but effective, with a high ceiling—after all, Nijimura Shuzo was the best small forward, and with him, Teiko could never be weak.
But Kainan was clearly focused on shutting down Nijimura Shuzo, not even letting him touch the ball.
In this situation, if Teiko’s other players couldn’t step up, Kainan could keep targeting Nijimura Shuzo relentlessly.
He felt this was the time to run some offensive plays for players other than Nijimura Shuzo to relieve the pressure on him, which would then open up the entire team.
“The game’s just started.
No need to rush.”