The opening tip was won.
The instant Sakuragi landed, he palmed the ball with one hand.
Before he had even lifted his head completely, his body was already surging forward.
Oda was waiting directly in front of him, feet spread wide and arms extended, ready to cut off his path to the basket.
But Sakuragi had no intention of going around him.
He dribbled with his left hand, shifted the ball to his right, lowered his center of gravity, and exploded off his right foot.
Like a truck suddenly flooring the accelerator, he blasted past Oda’s right side.
The sheer force of the drive knocked Oda backward two steps before he managed to regain his balance.
Grinding his teeth, Oda spun around and gave chase.
“Get back!
Double-team him!” he shouted.
Class 3 reacted quickly enough.
Two defenders collapsed from either side—one cutting off the front while another closed in from behind, forming a human wall.
A defender stood directly in Sakuragi’s path.
Another blocked his left side.
Anyone else would have passed the ball.
But Sakuragi didn’t know how.
It wasn’t that he refused to pass—he genuinely didn’t know how.
Over the past month, nearly all of his training had been devoted to fundamentals: dribbling, shooting, boxing out, and rebounding.
Team offense and passing had barely been touched.
More importantly…
Passing had never even crossed his mind.
There was only one thing in his head.
Get to the basket.
Put the ball in.
Sakuragi pushed the ball out in front, lowered his shoulder, and charged straight through the defender.
Bang!
The collision echoed across the playground like someone had slammed a heavy table.
The defender was sent stumbling backward three or four steps before crashing onto the ground.
The second defender reached in for a steal, but Sakuragi shielded him off with his left arm, knocking him off balance.
He broke through.
First step—right foot planted, the ball tucked at his waist.
Second step—left foot forward, the ball raised overhead.
Third step— Jump.
His body soared beneath the afternoon sun, his school uniform fluttering wildly in the wind.
His right arm stretched toward the sky, the basketball firmly gripped in his hand.
The rim rushed closer.
Sunlight gleamed off the white-painted iron hoop.
BOOM!
The ball thundered through the basket.
It struck the ground, bounced twice, and rolled out of bounds.
The rim continued trembling, its metallic vibration lingering across the playground.
For a brief moment…
The entire court fell silent.
Then everything erupted.
“H-He dunked…” “The redhead dunked again!” “He jumped so high!” Outside the chain-link fence, the girls screamed in disbelief.
Several covered their mouths, their eyes wide with shock.
The Class 3 defenders stood rooted to the spot, staring as though they’d just witnessed a ghost.
The boy Sakuragi had knocked over still hadn’t gotten up.
He simply tilted his head back, staring blankly at Sakuragi hanging from the rim, his jaw practically touching the floor.
Teacher Yamamoto nearly dropped the whistle from his mouth.
He had been teaching PE for two years and had coached countless students.
But he had never actually seen someone dunk in front of him.
Teacher Takeda had mentioned that Sakuragi possessed incredible athletic talent and could dunk, but Yamamoto had assumed it meant barely forcing the ball over the rim.
Seeing it in person was something else entirely.
That vertical.
That hang time.
That explosive one-handed finish…
It didn’t look like the work of someone who had only been playing basketball for a month.
Then he blew his whistle.
Beeeeep!
Crossing his forearms in front of his chest, he signaled the violation.
“Offensive foul!
Basket doesn’t count!” Sakuragi had just released the rim and landed when he froze.
He slowly turned toward Teacher Yamamoto, completely bewildered.
“Why’s it a foul again?
Why doesn’t it count?” His tone.
His expression.
It was exactly the same as during PE class a month ago— Utterly sincere.
Utterly innocent.
Utterly confused.
Teacher Yamamoto nearly burst out laughing, but somehow managed to keep a straight face.
“When you drove to the basket just now, you committed a clear offensive foul.
You lowered your shoulder into the defender and pushed another player away with your arm.” Sakuragi frowned.
“Then how am I supposed to get past him if I don’t run him over?” Teacher Yamamoto took a deep breath.
He silently decided that he needed to tell Teacher Takeda to get Sakuragi a copy of Basketball Rules for Beginners as soon as possible.
On the sidelines…
“Hahahahaha!” The Sakuragi Army had already collapsed from laughter.
Takamiya was rolling around on the grass, pounding the ground with both fists.
“It went in but didn’t count!
It actually went in and still didn’t count!” Ohkusu crouched on the ground clutching his stomach, his face bright red.
“Last time it was traveling.
This time it’s an offensive foul!
What’s next?!
Hahaha!” Noma laughed until tears streamed down his face.
“He finally gets a dunk, and it doesn’t even count!
My stomach hurts!
Hahaha!” Yohei stood nearby with a grin.
Unlike the other three, he wasn’t laughing so hard he couldn’t stand.
Watching Sakuragi’s utterly baffled expression, he simply shook his head.
“This guy’s been playing basketball for an entire month…” “And he still doesn’t know the rules.” The game resumed.
Class 3 inbounded the ball.
A few crisp passes later, the ball flowed effortlessly up the court.
Bounce pass.
Hand-off.
The offense moved smoothly from backcourt to frontcourt like flowing water.
Sakuragi stood near the paint, eyes glued to the basketball as his head turned from side to side.
He honestly wasn’t sure where he was supposed to stand.
Teacher Takeda had taught him that, as a center, he needed to protect the paint.
But all five Class 3 players were moving around the perimeter, leaving him standing under the basket alone like a telephone pole.
The ball found Oda.
Catching it beyond the three-point line, Oda crossed over, effortlessly shaking off his defender before exploding toward the basket.
Two long strides brought him to the free-throw line.
Sakuragi rushed over to contest.
But Oda sold a convincing pump fake.
Sakuragi bit immediately.
Oda rose into the air, leaning back slightly, and flicked his wrist.
The ball kissed the backboard.
Swish.
Nothing but net.
The girls outside the fence erupted.
“Oda-kun!” “What a shot!” “As expected of the Basketball Club’s ace!” Landing gracefully, Oda glanced at Sakuragi, the corner of his lips lifting into a faint smile before jogging back on defense.
The meaning behind that look couldn’t have been clearer.
See?
That’s how basketball is played.
Sakuragi snorted unhappily.
Class 6 inbounded the ball.
Sakuragi took it himself and dribbled across half court.
The ball slapped rhythmically against the pavement.
Oda stepped up once again.
This time he wasn’t alone.
Another Class 3 player slid over, trapping Sakuragi from both sides.
“Come on,” Oda said, lowering his stance while keeping his eyes locked on Sakuragi’s waist.
Sakuragi dribbled in place.
A thought flashed through his head.
Last time I got called for charging because I ran people over…
Then this time…
I just won’t hit them.
He took a deep breath.
Suddenly, the rhythm of his dribble accelerated.
Left hand.
Right hand.
A quick feint to the left.
Oda instinctively shifted his weight.
Just a little.
That tiny movement was enough.
Sakuragi exploded off his right foot.
His body shot to the right like a bamboo stalk snapping upright after being bent.
With a quick push of the ball, he slipped through the narrow gap between Oda and the second defender like an eel.
No contact whatsoever.
By the time both defenders turned around…
He was already gone.
Three long strides.
One.
Two.
Jump.
This time he didn’t dunk.
Not because he didn’t want to— His takeoff point was simply too far.
Instead, he cradled the ball in one hand and gently floated it toward the backboard.
The ball kissed the glass.
Bounced once.
Dropped cleanly through the hoop.
Swish.
The net rippled gently.
Sakuragi landed, maintaining his shooting follow-through before turning toward Teacher Yamamoto.
Teacher Yamamoto raised his thumb.
Beeeeep!
“Basket counts!
Two points!” Sakuragi’s face instantly changed.
His anxious expression disappeared, replaced by pure delight.
His grin spread from ear to ear.
His eyes narrowed into tiny crescents.
Every wrinkle on his face practically screamed happiness.
Takamiya would later describe it with a brutally honest comparison.
“It looked like a dried chrysanthemum.” But at this moment…
Sakuragi only had one thought.
Scoring isn’t that hard after all!
The next dozen minutes became a showdown between the two stars.
Oda led Class 3 with true team basketball.
The ball zipped between all five players like a shuttle weaving through a loom.
Pick-and-rolls.
Give-and-goes.
Cuts.
Screens.
Off-ball movement.
Sakuragi didn’t understand any of it.
All he knew was that somehow…
The ball always ended up in the basket.
Class 3’s offense flowed like an unbroken river.
As for Class 6…
Their offense consisted entirely of one person.
Sakuragi.
He brought the ball up.
He drove.
He shot.
He dunked.
The other four players were practically decorations.
At first they tried helping.
But whenever they touched the ball, it was either stolen or they missed their shots.
After several failed possessions, they gave up.
Whenever they received the ball, they immediately looked for Sakuragi.
Defense wasn’t any better.
Class 6’s defense resembled a fishing net full of holes.
A couple of quick passes from Class 3 would always create an open shot.
Sakuragi couldn’t guard the entire court alone.
If he rotated left…
The right side opened up.
If he rushed right…
The left side became exposed.
For the first time in his life…
He experienced a strange frustration.
He was exhausted.
He was scoring.
Yet the score difference kept growing.
Beeeeep!
Teacher Yamamoto blew the final whistle.
“Time!” The scoreboard froze.
Class 3: 43 Class 6: 31 A twelve-point defeat.
Cheers exploded outside the fence.
Oda was immediately surrounded.
Some classmates handed him water.
Others offered towels.
Several girls waved excitedly from behind the fence.
“Oda-kun is amazing!” “He scored the most points!” “Of course!
He’s the ace!” On the opposite end of the court, Sakuragi stood with both hands on his hips, breathing heavily.
Sweat streamed down his forehead into his eyes, forcing him to blink repeatedly.
He stared at the scoreboard.
43–31.
They had lost.
Sakuragi lowered his head.
His chest felt strangely tight.
He couldn’t explain why.
Back when he lost fights…
A loss was just a loss.
If he wasn’t strong enough, he’d train harder and beat them next time.
But today was different.
He didn’t feel like he’d lost.
Yet the scoreboard clearly said he had.
“Sakuragi.” Teacher Yamamoto walked over, carrying the scoreboard under one arm.
“You’ve only been playing basketball for a month, right?” Sakuragi looked up with an expression that practically said, You already know the answer.
“…Yeah.” Teacher Yamamoto nodded.
“Then Teacher Takeda was right.” “You really are a genius.” Sakuragi blinked.
His mouth opened slightly before closing again.
They had lost.
Lost by twelve points.
So…
why was he still being called a genius?
“But…
Teacher…” He scratched the back of his head, making his already messy red hair even wilder.
“I lost…
so how am I still a genius?” Teacher Yamamoto smiled and tapped the scoreboard twice.
“You scored twenty-five points by yourself.” “But your teammates only scored six.” He pointed toward Class 3.
“Their forty-three points came from five players working together.” “You were playing one against five.” “Of course you lost.” Sakuragi froze.
One against five…?
Teacher Yamamoto continued.
“Look at Oda.
He didn’t score as many points as you.” “But he organized the offense.” “He passed.” “He defended.” “He made his teammates better.” “Those five players became one unit.” “That’s what basketball is.” He smiled.
“Basketball isn’t a one-man game.” “Even someone as incredible as Michael Jordan needed teammates like Scottie Pippen to compete for an NBA championship.” The teacher patted Sakuragi’s shoulder.
“Your individual ability is already exceptional.” “But basketball is a team sport.” “You’ve only been training for a month.” “Take it one step at a time.” Sakuragi slowly lowered his hand.
He looked toward Class 3.
Oda was surrounded by teammates.
They laughed together.
High-fived one another.
Patted each other on the back.
The atmosphere was full of energy.
Then he looked at his own team.
Two players had already gone to grab water.
One was squatting on the sidelines tying his shoelaces.
Another was dusting off his pants.
No one was looking at the scoreboard anymore.
No one seemed to care whether they had won or lost.
Only then did Sakuragi realize…
Something really was missing.
He scratched his head.
“So…
that’s what it means…” The four members of the Sakuragi Army were still standing where they had been all game.
Takamiya tilted his head.
“So…
we lost.” “Yeah,” Ohkusu nodded.
“By twelve points,” Noma added.
The three of them turned toward Yohei at the same time.
“The game’s over,” Takamiya said.
“So why didn’t Hanamichi lose his temper?” Yohei leaned casually against the chain-link fence with both hands in his pockets.
On the court, Sakuragi was scratching the back of his head while listening attentively to Teacher Yamamoto.
For once, he looked less like a delinquent…
And more like an obedient kid listening carefully to his teacher.
“I don’t know,” Yohei said after a long pause.
“But…” “I think this is a good thing.” The other three exchanged confused looks.
Yohei didn’t explain any further.