The referee stood at center court with his whistle between his lips, the basketball cradled in his right hand.
Sakuragi Hanamichi crouched in the jump-ball circle, knees bent, arms raised, his eyes locked on the ball.
His heart pounded wildly.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
It felt as though someone was beating a drum inside his chest, every heartbeat slamming against his ribs.
His throat tightened.
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
The sounds around him suddenly became distant.
The cheers from the stands, his teammates’ voices, the footsteps of the opposing players—all of it seemed muffled, as though separated by a wall of water.
The only things he could hear were his heartbeat and his breathing.
His body felt stiff.
His shoulders were tense, his arm muscles rigid, and even the angle of his bent knees felt wrong.
No matter how he adjusted, something just didn’t feel right.
What the hell am I nervous for?
he cursed inwardly.
Then, without warning, an image flashed through his mind.
The arena from his dream.
A massive stadium beneath dazzling lights, rows upon rows of packed spectators.
Yuki Kawamura sat on the bench, hands gripping the edge of his seat, his heels tapping the floor unconsciously as he stared at the court with longing in his eyes.
That desperate yearning to play.
His eyes never left the court, not even for a second.
It was garbage time.
Only the final few minutes remained, and the score difference was already impossible to overcome.
Then the coach called his name.
He stood up, took off his warm-up jacket, and stepped onto the court.
Only a few minutes.
Maybe only a few dozen seconds.
Yet he gave everything he had.
Dribbling.
Sprinting.
Defending.
Fighting for every loose ball.
Every sprint felt like running a hundred-meter dash.
Back when Sakuragi had first seen that dream, he’d thought the guy was an idiot.
The game’s already over.
Why keep fighting?
But Yuki Kawamura hadn’t cared.
What mattered to him wasn’t winning anymore.
It was those precious few minutes.
Those fleeting few dozen seconds.
Every single second he was allowed to stand on the court.
Sakuragi slowly exhaled.
His breathing steadied.
The tension melted from his shoulders.
His stance naturally settled into the proper position.
The dampness disappeared from his palms.
The stiffness that had gripped his body drifted away like smoke scattered by the wind, vanishing from his fingertips to his toes.
He raised his head.
His eyes passed the referee’s hand…
Passed the basketball…
And settled on the basket across the court.
Tweet!
The referee’s whistle pierced the air.
With a flick of his wrist, the basketball shot upward.
The orange ball spun beneath the arena lights as it climbed toward the ceiling.
It reached its peak…
Then began to fall.
The instant it started descending— Sakuragi exploded upward.
His toes drove into the hardwood.
His body stretched to its limit in midair, his right arm shooting skyward, fingers spread wide.
He was like a streak of crimson lightning.
Across from him, Koyo Junior High’s center had only just begun to jump.
His feet hadn’t even fully left the floor before a towering shadow swallowed him whole.
Sakuragi’s fingertips met the ball first.
With a light tap, he redirected it toward the left wing.
The ball flew straight into Akiyama’s waiting hands.
Only then did Koyo’s center finally reach the peak of his jump.
The entire arena erupted.
Compared to that red-haired monster’s leap…
The opposing center looked as though he were moving in slow motion.
Sakuragi landed.
The sound of his shoes striking the hardwood was completely drowned out by the crowd’s collective gasp.
Without pausing for even an instant, he bent his knees again and exploded toward the offensive end like a stone fired from a slingshot.
His white jersey clung tightly to his body in the wind.
His blazing red pompadour streamed backward as he sprinted.
Before Koyo’s defenders had even organized their transition defense, Sakuragi had already reached the paint.
He planted himself beneath the rim.
His hips lowered.
His arms spread wide.
He boxed out the trailing defender perfectly.
Position secured.
Akiyama calmly dribbled across half court.
He wasn’t a star player.
But he handled the ball steadily and delivered accurate passes.
That was enough.
He spotted Oda calling for the ball from the left forty-five-degree angle.
Bounce.
The pass skipped once across the floor and landed perfectly in Oda’s hands.
Facing the basket, Oda gave a quick glance left, shifting his defender’s balance.
The next instant, he drove hard to the right.
One explosive step was enough to gain half a body’s advantage.
But Koyo Junior High had anticipated it.
The weak-side defender immediately abandoned his assignment and rushed over.
A double-team.
One defender on each side.
Oda was trapped.
There was almost no room left to dribble.
On Koyo’s sideline, the head coach folded his arms confidently.
He had studied Wakou Middle School thoroughly.
Their offensive centerpiece was Oda.
As long as Oda was smothered by double-teams, Wakou’s offense would collapse.
As for everyone else…
He didn’t believe anyone could carry the load.
Then…
His smile froze.
Instead of forcing his way through…
Instead of taking a difficult shot…
Oda casually flicked the ball toward the right side of the rim.
“Sakuragi!” Sakuragi heard the shout.
His eyes immediately locked onto the ball’s flight.
His body reacted instinctively.
A slight bend of the knees.
A tiny adjustment of his feet.
Half a step to the left.
Then…
He launched himself.
That single leap left everyone inside the gym speechless.
His body rose almost straight upward.
His white jersey fluttered beneath the lights.
At the peak of his jump…
His fiery red hair nearly brushed the rim.
For Yohei and the others in the stands…
They could almost hear the roar of an airplane taking off.
Still airborne…
Sakuragi reached up with his right hand.
His fingers spread wide.
He caught the ball securely.
The momentum carried him toward the basket.
His core tightened.
Power surged from his waist through his shoulder and into his arm.
His body twisted gracefully in midair.
Then…
BAMMM!!
He hammered the ball through the hoop with both power and authority.
The entire rim bent violently beneath the impact.
The ball ripped through the net…
Bounced twice on the floor…
And rolled harmlessly out of bounds.
Silence.
The packed gymnasium became eerily quiet.
Hundreds of people.
Not a single voice.
No one moved.
No one even blinked.
Then…
The arena exploded.
“An alley-oop!
That was an alley-oop!” “A middle schooler actually pulled off an alley-oop dunk?!” “Who is that red-haired kid?!” “Wakou Middle School!
Number 15!” “How high did he jump?!” Gasps.
Cheers.
Screams.
Thunderous applause.
The entire crowd erupted like a dam bursting open, excitement flooding every corner of the arena.
Several boys leaped to their feet, pointing wildly at the court as they shouted.
This was middle school basketball.
Players capable of dunking were already incredibly rare—few enough to count on one hand.
An alley-oop dunk?
That belonged to an entirely different world.
For most middle school students, alley-oops only existed in NBA magazines or television highlights.
Something you admired from afar.
Yet now…
They had just witnessed one with their own eyes.
The Wakou Middle School bench exploded in celebration.
Every substitute jumped to his feet, towels flying through the air.
Coach Takeda stood frozen on the sideline, his mouth hanging open.
He knew Sakuragi could dunk.
He knew the boy possessed extraordinary leaping ability.
But witnessing it…
In an official game.
On the very first possession.
In the opening round of the prefectural tournament.
After coaching basketball for so many years…
For the first time, he felt his eyes couldn’t keep up with what they had just seen.
In the stands…
Yanai Yuri stared at the red-haired figure hanging from the rim.
Something tugged gently at her heart.
It was impossible to describe.
As though an invisible hand had softly squeezed her heart…
Then let it go.
Even her heartbeat had unconsciously changed its rhythm.
Her eyes remained fixed on Sakuragi.
She couldn’t look away.
Sakuragi released the rim and dropped back onto the hardwood with a dull thud.
His brilliant red hair shone beneath the arena lights.
His white No.
15 jersey fluttered gently behind him.
Almost instinctively, he turned toward the stands.
Yanai Yuri was already looking at him.
Across the entire gymnasium…
Their eyes met once again.
The corners of Sakuragi’s lips slowly lifted.
Proud.
Smug.
And just a little cocky.
Then…
Smack!
Oda slapped him hard across the back.
“Get back on defense!” “Oh!” Sakuragi snapped back to reality and immediately turned, sprinting toward the other end of the court.