The game resumed, and the pace on the court quickly picked up once again.
Class 3 inbounded the ball.
Oda Tatsumasa caught the pass, used a quick crossover to split the double-team from Class 6, then drove straight to the basket for another effortless layup.
Swish.
The net snapped crisply.
The girls gathered outside the chain-link fence immediately erupted into excited screams, their voices piercing straight through Sakuragi’s ears.
“Oda-kun!
You’re amazing!” “Another one!” “As expected of the Basketball Club’s ace!” Standing beyond the three-point line with his hands on his hips, Sakuragi watched Oda jog back on defense.
His irritation only deepened.
Class 6 brought the ball up.
Their point guard, Inoue, slowly dribbled across half court.
Sakuragi planted himself outside the three-point line and stretched out his hand.
“Inoue!” Inoue glanced at him.
Then at the wide-open space beside him.
He hesitated for only a split second…
Before turning away and passing to someone else.
Sakuragi’s outstretched hand froze in midair.
Without even looking back, Inoue lowered his head and ran up the court.
“…” Taking a deep breath, Sakuragi began moving.
He didn’t actually know what it meant to get open.
He simply relied on the fragmented instincts from his dreams, running toward every open space he could find.
Left.
Right.
Back to the corner.
No one passed him the ball.
Instead, his four teammates continued passing among themselves as though he didn’t exist.
Not one of them even glanced his way.
On the sidelines…
Takamiya was already laughing so hard his voice had become hoarse.
“Come on!” “Give us another airball!” Ohkusu cupped his hands around his mouth.
“Presenting Sakuragi Hanamichi!” “The Triple Airball Performance!” Noma laughed so hard he had to lean against Takamiya’s shoulder.
“I can’t wait for the third one!” Yohei sat quietly on the steps, resting his chin in one hand.
A faint smile lingered on his face.
But unlike the others, his eyes never left Sakuragi.
Suddenly…
A missed shot bounced long.
The basketball ricocheted directly toward Sakuragi.
He reached out and caught it firmly.
He was still standing beyond the three-point line.
At that instant…
The memories from his dream resurfaced.
Yuki Kawamura.
Standing outside the arc.
Raising the ball.
Shooting.
Nothing but net.
Almost instinctively, Sakuragi bent his knees.
His wrist snapped forward.
The basketball soared into the air.
The shooting form remained flawless.
The arc was as beautiful as before.
Then…
Clang!
The ball struck the back of the rim.
It bounced high into the air.
Dropped back down.
Circled the rim twice…
Then rolled off.
It missed.
But this time…
At least it had touched the rim.
Sakuragi silently watched the ball bounce beneath the basket.
Just a little…
It had only been a little short.
The Sakuragi Army completely lost it.
Takamiya laughed so hard he rolled down the steps.
Climbed back up.
Then rolled down again.
Ohkusu clutched his stomach, crouching on the ground because he couldn’t stand anymore.
Noma simply lay flat on the grass, kicking his legs while laughing uncontrollably.
“He’s improving!” Takamiya shouted between fits of laughter.
“He went from an airball to hitting the rim!” Ohkusu wiped away tears.
“At this rate…” “He’ll make one after another hundred shots!” Even Yohei’s shoulders trembled with laughter.
A vein immediately bulged on Sakuragi’s forehead.
But he didn’t have time to settle the score with them.
Over the next several possessions, he kept running up and down the court.
His mind focused on only one question.
In the dream…
The shot always went in.
The form was identical.
The power felt the same.
Even the flick of his wrist matched perfectly.
So why…
Couldn’t he make it?
At that moment, another wave of cheers erupted from outside the fence.
Oda had scored again.
Sakuragi glanced toward him before grinding his teeth.
Forget it.
If he couldn’t shoot…
He’d score another way.
Just then…
Another fragment from his dream surfaced.
This time…
It wasn’t Yuki Kawamura.
It was someone else.
A player named…
Stephen Curry.
But strangely, in this memory, Curry wasn’t shooting.
Instead…
He exploded toward the basket with the ball in both hands.
He leaped into the air…
And violently slammed the basketball through the hoop.
BOOM!
The rim bent under the force.
The entire basket shook violently.
The backboard shattered into countless pieces.
Some unfamiliar English words floated through the dream.
Although Sakuragi couldn’t read them…
Someone inside the dream had told him what it was called.
A…
Slam Dunk.
Not shooting.
Just stuffing the ball straight through the basket.
Sakuragi’s eyes suddenly lit up.
If shooting wouldn’t work…
Then he’d dunk it!
If he shoved the ball directly into the hoop…
There was no way it could miss!
At that moment…
He sincerely believed he was a genius.
Then he discovered an even bigger problem.
No one would pass him the ball.
His teammates continued passing among themselves.
He ran back and forth three possessions.
Raised his hand five different times.
Even shouted, “Over here!” …twice.
No one acknowledged him.
Inoue dribbled near the top of the key.
Sakuragi stood three meters to his left.
There wasn’t a defender within two meters of him.
He was completely…
Wide open.
Inoue looked at him.
Then immediately looked away.
Sakuragi slowly lowered the hand he had been holding up.
The irritation on his face gradually changed.
From annoyance…
To rage.
Sunlight shone across his face.
His brows slowly knitted together.
The confusion in his eyes disappeared.
Replacing it was a murderous glare…
One capable of making every delinquent at Wakou Middle School instinctively shudder.
He strode directly toward Inoue.
Inoue was dribbling casually.
Then…
The light above him suddenly disappeared.
It felt as though a dark cloud had drifted overhead.
He looked up.
Standing before him was Sakuragi Hanamichi.
At 186 centimeters tall, his broad frame completely blocked the sunlight.
His face was only inches away.
His eyes stared directly into Inoue’s.
There wasn’t the slightest trace of humor in them.
“…Give…” “…Me…” “…The ball.” His voice wasn’t loud.
Yet every syllable seemed to be forced through clenched teeth.
A chill shot from Inoue’s tailbone straight to the back of his head.
His body reacted before his brain could.
Plop.
He shoved the basketball straight into Sakuragi’s hands.
Sakuragi caught it.
Then turned toward the basket.
The ball rested securely in his right palm.
His fingers spread wide, gripping its grooves tightly.
He glanced at the hoop.
He was still outside the three-point line.
Quite a distance away.
Normally…
Yuki Kawamura would have taken the shot.
But…
Sakuragi no longer wanted to shoot.
He gripped the basketball tightly in one hand.
His left foot stepped forward.
One enormous stride.
His right foot followed.
A second.
Then a third.
Then…
A fourth.
Holding the basketball in one hand as casually as if it were an apple, his long legs devoured the distance toward the basket.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Every stride shook the concrete.
The defenders from Class 3 froze.
One student instinctively tried to help.
But after seeing Sakuragi charging toward him like an unstoppable freight train…
He unconsciously stepped aside.
It was terrifying.
That red-haired giant looked like a runaway truck.
Sakuragi reached the basket.
Then exploded upward.
His body stretched completely in midair.
His brilliant red hair flared beneath the spring sunlight.
The wind lifted the hem of his school uniform.
His right arm extended high above his head.
The basketball was palmed securely in one hand.
Locked onto the rim— CLANG!!
An explosive metallic crash echoed across the playground.
The entire basket shook violently.
The rim hummed from the impact.
The basketball dropped straight through the hoop, slammed against the concrete, and bounced nearly two meters back into the air.
Silence.
The entire playground fell silent.
The girls outside the fence stopped screaming.
The students on the court stopped moving.
A gentle breeze drifted through the campus, carrying cherry blossom petals across the sky.
Everyone stared blankly at the red-haired boy hanging from the rim.
Sakuragi Hanamichi gripped the basket with one hand, suspended in midair.
The rim bent slightly beneath his weight.
The vibration traveled from the iron rim through his arm and into his shoulder.
Buzz…
A moment later, he released the rim.
He landed lightly on the ground.
Dust scattered beneath his shoes.
Turning around…
He discovered that everyone was still staring at him.
Takamiya’s popcorn spilled onto the ground again.
This time, he forgot to pick it up.
Ohkusu’s eyes were as wide as saucers.
His mouth hung open wide enough to fit an entire fist.
Noma remained sprawled on the grass, twisting his neck at an impossible angle to stare at the basket.
His jaw nearly hit the ground.
Even Yohei’s trademark smile disappeared.
Slowly, he stood up.
His eyes shifted between the basket…
And Sakuragi.
Teacher Takeda’s whistle slipped from his lips, dangling helplessly from its lanyard.
His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
He jumped…
Far too high.
That vertical leap…
That hang time…
Even among every player Takeda had coached in Wakou Middle School’s Basketball Club…
No one possessed athleticism like that.
Not even Oda Tatsumasa.
Then…
Teacher Takeda suddenly remembered something.
Sakuragi’s approach.
One…
Two…
Three…
Four steps.
His expression immediately changed.
He stuffed the whistle back into his mouth.
Beeeeep!
The shrill whistle cut through the stunned silence.
“Traveling!” “The basket doesn’t count!” Teacher Takeda crossed his arms to signal the violation.
“You carried the ball for more than three steps!” “It doesn’t count!” “…Huh?” Sakuragi’s expression instantly shifted from annoyance…
To complete bewilderment.
He blinked.
Looked at Teacher Takeda.
Then looked back at the basket.
“Why doesn’t it count?” he asked with genuine confusion.
“The ball went in, didn’t it?” The corner of Teacher Takeda’s mouth twitched.
The Sakuragi Army instantly came back to life.
“Hahahahaha!” Takamiya rolled off the steps again, pounding the ground while laughing hysterically.
The four of them collapsed into another uncontrollable fit of laughter.
Standing on the court, another vein bulged on Sakuragi’s forehead.
Seeing the increasingly dangerous expression on his face, Teacher Takeda sighed inwardly before patiently explaining, “Sakuragi…” “In basketball, you have to dribble.” He demonstrated with his hands.
“You can’t just grab the ball and run.” “Once you’ve caught it, you have to keep dribbling while moving.” “Otherwise, it’s a traveling violation.” “If you keep running without dribbling…” “That’s a foul.” Sakuragi looked down at the teacher’s demonstration.
Then nodded slowly.
Half understanding.
Half confused.
A thought suddenly surfaced.
In his dream…
Yuki Kawamura had indeed dribbled constantly.
The ball bounced so quickly it sounded like raindrops striking the ground.
“…Then…” Sakuragi frowned.
“How many steps did I take just now?” Teacher Takeda thought for a moment.
“Four.” “Is four steps…
a lot?” “Anything beyond the allowed number is a violation.” Sakuragi fell silent.
It was only one extra step.
The ball had clearly gone in.
Why did basketball have to be so troublesome?