The gymnasium buzzed with the noise of the crowd, but for Satsuki Momoi, the world had narrowed down to a single point: Itoshi Sae.
Her pink eyes, usually so precise, were now locked onto him with an almost feverish intensity. Not even a fly buzzing in her ear would make her blink. She analyzed every movement, every breath, every microexpression—yet, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't decipher him.
"This is... impossible."
Her data notebook was open in her hands, but the pages remained nearly blank. No charts, no statistics, no recognizable patterns.
Sae Itoshi was a paradox.
His technique defied physics.
His speed seemed inhuman.
His balance was flawless, as if he could never fall.
His jump defied gravity.
His strength was precise, never wasted.
And his talent...
"Does it have no limits?" Momoi bit her lower lip in frustration. "Or... can I just not see how far it goes?"
And then, she witnessed something that made her shudder.
Surrounded by three defenders, Sae didn't even hesitate. His turquoise eyes scanned the court in an instant—and then—
Fwoosh!
He passed the ball using his elbow, at such a sharp angle that it seemed mathematically impossible. The ball grazed a defender's shoulder, spun through the air like a guided missile, and landed perfectly in Kazuya's hands—so precise that he didn't even need to adjust to catch it.
Momoi felt a chill run down her spine.
"Passes just like Kuroko's… but at high speed and through the tightest angles possible."
And that wasn't all.
Sae didn't stop.
Without the ball, he became a ghost. His feet danced across the court, weaving past invisible players, slipping between defenders like a shadow.
"What is he doing?" Momoi frowned in confusion.
He wasn't sprinting to reposition himself. He wasn't trying to shake off his mark.
He was… orchestrating.
And then—he struck.
Kiyoshi Teppei, the "Uncrowned King," stole the ball with confidence. He looked ahead, searching for a pass—
Snap!
Before he could react, a hand appeared out of nowhere.
Sae snatched the ball from his hands with surgical precision, his turquoise eyes now sharp as blades.
Kiyoshi froze.
Sae huffed, his chest rising and falling just once—like a predator about to strike.
And then—
Zwoom!
He darted forward like lightning.
The ball slipped between Kiyoshi's legs before he could close them.
Two defenders lunged to intercept, but Sae had already shifted direction, the ball glued to his hand as if controlled by a magnet.
Two more players fell for the fake, their bodies crashing into each other as Sae pivoted, switching the ball between hands in a motion so fluid it looked rehearsed a thousand times.
And then—
BOOM!!!
The dunk echoed through the gym like thunder. The backboard shuddered. The net snapped.
50–26.
The silence was absolute.
The game had ended, but the echoes of Sae's precise passes and devastating dunks still reverberated across the court. As the Shoei players recovered from the humiliation, Sae Itoshi walked calmly toward the locker room, his footsteps light, almost soundless.
"Good luck next time."
His icy voice cut through the air as he passed Kiyoshi, giving him a casual pat on the shoulder—a gesture that might have been mistaken for kindness, if not for the nearly imperceptible smile on Sae's lips. A smile that said: You'll need more than luck.
Kiyoshi didn't respond. His eyes remained fixed on the floor, his hands still trembling slightly.
On the opposite side of the gym, Momoi Satsuki was in crisis.
Her analysis notebook, usually filled with meticulous statistics and precise diagrams, lay open on the floor, pages scattered like leaves in the wind. Her trembling fingers still carried the aftershock—the first time her data had ever failed.
"It's impossible..."
She looked back at the court, where Sae was now chatting with his teammates. His movements were relaxed, almost indifferent, as if the game he had just dominated was nothing more than a warm-up.
"He's not playing basketball the traditional way... it's like he's reinvented the sport."
Anguish tightened her chest. She needed more information. She needed something to help her decipher the enigma named Itoshi Sae.
Her hand trembled as she picked up the phone. The name Aomine Daiki flashed on the screen for a brief moment before she hesitated.
"No... not yet."
First, she needed to face the problem head-on.
Sae was almost at the locker room when a pink-haired figure suddenly appeared in his path, panting.
"Waaah!"
He stopped abruptly, narrowly avoiding a collision. His turquoise eyes—still with that faintly vertical slit in the pupils—landed on the girl now blocking his way: Momoi Satsuki, Teiko's data manager, her face flushed and eyes filled with determination.
For a brief moment, Sae felt a pang of familiarity. As a transmigrator, he knew exactly who she was—and what she wanted.
'Data. She's here for information.'
He tilted his head slightly, strands of his damp black hair dripping with sweat.
"Ah... How can I help you?" His voice was neutral, almost bored.
Momoi swallowed hard. She hadn't planned what to say—everything had happened so fast. Her heart raced, her palms sweaty.
"Ah... I want to go date with you!"
The words spilled out in a rush, unfiltered.
The silence that followed was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Sae blinked slowly.
"Ah, okay."
He began to turn around, almost automatically, before the full meaning of the sentence had even registered in his brain.
His eyes widened.
"What?"
Momoi was already red up to her ears, but she didn't back down.
"I... I want to go out with you! Today! Now!"
She shouted, as if raising her voice would make the situation any less absurd.
Sae stood frozen, completely still, processing.
This wasn't in the script.
As a transmigrator, he was used to predicting every move, every line, every strategy.
But this?
This was new.
And for the first time since arriving in this world—Itoshi Sae was genuinely bewildered.
...
The afternoon wind played with Momoi's pink strands as she waited nervously outside the gymnasium. Her fingers drummed an erratic rhythm against her thighs, and her heart pounded so loudly she could almost hear it.
'What was I thinking?!'
The image of Sae up close—his hypnotic turquoise eyes, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his long lashes cast shadows over his high cheekbones—invaded her thoughts uninvited. She hadn't planned this. All she wanted was data, statistics, a way to decipher him.
But then he leaned in, and the words just… slipped out.
'Why did I say that?!'
She bit her lower lip, imagining a thousand ways to undo the situation. Could she claim it was a joke? That she meant "go out" as in "talk"? But before she could formulate a plan, the gym door swung open.
Sae Itoshi emerged, his lean frame bathed in the golden evening light. He had changed—now wearing a simple black T-shirt and jeans, yet he still looked like he'd stepped straight out of a magazine. His dark hair was slightly damp, and he pushed it back with his fingers in a casual gesture that, inexplicably, made Momoi's stomach flip.
He stopped in front of her, hands in his pockets, and tilted his head slightly.
"Shall we go?"
His voice was softer than during the game, but it still carried that calculating quality that made Momoi feel like an experiment under observation.
She swallowed dryly.
'I... I can't turn back now.'
"L-Let's go!" she agreed, her voice pitching an octave higher than usual.
Sae merely raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. Instead, he started walking, and Momoi hurried to match his pace.
The silence between them was thick, heavy with unspoken tension. Momoi looked to the sides, at the ground, at anything but Sae's flawless profile—until, finally, he broke the ice.
"So," he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Where do you want to go?"
"Ah! Umm…" She twisted her fingers, desperately searching for an answer. "Is… is there a crepe shop around here?"
It was the first thing that came to mind.
Sae stopped walking and stared at her for a long moment, his turquoise eyes scrutinizing her as if she were a particularly interesting problem to solve.
"Crepes." He repeated, deadpan.
Momoi felt her face burn.
'Why did I say crepes?! That's so childish—'
"Fine." Sae shrugged and pointed to the right. "There's a good place on the corner."
And so, under the orange hues of the evening sky, Satsuki Momoi and Itoshi Sae walked side by side toward the crepe shop—a meeting neither of them had planned, yet one that somehow happened anyway.
Meanwhile, hidden behind a nearby tree, Kise Ryota watched the scene with wide eyes, his phone already dialing Aomine.
"DUDE, YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED—"