A basketball gym in Tokyo.
A fierce game was underway inside the packed stadium.
A large banner hung above the court:
"Elementary School Boys' Basketball League — National Tournament Finals."
Though it was technically just an elementary school match, the atmosphere said otherwise.
Normally, such games wouldn't draw much attention in Japan. But today, the stands were filled to capacity — far more than anyone would expect for a kids' game.
And the reason behind that was simple.
It was the red-haired boy wearing the white No. 4 jersey on the court.
He stood out immediately — a handsome young boy with a calm and confident aura far beyond his age. His mismatched eyes gleamed sharply beneath his crimson hair, giving him a presence both captivating and intimidating.
This boy was Ake Ryu.
At that moment, the gym was strangely quiet. The air felt heavy, almost oppressive.
The scoreboard above the court showed the reason why.
106 – 56.
A 50-point lead.
Such a massive difference was almost unheard of in a championship final.
Every pair of eyes in the gym was fixed on the red-haired boy.
Because that entire 50-point gap — that complete domination — was all thanks to him.
This year, Ake's performance had evolved yet again. In addition to his incredible passing, he had developed another terrifying weapon — his steals.
In this game, Ake had completely destroyed the opposing point guard's confidence.
His opponent hadn't managed to get past him once.
Not a single successful breakthrough.
Ake had utterly shut him down — a total, merciless suppression.
And since that player was the opposing team's core, the entire team crumbled with him.
Ever since Ake joined the basketball team three years ago, he had overwhelmed everyone with his sheer ability.
His talent stunned not only the players but even the coach.
They looked at him as if he is some kind of monster.
Before long, he was made team captain — though made might not be the right word.
The previous captain had stepped down voluntarily, unable to withstand the pressure of facing Ake's overwhelming presence.
No one — not the coach nor the other players — had any objections.
And Ake didn't refuse.
He hadn't sought the position, but he was confident he could lead the team better than anyone else.
From that point onward, everything changed.
The tall boy who once provoked Ake never dared speak another word to him. He shrank away whenever Ake was nearby.
Ake, however, didn't care. People like that weren't worth his time.
As captain, he focused on improving the entire team.
With his Emperor's Eye, he could instantly see every player's strengths and weaknesses, giving them precise and effective guidance.
Within just a year, the team's overall strength skyrocketed.
Even Coach Tatsuya Nishiwa was shocked.
He often felt like a bystander — as if he, the coach, had become less important than a single elementary school student.
Thanks to Ake's leadership, the team went on to win the national championship two years in a row.
And now, this year, they were about to claim their third consecutive title.
Despite his dominance, Ake didn't let fame get to him.
Even as captain, he often chose to act as a playmaker, refining his passing during matches.
He knew he still hadn't reached Seijuro Akashi's level.
So, game after game, he kept experimenting — honing his precision, his awareness, and his control.
And with every victory, his mastery grew.
He understood one thing clearly: even with Akashi's talent, true strength required effort.
This year marked his final year of elementary school.
As expected, his team won the championship with ease — their third straight national title.
To Ake, it felt as natural as breathing.
He wasn't overly excited; he simply allowed a faint smile to form on his lips.
From today, he would say goodbye to this team.
As a sixth grader, graduation awaited him.
Ahead lay a new chapter — junior high school.
A few months later.
Inside the Ake family manor, the rhythmic sound of a basketball echoed through the private court.
Bang... bang... bang...
Ake sprinted back and forth across the polished floor, sweat dripping from his forehead, soaking through his shirt.
He was now twelve years old.
It had been twelve years since he arrived in this world.
And in those twelve years, he had changed beyond recognition.
His crimson hair gleamed under the sunlight. His heterochromatic eyes glowed with quiet dominance. His refined bearing gave off an aura of nobility — a kingly presence that made others instinctively lower their gaze.
Ake had grown into a strikingly handsome young man — the kind who could make flowers bloom and traffic stop just by walking by.
Name: Ake Ryu
Height: 174 cm
Weight: 66 kg
Abilities:
Perfect Pass
100% Steal Rate
Ankle Breaker
…and more.
In short, Ake possessed Seijuro Akashi's talent, along with the many abilities that came with it.
However, his young body still limited his full potential.
By his estimation, he would need to wait until high school before he could truly unleash everything — including entering the Zone.
As for the Zone itself, Ake didn't yet understand how to activate it. Whether he would ever reach it remained uncertain.
Standing alone on the court, Ake's eyes flickered with a golden light.
The Emperor's Eye — activated.
He was about to attempt Seijuro Akashi's signature move: the Ankle Breaker.
Bang… bang… bang…
The basketball echoed as he dribbled, his feet moving rhythmically across the court.
Gradually, his pace increased.
It was as if an invisible opponent stood before him.
After a while, Ake suddenly shifted — his body gliding past the phantom defender as he drove toward the basket.
He bent his knees, gathered his strength, and leapt upward, ball in hand, aiming for the dunk.
But the rim loomed just out of reach.
Clang!
The ball hit the rim and bounced away.
Missed.
Landing softly, Ake stared at the ball rolling across the floor and murmured to himself.
"Failed again, huh? Guess dunking's still a bit too much for now."
He wasn't discouraged.
His height and jumping power still weren't enough — but that would change with time.
He was confident that one day, he'd be able to dunk effortlessly.
And he already had a clear plan.
He would join the basketball club again in junior high, continue sharpening his skills, and push himself to reach Seijuro Akashi's level — or surpass it — by the time he entered high school.
As for which school he'd attend?
That didn't matter.
What mattered was simple.
Becoming the best.