The next day.
"First Team, assemble!"
"We'll begin the scrimmages."
"The first-years will face off against the second-years."
"Hey, Miyamoto, we're playing against the second-years!" Daiki Aomine said excitedly as he stood beside Miyamoto Tokima.
The second-years on the First Team were essentially Teikō Middle School's core lineup. Even on a national scale, they were considered top-tier.
Their selection was brutally strict—the strong stayed, the weak were eliminated.
Survival of the fittest. Under such a system, the First Team's second-years were undeniably powerful.
Yet even against such a formidable squad, Daiki Aomine wanted to challenge them head-on.
"Blue Team lineup: Point guard, Seijuro Akashi. Shooting guard, Shintaro Midorima. Small forward, Miyamoto Tokima. Power forward, Daiki Aomine. Center, Atsushi Murasakibara."
"Both sides, take your positions."
Beep!!
The game officially began.
Atsushi Murasakibara jumped for the tip against a second-year senior.
The moment the referee tossed the ball up, Murasakibara leaped straight into the air and flicked the ball back toward his own side.
"He… he's a monster?!" The second-year center responsible for the jump ball stared blankly at the scene in front of him.
He had jumped with all his strength, yet the guy he was facing shot up like a rocket and took the ball in an instant.
"That freshman—how can he jump so high?!"
"He jumped insanely high!!"
"Hey, Miyamoto, did you see that? That purple-haired guy jumped way too high!"
Aomine looked thrilled. He hadn't expected to find such a strong player at Teikō.
"I saw it. He's very strong," Miyamoto Tokima said calmly as he watched.
Familiar with the original story, he naturally knew just how unfair Atsushi Murasakibara was. Whether it was physical ability or innate talent, he was practically born blessed.
The game resumed.
Seijuro Akashi dribbled past half court and passed the ball to Miyamoto Tokima.
The ball's coming to me? He really thinks highly of me.
"Come on. Let me teach this rookie a lesson." The second-year small forward stared sharply at Miyamoto Tokima, as if he already had him under control.
Along the sidelines, more and more people began to gather.
Students who had been training elsewhere rushed over to watch.
For once, the Second and Third Team coaches actually allowed them to spectate.
Naturally, no one turned down such a rare opportunity. Watching a First Team scrimmage meant gaining invaluable experience.
In no time, the entire court was surrounded, packed to the brim.
Miyamoto Tokima stood at the top of the three-point arc with the ball in hand, watching the second-year small forward defend him with arms spread wide—standing a full two steps away.
Why does everyone like to give so much space on defense?
He looked at the senior guarding him with mild exasperation. That distance clearly showed a "let him shoot, don't let him drive" stance.
"You don't like stepping up to defend?"
He said it calmly, then jumped straight up.
"What?"
The second-year small forward tried to react, but before he could even move, Miyamoto Tokima had already released the ball.
"What kind of release speed is that?!"
The senior stared in shock. With that height and that release speed, even if he'd been right in front of him, there was no way he could've blocked it.
The angle was perfect.
It went in.
Watching this, Shintaro Midorima felt a spark of competitive fire ignite in his chest.
He hadn't expected someone else on the team to be this accurate from three—and their release was far faster than his own.
Swish!
The basketball dropped cleanly through the net.
Three points.
Cheers erupted from the crowd.
"My god, that freshman's release is insanely fast!"
"Honestly, with that speed, even Senpai Nijimura might not be able to block it."
"Hard to say. Senpai Nijimura is the number-one power forward in middle school. Handling a first-year shouldn't be a problem."
"But still, with a release like that, that freshman's ceiling is definitely high."
The moment the shot went in, Daiki Aomine rushed over and threw an arm around Miyamoto Tokima's neck.
"Miyamoto, that three was amazing! I've never seen anyone shoot that fast before!"
Every time Aomine saw Miyamoto Tokima shoot, he was amazed all over again.
Too fast. Miyamoto Tokima's release was simply too quick—so fast that people barely had time to react.
Put simply, as long as Miyamoto Tokima's shooting stayed consistent, he would always be the team's most reliable scorer.
The second-year small forward's expression darkened slightly. His teammates quickly stepped in to console him.
"It's fine. That freshman's release really is fast. Just pay more attention to his shot next time."
The small forward nodded, then spoke up. "Next possession—can you get me the ball?"
The second-year point guard hesitated briefly, then nodded.
He understood. Getting scored on by a freshman like that would definitely sting. If his teammate wanted to get it back, he was happy to help.
The second-years inbounded the ball.
The point guard brought it past half court and passed to the small forward outside the three-point line.
"Kid, next time I'm scoring right over your head."
"I'm looking forward to it."
Miyamoto Tokima replied casually, not taking him seriously at all.
"He's looking down on me?!"
The second-year small forward felt anger surge inside him.
He slammed the ball down and drove hard to Miyamoto Tokima's right.
Miyamoto Tokima immediately stepped into his path, reached out, and slapped the ball down hard.
"What?!"
The small forward never imagined that a freshman could not only score on him, but also steal the ball from him on defense.
In all his years playing basketball, this was the first time he'd been completely overwhelmed by someone younger.
Miyamoto Tokima secured the steal and sprinted toward the frontcourt. The second-years scrambled to get back on defense.
"How is he that fast?!" The second-year point guard reacted first, turning to chase—but he couldn't even see Miyamoto Tokima's back.
"Look at that freshman! How can his speed be that ridiculous?"
"Yeah, he's the only one in the frontcourt!"
Miyamoto Tokima charged toward the basket, planted his left foot, and exploded upward. In midair, he transferred the ball from his left hand to his right between his legs, then slammed it into the rim with his right hand.
Boom!
A dull, heavy sound echoed through the gym, and the court fell completely silent.
After a brief pause, murmurs slowly spread.
"Y-you're kidding, right? Pinch me—am I dreaming?"
"Ah—damn, that hurts! I'm not dreaming! That freshman… that freshman really dunked!"
"And it was a between-the-legs dunk! Who is he? Why have I never heard of him before?!"
After the dunk, the second-years all fell silent.
"Hey… is he really a first-year?" the second-year shooting guard asked.
"He… he is," the small forward replied dully. "Looks like… I'm heading to the bench."
He knew it. The moment Miyamoto Tokima completed that dunk, his starting spot was already gone.
With that level of talent, there was no way the coach wouldn't start him.
Any lingering resentment vanished completely after that play. There was nothing he could do—he simply couldn't compete with Miyamoto Tokima.
"At least you got to play for a year. I've been a benchwarmer the whole time," the second-year power forward said, trying to comfort him.
He had always been Shuzo Nijimura's backup, only getting minutes during garbage time in official matches.
The only reason he was even playing in this scrimmage was because Shuzo Nijimura hadn't come to the gym.
On the sidelines, the coach watching the game looked perfectly calm on the surface.
But inside, he was ecstatic.
He'd struck gold. Absolute gold.