Beep… The sharp whistle cut through the arena.
Meizawa called a timeout.
The coach, unable to stay seated any longer, rose immediately. He had expected an easy game—Sawakita Eiji's dominance, a routine victory, and another championship trophy. But reality had struck him like a thunderbolt.
That red-haired player—Akashi—was no ordinary middle schooler.
Ball-handling smooth as silk. Passes so precise they seemed to read minds. Court vision that encompassed everything. Basketball IQ infuriatingly high. And the move that had brought three of his players crashing to the floor—it was like a thorn embedded in his chest.
For a moment, he wondered: Is this even human?
Even Sawakita Eiji, the school's top player, could not match such exaggerated skill. At this time in the Slam Dunk world—roughly the '80s or '90s—moves like the Ankle Breaker existed only in rare professional games abroad. And yet, here it was, before their very eyes.
On Meizawa's bench, players walked off the court dazed, as though awakened from a nightmare.
The coach approached Sawakita Eiji. "You guard the red-haired kid. Don't let him score again."
Eiji nodded. He, too, wanted to see Akashi's true strength. "And… Coach, what about Sendo?"
The coach's gaze sharpened. "Seiyo only has two real threats: Akashi and Sendo. The other three? Irrelevant. Our plan stays. Double-team Akashi and Sendo. Stick to it. We're ahead—maintain it."
"Yes…" Meizawa's players replied, frustration from Akashi's previous plays replaced by renewed determination.
Seiyo's bench was unusually quiet. No chatter, no laughter—just an oppressive dullness. Players kept glancing at Akashi, wary, almost fearful, as if observing a creature about to unleash chaos.
Sendo wiped sweat from his brow, eyes fixed on Akashi, a mix of surprise, confusion, and something else—something unidentifiable.
Akashi sat silently, calm, eyes closed, breathing measured. But beneath the lids, his heterochromatic eyes flickered intermittently. The halos at their center wavered, as if a non-human force surged and struggled within him. The aura was palpable. Unseen. Unapproachable.
Sendo withdrew his gaze, a wry smile crossing his face. "Who exactly is this guy…"
…And then, from deep within his mind, a voice roared.
"You bastard! How dare you… while I wasn't paying attention…"
The second personality—Akashi—smiled, a mix of smugness and menace. "You said one thing wrong. You didn't resist me; you handed control to me willingly."
"I… handed it to you?" Akashi's voice trembled with disbelief.
"I've told you: you and I are one. Your thoughts are mine, mine are yours. Deep down, you've always known it. You just refused to admit it." The second personality's voice was low, icy. "Whether you accept it or not doesn't matter. The proof is in your own hesitation."
Akashi clenched his teeth, struggling against the truth. He refused to believe it, refused to surrender control.
"Whether you like it or not, I've already shown it," the second personality replied, voice sharp as a blade. "Everything you doubted—teammates, tactics, your own abilities—has been revealed. And now, I act."
In that moment, Akashi's first and second personalities completed a silent, unspoken exchange. He could no longer switch them back. The second personality controlled the body, and Akashi could only watch, helpless yet astonished.
The power, the precision, the sheer dominance—though not a full Emperor's Eye or perfected Ankle Breaker—the second personality had more than enough to handle the current crisis.
Beep… Timeout ended.
Akashi rose slowly, calm and deliberate. His gaze cold, unyielding. He acknowledged no one—not teammates, not opponents, not even the coach. The world existed solely around him.
"Victory is everything," the second personality murmured, voice deep and commanding.
He stepped onto the court. "Watch carefully. This is the futility of relying on teammates." His lips curled into a faint, icy smile. "True power comes from holding your own destiny in your hands. Absolute strength."
As he planted his feet on the hardwood, an even greater sense of pressure radiated from him. Every movement, every breath, every glance screamed: he is the apex.