Teiko Middle School — Gym No. 1.
Silence.
A suffocating, deathly silence.
For three whole seconds, not a single sound could be heard.
The gym that had been roaring like boiling water moments ago instantly froze over because of one sentence from the white-haired boy at the entrance.
Freshmen.Second String.Third String.
Even the so-called "Generation of Miracles" candidates resting nearby.
Everyone stopped moving.
"…What did that guy just say?"
"Playing house…?"
"He talked to Captain Nijimura like that?"
"Is he insane…?"
Whispers cracked through the stillness like breaking ice.
Then—
They spread.
Turning into a wave of anger.
Standing at the center of the court, veins bulged faintly on Nijimura Shuzo's forehead.
As First String captain, leader of more than a hundred members of a national powerhouse—
He was absolute authority in Teiko's basketball club.
No freshman had ever dared disrespect him like this.
Not once.
His eyes dropped to the crumpled application stuck to his chest.
The handwriting was so messy it looked like it had been written with someone's foot.
Name: Satoru Gojo.
"…Take that paper off me."
His voice was low.
Dangerously low.
"And whoever you are—take off your sunglasses. This is a basketball gym, not your personal stage."
Gojo didn't move.
Instead, he tilted his head like he had just heard something funny.
Behind the lenses, the Six Eyes quietly scanned everything around him.
Then—
He casually stuck a finger into his ear.
"Tsk… this is why I hate crowded places."
His voice wasn't loud.
Yet somehow it clearly reached half the court.
"Hundreds of flies buzzing together… plus that screeching floor noise… it's annoying."
He glanced at Nijimura lazily.
"You're the captain, right? You can actually train efficiently in this environment?"
"That's kind of impressive. The efficiency is terrifyingly low."
It wasn't arrogance.
It was simply how the world sounded to him.
Heartbeats.
Breathing.
Sneakers scraping.
Someone swallowing across the gym.
All of it crashed into his brain at once.
Without the sunglasses to block information—
It was sensory overload.
If he didn't finish things quickly, his head might actually explode.
"You bastard—!"
A Second String senior finally snapped.
He rushed forward and grabbed for Gojo's collar.
"Show some respect to the captain! Freshmen go to the back! Do you know how long people wait to get into Teiko?!"
His hand shot forward—
Almost touching fabric.
Almost.
Gojo simply leaned half a step to the side.
A tiny movement.
Hands still in his pockets.
Yet the senior grabbed nothing but air.
Because he had lunged too hard, he stumbled forward and nearly face-planted.
"…Huh?"
"Don't touch me so casually," Gojo said flatly.
He lightly dusted off his shoulder.
"My uniform's expensive."
"…Pfft."
A laugh came from the rest area.
Aomine Daiki spun his basketball lazily, grinning.
"Hey, Akashi… that white-haired guy's kinda interesting. That dodge just now — fast."
Akashi's red eyes narrowed slightly.
"It wasn't just speed," he said calmly.
"He predicted the movement the moment the muscles tensed."
"And even surrounded like this… his center of gravity hasn't wavered once."
"That isn't bluffing."
"That's absolute confidence."
"Hmph." Midorima pushed up his glasses. "Disrupting order only causes trouble. People like him don't belong on a team."
At center court, the tension reached its limit.
Nijimura raised a hand, stopping the members who wanted to rush forward.
He understood.
This freshman wasn't the type to listen.
Only strength would shut him up.
"You want to skip everything and go straight to the First String assessment?" Nijimura asked coldly.
"Correct."
Gojo shrugged.
"If you make me do warm-ups with them…"
He pointed at the freshmen running laps.
"…I'll fall asleep."
"So let's skip the appetizers and go straight to the main course."
Laughter exploded around him.
Not friendly laughter.
Mocking.
Malicious.
"Look at this guy!"
"His skin's whiter than a girl's!"
"Those eyelashes are ridiculous!"
"Is he here to play basketball or debut as an idol?"
"Those skinny arms can't even last one full-court press!"
"He'll cry after one bump, watch!"
"Hahaha—!"
In a sport that worshipped strength and physicality—
Gojo looked deceptive.
No bulging muscles.
No exaggerated build.
Just long limbs. Fair skin. Clean lines.
Like a model.
But what they couldn't see—
Was the perfectly optimized muscle structure beneath.
Explosive power compressed into every fiber.
Like a predator hiding its claws.
To ordinary eyes, though—
He was just decoration.
A vase.
Hearing the mockery—
Gojo didn't get angry.
Instead—
His smile widened.
"Delicate skin? No muscle?"
He looked down at his arm.
Then back at them.
Behind the sunglasses, the Six Eyes showed faint pity.
"…How pitiful."
Satoru Gojo sighed.
His voice wasn't loud.
Yet somehow, it crushed every bit of mockery in the gym.
"Because you're weak, you can only judge strength by appearances?"
He tilted his head slightly.
"That's why… this is the limit of mortals."
"What did you say?!" the loudest freshman snapped, face red with anger.
"Enough."
Nijimura Shuzo barked.
Instant silence.
The iron-blooded captain crumpled the application form into a ball and tossed it cleanly into a nearby trash can.
Then he stepped forward.
Even though he was half a head shorter than Gojo, the pressure radiating from years of competition made the air feel heavier.
"Teiko doesn't need useless trash who only know how to talk big," Nijimura said coldly.
"And we don't need peacocks who treat basketball like a stage to show off."
His sharp eyes locked onto Gojo.
"You want a direct First String assessment?"
"Fine."
He pointed toward the testing equipment at the corner of the court.
"Pass the basic physical tests first. If you don't meet First String standards—"
"Get the hell out of this gym."
"And swallow those damn sunglasses while you're at it."
"And if I pass?" Gojo asked lazily.
Nijimura sneered.
"Then I'll give you a chance to challenge the regulars."
"But once you step onto that court, no one's going easy on you just because you look pretty."
"You'll be crying and regretting you ever came here."
"Oh?"
Gojo pushed his sunglasses up slightly.
A dazzling smile spread across his face.
"Then I'm looking forward to it."
He walked past Nijimura.
Long legs. Unhurried steps.
As they brushed shoulders, Gojo tilted his head and spoke softly—so quietly only Nijimura could hear.
"You can even double the standards."
A faint smile curved his lips.
"Because…"
"I'm the strongest."
He headed toward the physical testing area.
The freshmen who had been lining up unconsciously stepped aside.
No one told them to.
Their bodies just… moved.
Instinctively.
First test.
Vertical reach.
A second-year with glasses held the clipboard, already annoyed by Gojo's casual attitude.
"Take off your shoes. Stand under the scale. Put chalk on your fingers and jum—"
"No need."
Gojo cut him off.
He didn't remove his expensive leather shoes.
Didn't use chalk.
Just stood under the backboard.
"I just jump, right?"
"Fix your attitu—"
Whoosh—!
Before the sentence finished—
He was gone.
No deep squat.
No swing.
Hands still in his pockets.
He simply bent his knees slightly—
And pushed off.
Like gravity had forgotten him.
His body shot upward.
Light.
Effortless.
Like a feather caught in a storm.
His head passed the rim.
Still rising.
Higher.
Higher.
Time seemed to stretch.
At the peak—
He even glanced down casually.
As if sightseeing.
Then reached out—
Slap!
His palm tapped the very top edge of the backboard.
A crisp sound echoed through the dead-silent gym.
He landed.
Softly.
No stagger.
No bent knees.
Like he had merely stepped off a curb.
"…Huh…?"
The pen slipped from the recorder's hand and clattered to the floor.
He slowly looked up.
At the clear palm print…
On the top of the backboard.
His throat went dry.
"…Is this what you call a physical test?"
Gojo yawned lazily, dusting off his hands.
"At this height, if I'm not careful, I might hit my head on the ceiling."
He glanced over.
"How many centimeters?"
"If you didn't see clearly, I can jump again."
"N-no need…!"
The second-year hurriedly scribbled on the sheet with trembling hands.
His voice shook.
"It… it exceeded the measurement limit…"
Silence.
Total silence.
The same people who had called him "delicate" moments ago now felt a chill crawl up their spines.
That wasn't jumping.
That was flying.
Not far away—
Aomine Daiki slowly stood up.
The laziness vanished from his eyes.
In its place—
Excitement.
Sharp.
Predatory.
Like a black panther spotting prey.
His lips curled.
"I think I…"
He stared straight at Gojo's back.
"…just found someone like me."