The once roaring arena fell silent—as if all the air had been sucked out in an instant.
Every pair of eyes widened.
Mouths hung open wide enough to fit a lightbulb. Minds completely froze.
What just happened?
No contact?
No foul?
Just… a single crossover?
Kiyota Nobunaga…
Dropped to his knees?
At center court.
Kiyota knelt on the floor, both hands bracing against the hardwood, his face blank with disbelief.
A scorching wave of humiliation surged up his cheeks like molten lava, making his whole body tremble.
He wanted to stand.
Wanted to roar.
But he couldn't.
Because a shadow loomed over him.
Makino Juro didn't drive past.
Instead, he held the ball in one hand and simply stood there—right in front of the fallen Kiyota.
Looking down at him.
From above.
His gaze was icy. Completely devoid of warmth.
He lowered his eyes slightly, staring at the trembling opponent beneath his feet.
Not contempt.
But indifference.
As if Kiyota's very existence… was unnecessary.
Makino Juro's thin lips parted.
And he spoke a single sentence that suffocated the entire arena:
"You're holding your head too high."
BOOM!
The words struck like thunder, crashing into everyone's chest.
Domineering.
Arrogant.
Untouchable.
Kiyota Nobunaga's face flushed a deep, liver-red.
Yet under that terrifying pressure, he didn't even dare lift his head.
Makino Juro didn't spare him another glance.
Like stepping over a stone on the roadside, he walked past him casually.
Only then did Kainan's center, Takasago Kazuma, snap back to his senses.
"Stop him!!"
He roared and rushed in to help defend.
But in Makino Juro's eyes—under the Emperor Eye—his movements were as slow as a slideshow.
"Don't get in my way."
A simple stop.
Followed by a between-the-legs pullback.
Takasago's massive body moved as if tugged by invisible strings, lunging awkwardly into empty space—nearly crashing face-first to the floor.
Ahead of him—nothing but open court.
Makino Juro stopped at the free-throw line.
Jumped.
His form was flawless—like a precision machine.
A soft flick of the wrist.
Swish!
Nothing but net.
18:20. The gap shrinks to 2.
Only after the ball bounced away did the crowd remember how to breathe.
"WOOOOOOOAHHHHHH!!!"
"Makino Juro! Makino Juro!!!"
"My God!! What was that just now?!"
"He made Kiyota kneel!! He actually dropped him!!"
"That's brutal!! That's Shohoku's ace!!"
The "Makino Juro Support Club" completely lost it.
Several girls shouted until their voices cracked, waving flags like their lives depended on it.
On Shohoku's bench.
Coach Anzai's teacup trembled slightly, a flash of white reflecting across his glasses.
"Hoh…"
"This level of ball-handling… this kind of pressure…"
"Juro-kun… just how many surprises are you hiding?"
On the court.
Sakuragi Hanamichi's jaw nearly dislocated.
Pointing at Makino Juro's back, he stammered at Rukawa Kaede:
"H-hey… Fox…"
"D-did he just use some kind of sorcery?!"
Rukawa stared at Makino Juro.
In those usually calm, still eyes—
A blazing fire ignited.
His fists clenched tightly, cracking audibly.
"Strong."
"Very strong."
His blood was boiling.
On Kainan's side.
Maki Shinichi's face darkened like a storm about to break.
He strode over and yanked Kiyota—who was still questioning his existence—back to his feet.
"M-Maki-senpai…" Kiyota's eyes were red, shame and fury mixing together.
"Shut up."
Maki patted his back, but his gaze remained locked on Makino Juro's retreating figure.
Number 16.
That explosive aura just now…
Even he—"Emperor Maki"—felt a flicker of unease.
That feeling…
Like meeting his equal.
No—
Like facing a tyrant.
"Shohoku…"
"With Akagi off the court… did they just unleash something even more terrifying?"
Maki's expression turned unprecedentedly serious.
"BEEP!"
The whistle blew.
"Kainan requests a timeout!"
Coach Takato Riki folded his fan, his expression grim.
He understood all too well the impact of that play.
It wasn't just two points.
It was a devastating blow to Kainan's morale.
If they didn't stop this momentum immediately—
They would lose.
Hearing the whistle, Makino Juro paused.
He tilted his head, sweeping his gaze across Kainan's bench before settling on Takato.
A smile curved at his lips—confident… and dangerously sharp.
"A timeout?"
"A wise choice."
He turned and walked toward Shohoku's bench.
As he passed by Maki, he didn't stop—only dropped a sentence lightly, like a verdict.
His voice was soft.
Yet deafening.
"No matter how you struggle, the result won't change."
"Because…"
Makino Juro tapped his temple, a chilling glint flashing in his eyes.
"I… am the Emperor."
…
Kainan's bench felt like solid stone.
Takato's fan froze mid-air.
His usually calculating eyes were wide as bells, locked onto Makino Juro's back.
Crack.
The fan ribs snapped—a sound like his composure breaking.
The delicate balance of tactics in his mind… collapsed completely.
If Makino Juro before was a hidden blade up Shohoku's sleeve—
Then just now…
He had pulled out a full-blown cannon.
An Italian cannon.
That was slaughter.
"Shoyo's Fujima… Ryōnan's Sendoh…"
"They were taken down by a monster like this?"
Takato's gaze shifted from shock to wariness.
He had thought that with Akagi gone, Shohoku's interior would become a buffet—
An easy win for Kainan.
Who would've thought…
That lazy-looking Number 16...
In just one possession—
Would seize every spotlight on the court.
He must be shut down.
If this "bug" wasn't fixed—
Kainan's proud winning streak…
Would end today.
…
Shohoku bench.
"Haa…"
Makino Juro dropped into his seat.
The eerie crimson glow in his eyes faded, returning to their deep black.
In his mind, the template closed.
"This thing really burns through stamina…"
He pulled a towel over his head and started resting.
"WAHAHAHAHA!!"
A wild, explosive laugh rang out beside him, shaking his skull.
Sakuragi, like a pumped-up gorilla, grabbed Makino Juro by the neck, spitting with excitement:
"Master! That wild monkey!!"
He laughed so hard his face twisted, pointing wildly at Kainan.
"He knelt!"
"That arrogant monkey actually bowed to you!!"
"That was awesome!!"
Miyagi Ryota rushed over too, punching Makino Juro lightly in the chest.
His eyes sparkled with admiration.
"That crossover just now… insane!"
"No human can react to that rhythm, seriously!"
Mitsui Hisashi unscrewed a bottle of water and handed it over.
He didn't speak.
But his eyes said it all:
That was badass.
That play wasn't just two points.
It was a shot of adrenaline—
Injected straight into Shohoku's heart.
"Alright, stop shaking me—I'm about to fall apart."
Makino Juro's muffled voice came from under the towel as he pushed Sakuragi's red head away in annoyance.
"Give me one minute to recharge. Quiet."
Everyone instantly understood.
And fell completely silent.
END OF CHAPTER
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