The buzzer's harsh sound echoed through the gymnasium, signaling the end of the first quarter. Players from both teams staggered toward their respective benches, collapsing onto the floor or slumping into seats. Despite having played for only ten minutes, the intensity of the match had drained them as thoroughly as if they'd competed for hours.
"Huff... huff..." Heavy breathing filled the air as sweat dripped onto the polished hardwood.
Renji Fukuhara reached for a water bottle with trembling fingers. After taking several desperate gulps, he upended the remainder over his head, letting the cool liquid cascade down his face and neck. The refreshing sensation seemed to revitalize him slightly, bringing clarity back to his focused eyes.
His gaze drifted toward Rando, who was sprawled on the bench with a towel draped over his head. Even the formidable Zone user wasn't immune to fatigue. The constant activation and deactivation of his enhanced state had taken a visible toll, his chest heaving with each labored breath.
"Gensei-kun," Renji called, his voice steady despite his exhaustion.
Rando lifted the towel slightly, peering out from beneath it.
"That was..." Renji paused, searching for the right words. "Extraordinary. Your skill level is already comparable to professional stars. With proper development, you could reach superstar status within a few years."
The compliment was delivered with such genuine admiration that several nearby players turned to listen. Rando felt a flush of pride, though he knew the praise wasn't entirely deserved. After all, his abilities weren't the result of years of dedicated practice—they were borrowed from Aomine Daiki through the KnK System.
"Thanks," he replied simply, unwilling to appear arrogant. The system might have given him the skills, but he still had to execute them. And maintaining the Zone had proven far more taxing than he'd anticipated.
[System Analysis: Zone State Usage]
[Stamina Consumption: 78% of Maximum]
[Recovery Rate: 12% per Minute of Rest]
[Recommendation: Minimum 5 Minutes Rest Before Reactivation]
Renji's attention shifted to Hinata, who sat on the bench with his massive frame surprisingly unaffected by the exertion. While others gasped for air, the giant's breathing remained steady, his expression placid as if he'd merely taken a light jog rather than defended against national-level players.
"Kurobane-kun," Renji said, his tone filled with equal respect. "Your defensive presence is remarkable. You're already performing at a professional level in terms of paint protection."
Hinata acknowledged the praise with a slight nod, his economy of movement extending even to social interactions.
Across the bench, Toma and Shunpei were offering encouragement to the other freshmen. Though Daigo, Riku, Yuto, and Masaki had been largely overshadowed by Rando and Hinata, their efforts hadn't gone unnoticed.
"You guys showed real heart out there," Toma said, his usual energetic demeanor subdued by fatigue but still warm. "With dedicated practice, you could reach semi-pro level by your second year, maybe even professional status by graduation."
Riku smiled politely at the encouragement, though his eyes betrayed his skepticism. Professional? Me? The gap between his current abilities and that lofty goal seemed insurmountable. His "Explosive First Step" ability had proven nearly useless against the seniors' coordinated defense, and his shooting had been inconsistent at best.
Manager Miyu Takamine moved efficiently among the players, distributing fresh water bottles and towels. Her clipboard was tucked under her arm, filled with notes and observations from the first quarter. Despite her managerial role, her eyes shone with the same excitement as everyone else who had witnessed the extraordinary display of basketball.
Coach Yamashiro rose from his bench with exaggerated effort, stretching his arms above his head and yawning as if he'd just awakened from a nap rather than observed one of the most intense quarters of basketball the gymnasium had ever seen. He scratched his stubbled chin, surveying the exhausted players with half-lidded eyes that missed nothing.
"Good game," he said to Renji, his voice casual. "Just too bad your opponent is too strong."
Renji chuckled helplessly, unable to disagree. The 24-24 score didn't reflect how much he and his teammates had struggled to contain Rando and work around Hinata.
The coach's gaze shifted to Rando, who was still wiping sweat from his face. "Oi, brat."
Rando looked up, surprised at being directly addressed.
"Didn't you say you never played basketball before?" Coach Yamashiro's tone was lazy, but his eyes had sharpened, focused entirely on Rando's reaction.
A nervous laugh escaped Rando's lips. He couldn't exactly explain that he'd downloaded Aomine Daiki's complete skill set through a supernatural system. "It's... my first time playing in an actual game," he said, which wasn't technically a lie.
Murmurs of amazement rippled through the gathered players. Even the volleyball team members who had abandoned their practice to watch were whispering among themselves.
"Basketball genius..."
"Natural talent..."
"Once-in-a-generation player..."
Miyu approached the coach, her expression thoughtful. "Coach, don't you think Gensei-kun would pair perfectly with Amamiya-kun? His scoring ability combined with Amamiya's playmaking could be unstoppable."
Coach Yamashiro considered this for a moment, nodding slowly before shaking his head, as if debating with himself.
"Amamiya?" Rando asked, curiosity piqued. "Who's that?"
Haruto, who had been quietly rehydrating, looked up. "Haruki Amamiya is on our Second String. He's the best playmaker in the school—maybe in the prefecture." His voice carried genuine respect. "His court vision is incredible, and his passes are both creative and precise. He can thread the needle through defenses that seem completely impenetrable."
"He specializes in making his teammates better," Keisuke added. "When you're on the court with Amamiya, your scoring efficiency increases by at least twenty percent. He just knows how to deliver the ball exactly where and when you need it."
Rando nodded, impressed. A player like that would indeed complement his Aomine-style scoring ability perfectly. With a playmaker setting him up, he could focus entirely on finishing rather than creating his own shots, which would conserve stamina and increase efficiency.
"Brat," Coach Yamashiro called again, drawing Rando's attention back.
Rando straightened instinctively, sensing something important in the coach's tone despite its casual delivery.
"You're strong," the coach acknowledged, scratching his side lazily. "Your skills are impressive, no doubt about that."
Rando felt a flush of pride at the praise, especially coming from someone with the coach's background.
"But," Yamashiro continued, his voice suddenly gaining an edge that cut through his lazy demeanor, "you play selfish basketball. And basketball isn't a game meant to be played alone."
The statement landed like a thunderclap in the quiet gymnasium. Rando blinked, taken aback by the criticism. Around him, other players shifted uncomfortably, sensing the weight of the coach's words.
"Basketball is like football, volleyball, and other team sports," Yamashiro continued, his posture still relaxed but his eyes intensely focused. "A single individual can strengthen a team, but they cannot win the game alone. No matter how strong someone is, they can never truly succeed if they play in isolation."
The words struck Rando with unexpected force. He'd been so caught up in the exhilaration of Aomine's abilities that he'd forgotten the most basic principle of the sport. Looking back at the first quarter, he realized he'd barely acknowledged his teammates' existence, let alone attempted to incorporate them into his play.
"Try to play with your team," Coach Yamashiro concluded, "not make them feel like they're just decorations on the court."
The gymnasium fell silent as the coach's wisdom sank in. Even the seniors, who had been playing together for years, seemed to be reflecting on the fundamental truth of his words.
Then, abruptly shifting gears, Yamashiro turned to the seniors. "You've had your fun," he said, his tone sharpening. "Now it's time to get serious and teach these juniors how to play proper basketball."
The change in the seniors was immediate and dramatic. Their postures straightened, their expressions hardened, and a palpable aura of professionalism descended over them as they began to stretch with renewed purpose.
Rando felt a chill run down his spine. The players before him now seemed completely different from those he'd faced in the first quarter. Their casual demeanor had vanished, replaced by the focused intensity of true competitors.
[Warning: Opponent Threat Level Increased]
[Analysis: Professional-Grade Coordination Detected]
[Recommendation: Adjust Strategy to Counter Enhanced Team Play]
Rando suddenly remembered something he'd heard during the pre-game introductions but hadn't fully processed: these weren't just any high school players. The First String had competed in the National Tournament. They weren't merely school-level competitors; they were nationally ranked athletes.
And their coach—the lazy, disheveled man who seemed perpetually on the verge of falling asleep—was a former NBA superstar, the captain of the legendary Riders team that had dominated professional basketball during his era.
The realization hit Rando like a physical blow. He'd been playing against a national-level team that had been holding back, treating the match as a casual exhibition rather than a serious competition.
That was about to change.
He glanced at Hinata, who was frowning slightly, clearly sensing the shift in atmosphere as well. The giant's usual impassive expression had given way to one of concentration, his eyes tracking the seniors' movements with newfound wariness.
"Kurobane," Rando said quietly, "stay alert and don't leave your position. Guard the paint at all costs."
Hinata nodded solemnly. "I protect. No score."
Turning to the rest of his teammates, Rando took a deep breath. "Coach is right. Playing as individuals won't get us anywhere. We need to start functioning as a team."
The other freshmen nodded, though uncertainty lingered in their expressions. They'd spent the entire first quarter watching Rando dominate the ball while they stood around like spectators.
"We need someone with experience in coordinating team play to lead us," Rando continued, looking around hopefully.
Silence greeted his statement. None of the freshmen had significant experience as team captains or playmakers. Daigo's "Freestyle Handles" were flashy but undisciplined, Riku's "Explosive First Step" was a purely individual skill, Yuto's "Instinct Rush" relied on gut feeling rather than strategic thinking, and Masaki's "Silent Exploit" was about finding personal opportunities, not creating them for others.
As for Rando himself, Aomine's style was the antithesis of organized team play—it was wild, unpredictable, and fundamentally selfish. The Zone amplified these tendencies, focusing his awareness entirely on scoring opportunities for himself rather than creating for others.
He inhaled deeply, recognizing the challenge before him. "I'll temporarily take on the captain role," he decided, the words feeling strange in his mouth. "I need you all to trust me, even though I'm still figuring this out myself."
The freshmen exchanged glances before nodding hesitantly. They had little choice—Rando was clearly their strongest player, and no one else was stepping forward to lead.
Hinata, as always, simply accepted Rando's decision without question, his trust seemingly absolute despite their brief acquaintance.
As the five-minute break drew to a close, both teams rose and began moving back toward the court. The atmosphere had transformed completely from the start of the game. What had begun as a casual tryout had evolved into something far more significant—a clash of philosophies, a test of character, and a lesson in the true nature of basketball.
Rando felt the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders as he led his makeshift team back onto the court. The seniors awaited them, their casual demeanor replaced by professional focus, their movements crisp and purposeful.
This would be no ordinary second quarter. It would be a baptism by fire—a harsh but necessary introduction to the world of team basketball at its highest level.
And despite the challenge ahead, Rando couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement.