Teiko Middle School
Gym No. 1 – Rest Area
As the echo of Satoru Gojo's final words —
"See you tomorrow, you weaklings."
— faded beneath the massive dome of the gymnasium, the suffocating pressure didn't disappear.
Instead, it seeped into everyone's bones like slow-acting poison.
Just minutes ago, this had been nothing more than an ordinary middle school club — filled with sweat, hot-blooded shouts, and childish dreams of victory.
But now…
The backboard still trembled slightly from that single dunk.
Aomine Daiki sat on the floor, gasping for air, his eyes hollow and unfocused.
At that moment, everyone understood—
The sky over Teiko had changed.
"Hey… are you serious…?"
"That monster… he just left like that?"
"Even Aomine… and he didn't score a single point…"
The whispers burst out like a broken dam.
First String captain Nijimura Shuzo stood at the sidelines, rubbing his aching temples. His face twisted into a strange expression — half like he had discovered buried treasure, half like he had swallowed a fly.
He glanced at Coach Sanada.
"Coach… this…"
Coach Sanada slowly pushed up his glasses, eyes still locked on the locker room where Gojo had disappeared. He inhaled deeply.
"No need to say more, Nijimura."
Though his voice sounded calm, his slightly trembling fingers betrayed his excitement.
"A talent like that… putting him in Second or Third String would be an insult to basketball itself."
He paused.
"Rules exist for ordinary people."
Then he declared decisively:
"Prepare the paperwork immediately. Freshman Satoru Gojo will be promoted directly to the First String regular roster. Effective now."
"Straight to regulars?!"
The Second String players gasped.
In Teiko's entire history, there had never been a freshman who earned a regular jersey on day one.
Even Aomine and Midorima had gone through a probation period as candidates.
Nijimura's gaze swept coldly across the gym.
"Any objections?"
Silence.
"If you do, go call that white-haired guy back and play him one-on-one. Whoever wins takes his spot."
The entire gym fell deathly quiet.
Play him?
That wasn't a match.
That was suicide.
By the vending machines outside the locker room
Satoru Gojo leaned lazily against the wall, a can of strawberry milk in his hand.
"Tsk. Too sweet."
He frowned — yet still drank more than half in one go.
For a brain powered by the Six Eyes, sugar wasn't a luxury.
It was fuel.
Even with the system granting him "Infinite Stamina," mental fatigue still demanded sweets.
Suddenly—
[Ding! Congratulations to the host for completing the side quest: Establishing Dominance.]
[Quest Evaluation: Perfect (Opponent shut out. Psychological trauma inflicted.)]
[Reward Obtained: Limitless Cursed Technique — Automatic Defense (Beginner) unlocked.]
[System Note: All hostile objects will now stop one centimeter from your body unless manually deactivated.]
"Automatic mode, huh?"
Gojo nodded in satisfaction.
"Nice. Saves me the trouble of turning it on myself."
An invisible, untouchable repulsion field quietly enveloped him.
Untouchable.
Absolute.
Footsteps approached in a hurry.
"Um—Gojo-kun! Please wait!"
Gojo tilted his head.
Through the edge of his sunglasses, he saw a pink blur running toward him.
Momoi Satsuki.
She clutched a stack of papers and a brand-new uniform. Her cheeks were flushed, breaths uneven, sweat beading on her forehead.
Her large pink eyes shone with nervous excitement.
"Hah… hah… finally caught you…"
She straightened and handed him the uniform.
"Congratulations, Gojo-kun! The coach promoted you to First String regulars! This is your uniform… I wasn't sure about your size, so I got the largest one. It should fit… right?"
Gojo looked down at her.
Within the Six Eyes' vision, he could clearly see it—
Her racing heartbeat.
Her accelerated blood flow.
Her emotional fluctuations.
Every detail.
"Pink-haired manager-san."
Instead of taking the uniform, he extended a finger and lightly pressed it against her forehead, stopping her from getting closer.
"Too close. My personal safety distance is infinite."
"Eh—?! S-sorry!"
Momoi jumped back, face instantly red.
"I-I'm Momoi Satsuki! The first-year manager!"
"I know."
Gojo casually took the uniform and draped it over his shoulder.
"Information gathering specialist. You were analyzing me from the sidelines earlier, weren't you?"
She froze, then lowered her head.
"…Yes. But I couldn't analyze anything. Your data is completely scrambled. Your speed, jumping power… nothing makes sense. It's beyond human limits."
Gojo finished the last sip of milk and flicked the empty can.
Ten meters away—
Clink.
Perfect shot into the trash can.
"Of course you can't analyze it."
He smirked.
"Don't try to understand a god, mortal."
Then he turned away.
"And don't come running around for trivial things like delivering clothes next time. Just leave them somewhere."
"I'm busy."
"Busy sleeping."
He walked off lazily.
Momoi remained standing there, dazed.
"A god…?"
Her heart wouldn't stop pounding.
His personality was awful. Arrogant. Insufferable.
But that back view…
…was unfairly handsome.
The tree-lined path to the school gate
After finally shaking Momoi off, Gojo headed home.
But just as he stepped past the gate—
A gentle, composed voice stopped him.
"Gojo-kun. If you don't mind… may we talk?"
He halted.
There was no need to turn around.
The Six Eyes granted him a full 360-degree perception.
He already knew who it was.
Under the shade of a tree stood a boy with crimson hair.
Posture straight. Hands relaxed. A calm, elegant smile.
Like a king waiting for his subject to kneel.
Akashi Seijuro.
The future captain of the Generation of Miracles.
Gojo slowly turned.
Behind his sunglasses, his azure eyes narrowed slightly.
"Akashi Seijuro."
Satoru Gojo rolled the name around his tongue, a playful lilt in his voice.
"Akashi Seijuro… huh? What can I do for you? If you want an autograph, I didn't bring a pen."
"A sense of humor," Akashi replied calmly, "is also a privilege of the strong."
He didn't show the slightest irritation at Gojo's rudeness.
Instead, he stepped forward.
Though shorter, the natural aristocratic aura he carried kept his presence perfectly balanced — like a young king who never needed to raise his voice to be heard.
"I watched your match just now," Akashi said softly.
"No… to be precise, it wasn't a match."
"It was a slaughter."
His crimson eyes lifted toward the dark lenses of Gojo's sunglasses, as if trying to see what lay behind them.
"Incredible physical ability. Perception beyond common sense. And that merciless way you crush your opponents…"
A small pause.
"Why do you play basketball?"
"Why?"
Gojo shrugged, bored.
"Just killing time. Being invincible gets pretty lonely."
"I see."
A faint light flickered in Akashi's eyes.
"Then perhaps we speak the same language."
"Teiko's motto is Ever-Victorious. Only victory matters. I pursue absolute victory as well."
His tone shifted subtly.
Gentle.
But threaded with control.
"As a future core of the First String, I hope we can reach an understanding. Your strength is a double-edged sword. If left unchecked, it could harm the team. So during practices and matches, I'd like you to cooperate with my tactical arrangements—"
"Stop."
Gojo raised a hand.
Akashi's words cut off instantly.
The air froze.
Even the rustling leaves seemed to fall silent.
Akashi's smile stiffened.
Those gentle crimson eyes sharpened in an instant.
"You said… cooperate?"
Gojo slowly removed his sunglasses.
Azure eyes emerged.
Deep. Endless. Swirling with white mist.
He leaned down slightly, bringing his face close.
In that moment, the overwhelming presence of the strongest — the sheer arrogance of someone who believed Throughout heaven and earth, I alone stand supreme — poured out without restraint.
The temperature seemed to drop.
"Don't get it twisted, young master."
His voice was low, almost lazy — yet every word struck like a hammer.
"I didn't join Teiko to become your pawn."
"Your tactics. Your plans. Your habit of keeping everyone in the palm of your hand…"
"They don't apply to me."
Akashi's pupils contracted.
For the first time in his life—
He felt pressure.
Not psychological.
Instinctive.
Like prey sensing something far higher on the food chain.
All his life, he had been the one controlling the board.
But the person before him…
Was pure chaos.
An absolute exception.
"Don't look at me like that," Gojo said lightly.
He tapped Akashi's shoulder with one finger, gaze cold and mocking.
"I don't take orders. And I'm not interested in teamwork."
"I'm only responsible for winning."
"As for how we win… and when we win…"
A faint smile curved his lips.
"That's for me to decide."
Silence fell.
Azure Six Eyes.
Crimson Emperor Eye — still only budding.
Like two young beasts baring their fangs, probing each other without moving a single step.
A long moment passed.
Then—
Akashi suddenly chuckled.
Softly.
When he opened his eyes again, the sharpness had vanished, returning to that familiar gentleness.
But something deeper had grown stronger.
Ambition.
"I understand," he said.
He stepped back.
"An uncontrollable Ace… how interesting. Since you refuse to cooperate, I won't force you."
"As long as you bring Teiko victory… I can tolerate your willfulness."
"Tolerate?"
Gojo slid his sunglasses back on.
He turned away and waved lazily without looking back.
"Wrong word."
"You should say you're lucky I'm on your side."
And just like that, he strolled out of the gate, hands in his pockets, carefree as ever.
Akashi remained under the tree long after Gojo disappeared.
"…Lucky, am I…"
He murmured, idly turning a Shogi king piece that had somehow appeared in his hand.
"Akashi."
Midorima Shintaro stepped out from behind a tree, pushing up his glasses, expression grim.
"That guy is dangerous. He doesn't respect discipline at all. Someone like him is a ticking time bomb."
"I know, Shintaro."
Akashi's fingers tightened around the Shogi piece.
A meaningful smile curved his lips.
"But bombs are useful."
"When they explode… the destruction is spectacular."
"As long as the enemy is destroyed, it doesn't matter if the weapon is hard to handle."
He paused, recalling those endless azure eyes.
"To tame a wild beast…"
"…the hunter must become stronger too."
Teiko Basketball Club – Old Gymnasium
After the noise in the main gym died down, heavy thuds echoed from the abandoned old gym.
Violent.
Uncontrolled.
Like someone venting their rage through the rim.
"Bastard… bastard!!"
A gray-haired boy kicked a locker hard enough to dent the metal.
Haizaki Shogo.
First String regular. Delinquent. Violent. A thief of talent.
Even though he hadn't faced Gojo directly, the images from earlier—
The effortless 110kg bench press.
Shutting out Aomine completely.
— burned into his brain.
He had always believed he was someone no one dared to mess with.
But that white-haired freshman…
That look.
That look like everyone else was trash.
It pissed him off.
…and scared him.
"Steal the spotlight and just walk away, huh…"
He shoved a cigarette into his mouth. His hands shook so badly it took several tries to light it.
Smoke curled into the air.
His gaze drifted to the regular roster on the wall.
At the very top—
Satoru Gojo
Even ranked above him.
"Satoru Gojo…"
Haizaki crushed the cigarette under his shoe.
"If that pretty face got ruined…"
"…or if a leg accidentally broke…"
"Let's see how arrogant you stay then."
In the darkness, malice quietly took root.
Meanwhile—
At home.
Satoru Gojo lay sprawled across a luxury sofa, eating kikufuku and flipping through manga.
Completely carefree.
Because to him—
A dragon never concerns itself with the jealousy of ants.