Akagi suddenly pushed himself to his feet.
His massive frame swayed like a crumbling tower—on the verge of collapse—yet he somehow steadied himself on one leg.
"Akagi!"
Ayako's face turned pale as she rushed forward to support him.
Akagi brushed the doctor's hand aside, his voice hard as iron:
"Give me the spray."
"The strongest one you've got."
The doctor stared at this stubborn "gorilla" for a moment, then finally threw his stethoscope down in frustration.
"Fine, fine! Have it your way!"
With a dark expression, he pulled out a high-strength freezing spray and blasted it onto Akagi's swollen ankle without mercy, then wrapped it tightly with bandages, layer after layer.
"This will temporarily numb the pain and stabilize the joint," the doctor said coldly.
"But let me be clear—if you twist it again, your season is over."
"…Thanks."
Akagi gritted his teeth and carefully tested his footing.
Pain.
Still a piercing, bone-deep pain.
But now it was wrapped in a layer of icy numbness—barely tolerable.
"Ayako, lend me your shoulder."
"Yes, Captain!"
Her eyes reddened as she bit her lip and helped him up.
Step by step, they hobbled out of the infirmary—slow, heavy, almost tragic.
…
The corridor leading to the arena was long and eerily silent.
But the closer they got to the doors, the louder the roaring crowd became—like a tidal wave crashing through the cracks.
"WAAAHHHHH!!!"
"Shohoku! Shohoku! Shohoku!"
"Defense! Defense!"
The sound vibrated through the glass walls, humming with intensity.
Akagi's heart skipped a beat.
That kind of noise…?
Damn it—Ryonan must've pulled ahead.
Or maybe that bastard Uozumi was going wild in the paint, dunking and celebrating like a man possessed?
"…Damn it."
Akagi's face darkened.
In his mind, a hellish scene unfolded automatically—
Sakuragi getting bulldozed by Uozumi, rolling on the floor in humiliation.
Rukawa being toyed with by Sendoh, his expression dark and frustrated.
The scoreboard showing Shohoku down by double digits, the team's morale shattered…
"It's all my fault…"
Akagi clenched his jaw so hard it almost cracked.
His steps quickened—each one like walking on knife blades.
"Captain, slow down! Your foot!" Ayako struggled to keep up.
"There's no time!"
With a low roar, Akagi threw himself forward and slammed the arena doors open.
BANG!
The doors crashed against the wall.
Blinding lights flooded his vision.
The deafening roar of the crowd crashed over him like a tsunami.
Still adjusting to the light, both he and Ayako instinctively looked up at the scoreboard.
As long as we're not losing too badly…
But...
When they saw the bright red numbers—
Akagi's face, braced for disaster… cracked instantly.
Ayako froze too, her mouth wide enough to fit an egg.
The first aid kit slipped from her hands with a loud clang.
The scoreboard read:
[Shohoku 42 : 30 Ryonan]
Shohoku… leading?
By twelve points?!
"Th-this…"
Akagi rubbed his eyes hard, wondering if the painkillers were messing with his brain.
Or maybe he opened the door wrong and somehow stepped into a parallel universe?
When he left, the game was still neck-and-neck.
How did everything flip upside down in just a few minutes?
"Did Rukawa explode?" That was his first thought.
But then—
His gaze was pulled, as if by a magnet, toward the center of the court.
Ryonan was on offense.
The one who should have been dominating the paint—"Monkey Boss" Uozumi Jun—was standing under the basket, ball in hand.
But something felt… off.
This towering beast over two meters tall—
Was hesitating?
No...
He looked afraid.
And in front of him…
Wasn't Sakuragi.
Standing there—loose, relaxed, almost slouching—
Was a familiar figure.
"That's… Makino Juro?!"
Akagi and Ayako shouted at the same time, their voices cracking.
They looked at each other—
And saw the same confusion reflected back:
Who am I? Where am I?
"You're telling me that's Makino Juro?"
"That Juro? The one who'd rather lie down than sit up?!"
"And he's guarding a two-meter giant?!"
Akagi pointed at the court, his finger trembling.
…
On the court.
Uozumi Jun had already snapped.
Facing Makino Juro—the wall that felt like an impenetrable barrier—his mentality had long since shattered into pieces.
"Damn it! DAMN IT!"
"Layups won't go in… dunks won't go in…!"
With a furious roar, he forced up a shot.
Clang!
The ball hit the front of the rim and bounced high into the air.
"Rebound!!"
The entire arena held its breath.
Even with his mentality broken, Uozumi's muscle memory kicked in.
He boxed out instantly, legs coiling like springs as he exploded upward.
His massive body soared, both hands reaching for the ball.
This...
Was a giant's airspace.
But...
Just as his fingertips were about to touch the ball—
A shadow descended.
Like a dark cloud blotting out the sky.
No roar.
No dramatic wind-up.
That figure simply jumped—casually.
Yet he moved faster.
Higher.
More unreasonable.
Before Akagi and Ayako's stunned eyes—
Makino Juro lazily extended one hand mid-air.
The motion wasn't like grabbing a rebound.
It was more like casually plucking an apple from a tree in his backyard.
Smack!
A crisp sound rang out.
With one hand...
Right over Uozumi's head—
Juro picked the ball out of the air.
Not snatched.
Not contested.
Picked.
A complete dimensional mismatch.
A public execution of a center's pride.
Boom!
They landed.
Makino Juro stood firm, holding the ball in one hand—
His face calm, almost bored.
As if to say: Is that all?
Meanwhile, Uozumi staggered backward—
Like his spine had been ripped out...
Before collapsing onto the floor.
His eyes were empty.
His face ashen.
Like he had just seen the end of the world.
Silence fell over the arena.
For one second.
Then...
The explosion of cheers nearly tore the roof off.
"WHAT THE HELL!! Another one-handed rebound?!"
"That's brutal! He's treating Uozumi like a kid!"
"That's a GUARD?! What kind of guard plays like that?!"
…
At the entrance.
Akagi still stood frozen in the doorway, like a statue.
A gust of wind swept past him, snapping him back to reality.
He looked at Juro—the demon god ruling the paint.
Then at Uozumi—collapsed on the floor, questioning his entire existence.
Then at Ayako—whose jaw had practically dropped off.
"…Ayako."
Akagi's voice was dry, like he had swallowed sand.
"Did I… walk into the wrong arena?"
"Or did that fall earlier knock my brain loose?"
Ayako swallowed, shaking her head stiffly.
"Captain… I was about to ask the same thing…"
"The guy dominating the paint and playing Uozumi like a fool…"
"…is that really Juro?"
Akagi felt his entire worldview collapsing.
The paint dominance he had always been proud of—
The rival he had seen as a lifelong enemy...
In front of this usually lazy substitute guard…
Looked as fragile as paper.
"…You're telling me this is a guard?"