The gymnasium was enveloped in a constant buzz, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the wooden floor echoing through the bleachers, where eager fans followed every movement on the court. The bright scoreboard on the main panel displayed numbers that were already weighing heavily on the team's shoulders:
12:3
Sae, motionless at the edge of the bench, kept his eyes fixed on the game, his long, pale fingers resting lightly on his knees as he analyzed every detail. The game had barely begun, and yet the disconnect between the players was already evident—as if they were fighting against themselves more than against their opponents.
His turquoise eyes, usually calm, sharpened for a moment, reflecting the gym's harsh lights with an almost metallic glint. He didn't blink as he watched yet another failed play unfold—an intercepted pass, a rushed shot that didn't even graze the net. An almost imperceptible sigh escaped his lips before he turned to the coach.
The old man, dressed in an impeccable suit, had snow-white hair and a well-groomed beard that gave him an air of wisdom. His experienced eyes missed nothing, yet he remained calm, as if he had already anticipated this situation.
"Coach, we're going to lose like this." Sae's voice was soft but laced with a calculated coldness.
The coach turned slowly, studying the young man with hair black as ebony before responding. "Sae-san, I thought it would be good to see the team's performance without you. What have you noticed so far?"
Sae didn't hesitate. His gaze swept across the court once more, dissecting every flaw as if reading an open book.
"Kazuya slows down too much when he has the ball—he overthinks, hesitates. Obuya is being marked by two, sometimes three players, and yet he keeps forcing plays on his own. The rest of the team is too far back. The defense is solid, yes, but the offense is practically dead." He paused briefly, his fingers twitching slightly. "And the worst part: their defensive effort is draining their energy. If this continues, neither defense nor offense will work in the second half."
The coach crossed his arms, his stern face revealing he had already reached the same conclusion. A long sigh escaped his lips before he finally nodded.
"You're going in, Sae."
The corner of Sae's lips curved almost imperceptibly, as if he already knew that was the only way out.
"Alright."
He stood up, stretching his shoulders in one fluid motion, as the eyes of the crowd turned toward him.
...
The air inside the gymnasium seemed to vibrate with the energy of the crowd, but to Sae, everything sounded distant—as if he were separated from that world by an invisible barrier. And in a way, he was.
A year ago, he was just an ordinary fan of Kuroko no Basket, reading the manga chapters and watching the matches of the Generation of Miracles as a spectator. Now, he was here, inside that universe that had once existed only on the pages of a magazine. It wasn't a dream, it wasn't an illusion—it was real. And he, a transmigrator, an intruder who knew the secrets of this world before even living them.
At first, he thought about just observing, about not interfering. After all, what was the point of disturbing a balance that didn't belong to him? But Sae was never the type to be content with staying in the shadows of others. He wanted more. He wanted to face the very gods of this world—the Generation of Miracles—and prove that, even coming from another reality, he could surpass them.
And he wasn't unprepared.
"System."
A translucent screen appeared before his eyes, visible only to him.
Name: Sae
Physical Stats:
Height: 190 cm
Wingspan: 194 cm
Dynamic Stats:
Strength: 90
Speed: 87
Bounce (Vertical Leap): 88
Stamina: 91
Basketball Attributes:
Layup: 90
Dunk: 89
Passing: 90
Defense: 98
Rebounding: 90
Extracted Models:
["The Destroyer" Itoshi Rin]
Predator's Eye
Spatial Awareness
Perfect Precision Shot
He smiled inwardly. It wasn't just natural talent—it was the result of brutal training, sleepless nights, and repetitions until his hands bled. He had pushed his body beyond normal human limits, all to extract the abilities of his model: Itoshi Rin, the destroyer of the court.
Three skills. Three lethal weapons.
The coach glanced at him, unaware of the thoughts swirling in his mind.
"Sae, you're in for Kazuya."
He nodded, shedding his warm-up jacket and stretching his arms. The chill of the air conditioning against his skin was almost comforting.
"Finally."
As he stepped onto the court, his turquoise eyes gleamed with an almost supernatural intensity. The crowd roared, the opponents eyed him with disdain—after all, who was this unknown substitute?
But they didn't know.
They had no idea that this wasn't just another player.
He was a predator.
The sound of the whistle still echoed through the gym when Sae received the pass from Obuya. His fingers cradled the ball effortlessly, as if it were an extension of his body. Ahead of him, Matsumoto, the rival point guard, smirked arrogantly, leaning back in a relaxed stance.
"Hey, rookie. Want some advice?" Matsumoto taunted, waiting for a reaction.
Sae didn't respond. His face remained impassive, but something in his eyes shifted—his pupils contracted, turning vertical, like a feline's just before the strike.
[Predator's Eye]
In an instant, the world around him gained new layers of information.
Matsumoto's body weight was slightly tilted to the left—he was anticipating a move to the right.
His right foot was a centimeter too far forward, making him slow to react to a counter-feint.
His eyelids flickered too fast—a telltale sign of nerves.
Sae moved.
An explosive step to the right, forcing Matsumoto to react instantly, just as predicted. But before the defender could regain his balance, Sae stopped mid-motion, switched the ball to his other hand with a sharp crossover, and then—
—vanished.
"Huh?!" Matsumoto spun in place, bewildered.
"MATSUMOTO, BEHIND YOU!" a teammate shouted—but it was too late.
Sae had already blown past his defender like a ghost, exploiting the slightest imbalance his Predator's Eye had detected. The opposing team scrambled to adjust, but Sae didn't slow down. His gaze flickered toward the bench where Kise Ryota, a member of the Generation of Miracles, sat watching with bored disinterest.
'You'll have to get in earlier than you expected, Kise.'
Without hesitation, Sae drove toward the paint, where two defenders closed in on him. A normal pass would be intercepted. A shot would be blocked.
But Sae was no ordinary player.
"Tch."
In one fluid motion, he lifted the ball as if to shoot—the defenders jumped, anticipating the block—but at the last second, his fingers softened the motion, turning it into a no-look pass that sliced through the air like an arrow, straight into Obuya's hands for a smooth layup.
Score: 12-5.
Sae glanced at Kise Ryota on Teiko's bench. The blond prodigy yawned, not even considering stepping onto the court for such an "easy" game.
'Fine… I'll force you to come in.'
Beeeep!
The referee signaled for the inbound. Obuya, exhausted, passed the ball to Sae with sluggish movements. Matsumoto, the opposing point guard, smirked as he stood in front of him.
"Give it up, rookie. Your team's trash. Not even worth trying."
Sae didn't respond. His turquoise eyes narrowed, pupils turning vertical—like a predator's.
[Predator's Eye]
Matsumoto's weight: 70% on his right foot.
His hips were turned left—vulnerable to a crossover.
He blinked twice in one second—a sign of tension.
Instant action. Sae faked right. Matsumoto bit, but before he could recover, Sae whipped out a crossover so fast the ball seemed to vanish, spun 360 degrees as Matsumoto stumbled, and exploded toward the paint.
"Stop him!" shouted the opposing coach.
Two defenders closed in. Impossible to get through? Not for Sae. His Predator's Eye detected:
Defender 1: Left knee weakened by an old injury
Defender 2: Eyes locked on his shoulders, not his waist
Sae faked a pass to the left.
When Defender #1 leaned in, Sae blew past his weak side.
He used his body as a shield against the second defender and finished with a soft floater.
Swish!
12-7
Silence fell over the gym. Kise, who had been lounging on the bench, now sat bolt upright, eyebrows raised.
In the next few minutes, Sae became a defensive hurricane:
He intercepted a simple pass using Spatial Awareness, then weaved through four defenders with pace changes.
He finished with a dunk that made the backboard shudder.
12-9
The opposing coach frantically called a timeout. The rival players stared at Sae as if he were a ghost.
On Teiko's bench, Kise was lacing up his sneakers, unable to hide his grin. Teiko's coach barked:
"Kise! You're in now!"
Sae, sweating but posture impeccable, locked his predatory eyes onto Kise's golden gaze as he stepped onto the court.
"Finally."
The entire gymnasium held its breath as Kise Ryota caught the pass at the baseline. His golden eyes burned with determination, locked onto the opponent's basket. He had already analyzed Sae's move moments earlier—and now, with his unique Copy ability, he replicated every detail with terrifying precision.
"Hmph."
With a sharp grin, Kise exploded forward like lightning, blowing past Obuya with a quick crossover before the defender could react. Kazuma, the center, rushed to cut him off, but Kise had already anticipated it—executing the exact same 360-degree spin Sae had used just minutes before.
"This is mine!"
He leapt, arm outstretched for a spectacular dunk—
Tap!
A crisp sound echoed through the court.
Before Kise could finish the move, the ball was stripped from his hands with surgical precision.
"Wha—?!"
His eyes widened as he saw Sae already in position for the fast break, gripping the ball firmly. Those vertical pupils gleamed under the gym lights, like a predator who had finally cornered its prey.
Before Kise could process what had happened, Sae struck.
The ball whipped low, slipping between Kise's legs, as Sae blew past him like a cutting wind. The crowd roared in disbelief.
"NO!" Kise spun on his heels, muscles screaming as he forced himself to react. He wasn't just any player—he was a Miracle. His footsteps thundered as he chased Sae, determined to reclaim the ball at all costs.
But Sae wasn't just running.
He was orchestrating.
[Spatial Awareness]
The entire gymnasium transformed into a chessboard in his mind.
Obuya and Kazuma were repositioning—he had no passing lanes.
Two defenders clogged the paint but left a narrow corridor to the right.
Kise, in his eagerness, was about to crash into his own teammate.
Sae knew exactly what to do.
He abruptly slowed down, faking a loss of control—the ball bounced erratically, as if about to slip away.
'He fumbled it!' Kise thought, surging forward for the steal.
At the last instant, Sae reacted faster, recovering the ball in one fluid motion and cutting right.
"Tch!"
Kise, already off-balance, collided with one of his own teammates, while the other defenders, disoriented, were now out of position.
Swosh!
Sae drove forward unopposed, finishing with a soft layup that barely grazed the net.
Score: 12-11.
The gym erupted.
Kise, still on the floor after the collision, stared at Sae with a mix of shock and awe.
"How did he...?"
Across the court, Sae adjusted his wristband, his turquoise eyes still gleaming with predatory intensity.
He didn't need to say anything.
The message was clear:
This wasn't luck. It was calculation.
The referee's whistle blew. Kise Ryota, still breathing slightly fast, couldn't contain his curiosity. He approached Sae, who was calmly waiting for the game to resume, his turquoise eyes still holding that strange vertical pupil that seemed to analyze every detail of the gym.
"Hey," Kise called, unable to hide the interest in his voice. "How did you do that?"
Sae turned his head slowly, staring at the golden prodigy with an impassive expression.
"Did what?" he replied, as if he genuinely didn't understand the question.
Kise furrowed his brow, a challenging smirk playing on his lips.
"You broke my attack. How did you do it? I copied your move perfectly—it should've been unstoppable."
For a moment, only the sound of sneakers squeaking on the wooden floor filled the space between them. Then, Sae arched an eyebrow, as if the answer were too obvious to say out loud.
"I just finished what was already broken," he answered, his voice as calm and neutral as his gaze.
Kise froze. "Huh?"
His brain processed the words, but the meaning seemed to slip away—as if Sae were speaking in code.
Before he could question further, the referee's whistle cut through the air, resuming the game. Sae was already walking away, positioning himself for the next play, while Kise remained in place for a second longer, his golden eyes narrowing in a mix of frustration and fascination.
'What does he mean by 'it was already broken'...?'
And then, like a bolt of lightning, understanding struck him.
Kise's move had no flaws—but his execution did.
Sae hadn't broken the attack at the moment of the steal. He had known from the very beginning that Kise, while copying his style, would make a near-imperceptible mistake: a hip tilted one degree too wide, a weak glance at the blind spot, a millisecond too slow in the finish.
And that was all Sae needed.
A chill ran down Kise's spine.
'So… he didn't react to my attack. He already knew how it would end before I even started.'
Kise stared at Sae's retreating back.
'This guy is different. He's like Akashicchi but… He's scarier.'