Slam Dunk:Starting with perfect copy

"Oh my God! Did that just happen?"

"Ryonan's player just shot the ball into Toyotama's basket—from his own half!"

"Am I seeing things? How is that even possible? And it went in!"

"A three-pointer from that distance? That's not just skill—that's pure magic!"

On Toyotama's bench, the entire team sat in stunned silence, their mouths agape as they stared at the court. Toyotama was renowned for their three-point shooting, even among the national competition's elite. Their players, including the substitutes, were sharpshooters in their own right. But this? This was something else entirely.

No one on their team—no one they'd ever faced—could make a shot like that. The distance alone was absurd, but to do it with such precision and confidence? It defied logic.

On the court, Tsuyoshi Minami stood frozen in front of Kenichi Uesugi, his eyes wide with disbelief. His pupils dilated as if he were staring at something otherworldly. Kishimoto, standing a few feet away, wasn't faring much better. He glanced at Uesugi, then at the basket on the opposite end of the court, as if trying to convince himself that what he'd just seen was real. Finally, he raised his hand and slapped himself hard across the face.

"Ouch! That hurt!"

"Damn… this isn't a dream."

Kishimoto's gaze returned to Uesugi, but now his eyes were filled with something deeper than shock—fear.

The game resumed, but the atmosphere had shifted. Toyotama's players moved mechanically, their usual fluidity replaced by hesitation. Itakura brought the ball up the court and passed it to Kishimoto, who was cutting toward the basket. Kishimoto quickly dished it out to the perimeter, where Tsuyoshi Minami was waiting. Minami caught the ball, squared up, and launched a three-pointer.

But Uesugi was already there.

With lightning speed, he closed the distance, his towering frame casting a shadow over Minami. In one fluid motion, he leaped and swatted the ball away.

"Blocked! Uesugi just shut down Minami's three-pointer!

"This Ryonan No. 9 is a monster! He can hit a half-court shot and then block a three like it's nothing!"

"I heard he's Ryonan's ace. He took down Kainan single-handedly last week!"

"No way… this guy's for real?"

The crowd buzzed with excitement, and Uesugi's name spread like wildfire through the stands.

On the court, Tsuyoshi Minami clenched his fists, his frustration boiling over. "Damn it! I was wide open! Where did this guy even come from?!"

But Uesugi wasn't done. He scooped up the blocked ball, took two quick steps, and then—to everyone's astonishment—he stopped at the center circle and jumped again.

"Wait… is he shooting from there? Again?!"

"No way! He can't possibly make another one!"

"If he makes this, I'm calling the cops!"

The Toyotama players watched in stunned silence. They had expected Uesugi to retreat after the block, but instead, he stayed put, his eyes locked on the basket. His expression was calm, almost serene, as if he knew the shot was going in before he even released the ball.

"Swish!"

The net rippled as the ball passed through it, and the gym erupted in chaos.

"He did it again!"

"This is insane! Who even shoots from half-court like it's a layup?!"

"Toyotama's three-pointers are impressive, but this guy's on another level!"

The scoreboard ticked over to 24:23, and Ryonan took the lead for the first time.

Toyotama tried to regroup, but their confidence was clearly shaken. Itakura brought the ball up the court again, passing it to Kishimoto, who was still visibly rattled. As Kishimoto attempted to drive past Fukuda, his mind wandered back to Uesugi's impossible shot.

"How does he even do that?"

His momentary lapse was all Sendoh needed. Sendoh darted in from the side, stole the ball, and fired a quick pass to Uesugi, who was already sprinting toward the frontcourt. The Toyotama players scrambled to defend, but Uesugi stopped abruptly at the center circle.

Tsuyoshi Minami's eyes widened in horror. "He's not going to shoot from there again… is he?"

But Uesugi did just that. He leaped into the air, and the ball sailed in a perfect arc before swishing through the net.

"He made it again! Three half-court threes in a row!"

"Compared to him, Toyotama's three-pointers look like child's play!"

In the stands, a man in a baseball cap and a beard watched intently, his expression a mix of awe and concern. "So this is the prodigy Anzai told me about," he muttered to himself. "This kid's talent is on another level."

If Tsuyoshi Minami and Kishimoto had noticed him, they would have recognized him as Toyotama's former coach, Kitano. He had come to watch the game after hearing about Ryonan's rising star from his old friend, Coach Anzai. But even he hadn't expected to see such a dominant performance.

On the court, Toyotama's morale was crumbling. Their signature three-pointers, once their greatest weapon, now seemed insignificant compared to Uesugi's seemingly effortless shots. It was as if he could score from anywhere on the court, and there was nothing they could do to stop him.

Uesugi's relentless defense only added to their woes. He blocked shot after shot, leaving Toyotama's players hesitant to even attempt a three-pointer. Meanwhile, Ryonan capitalized on their opponent's faltering confidence, steadily building their lead.

By the end of the first half, Ryonan was firmly in control, leading 54:37.

The crowd buzzed with disbelief as the halftime score flashed on the scoreboard: 37 points for Toyotama. The audience, accustomed to seeing Toyotama dominate with their high-scoring "run and gun" style, was visibly disappointed.

"I can't believe Ryonan is this strong! Toyotama only scored 37 points in the first half!"

"Yesterday, they dropped over 70 points by halftime! What's going on?"

"It's not just Ryonan's defense—it's that guy, Kenichi Uesugi. His long-range threes and those insane blocks completely threw Toyotama off their game!"

"Uesugi's a monster! He's carrying Ryonan on both ends of the court. A true two-way player!"

In Toyotama's locker room, the atmosphere was heavy. Tsuyoshi Minami slammed his water bottle against the wall, the sound echoing through the silent room. His frustration was palpable. The rest of the team sat with their heads down, the weight of their poor performance pressing down on them.

Coach Kanehira stood at the front of the room, his expression grim. He had always been skeptical of Toyotama's heavy reliance on offense, their so-called "7-point offense, 3-point defense"

philosophy. Even in the Osaka Prefecture finals, they had struggled against Daiei College, scoring only 55 points. Today, against Ryonan, their flaws were being exposed even more brutally.

At the start of the game, Toyotama's shooting had been sharp, and they had managed to build a small lead. But once Kenichi Uesugi took over, everything changed. His relentless three-pointers and game-changing blocks had shattered Toyotama's rhythm, allowing Ryonan to pull ahead decisively.

Coach Kanehira knew they needed to adjust. "Listen," he began, his voice steady but urgent. "Our current strategy isn't working. We need to make changes. Maybe we should—"

Before he could finish, Tsuyoshi Minami shot to his feet, his face twisted with anger. He grabbed Coach Kanehira by the collar and snarled, "Toyotama doesn't need your changes! We stick to the 'run and gun'—that's what Coach Kitano left us! If 7 points of offense isn't enough, we'll make it 8! We don't need defense! We'll outscore them, no matter what!"

The rest of the team remained silent, their heads still bowed. It was clear they sided with Minami. Coach Kanehira sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He left the locker room, his mind racing but his hands tied.

On Ryonan's side, the mood was starkly different. Coach Taoka Moichi looked at Kenichi Uesugi with a mix of pride and relief. Uesugi had not only turned the game around with his incredible shooting but had also disrupted Toyotama's offense with his defensive prowess. Ryonan's lead was a testament to his impact.

Uesugi sat quietly, drinking water as Hikoichi handed him a towel. He had pushed himself hard in the first half, but his training had paid off. His stamina was holding, and he still had a reserve of energy for the second half.

As the halftime break ended, both teams returned to the court. Toyotama's lineup remained unchanged—Coach Kanehira's hands were tied. He sat on the bench, his eyes distant, as if he had already accepted the inevitable.

Ryonan, however, made a strategic substitution. Coach Taoka replaced Fukuda with Ikegami, prioritizing defense over offense. With Uesugi and Sendoh handling the scoring, Ikegami's defensive skills would be crucial in maintaining their lead.

The second half began with Yuzumi easily winning the jump ball. The crowd erupted in cheers as Ryonan's towering center dominated the paint. "Yuzumi's a beast! He's one of the best centers in the nation!" someone shouted.

Uekusa brought the ball up the court and fed it to Yuzumi in the post. With a quick spin, Yuzumi dunked over Iwata, extending Ryonan's lead to 56:37.

Toyotama tried to respond with their signature fast-paced offense, but Ryonan's defense was ready. Every pass was contested, every shot challenged. When Itakura finally managed to force a three-pointer over Uekusa, the ball swished through the net, bringing the score to 56:40.

The Toyotama bench erupted in cheers, but Coach Kanehira remained stoic. He knew one shot wouldn't change the game.

Ryonan quickly countered. Sendoh drove to the basket and lobbed the ball to Yuzumi, who finished with a thunderous alley-oop dunk. The crowd roared as the score climbed to 58:40.

Toyotama's frustration grew. Their shots weren't falling, and Ryonan's defense was suffocating. Even when they managed to create open looks, the pressure seemed to get to them. Tsuyoshi Minami forced a contested three, but it clanked off the rim.

Ryonan capitalized on every opportunity. Uesugi, cool and composed, drained another three-pointer in Minami's face, pushing the lead to 61:40.

Minami's frustration boiled over as he glared at Uesugi, who simply turned and jogged back on defense.

As the game wore on, Toyotama's morale continued to crumble. Their once-potent offense sputtered, and their defense was nonexistent. Ryonan, on the other hand, maintained their intensity, extending their lead to 82:49.

Kishimoto, gasping for breath, approached Tsuyoshi Minami. "What do we do now?" he asked, desperation in his voice.

Minami's eyes narrowed, a dark smile spreading across his face. "We're not done yet," he said, his voice low and menacing. "I've still got a trump card. Remember how I earned the title 'Ace Killer'?"

Kishimoto's eyes widened as he realized what Minami was planning. The game wasn't over—not yet.