Slam Dunk:Starting with perfect copy

Kishimoto knew exactly how Tsuyoshi Minami had earned the title of "Ace Killer." It was during last year's national tournament, in the round of 16, when Toyotama faced Shoyo High School, a team also from Kanagawa. At a critical moment in the game, Minami had deliberately targeted Shoyo's ace player, Fujima, with a dirty play that left Fujima injured and forced him to leave the court. Toyotama capitalized on the chaos, pulling ahead and securing the win.

The referees had missed Minami's actions, and he was only called for a common foul. It was a dirty move, but it had worked. And now, Minami was planning to do the same to Kenichi Uesugi.

When Minami mentioned his "Ace Killer" tactics, Kishimoto couldn't help but smirk. "In that case, let's set our sights on him," he said, glancing toward Uesugi. Minami nodded, his expression darkening. "Humph! Of course."

The game resumed, but Toyotama's morale was in shambles. Their attempts to break through Ryonan's defense were futile, and their shots refused to fall. Kishimoto forced a desperate attempt, but the ball clanked off the rim once again. Despite their struggles, neither Kishimoto nor Minami seemed discouraged. In fact, there was a strange confidence in their eyes, a quiet determination that puzzled Ryonan's players.

"What are they so confident about?" Sendoh muttered, glancing at Uesugi. "They're down by 30 points."

Uesugi, however, had already figured out their plan. He had noticed Minami's lingering glances and the way Kishimoto was positioning himself to block the referee's view. It was clear: Minami was about to make his move.

When Uekusa passed the ball to Uesugi, Minami's eyes lit up. This was his chance. He deliberately kept his distance, baiting Uesugi into taking a shot. Uesugi, fully aware of Minami's intentions, obliged. He squared up outside the three-point line and prepared to shoot.

Minami's lips curled into a sinister smile. "Finally, you took the bait," he thought. "Time to take you out of the game."

As Uesugi rose for the shot, Minami lunged forward, his elbow aimed squarely at Uesugi's face. But Uesugi was ready. Drawing on the instincts of Hanamiya Makoto, the so-called "evil genius" of the black and blue team, Uesugi subtly shifted his body mid-air. Instead of Minami's elbow connecting with his face, Uesugi's forearm intercepted the blow, redirecting the force.

At the same time, Uesugi's knee came up slightly, catching Minami square in the nose. Blood spurted instantly, and Minami let out a strangled cry as he crumpled to the floor, clutching his face.

The gym erupted in chaos. Kishimoto, who had been blocking the referee's view, turned to see Minami writhing on the ground, blood streaming from his nose. "What the hell just happened?" he muttered, his confidence shattered.

The referees rushed over, trying to make sense of the situation. Minami, still clutching his nose, screamed at the referee, "He fouled me! Did you see that? He elbowed me!"

But Uesugi remained calm. "Referee," he said, raising his hands innocently, "I was just shooting. He ran into me. Look at my feet—I didn't move."

The referee hesitated. From his angle, it had looked like Minami had initiated the contact. And with Kishimoto blocking his view, he couldn't be sure what had really happened. Reluctantly, he called the foul on Minami.

Minami's rage boiled over. "Are you blind?!" he shouted, his voice dripping with venom. "I'm bleeding! He fouled me!"

The referee, already annoyed by Minami's outburst, blew his whistle sharply. "Technical foul! Blue No. 4, you're ejected from the game!"

As the medical staff helped Minami off the court, Uesugi leaned in and whispered, "I told you before—people like you don't belong on the basketball court." He gave Minami a pat on the shoulder, his expression calm but his eyes cold.

Minami, still spitting curses, was carried away, his pride and his nose both thoroughly broken.

The crowd buzzed with disbelief. "Did you see that? Minami just got himself ejected!"

"Uesugi's so composed. He didn't even flinch when Minami charged at him."

"Yeah, and he even tried to comfort Minami afterward. What a class act!"

With Minami gone, Toyotama's spirit was utterly broken. Uesugi stepped to the free-throw line and calmly sank all three shots, extending Ryonan's lead to 88:49. The game was effectively over.

Coach Taoka Moichi, sensing the victory was secure, subbed out his starters to give them rest for the next round. Even Hikoichi, Ryonan's least experienced player, managed to score his first points of the national tournament, much to the delight of his teammates.

On Toyotama's bench, Coach Kanehira finally felt a semblance of control as he subbed out his demoralized players. For the first time, they listened to him without protest.

The final buzzer sounded, and the scoreboard displayed a decisive 102:56 victory for Ryonan. The crowd erupted in applause, many of them already speculating about Ryonan's chances in the next round.

"Ryonan's incredible! They're making waves in their first national tournament!"

"With Uesugi leading the way, they could go all the way to the Final Four!"

"Who's their next opponent? I can't wait to see them play again!"

As Ryonan's players celebrated their hard-fought victory, Uesugi glanced toward the exit, where Minami had been carried out. He felt no remorse. In his mind, Minami had gotten exactly what he deserved.

Basketball was a game of skill, passion, and respect. And Uesugi was determined to prove that dirty tactics had no place on the court.

After the game, Coach Taoka Moichi stepped into the spotlight, representing Ryonan in a post-game interview with reporters. He answered their questions with a measured tone, careful not to reveal too much about the team's strategies or future plans. While he was confident in Ryonan's strength, he knew better than to make bold claims in front of the cameras. Humility and focus were key, especially in a tournament as competitive as the nationals.

In the locker room, Kenichi Uesugi took a moment to check his system experience value. To his surprise, it had soared to 95%, just a hair's breadth away from the coveted 99%. He was close—so close—to unlocking the Zone. But he knew it wasn't just about reaching the threshold; he needed the right opportunity, the right moment to trigger it. What that moment would be, he wasn't sure yet. But he was ready.

As the team prepared to leave, Hikoichi lingered behind, his expression downcast.

"What's wrong, Hikoichi? Did you forget something?" Uesugi asked.

"No," Hikoichi sighed. "I just… I finally scored in the nationals, and my sister wasn't there to see it."

Hikoichi's sister, Aida Yayoi, had come to Hiroshima to cover the tournament but had been assigned to a different game that day. Missing her brother's moment on the court had clearly left him disappointed.

Coach Taoka overheard the conversation and placed a reassuring hand on Hikoichi's shoulder. "Don't worry. There will be more chances. Keep working hard, and she'll see you shine."

Hikoichi's face brightened at the encouragement. For a substitute player like him, scoring in the nationals was a rare and precious achievement. He just wanted his sister to witness it.

Back at their lodgings, Taoka Moichi distributed a stack of basketball magazines and newspapers he'd gathered. They were filled with coverage of the national tournament, mostly focusing on the favorites: Sannoh, Kainan, Hakata University of Commerce, and others. Sannoh, as expected, dominated the headlines. But one team stood out as a dark horse: Meiho Industries, led by their towering rookie center, Shigehiro Mori. The media had dubbed him the "Treasure of Japanese Basketball," though his brash comment—"What is Sannoh?"—had also earned him some criticism.

Uesugi couldn't help but shake his head as he read. The media's obsession with Sannoh was undeniable, but he knew things were about to change. This year, Ryonan would make their mark.

Hikoichi, flipping through the pages, finally found a small section about Ryonan. The team gathered around, only to discover that the coverage was minimal—just a brief mention of their victory over Kainan in the Kanagawa Prefecture finals. It was clear that, in the eyes of the media, Ryonan was still an underdog.

"Don't let it bother you," Taoka said, sensing the team's disappointment. "The more we win, the more attention we'll get. Focus on the next game, and the headlines will come."

The players nodded, their determination renewed.

Later that evening, the team gathered to review game footage. This time, it was the Osaka Prefecture final between Daiei Academy and Toyotama. As they watched, the Ryonan players were struck by Daiei's impenetrable defense. Even Toyotama's high-powered offense had been stifled, managing only 55 points in the entire game. And that was without Tsuyoshi Minami on the court.

"Daiei's defense is like a moving wall," Sendoh remarked, his tone a mix of admiration and concern.

Taoka Moichi nodded grimly. "They're the ultimate defensive team. If we want to win tomorrow, we'll need to break through that wall."

The room fell silent as the players absorbed the challenge ahead. Daiei Academy was their next opponent, and they were known for shutting down even the most potent offenses. For Ryonan, a team built on offensive firepower, this would be their toughest test yet.

The next day, Ryonan arrived at the arena early, greeted by a buzzing crowd and a sea of reporters. The matchup between the Kanagawa and Osaka champions had drawn significant attention. Even Hikoichi's sister, Aida Yayoi, was there, determined not to miss another of her brother's potential moments.

As the players warmed up, the audience debated which team would come out on top.

"Daiei's defense is unbeatable. They made it to the quarterfinals last year!"

"But Ryonan's offense is insane. They crushed Toyotama and beat Kainan. Don't count them out!"

"It all comes down to whether Ryonan can crack Daiei's defense. That 'moving wall' is no joke."

The starting lineups were announced, and Ryonan's remained unchanged: Yuzumi at center, Fukuda at power forward, Kenichi Uesugi at small forward, Sendoh at shooting guard, and Uekusa at point guard. Taoka had chosen to stick with Fukuda for his offensive versatility, knowing they'd need every scoring option against Daiei's defense.

Daiei Academy's starters were equally imposing: center Nakai Hiromasa, power forward Ryu Kenjima, small forward Nakano Tokuyama, shooting guard Nagase Masataka, and point guard Tsuchiya Jun. Their average height and disciplined positioning made them a formidable defensive unit.

The referee's whistle signaled the start of the game. Yuzumi and Nakai jumped for the tip-off, and Yuzumi's height gave Ryonan the first possession. Uekusa brought the ball up the court, but as soon as he looked to pass to Uesugi, he found his passing lane blocked. Daiei's defense was already in sync, anticipating Ryonan's every move.

Uekusa quickly shifted the ball to Sendoh, but Nagase was on him in an instant. Sendoh faked left, spun right, and managed to shake Nagase—only to find Nakano closing in. Trapped, Sendoh passed back to Uekusa, and Ryonan's fast break fizzled out.

The crowd murmured in awe. "Ryonan's attack got shut down just like that!"

"Daiei's defense is insane. They're like a wall that just keeps moving!"

"This is going to be a tough game for Ryonan."

As the game unfolded, it was clear that Daiei Academy's defense was every bit as formidable as advertised. Ryonan's players would need to dig deep to find a way through. The battle between the ultimate offense and the ultimate defense had begun.