The intensity of Teikou's first-string training never let up. After his match against Kise, Souta Fujimura felt the weight of expectations pressing down on him even more. He had proven that he could keep up, but that wasn't enough.
He had to surpass the others.
But how?
The Generation of Miracles were freakishly talented. Aomine was unstoppable in one-on-one situations. Midorima's shooting range was unreal. Murasakibara's sheer size and strength made scoring against him nearly impossible. Akashi saw everything before it happened. And Kise could copy any move.
Souta knew he needed something more.
And that meant pushing himself beyond his limits.
The coach gathered the first-string players in the gym after practice.
"You are all gifted players," the coach began, his voice stern. "But talent alone isn't enough. From today onward, we will start specialized individual training. Each of you will focus on a different aspect of your game."
He turned to Aomine. "You will refine your instincts further."
To Midorima. "Your shooting consistency will be tested beyond your limits."
To Murasakibara. "Your endurance must improve. Strength alone is not enough."
Then, the coach's eyes landed on Souta.
"And you, Fujimura…"
Souta straightened.
"You will train in speed and deception. Your strength is your ability to move unseen. We will push that to the extreme."
Souta's heart pounded. Speed and deception…
This was exactly what he needed.
The next day, Souta's special training began.
A coach brought him into a smaller gym, separate from the others. Inside, various obstacles were set up—cones, agility ladders, even moving dummies.
"The goal," the coach explained, "is for you to move so quickly and fluidly that even the sharpest players lose sight of you."
Souta exhaled. He had already developed Phantom Step, but this was different.
He had to refine it.
The first drill involved weaving through the dummies without being detected.
If he failed, a sensor would light up, signaling that he had been "seen."
Souta crouched low, muscles tensed.
Then, he moved.
At first, the challenge was frustrating. The sensors caught him every time.
No matter how fast he moved, the system tracked him.
"This isn't just about speed," the coach said. "You need to disrupt expectations. Make people see what isn't there."
Souta narrowed his eyes.
Disrupt expectations…
Then it hit him.
Instead of moving as fast as possible, he slowed down in certain moments, making his movement unpredictable.
It worked.
The sensors started missing him.
After hours of drills, Souta was exhausted. His legs burned, but his movements were smoother than ever.
That's when a familiar voice called out.
"Still training, Fujimura?"
Souta turned to see Kuroko standing at the entrance of the gym.
He smirked. "Yeah. Gotta keep improving."
Kuroko stepped forward. "Then let's test it."
Souta blinked. "Wait. You mean—?"
Kuroko nodded. "A match. One-on-one."
A battle of misdirection.
They took their positions on the court.
Kuroko had the ball first.
Souta focused. He had played alongside Kuroko countless times, but this was different.
The moment Kuroko moved, Souta almost lost sight of him.
Damn! He's even better than I remember!
Kuroko's skill wasn't speed—it was erasing his presence.
Souta chased after him, but Kuroko kept slipping past his vision.
Before he knew it—
Swish.
Kuroko scored.
Souta exhaled. I see. He's already mastered misdirection far beyond me.
But that didn't mean Souta would lose.
His turn.
Souta dribbled forward, and Kuroko mirrored his movements.
This was his chance.
He activated Phantom Step—but delayed it slightly, creating an unexpected rhythm shift.
Kuroko reacted—but a fraction too late.
That was all Souta needed.
He cut inside and finished with a smooth layup.
Kuroko's eyes widened slightly. "Impressive."
They continued playing, each testing the limits of their abilities.
By the end, both were exhausted.
But Souta had learned something crucial.
If he wanted to become one of the strongest, he had to combine speed and deception perfectly.
He wasn't there yet.
But he was getting closer.
As Souta and Kuroko finished, another presence watched from the shadows.
Akashi Seijuro.
His crimson eyes gleamed as he observed Souta's footwork.
"Interesting," he murmured.
A new piece had entered the chessboard.
And Akashi never lost at chess.