Aomine Daiki Template in Slam Dunk

Aoi Kunisaku stepped onto the court, brushing past Sakuragi Hanamichi, who was just coming off.

Sakuragi's face twisted with frustration and shame. The moment he saw Aoi, he couldn't hold it in anymore and yelled, "Damn you, Aoi! Stealing this genius's spot? You're shameless, despicable, filthy, soulless—"

Aoi ignored him completely. He casually dug at his ear. "You're just a clown. You getting subbed out is perfectly normal."

"What'd you say…?!" Sakuragi's shark teeth flared as he roared in fury. "You totally said something to old man Anzai! That's the only reason I got pulled this early!"

Aoi shot him a sidelong glance and stayed silent.

But that single glance, filled with silent contempt, made Sakuragi's rage shoot through the roof.

"You bastard… You wanna fight, huh?!" Sakuragi lunged forward, face just inches from Aoi's.

Aoi looked at Sakuragi's ridiculous mug closing in and wondered if he should throw the first punch. Not because Sakuragi was that annoying—his hand just itched a bit.

Bang!

A heavy fist smacked down on Sakuragi's head.

Caught off guard, Sakuragi collapsed headfirst onto the ground.

Akagi Takenori withdrew his fist, face dark with frustration. He barked, "You idiot! Shut up and get back to the bench!"

Sakuragi pouted and grumbled, dragging himself off the ground. He looked back over his shoulder with every step, muttering, "Why the hell am I the only one getting subbed out?"

Ayako glanced at him and explained, "Sakuragi, you already have four fouls. One more and you're out of the game."

"Four fouls?" Sakuragi blinked in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Ayako said patiently, "each player can only commit up to five fouls per game. Go past that and you're ejected."

Then she turned toward Aoi Kunisaku, who had just stepped on court. She looked puzzled. "Shohoku's in control right now. Even without Aoi Kunisaku, things are fine. Is Coach just being cautious?"

Hohohoho…

Coach Anzai didn't answer her directly. Instead, he turned to Shimizu Kanon and asked, "Kanon, what do you think?"

Kanon thought for a moment. "I guess… Coach Anzai wants to see how Aoi performs in an official match."

Hohohoho…

Coach Anzai chuckled again and nodded. "Exactly."

With that, both Ayako and Kanon understood why Coach was putting Aoi in.

Aoi Kunisaku had talent, no doubt.

But he'd never played in a formal match before.

And no matter how skilled he was, there was still a big difference between streetball and official competition. The pressure, the pace, the atmosphere—everything was different.

Coach Anzai wanted to see if Aoi could still dominate under real pressure.

But honestly, he didn't need to worry.

To Aoi Kunisaku, a game was a game. Nothing else.

Words like fear, nerves, or hesitation didn't exist in his vocabulary.

…

With Sakuragi out of the way, Aoi Kunisaku stepped onto the court with ease.

His expression was calm. No sign of first-game jitters at all. He looked more like a grandma out shopping at a market than a player debuting in a tournament.

He glanced at the scoreboard.

Shohoku 35 – 44 Miuradai.

Just over a minute left in the first half.

"Took you guys this long and you still haven't caught up? That's pathetic," Aoi said flatly.

Akagi Takenori, Rukawa Kaede, Mitsui Hisashi, and Miyagi Ryota all froze. Their faces turned dark, veins bulging on their foreheads.

Mitsui shot him the finger and snapped, "You damn slacker. Just got here and already mouthing off?"

Miyagi Ryota glared too. "Yeah! You've got a big mouth for a first-year punk."

Akagi gritted his teeth, fists clenched. He growled, "If you want to get off the court now, I won't stop you."

Rukawa Kaede didn't say a word. His eyes locked onto Aoi Kunisaku, full of defiance and fighting spirit.

Aoi Kunisaku stood with one hand on his hip, the other picking at his ear with his pinky. His eyes half-closed, he said lazily, "Less talking, more passing."

In that instant, it felt like four volcanoes exploded straight into the sky.

Mitsui Hisashi, fuming, turned to Akagi Takenori and snapped, "Why the hell did you let this bastard join the team?"

Akagi's face shifted through every shade imaginable—greenish black, reddish green, bluish red. "Since when did I need your permission to pick team members?"

…

Aoi Kunisaku ignored them and casually walked to midcourt.

Just then, the referee blew the whistle.

Tweet—

The match resumed.

Miuradai's ball.

Miuradai's Point Guard, Araki Kazuo, wearing jersey #5, pushed the ball forward.

After getting picked off a few times by Miyagi Ryota, Araki focused most of his attention on him.

As for Aoi Kunisaku, he was just a rookie. Miuradai hadn't spared him a second thought.

Assigned to guard Aoi Kunisaku was their Power Forward, Miyamoto Kazunari, wearing jersey #6.

Looking at Miyamoto's loose stance, Aoi Kunisaku exhaled slowly. "This is kinda pissing me off."

His eyes swept the court and locked onto the dribbling Araki Kazuo.

A moment later, his gaze narrowed. He vanished from Miyamoto's line of sight without a sound.

At that exact second, Araki stopped and passed the ball toward Miuradai's Captain, Murasame Kengo.

Murasame reached for it.

But a white flash flickered in front of him—then the ball was gone.

What?

Murasame's eyes widened. He had no idea what just happened.

Miyamoto finally sensed something wrong.

His mark had disappeared.

Where was he?

Where did he go?

Thump…

Thump…

Thump…

The sound of the ball dribbling caught everyone's attention.

They turned toward it—and froze.

There, behind all of them, was the player in Shohoku's white jersey #9—Aoi Kunisaku.

When did he get there?

Murasame stood stunned.

Realizing the situation, he yelled, "Stop him!"

Miuradai's players spun around and gave chase.

But the moment they did, something unbelievable happened.

The white blur of Aoi Kunisaku sprinted down the court while all five dark-blue Miuradai players desperately tried to catch him.

Somehow, the gap between them kept growing—visibly.

The scene was eerie.

The whole gym fell into dead silence.

Only the rhythmic bounce of the basketball and the screech of sneakers echoed through the air.

Miuradai's coach had jumped to his feet, jaw dropped, completely stunned.

What kind of joke was this?

How could they not catch up to someone dribbling the ball?

Who the hell was Shohoku's #9?

Before anyone could recover, Aoi Kunisaku stormed into Miuradai's key. He soared high and slammed the ball in with one hand.

BANG—

The dunk rattled the gym.

The ball crashed clean through the hoop.

The score on the electronic board shifted again.

Shohoku 37 – 44 Miuradai.

The whole place was dead silent.

Everyone was floored by Aoi Kunisaku's unbelievable performance.