Slam Dunk:Starting with perfect copy

Most of the audience felt that the halftime score was to be expected. "Hakata University of Commerce is still the stronger team! They easily pulled ahead by 10 points after the timeout!" one fan remarked. "Yeah, I think the second half will decide the winner soon," another chimed in. "Not so fast," someone countered. "Ryonan might still have a chance!"

In the front row of the stands, a towering figure from Sannoh yawned loudly. "This game is boring," he muttered. "There's nothing interesting about their fight."

"True," Nobe Masahiro added jokingly. "At this level, I doubt we'll even need Little Kawata to play tomorrow."

Little Kawata was a freshman at Sannoh, the younger brother of their starting center, Big Kawata. Standing an impressive 210 cm tall, his offensive abilities were exceptional, though his defense remained a weak point. He was considered Sannoh's secret weapon, but based on the current performance of Ryonan and Hakata University of Commerce, it seemed unlikely he'd be needed.

However, Sawakita Eiji, Sannoh's ace player seated nearby, disagreed. He trusted his coach's judgment and believed there was more to Ryonan than met the eye. The yellow-haired team wasn't mediocre—they simply hadn't shown their full potential yet. While Kenichi Uesugi had performed admirably in the first half, Sawakita knew better than to underestimate them.

Inside Ryonan's locker room, the atmosphere was tense. The team had struggled against Hakata University of Commerce's balanced style of play, which emphasized teamwork over individual brilliance. Ryonan had always relied heavily on the standout performances of Kenichi Uesugi and Akira Sendoh, but Hakata's cohesive offense and suffocating defense had neutralized their strengths.

Moreover, Hakata's players weren't slouches individually either—they matched Ryonan's stars blow for blow in the first half. Coach Taoka Moichi carefully weighed his options. After much deliberation, he decided to bring Fukuda back onto the court. While Ikegami's defensive skills were solid, they weren't enough to counter Hakata's team-oriented approach. With Ryonan trailing, Fukuda's offensive firepower could provide a much-needed boost.

Taoka also recognized that Kenichi Uesugi would remain central to their strategy. He had unwavering confidence in Uesugi's ability to turn the tide once he hit his stride. But therein lay the problem: how long would it take for Uesugi to fully warm up? If Ryonan didn't build a substantial lead during that window, the game could slip out of reach.

Still, glancing at Uesugi's calm expression, Taoka felt reassured. There was no trace of doubt or anxiety in the young player's demeanor—a sign that he was ready to rise to the occasion.

The halftime break ended, and both teams returned to the court. The audience immediately noticed Ryonan's lineup change. "Hey, look! Ryonan swapped players again—they're bringing back their original starters!"

"They must've realized the first-half adjustments weren't working," someone observed.

"Even if they switch players, catching up to Hakata will be tough. I think the outcome of this game is pretty clear already."

Yuzumi and Ryutaro stood face-to-face in the center circle once more. As the referee blew the whistle, the two leaped into the air to contest the tip-off. This time, Ryutaro managed to tip the ball ahead to his teammate, Chiba Ichi, who quickly initiated a fast break.

Ryonan's players, caught off guard by Yuzumi's loss at the jump ball, scrambled to recover defensively. Chiba Ichi raced down the court, but Sendoh reacted swiftly, cutting off his path and preventing an easy score.

Hakata's support arrived just in time. Ken Hoshino sprinted in from the left wing, and Chiba Ichi delivered a crisp pass to him. Hoshino took a step inside the free-throw line, raised his right arm, and prepared to finish the play with a flashy tomahawk dunk.

Suddenly, a blur of purple hair streaked into view. Kenichi Uesugi appeared out of nowhere, soaring high to meet Hoshino mid-air. With a powerful swipe of his hand, Uesugi blocked the dunk attempt, sending the ball spiraling away.

"Where did this guy come from?!" Hoshino thought in shock. Just moments ago, Uesugi had been far behind—he couldn't believe how quickly he'd closed the distance.

"Wow! Ken Hoshino's dunk got rejected!" the announcer exclaimed.

"Kenichi Uesugi is lightning-fast! He reached the basket in an instant!"

"And that vertical leap—unbelievable!

On the court, Uekusa grabbed the loose ball and immediately transitioned into a fast break. Hakata's relentless rotation defense had stifled Ryonan's offense throughout the first half, so Uekusa wasn't about to waste this opportunity.

Dribbling furiously toward the center circle, Uekusa found himself shadowed closely by Chiba Ichi, making it impossible to pass to Sendoh, who was already sprinting ahead. At that moment, Kenichi Uesugi surged forward from behind, and Uekusa instinctively passed the ball to him.

Catching the ball near the center circle, Uesugi drew immediate attention from Hakata's defenders, who converged to stop his advance. To their surprise, however, Uesugi abruptly halted his momentum instead of continuing the fast break.

Confusion rippled through Hakata's ranks. It had been a golden opportunity for a quick score—why had Uesugi stopped? Was he losing focus under pressure?

But Uesugi's calm demeanor betrayed no hesitation. He knew exactly what he was doing.

But in the very next moment, Hakata University of Commerce's players—and the entire audience—were left stunned.

Kenichi Uesugi, standing near the center circle, suddenly rose into the air and launched a three-point shot from an almost impossible distance.

"This is insane! Shooting a three-pointer from here ?!" Ishida Yutaka and Matsubara Ryoji, who had been guarding him, froze in disbelief. They'd never seen anyone attempt such a shot in that position. Shocked by the audacity of the move, they didn't even step forward to contest it.

After all, how could a shot like that possibly go in?

"SWISH!"

The sound of the ball slicing through the net echoed across the court. Matsubara Ryoji and Yutaka Ishida turned their heads toward the basket in utter disbelief. The net still swayed gently, confirming what they couldn't believe: Kenichi Uesugi's three-pointer from the center circle had connected perfectly.

"Oh my God! Kenichi Uesugi just hit a three-pointer from the center circle!" the announcer shouted.

"This is outrageous! He didn't push the fast break—he stopped and drained a three-pointer from the center circle!"

"It's just luck! There's no way he's really that good!" one fan argued.

"Luck? Don't kid yourself. Didn't you hear? When he played Toyotama, he sank a three-pointer from the baseline! I saw it with my own eyes!" another countered.

"Really? That's terrifying!"

In the front row of the stands, among Sannoh's supporters, Captain Fukatsu Kazunari leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Kenichi Uesugi.

"Now this game is finally getting interesting," he remarked with a grin.

Sawakita Eiji, seated nearby, nodded slowly. "This guy… he's intriguing. I'd actually like to play against him."

The other Sannoh players exchanged surprised glances. Throughout the national tournament, there had been few—if any—players capable of capturing Sawakita's interest. For him to speak up now was unprecedented.

Kenichi Uesugi's unexpected display had clearly piqued Sannoh's curiosity. Their players began watching him with renewed focus, their earlier dismissive attitudes replaced by wary respect.

On the court, Hakata University of Commerce's players stared at Uesugi as if he were some kind of basketball prodigy—or perhaps a monster. No one shot three-pointers from the center circle. Sure, players occasionally hurled desperation shots from long range as time expired, but those were wild guesses, not deliberate attempts. Yet here was Kenichi Uesugi, calmly stepping up in the middle of the court and draining a shot with absolute confidence.

It wasn't just the skill—it was the sheer audacity of it—that shook Hakata's players to their core.

Determined to respond, Hakata University of Commerce pushed forward. Chiba Ichi dribbled the ball up the court, his eyes locked onto Uekusa as he prepared to attack. With a sudden burst of speed, Chiba accelerated past Uekusa, driving toward the basket. But just as Uekusa scrambled to recover, Chiba stepped back smoothly, retreating beyond the three-point line.

"Gotcha again!" Uekusa thought, rushing to contest the shot.

But as Chiba released the ball, a look of horror flashed across his face. Something was wrong. His shot felt off—it wasn't going to reach the rim.

Before Uekusa could process what was happening, he heard footsteps behind him. Turning his head, he saw Kenichi Uesugi soaring into the air.

BANG!

Uesugi blocked the shot cleanly, sending the ball spiraling away.

Though shocked by Uesugi's sudden defensive intervention, Chiba reacted instantly. As the blocked ball flew past him, he stretched out his right hand and deftly tapped it toward his teammate, Ryoji Matsubara, on the opposite wing.

Chiba knew instinctively that even if he regained possession, scoring against Uesugi would be nearly impossible. There was something different about him in the second half—something far more intimidating than before.

Matsubara caught the pass and found himself wide open. In Hakata's tactical system, every player was encouraged to take shots when opportunities arose; the burden of scoring wasn't placed solely on the ace players. Without hesitation, Matsubara rose for a jump shot.

Just as he released the ball, Chiba Ichi's voice rang out from behind him:

"Be careful!"

Before Matsubara could react, a hand appeared seemingly out of nowhere, swatting the ball away with a thunderous BANG!

"Wow! Hakata University of Commerce's shot blocked again by Kenichi Uesugi!" the announcer exclaimed.

"His defense is suffocating! He just blocked two consecutive shots from Hakata's players!"

The crowd erupted in awe. Kenichi Uesugi wasn't just dominating offensively—he was shutting down Hakata's offense with relentless intensity.

Matsubara Ryoji turned his head and realized it was Kenichi Uesugi who had blocked his shot. "Wasn't this guy just at Chiba Ichi's position? How did he get here so fast?"

Ryoji was immediately stunned. From the moment he caught the ball to releasing his shot, less than two seconds had passed—and yet, Uesugi had sprinted from beyond the three-point line to swat the ball away.

This level of athleticism was simply terrifying.

In the Sannoh section of the stands, Satoshi Ichinokura spoke up in amazement. "His athletic ability is incredible! He pulled off two consecutive blocks in such a short time!"

As one of Sannoh's defensive specialists, Satoshi understood better than anyone what it took to execute blocks like that—not only did it require explosive athleticism, but also impeccable anticipation and timing. Even he doubted he could have done the same in that situation.

No wonder Sawakita had expressed interest in playing against him. This guy's talent truly stood out.

After hearing Satoshi's assessment, the rest of Sannoh's players nodded in agreement. They began to focus more intently on Kenichi Uesugi, their earlier skepticism replaced by cautious respect.

The game resumed, and after Kenichi Uesugi's second block, Yuzumi quickly grabbed the rebound before Hakata's center Ryutaro could react. Ryonan now had possession.

Uekusa slowly dribbled the ball up the court, closely guarded by Chiba Ichi. Chiba remained vigilant, determined not to let Uekusa pass the ball to Uesugi. He could sense that Uesugi's offensive firepower in the second half far exceeded what they'd seen earlier. Who else would dare attempt a three-pointer from the center circle?

Despite Chiba's tight defense, Uekusa managed to find an opening and swung the ball toward Uesugi. Catching it cleanly, Uesugi wasted no time launching into action. His rapid, unpredictable dribbling left Matsubara Ryoji and Ishida Yutaka disoriented.

Within moments, Uesugi spun past Matsubara's defense, using his body as a shield. Just as he prepared to drive further, Ken Hoshino stepped forward to stop him. Together with Matsubara behind him, they formed a double team, seemingly cutting off all of Uesugi's options.

But something felt off. Instead of forcing his way through, Uesugi casually flicked the ball toward the basket with a quick, fluid motion.

Hoshino froze, unsure whether it was a pass or a shot.

"SWISH!"

Hoshino whipped his head around to see the ball sinking through the net. Turning back to Uesugi, his expression was a mix of disbelief and awe.

What kind of move was that? Could someone really score by just tossing the ball? Was basketball supposed to be this easy?

The crowd erupted in excitement.

"Incredible! How did that shot even go in?!"

"I've never seen anything like this before!"

"This guy is unbelievable! Not only is he shutting down Hakata's offense, but he's scoring in the most bizarre ways!"

"It looks like Ryonan's about to make a comeback!"

On the court, Uekusa seized the momentum and quickly pushed the ball up the court. Sendoh had already accelerated into Hakata's half, leaving their defenders scrambling. Spotting the opportunity, Uekusa launched a long, precise pass to Sendoh, who caught it mid-stride and soared through the air for a thunderous two-handed dunk.

53-56, Ryonan was closing the gap. Hakata hadn't scored a single point in the second half.

With no other choice, Coach Takeda called another timeout, hoping to regroup and adjust their tactics. But even after the break, his plans proved ineffective.

Kenichi Uesugi, having activated his Perfect Copy ability, dominated both ends of the floor. On defense, he stifled Hakata's attacks entirely, while on offense, he continued to pile on points.

Six minutes into the second half, Uesugi maximized his Perfect Copy duration, relentlessly pushing Ryonan's lead. By the time his energy reserves were depleted, the scoreboard read 69-56, with Ryonan holding a commanding 13-point advantage.

When Uesugi finally showed signs of exhaustion, Coach Takeda instantly felt a glimmer of hope. The tide of the game might still shift—if Hakata could capitalize on Uesugi's fatigue.