Chapter 12: I’ll Train You Myself

“One more shot, Haizaki.”

Miyamoto Tokima lightly spun the basketball on his finger and spoke in a calm, flat tone.

“With strength like this, I really don’t know where you got the nerve to provoke me.”

Hearing Miyamoto Tokima’s taunt, Shogo Haizaki felt a blaze of anger rise in his chest.

From childhood until now, he had never suffered such humiliation. At that moment, he desperately wanted to rush forward and punch Miyamoto Tokima.

But when he saw Daiki Aomine and Atsushi Murasakibara standing nearby, watching him like hawks, he forced that anger down and decided to settle things after school instead.

He clenched his fists, said nothing, and took up a defensive stance.

He knew he was already beaten. Rather than endure further humiliation here, it was better to end the match quickly and wait for a chance after school.

Seeing that Shogo Haizaki stayed silent and focused on defense, Miyamoto Tokima continued provoking him verbally.

“This possession, I’ll break through on your right.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Miyamoto Tokima burst forward from the left.

It looked like a left-side drive—but it was a feint.

With a sharp, explosive crossover, he shifted from left to right in an instant.

Haizaki’s defense was blown apart immediately.

“Huh? Not defending?”

Miyamoto Tokima noticed that Shogo Haizaki hadn’t moved at all. He was just standing there, staring at him with pure resentment.

Something clicked in Miyamoto Tokima’s mind.

So that’s it. He’s planning to ambush me after school.

Fine. Let’s see who’s really tougher.

Losing interest in dragging this out any further, Miyamoto Tokima casually lifted the ball and laid it in.

Five to zero.

No suspense. A complete shutout.

“As expected, a shutout. Only Miyamoto Tokima could pull that off—he’s incredible.”

“Yeah, honestly, even Captain Nijimura might not win that easily.”

“Miyamoto Tokima is way too strong. I can already picture Teikō Middle School dominating the middle school basketball scene.”

The spectators weren’t particularly surprised. After all, Miyamoto Tokima had already overwhelmed Teikō’s core lineup earlier.

“Miyamoto! You’re insane!”

Daiki Aomine ran over, slung an arm around Miyamoto Tokima’s neck, and laughed loudly.

“Miyamoto, what did it feel like when you entered that No-Self State?”

“How did you get into it? Can you teach me?”

He fired off questions nonstop.

Shintaro Midorima didn’t move, but his ears were clearly perked up, listening intently.

“Aomine, Miyamoto just finished a match. Stop bombarding him with questions.”

Satsuki Momoi stepped in, her tone mildly scolding, though she secretly found the scene warm and comforting.

She loved this atmosphere—everyone united, pushing forward toward the same goal.

“She’s right, Aomine. Let Miyamoto rest first.”

Seijuro Akashi added gently.

He had plenty of questions himself, but he held them back. Miyamoto Tokima had just finished playing and genuinely needed a moment.

Nearby, Atsushi Murasakibara quietly ate the potato chips Miyamoto Tokima had bought for him. As long as there was food, he was perfectly content.

“It’s fine, Momoi.”

Miyamoto Tokima smiled mildly.

“Using full strength against someone that weak would just be embarrassing.”

Then he turned to Daiki Aomine, looking puzzled.

“But Aomine, what did you mean earlier about me entering the No-Self State?”

He was genuinely confused.

When did I enter that? Why don’t I remember it at all?

At that moment, Kōzō Shirogane stepped forward from the crowd, his eyes burning as he looked at Miyamoto Tokima.

He knew it clearly—barring any accidents, Miyamoto Tokima was destined to become a basketball superstar.

What Miyamoto Tokima had already shown far exceeded his peers: shooting accuracy, release speed, court vision, playmaking. And now there was even this so-called No-Self State—something basketball players were never supposed to reach.

Even prodigies like Daiki Aomine, said to appear once every decade, couldn’t compare.

His talent was simply too outrageous—so much so that even Kōzō Shirogane found it hard to believe.

He walked up to Miyamoto Tokima.

“Miyamoto… you didn’t realize you entered the No-Self State?”

Miyamoto Tokima stared at him blankly.

Entered it? When?

After listening to Kōzō Shirogane’s explanation, he froze.

He had always thought only Aomine and the others indulged in dramatic overthinking. He never expected even his own coach to spin such a grand theory.

All he’d done was concentrate harder to prevent Shogo Haizaki from throwing another dirty elbow.

Yet in their eyes, that had become a state of total clarity—free of distractions, free of self.

If that was really the case, wouldn’t he dominate if he switched over to tennis?

…No, wait. He’d probably get taken out by a single serve.

Miyamoto Tokima looked at Kōzō Shirogane, utterly speechless. With his coach already convinced, what else could he do?

Might as well go along with it.

He put on a surprised expression and said,

“So that was the No-Self State? No wonder I felt my strength increase so much.”

Kōzō Shirogane nodded with satisfaction, a hint of pride flashing through his eyes.

Then a thought struck him.

With talent like this, Miyamoto Tokima absolutely couldn’t be allowed to keep slacking off.

He also needed to be protected—injuries had ended far too many promising careers.

No matter what, he couldn’t let Miyamoto Tokima’s future be destroyed by injury.

After making up his mind, Kōzō Shirogane spoke seriously.

“Miyamoto, with talent like yours, it would be a crime to waste it.”

“From now on, I’ll personally train you every day.”

“And you’ll agree to one condition. It’s for your own protection.”

Miyamoto Tokima stared at him, dumbfounded.

Personally train me… every day?

But my strength literally grows when I slack off.

If you supervise me personally, how am I supposed to slack off at all?

He looked at Kōzō Shirogane with a pained expression and said,

“Coach, honestly, there’s no need for you to train me personally. I can practice on my own. I don’t want to trouble you.”

“That won’t do!”

Kōzō Shirogane said firmly.

“Talent like yours absolutely cannot be wasted.”

“Yeah, Miyamoto!”

Daiki Aomine chimed in excitedly.

“With your talent and the coach training you, you’ll just get even stronger, right?”

“I’ve decided—starting now, I’ll train with you. I’ll follow the coach too, until the day I beat you.”

He extended his hand.

“Count me in.”

Shintaro Midorima also reached out, placing his hand on top of Aomine’s.