Night fell softly over the city thin fog drifting over neon lights, street lamps glowing like hovering stars. The kind of night where the wind carried whispers instead of sound. The kind where ordinary people slept…

…and monsters of the court awakened.

A narrow alley led to a quiet restaurant no sign, no lights outside, no music. Just a wooden sliding door and a faint scent of broth. A place only those "invited" could find.

A place for kings disguised as humans.

Inside, the lighting was warm, low, golden. Soft jazz hummed in the corners. Only three tables were occupied. Most customers sat far apart, huddled in shadows.

But in the back behind a beaded curtain two seats were reserved.

Two cups of untouched tea steamed.

Because two giants from the future were meeting tonight.

The first to arrive was Ryu Kazen.

He moved without sound, without wasted motion an algorithm wearing human skin. His hood was up, black and sleek. His steps carried the precision of someone who had calculated the force, rhythm, and balance needed for each footfall.

Ryu's eyes those infamous red irises scanned the room once.

One second.

One glance.

He saw everything.

Every door.

Every exit.

Every weight shift in every customer's posture.

The angle of each table.

The rhythm of each breath in the room.

Not because he was paranoid.

Because he was built differently.

Ryu slid into the back booth and rested his elbow against the wall, silent as the moon.

A few minutes later, the beads rustled again.

Kanzaki Ren entered like a storm pretending to be a breeze.

Unlike Ryu's mechanical calm, Kanzaki carried heat. A relaxed swagger. A quiet confidence sharpened into lethality. His jacket hung open, hair slightly messy from a post-game shower, eyes half-lidded like he was bored with gravity.

But anyone who'd seen him on the court knew the truth:

He was bored with humans.

Kanzaki dropped into the seat across from Ryu and smirked slightly.

"You were early," he said.

Ryu looked up slowly.

"Time is a variable easily controlled."

Kanzaki chuckled. "Translation: I'm late."

"No," Ryu corrected gently. "You arrived on your timeline. I arrived on mine."

The waitress approached, bowed, and set down their plates without asking. Just miso, rice, pork, vegetables. Simple. Clean. Fuel.

Anything more would be unnecessary.

The moment she walked away, the silence returned comfortable, powerful, thick.

These weren't teenagers chatting.

These were two future national stars, two prodigies, two apex predators who had already stepped into the myth.

And tonight, they were talking business.

Kanzaki broke his chopsticks. "So," he said, "how'd your game end?"

"Predictably," Ryu replied. "As usual."

"Blowout?"

"200-point lead."

Kanzaki whistled. "You alone?"

"Yes," Ryu said, lifting a bite of rice. "I scored all 200."

"Only?" Kanzaki laughed.

Ryu looked at him with a calm that was almost frightening.

"I didn't need to score more. I wanted to test my teammates' growth."

"And?" Kanzaki asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Unimpressive," Ryu said flatly. "But recoverable."

Kanzaki snorted. "You're in a charitable mood today."

Ryu didn't smile. He didn't need to.

He placed his spoon down, interlacing his fingers.

Then he asked:

"What about your match?"

Kanzaki's smirk sharpened into something more serious.

"We won," he replied. "But the gap wasn't big like yours. Their center actually challenged me once."

"Challenged?" Ryu repeated. "Meaning?"

"He blocked me once."

The air in the booth went still.

Ryu's head tilted slightly.

"That's rare."

Kanzaki took a sip of tea.

"Yeah. Surprised me. I fixed it next play, though."

"Of course," Ryu replied.

They continued eating quietly methodically, efficiently before Kanzaki finally leaned back in his seat and let out a long exhale.

"But anyway," he said, "I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Ask," Ryu said.

Kanzaki laced his fingers behind his head.

"You're the one who watches all the players, right? Not just team captains everyone. So tell me." He lowered his voice slightly.

"Anyone worth watching right now?"

Ryu didn't answer at first.

"Because I'm trying to do that bit I'm not seeing anyone on our level or on mines or higher"

He took another bite of his food, chewed slowly, placed his chopsticks down, and folded his arms. His expression didn't change, but his eyes sharpened analyzing, calculating, sifting through memory.

"There is," he finally said.

Kanzaki raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Rare."

Ryu nodded once. "Most players are predictable. Their growth curves are shallow. Their ceilings are mathematically limited."

"And this one isn't?" Kanzaki asked.

"No," Ryu replied. "This one is interesting."

"Who?"

Ryu lifted his gaze, staring directly at Kanzaki.

"Caspian Shinoda."

Kanzaki blinked.

"…Who?"

"He's new you played him in a practice match sliver hair blue eyes"

Kanzaki frowned. "The kid I stole the ball from in that practice clip?"

"Yes."

"The one who looked terrified?"

"Yes."

Kanzaki stared at Ryu like he was waiting for the punchline.

"And you think he's worth watching?"

"Yes."

Kanzaki dropped his arms and leaned forward again.

"…Explain."

Ryu's eyes narrowed—the grid pattern shimmering faintly in the dim light.

"During the scrimmage," he began, "he made a movement he wasn't supposed to be able to make."

"What movement?"

"A flicker," Ryu said. "A moment of instinct. A decision made without calculations."

Kanzaki tilted his head. "You mean luck?"

"No," Ryu said firmly. "Not luck. Something deeper."

He drummed a finger on the table.

"He saw you before you moved."

Kanzaki froze.

"…What?"

Ryu's voice dropped, calm but heavier.

"When you shifted my weight to steal the ball, he reacted a fraction of a second early."

"That's impossible."

"Almost," Ryu corrected. "But he did."

Kanzaki rubbed his jaw slowly.

"So… he read me that's what your saying?"

"No," Ryu said. "He felt you"

He leaned back in his seat and started laughing "KAKAKAKAKAKAKAHA YOUR FUNNY"

"But if that's true then that kind of instinct is rare. Very rare. I've only seen it in one other person."

Kanzaki's eyes narrowed. "Akashi?"

"No," Ryu said. "You."

Kanzaki's smirk returned slower this time.

"You saying I should be flattered?"

"You should be cautious," Ryu replied.

Kanzaki laughed once. "Careful? Of a kid who missed three layups in that same clip?"

"Potential does not care about present skill," Ryu replied. "It only cares about trajectory."

Kanzaki paused.

"…So you think he has one?"

Ryu nodded.

"He has something dormant. Something he hasn't awakened yet. But if he survives the pressure… he will become a problem."

Kanzaki exhaled through his nose.

"You're really serious."

"Always," Ryu said.

"And what do you plan to do about him?" Kanzaki asked.

Ryu looked down at his tea, watching steam drift upward.

"Nothing," he said.

Kanzaki blinked again. "Nothing? you just said he's good"

Ryu lifted his gaze.

"Kings do not chase sparks."

"They wait and see which ones become flames."

Silence pressed between them.

Strong silence.

Dominant silence.

The kind only monsters were born to wield.

Finally, Kanzaki leaned back and laughed quietly.

"You're crazy, man," he said. "You're talking like we're gods."

"We're not gods," Ryu said calmly.

"We are inevitabilities."

Kanzaki's laughter faded, replaced by something colder.

"…You always say stuff like that. You ever think about how the rest of the world hears you?"

"No," Ryu said. "The world isn't my concern."

Kanzaki shook his head but smirked anyway.

"Fine. Then tell me this."

He tapped his chest lightly.

"And you? Do you think Someone is on your level and Who do you think it might be?"

Ryu considered it.

His eyes dimmed, then refocused.

"Yuuto kai," he said again.

Kanzaki stared.

"Ryu… don't joke."

"I'm not."

"Why?"

"Because you and I," Ryu said, "are already established. We walk a path above the court. A path most players will never reach."

He pointed one finger downward.

"But Yuuto is still on the ground. And yet he looked up."

Kanzaki swallowed.

"…And you think he'll climb?"

"If he survives the weight he carries," Ryu said. "If he doesn't break mentally. If he doesn't shatter."

"And if he does shatter?"

Ryu's answer was immediate.

"Then he will join the majority."

Kanzaki exhaled.

"Harsh."

"Realistic," Ryu corrected.

Kanzaki let a long silence pass before speaking again.

"So…"

He rested his chin on one hand.

"You think he has instinct."

"Yes."

"And potential."

"Yes."

"And fear."

"A lot of fear."

"Yes," Ryu said again.

Kanzaki's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"…Fearful players crumble before kings."

"Exactly," Ryu said. "That is why I watch him."

Kanzaki frowned.

"That makes no sense."

Ryu folded his hands.

"Because fear," he said quietly, "is the purest fuel."

Kanzaki stared.

"…You're serious."

"Yes."

"You're saying his fear is a good thing?"

"For him, it is everything."

Kanzaki leaned back in disbelief.

"You're twisted."

Ryu shrugged slightly.

"Fear creates two outcomes."

He raised two fingers.

"Ascension."

His fingers parted.

"Or collapse."

Kanzaki drummed his fingers against the table.

"And you're betting on ascension?"

"I do not bet," Ryu said.

His voice softened eerily.

"I calculate. And Yuuto Kai is a variable with exponential potential."

Kanzaki exhaled.

"…Interesting."

Ryu sipped his tea.

"He is not a king," Ryu added. "Not yet. Maybe not ever."

"But," he said quietly, "he has the seed."

Kanzaki smirked.

"And seeds grow, huh?"

"If watered by pressure," Ryu said.

They sat in silence again—longer this time. Only the restaurant's soft jazz filled the space, weaving between their thoughts.

Then Kanzaki shifted the topic with a question that felt heavier than any before:

"Ryu… what are we?"

He wasn't joking.

Not teasing.

Not thinking lightly.

He was being truthful.

Honest.

Raw.

"What do you mean?" Ryu asked.

Kanzaki stared at his reflection in his tea.

"People talk about us like we're monsters. Coaches say we're generational. Opponents call us aliens. And we… we talk about 'inevitabilities' and 'paths above the court' and 'seeds of potential.'"

He looked at Ryu again.

"So I'm asking what are we really?"

The restaurant seemed to hold its breath.

Ryu's answer was soft.

"Stars," he said.

Kanzaki blinked.

"Stars?"

"Yes."

Ryu looked out the window, eyes reflecting neon lights.

"Silent forces that move the world without speaking."

Kanzaki felt something cold crawl down his spine.

Ryu continued.

"We do not shout."

"We do not brag."

"We do not seek attention."

"We move quietly."

"We dominate quietly."

"We shift the sport quietly."

"Because kings," Ryu said, "move in silence."

Kanzaki's heart thudded once.

Then again.

Slow. Heavy.

"That's how you see us?"

"That is how we are."

Kanzaki rubbed a hand over his mouth.

"…You're scary when you talk like that."

Ryu didn't respond.

Instead, he said:

"One day, this country will belong to us."

Kanzaki laughed softly.

"Bold."

"True."

"And Yuuto?" Kanzaki asked. "Where does he fit in that future?"

Ryu met Kanzaki's eyes without blinking.

"In the shadow of our throne," he said.

Kanzaki shivered—not from fear, but from the weight of destiny.

"…And if he breaks out of that shadow?"

Ryu's expression didn't change.

"Then I will welcome him on the throne beside us."

Kanzaki stared at him.

"…You never talk like that about anyone."

"Because no one has shown the spark."

"And Yuuto did?"

"Yes."

Kanzaki exhaled.

"Damn."

Ryu looked down at his now-empty tea cup.

"Kanzaki," he said softly.

"Hm?"

"Remember something."

Kanzaki leaned forward.

Ryu's voice dropped to a whisper.

"The strongest kings…

are the ones who recognize the rise of another."

Kanzaki felt goosebumps race up his arms.

"Ryu…"

Ryu stood up slowly, sliding his hood back over his head.

"I have seen him," Ryu said.

He turned toward the exit.

"And if he survives his fear…"

He paused.

"He will not be chasing us."

Kanzaki's eyes widened.

"He will be walking toward us."

With that, Ryu stepped through the beads and disappeared.

Kanzaki sat there alone, staring at his cooling food, heart pounding.

And somewhere far from their table, far from their quiet empire

a young player stood alone in a dark gym, shooting until his arms shook…

a flicker of instinct burning in his chest.

A seed awakening.

A spark waiting.

And the kings

the silent kings

had already acknowledged him.

Even if he didn't know it yet.

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