"Set me a screen."
At the top of the arc, Kota waved his hand toward Hayakawa, signaling for a pick-and-roll.
With Kise unable to confidently score against Akashi's defense, the responsibility naturally fell to Kaijō's vice-captain — the team's most reliable scorer after their ace.
As he activated both his Fourth Quarter King mode and the Zone, Kota shot his opponent, Takeshi, a confident grin.
"Your one-on-one defense might have the edge on me… but what if I call a teammate to set a screen? What then?"
Before Takeshi could even respond, Hayakawa had already moved into position, planting himself like a wall beside him.
Kota immediately used the screen — but instead of driving inside, he stepped back into open space and launched a quick three-pointer.
Swish!
The crowd erupted.
Kota coolly made a "three-to-the-head" celebration, his face the picture of calm confidence — as if this were nothing more than a warm-up shot.
With Fourth Quarter King active, his shooting touch was blazing hot — and when combined with Zone Mode, his play had officially reached Generation of Miracles level.
At that height, even Takeshi's defensive specialty couldn't keep up.
Akashi realized it too. His face darkened as he barked out,
"Everyone except Nebuya — spread to the perimeter! I'll handle Kise alone. Double-team Kota!"
The scoreboard read 97–91, Kaijō still leading.
But with Dual Personality Akashi now on the court, the difference between the two teams was rapidly shrinking.
After several intense possessions, their once comfortable lead had been cut down to just six points.
Kota squinted at the clock. Six minutes left… a six-point lead. Anything could still happen.
Losing no momentum, Akashi continued his assault. Though it took him a moment to get past Kota's defense, once he broke through, his offense never hesitated.
With his flawless court vision and near-untouchable dribbling, any attempt at help defense only served as fuel for his next highlight.
Breaking into the paint again, Akashi drew both Kaijo big men, then flicked the ball up with one hand — a perfect lob assist to Nebuya, who finished it effortlessly.
At first, Kota didn't overthink it. After all, it wasn't exactly news that he couldn't shut Akashi down.From last summer's prelims to this interhigh final, he could probably count his "successful stops" on one hand.
Basketball's about offense, he thought. If we can't stop them, then we just have to make sure they can't stop us either.
But soon, something felt off.
In a half-court exchange, Kaijō's offense should've been just as threatening. But now, Akashi had become too strong — strong enough to completely suppress Kise.
Every time Kota tried to organize an attack, Akashi's Emperor Eye disrupted the play — anticipating passes, forcing turnovers, and turning them into fast-break points.
Within just two minutes, Akashi had stolen the ball twice and converted both into points — one for Takeshi's mid-range jumper, and another for Mibuchi's clean corner three.
In an instant, the balance had shattered.
Those two extra possessions nearly erased the lead entirely.
101–100, Kaijō up by just one.
With four minutes left, Takeuchi had no choice but to call their second-to-last timeout.
The Kaijō bench fell into silence.
Kota sat quietly, eyes on the ceiling, lost in thought.
Kise was sipping water halfheartedly.
Hayakawa, looked like a fired-up idiot — and everyone knew he wouldn't be much help in a tactical discussion.
Takumi was as quiet as ever, lost in his own head.
And Yuki, looked like he'd rather jump out a window than speak up.
For a long moment, only the sound of sweat dripping on the floor and water bottles being squeezed broke the silence.
…Is this where I step in?
Takeuchi suddenly realized — wait, he was the coach here!
"Crap… it's my job to say something motivational right now! But… what do I even say? Damn, I'm rusty…"
A bead of sweat rolled down his temple as he rubbed his palms together nervously. His once silver tongue, dulled after a year of half-effort games, wasn't exactly ready for a locker-room speech.
"Ahem, everyone—"
He had just mustered the courage to speak when a voice cut him off.
"Hold it, Coach. You're breaking my train of thought."
Kota tilted his head slightly, catching Takeuchi mid-inhale. He blinked, then smiled knowingly.
"Wait… don't tell me. You were about to give us one of those inspirational 'we can still do this!' speeches, weren't you?"
The team froze.
Then Kise snorted."No way! Coach, seriously? That's kinda… cute, hahaha!"
The others couldn't help but chuckle too, all wearing the same mischievous look.
Takeuchi's face turned red. He tugged at his collar and snapped,
"What was I supposed to do? You all looked half-dead out there! It's the finals, for crying out loud — I had to say something!"
"Pffft—HAHAHAHA!"
Kise completely lost it, laughing so hard he had to lean on Kota's shoulder.
Kota himself was smiling, but at least he had the sense to keep it respectful. When he saw Takeuchi's expression darkening, he calmly pulled out a paper fan from who-knows-where and gave Kise a light whack on the head.
"Alright, enough clowning around," he said, rubbing his ear as he sat back down, cross-legged on the bench. "Relax, Coach. We're not that fragile — we didn't become back-to-back champions by luck."
He grinned, then added teasingly,
"Also… be honest, Coach. It's been over a year since you gave a real speech, hasn't it? You were totally just trying to remember how."
Takeuchi straightened his back.
"Ahem! Nonsense! I'm a professional coach!"
Kota raised an eyebrow but didn't push. With the younger players around, it was best not to roast their coach too hard.
He clapped his hands sharply to get everyone's attention.
"Alright, listen up. Four minutes left in this damn final. No matter how annoying those guys get — once this game's over, we won't be seeing them again for a while."
His tone wasn't fiery — if anything, it was calm and grounded. But somehow, everyone went quiet, drawn in by his voice.
Takeuchi leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. He'd seen this before — Kaijō falling behind, Kota speaking up, then leading them back to victory. It was almost a ritual by now.
He was born for this, the coach thought with a proud smirk.
"Alright, let's go over the enemy lineup" Kota continued. "That muscle freak over there? Way too strong for his own good." He pointed at Nebuya, earning a few nods.
"And that pretty-boy sniper — Mibuchi. He's a huge reason they closed the gap. Seriously, if he shot any cleaner, he'd need a license."
A wave of chuckles rippled through the bench.
"Then there's the new guy — big frame, decent defense, keeps giving me trouble. Yeah, that's you, Takeshi."
He rolled his shoulders, then sighed.
"And of course… the real problem — that short red-haired freak. We've played him before, and he's still the same terrifying perfectionist. Damn overachiever. I hate him. Okay, maybe not hate, but I definitely don't like him!"
The team snickered. No one dared glance toward Akashi, who would probably take that as a personal challenge.
"Oh, and… they have one more guy, right? Whatever, he's not important."
Hayama: "???"
Kota shrugged and crossed his arms.
"Anyway — the point is, yeah, they're strong. But so what? It doesn't matter how hard this game gets…"
He looked each teammate in the eye.
"…Because in the end — the victory still belongs to Kaijō."