Kota froze. He turned his head toward Chairman Kurikuni once more, who was still smiling warmly.
"Kota, actually, all the senior officials of the Basketball Association, including myself, have had very high hopes for you! We even sent a tryout notice to Takeuchi and asked him to pass it on to you. Unfortunately, he told me you were too focused on preparing for your matches to attend. I must say, that's quite the loss for both sides!"
As he spoke, Kurikuni patted the hand he was still holding, looking genuinely regretful. "But it's fine, Kota. I'm here to offer you a direct chance to join the National Youth Team!"
"No tryouts needed—if you're willing, I'll place you directly into the roster. That way, even after you graduate, you can still play alongside Kise and eventually move up to the national team together!"
"What do you say?"
Kurikuni's tone was sincere—he had even mapped out Kota's entire future path for him.
"Join the National Youth Team directly… and eventually the National Team, huh? I have to admit, that's such a generous offer it almost makes me cry, Chairman Kurikuni."
Kota chuckled softly, discreetly pulling his hand back from Kurikuni's grip. He patted his own shoulder lightly, as if brushing off some dust. "I'm sorry, Chairman Kurikuni. This is a bit sudden. Can I go home and discuss it with my family first?"
After bowing slightly, Kota turned on his heel and headed straight for the exit, ignoring Kurikuni's clear intent to keep talking.
Araki—expressionless—glanced at Kurikuni, then followed Kota out.
In an instant, the wide hallway was left with only two people facing each other: Akashi and Kurikuni.
"Heh."
Akashi gave a short laugh. Without even acknowledging Kurikuni, he started walking toward the exit, following the direction Kota had gone.
But just as Akashi passed by him, the chairman's once-kind expression darkened dramatically. His jaw clenched as he glared at the backs of Kota and Akashi—two point guards he had personally set his hopes on, both rejecting the Basketball Association's offer.
His gaze lingered longer on Akashi. After all, if Akashi hadn't declined first, there would have been no need to scramble for another point guard and certainly no reason for Kurikuni to personally show up at the arena to invite Kota.
And now—he'd been rejected again.
At that exact moment, just as Akashi reached the exit, he suddenly stopped. Without turning back, he said quietly,
"Chairman… if you keep looking at me with those eyes, I'll stab your head with these scissors."
The air seemed to freeze. Kurikuni's pupils constricted sharply. From that angle, Akashi couldn't possibly have seen his expression—yet he had.
"Ha-ha-ha, what are you saying, Akashi? Sorry, maybe I looked upset after being rejected. That must've made my face look unpleasant, huh? My bad—how embarrassing. I'm too old for this! Don't worry, I didn't mean anything by it."
Kurikuni forced out a laugh, then started walking toward the exit as well.
But just as he reached Akashi's side, Akashi suddenly lunged. His right hand shot out, grabbing Kurikuni by the throat, and with a burst of force, slammed him against the wall.
It was the kind of kabedon that would've looked romantic in a shoujo manga—if the one being pinned wasn't a middle-aged man and the pinning hand wasn't around his neck.
"Akashi! Have you lost your mind? What are you doing? Let go of me!"
Kurikuni's face twisted in panic as he tried to push Akashi away. But before he could even reach him, Akashi's left hand flashed—and a pair of scissors pressed against his face.
The sudden threat made Kurikuni freeze. He threw both hands up, shielding his face, terrified that the next second might be his last. Thankfully, this was a public sports arena with plenty of people around; even Akashi couldn't just walk away dripping in blood without consequences.
Not that killing him had ever been Akashi's plan. The Akashi family was a conglomerate of businessmen, not mobsters like the Araki clan.
"You should be grateful that Rakuzan's uniform is white," Akashi said flatly.
His voice was calm, but his eyes were terrifying—gold and red flickering, alternating rapidly, as if two different minds were arguing inside his head.
Golden Akashi: "Kill him."
Red Akashi: "No."
Golden Akashi: "Kill him! No one's ever glared at me like that!"
Red Akashi: "Need me to remind you that five minutes ago, Kota smacked you in the back of the head in the restroom?"
Golden Akashi: "…Damn it."
The mental tug-of-war ended, with the more composed persona taking over.
Akashi traced the scissors slowly across Kurikuni's face, hovering near his nose and forehead, as if calculating how to stab him without splattering too much blood.
Kurikuni had completely given up resisting. Every time he even thought about moving his hands, the pressure of the scissors deepened, and survival instinct told him not to move another inch.
Thank god he hadn't had any water before leaving the office—because otherwise, he might have literally wet himself right then and there. And if any of that hit Akashi's uniform, well… it wouldn't matter whether Rakuzan wore white or black; there'd probably be one extra corpse in the Tokyo Arena tonight.
"The Akashi conglomerate has never dabbled in the sports industry" Akashi murmured, scissors now snipping a lock of Kurikuni's hair. Snip.
"But, you know, a lot of people out there hold grudges against the Akashi family. As long as they keep their mouths shut, I'm fine with it…"
He blew the tiny strands off the scissor blades and smiled faintly.
"But lying? I don't tolerate that. So next time you give me that disgusting look—don't deny it, okay?"
"And if possible, I'd prefer you not look at me like that at all. Know your place, Chairman."
"The Akashi family just hasn't chosen to take a bite out of the sports world yet. That doesn't mean we can't."
His voice dropped, colder than ice.
"Understand, Chairman Kurikuni?"