"Move it, move it!"
"You two on that side—speed it up on the cut to the basket!"
Kaijo High School Gym
Kota shouted loudly while dribbling the ball across the court.
At this moment, aside from him, every other member of Kaijo's starting lineup was gasping for air. Even Yuki was starting to feel the strain.
Over the past half hour, under Kota's command, they had been running full-court suicides nonstop.
And that wasn't even the worst part.
To simulate real in-game conditions, every time Kota signaled for a movement, he deliberately extended the pauses and bursts — forcing them to train with variable-speed sprints, constantly switching between stopping and exploding forward.
This was all to sharpen Kaijo's overall explosiveness.
After all, for a Run-and-Gun offense, things like shooting form and raw strength were secondary.
What really mattered was one thing—
How fast you could push the fast break.
Even Oohara Hiroshi, a pure interior player, had been dragged into training alongside the perimeter guys.
For someone weighing close to a hundred kilos, this was anything but easy.
Of course, when it came to Kota's requests — even the unreasonable ones — Takumi agreed about ninety percent of the time.
"Tweet—tweet—tweet!"
Kota blew his whistle, glanced around at everyone, and said calmly:
"Take a break."
The moment those words left his mouth, the freshmen group—who had been barely standing—finally collapsed.
One after another, they dropped straight onto the floor.
Tanaka, who had been informed on lineup day that he would be the starting center, didn't bother holding back at all. He lay sprawled on the ground, sweat pouring off his head like rain, his entire body looking completely drained.
"Damn it…"
"This life… really isn't meant for humans."
Tanaka rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling of Kaijo's gym, his expression hovering somewhere between laughter and tears.
Nearby, Fukuhara, Morikawa, and the others looked at him with sympathy.
Even for perimeter players like them, this kind of training was brutal—let alone Tanaka, whose fundamentals were weaker and who wasn't built for constant movement as an inside player.
Ever since joining the starting lineup, Tanaka had asked himself one question more than any other:
"Do I really have to be a starter?"
Naturally, none of this escaped Kota's notice.
But hearing his junior complain in such a half-hearted way didn't earn even the slightest reaction from him.
He had already figured out everyone's personality long before the training matches.
Tanaka talked nonstop about being tired and not wanting to train—
Yet behind the scenes, he was one of the hardest workers.
More than once, after dismissing the team and returning to the gym later, Kota had seen Tanaka practicing alone.
"Complains out loud, but secretly grinding behind everyone's back…"
"Tsk, tsk. People like that are really annoying."
Kota shook his head with a laugh, then pulled out his phone to check unread messages.
Generation of Miracles – Group Chat
Kise: @Everyone
Kise: Guys, I seriously can't stand this training camp anymore! It's boring to the point of insanity! And the national team seniors aren't even that strong—they just love throwing their 'senior authority' around!
Kagami: Kise's right. Yesterday I played one-on-one with some guy, pinned him down completely, and he still tried to lecture me like some wise elder. It pissed me off.
Kise: Aomine's even crazier. After flattening everyone on the first day, he hasn't shown up to training since…
Aomine: Opponents at that level don't interest me at all. Instead of playing kiddie basketball with them, we might as well come back and prepare for the Interhigh. I'm aiming for the championship this year.
Kota: Shocked.jpg
Kota: No way, no way—are there really people out here who've lost two years in a row and are still dreaming? Anyone who knows who's winning it all this year, type "1".
Kise: 11111
Akashi: 6
Midorima: Gemini's fortunes are especially strong in the first half of the year. You will defeat many opponents and accomplish extremely difficult feats.
Murasakibara: Lately our team's been training nonstop… Coach's acting like he took the wrong medicine or something. I'm getting so thin it's scary…
Everyone: …
Momoi: Oh right! Come to think of it, we haven't all hung out in forever. Since the interhigh hasn't started yet, why don't we meet up?
Kuroko: I agree.
Kise: Objection!!!
Kise: We're still stuck in national team camp! If we're meeting up, at least wait until we're all back!
Kagami: Agreed! When we get back, we're playing cards again. Last time my face was completely covered in penalty slips—I'm not accepting that loss!
Aomine: Honestly, isn't this training camp just a joke? Totally unnecessary. The three of us are obviously stronger than them. Even if it turned into three-on-five, we wouldn't lose. I seriously don't get why the Basketball Association keeps wasting time on stuff that's already obvious.
Kise: Exactly! And let me tell you—
…
While Kota was silently spectating Kise and the others venting, a private message suddenly popped up.
It was from Akashi.
Akashi: When do you want to schedule a practice match? Rakuzan's roster has changed a lot this year, and the newcomers haven't adapted to the game tempo yet. Kaijo should be in a similar situation, right?
Akashi: There's still time before the interhigh. How about a scrimmage?
At the bottom of the messages was a stick-figure emoji calmly drinking tea.
Kota stroked his chin and was just about to type "Sure."
But with his finger already hovering over the send button, he suddenly snapped back to his senses.
He quickly deleted the message and typed two new words.
Kota: Not happening.
Akashi: ?
Watching the "Akashi is typing…" indicator flicker repeatedly, Kota's lips curled into a mischievous smile.
"Akashi… you probably never imagined you'd be rejected someday, huh?"
It wasn't that Kota wanted to provoke him.
It was simply that Kaijo's current situation wasn't suitable for practice matches.
Finding rhythm was important, yes—
But the Run-and-Gun system was Kaijo's trump card.
How could something like that be exposed so casually?
That was the real reason Kota rejected Akashi.
Of course, Akashi had no way of knowing that.
Rakuzan High School Gym
Akashi stared expressionlessly at the rejection message on his phone.
Without realizing it, his grip tightened.
At that moment, during the ongoing practice match, a Rakuzan freshman accidentally threw the ball toward Akashi.
"Captain, watch out!"
Before the warning even finished—
Akashi caught the ball with one hand.
Buzz.
A low vibration echoed softly.
Just as Hayama stepped forward to retrieve the ball, he saw the look on Akashi's face.
A chill ran through him, and his voice trembled.
"A-Akashi… are you okay?"
"Of course."
"Continue training."