"The game has now entered the final six minutes of the fourth quarter. Kaijo has called their second-to-last timeout. Let's see how the coach draws it up."
Inside the livestream, Bobo spoke with a look of surprise as he commentated, while the scrolling chat was completely flooded with question marks. This was the third match of the first round of the official tournament: Kaijo High versus Suzume High. The score stood at 86–84, with Kaijo leading by just two points.
Bobo cleared his throat, picked up the stat sheet in his hand, and said: "According to the data, Suzume High came out of the Southern Region this year with an average score of 107 points per game, finishing second in the regional qualifiers. They only lost in the finals to Yosen High and still advanced successfully. In terms of strength, they're definitely not a team you can underestimate! And what's even more surprising is that they haven't fallen behind at all against Kaijo. That's really unexpected…"
"Looks like we might be seeing another dark horse this year, hahaha."
...
At the Arena
It wasn't just the livestream audience who was confused. The Kaijo fans in the stands were equally baffled. Just last year, Kaijo had swept through every opposing high school as the defending champions. So why were they now locked in a dead-even battle with a team of only average reputation?
Because of this, Suzume High, who had practically given up hope before the game even started, suddenly felt a fierce desire to win after realizing Kaijo didn't seem that overwhelming. They launched a relentless chase and cut the point gap down to just two by the end of the third quarter.
At the same time, Suzume High's coach was firing up his players on the bench with passionate encouragement. After all, if they could defeat Kaijo, Suzume's name value would skyrocket and his salary would rise right along with it.
In stark contrast, Kaijo's bench was unusually quiet. Everyone sat there with only the sound of drinking water breaking the silence, as if they'd truly been stunned by Suzume's play. Yet strangely enough, not a single trace of worry could be seen on their faces.
Kota wiped the water from the corner of his mouth and looked at his teammates. "You're all pretty much familiar with the run-and-gun spacing by now, right? If there's anything you still don't understand, use what's left of this game to polish it. Teams like the one across from us, neither strong nor weak, are actually the hardest to deal with."
As he spoke, Kota twisted open his bottle again and took another sip. It had been almost two months since Kota turned down Akashi, and the Interhigh had long since begun. As expected, Kaijo once again secured first place in the Western District and advanced to the official tournament. Even with Kise absent, Kaijo's dominance in the west remained absolute.
But that also created a problem. In order to conceal the run-and-gun system, Kota had rejected every single practice match invitation before the Interhigh. His original plan was to use the qualifiers to train the lineup, but Kaijo's long-suffering western neighbors had absolutely no intention of competing seriously with them anymore. Most of the time, the opponents had already given up on winning before the game even tipped off.
Left with no choice, Kota led a group of freshmen who were stepping onto the high school stage for the first time and coasted straight into the official tournament. As for the run-and-gun tactic, although it had been practiced countless times internally, it still hadn't found a proper opponent to test it against.
If I'd known it would turn out like this, I really shouldn't have rejected Akashi, Kota thought. He scratched his head and pursed his lips toward Yuki. "You've got it down already, right?"
Yuki nodded obediently. Blessed with exceptional basketball talent, his ability to grasp tactics was on par with Kise himself. Knowing Yuki didn't need much babysitting, Kota shifted his gaze to Takumi. "And you, Takumi?"
The taciturn Takumi didn't speak; he simply nodded. From the day Kota assigned him his role, Takumi had never slacked off once.
Kota then checked in with the other third-year substitutes and the first-year, Fukuhara. Everyone said they were mostly familiar with the run-and-gun movement patterns. The only one who hesitated was Tanaka, Kaijo's current starting center, who looked distinctly unsure.
That said, in Kota's setup, Tanaka's role was never about real interior play to begin with. His job was to mislead the opponent, and if Kaijo's lack of a true center got exposed early, that was part of the plan. After a moment of thought, Kota clapped his hands.
"Alright. If no one has any problems, then get ready to check back in. Morikawa, Tanaka, Fukuhara, and Shimamura. You four are finishing the last six minutes with me."
The Kaijo players instinctively moved to obey, but after a brief pause, one of the third-year substitutes couldn't help but speak up. "Captain, is this really okay? Putting four freshmen on the floor at once? Aren't we risking a collapse?"
As he spoke, he glanced at the scoreboard. With only six minutes left and a mere two-point lead, that advantage was practically nonexistent in a balanced matchup. Of course, that assumed the matchup was balanced.
Kota licked his lips, said nothing, and stood up, heading straight for the court. If I can't deal with opponents at this level, I might as well just retire on the spot.
Kaijo's four freshmen followed closely behind him as they stepped onto the court together. Suzume High immediately noticed the change. They stared at Kaijo's newcomers in disbelief. They never expected Kaijo to look down on them with such a top-dog attitude at the most critical moment of the game. It was infuriating, even downright insulting.
"Are you kidding me? You're really sending four rookies to play against us? Even trash talk has its limits!" The Suzume player who had been guarding Kota all game finally snapped. "I bet you won't even last two minutes before you sub them out!"
Kota glanced at him, shook his head, and replied calmly: "Two minutes won't be enough. Three should do it."
The player froze, completely caught off guard by that response. Before he could say anything else, Kaijo had already inbounded the ball to Kota and started their possession. The moment Kota caught the ball with both hands, the four freshmen exploded forward in perfect sync, accelerating toward Suzume's basket as if launching a full-court fast break.
Suzume's players, however, barely reacted. They calmly retreated on defense, unfazed, as this scene had played out countless times already. Every time, Kota simply walked the ball up and never passed, as if the other four weren't even his teammates.
As he dribbled past half court, Kota carefully watched the freshmen's off-ball movement. Aside from Tanaka hesitating slightly during his cut and reset, the other three executed their routes flawlessly. Kota relaxed. He flicked the ball upward with one hand, then raised his free hand and made a clear "clear out" gesture.
The instant the ball hit the floor and was about to bounce back up, a flash of white lightning streaked through Kota's eyes.
...
Three Minutes Later
Kaijo requested a substitution. Amid thunderous cheers from the crowd, Kota walked off the court and slapped hands with the substitute checking in. He then turned his head toward the Suzume player who had trash-talked him earlier. He raised a finger beside his ear and tilted it slightly, wearing a genuinely puzzled expression, as if he were asking, "Are you serious right now?"
The moment that taunt landed, the cheers in the arena surged to an even higher level. With three minutes remaining on the clock, the score read 99–86 in Kaijo's lead.
In the Livestream
Bobo grabbed the microphone with one hand and stood up on his chair, his face flushed with excitement. "Oh my God! What did I just witness?! Only three minutes have passed since Kaijo's last timeout! Kota scored 13 points by himself! Two three-pointers, two drives to the rim, plus an and-one layup! These three minutes alone are enough to make a full highlight reel for him!"
Amid the roaring crowd, Kota sat calmly on the bench with his arms crossed. Even though he'd just put on a jaw-dropping performance moments ago, he felt surprisingly indifferent about it. Against an opponent like Suzume High, if he couldn't put the game away within three minutes, that would have been strange.
When the final buzzer sounded, Suzume's players, completely shaken by Kota's onslaught, lost all fighting spirit. They mechanically ran up and down the court with Kaijo's freshmen. The player who had trash-talked Kota earlier didn't even stay on the floor; he left with his face red in embarrassment, unable to look Kota in the eye.
Just like that, Kaijo won 101–88, advancing smoothly to the second round.
This year, none of the major teams were suspended for on-court violence, so Akashi didn't interfere with the draw. Unfortunately, bad luck still found its victims, and not just one. In the Round of 16, Seirin drew Yosen, while Touou ended up facing Shutoku. Two unfortunate brothers-in-arms, both missing their core players, ran straight into the only two fully intact Miracle-tier teams.
As expected, Touou and Seirin went home hand in hand. Rakuzan, meanwhile, avoided any major threats and advanced easily. Former Teiko member Haizaki also made it into the second round without issue. Unlike previous years, Haizaki was shocked to realize that this season might actually be his best chance yet. Winning two straight rounds with ease, Fukuda Sogo tied their best historical tournament record by reaching the third round.
But that third round felt like a curse. Standing at the gates of the national semifinals, Haizaki finally ran into a true powerhouse: Fukuda Sogo vs. Rakuzan. Believing Rakuzan wasn't at full strength, Haizaki didn't take the "bench myself when facing Miracles" route like he had in his first year. Instead, the night before the game, he locked himself in the gym and practiced alone until late.
Sadly, not everything can be changed through effort alone. Final score: 94–88. Rakuzan wins comfortably. Haizaki put up 33 points, 10 rebounds, and 11 assists, a massive triple-double, statistically even edging out Akashi. Yet he still lost. Akashi finished with 28 points, 15 assists, 4 rebounds, and 8 steals.
With three minutes left, the score difference was only three points. Relying on their complete lineup, Fukuda Sogo clung desperately to the game and nearly caught a glimpse of victory. But in the final ace-versus-ace showdown, Haizaki once again fell to Akashi.
And with that, Fukuda Sogo was eliminated. The Interhigh's final four were decided: Kaijo, Rakuzan, Yosen, and Shutoku.
Before the semifinal draw was even announced, online discussions about who would win the championship exploded. The so-called Prophet returned.
"Who's going to win it all this year? I've seen this question everywhere lately. But honestly, isn't the answer obvious?" In the video, the Prophet wore a mask and a black hoodie, looking mysterious under dramatic lighting. "Every year, dark horses appear. Every year, someone claims a new team will win it all. First Seirin, then Fukuda Sogo. And what happened?"
He tapped the table disdainfully. "Didn't it turn out exactly like I said?" Naturally, he said nothing about Kaijo's comeback victory over Rakuzan in last year's Winter Cup.
"This year's champion will definitely be either Shutoku or Yosen. No doubt about it." With absolute confidence, the Prophet pulled out a prepared analysis chart and laid it out. "Let me break it down. The past four tournaments were all won by Kaijo. I admit it, their strength is incredible, already beyond the high school level. But that's assuming Kaijo is at full power. Due to certain limitations this Interhigh, their ceiling this year is second place."
He sighed dramatically, then flipped the chart. "A fully powered Kaijo is in a league of their own. Right behind them would be a fully powered Rakuzan. Unfortunately, Rakuzan isn't complete this year either. Did you all watch the first round? If you're seeing this video, you're probably real basketball fans, so you wouldn't have missed Kaijo's opening match. And here's where it gets interesting…"
He circled Kaijo's name on the chart with a black marker. "For the entire game, Kaijo looked like they'd lost their soul. Without Kise, against a team like Suzume High, the point difference stayed at just two until the very end. This is Kaijo's answer sheet for this year."
He shrugged and tossed the chart onto the floor. "No offense to Suzume High, but as a Southern Region team, whenever they face Yosen, the game is usually over before halftime. Sorry, Kaijo fans. Your team's winning streak is probably ending this year. Oh, and by the way, I'm leaning toward Yosen over Shutoku."
...
Shark Gym
Because of team training, Araki and Kota hadn't seen each other for quite some time. Today was a rare exception. Araki lounged on the couch with her legs propped on the coffee table, chewing gum while flipping through a magazine, occasionally blowing a bubble that popped with a sharp snap.
Kota lay on the leg press machine, headphones on, doing his daily strength training. They stayed like that for a long time. No words were exchanged, yet each was keenly aware of the other's presence in the confined space. Suddenly, the gym door swung open.
Araki didn't even look up, assuming it was just another member. As the boss of the gym, she never cared much about revenue, so even if someone snuck in without a membership, she usually let it slide. Of course, that didn't apply when she was in a bad mood. This time, however, she guessed wrong.
"Coach."
The voice broke her calm. Araki frowned and looked up, only to see Himuro Tatsuya standing there, smiling and bowing politely.
"What is it, Himuro?" Araki asked, closing her magazine.
"Nothing special," Himuro said with a smile. "The match is the day after tomorrow, so I wanted to come in and train a bit more."
Araki nodded slightly, gesturing for him to go ahead, then reopened her magazine. Himuro headed to the weights area and was about to grab a pair of dumbbells when he noticed Kota.
"Huh? Kota? You're here too?" He looked surprised, then quickly realized that compared to Kota being here, he was the strange one. As a Yosen player who knew Kota personally, Himuro was well aware of the relationship between Kota and Araki.
At that moment, Kota finished a set and exhaled deeply. Seeing Himuro, he paused. "Sorry, Himuro, what did you just say?"
He took off his headphones. Himuro waved his hand, signaling it was nothing. Then, as if remembering something, Himuro's expression turned a bit odd. Kota noticed immediately.
"What's wrong, Himuro?"
"It's nothing, really… just that online lately, there's been some talk… I don't know if you've seen it…"