"There's been some gossip going around… I don't know if you've seen it."
Kota froze for a moment, then tilted his head in thought before asking,
"What kind of gossip? I don't really go online that much."
Himuro hesitated for a second before replying, "It's just some bored fans saying they don't have high expectations for Kaijo this year."
Hearing that, Kota waved his hand dismissively. "Just a bunch of clowns. Every year there are people saying we can't defend the title, so what happened in the end? We still won four championships in a row. Once the results come out, all those people suddenly go quiet and play dead. There's no need to care."
He thought that would settle it, but to his surprise, Himuro hesitated again, then pulled his phone out and handed it to him. "Here… just take a look yourself," Himuro said helplessly.
Kota frowned slightly, glanced at him, then took the phone and started scrolling through the headlines:
"Shocking! Defending champions face a powerhouse in the very first round!"
"After Kise's absence, where is Kaijo headed?"
"Famous basketball blogger 'The Prophet' claims Kaijo has zero chance of winning the championship this year!"
The top trending topics on Twitter were all about Kaijo. Without exception, every single one was negative. Kota rested his cheek on one hand, scrolling through the feed with a bored expression. It wasn't that the attacks lacked bite; it was just that the same scene played out every single year. Kota was already visually fatigued.
"That's it? That's what counts as gossip?" He snorted lightly, handed the phone back to Himuro, and stood up, about to lie back down on the leg press machine for another set.
Himuro's voice stopped him again. "Kota, I think you should take a closer look." Himuro glanced at the phone and reminded him, "You only checked the trending headlines. You haven't looked at the fans' reactions yet."
"Hm?" Kota frowned, realizing things might not be so simple. He took the phone back and tapped on the most popular article: Kaijo narrowly defeats Suzume High in the first round of the official tournament!
Opening the comments section, he was immediately met with a flood of criticism.
"Four-time defending champions getting dragged into a death match in the first round… Is Kise's departure really that impactful?"
"If Kota hadn't exploded in the fourth quarter, Kaijo might not have even survived. This year's title chances look shaky."
"The real issue is Kaijo's center this year. He's way too weak. What was the coach thinking during tryouts? Were there really no better centers?"
Kota narrowed his eyes and read through the comments line by line. It wasn't just neutral fans and bloggers; even many of Kaijo's own supporters were starting to lose confidence in their team.
Himuro carefully observed Kota's expression and said tentatively, "Actually, this is all because of a blogger called 'The Prophet'. He's the one who set the narrative."
Kota raised an eyebrow and tapped open The Prophet's video. About three minutes later, Kota shut off Himuro's phone expressionlessly, lay back on the leg press machine, and loaded the weight straight to the maximum.
Himuro watched in silence. Did I mess up by telling him? He scratched his head awkwardly. Watching Kota push the fully loaded machine, he instinctively shrank his neck and quietly moved elsewhere to warm up.
On the leg press, Kota's thigh muscles tightened. Conditioned by years of training and competition, his legs bulged like twisted tree roots, veins standing out clearly as blood rushed through them.
Clang!
With a heavy metallic crash as the plates collided, Kota lowered his exhausted legs, wiped the sweat from his face, and muttered, "No matter where you go, there's never a shortage of people who chase clout and stir things up. But if it's already gone this far, not responding at all would be pretty boring."
...
In a budget apartment building in Tokyo, a scruffy, middle-aged man sat in front of his computer, fingers flying across the keyboard. Beside him lay a black mask and a black hoodie. He was the recently viral "Prophet."
By releasing a video criticizing Kaijo, he had skyrocketed to the trending charts in just a few days. With a set of seemingly logical analyses, he not only exited the controversy unscathed but also converted the sudden surge of traffic into a hefty payout. At this very moment, he was planning his next move: making a "Rakuzan critique" video, recycling the same formula to rake in another wave of views.
Suddenly, Twitter notifications started popping up nonstop. The Prophet frowned but ignored them, focusing on his editing. However, the mentions didn't slow down. They multiplied so much that they began interfering with his work.
"Damn it!" he cursed under his breath and finally clicked one of the mentions. Dozens of people were tagging him under the same video: Ranking the Most Valuable Championships in History.
"Oh? Using championship comparisons to farm traffic? Not a bad idea," he muttered, glancing at the title. His eyes lit up as he prepared to watch, only to freeze when a familiar figure appeared on screen.
In the video, Kota stood with his hands behind his back, smiling at the camera. "Hello everyone. I'm Kota, point guard of Kaijo High's basketball team. Thanks for all the attention lately. Kaijo's been trending nonstop. These days, I wake up every morning and see my own face online. It's a pretty surreal feeling!"
Kota smacked his lips lightly, a fleeting look of reflection crossing his face before he quickly turned serious again. "Alright, back to the point. If I don't change my mind, then the title of this video should be: The Championship with the Highest Value!"
He picked up his phone and flipped the camera around. The screen now showed Kaijo's trophy room. Every generation of Kaijo champions was commemorated here. Including the four titles won under Kota's leadership, a total of twenty-three championship trophies filled the room. Aside from Kota, this anomaly, the other nineteen trophies belonged to nineteen different Kaijo teams across different eras.
After fixing the camera, Kota walked over to the trophy wall and smiled. "This video isn't really about ranking; it's more of a discussion. Throughout history, so many outstanding teams have won the national championship. So the question is: who deserves to be called the champion of champions?"
He rested one hand on the wall and pointed to the trophy closest to him. "Let me start by sharing my own view. First, allow me to formally introduce Kaijo's first interhigh championship of the new generation, from two years ago." Kota stroked his chin, eyes filled with nostalgia. "Three free throws, made two. I was the clutch guy. Then came the Winter Cup that same year, our second title. A step-through buzzer-beater. And no, that wasn't a travel."
He pointed to each trophy in turn, reminiscing about the moments behind them. Up to this point, the Prophet remained unimpressed. He assumed Kota was just building his personal fanbase. Still, "champion of champions" is an interesting angle, the Prophet thought, already calculating how to ride this wave for profit.
Then Kota's voice rang out again. "Our third championship, the beginning of the Kaijo dynasty. Yuki's buzzer-beater. Who says rookies can't carry the team? And the fourth, clocking out after three quarters. A dynasty-builder's finals run is naturally different from everyone else's."
Kota shrugged and shook his head. "But in my eyes, none of these quite qualify as the champion of champions. Even though many people think four titles in two years is already insane, to me, the most beautiful moment in the world is always right now."
Watching Kota's confident expression, alarm bells rang in the Prophet's mind. The next second, Kota gave a meaningful smile and adjusted the trophy display, leaving an empty space beside the fourth trophy.
"The greatest championship in history will always be this year's. No matter what anyone says, how they analyze it, or how little they believe in Kaijo, we're still walking the road to the title this year. Just wait and see."
...
The Semifinals
Kota's video exploded online in less than a day. Someone deliberately placed his video side by side with The Prophet's and turned it into a comparison piece. Both comment sections were instantly flooded with spectators. Some sided with Kota, while others believed that a weakened Kaijo had lost its aura.
The Prophet released yet another clip, this time directly dissing Kaijo and Kota's claims. However, Kota made no further response because the semifinal matchups had been announced.
Semifinal 1: Rakuzan vs. Yosen
Semifinal 2: Kaijo vs. Shutoku
In a way, this draw actually helped Kota. If Kaijo had faced Yosen and personally eliminated them, Araki would probably sulk at him for days. Luckily, Kaijo drew Shutoku.
Kota rubbed his chin and smiled at Araki. "So? Need my help?"
Even though Rakuzan wasn't at full strength, Kota trusted Akashi completely. This year's incomplete Rakuzan, much like Kaijo, was far from weak. But Araki rejected him outright.
"Losing to a team with an incomplete roster would be humiliating. I'm not that pathetic," she said. She had no intention of relying on outside help. No matter how close they were, Kota wasn't a Yosen player.
Kota joked, "Just don't cry if you lose, okay? Even a weakened Rakuzan still has Akashi. They're not easy to deal with."
Araki calmly brushed aside the hair by her ear. "I know. I don't need your help. Just watch."
...
Yosen vs. Rakuzan
On game day, Kota ultimately sat on Kaijo's bench with his teammates. Without his assistance, Yosen's performance was unexpectedly steady. Under Araki's command, Yosen relentlessly pressured Rakuzan. Without Nebuya anchoring the paint, Rakuzan's makeshift center simply couldn't withstand Murasakibara's sheer force. In the first quarter alone, Murasakibara grabbed 11 rebounds.
At the same time, Yosen's perimeter ace Himuro fired shot after shot. Rakuzan's newly subbed-in shooting guard stood no chance against him. Yet despite all this, Akashi single-handedly erupted for 22 points in one quarter, tying the score.
End of the first quarter: 28–28.
In the second quarter, Hayama found an opponent he could dominate. With Akashi orchestrating the offense, Hayama unleashed his signature Lightning Dribble. On this night, the Thunder Beast of the Uncrowned Kings truly returned.
Rakuzan's habit of turning up the heat in the second half hadn't changed. As soon as the third quarter began, Akashi decisively activated his ultimate weapon: the Team Zone. With multiple steals leading to fast breaks, Rakuzan seized a solid lead.
65–55. Rakuzan leads. Yosen calls timeout.
Araki wasn't surprised by the surge and laid out a counterattack. Himuro lived up to expectations, entering the Zone and leading the charge. Unfortunately, their true ace, Murasakibara Atsushi, still hadn't fully woken up.
End of the third quarter: 78–69. Rakuzan leads by nine.
Seeing Murasakibara remain quiet, Kota stood up, ready to head to Yosen's bench to give him a nudge. But he stopped when he saw Murasakibara borrow a hair tie from Araki. Kota's expression turned strange. Everyone knew that a tied-hair Murasakibara was a different beast.
In one possession, Akashi stole the ball and pushed up the court for a layup, only to have it erased from behind by a massive shadow! Like a towering colossus, Murasakibara officially entered the Zone.
The score slowly crept closer. By the final minute, Rakuzan held a fragile one-point lead. But in the end, Rakuzan's lack of depth caught up to them. In the final two possessions, Rakuzan's rookie small forward and center committed back-to-back mistakes under pressure.
The final buzzer sounded. A wave of subdued groans rose in the arena, quickly drowned out by Yosen fans' ecstatic cheers. Amid the celebration, Kota watched Akashi on the court. Even after his teammates' mistakes sealed the loss, Akashi still walked over to encourage each of them.
"What a shame, Akashi," Kota murmured. "If Mibuchi or Nebuya had even one more person to help you… you shouldn't have fallen here."
Semifinal 1: Yosen defeats Rakuzan, 119–118, and advances to the finals.