"Hello, hello! Is this the only heir of the Akashi family conglomerate on the other end of the line?"
On Rakuzan's bus back to school, Akashi's eye twitched as he listened to the frivolous voice on the phone. He replied coldly, "If you're calling just to mock me, then you'd better hang up right now."
There was no need to confirm the caller's identity. The only person who would dare speak to Akashi in such a teasing tone was Kota.
Kota chuckled. "How could that be? I know perfectly well how it feels to lose a game. Mocking someone at a time like this would be way too cruel, even for me."
Akashi rested his chin on one hand and gazed out the window, showing no mercy with his words.
"If someone like you doesn't qualify as having a terrible personality, then I truly can't imagine who would."
"Let's drop that and talk about something else," Kota replied, clearing his throat and shifting to a more serious tone. "Yosen played really well today. Still, Rakuzan exceeded my expectations by far. You were incredible, Akashi. Those last two turnovers weren't your responsibility."
Akashi fell silent for a moment. After confirming that Kota was genuinely praising him, he replied politely, "Thank you. But a loss is still a loss. There's no such thing as 'Rakuzan lost, but I didn't.' I chose the starting lineup myself. If they failed to perform, then I bear that responsibility as well."
This wasn't empty courtesy. Akashi's tone was sincere; he had no intention of blaming his teammates and instead placed the fault on himself.
Kota smacked his lips and sighed. "That sense of responsibility of yours… you really were born to be a big shot. Come to think of it, my situation right now is almost identical to yours." He glanced at Araki in the driver's seat. Winning the game had clearly put her in a good mood. "Kaijo also lost two starters this year. And the worst part is, Kise is gone."
Kota rubbed his forehead helplessly. In front of fans, teammates, and even the coach, he always appeared confident and composed. But the pressure he carried was something only he truly understood. A great commander never shows fear to those under him, yet the burden they shoulder is often heavier than that of the soldiers charging into battle.
The lack of a true center, too many rookies in the starting lineup, and the departure of the team's ace: all of that pressure was now resting on Kota's shoulders.
Sensing the fatigue in Kota's voice, Akashi paused before saying, "I'll be there to watch the finals." His tone was calm, but the meaning was unmistakable: Kaijo making it to the finals was a given.
Kota froze for a second, then teased him instinctively. "You really have that much faith in me? You know Shutoku isn't any weaker than Yosen, right? Kaijo is also short-handed this year. I'm honestly worried we might not just lose the championship, but fail to even step onto the finals court."
Hearing Kota's self-mockery, Akashi's expression didn't change. He replied firmly, "You will make it to the finals. And this year's championship will belong to you."
Kota fell silent. Staring at Akashi's name glowing on his phone screen, he could hardly believe what he'd just heard. After a long pause, he finally smiled. "I'll take that as a good omen."
"A good omen?" Akashi raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"
As a Japanese speaker, Akashi didn't immediately grasp the specific phrasing Kota used. Kota smiled and added, "It's nothing. I'm just thanking you. When Kaijo faces Yosen in the finals, make sure you come watch."
With that, Kota hung up the phone. He leaned his head against the window, breathing in the quiet, faint floral scent inside the car, and gradually drifted off to sleep. Seeing this, Araki quietly slowed the car down, keeping it as steady as possible so as not to disturb him.
If there was anyone who truly understood how exhausted Kota was right now, it was Araki. Now, perhaps, Akashi could be included as well.
Listening to the dial tone on the other end, Akashi shook his head slightly. He put away his phone and looked out the window, a trace of frustration flickering in his eyes. Being eliminated due to an incomplete roster wasn't something he could feel nothing about. As another team fighting with a weakened lineup, he didn't want Kaijo to meet the same fate.
Win tomorrow's game, he thought. And make sure you win the finals.
...
The Lucky Item
In the locker room before the second semifinal match, Midorima slowly removed the bandages from his right hand. This shooting hand, which he carefully protected year-round, was only ever used in official matches.
In the corner of the room sat a potted pothos plant. Today's lucky item for Gemini was exactly that. Midorima raised his right hand and clenched it a few times, muttering to himself, "Today's top-ranked signs are Gemini and Virgo. If the two meet, only the one with an even stronger will can secure victory."
He let out a long breath, closed his eyes in thought, then slowly stood up and wiped his glasses clean. "Let's go."
Behind the lenses, his sharp gaze gleamed with absolute resolve. As he pushed open the locker room door, Takao was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Seeing Midorima finally come out, he laughed. "You're way too slow, Shin-chan."
Midorima didn't respond. He lightly brushed his hand over the pothos he was carrying. The lucky item, of course, had to be placed on the bench to fight alongside him. Takao was long used to Midorima carrying strange objects before games.
"Rakuzan got eliminated by Yosen," Takao said as they walked toward the court. "That means if we take down Kaijo, we'll face Yosen in the finals. This year is our best chance, Shin-chan."
"Yeah," Midorima replied softly.
...
Tip-Off: Kaijo vs. Shutoku
"Please take care of us!"
After the customary pre-game greeting, Kota and Takao exchanged a brief handshake. With a fierce battle imminent, neither was in the mood for chatter.
Kota stood in Kaijo's half with his hands on his knees, waiting for the opening tip. Midorima, meanwhile, raised his right hand under the lights, inspecting it carefully. The crowd's cheers were deafening. Kaijo and Shutoku had clashed before, but this time was different. Without Kise anchoring them, could Kaijo still prevail?
Shutoku's starting lineup remained unchanged. Ever since the senior teammates of Midorima and Takao had graduated, Shutoku had faced a tough road. Last year, they were eliminated because they had to field so many rookies. But now, those rookies had grown into experienced starters.
Shutoku's second-year center, Taisuke, stepped into the jump ball circle. He stared at Kaijo's first-year center, Tanaka, his eyes blazing with fighting spirit. A year ago, as a rookie, Taisuke had been utterly suppressed by Kaijo's Hayakawa. Because the inside couldn't open up, Midorima was constantly double-teamed on the perimeter. That loss was Taisuke's greatest regret.
"I'll pay back everything we suffered at Kaijo's hands right here, today!" Taisuke glared at Tanaka and grinned fiercely. "Welcome to high school basketball, rookie."
Tanaka looked confused, but before he could respond, the referee blew the whistle. The ball was tossed high into the air. Taisuke leapt decisively, stretching his right arm to secure the first possession for Shutoku. Tanaka reacted and jumped as well, but the gap in raw physical gifts was simply too large.
Taisuke tipped the ball back to his side easily. As he landed, he shot Tanaka a provocative look. "That's all the height you've got, rookie?"
Tanaka pressed his lips together without replying, retreating to his half to set up the defense. Kota saw the exchange, but he didn't blame the freshman. Starting Tanaka was Kota's decision. Because of the nature of Kaijo's run-and-gun tactics, the "real" strategy wasn't meant to be used from the opening tip.
"It's fine! Just lock in on defense and don't lose your man!" Kota shouted. He moved to the front of the formation and immediately picked up Midorima.
With Kise gone, Kaijo's offensive firepower had dropped. Every defensive possession was precious. Faced with Kota's tight coverage, Midorima tested a few cuts, but finding no opening, he signaled Takao to initiate the offense.
Under Yuki's textbook, disciplined defense, Takao quickly realized that this newcomer was just as troublesome as Kota. In the end, Takao opted for ball movement, swinging the ball around until it reached Taisuke in the paint.
Inside the key, Taisuke looked at Tanaka's stiff expression and flashed a cruel grin. "Ready, rookie? Today, right here, I'm going to humiliate you."