The game started quickly.
Yōsen's starting lineup: Fukui Kensuke, Himuro Tatsuya, Liu Wei, Okamura Kenichi, and Murasakibara Atsushi.
Aside from the two guards, the other three frontcourt players were all at or above two meters tall.
Within the scope of high school basketball, that was already an overwhelming advantage.
No wonder Araki Masako rejected Takeuchi Genta's advances.
This mafia boss lady clearly preferred big guys over shut-in otakus.
"Hm?" Araki Masako suddenly felt a surge of hostility and turned her head sharply toward the direction of Kirisaki Daiichi's bench.
"Here to scout intel?"
She let out a cold laugh, then grabbed a bamboo sword and pointed it at her players.
"If the opponent scores even a single point today, you'll all run back to Akita on foot."
The players gave her dumbfounded looks.
This was the national quarterfinals, and she was saying don't even let the opponent score one point?
What, did she think they were gods or something?
But even so, the players still had to obey their demon coach.
At the opening tip-off, Murasakibara easily secured possession for Yōsen with his absolute advantage.
Fukui Kensuke brought the ball past half-court, and immediately a 4-on-5 situation appeared on offense.
Yōsen had four players facing five defenders—Murasakibara, after winning the tip-off, had already retreated to his own paint to anchor the defense.
"Four on five? What the heck is Yōsen doing?"
"Is this for real? That's their core player, and he's not even participating in offense?"
The punks from Kirisaki Daiichi were baffled.
Even they wouldn't go this far.
"Because that's just how Little Murasaki is," Momoi Satsuki said with a smile, shaking her head. "He was like this back in middle school too—always unmotivated."
Well, not from the start. It really began after he and Akashi joined the team.
"Little Murasaki is very emotionally driven. He's easily affected by the people around him."
"Huh?"
Hanamiya and the others didn't get it.
Every member of the Generation of Miracles was a monster—both in ability and personality.
They still hadn't forgotten how terrifying Akashi was yesterday, the kind of freak who wouldn't even spare his own parents if he got serious.
Of course, Tendou wasn't far behind either.
"A bunch of absolute maniacs," they thought, speechless.
Yet, even with a 4-on-5, Yōsen managed to score with surprising ease.
Their inside advantage was too overwhelming.
Even without Murasakibara, they still had two big men inside—Liu Wei and Okamura Kenichi.
In fact, without Murasakibara, their offensive spacing looked even smoother.
After all, those two were the team's legitimate center and power forward last year. This year, they had to change positions just to make room for Murasakibara.
Boom!
Yōsen's captain caught the ball, spun, and exploded toward the hoop.
It was simple and direct, but the opponents just had no way to deal with it—the height gap was far too great.
On defense, Yōsen was even more like a solid steel fortress.
The four perimeter players were pulled out near the three-point line, denying any chance of an outside shot.
As for the paint? Murasakibara guarded it alone.
Soon, everyone understood why Araki Masako had such confidence—why Murasakibara was so favored, to the point he didn't even need to join the offense.
Seeing the paint wide open, the opponent quickly ran a screen to try for a mid-range jumper near the free-throw line.
They weren't planning to challenge Murasakibara directly. They pulled up for a shot just inside the arc.
But before the ball left their hands, a massive figure loomed in front of them like a thundercloud.
"What the—?! How did he get here so fast? Wasn't he just in the paint a second ago?!"
The shooter's expression changed drastically. He hurriedly passed the ball to a teammate, who cut into the paint and attempted a layup.
The shooter's expression changed drastically. He hurriedly passed the ball to a teammate, who cut into the paint and attempted a layup.
Confident in his move, he went up strong—but just as he did, that purple-haired giant, who should've been near the free-throw line, pounced again and snatched the ball right out of the air.
It wasn't a block—it was a grab-block!
His height, his mass, his athleticism...
People all around the court gasped.
"Little Murasaki's defensive range... is basically the entire area inside the three-point line."
"The entire area?"
Kirisaki Daiichi's players were stunned.
Wasn't this the worst possible matchup for them?
Aside from Tendou, they didn't really have reliable outside shooting options...
But then again, they didn't need to worry either.
Yōsen didn't seem to have anyone who could stop their boss's outside shots either.
Beep~
End of the first quarter.
Yōsen 30:0. They shut out their opponents.
They had really done it—held their opponents scoreless while shooting over 80% from the field and putting up 30 points.
Araki Masako smiled in satisfaction.
Basketball was originally known as a big man's sport.
The early rules weren't well defined—ten players would often cram into the paint and just brawl it out.
So naturally, the dominant centers of that era had to be freakishly gifted athletes.
Even through the Magic-Bird era, big men still ruled the game.
Without a solid big man in your lineup, forget about winning a championship.
It wasn't until Jordan burst onto the scene and reshaped the sport that the game started to shift.
He singlehandedly changed the ecosystem of basketball.
But there was only one Jordan. After the Bulls dynasty, the Spurs quickly won championships with their unstoppable twin towers.
Then came the Lakers dynasty, led by the most dominant center of the era—Shaquille O'Neal—winning three straight titles.
That's why Araki Masako firmly believed: Those who control the paint, control the game.
After becoming a head coach, she became obsessed with big men, never looking back. Her team always featured twin towers.
...
This year, Yōsen went one step further.
They built an unprecedented three-tower lineup!
Right now, there wasn't a single team in the country that could match them in the paint.
With the first quarter already looking like this, what would the rest of the game even be?
In the second quarter, Yōsen shut out their opponents again, completely turning the game into garbage time.
Yōsen's ironclad defense left everyone in awe.
Fans across the country were now thinking—only teams with members of the Generation of Miracles might stand a chance of breaking through Yōsen's defense.
Yet even so, Kirisaki Daiichi's quarterfinal match didn't draw much attention.
In that game, Tendou benched all his starters, playing alongside four substitutes.
At the national quarterfinal level, the intensity of games means players ideally need over 48 hours of rest to recover.
That's the only way to ensure peak performance.
So there were no highlight-reel blowouts, no stunning visuals like Yōsen's.
Tendou did play, but it was clear he was coasting.
By halftime, he'd only scored 5 points—but also tallied 15 assists, 8 rebounds, 4 steals, and 3 blocks.
Kirisaki Daiichi led by 12 at halftime.
"Saving his strength to face us? This kid is really only fifteen?" Araki Masako watched the game with her team.
But she couldn't glean much—Kirisaki Daiichi stayed low-key, winning by 15 and quietly advancing to the Final Four.
Thinking back to her earlier bravado and making her team pitch a shutout… Araki Masako couldn't help but blush a little.
"Compared to him, maybe I'm the one acting like a kid…"
...
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