"The sixth game: Yosen High vs. Rakuzan High!"
For a moment, the air went silent.
Kota sat frozen on the couch, his eyes shifting as he sneaked a glance at Araki's face. She didn't show much of a reaction—just leaned back into the sofa, calm as ever.
"That's… pretty unlucky news, huh, Miss Masako?" Kota probed carefully.
"Mm… not really. Anyway, what do you want for dinner?"
Araki brushed it off, standing as she tied her hair into a ponytail to keep it out of the kitchen smoke.
"Anything's fine. Just make what you want—I'm not picky."
"Alright."
Watching Araki's back as she walked away, Kota narrowed his eyes, thoughts racing.
Last year, Yosen had reached the Final Four in both the Interhigh and Winter Cup. With results like that—plus the influence of the Araki family—there was no way the school would dare put pressure on Araki as head coach.
Even if the team lost in the first round every year, the principal wouldn't have the guts to blame her. Unless, of course, he wanted to end up sinking in the Shinano River.
But still…
As his bond with Araki deepened, Kota could feel how much Yosen basketball meant to her.
"If they lost in the first round and went home early… would Araki cry?"
The thought made Kota chuckle out loud.
"Nah, impossible. But still… she'd definitely be upset."
"That won't do, then… Akashi… guess I'll just have to make things harder for you."
One week later — the first round of the Interhigh
The games began as scheduled.
Game One: Kaijo vs. Nara.
No surprises here.
Final score: 120–65, Kaijo wins easily.
Nara once again ran headfirst into a "Generation of Miracles" team in the opening round. Fast-track back home.
Game Two: Seirin vs. Igawa.
The name rang a bell for Kota. Curious about Rakuzan's changes this year, he called his teammates together to watch the tape.
And then… during warmups, that familiar "Smiley Guy" turned to the camera, flashed a peace sign, and gave a grin straight out of a hot-blooded shonen manga.
Kota immediately closed the laptop, deadpan.
"Ugh. Filthy stuff. Can't watch another second."
Anyway, Seirin won.
Game Three: Too vs. Fukuda Sogo.
After last year's "boxing incident" Haizaki was back with a vengeance! This year, though, he'd even changed his hairstyle.
Last year: greasy gutter hair. This year: back to his Teiko days—silver hair, full chuunibyo mode.
Kota's comment? Finally, this idiot figured out the secret to winning. In Kuroko no Basket, if your hairstyle or hair color isn't unique, forget about winning.
Unfortunately, wasted years of his basketball career meant Haizaki — who had already been outclassed by Aomine at Teiko — was now nothing more than Too's punching bag.
Watching the tape of Igarashi leading the team and getting smoother with every play, Kota clicked his tongue.
"This guy really has that first-year spark again. If I didn't have my system cheat, I'd probably be a player like him."
That thought made him glance at his system panel.
The main quest — Join the Japan National Team — was still incomplete.
Although China had practically confirmed Kota as their future point guard, he couldn't switch nationality yet because of his age. He'd have to wait until this Interhigh was over before making the move official.
Worth noting: this year, Haizaki actually played relatively clean. A few questionable fouls, sure, but nothing dirty enough to make Kota want to jump on the court and beat him up again.
Final score: 103–86, Too advances.
Game Four: Shutoku vs. Kurugi High.
Because of the new move Midorima showed during the preliminaries, Kota made Kaijo's whole team watch the tape three times in a row.
Shutoku was only playing a weak team and hadn't used even 40% of their strength, but persistence paid off — Kota picked up on something.
"Their plays are all over the place. If you try to counter each one individually, you'll waste too much time."
Tapping the table with his fingers, he watched Midorima drift out for a three.
"But in the end, their core tactic is simple: create opportunities for Midorima to shoot."
Sniffing, Kota admitted it wasn't hard to see that. The real problem was stopping it.
When you're dealing with a guy shooting 100% from high-difficulty range, "un-guardable" isn't an exaggeration.
"The only way is to intercept the pass before it reaches him, or double-team him so he never touches the ball."
The conclusion felt helpless. If Kaijo met Shutoku, it would come down to trading baskets.
After that, the fifth game — two random teams no one cared about. Kota didn't even bother asking for tape.
Influenced by Takeuchi, he had unconsciously started ignoring weaker opponents. Not exactly "underestimating" but in his eyes, if you weren't a "Generation of Miracles," you didn't count.
As the saying goes: a lion goes all out to hunt a rabbit. But what if it's a mosquito? A lion just swats it with its tail and doesn't care how many bites it got.
The final game: Yosen vs. Rakuzan.
The schedule gave one game per day, so this high-profile matchup closed out Round One.
Both teams had reached the Winter Cup semifinals last year. Both had "Generation of Miracles" members. It was easily the most anticipated match.
Experts predicted Rakuzan would win. Basketball blogs agreed.
Even so, the stands were packed on game day.
In this basketball-obsessed world, a clash this even was worth the trip.
"Hey, where's Kota? Didn't he come with us?"
"Yeah, now that you mention it, he's been missing since we got here."
In the front rows, Kaijo's players noticed their teammate had vanished.
While they debated whether he'd gone to the bathroom or been kidnapped, Kise rubbed his chin, watching Yosen's players warming up.
Then a ridiculous idea struck him.
"No way… Kota wouldn't…"
As if to confirm his suspicion, a familiar figure stepped out of the players' tunnel.
Kota, in casual clothes and flip-flops, strolled in like he owned the place, waving at fans and grinning before plopping down next to Yako.
"Yo, Miss Masako"
Today, he wasn't here as a Kaijo player. He was here as Yosen's assistant coach and acting team manager.
"Wipe that excited look off your face. And by the way… you ever coached a team before?" Araki crossed her arms, skeptical.
Just two nights ago, Kota had asked her to let him sit on Yosen's bench as her assistant for this game — to help her beat Rakuzan.
Her doubt made him bristle. "Of course not! I'm still a high schooler. What kind of team would be dumb enough to let me coach?"
Yako: …
Realizing how bad that sounded, Kota scrambled to fix it. "I mean, it's fine! You're the head coach—I'll just handle the easy stuff!"
Easy stuff? Araki tilted her head, waiting.
"Think about it. Kaijo already faced Rakuzan in the finals before. I know their style. Having me here will definitely help Yosen."
He pounded his chest with confidence. He wasn't exaggerating either.
As Kaijo's point guard, he'd faced Akashi head-on many times. He might actually be the player in Japan who understood Akashi best.
Right now, nobody knows Akashi better than me.
More importantly, he could boost Yosen's morale. "Bench Hype Squad" weren't just for your own teammates, after all.
Meanwhile, Rakuzan entered from the tunnel.
Clad in pure white, they carried themselves with a solemn aura befitting one of the tournament's favorites.
At the front, Akashi walked with steady steps, his eyes scanning the crowd. Short as he was, he radiated authority.
"Man, this kid still knows how to make an entrance" Kota whistled, drawing Akashi's gaze.
When their eyes met, Akashi froze for a second, as if puzzled to see Kota there.
"Guess your Emperor Eye didn't warn you about tonight's surprise." Kota smirked.
"No matter. I am absolute."
Yep, same old Akashi.
Glancing at Kota and Araki, Akashi seemed to understand, then shook his head and joined his team's warmups.
"Even if you're here… it changes nothing. I've already seen the outcome."
Clutching the basketball, the golden light flickered in his pupils.
After losing both the Interhigh and Winter Cup last year, Akashi—raised from birth to succeed—couldn't accept failure.
Whether to avenge last year or prove his own worth, one thing was certain:
This year, Rakuzan… no, Akashi himself… would not fail.
....
Beeeep—
"Both teams, step forward and greet each other!"
Whether intentional or not, today's head referee was the same old man from last year's Winter Cup final between Kaijo and Seirin.
"Anyway, run more pick-and-rolls between Himuro and Murasakibara. Murasakibara, if you don't give me everything you've got in this game, I swear I'll chop you up after it's over."
On Yosen's bench, Kota wiped cold sweat as he listened to Araki give her version of a pregame pep talk. Not gonna lie, that was exactly her style.
"Please take care of us!"
Both starting fives lined up, bowing politely to each other.
Kota stroked his chin, analyzing the lineups.
Wild as Araki's words sounded, the "point" was spot-on.
If Yosen wanted to pull off an upset, it wasn't going to happen just with Kota's motivational speeches. As the team's primary core, Murasakibara had to step up and lead the game. If he didn't go all out, then not even Himuro plus the rest of the squad breaking their knees together would stand a chance.
"You think… we even have a shot at winning this?"
Araki smoothed back her bangs, eyes fixed on the court as she asked Kota quietly.
"Come on, you've got a whole database in your head—you should know better than me."
Kota grinned, crossing his legs on the bench.
"Last year, there was this weird team, and one of their guys asked me: Do you believe in miracles?"
"Kinda funny, huh? Araki, now I can tell you—miracles are real."
Tip-off!
At a height where he basically had cheat codes, Murasakibara snagged the opening possession without suspense.
Standing 2.08 meters before even graduating high school, this guy was like Shaquille O'Neal dropped into a teenage league.
As the Yosen point guard passed by, Murasakibara casually handed him the ball, then dragged his giant frame leisurely toward Rakuzan's half of the court.
Under Araki's system, Yosen's style was usually fast-paced, her players always showing relentless hustle on both ends. Sluggish? Lazy? That didn't exist on her team.
…Well, except for Murasakibara.
"Slow down, slow down!"
The Yosen point guard didn't rush to attack just because they had the jump-ball advantage. With Murasakibara around, they always started with the first possession anyway, so the routine was burned into their DNA.
On the bench, Kota tilted his head.
"That's not a first-year rookie, is it?"
Araki shot him an annoyed glance. "You really don't even know our starting lineup? That's Cho, a third-year."
"Ohhh, a senior—no wonder his movements look so polished."
Kota nodded, mentally noting the kid's fiery gestures.
But… polished or not, his actual strength left something to be desired.
At the top of the arc, Akashi looked at Cho bouncing around in front of him like a monkey in a zoo. A flash of irritation crossed his eyes.
Stepping forward slightly, Akashi's gaze sharpened—and suddenly, an oppressive aura crashed down on Cho.
"Eek!"
Cho shivered, fumbling the ball and quickly passing it off to Himuro. Only when Akashi's eyes left him did he finally breathe again, heart pounding.
"That red-haired guy… terrifying…"
"Atsushi"
Himuro, oblivious to his point guard's mini-breakdown, waved to Murasakibara, who was standing blankly in the paint. Reluctantly, the giant moved up to set a high screen.
Even half-hearted, Murasakibara's size alone was enough to block Mibuchi completely.
"Damn it!"
Feeling like he'd run into a wall, Mibuchi's face twisted. He quickly signaled for help defense.
Nebuya, stepped forward. At 1.80, Himuro was dwarfed, but Nebuya still boldly stood his ground. That left Mibuchi… to guard Murasakibara.
Mibuchu: …seriously?
No suspense. Murasakibara took Himuro's pass, ignored Mibuchi completely, and slammed it down with both hands for the opening basket.
Unlike Kagami's fiery dunks, Murasakibara's jam was delivered with zero emotion—like it was nothing out of the ordinary. That calm yet crushing scene immediately drew gasps from the crowd.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk…"
Kota clicked his tongue, watching the giant shuffle lazily back on defense.
"If this big guy actually tried, Akashi wouldn't even be the Miracle's captain."
Honestly, with this kind of body, if Murasakibara didn't waste his talent being a snack-loving slacker, Kuroko's Basketball would've ended in Season 1. He'd have steamrolled everyone and the show would've been over.
But, life's cruel like that. The world doesn't just hand you talent and reward effort.
Maybe… it's only when people lose talent's favor that they discover the true drive to work hard.