Kota's words carried an invisible kind of magic. Just moments ago, Yosen's players had been fuming, stewing in frustration, but now, they all fell silent.
Even Murasakibara's expression settled back to normal, his gaze calmly fixed on Kota.
Talent Activated
The cold, robotic tone of the "system" echoed in Kota's head, yet to him it felt like an injection of pure adrenaline.
"It's working… So I guess my real talent is running my mouth, huh?"
Inside, Kota was amused, though outwardly he kept his calm, composed look.
His fiery pep talk just now wasn't some miracle plan—it was simply to calm down Yosen's shaken hearts. If they wanted to truly threaten Rakuzan, that alone wasn't nearly enough.
"Listen up, kids."
With a snap of his fingers, Kota pulled out a whiteboard from who-knows-where and beckoned the team over.
Himuro reacted first, walking over to peek at the board. To his surprise, there was actually something drawn on it! Not just for show.
Noticing Himuro's serious face, the other players exchanged glances and crowded around too. Even Murasakibara inched closer, using his height to peek over everyone else's shoulders and eavesdrop.
"Rakuzan is a team that's strong from the point guard to the center. They've got three of the Uncrowned Kings and one member of the Generation of Miracles. On paper, they're nearly perfect. Offense, defense — you name it. Right now, they're practically unstoppable. No weaknesses."
Kota first acknowledged Rakuzan's strength. When he saw everyone listening closely, he gave a satisfied nod.
"So then, Coach—uh, I mean, Kota… how do we beat Rakuzan?"
Himuro couldn't hold back. After nearly two full quarters, he knew Kota wasn't exaggerating—Rakuzan really was that strong. But knowing they're strong wasn't the point. They had to beat them.
Perfect setup for Kota. He paused dramatically, then continued.
"Exactly. Just watching with your eyes, Rakuzan looks like they've got way too much power for a high school team. But you've already played them for a while. You should've noticed by now—Rakuzan does have one fatal weakness!"
A fatal weakness?
Everyone tilted their heads, waiting eagerly.
"You guys are really slow, huh? Can't even see something this obvious?"
Kota shook his head in mock disappointment.
"Their point guard is way too short. That's our chance!"
"…Their point guard… is too short?"
Himuro blinked. Murasakibara blinked. Everyone in Yosen blinked. Even Araki stared at Kota like he was insane.
"Rakuzan's deadliest weakness is… Akashi?!"
Meanwhile, on the other end of the court, Akashi suddenly felt an itch in his nose, as if he were about to sneeze.
Of course, as the heir of the prestigious Akashi family, there was no way he'd allow himself to sneeze in public. He forced the impulse down, casually rubbed his nose, and frowned.
"Strange. Am I catching a cold?"
Suspicious, he glanced toward Yosen's bench and activated the Emperor Eye again, scanning their condition. Nothing unusual. He moved his gaze away.
"Think about it. That red-haired pipsqueak—sure, he's a Miracle, Rakuzan's captain, with insane handles and passing. But strip away all those shiny titles, and what's left? A sub-170 cm shorty of a point guard."
Kota said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, dead serious.
For a second… everyone almost believed him.
"…Like hell! You just admitted he's got a dozen god-tier skills! How do you strip that away?!"
Meeting the team's skeptical looks, Kota cleared his throat and got to the actual plan.
"Here's what we'll do. Himuro will handle the ball, everyone else spreads the floor. Target Akashi. Murasakibara, crash the boards harder—don't waste too much stamina in this quarter, just focus on offensive rebounds. Save your full power for the second half."
It was a simple tactic. In other words: iso ball. Spread out, let Himuro attack one-on-one.
In a normal game, when the offense stalls, the team's best shot creator steps up. So in theory, it made sense. But…
"I… I don't think I can beat Akashi…"
Himuro hesitated. He'd been polite about it—avoiding harsher words so as not to embarrass Kota—but everyone could hear the lack of confidence.
Kota, unfazed, waved it off.
"Don't worry. I told you already, strip away the hype and he's just a shorty. As long as you don't let him swipe the ball, he's easy pickings!"
Himuro: "…"
"And besides…"
Kota slung an arm around Himuro's shoulder, leaned in, and whispered.
"Right now, Yosen needs someone to stand up and bring back the team's confidence. Murasakibara's stamina can't be wasted. That leaves you. You're the best—no, the only choice."
"Himuro… your teammates need you."
Himuro's body trembled. He looked up.
The eyes of his teammates held different emotions—Worry, that he couldn't handle the task. Doubt, that he couldn't beat Akashi.Encouragement, no matter the result, they wanted him to try.
But above all else… expectation.
They wanted him to face Akashi. To rise to the challenge. To lead Yosen to victory.
For a player, what could be more motivating than realizing—The team needs you.
"…I understand. I'll take down Akashi!"
...
Timeout over.
The little episode on Yosen's bench didn't interfere with the game.
The referee glanced their way, saw there was no fight breaking out, and blew the whistle to resume play.
As Himuro walked back on court, he rubbed his right wrist and lifted his eyes toward the scoreboard.
36–38, Rakuzan still in the lead.
Huff—
Taking a deep breath, Himuro suddenly felt sharper than ever. Somehow, Kota's pep talk had cleared his head. He hadn't even touched the ball yet, but his mind was already in that familiar blank state he usually reached only during practice.
"My condition feels… really good right now."
The thought gave him confidence.
"Himuro!"
Just as Kota had instructed, Cho quickly encouraged him with a few words, then passed the ball into his hands. Without hesitation, Cho cut straight to the corner, leaving the high post completely open for Himuro.
Not only Cho—everyone else except Murasakibara spread out to the corners, leaving one side of the court wide open.
"Yosen's really… going one-on-one with Akashi??"
The crowd immediately picked up on their intent. You didn't need to be a basketball genius to see it.
With Himuro facing Akashi at the top of the key while everyone else stood five meters away, this setup could only mean one thing: isolation.
For the first time, a faint smile appeared on Akashi's otherwise expressionless face. His golden eyes gleamed as he spread his arms.
"Interesting. Come."
He said it casually, as if addressing a challenger.
Himuro didn't rush. He calmly dribbled, breathing evenly, replaying Kota's advice in his head.
"Clear your mind… focus on the ball… whether it's dribbling or shooting, keep your thoughts aligned…"
Once he confirmed his state, Himuro began to pick up rhythm.
A few crossovers at first—slow, deliberate. But soon, his dribbles grew quicker, sharper, yet his breathing remained steady.
"Keep breathing… keep empty…"
Then he struck. A Hardaway crossover, exploding to the right.
Akashi's eyes narrowed. Emperor Eye activated, instantly predicting Himuro's next step. He slid over, his right hand slicing down like a scythe toward the ball.
"Calm mind… pull the trigger… that's how you enter the Zone, right?"
In that instant of danger, Himuro's mind was crystal clear.
Click.
It was like a camera shutter snapping. Or the trigger of a gun being pulled.
Suddenly, unease shot through Akashi's chest. The ball that had been inches away from his hand—was gone. His eyes caught only Himuro's leg in midair.
"What—?"
Before he could react, Himuro rose, cradling the ball with his left hand while guiding it upward with his right. A flash of blue lightning sparked in his eyes.
Akashi's hand brushed against Himuro's leg — too late.
The whistle shrieked. The ball swished clean through the net.
Zone: Mirage Shot! (Super Jump Shot)
Yosen's 2+1
The score tied again, 38–38, with Himuro heading to the free-throw line.
On the bench, Kota casually patted Araki's shoulder. Still staring in shock, she watched him stroke his chin in deep thought.
"You think I should start a class? Teaching people how to enter the Zone? Hm… wonder how much I could charge per student?"
While Kota was busy daydreaming about tuition fees, the rest of the arena was in uproar.
Akashi's jaw tightened. He had clearly seen the blue lightning in Himuro's eyes.
"Why… did Emperor Eye fail to predict you as well?"
His most trusted ability — once again deceived. First by Kota. Now by Himuro.
The frustration twisted his expression, but unlike last year against Kota, there was no lapse of control this time.
As Himuro calmly drained his free throw, Akashi shut his eyes and steadied himself.
"Hirakawa. Give me the ball."
The Rakuzan first-year power forward, who had been jogging to take the inbound, immediately deferred. Akashi himself stepped out of bounds to initiate the play.
Kota squinted as Hirakawa ran past.
"That guy… I remember him. A forward who loves to organize plays. Odd he hasn't made much impact yet."
He shook the thought away. His eyes locked on Akashi.
Against most teams, Himuro entering the Zone would have been the beginning of the end.
But this was Rakuzan. Akashi's Rakuzan. One player alone would never be enough.
"From now on… there will be no more surprises in my vision."
Akashi muttered as he passed the ball in. The moment Mibuchi caught it, a surge of pressure spread from Akashi across the entire team.
A pink spark flashed in each Rakuzan player's eyes.
Zone: Team Mode!
Mibuchi immediately handed the ball back. Akashi received it and walked up the court, every step heavy with authority.
Across from him, Himuro crouched low, blue sparks still flickering in his gaze.
"Just as Kota said… their team Zone is suffocating."
But Himuro clenched his jaw.
"Even so, I'll stop you, Akashi!"
Dribbling past half-court, Akashi met Himuro's eyes. His expression turned faintly amused.
"You don't really believe you can guard me, do you?"
"…Only one way to find out."
Himuro's eyes locked on Akashi's waist — the one part of the body no fake could truly disguise. A defensive trick Kota had drilled into him.
But Kota hadn't mentioned one detail: against ordinary players, this worked. Against the Generation of Miracles? Not so much.
Without another word, Akashi stepped forward. His dribble echoed differently, sharper than usual.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Simple crossovers, almost lazy. To the untrained eye, pointless.
But to Himuro, each bounce pressed heavier and heavier, like weights sinking him into the floor. A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek.
"This is just a greeting" Akashi said coldly. "For a mortal daring to offend a god, such punishment is light. Be grateful."
And then—slash! A crisp crossover. Himuro's eyes stayed on the waist, but his body froze. His balance collapsed, legs buckling.
The next dribble broke the spell. Himuro toppled backward.
Akashi barely spared him a glance, rising into a smooth mid-range jumper.
Swish
Silence for a heartbeat. Then the arena erupted—"AKASHI! AKASHI! AKASHI!"
His name thundered through the air, but Akashi simply scratched his ear, annoyed at the noise.
To him, this wasn't celebration. It was routine.
Meanwhile, Himuro sat on the floor, head bowed, staring blankly at the court.
On the bench, Araki panicked, ready to call a timeout — until Kota stopped her.
"If he breaks just from this, there's no point in playing the rest of the game."
He pressed her shoulder, grinning as he looked at Himuro.
"And besides… don't you have a little more faith in your own player?"
She turned, startled—just in time to see Himuro rise, wiping sweat from his face.
Blue sparks still flashed in his eyes, unwavering.
Kota spread his hands and raised a brow.
"See? What did I tell you?"