"The final score between Shūtoku and Kaijō ended at 131–126, with Kaijō taking the win!"
Inside the livestream studio, Bobo sighed as he watched the post-game footage of Shūtoku's players crying on the court. Even his commentary softened a little.
"In this match, Midorima performed brilliantly — he scored ninety-one points, along with five assists and four rebounds. He went twenty-seven for twenty-seven from the three-point line! A perfect 100% shooting rate!"
At that, the two co-hosts, Sasa and Nini, gasped in perfect unison. Sure, part of it was for the show's effect, but they were genuinely stunned.
"Twenty-seven for twenty-seven… Maybe nobody will ever pull that off again" Bobo muttered, taking a deliberate sip of water before continuing. "In the fourth quarter, Shūtoku's ace, Midorima, was completely exhausted and had to sit out. At that time, the score was still 118–111—Shūtoku was leading."
"Once Midorima left, Shūtoku's offense crumbled. Kaijō seized the moment, pushing a relentless offensive rhythm. Within three minutes, they launched a 13–5 run, flipping the scoreboard! Even though Takao, Shūtoku's point guard, made several clutch shots near the end, they still couldn't overcome Kaijō."
"Kaijō's twin aces combined for a total of sixty-seven points—Kise scored thirty-eight points, three assists, and seven rebounds; Kota had twenty-nine points, twelve assists, and two rebounds. Both played outstandingly, and every other Kaijō player scored in double digits. Once again, Kaijō proved their strength to the world!"
"Let's congratulate Kaijō for making it to the Interhigh Final!'"
Cameras clicked, flashes burst—
Kota sat at the post-game interview table, with Takeuchi seated beside him.
Normally, Takeuchi wouldn't allow his players to face the media unless they had already won the championship. But Kota was an exception.
In previous interviews, he'd handled questions smoothly and stayed composed afterward. So, this time, Takeuchi felt confident enough to bring him along.
"Mr. Kota, how are you feeling after this big win?" A kind-looking male reporter asked first.
Having done this before, Kota handled the easy question with ease.
"I feel great! Winning always feels amazing. Honestly, I just hope we can wrap this up soon so I can go home, take a long shower, and crash in bed."
The reporters chuckled. His light joke immediately broke the ice and brought warmth to the room.
Of course, even with the friendly mood, the "trap" questions were bound to come—reporters had a job to do, after all.
After a few harmless questions, a sharp-eyed journalist with a goatee leaned forward and asked,
"Mr. Kota, what do you have to say to Shūtoku, the team you defeated today? And, if possible, what about Rakuzan, who lost to you back in the quarterfinals?"
Kota tilted his head slightly, studying the reporter. The man gave a sly smile and added,
"You know, Mr. Kota, those two games have drawn a lot of fan attention. Especially Seirin."
The atmosphere instantly cooled. Takeuchi frowned, watching Kota carefully. He trusted him not to say anything reckless—but he was still curious how his point guard would respond.
"Next question" Takeuchi thought. That was usually Kota's go-to escape line.
And most reporters in the room thought the same—including the one who'd asked the question.
But this time, Kota surprised them all—he chose to answer.
"I saw some Shūtoku players crying after the match" Kota began calmly.
"And I won't say that's bad. Honestly, if we'd lost today, I might've felt sad enough to cry too."
He adjusted the microphone slightly, settling into a more comfortable posture.
"Some people might think that's overdramatic. After all, we're not pros—it's just high school basketball, just a club activity. Crying over something like that sounds ridiculous..."
He paused, then smiled faintly.
"But that's the thing—only those who stand on the court truly know how it feels. The joy of victory, and the pain of losing."
The room went completely silent. Even the reporter who had tried to bait him now looked at Kota with genuine respect.
"Oh, right. You also asked what I wanted to say to them, didn't you?" Kota scratched his head, smiling at the cameras. "Work hard. Kaijō will be waiting for you next year."
Takeuchi coughed twice to hide his grin, glancing at Kota with approval. Kota, ever smug, shrugged in return—Nice try, his expression said. You think a cheap question could trip up someone with "Leader's Speech" as a natural skill?
The rest of the reporters tried tossing out more tricky questions, but Kota dodged every one effortlessly. As the interview neared its end, a petite female reporter with short hair pushed her way to the front.
"Mr. Kota, hello! I'm a huge Kaijō fan!"
As she passed him the mic, her eyes sparkled like she'd just met her idol.
Kota raised an eyebrow. "If this were a fan meeting, I'd happily give you an autograph. Thanks for the support."
Her hands trembled with excitement, but she managed to steady herself enough to ask, "Mr. Kota, do you have any plans to join Japan's national team? According to the Basketball Association president, this generation of high school players has incredible potential!"
For a moment, Kota's smile froze—but only for a heartbeat. He quickly regained composure and ignored the glance from Takeuchi beside him.
"Can I take that as a compliment, miss reporter?"
"Of course! If you're not considered top talent, then the standard must be way too high!" she said cheerfully.
Kota chuckled, looking straight into the camera. "Thank you. But no—I don't plan on joining the national team."
He leaned back, smirked slightly, and added—"Next question."
Kaijō Locker Room
After the interview, Takeuchi and Kota returned to the locker room. Just like after last year's Winter Cup, the other players had already left, leaving only the two of them in the large, quiet space.
Takeuchi stood near the door, silently watching Kota pack his things. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one.
Click!
The sharp sound of the lighter echoed in the room.
"Come on, Coach" Kota muttered, rolling his eyes. "There's still a kid here, you know."
Takeuchi laughed. "A kid, huh? You mean you?"
"Yup. Of course. I'm not even an adult yet," Kota said casually as he changed out of his jersey. "Minors count as kids."
Takeuchi froze, staring at the player who'd just handled a press conference like a seasoned pro. Then he sighed softly. "You're right about that."
He stubbed out the cigarette and tossed it in the trash.
Kota blinked in surprise. "Huh? Coach, I was just kidding. Don't worry—I'm not one of those brats who freaks out at the sight of a cigarette."
In his past life as a college student, Kota hadn't smoked, but he didn't judge those who did. Sometimes, people needed something like that to heal their scars.
"You're something else" Takeuchi said with a small smile. "You act like a kid one moment and talk like an old man the next."
He paused. "When's your birthday, anyway?"
Kota grinned. "Why, Coach? Planning to buy me a coming-of-age gift?"
To his surprise, Takeuchi didn't deny it.
"Wait—seriously? You're the kind of coach who spoils his players like they're his own kids?"
Kota laughed awkwardly. "I didn't see you do that for Kasamatsu-senpai."
Takeuchi just exhaled, lighting another cigarette."When are you leaving Japan?"
The air went still. Kota stopped packing. Takeuchi took a slow drag and blew out a thin stream of smoke.
After a moment, Kota chuckled. "So you already knew, huh, Coach?"
He didn't bother asking how. Maybe it was Araki, or Kise—it didn't matter.
"Tell me, Coach. If you knew your point guard was leaving soon, would you still build your team around him?"
Takeuchi inhaled deeply before replying,"Yes. I would."
"You're still you, Kota. As long as you're here, you'll always be Kaijō's starting point guard."
Kota smiled faintly, raising his Kaijō jersey and looking at the name stitched across the back.
"That's enough for me. Thanks, Coach."
Soon, the video of Kota's interview went viral online. His comments about how "non-professional players experience the real meaning of basketball" struck a chord with countless fans.
Most people who loved basketball never had the time, talent, or resources to go pro. For them, the greatest opponent they'd ever face might just be a stranger at a local court.But that never stopped them from dreaming.
The final question—about joining Japan's national team—sparked another wave of discussion. Some said Kota was wasting his potential, others believed he was just staying true to himself.
Still, all that chatter was just background noise. The real spotlight was on the next big game—
Rakuzan vs. Tōō!
It happened the same day as Kaijō vs. Shūtoku. Once "Basketball Zone" finished one broadcast, they seamlessly switched to the second.
Final Score: 115–112. Rakuzan wins.
Because of scheduling, Kaijō's players couldn't watch live—but Kota had told the team manager to record the match in full.
Tōō played well. Their rookie point guard, Igarashi, stood out—especially in the first half. Against Akashi, he not only held his ground but managed to organize the team effectively, feeding Aomine in the paint with precision passes.
By halftime, Igarashi had 8 points, 5 assists, 3 rebounds, and 2 steals. Impressive numbers for a freshman playing against Rakuzan.
But then came the second half.
Perhaps Akashi had been "testing" him—because once he switched to full power, Rakuzan completely flipped the script. The Team Zone—the legendary ultimate technique once owned by Seirin—returned to dominate the court.
Igarashi had never seen anything like it. Against Akashi's overwhelming coordination and control, the rookie cracked. He finished the game with 10 points, 12 assists, 5 rebounds, 2 steals—and 11 turnovers.
Rakuzan overpowered Tōō completely. Aomine fought hard, but even he couldn't match Akashi's relentless tempo. By the final minute, when Akashi sank the dagger three-pointer, Aomine could only watch it fall through.
Rakuzan advanced to the finals.
The internet erupted again. The same "prophet" blogger who'd predicted a Kaijō vs. Rakuzan final went absolutely wild, posting a 30-minute video about his "unmatched foresight."
"See? What did I tell you?! Kaijō versus Rakuzan! Didn't I say it from the start? Who said I don't know basketball?! Every prediction I've made was spot-on!"
"And guess what—I'm not stopping there! My next prediction will be right too! Rakuzan's gonna beat Kaijō! Mark my words, everyone! Spam those Ws in chat!!"
He was loud, arrogant, and—annoyingly—accurate.
This time, even his haters stayed quiet. After all, nobody liked getting dunked on by reality.
But Kaijō fans weren't having it.
Their team had won two consecutive Interhigh titles. They'd beaten Rakuzan last interhigh — and beaten the team that beat Rakuzan this winter. By that logic, Kaijō was two tiers above Rakuzan!
As they flooded the blogger's mentions, one tweet from Takeuchi suddenly stole the spotlight.
The night before the finals, Kaijō's head coach posted:
"You're no prophet.
Real ones don't live to see tomorrow.
See you at the finals."