"Nash…"
"What is it, Silver?"
Nash had been deep in thought, mentally working through strategies for the second half, when Silver's voice pulled him out. He answered absentmindedly—until Silver leaned closer and began whispering in his ear. The more he spoke, the darker Nash's expression became.
Seaver didn't notice. He just kept talking, his tone low and full of excitement.
"That short red-haired kid—he's tiny. If we sandwich him and rough him up a little, the ref won't even notice."
A twisted smile curled across Silver's face as he spoke, as if he could already see Akashi injured, forced to leave the court—followed by Vorpal Swords's collapse.
But there was one thing Silver hadn't accounted for.
As terrible as Nash's personality could be, when it came to basketball—he had his own code.
"Silver."
Nash's voice cut through the air like a blade.
Before Silver could react, Nash's hand shot out and clamped around his throat.
"N–Nash?! What the hell are you—"
Silver tried to break free, but to his shock, he couldn't. Physically, he was much bigger, stronger even—but Nash's grip was like an iron vise, crushing down on his windpipe with terrifying force.
"This is the first—and last—time I'll say this to you, Silver."
Nash's voice dropped, cold and sharp. His eyes were filled with fury.
"I don't use dirty tricks like that. And I'll never allow anyone on my team to do something that disgusting."
He released Silver, who staggered back, clutching his neck and gasping for air.
Nash swept his gaze across the rest of the team.
They didn't know exactly what had happened, but the tension in the air told them enough. One by one, they nodded quickly, their faces going blank and obedient.
On the other side of the court, the Generation of Miracles were huddled together like gossiping schoolkids, watching the drama unfold from afar.
Kise squinted. "Hey, hey, looks like those two are about to throw down—oh crap! He's choking him! He's actually choking him!"
Aomine shoved him away. "Oi, get off me! They're choking each other, not us! Why the hell are you hugging me so tight—you trying to choke me too?!"
"Ahaha, sorry, sorry! I got a little excited, okay?" Kise laughed awkwardly, still peeking past Aomine's shoulder.
Midorima adjusted his glasses. "That tall blond one must be a Scorpio. My horoscope said Scorpios are prone to quarrels and conflict today."
Kagetora blinked. "Seriously? I'm a Scorpio too! Oh no… don't tell me my 'conflict' is gonna be losing this match and then committing seppuku after?!"
Kagami groaned. "Can you all stop talking nonsense? The real point here isn't astrology! Didn't you see that huge guy couldn't even fight back after Nash grabbed his throat?"
Murasakibara yawned. "That big dumb dude… I'm gonna grab him by the neck too in the second half and squish him like a bug."
Kuroko: [Quietly Observing.jpg]
Akashi stared at his team, utterly speechless.
He sighed softly.
"If Kota were here, would our team dynamic be even crazier than this?"
Then he thought again—and smirked.
"No, wait. If it were him, and Nash started throwing around "yellow monkey" insults like before, Kota would've been the first one to jump in and start cursing him out."
Twirling a strand of his red hair, Akashi chuckled quietly at the image of Kota and Nash going forehead to forehead, trash-talking each other into oblivion.
"For some reason… I can't help but feel those two meeting would be ridiculously entertaining.
Too bad you're all the way back in China right now. I wonder—are you still training hard?"
— — —
At that exact moment, in a small recreation room somewhere in China—
After a full day of training, the men's national basketball team was engaging in their most "refined" post-practice activity: a game of Dou Dizhu.
"Ah–choo!"
Kota suddenly sneezed, rubbing his nose with a puzzled look. "Why do I keep sneezing these days?"
"Straight from 10 to Ace! Only one card left!"
Zhou Yi slammed the table, eyes sparkling with excitement as he urged the other two to hurry up.
Li Wenyu frowned, staring at his cards in indecision. After several seconds of hesitation—and Zhou Yi's constant urging—he finally folded.
Seeing that, Kota rolled his eyes dramatically.
"Captain, are you saving your Jokers for the Lunar New Year?"
Li Wenyu blinked. "Wait, how'd you know I have both Jokers?"
Kota sighed, giving him the kind of look reserved for hopeless cases. "He just dropped a perfect straight, and you hesitated for ten seconds. If you didn't have a bomb, would you really be thinking that long?"
"I swear, you're hopeless. You've got a nuke and you didn't use it—what, you thought I was sitting here holding another one?"
With that, Kota tossed his last card onto the table. Zhou Yi took one look and burst out laughing.
"Bro, you're missing a 7 in that 3-4-5-6, and your 9-10-J-Q doesn't even have a K. Did you do something shady lately? Karma's really out for you!"
Kota: "…"
Li Wenyu scratched his head sheepishly. He knew he'd messed up, but still tried to defend himself. "Hey, come on, look at my hand! Even if I dropped the Jokers, I'd still be stuck. My cards are trash!"
Kota didn't even glance at his cards. He just leaned over, flipped Zhou Yi's last card, and placed it face-up in front of Li Wenyu.
It was the three of spades.
Li Wenyu froze, then groaned miserably as he threw his cards down in defeat.
At this point, he'd been losing for almost two hours straight. Aside from a few lucky hands even a pig could've won, he hadn't had a single victory—except for the rare times Kota carried him through.
The shuffling began again with a crisp pa-pa-pa, signaling the start of another round.
Zhou Yi grinned while dealing. "Kota, how are you this good at cards and basketball? Wait—don't tell me you actually calculated that I had a three left earlier?"
Kota just shrugged modestly, which, of course, meant 'yes'. He glanced at his hand, and within seconds, already knew how the round would end.
Unsurprisingly, when he won the bid for landlord—even without a single Joker—his card-reading precision carried him to yet another easy victory.
As the pile of chips in front of him grew into a small mountain, Li Wenyu stared enviously.
"By the way, Kota," he asked, "when are you heading back to Japan? Coach Sun said you still have one more year of school, right?"
Kota nodded. "Yeah. I'm a second-year at a high school in Japan. If all goes well, I'll settle here permanently after I graduate next year."
Hearing that, Zhou Yi perked up. "Then when you come back, I'm gonna pay you back double for what you did to me in training last time!"
Even now, Zhou Yi still couldn't forget the humiliation of that scrimmage—when Kota had single-handedly dismantled him in front of everyone.
Kota laughed lightly. "I'll be waiting."
"Probably next week," he added. "Once I've memorized all of Coach Sun's playbooks, he'll let me return."
"Next week?! You're serious?" Li Wenyu looked shocked. "There's so much tactical stuff! You've already learned all that?"
It was true—when Sun first took over the team, the players had been buried under an avalanche of strategies and movement drills.
"Man, those days were hell," Li Wenyu groaned. "Up at six every morning, running laps while memorizing plays. It was torture."
Zhou Yi nodded. "Yeah! With all those weird terms—'horn sets,' 'pick and roll,' 'floppy actions'—it felt like studying for a grad school exam!"
For an average player, mastering that much tactical detail in such a short time was nearly impossible.
But Kota wasn't an average player. His experience—the mental "database" of a seasoned pro—let him process and internalize complex systems effortlessly.
Most of Sun's playbook felt familiar to him, and even the trickier new concepts barely slowed him down.
In fact, some of Kota's own preferred tactics had given Sun fresh inspiration.
For example, when refining "Horns" and "Seven Seconds or Less," Kota had suggested several improvements—enough to make Sun momentarily consider grooming him as a future coach.
Naturally, Kota refused.
Their game night didn't last too late—they still had morning practice ahead.
Sun, of course, knew about their poker sessions. Contrary to his strict reputation, he didn't mind.
On the court, he demanded absolute discipline. Off it, he believed players deserved to unwind however they liked.
Whether it was cards, drinks, or women—he didn't care, as long as it didn't affect performance the next day.
In the following days, Kota kept refining his tactical knowledge and syncing with teammates through scrimmages.
It didn't take long for Sun to be completely satisfied.
Kota's basketball IQ was off the charts. Not only did he understand the plays instantly, but his chemistry with teammates grew rapidly.
In less than a month, he'd completed everything Sun had assigned him—ahead of schedule.
After another long day of training, Kota packed his bag and looked out the window at the fading sky.
Somewhere out there—in another country—were people and stories he still cared deeply about.
"…Guess I'll head back soon," he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. "The days I'll spend here are still long ahead… but for now—time to go home."