Nash sat with one leg crossed over the other, looking at the white-haired executives across from him with an expression that could only be described as "barely tolerating this meeting."
"I already told you—Japan is strong this year. Not just this year either. For the next ten years at least, they won't be weak."
"The Jabberwock losing to them wasn't because we underestimated them or because of some fluke. It was pure, hard strength… we got outplayed."
Nash spread his hands, speaking casually to the Association board members.
One executive flipped through the documents Nash had submitted. He pulled out a sheet and asked,
"Besides Japan… you also requested a training match with China… is that correct, Nash? Are you sure you didn't make a mistake?"
Nash nodded.
"Yeah. I met a pretty interesting guy over there. If I'm right… they won't be pushovers at the next World Tournament either."
"The only issue is—this guy told me if we want a training match, we'll have to wait until winter ends this year… so around early spring next year."
...
Outside the Association Building
"Hey old man, you still alive?"
Nash exited the building with one hand in his pocket, calling someone with the other as he laughed and cursed into the phone.
A gravelly old voice answered, "Brat, are you wishing for my death every day? What do you want now?"
Nash scratched his cheek. "Come on, can't I call you without a reason?"
The old man snorted. "Oh sure, you just wanted to check if I'd kicked the bucket? How thoughtful. If it's nothing, hang up. I'm busy—our national team brats are waiting for me to whip them into shape."
"Alright, alright, I'll stop messing around. I actually do have business."
Nash clicked his tongue.
"I played some one-on-one while I was in Japan and ran into someone. His defense felt… exactly like yours."
"Annoying, suffocating, and with the same awful stench."
Just remembering it sent a chill down Nash's spine—the image of Kota locking him down resurfaced like a trauma.
The old man perked up.
"Like me? Then that means he's a defensive specialist! Don't tell me you lost to him one-on-one, hahahaha!"
Nash rolled his eyes. Before he could respond, the old man kept going:
"Japan, huh? Heard your streetball team got their teeth kicked in overseas by a bunch of minors. Tsk tsk tsk. Streetballers really can't compare to real players."
That did it—Nash's patience snapped.
"The Jabberwock may not be world-class, but every one of us has national-team caliber skills! With me there, your little national team punks couldn't beat us even if they tried!"
The old man chuckled. "Don't get mad. I said the Jabberwock were a mess—obviously I didn't mean you or Silver. I'm counting on you two to help me win the next World Tournament. We're gonna take that trophy and soar."
"Anyway, tell me about this kid. Not Japanese? But Japan's still strong, is that what you're saying?"
"No, he's not Japanese. But even without him, Japan's current lineup… deserves attention."
Nash's mind replayed the Jabberwock game. Every player on that team had shocked him.
"If our national team faced them right now… what would happen?"
Nash frowned and pushed the thought aside. "His name's Kota. He's from China. Honestly, I'm starting to suspect he might be your illegitimate son. You two feel like clones on defense."
The old man was stunned. "Is that so? Do you know how many decades I've spent refining my defensive technique?"
"That's fifty or sixty years of defensive mastery! You little punks can't possibly reach my realm."
Seeing the old man didn't believe him, Nash simply said: "In early spring next year, we're going to China for that training match. You'll see him yourself."
"Honestly… I'm starting to doubt your 'fifty or sixty years of mastery.' That kid isn't even twenty."
"…Heh."
The old man replied calmly, "Fine. I'll be waiting."
Then he hung up.
Nash stared at the "Call Ended" message and shook his head, amused.
"This old fossil… like he wasn't the one who got mad first."
...
One Week Later Across Japan, Schools Prepare for the Winter Cup Kaijō High School Gym
Kise and Kota were deep into another one-on-one battle.
Kise attacked with the ball, his aura shifting with every step. One moment he activated Emperor Eye, the next he copied Aomine's irregular form shooting rhythm.
But no matter how wildly his tempo changed, Kota's defense never wavered. He was like an immovable mountain—calm, firm, and terrifyingly solid.
Finally, after his third failed attempt to break through, Kise lost patience. He stepped back and fired a contested jumper.
Kota reacted instantly. Just as the ball left Kise's hand, Kota lunged forward, slapping the ball out of the air with a clean steal that shut down Kise's entire sequence.
"Whoa—Kota, did you start taking steroids or something? Since when is your defense this nasty?!"
Kise stared at him in disbelief. Back when they first joined Kaijō, Kota struggled to handle even Kasamatsu in one-on-one drills—never mind Kise.
"Lately I feel like my defensive talent's finally coming out."
Kota pointed dramatically to the ceiling, looking mysterious.
He wasn't exaggerating. One night a week ago, while staring at his system out of boredom, he noticed something shocking:
His talent Death Bind (Harassment Version) had evolved.The suffix was gone.Now it was just Death Bind—the real thing.
Combined with his Pro Basketball Experience Pack, his defensive instincts had transformed. He wasn't just reading offense—he was predating it.
His steal timing had jumped several tiers.
Forget Kise—even Nash had only managed to score on him through pure physical superiority.
At this point, Kota had become a bona fide defensive monster.
"The old defensive black hole Kota? Yeah, he died and left no corpse behind!"
Kota flicked his head coolly, radiating confidence.
Kise sighed and passed the ball back.
"By the way, Kota—the Basketball Association sent me an invite yesterday. They want me to join the national U-18 team."
Kota paused.
"That's great. Join. With your talent, moving up to the senior national team is only a matter of time."
Kise hesitated, looking conflicted.
Kota stopped dribbling.
"What? Didn't you say you'd join the national team just to beat me up at the World Tournament and make me regret picking China?"
Kise winced as that old brag resurfaced. "That was just… talk. I'm hesitating because… they told me that after joining, we'll have closed-off training next spring. No school, no club, nothing."
Kota frowned. "Wait… don't tell me…"
"You actually like going to school?"
"Hah?!"
Kise froze. Before he could reply, Kota gave him a deadpan look, patting his shoulder.
"Come on, genius. This is literally a legal excuse to skip class. Teachers explain something once and you learn it instantly anyway. Isn't this your dream life?"
"Well… when you put it that way, you're not wrong. But if I join, I won't be able to play in next year's Interhigh with Kaijō…"
Kise finally admitted it.
If he joined the U-18 training camp, he'd miss next year's Interhigh with Kaijō. And after graduation, Kota would leave Japan… meaning far fewer chances to play together.
Now he'd lose another half year on top of that.
Kise's feelings were written all over his face. Kota understood immediately.
"What's wrong? You really want to keep playing with me that much?"
Kota hooked an arm around him, teasing. Kise jerked his head away, grumbling:
"Not really. I'm just worried that if I'm not around, you'll drop the championship. Before I came to Kaijō, I already had a three-peat at Teikō, you know. Don't go losing to Akashi and the others if I'm gone."
Hearing Kise's "scripted arrogance" speech—obviously not what he truly meant—Kota's face darkened.
Smack!
He karate-chopped Kise's head.
"Yeah, yeah. Just go join the U-18 training camp. And don't let me see you sitting on the bench at the World Tournament."
"And one more thing—I'm already a national team player for China. Unlike someone who's still stuck in U-18~"
Kota drawled the words teasingly.
Kise ignored the jab and extended his fist.
"After we win this year's Winter Cup — next year, even without me — you better take the championship."
Kota lifted his own fist.
"Don't worry, genius. Even without you at my side, there's no one left who can beat me."
Their knuckles tapped softly in the air.
It had become a tradition—before every major tournament, the Kaijō Twin Stars sealed their resolve the same way.
"Kaijō this year!"
"Still taking the championship!"