"Takeshi!"
Akashi barked the command, and Takeshi instantly understood. He sprinted to Kota's side and set another screen for Akashi.
This time, Kota had already spotted Takeshi coming—but instead of pre-emptively stepping back to slip the screen, he stayed put and waited for the screen to fully form before making his move.
Kota retreated while his hands brushed lightly across Takeshi's back—a little trick he used when slipping around screens. By using his hands as feelers, he could better sense Takeshi's exact position and even use a subtle push to accelerate his recovery.
But even so, Takeshi still managed to delay him.
Just like the previous play, Akashi broke free and switched onto Takumi once again, calmly dropping in another easy two.
Kota's brows pinched together. He glanced at the referee—no whistle. Not even a hint of one. Then he looked to Kise, who shook his head. Even Kise didn't see any sign of an illegal moving screen.
"…This is going to be annoying."
Kota ruffled his hair in irritation.If he ruled out the possibility of Akashi bribing the referees or manipulating the game—unlikely but not impossible—there was only one explanation left.
Takeshi had a bizarre, freakish talent for setting screens.
It sounded absurd. After all, basketball had been evolving for decades, and the rules were extremely clear by now.
Especially when it came to screens—strict referees would call a "moving screen" for even the tiniest shift in body position.
In modern basketball, screening had practically become a biological advantage. Big, broad, heavy players naturally produced quality screens. Slender players simply couldn't provide that same level of support.
"…Never thought even screens could get this weird. Damn this Black-Basket universe."
Kota muttered as he dribbled the ball back across half court.
"Neither the refs nor the others think he's moving at all. So—his feet really aren't shifting?"
"Hayakawa! Come set a screen!"
Kota signaled Hayakawa over, though his mind was still wrestling with Takeshi's strange technique.
"Could he be tilting his body a little? No, the ref would see that…"
Using his Overthinker, Kota split his focus in two—one part analyzing Takeshi's technique, the other executing a perfectly timed pick-and-roll with Hayakawa.
Charging into the paint, Hayakawa received Kota's pass and finished with a smooth hook shot, slipping past Nebuya's help defense.
"Yossha!!"
Hayakawa threw both arms up in a bodybuilder pose—already a signature celebration everyone recognized.
"Nice one, Hayakawa-senpai! Your biceps are looking amazing today!"
Kise pointed at him admiringly.
The moment he said that, Kota suddenly froze.
He stared blankly at Hayakawa — still posing dramatically on Rakuzan's side of the court. Because of the force he used on that last play, his biceps were practically bulging under the lights, flexing with that… unique gym-bro aesthetic.
Kota then turned sharply toward Takeshi. The ball-handling power forward also had a surprisingly solid build. Even through his jersey, Kota could see the sharp definition beneath.
And then… the dumbest, most ridiculous idea popped into Kota's head.
"…Don't tell me this guy is blocking me with flexed muscles?"
First Quarter – Closing Moments
The battle between Kaijō and Rakuzan had only just begun.
33–30, Kaijō leads.
With Kota as the tactical core, extending into Kise and Yuki's scoring routes, their offense was practically unstoppable.Kota had deliberately balanced the shot distribution — Yuki and Kise had ten points each, and Kota himself had six, along with five assists.
Overall, Kaijō had an excellent first quarter.
Rakuzan, meanwhile, kept the score close—but more than half of their points came from Akashi running plays with Takeshi.
After so many possessions guarding Takeshi's screens, Kota finally understood the trick.
Just as he suspected: when setting a screen, Takeshi subconsciously flexed every muscle in his body, making himself subtly—but significantly—wider.
To outside observers, he looked the same. But to someone actively slipping around the screen—like Kota—the difference was crystal clear.
Fortunately, there was a solution.
Now that Kota understood it, he only needed to adjust his angle while slipping the screen. The extra delay would have to be covered by Kise helping contain Akashi.
Just like that, Kaijō broke through Rakuzan's tactic and seized the initiative of the finals.
With Kota drilling a deep, long-range three to end the quarter, the buzzer sounded.
The game moved into the second quarter, and the lead widened.
36–30, Kaijō ahead.
"Tch… they're as annoying as ever."
Nebuya gulped from his water bottle, glancing irritably at Hayakawa on Kaijō's bench.
Unlike the Interhigh, where Nebuya had crushed him completely, Hayakawa today was playing like he'd eaten rocket fuel—aggressive on both ends and far more energetic.
Nebuya still controlled the paint with his physique, but things were nowhere near as easy as before.
"It's fine, Nebuya-senpai. The gap isn't that big. Shame Kota hit that three — he probably got lucky, right?"
Takeshi wiped sweat from his face.
Mibuchi twirled a finger and corrected him:
"Nope. That's not luck. He had that long-range shot last year too. The disgusting part is he never uses it like a real shooter. He only pulls it out when we let our guard down!"
Mibuchi squeezed the water bottle in frustration.
"And that freshman! There's a limit to how broken a kid can be! A first-year playing like that?! Is he trying to become the next Generation of Miracles?!"
Mibuchi had suffered the most in the first quarter. His foul-baiting three-pointer gimmick didn't work at all on Yuki, who now had actual defensive training. And on defense, Mibuchi couldn't keep up with Yuki's explosive first step.
In short — Mibuchi was completely outmatched.
Oh, right… and so was Hayama.
"If you don't wanna deal with that baby-face, wanna trade matchups?"
Hayama covered his face with both hands, absolutely defeated.
As the top small forward below the Miracles and a beast-style attacker, he normally dominated most opponents. But against Kise, the Thunder Beast instantly became a chihuahua.
With Akashi unable to offer as much help—because Kota's defense skyrocketed this year—Hayama had no breathing room at all.
Of all ten players, only Nebuya could claim a slight advantage. Takeshi and Akashi were holding even. Mibuchi and Hayama were getting destroyed.
Seeing morale dip, Hirakawa quickly tried to encourage everyone:
"It's okay, senpai! At least for now, my screens with the captain are still getting us points! If we keep this up until the fourth quarter, then we definitely—"
"Sorry to interrupt, Takeshi."
Akashi cut him off with a flick of the hand.His eyes flashed gold and red, voice drifting between near and far.
"They've already cracked your screening ability."
His narrowed gaze locked onto Kaijō's bench—shock flickering in his expression.
"To improve this much in just half a year…?"
His focus finally settled on Kota.
"No… Kise and the others improved gradually. But you… you're the one who caused Kaijō's entire team strength to spike…"
Akashi remembered the first time he'd met Kota. He'd called him a talentless ordinary human.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Looking back now… what a laughable thing to say."
He leaned his head back, staring upward in quiet reflection. Then the cold expression returned.
"If we keep playing like this—we'll lose."
He said it flatly, as if discussing the weather.But Rakuzan's players believed him without question.
The game was only one quarter in. The gap was only six points. If anyone else said they were doomed, they'd have been smacked.
But this was Akashi.
"Captain, how should we play?"
Feeling their expectant stares, Akashi spoke calmly:
"I don't know the correct strategy…"
"…but I hate doing nothing even more."
BEEP—!
Second quarter begins.
Kota walked to the sideline, yawning as he nodded to the referee and took the ball for the inbound.
But then — a sudden jolt of danger shot through him.
Danger Sense
Kota turned sharply. A pink glow flashed through his vision.
No—not one glow.
Five. Five pink glows.
Kota's mouth dropped open. He tugged at his cheeks—yep, the pain was real.
He wasn't dreaming.
"Oh crap. I knew they'd power up… but Rakuzan going full berserk mode in the second quarter?!"
"…Akashi, seriously—who the hell taught you to play like THIS?!"