Aida Riko wasn't foolish—she knew full well that Kirisaki Daiichi didn't defeat Yōsen just through offense. Their defense had been just as critical.
But Kagami wasn't Tendou. He didn't have those invincible Six Eyes, nor Tendou's flawless perimeter shooting.
Kagami played the power forward position. He had shooting ability, yes, but most of his scoring came inside the arc.
So what could Seirin do if they couldn't go head-to-head with Yōsen's size?
"Damn it, how the hell did Kirisaki pull it off?"
Kagami wiped the sweat from his brow.
Never mind trying to take on Murasakibara—even going up against a big like Kenichi Okamura, he was being shut down. He couldn't find any opening to use his strengths.
Yōsen's triple-tower lineup had an overwhelming size advantage.
But then, Kagami began to adapt.
Kiyoshi Teppei walked over and gave him a pat. On the very next possession, Kagami began to grasp the proper technique in the post.
He lowered his hips, planted his hands firmly, and kept Okamura from backing into the paint.
In the end, he shut down that possession.
Just like that. The entire adjustment took no more than a few seconds.
While Tendou was watching the match unfold on the screen, Kiyoshi casually said to him, "Lower your center of gravity—he's got a high stance."
And just like that, Kagami figured out how to handle Okamura.
In this way, the game wore on.
By halftime, the score was 40–34. Seirin trailed by six.
Both teams had fairly low scoring efficiency. Even the highly-touted Atsushi Murasakibara only had 10 points.
But that didn't mean the match wasn't thrilling.
The physical intensity was enormous. Players' bodies collided constantly, muscles crashing against muscles.
At the very least, Tendou was thoroughly enjoying it.
The first time he ever watched a game was because of Chairman Yao. Back then, the NBA looked just like this—low scores, grueling defense. Sometimes, a team would end a full game with only 70 points.
Just like this.
"Little Ten, go grab a drink?"
"Yeah."
Halftime was long. No point just standing around—it was better to stretch their legs.
"You guys want to come?"
"I… Nah, you two go ahead."
Kise almost raised his hand to join, but then noticed Momoi behind Tendou casting a sharp look his way. He backed down instantly.
"Scary… So Momoi's actually that kind of woman?"
Kise couldn't help but think of his own older sister—always smiling, but with an aura that sent chills down your spine.
...
"What do you want to drink?"
"Water's fine."
"You should switch it up now and then. You're really not like someone under pressure."
Despite her teasing, Momoi still handed him a bottle of water.
Just as they sat down to rest, they ran into Kagami and Kuroko.
"Tendou!"
As soon as Kagami spotted him, his expression shifted.
The man standing before him was the one he most wanted to challenge—and defeat.
"It's you guys. Been a while."
"Long time no see, Tendou-kun. Momoi-san."
"We just saw each other in the qualifiers, so don't act like it's been forever."
Momoi greeted them too, but the air turned awkward fast.
Tendou and Kagami were never close. Even Kuroko, once a teammate, had little in common with him anymore due to their clashing philosophies.
And Kagami, from the moment he saw Tendou, had been staring at him intensely.
"Don't look at me like that. This kind of atmosphere makes me uncomfortable." Tendou stood up and left without hesitation. "I'm heading back. I'll see you guys on the court."
Kagami and Kuroko didn't stop him. They simply watched his back as he walked away, not looking away until he was gone.
Then Kagami pulled a necklace—or rather, a ring—from his pocket.
It was a gift from Himuro Tatsuya, a symbol of their brotherhood.
He handed it to Kuroko and said, "Kuroko, I have a favor to ask. Could you throw this away for me?"
"Huh?" Kuroko was stunned. This was the keepsake that represented his bond with his 'brother.'
He looked at Kagami and saw nothing but seriousness and resolve in his eyes.
"Please."
"The past I shared with Tatsuya, and the future I'll share with you all—I've already decided which one matters more."
"We're going to beat Yōsen—so I can challenge Tendou again!"
His tone was firm. His eyes, unwavering.
Tendou's overwhelming strength had haunted him like a nightmare all summer.
To defeat Yōsen, to overcome his nightmare—he had to go all out.
Even if it meant setting aside his bond with Himuro Tatsuya for now.
"…I understand."
Kuroko took the necklace and said nothing more.
...
Then, the second half began.
Yōsen adjusted their strategy based on Seirin's first-half performance.
Their playstyle had grown more mature compared to the Winter Cup. Their chemistry was on another level.
Murasakibara in particular was starting to show signs of becoming a true leader. He was learning to connect the team.
"His footwork and post moves have improved too. He's really starting to look like David Robinson."
Tendou couldn't help but admire it. Murasakibara's talent was exceptional.
He was especially similar to David Robinson, one of the NBA's four great centers from back in the day.
As an interior player, Robinson had terrifying athleticism.
He was the only player in NBA history to record a quadruple-double with over 30 points.
Murasakibara was clearly heading down the same path.
And Yōsen gave him the perfect environment to grow. If he kept this up, by the time he graduated high school, he'd become a big man with elite court vision and freakish physical gifts.
Yōsen's adjustments caught Seirin completely off guard, and the point gap quickly stretched into double digits.
But Seirin wasn't done.
They countered with a full-court press.
This tactic was a nightmare for any team without a top-tier point guard.
One slip-up, and the ball handler was guaranteed to turn it over.
But Seirin had a hidden weapon: a shadow.
"This is our new defensive strategy—designed to fully maximize Kuroko's ability to intercept passes. It's called: Full-Court Press of the Steal."
Tendou winced at the name.
Still…
"Whatever. This is the same naming genius who called a step-back jumper the 'Inviolable Shot.'"
Aida Riko's naming sense always made you want to curl your toes.
"Full-Court Press of the Steal," "Inviolable Shot," "Eagle Claw," "Right to Shoot Last"—those were all her masterpieces.
But silly name or not, Seirin's adjustment worked.
Yōsen couldn't track Kuroko.
He slipped through the gaps in the defense, disrupting Yōsen's offense again and again.
If they passed—intercepted.
If they hesitated—still intercepted.
Kuroko became the busiest man on the court. Thanks to his hustle, Seirin finally launched a series of fast breaks and cut the lead back to single digits.
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