Even a clay figure has a temper.
If it had been Tendou in Seirin's place, he would've already thrown hands with Hanamiya.
But Seirin held back.
They gritted their teeth, determined to defeat Hanamiya fair and square, to win with dignity and get justice for Kiyoshi Teppei—
Even while Hanamiya taunted them to their faces.
As for Tendou—
After catching Hanamiya's pass, he dished it to Yamazaki Hiroshi, who calmly sank a mid-range jumper.
Aida Riko was no longer worried about her team's morale.
Thanks to Hanamiya's antics, every Seirin player was now pissed off and fired up.
Seirin's run-and-gun strategy had been neutralized.
They had no choice but to slow down and match Kirisaki Daiichi in a half-court battle.
Against a fast-paced team like Seirin, the best counter was to slow the game down—
Fewer possessions, lower tempo.
And Seirin clearly wasn't comfortable with this grind-it-out style.
Kirisaki Daiichi's dirty players were constantly pestering them, making it hard to settle into rhythm.
They always managed to sneak in some subtle, nasty moves when the refs weren't looking, breaking Seirin's momentum.
With the shot clock running out, Kuroko stepped up once again.
The Kirisaki Daiichi defenders watched helplessly as the ball—originally heading for Kagami—suddenly curved and zipped into the paint.
Mitobe Rinnosuke, always silent but reliable, turned and banked the ball in.
4:2
"Tch, another one of those freak passes," Hara Kazuya muttered, frustrated.
Even though they'd already focused their defense on Kuroko's man, they still couldn't stop his unpredictable passing.
"That teammate of yours is pretty amazing, huh, Atsushi?" Himuro Tatsuya's gaze was intense, locked on Kuroko.
On the screen, Kuroko's presence seemed obvious.
But on the actual court, it was hard to even notice him.
When Murasakibara first told Himuro about Kuroko, it sounded like nonsense.
The court's not that big—how can someone go unnoticed?
But seeing it for himself…
Kuroko really did move like a shadow, lurking in corners and crevices, waiting to strike with passes that turned the tide.
"No matter how amazing he is…
It won't matter against Tendou," Murasakibara said flatly.
"Huh? What do you mean? Why won't it matter?"
"Tendou's eyes… they can see everything."
His eyes?
Was it just dynamic vision? Or something else entirely?
Murasakibara didn't elaborate.
He turned into a cryptic riddler, stopped mid-sentence, and went back to snacking—completely ignoring his teammates' curiosity.
Transition.
Tendou slowed the pace again.
Hanamiya followed suit, dribbling up the court at a crawl while pondering how to set up the next play.
Slowing down the offense wasn't just about wasting time.
It was about maximizing shooting efficiency and denying the opponent fast-break chances.
But the next second—
A blur of blue shot out from his right.
With a single slap, the ball was knocked loose.
"Nani?!"
Hanamiya was stunned.
He had just been taunting Seirin from the bench a moment ago.
And now someone had silently slipped up beside him and picked his pocket?
"You little…"
Only now did he realize—Kuroko had crept up completely unnoticed.
"A presence this faint… is this guy a ghost?"
Hanamiya's grin twisted into a sour scowl.
He was the kind of person who snapped the moment something didn't go according to plan.
"Nice one, Kuroko!" Aida Riko leapt to her feet, pumping her fist.
She had been struggling to figure out how to break Kirisaki Daiichi's slow tempo.
Basketball was like this—if your team's playstyle relied on speed, then to win, you had to drag the opponent into your rhythm.
Once players adapted to a specific tempo, they'd instinctively gravitate toward it.
And eventually, they'd only perform at their best under those conditions.
That was the core of tactical basketball.
The smartest coaches could always keep their teams operating at their optimal rhythm.
Stars, of course, were exceptions—they could adapt to anything.
Swish!
Izuki Shun secured the loose ball, and Seirin launched a fast break.
But instead of forcing it to Kagami—who was being completely shut down by Tendou—
Izuki passed to his long-time partner, Hyūga Junpei.
Seirin's captain caught it clean and fired a quick-release shot over Yamazaki's defense—
Three points.
4:5 — Seirin had taken the lead.
That was the hallmark of a fast-paced team:
They gave up points quickly, but they scored even faster.
Kirisaki Daiichi had opened the game with a 4:0 run, and now, in the blink of an eye, Seirin had turned it around.
"You can't relax for a second. Seirin didn't beat Shūtoku by luck."
"Seriously, what a pain... all these freaks from the Generation of Miracles!"
Imayoshi Shōichi narrowed his eyes, watching from the stands.
But he didn't look too upset—if anything, he seemed amused watching his underclassman Hanamiya fume in frustration.
"We'll defeat you, Tendou-kun. I mean it."
After helping Seirin take the lead, Kuroko faced Tendou again.
He didn't think for a second that this would be enough to win.
But he wanted Tendou to take the game seriously.
If they couldn't defeat Tendou, there was no way they could defeat Kirisaki Daiichi.
Tendou just patted him on the shoulder, silent.
That casual gesture pissed off every Seirin player.
It felt like he could win whenever he wanted—like he didn't even see them as worthy opponents.
Buzz—
Ten minutes flew by quickly.
Neither team had called a timeout during the first quarter.
The pace had been intense.
The score: 25–22, with Kirisaki Daiichi leading by 3.
On the bench, Seirin's players quickly grabbed water, gulping it down.
The physical brawl with Kirisaki Daiichi had drained them.
They were sweating heavily—more than in any other match, even against Tōō Academy.
Riko frowned.
This level of exertion… she'd never seen it before, not even in their toughest matches.
She thought back over the first quarter—
Her players had been locked in physical combat the entire time.
The sheer physical toll was massive.
"But… conditions are equal," she reminded herself. "If we're exhausted, so are they.
The second half will come down to willpower."
But first, they had to survive the second quarter at this brutal pace.
And for that, they'd need Kuroko's abilities.
"Kuroko, how much longer can you hold out?"
"Roughly another ten minutes," Kuroko answered honestly.
Don't be fooled by the close score—
It was only because of Kuroko's incredible activity in the first quarter.
Despite Kirisaki Daiichi's disruptive tactics, Kuroko had stepped up again and again, pulling the team out of crisis.
But the more he played, the more visible he became.
His vanishing presence was starting to wear off.
"Ten minutes… that's a problem."
Riko's frown deepened. She asked, half-confirming:
"One more time, Kuroko—does Tendou know how your misdirection works?"
"He knows," Kuroko replied, his expression turning serious.
"My misdirection… the entire development and refinement process—he helped me create it."
"…I knew it. He…"
"Wait, what?"
"You're saying… Tendou helped you develop your misdirection?!"
Seirin was floored.
If that were true, it didn't just mean Tendou understood the time limit of Kuroko's misdirection—
It might mean he knew weaknesses even they didn't.