Kaijo vs. Rakuzan – Match Day
"Get up already, Dai-chan!"
Momoi yanked the blanket off Aomine, pouting. "It's the finals today! Kaijo vs. Rakuzan!"
Aomine cracked one eye open, glanced at her, then shoved himself deeper into the blanket.
"What's that got to do with me? If I'm not the one stepping on that court, what's the point of watching? Just thinking about it pisses me off."
Seeing Aomine curled up like a professional slacker, Momoi rolled her eyes and marched off toward the bathroom.
...
"Eh? You actually came to watch? Now this is rare."
Takao stared at Midorima in shock. The whole Shutoku team had shown up to witness who'd take home the championship trophy this year.
Adjusting his glasses, Midorima answered,
"Cancer's horoscope today said it's lucky to watch a game with friends."
Takao jabbed without mercy.
"Yeah, sure... Translation: 'I just really wanted to watch.' Just admit it, tsundere."
Midorima: "..."
...
"Oi, where's Kuroko and Kagami? Those two freshmen are really pushing it, huh? Making their senpai wait?"
Hyuga crossed his arms, fingers tapping impatiently. The bus was almost at the stadium, and those two clowns were still missing.
"Sorry… huff... I'm late... huff..."
Kagami came running at full speed, still catching his breath. Stayed up too late practicing, as usual.
"Where's Kuroko? Didn't you come together?" asked Riko, tilting her head.
"I've been here for a while now."
A monotone voice came from right behind her, nearly scaring everyone out of their shoes.
Izuki blinked, recovered, then immediately roasted him. "Yeah right, you literally just got here."
Kurkoo froze. Caught in 4K by the Eagle Eye.
...
"Whoa... the finals really are something else. Look at this crowd!"
Kota clicked his tongue as he glanced around while warming up. Never played in front of this many people before.
Kise, on the other hand, looked completely unfazed. He'd been used to the spotlight ever since middle school with the Miracle Generation.
The rest of Kaijo wasn't fazed either. As one of the top basketball powerhouses, most had experienced the spotlight—except for the freshmen. Only Kise and Kota made the starting lineup this year.
"Guess it's just me being dramatic" Kota chuckled to himself.
Just then, a basketball rolled to his feet. He picked it up, about to toss it back... then paused.
Standing in front of him was none other than Akashi.
Akashi walked over, took the ball from Kota's hands, but instead of leaving, stood there silently staring him down.
Kota stiffened. Yep. Pressure. But hey, no way he was going to back down. He stared right back like nothing was wrong.
"You taught Kuroko his new trick, didn't you?"
Akashi's voice was cold, straight to the point. Kota frowned but didn't answer.
Not that it mattered. Akashi continued like it was already fact.
"You do realize... you're ruining him."
The way Akashi said it made the hairs on Kota's arms stand up. Calm, but somehow threatening.
Kota grinned, cocking his head.
"Oh? So just 'cause someone's invisible on the court, they're not allowed to score now? Sounds kinda discriminatory."
He even shot a glance toward Mayuzumi, Rakuzan's own invisible player, who was warming up nearby.
Akashi's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing more. He turned and walked away.
Kota watched him leave and raised an eyebrow. Of course, he remembered that in the story, Kuroko's new scoring ability made him more noticeable, changing his role. But hey, not his problem. Kuroko asked for the help, and whether or not it changed him wasn't Kota's responsibility.
Besides... man, the so-called Miracle Generation sure is weirdly obsessed with Kuroko. Even Akashi acts like a worried mom.
"Before we begin, let's introduce both teams!"
A rich voice echoed from the speakers. Finals really are something else—they even hired a proper announcer.
"First up, wearing blue... Kaijo High!"
The crowd erupted into cheers. As a veteran basketball powerhouse, Kaijo was a big name nationwide.
"Coach: Takeuchi."
Hearing his name, Takeuchi stood and waved. The man was dressed sharp today—clean-shaven, hair gelled to perfection. Was it the finals? Or was it because Araki was in the stands? Maybe both.
"And now, the starting lineup!"
"Number 4, Captain Kasamatsu."
Reliable as always, Kasamatsu stood up and gave the audience a slight nod. His popularity was... surprisingly high. Especially among the guys. No one's really sure why.
"Number 2, Kota."
Kota copied Kasamatsu's greeting. He felt a bit nervous—never played in front of this many people. Coincidentally, Number 2 was also his old jersey number.
As Kaijo's playmaker, Kota was well-known. Solid fundamentals, clean team play, and beautiful ball movement had won him lots of fans. Especially after that one magazine dubbed him the "Vibe Master of the Court," his popularity was actually creeping up to Kasamatsu's level.
"Number 10, Hayakawa."
"LET'S GOOOO!"
Hayakawa jumped to his feet with both hands raised, hyped as ever. His fans were... mostly middle-aged dudes, probably because his over-the-top passion was weirdly infectious.
Kasamatsu twitched. Watching Hayakawa hop around like a caffeinated gorilla, he seriously wanted to punt him across the gym. Kota grabbed him by the arm.
"Chill, bro. Finals. Finals."
"Number 8, Kobori."
A polite sprinkle of applause. Poor Hayakawa — solid player but basically invisible unless you were a hardcore Kaijo fan.
"Number 7, Kise."
A SCREAMING WALL OF SOUND.
Girls waved homemade banners like it was a pop concert. Some had literal glowsticks.
Kise waved back, blowing kisses, which made the crowd go nuts again.
Kasamatsu's temple throbbed.
"How long is that idiot gonna wave...?" He clenched his fists, ready to launch a dropkick, but Kota pulled him back again.
"Bro. Finals. Calm."
"And now, wearing white... Rakuzan High!"
"Coach: Eiji Shirogane"
A silver-haired, super-stylish middle-aged man stood and nodded toward the crowd. Kota sneaked a glance at his own coach.
"Huh. Guess some coaches do have fashion sense."
"Now for the starting lineup."
"Number 8, Nebuya."
A tank of a man with dark skin and a grown-man face. He flexed at the crowd like a bodybuilder, drawing plenty of cheers.
"One of the Uncrowned Kings... the Herculean Strength"
"Number 7, Hayama."
Leaning into the mic, the announcer added, "
A lightning-fast guard with a signature... tiger fang smile."
Kid had yellow-brown hair and a single sharp canine poking out.
"Another Uncrowned King... The Thunder Beast."
"Number 6, Mibuchi."
Tall, lean, and... a little too into hair flips.
"The third Uncrowned King... The Yasha."
Despite the slightly... fabulous vibe, Mibuchi actually had a surprisingly huge fanbase. The cheers for him were louder than for the last two combined. He gave a flirty little wave and flipped his hair again.
"Number 5, Mayuzumi."
Rakuzan's knock-off Kuroko. Same ghost-like presence, similar face... just taller.
Kise gasped.
"Dang, this dude's like... an XL Kuroko! Same vibes, but honestly... Kuroko's cuter when he's smaller."
When Mayuzumi walked out, half the crowd went,
"Who?"
A few seconds later, most forgot he existed entirely. But no worries—the main act was about to enter.
"Number 4, Captain Akashi."
Short. Red hair. Probably Kuroko's height... but with the aura of a 7-foot mafia boss. Stone-faced, but somehow that made the half-smile on his lips even scarier.
The crowd went berserk. His cheers were almost as loud as Kise's. Kota noticed a particular section of fans—young women holding signs screaming "Mommy loves you, Akashi!"
Akashi ignored it all like it was white noise. Either his resting face filter was on max, or he genuinely didn't care.
He slowly walked over to Kota, looked him dead in the eyes, and said,
"Enjoy how light your body feels now. Because soon... it's going to feel very... very heavy."
He even glanced down at Kota's legs like he was calculating exactly how to ankle-break him into the floor.
Kota put his hands on his hips, smirking.
"Oh, sorry. Didn't realize toddlers were allowed to play with scissors. Careful now, Akashi. Someone might get hurt."
Kise blinked.
"Wait... do they know each other?"
But before he could ask, the ref blew the whistle.
"Players, get ready for tip-off."
BEEP—