108 to 61.
That was the final score.
"Seirin has become quite a formidable team," Iwamura Tsutomu and his teammates remarked.
It was somewhat bittersweet. The competition in the Tokyo region was about to become fiercer than ever—a true battleground of rising powers. But for the third-years of Seihō, their time had run out.
Next year, they would be heading off to university. With a national championship under their belts, they were sure to receive recruitment offers from good schools. If they could also claim the Winter Cup and achieve the grand slam, they might even catch the attention of powerhouse programs.
Meanwhile, on another court.
Shūtoku faced off against their opponent.
The King of the East had returned in dominant fashion, exploding for an incredible 151 points while crushing their opponent by 102. It was as if they were trying to prove a point to everyone—that the Inter-High had been nothing but a fluke.
Still, no one was underestimating them just because they'd been eliminated early. After all, they'd lost to Seihō—the team that ultimately became the Inter-High champions.
But what surprised everyone was this:
On the first day of competition, the largest point differential didn't belong to Shūtoku. It belonged to Kirisaki Daiichi.
They had erupted for 180 points while holding their opponent under 50.
Their game, however, was plagued with incidents as usual. Three of their opponent's five starters had to leave the court due to injuries, unable to finish the game.
Then there was Tōō Academy.
Aomine Daiki didn't even show up until the second half—he'd overslept again.
Yet he still managed to dominate with his absurd individual ability, efficiently dropping 47 points in just one half to lead his team to a 110-point victory.
Based on the bracket, Kirisaki Daiichi and Shūtoku would likely advance to the round-robin stage without issue.
As for Seirin and Tōō? That outcome was far less certain.
"They ended up in the same group? Talk about bad luck."
"Bad luck for who? Tōō or Seirin?"
"Both, probably."
The Seihō players studied the bracket.
Barring any surprises, Seirin and Tōō would meet in the group finals, with only two spots advancing to the round-robin stage.
And just as the fans had hoped, that matchup came soon enough.
...
The day arrived.
The final day of the Winter Cup group stage.
The other three groups had already determined their winners. Shūtoku, Kirisaki Daiichi, and another school no one had heard of had punched their tickets to the Final Four.
Now, all that remained was for Seirin and Tōō to settle their score and decide the final two teams from the Tokyo region.
"You're so slow, Yuuto! You're the one who said we should come watch!"
The game was already at halftime.
Sora jogged into the arena, still complaining at Yuuto.
They'd arrived late. The stands were packed with enthusiastic fans, so they'd had to settle for seats in the upper deck.
"You're the one who was being too picky."
Yuuto stood with his hands in his pockets, wearing the Seihō school uniform.
Though calling it a uniform was generous—it could easily pass for a tailored suit or smart casual wear. A white dress shirt as the base, a black and red tie around his neck, gray pants and jacket, with a cherry blossom emblem on the chest symbolizing Seihō's school spirit.
Such was the uniform of the prestigious Seihō High School's Tokyo campus.
Sora wore the same color scheme, though she'd opted for a short skirt with white knee-high socks hugging her long, slender legs. She turned heads the moment she walked in.
Yuuto, however, remained unfazed. After all, he'd already seen everything those socks had to offer.
"See? We got here at just the right time."
The game had reached halftime. The score was 61 to 51, with Tōō holding a 10-point lead.
"A 10-point gap... Tōō really is stronger, huh."
Sora glanced at the scoreboard, unsurprised. Deep down, she'd always believed Tōō and Aomine were the stronger team.
Anyone who could defeat the Generation of Miracles had her respect!
"Not necessarily. A game lasts forty minutes."
"You think Seirin can win?"
"I don't know. But it won't end this easily."
He genuinely didn't know.
After their match against Seihō and that second defeat, Yuuto couldn't be certain whether the current Seirin could beat Tōō.
But one thing was certain—Seirin wouldn't go down without a fight.
That team had heart.
"Unfortunately, Seirin's chances are slim at this point."
Akashi Seijuro had appeared beside them.
"Oh, it's you—that rich young master." Sora turned to see Akashi, with Hayama Kotaro and two others trailing behind him like bodyguards.
"We hit some traffic coming from Kyoto. We meet again, Yuuto."
"Yeah. Good to see you, Akashi." Yuuto wasn't surprised. Rakuzan didn't have to play in the qualifiers, after all.
They could rest all the way until the knockout rounds began.
After exchanging brief greetings, Hayama Kotaro spoke up. "Akashi, what do you mean Seirin's chances are slim?"
"Misdirection."
He uttered those key words.
"Although Seirin's point guard is second-year Izuki Shun, the team's true metronome is Kuroko. And right now... everyone in the arena has noticed him."
"This is the limit of misdirection. It can't be sustained for a full forty-minute game. Kuroko has reached his limit."
Akashi's words carried the weight of a judge's gavel—absolute and final.
The Rakuzan players believed him without question. If Akashi said Seirin would lose, then Seirin would most likely lose.
But Yuuto said, "Not necessarily."
Akashi turned to look at him, saying nothing, but his eyes asked: "What insight do you have?"
"Kuroko is definitely Seirin's metronome, and his misdirection has certainly reached its limit. Right now, he's less useful on the court than a traffic cone."
"And his misdirection won't recover before this game ends."
"Then why—"
"You awakened Kuroko's misdirection, but the true limit hasn't arrived yet."
"What do you mean?"
Akashi's interest was piqued.
He had recognized the ceiling of misdirection early on. Back in middle school, he'd judged that Kuroko's style of basketball couldn't win on its own—it needed a "light" to exist.
That was why he'd been so careful with Mayuzumi Chihiro, only developing the Vanishing Drive and nothing more.
"What goes up must come down."
Yuuto offered his own key phrase.
Not something he'd observed with his eyes—but something he remembered from watching the anime in his previous life.
"What goes up must come down..." Akashi savored those words. A moment later, his pupils dilated as if he'd grasped something. "You mean..."
While the two talked, the situation on the court shifted dramatically. What had seemed like a one-sided affair began to change.
Just when everyone thought Seirin was finished and Kuroko could no longer help them—
He revealed his newest "magic trick."
Under everyone's watchful eyes.
Izuki Shun had the ball, facing Imayoshi Shoichi.
Tōō's captain had been giving Izuki a master class all game, causing massive problems for the entire Seirin squad.
But this time—
Izuki blew right past Imayoshi with ease.
"The Vanishing Drive?!" Hayama's jaw dropped. "Isn't that Kuroko's signature move? How can he—"
Everyone was stunned. The play was simply too shocking.
"What just happened?"
The Tōō players looked bewildered, completely lost—including Harasawa Katsunori on the bench.
...
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