After finishing their first match, the members of Kirisaki Daiichi didn't linger—they headed straight back to school. They had another match scheduled for the following day.
Notably, before their game, Seirin had a match lined up.
Their opponent? Shinkyou Academy—the same team that Kirisaki Daiichi had elbowed into existential crisis.
Seirin had taken this matchup seriously. According to the intel they gathered, Shinkyou had recruited a foreign exchange student this year and had crushed their opponents in multiple practice matches.
The center stood at 2 meters tall, and his athleticism was reportedly off the charts.
Within Seirin's lineup, no one could really match up physically.
When the match started, Seirin realized something was off.
Shinkyou's players looked nervous.
Gone was the dominance they'd shown in those practice blowouts.
During a timeout, the Seirin players looked at each other in confusion.
"This is completely different from what we heard."
"Did they really crush teams in practice?"
Hyuuga Junpei was starting to think maybe they'd overprepared.
Or… had Seirin really gotten that much stronger?
"No, the intel was accurate. Two of their three practice matches were blowouts. Their performance was amazing."
"What about the third match?"
"The third match… was against Kirisaki Daiichi."
Hearing that name, Hyuuga immediately had a bad feeling.
"They reportedly lost that match—badly."
"But I didn't expect that kind of 'badly.' They look like they've lost the will to fight."
That was the key. The loss wasn't just physical—it had crushed them emotionally.
They looked utterly demoralized. It wasn't like a regular loss—it was like they'd completely given up.
Most teams, regardless of actual skill, still dream of making nationals. That ambition drives them forward.
But Shinkyou didn't have that spark anymore—they looked like they were just going through the motions.
When the match resumed, Shinkyou's captain gave Seirin an answer.
He turned to Hyuuga and said: Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs novel·fire·net
"Give up. As long as that monster is out there, no one else has a chance."
He was still haunted by the image of Papa Mbaye Siki kneeling in front of Tendou Kageyoshi.
Another one mentally broken.
Not even mentally broken—completely defeated.
Viewers watching the broadcast were getting fired up.
They desperately wanted to see the Kirisaki Daiichi vs. Shinkyou practice match—the one that had left Shinkyou in this state.
But the production team didn't deliver that footage.
Instead, the camera cut to Seirin's locker room at halftime.
Seirin had secured a solid lead, but the atmosphere was heavy.
They were realizing: defeating Kise didn't mean they were ready to take the championship.
The remaining three Miracle Generation members in Tokyo—Aomine, Midorima, and Tendou—were in a completely different league.
The image the anime used to express this was striking:
Tendou appeared like a god atop Mount Olympus, casting a shadow over Seirin's tiny, sword-wielding mortals.
Even without playing, Tendou's presence alone exerted pressure.
In the real world, viewers—especially new fans—were drawn to this mysterious leader of the Miracle Generation.
They were dying to know more.
When Seirin eventually beat Shinkyou, there was no joy.
They knew the path ahead would only get harder.
Afterward, they made their way to the stands to watch Kirisaki Daiichi's next match.
But once again—Tendou didn't play.
He acted as coach from the bench, directing his team to yet another clean win.
He turned to the audience and gave Seirin a smile, pushing his sunglasses up before walking off with his team.
The message was clear: "We're not even trying yet."
The tournament organizers were clever.
They had split the three Miracle Generation teams into different groups, ensuring they wouldn't meet until the round-robin stage.
This gave the teams time to build momentum—and drama.
And then—on Day 4—the tournament's biggest upset happened.
After a grueling 40-minute war, Seirin beat reigning champions Shutoku by two points.
Kuroko landed a game-winning steal, disrupting Midorima's final shot.
Seirin had defeated Shutoku. They had beaten a Miracle Generation member.
"This is the power of teamwork!"
"We can win nationals!"
Coach Riko wept with joy.
Seirin's spirits were soaring again.
The shadow of Tendou's pressure, which had loomed over them since the beginning, was momentarily gone.
Watching this from afar, Hanamiya Makoto looked disgusted.
He sneered at the sportsmanship and mutual praise between Seirin and Shutoku.
"What a load of crap," he muttered.
"This 'teamwork' nonsense is going to make me puke."
"Laugh all you want now—because you won't be laughing soon."
"The real monster… is coming."
He glanced sideways at Tendou.
That guy had barely moved an inch the entire match.
Sitting on the bench, chin in hand, with a faint smile—
"It's like he's at a circus, watching animals perform…"
Hanamiya turned away, feeling a strange mix of pity and anticipation.
He didn't like Tendou.
But he didn't hate him either.
He was even willing to help him—if it meant watching the illusion of "teamwork" be utterly, ruthlessly destroyed.