Kirisaki Daiichi leads Seirin 62 to 40, a crushing 22-point difference.
Seirin, a team known for its fast-paced run-and-gun style, had only managed 40 points in the first half.
In contrast, Kirisaki Daiichi had racked up over 60, largely off defense-to-offense transitions.
Based on that trajectory, they were projected to easily surpass 120 points by game's end—
A stark contrast to their performance in the group stages.
And what changed everything?
Their coach stopped pretending—and finally took the court.
Tendou played 16 minutes in the first half, putting up a scorching 31 points, 3 rebounds, 6 assists, 3 steals, and 2 blocks.
Nearly half the team's total points were his, with 16 of them coming off fast breaks.
"Offense goes through Tendou. Defense—leave it to the rest."
Kirisaki Daiichi had evolved into a terrifying team.
"Man, they've really turned into a monster team," muttered Imayoshi Shōichi, watching from the stands. "Everyone, pay close attention."
At first glance, the combo made no sense—
The noble, commanding captain of the Generation of Miracles paired with the infamous bad boys of Kirisaki Daiichi.
But the chemistry they produced on the court?
It was like Tendou saw through all the chaos and forged the perfect combination out of it.
In Seirin's locker room, the mood was grim.
Especially after they started stripping off their jerseys.
Looking at each other, they could see the bruises and welts.
"Kirisaki Daiichi's players are just animals…"
A new player couldn't help but complain, criticizing their dirty, violent play.
"Compared to last year? This is them being gentle."
Hyūga Junpei's tone was bitter. But what else could they do?
The refs had clearly decided to let things go—
And in this era, physicality was sadly common.
If anything, they were lucky.
If not for Tendou's presence, Seirin might have already suffered injuries.
At least for now, the team could still continue playing.
"This isn't going to work much longer."
A 22-point deficit wasn't impossible to overcome—
But it was a mountain.
Especially when that guy was still on the court.
Aida Riko muttered the name again—for who knows how many times now.
He felt like a mountain standing in their path—
Unclimbable. Unshakeable.
Just then, Kuroko suddenly stood up.
"Coach, let me go in for the second half."
"But your Misdirection…"
"It's fine. I've rested enough."
He couldn't ignore the state of the team any longer.
Izuki—their point guard, their brains—had been completely overwhelmed by Hanamiya.
Their team offense had crumbled.
As for one-on-one battles? Kagami was no match for Tendou. Their scoring had become pure luck.
If this continued, the gap would only grow wider.
Riko looked at Kuroko, hesitated… and then nodded.
Right now, all they could do was believe in Kuroko.
Believe that he could once again create a miracle.
Kirisaki Daiichi starts with possession.
Tendou immediately threads the ball into the paint—
It sails cleanly through three defenders and lands in Seto Kentarō's hands.
"Can't relax for even a second," Seto muttered.
A second's delay and you'd miss Tendou's passes completely.
He spun, only to find Kagami had already recovered from the three-point line.
"This guy doesn't get tired?! He's been running the whole damn game!"
Seto didn't hesitate—he leaned his back in, subtly stepping on Kagami's shoe, preventing him from jumping.
Then, using a classic hook shot, he scored.
Kagami clenched his fists.
He was getting stronger—he knew it.
He could compete now with elite-level opponents.
But this match made him feel weaker than ever.
Back on offense, Izuki once again scanned for an opening.
He spotted Seto shifting slightly—just enough to create an opening.
He immediately rifled a pass toward Hyūga.
Hanamiya smiled wide and lunged in.
The ball was intercepted… but not by Hanamiya.
It was caught by a single hand, cleanly and decisively.
"This guy…" Hanamiya gritted his teeth audibly.
"He broke it. As expected from Kurokocchi!"
Kise's eyes sparkled with excitement.
To break through Kirisaki Daiichi's spiderweb of traps—
To disrupt Hanamiya's 100% steal rate—
"Don't forget they're our opponents, dumbass."
Kasamatsu elbowed Kise in the ribs, hissing under his breath.
But even he silently acknowledged it—
That play was incredible.
This wasn't something you could just "decide" to do.
You had to perfectly read your teammate's passing tendencies,
Reverse-engineer Hanamiya's trap,
Then make a snap judgment to intercept before Hanamiya could act.
"It's still Tendou who decides the outcome of this game."
At last, Akashi spoke.
Just then, under the watchful eye of his Emperor Eye, a white blur streaked across the court.
The ball was snatched clean from Kuroko's hands.
The glimmer of hope Seirin had just lit—
snuffed out instantly.
Kuroko opened his mouth, wanting to stop it—
Tendou was already gone.
Like a comet, he shot across the court.
And once again, Kagami was the first to give chase.
His heart was burning with frustration.
Aomine… Tendou… Hara Kazuya…
Their words echoed in his head—telling him over and over:
In his heart, he accepted it.
He wasn't as strong as Tendou.
But his body moved anyway. Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn NoveI-Fire.ɴet
Running from a fight? Not his style.
But reality was cruel.
As Tendou's gaze shifted, he had already predicted Kagami's next move.
Every future step was visible through the Six Eyes.
"Forcing body contact… trying to pressure me…"
Tendou accelerated, getting in close.
He pounded the ball, weaving it with lightning-fast crossovers.
In a flash, he got half a body ahead of Kagami.
He thought about everything—
The dirty tricks from Kirisaki Daiichi,
His teammates' bruises in the locker room...
And in front of all of Seirin, in front of Kuroko—
"Consider this payback!"
He simply raised his arm and blocked the elbow cleanly.
The ref's whistle exploded.
This wasn't one of Kirisaki Daiichi's signature covert fouls.
Kagami didn't have the finesse.
He didn't have teammates blocking the ref's sight.
His dirty move was on full display for everyone to see.
"Seirin #10—Technical Foul!"
Today's ref might've been lenient—
But even he couldn't ignore a blatant, deliberate elbow.
Kagami didn't protest.
He just stood there, stunned,
Staring at his own "Kagami Elbow" in disbelief.