The triangle offense doesn't need much introduction.
It made Jordan. It made Shaq. It made Kobe.
The triangle offense usually involves three players forming a triangle on one side of the court—hence the name.
There are countless variations—low-post isolation, pick-and-roll actions, and more.
It all depends on whether your core is a perimeter or interior player.
The strategy centers around passing the ball so that every player gets touches, forcing the defense to remain honest and preventing them from simply collapsing on your star.
As long as the rest of the team poses a threat, opponents are forced to adjust.
And that's when the core player gets opportunities for one-on-one isolation.
To master this new system quickly, the Teikō team had been training hard from dawn till dusk lately.
Fortunately, their progress was impressive—because they had three basketball IQ monsters on their team:
Akashi Seijūrō, Nijimura Shūzō, and Tendou Kageyoshi.
These three grasped the triangle offense's principles almost immediately, and under their guidance, the rest of the team quickly integrated into the system.
Honestly? With this lineup, running the triangle offense almost felt excessive.
In Tendou's words: "We've got the best player at every position. What do we need tactics for? Just let loose and go wild."
But reality proved that Shirogane Kōzō was right.
As they grew more comfortable with the triangle, Teikō's offensive efficiency took a major leap.
Once the system had taken root, Shirogane scheduled three scrimmages.
The results were stellar: Aomine, Akashi, Midorima, Murasakibara, and Nijimura all delivered. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ ⓝovelFire.net
Even Tendou, despite his reduced time as the primary ball handler, actually increased his scoring average by 5.5 points per game.
His shot volume stayed about the same—but his efficiency went way up.
Tendou started missing the days in the qualifiers when he was pulling up for open jumpers while double-teamed.
The triangle offense gave him far more opportunities to go one-on-one.
Usually, all it took was a pick-and-roll with Nijimura, a timely cut or pass—and by the time the ball came back to him, only one defender was left.
Those defenders who used to double-team him?
They were either chasing Nijimura or stuck guarding Midorima in the corner.
All Tendou had to do was beat a single man and he'd either get a clean jumper or a direct path to the rim.
Even worse for defenders: Tendou wasn't just a finisher like Jordan or Kobe.
He could pass, he had vision, and he had basketball IQ.
Even if a help defender made a quick recovery, Tendou could fire off a pass to the open man before they even got there.
Three straight scrimmages. All blowouts.
The new offense's destructive power had everyone pleasantly surprised.
But Shirogane's joy didn't stop there.
Now that the qualifiers were over, Kuroko's training was complete.
When Tendou brought Kuroko to the training facility and had him participate in a scrimmage—
Aside from stumbling the moment he stepped on the court—his play stunned everyone.
His passes seemed to curve mysteriously in midair. Teikō's players were left dumbfounded.
Even Murasakibara, the reaction freak, couldn't keep up with Tendou's off-ball cuts. By the time he realized what was happening, Tendou had already gotten his shot off.
Shirogane Kōzō was so excited he nearly shouted out loud.
After coaching Teikō for so long, now he finally understood what it meant to have a loaded roster.
He couldn't wait for Nationals to begin.
Practice over, a bunch of sweaty teens stretched and yawned as they walked out of school.
"We're already this good—do we really need to train this hard?" Murasakibara grumbled, munching on snacks.
He hated the feeling of sweat sticking to his skin—wet and clingy, like a slime monster.
"What nonsense are you talking about, Murasakibara?"
"Nationals is coming up. Of course we need to be fully prepared."
Midorima started spouting his "do your best, then let fate decide" basketball philosophy again.
"Tch. Easy for you to say. All you do is stand at the arc waiting for a pass—just like an old man…"
"That's more nonsense. The three-point shot is the sharpest weapon in basketball. You can smash the rim all you want—it still only gets you two points."
He shot a look at Tendou, as if saying, You understand me, right?
"That's why your basketball is so boring," Aomine scoffed. "You gotta play with passion! Just standing there chucking threes—what's the fun in that?"
"If I've got a chance to dunk, of course I'm going for it!"
"So cool, right, Tendou?"
"…Huh? Sure, whatever. If you say it's right, then it's right."
Tendou stepped into a convenience store, tore open an ice cream bar, and bit down.
Instantly, a chill spread through his body. The fatigue from training vanished.
"As long as we score, as long as we win—two points, three points, doesn't matter."
"So long as we outscore them, that's enough."
"Skipping straight to the answer like that takes all the meaning out of the process," Akashi chimed in.
"Oh? And what's your brilliant insight, then?"
"My brilliant insight is: I agree with you."
The boys all gave him a collective side-eye and chose not to argue further.
They'd had this debate way too many times lately—no one was convincing anyone.
Midorima would never step inside the paint if he could help it, as if allergic to the key. Aomine would never go for a layup if he could dunk—as if the rim owed him money.
Murasakibara… well, he was happy as long as he had snacks.
He was the second person to grab an ice cream—after seeing Tendou eat one, he forgot all about arguing with Midorima.
He knew he wasn't qualified to even join this debate. He was still that guy who could throw up an airball from under the basket.
Sometimes Kuroko really wondered: how did his mom give birth to someone this "talented"…?
From a distance, a puff of pink hair came rushing toward them.
It was Momoi Satsuki, just returning from another day of intelligence gathering.
Seeing everyone already eating, with no one waiting for her, she puffed up her cheeks in frustration.
The Teikō boys… simply ignored her.
The chat went wild—these steel-hearted straight guys were killing the audience.
Only Kuroko, sensing he'd struck gold, tried to offer her his ice cream as a peace offering.
But before he could act, Riko stepped in and took the ice cream herself.
"Of course we didn't forget about you, Satsuki! Don't pay attention to those stink-faced boys—they'll never understand how much effort you put in."
Riko had a soft spot for Momoi.
She thought: if I ever had a little sister, someone like her would be great.
"Riko!!" Momoi cried, and launched herself into a full-on meatball hug.
As she felt the squeeze at her chest, Riko looked a little embarrassed.
Even in her prime, she'd never been this… gifted.
She glanced down at her own modest figure and wanted to cover her face in shame.
It was then she noticed a certain lewd, unwholesome gaze.
It was none other than Tendou Kageyoshi—always teasing her.
He said nothing. Just made a single gesture:
God, she wanted to beat this bastard to death.
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