The first quarter quickly came to an end.
Neither team had called a timeout, allowing the game to flow continuously, even though Shūtoku now trailed Kirisaki Daiichi 27-21.
Nakatani Masaaki knew very well that Shūtoku's deficit wasn't due to their tactics or preparations. Rather, it was simply a gap in individual skill levels.
Under Kirisaki Daiichi's intense defense, Shūtoku had still managed a 53% field goal percentage this quarter—actually quite respectable, especially considering last year's performance without Midorima hovered around the same figure.
In other words, Shūtoku was still performing at their normal level against the defending national champions.
But it wasn't enough—because Kirisaki Daiichi had shot over 70%.
Haizaki alone had scored 16 points on 7-for-9 shooting, including two three-pointers, completely dominating on offense. Aside from Midorima, no player in Shūtoku's lineup could match Haizaki's capabilities.
As for Tendou, although he only had 4 points, he already amassed 8 assists in just the first quarter, contributing to over 20 of Kirisaki Daiichi's 27 points.
In stark contrast, Midorima's stat line remained empty—no points, no assists, no rebounds—proof that Coach Nakatani's strategy to use Midorima as bait against Tendou had completely failed.
Realizing this, Nakatani had no choice but to implement his second plan.
"Midorima, get ready! From next quarter onward, we're relying on you!"
Midorima nodded decisively, and his teammates followed suit with determined expressions.
"What strategy are you preparing?"
Meanwhile, Tendou had a useful habit during timeouts—checking the anime for hints about his opponents' upcoming tactics. This time, however, the production team was keeping their cards hidden, giving no indication of Shūtoku's next move.
"Guess I'll look forward to seeing what you've prepared."
...
The short interval between quarters quickly ended.
All ten players returned to the court, unchanged. At this knockout stage, unless there was a massive lead, most teams chose to let their starters play the entire game.
Kirisaki Daiichi had possession first. Right off the bat, assisted by Tendou, Haizaki effortlessly scored again.
Haizaki's Pillage ability wasn't as versatile as Kise's Perfect Copy, but against lower-level players, it was brutally effective. Whatever you used, he'd take it—and once he used it, you'd lose it completely. It was an absurdly powerful skill.
Miyaji Kiyoshi had received Haizaki's special attention today. Every technique Miyaji excelled at—drives, layups, mid-range jumpers—had all been systematically pillaged.
At this rate, Miyaji might forget how to even play basketball.
Yet, Miyaji had no regrets. Shūtoku's basketball philosophy of relentless perseverance had long been engraved into his very DNA.
He wasn't naturally gifted. In his freshman year, Miyaji didn't even make Shūtoku's main roster. But thanks to his excellent academic performance, he finished his homework early and used the extra time to train tirelessly. By his second year, his efforts earned him a key bench position. Unsatisfied, he pushed even harder, eventually becoming a starter by his final year.
Players like him were truly unstoppable!
Possession changed to Shūtoku.
This time, Midorima didn't linger on the periphery. For the first time in the game, he actively integrated himself into Shūtoku's offensive rhythm.
"What's your plan this time?"
Tendou's eyes closely tracked every Shūtoku player's movement, instantly calculating each player's possible future paths in his mind.
Under his watchful gaze, the entire Shūtoku team burst into synchronized motion, quickly converging around Midorima.
After a brief glance exchanged with Takao, Midorima ran swiftly past him to take the ball. Known primarily for his shooting, Midorima instead started dribbling aggressively—directly challenging Tendou's defense.
"Midorima wants to isolate against Tendou?" someone gasped incredulously.
True, Midorima had shown great individual skill against Seirin, but that was Seirin. Now, he faced Tendou—someone who had shut down Aomine, Akashi, and had never lost a one-on-one matchup.
"Are they seriously planning to have Midorima challenge Tendou alone?"
"Of course not—we at Shūtoku play with five people!" Nakatani shouted internally.
In the next instant, just as Midorima accelerated, Miyaji Kiyoshi immediately closed in, firmly blocking Tendou with both hands clearly raised to screen him off.
It wasn't enough—Tendou spun around and smoothly evaded Miyaji.
But right when everyone thought the play had failed, Takao swiftly charged in to set another screen, followed closely by Kimura and Ōtsubo.
"Continuous screens?!" The fans were shocked. What exactly was Shūtoku planning?
They were devoting their entire team just to give Midorima a single chance to shoot!
Was it worth it?
Absolutely.
Shūtoku's actions loudly affirmed their resolve.
Unlimited screens? More like unlimited pick-and-rolls. After setting screens, Shūtoku's players immediately dispersed, dragging Kirisaki Daiichi's defenders away and maintaining spacing.
Tendou quietly admired Shūtoku's determination. This wasn't ordinary pick-and-roll basketball—it was an entire team desperately creating a shooting chance for one player.
Every time someone tried to block Midorima, another Shūtoku player would appear, screening away the threat instantly. It was a genuine team effort aimed solely at securing Midorima an open shot.
Was the outcome of this play truly decided solely between Midorima and Tendou?
Not quite.
Tendou leaned forward slightly, building tension in his muscles, preparing himself.
Midorima, meanwhile, carefully navigated through his teammates' endless screens, cautiously searching for a brief opening to shoot. He had to remain vigilant of Tendou's Six Eyes, needing absolute certainty he was clear before releasing the ball.
Thoughts raced through Midorima's mind:
His senior teammates—
Miyaji Kiyoshi, a genius at hard work, had started from nothing, not even making the roster initially, spending three entire years battling to become a starter.
Kimura Shinsuke, whose family ran a fruit shop, had limited free time but always found creative ways to train—he would even run deliveries as strength training.
Ōtsubo Taisuke, their captain, often strict and stubborn, was still someone who'd wake up early to buy Midorima's lucky items, a dependable senior who always had his back.
And Takao Kazunari… well, Midorima would rather not think about that reckless guy right now.
At this moment, Midorima's only desire was to shoot the ball into that damned hoop—the shot opportunity that his entire team had painstakingly created for him.
Thump!
As the basketball landed securely back in his grasp, Midorima didn't hesitate at all. He jumped instantly, prepared to release his shot—
But precisely at this moment, Tendou's voice, clear and decisive, echoed ominously:
"Thunderclap Flash!"
"Quadruple!"
The second his voice fell silent, Tendou transformed into a bolt of white lightning. His speed was terrifying—sending chills down everyone's spine. Before the four Shūtoku players could even turn their heads, Tendou completed four rapid directional changes.
Bang!
Tendou's foot struck the court hard, generating so much momentum that he skidded slightly as he stopped.
"Almost lost track of you there, Midorima," Tendou remarked, eyes glowing brightly like gems—but their dazzling brilliance made Midorima shiver.
"Impossible!" Nakatani shot up from his seat in shock.
What had he just witnessed?
Tendou Kageyoshi, in a single breath, had executed four instantaneous directional changes, weaving impossibly through Shūtoku's carefully constructed screens to catch up with Midorima!