It wasn't just the game on the court that had fans buzzing—the drama in the stands made sure no one left disappointed.
Security staff were currently trying to calm down Araki, who, for some reason, was holding a katana to someone's neck. They tried to reason with her while maintaining a standoffish posture, but honestly, none of them looked too concerned. After all, Araki just looked like a beautiful, delicate young woman. Sure, she was waving a sword around, but apart from that? Nothing special.
Besides, the police were on their way. Compared to a terrorist attack or something equally catastrophic, this was practically a coffee break.
Only one person was on the verge of collapse—the poor soul currently at the mercy of Araki's katana. Others might underestimate Araki, but he knew exactly who she was. If terrorists were bad news, she was their final boss.
The only daughter of a top-tier yakuza boss, Araki didn't just have wealth—she had real power. Her family's influence in Japan was almost on par with the imperial family. Add to that the infamous rumors from when she played for the national team, and he had zero doubts: she could totally kill him right here and now without blinking.
Police? Please. In Japan, the cops were more like extras in a comedy sketch. If Araki did get brought to the station, they'd probably serve her tea and politely ask how she'd like her charges "taken care of".
Meanwhile, back on the court, Kota noticed the commotion in the crowd. He glanced toward the stands and froze, his eyes locking on the chaos.
"Wait a minute… was that Miss Masako? With a sword? Against someone… familiar? What was happening?!"
Kota shook his head and squinted.
Yep. That was definitely Araki. She was surrounded by security, calmly holding a katana across some guy's neck. Kota pinched himself, genuinely wondering if he'd dozed off and started dreaming.
This scene? Straight out of an action movie. Or maybe one of those fever dreams you get after eating expired sushi.
His dazed expression didn't go unnoticed. Soon, his teammates followed his gaze and saw the chaos for themselves.
The referee, clearly done pretending not to care, blew his whistle for a public timeout. He'd been dying to know what was going on in the stands but had to maintain professional integrity. Now that everyone was distracted? Perfect time to grab some popcorn.
"Is this your idea, or is this coming from the Basketball Association?" Araki asked coldly, her patience wearing thin. She tightened her grip on the katana.
The youth team player visibly trembled. In that instant, he imagined his own head rolling on the ground like a soccer ball. Blood and all.
He started bawling.
"It was the Association! I swear! President Kinoshita said he didn't like Kota's athletic potential! I was jealous! I was wrong! I'm a piece of trash! Please don't kill me, Masako-san! I beg you!"
Snot and tears flew. He almost got them on the katana.
Araki recoiled and kicked him square in the chest, sending him flying. Her face twisted in disgust.
The security guards blinked. Was this the first time a hostage had been voluntarily launched away by the "criminal?"
Still, credit to their training: two guards immediately dragged the sniveling wreck out of the way while the others squared up, police batons ready.
Right on cue, the police burst into the arena, wearing body armor and holding batons. The lead officer scanned the scene, locked onto Araki, and signaled his team.
Araki heard them coming and turned around slowly.
"You are surrounded! Surrender peacefully, and—Masako-san?!"
The lead officer nearly dropped his baton. His voice cracked like a teenager's.
His subordinates didn't get the memo. One over-eager rookie tried to rush in, but the captain smacked him upside the head.
From the court, Kota saw it all and smirked. As expected, with Araki's background, she could basically do whatever she wanted.
Not just a rich girl—she was a boss.
Elsewhere in the arena, three members of the Generation of Miracles exchanged stunned glances. Aomine leaned toward Murasakibara.
"Hey, isn't that your team's coach? Is she gonna be okay?"
Murasakibara casually popped the last chip from his snack bag into his mouth.
"She'll be fine. Even if we're not."
Akashi rubbed his chin thoughtfully, saying nothing. He knew about the Araki family's connections to the underworld. While their resources couldn't quite rival the Akashi financial empire, they weren't far off.
To regular people? They were like dragons.
The lead cop was now drenched in sweat. He regretted every life decision that brought him here.
The rookie piped up again:
"Captain, why did you hit me? Oh wait—I get it! I didn't follow your hand signal, right? Got it! Just say the word and I'll take her down!"
Smack.
Another whack to the head.
Just as the captain opened his mouth to explain, Araki walked up, completely ignoring the police.
"Drive me."
She didn't even look back.
The captain snapped to attention and saluted like a trained soldier.
"Yes, ma'am! Be careful on the steps, Masako-san!"
The crowd was dumbfounded. This was not the police drama ending they expected. Weren't the cops supposed to save the hostage and arrest the villain?
Meanwhile, the former hostage had already broken free of the security guards and was sprinting for his life. He had no faith in the cops and fully intended to hide before Araki's temper reignited. Otherwise, Japan might have one more mystery body floating in the Shinano River tonight.
With the chaos now exiting stage left, the audience returned to their seats. Basketball was still happening, after all.
The ref blew the whistle and motioned players back into position. Seirin had possession.
Kota rested his hands on his knees, watching Izuki dribble across half-court. But he couldn't shake the image of Araki wielding that katana.
Izuki noticed Kota spacing out and decided not to pass. Instead, he went one-on-one. Kota was caught off guard and got beat—Izuki nailed a mid-range jumper.
Two more points for Seirin.
There were six minutes left in the third quarter. Kaijo had kept up aggressive offense early in the quarter, but Seirin had weathered the storm. The score tightened:
69-55.
"Kota, you okay?" Kise walked over, concerned. He knew Kota and Araki were close. It made sense he'd be rattled.
"I'm fine" Kota replied, touching his nose as if wiping away distractions.
The only goal now: win the game.
But of course, nothing ever goes smoothly.
Next play, Kagami bulldozed through the defense, passed through Kiyoshi, and posterized Kise.
Momentum swung.
Kota immediately sensed the shift. Seirin's team chemistry clicked into overdrive. Every pass, every move—they were in sync like dancers in a perfect routine.
"This is gonna be a problem..."
He watched helplessly as Hyuuga faked a three and dished a no-look alley-oop to Kagami. That wasn't standard shooting guard behavior.
Seirin had officially entered "The Zone."
"Well, no point avoiding it."
Kota closed his eyes and exhaled. When he opened them again, white lightning flickered across his irises.
He'd been running in the Zone for most of the game, but the pace was starting to wear him down. Still, now was the time to burn every drop of fuel left.
Behind him, Kise threw his head back and groaned. Then his body shimmered with golden light.
"Ugh, I'm dead. I already got three fouls. My body and brain are fried."
Despite the complaints, Kise's eyes sparkled.
This was it.
No fun if you're just bullying the other side. He wanted to feel the challenge.
"Alright, let's see what this 'five hearts, one mind' thing is really about!"