"Masako-san, we've arrived. Be careful not to bump your head when getting out!"
The police squad leader sitting in the driver's seat respectfully addressed the woman in the back.
Araki said nothing. She just stared quietly out the window at a familiar building — the Japan Basketball Association HQ.
Time passed. She still hadn't moved. The squad leader didn't dare to say anything, only stealing a glance at her through the rearview mirror. She was blankly staring at her phone.
The silence lingered awkwardly. Just when the driver was starting to panic from the tension, Araki finally spoke.
"Turn around. Take me to Shark Gym."
"Yes, ma'am!!"
The squad leader immediately straightened up, started the engine again, but couldn't help feeling confused.
"Shark Gym? That's nowhere near here. What's the lady up to now?"
Of course, these were thoughts he wouldn't dare voice aloud.
Araki leaned on the car door with one hand under her cheek, the other holding her phone. On the screen was a contact number — someone high up in the basketball association, a long-time family friend of the clan.
If she dialed that number, Kota would be guaranteed a spot on the national youth team. Anyone with half a brain and two eyes watching Kaijo's matches could see the current evaluation from the selectors was nonsense.
At the gym earlier, Araki had been determined to prove Kota's strength. But now, sitting here, staring at that familiar building, hesitation set in.
Memories long buried began to rise.
Her own pro basketball career held few fond memories. She was constantly overlooked due to her lack of physical gifts, and even after proving her skills, she never earned the recognition she deserved.
"Is making it to the national youth team... really the right path?"
She muttered, resting her forehead on the glass. Her bangs shadowed her eyes as she slowly lowered her phone.
"Let me know when we get there."
"Yes, ma'am. Please rest easy!"
The squad leader kept his eyes firmly on the road, adjusting his driving to be as smooth as possible. After a while, he peeked at the mirror and noticed Araki seemed to have dozed off. He let out a breath of relief.
"…Never mind. Turn back. Take me to the gym."
"..."
"Is there a problem?"
"No! No problem at all!"
...
By the time Araki returned to the stadium, the third quarter had already ended. Luckily, she was just in time — the fourth was about to begin.
One glance at the scoreboard surprised her.
76-72. Kaijo was still ahead, but the gap had narrowed to just four points.
Araki raised an eyebrow. Clearly, something interesting had happened while she was gone.
Looking around, as expected, no open seats. With no other option, she found a decent spot to stand and watch.
On Kaijo's bench, Kota scowled at the Seirin players huddled together in a cheer circle.
Ever since the third quarter, Seirin had entered a state of flawless unity. Kota finally understood how Rakuzan had lost. Akashi couldn't carry the weight alone.
Their playstyle was like one person controlling five bodies—mind-sync levels of coordination that honestly didn't feel human. Despite both Kota and Kise playing at full power, Seirin matched their offensive output without breaking a sweat.
Human bodies have limits. No matter how long teammates have played together, there's a cap to their understanding. Even twins can't fully predict each other without literal telepathy.
But Seirin? They somehow pulled it off.
Any small lapse in Kaijo's defense, and Seirin would pull off a perfectly synchronized, almost absurd offensive play. Kaijo could barely react.
And on defense, it got worse. Kota and Kise's iso plays were usually deadly, but Seirin's double teams forced passes—and in this freakish mode, Kuroko was reading passing lanes and intercepting with terrifying accuracy.
Kota could still avoid most of them thanks to his "danger sense", but Kise got cooked—two straight passes picked off, leading to easy Seirin buckets. Now, Kise was too shaken to even attempt another pass.
Kaijo's scoring remained efficient, but the toll on stamina was brutal. Seirin, on the other hand, benefited from their shared effort. With the exception of Kuroko, who was visibly running low, the rest still looked strong.
"This isn't working… We'll lose like this."
Kota glanced at the scoreboard, then turned and smacked Kise on the back of the head, interrupting his Zone activation.
He threw an arm around his shoulders.
"Hey, genius—forget the Zone. At this point, don't leave it to fate. Leave it to yourself!"
Kota looked Kise in the eye, serious for once.
"Toss aside the seagulls or whatever. Right now, your only job is to lead us to victory. That's what it means to be the Ace."
Talent activated
As the familiar mechanical voice echoed in his head, Kota relaxed. Of course, the true final boss skill is... talking people into greatness.
Sure enough, it worked. Kise's breathing steadied, his tense expression easing.
"Geez, Kota… You're pretty good at this whole pep talk thing."
Kise chuckled, poking Kota in the ribs.
"Please, I've got more than just pep talks up my sleeve."
Kota glanced at his skill panel. "Fourth Quarter King" was waiting silently for its moment.
BEEP!
The whistle blew. The fourth quarter had begun.
"Let's go win that championship trophy."
...
Seirin's starters remained on the court. Even Kuroko, gasping for breath, dug deep. They had worked all game for this comeback, and they weren't going to waste it.
Izuki took the inbounds pass and brought it up. Kota didn't press. He lacked the energy, and truthfully, Seirin was in a state where mistakes were rare.
Izuki didn't even need to call plays anymore. One look was enough to get his thoughts across.
Kagami moved up for a high screen. His size made for a strong pick.
Kota called out, "Switch! Switch!" but Kise, rotating over, got blocked by Kiyoshi.
Izuki's eyes flashed as he passed left toward Hyuga—except it was a fake!
Kuroko, already waiting at the perfect angle, redirected the pass midair to Kagami, who'd cut into the paint. Kagami exploded upward and hammered in a dunk.
Seirin scored two more!
The crowd went wild. Roars echoed through the stadium.
Now, most of the cheers were going Seirin's way.
Fans love witnessing history, especially when it's an upset. Watching last year's champs fall? Instant classic.
Kota watched Seirin's unity in silent frustration. Were they born in the same womb or something?
This is beyond Zone. This is insanity.
"…Shit."
He cursed under his breath, took the inbound pass, and licked his lips.
Fourth Quarter King
Zone
He casually dribbled across half court, signaled a fake play, then rose up from way downtown—midcourt.
In Izuki's shocked stare, the shot sailed… and splashed in. Nothing but net.
In the corner of the stands, Midorima — wearing a mask, secretly watching — nearly fell out of his seat.
"A three… like THAT?!"
As a long-range shooter himself, Midorima was stunned.
"Why didn't I ever try that? Why didn't I think of that?!"
For a moment, his eyes sparkled. A new path had opened.
The crowd lost it. Even neutral fans who'd been cheering for Seirin flipped sides instantly.
Kota raised his hand to his ear, milking the moment.
Celebration Boost
Without even registering the notification, he reset his stance. Seirin was coming again.
Another dizzying round of ball movement.
As an NBA coach once said, seven solid passes in an offensive possession guarantees a shot.
Seirin proved the point.
Kiyoshi threw a no-look overhead pass to Hyuga at the arc.
Step-back three.
Pure swish.
Answer ball.
79-77. Kaijo up by just two.
In the crowd, Aomine frowned.
"This is gonna be close. Kaijo's in trouble. At this rate… Seirin's gonna win."
Murasakibara didn't comment. He glanced at the game clock. He was getting hungry.
Beside them, Akashi sat upright, eyes glinting. After a moment, he smirked.
"I see it now… Kise will be the X-factor."
Both Aomine and Murasakibara turned to look.
On the court, Kota fought through traffic and scored another tough layup. Kise flexed his wrist.
"Enough, Kota… I'm the Ace of Kaijo."