"Seirin!"
"Let's go!!"
…
"Kaijō!"
"Defend the title!!"
The timeout had just ended, and both benches were already heating up the atmosphere.
Hearing the difference in cheers, Kota nodded with satisfaction. "Defend the title" sounded way more intimidating than a simple "Let's go!"
As both teams rose to head back to the court, Kise quietly tugged at Kota's jersey.
"Hey, Kota…"
Huh?
Kota turned back, confused. Why was Kise whispering at a time like this?
"…I might not last five full minutes."
Kise rubbed his hands awkwardly, a nervous expression on his face.
Back on the bench, he'd said that to boost morale. In truth, using both the Zone and Perfect Copy together consumed an insane amount of stamina. Even in the original series, Kise barely held out five minutes under better conditions—and he wasn't in top form now.
"Not even five? Then how long can you hold out?" Kota frowned. In this situation, every extra minute Kise could push himself mattered. One minute less, and Jōrin had one more chance to make a comeback.
Kise scratched his chin.
"Four minutes… maybe?"
Kota said nothing, just stared at him.
"…Okay, three. Three for real this time!"
"I swear! This time I'm not bluffing!"
After confirming again, Kota bit his lip and glanced at the scoreboard.
88–83. Kaijō up by five. Seven minutes left.
If Kise goes all-out and exits in three minutes, could Seirin break Kaijō afterward?
From the scoring spree near the end of the third quarter, they'd cut a 15-point lead down to four in just six minutes. Meaning: if Kaijō doesn't keep the lead near 10 before Kise checks out...
It's gonna be tight.
"Damn it…"
Kota cursed under his breath. His head throbbed again. Playing in this game felt like it was literally draining his life.
"Genius... Just do everything you can before you're subbed out."
Kota wiped his face with both hands. Iizuki was already dribbling up the court.
"After that, leave it to me."
…
Up in the stands, Araki scanned the area. Once she confirmed that scout had left, she focused back on the game, but her mind remained uneasy.
If she pulled strings with a high-up in the Basketball Association, Kota would definitely make the youth team. But deep down, she didn't want him to go down that path. Her impression of that organization was... not exactly glowing.
If she didn't pull those strings and just let things play out naturally, even if Kaijō won the championship, Kota might still end up just like her.
Japan's basketball association always chased raw talent. What? Not even 190cm tall? Here's your bench spot — be grateful. What more do you want, a bike? National champion? Great, now go sit closer to the water cooler.
"Damn it…"
She swore quietly. Maybe she shouldn't have peeked into that notebook. Would've saved a lot of trouble.
Then again, was it really her fault? If that idiot hadn't reacted so dramatically, she never would've opened it in the first place!
"Completely useless... can't even mess things up properly." People like that deserve to be dumped in the Shinano River.
Her face darkened as her thoughts spiraled. Suddenly, a commotion broke out on the court. She snapped out of it and saw — Takeuchi yelling at the ref?!
...
"Do you even know how to ref?! Double foul?! If you can't blow the damn whistle right, I'll do it! This kind of reffing is why Japanese basketball's a joke!"
Takeuchi, usually calm and composed, was red-faced and furious. He stormed right up to the referee, practically spitting on him with each word.
The ref, a young guy, clearly wasn't used to being screamed at like this. He froze, helpless as Takeuchi vented.
Technically, refs can eject anyone. But ejecting the head coach of the title favorites at the end of the finals? He'd get ripped apart by Kaijō fans.
And it wasn't just Takeuchi—fans in the stands began shouting too, demanding a reversal.
Here's what happened: Kota had disrupted Iizuki's pass. Unfortunately, he couldn't hold onto the ball. It bounced toward Kagami. Kise saw the opportunity, mimicked Aomine's acceleration, and raced Kagami for the loose ball. Both dove for it. The ref blew the whistle — double foul.
(Basketball tip: A double foul means both players committed a foul simultaneously. Each is given a personal foul. If it's during a free throw, you do a jump ball. If one team has possession, they simply re-inbound the ball.)
Under normal conditions, that call wouldn't be a big deal. Diving for the ball usually does end in double fouls. But in this context? That was Kise's fourth foul. One more, and he's out.
That's why Takeuchi lost it. With the game on the line, your ace one foul away from disqualification? It's a nightmare.
Just as Takeuchi caught his breath to start yelling again, the lead referee walked over—an older, more experienced guy.
He calmed Takeuchi down and pulled up the replay. Kise and Kagami both diving, both going for the ball. Clear as day.
Takeuchi scowled, ready to argue again, but Kota jumped in and dragged him back.
That poor ref was on the verge of tears. If they pissed off the lead official now and got a technical? What a way to throw the finals. Besides, leaving a bad impression on the refs could only backfire.
Kise was bent over, hands on knees. He wasn't even mad about the fourth foul. The refs weren't targeting him, and honestly, at this point, he was about to be subbed out anyway. Three fouls, four fouls—didn't really matter.
"Well... Might as well contribute one last time before I'm done."
He walked to center court, eyes locked on Kagami, and took a deep breath. His whole aura shifted.
Perfect Copy: Kagami's Zone Mode!
Across from him, Kagami flinched. For a second, it felt like he was staring into a mirror. It was... unsettling.
The lead ref raised his hand. Whistle blew. Ball went up.
Kise crouched slightly, eyes locked on the ball. Just as it reached its peak—BOOM! He exploded upward.
Kagami wasn't far behind. Both of them soared to the same height. Their hands hit the ball at the same time—stalemate.
But Kise's eyes flicked subtly. His trump card? He wasn't playing alone.
He shifted his palm at the last moment, using Kagami's force to redirect the ball—right into Kasamatsu's hands!
Without hesitation, the former point guard threw a long pass to Kota, who was already deep in the paint.
Off the glass. Easy two.
"Yoshaaa!! Nice one, Kise!!"
"Kasamatsu-senpai, that pass was clean!"
"Hey Kota! You're right there—why not dunk it?!"
That smooth transition lit up the Kaijō bench, though some grumbled at Kota's "boring" layup.
"What do you think this is, a dunk contest?! My stamina's not free, idiots!"
Kota shot a middle finger at the bench mob. It's not that he couldn't dunk — he just didn't feel like wasting the energy. Dunking was cool, sure, but unnecessary right now.
"Doesn't matter how—just stop this next possession!"
Standing at the top of the arc, Kota stared down the advancing Jōrin players.
Judging by that jump ball, Kise was at his limit. If he had more gas, he wouldn't have needed tricks. With his personality, mimicking Murasakibara and brute-forcing the rebound would've been more his style.
Four minutes left. 94–87. Kaijō leads.
It was the exact moment Kise said he'd start running out of steam—and the score still wasn't where Kota needed it to be. They had to defend this next possession while he was still on the court.
"Don't panic! Take it slow!"
Iizuki shouted from the wing, but tension filled his voice. They were behind seven with four minutes left. Both teams were nervous now.
A few passes later, they found a hole in Kaijō's defense. Kiyoshi caught it inside again. Kagami moved in to help. Under the basket: Koganei and Kise. Two-on-two!
Kiyoshi jumped to shoot, eyes scanning. Kobori leapt to block — he'd been outplayed all game, but he didn't want to be a liability in the finals.
Kiyoshi wasn't fazed. His massive hands allowed a mid-air pass right behind—straight to Kagami.
"Not over yet!"
Kise's eyes sharpened. He burned the last of his strength chasing Kagami down.
Huh? Did I just hit something?
Kise stumbled mid-run. His balance collapsed—like he'd hit a wall. He fell hard.
Kagami, caught off guard, dropped the ball and ran over to help... Kuroko?!
"Sorry, Kise-kun. Don't call me dirty, okay?"
Kuroko lay on the floor, panting. He was already at his physical limit. Just standing was impossible now.
The ref finally blew the whistle. Takeuchi tried to protest again, but it was no use.
"Kaijō #7: Fouled out."
Kagami helped Kuroko up, but looked at the fallen Kise with a flicker of regret. In this final stretch, losing that guy? It just didn't feel right.
Kobori and Hayakawa rushed over and helped Kise to the bench.
Kise and Kuroko were both out.
94–87. Kaijō leads. 3:30 left.