Swish!
A crisp net snap echoed across the court.
Kota sank the shot — but the gym was dead silent. No cheers. No gasps. Nothing.
Even the young referee looked like someone had unplugged his brain. Whistle in hand, mouth half-open, completely lost.
The head ref, no stranger to crazy plays, looked just as stunned.
"Was that... a foul?"
Everyone in the gym had the same thought, even Coach Takeuchi.
Kota blinked, confused. Why's nobody reacting? I just nailed a clutch shot! And the ref? He blew the whistle, sure, but didn't say a word. Not even a hand signal!
"Did I get called for a shot clock violation or something?"
He turned to Kagami, scratching his head.
"No… no, the clock was fine... And the shot went in... Wait a sec—DID YOU JUST TRAVEL?!"
Kagami suddenly snapped out of his daze, replaying the move over and over in his head like a glitched DVD.
The head ref casually wandered over, trying to eavesdrop.
"Huh? Travel? Bro, where? I gathered, then jumped and shot. Sideways jump, big deal. Ever heard of avoiding a block?"
Kota looked genuinely offended—like someone had just told him water was dry.
Kagami tried to explain, but words failed. It was weird, sure—but technically? He couldn't pin down anything illegal.
So he did what any confused player would do: stared desperately at the head ref.
The ref, in turn: Don't look at me, man! I'm just as lost as you!
Kota sighed, grabbed a ball, and demonstrated.
"See? I gather the ball here, jump to the side, and shoot. That's just how you dodge a block. What's the problem?"
He looked so confident that even the ref scratched his chin and said,
"...Let's just... watch the replay."
Suddenly, everyone—Seirin, Kaijo, even the camera crew—rushed to the monitor like it was Black Friday at Best Buy.
Seirin wanted proof it was a travel. Kaijo was praying it wasn't — because if it wasn't, that meant the dagger was good.
On screen, it was just like Kota said: he sidestepped to dodge Kagami's block and let it fly. It looked a little unnatural, mostly because no one in Japan had ever pulled something like this in an actual game.
The head ref squinted at the footage, dragging the clip back and forth like he was editing a YouTube video.
"Hmm... I'm not seeing a travel. So… is that a clean bucket?"
He mumbled, confused. And this was a guy who hadn't said maybe in a game call for over a decade.
Kaijo's bench lit up like Christmas. They might not be rulebook nerds, but as long as the shot counted, who cares?
Seirin panicked. Riko grabbed the ref's arm like it was a lifeline.
"Please double-check! Maybe it's not a travel, but could it be something else?! Like… like illegal teleportation?!"
The team nodded in desperate agreement. If that shot counted, they had only six seconds to erase a five-point gap. Good luck with that.
The ref was sweating now. That play—just two points—could decide the entire Winter Cup.
"Hold on. Lemme check again."
He pulled out glasses from who-knows-where and went full VAR mode.
Kota, watching from the side, was sweating too. Thank God I didn't use the "Soma Step." That move's always a gamble. But the "Up-and-Under"? Can't argue with that—it's legit in any rulebook.
Everyone held their breath.
"I've been reffing games for decades" the ref finally muttered, pulling off his glasses, "and I've never seen an offensive move like that."
Seirin's bench started to celebrate early — but the ref wasn't done.
"But... no matter how I look at it, it's 100% legal."
Whistle. Point counts.
Silence. Then, BOOM. The crowd erupted like it was a playoff buzzer-beater.
Kota had just drained a nearly game-winning shot with 30 seconds left, extending Kaijo's lead to five.
Seirin's faces went pale. The game technically wasn't over, but six seconds to erase five points? That was a wrap.
As per the Law of Conservation of Smiles — when one team cries, the other grins harder.
"KOTA!!"
Kise, running on fumes, launched himself into Kota like a missile. Kota, already exhausted, crumbled under him.
"GET OFF ME! Game's not over yet!!"
His muffled voice came from under the human golden retriever.
Kaijo's bench chuckled. Sure, the clock still ticked—but the W was already in the bag.
Seirin inbounded quickly and got the ball to Hyuuga, who chucked a desperation three... no dice.
Buzzer. Confetti. Applause. It was over.
Final score: 98–93. Kaijo wins the Winter Cup.
Kaijo fans—and even neutrals—stood up and screamed Kota's name. He might not have been the ace or top scorer, but in that moment? He was the guy.
Kota, drained and limp on the bench, could barely lift a hand. But hearing the chants, he smiled.
Okay… not gonna lie. This feeling's kinda awesome.
"Hey! Where are you guys taking me?!"
"WAIT—DON'T! I'M AFRAID OF HEIGHTS!!!"
Too late. Kaijo's bench mob hoisted Kota into the air like a ragdoll. Up he went, flailing and screaming while they laughed.
Kise, sitting nearby, watched with envy. He wanted in—but his body had fully clocked out.
Everyone collapsed onto the bench, totally spent. 40 minutes of intense play had fried them inside and out.
But that post-win exhaustion? Totally worth it.
Even Seirin, despite losing, got a standing ovation for their effort.
Still, as Kaijo celebrated, Seirin's players couldn't hide the regret.
"So close… just a little more..."
Kagami clenched his fist, eyes glued to Kota still getting yeeted skyward.
"That move... I'm gonna study it until I perfect it—and next time, we're taking you down!"
Winners get the cheers. Losers get the motivation.
After a short rest, Seirin disappeared down the tunnel, leaving the stage to Kaijo.
The trophy rolled out.
Everyone instinctively looked at Kota. Kise even gave him a playful shove toward it.
Kota glanced back at his teammates — grinning faces everywhere, even Takeuchi, striking a pose for the cameras.
"C'mon, man! Let's wrap this up—I'm drenched and need a shower."
Kasamatsu barked.
The rest of the squad chimed in too, cheering Kota on to lift the trophy.
"Kota, please don't do the scissors pose again. It was so lame last time."
Kise winked, teasing.
Kota grinned.
"You kidding? Scissors pose is the soul of group pics!"
He lifted the trophy high overhead. His smile was unstoppable now.
*Yeah… this is the kind of thing you wanna experience every year. No—every season!
The cameras clicked. Takeuchi strolled over, hands behind his back, proud as ever.
Everyone else struck poses—but this time, aside from Kota in the center with the trophy...
They all threw up a scissors pose.
The announcer's voice returned, smooth as butter.
"Let's give it up for Kaijo High School, winners of this year's Winter Cup!"
"Haha! I did the Interhigh too—Kaijo again! Guess I'm officially a fan now."
"Thank you all for watching. We hope the game was as fun for you as it was for us!"
"And with that… the Winter Cup has officially come to a close!"
...
Post-game. Kaijo Locker Room.
Kota grabbed his phone and tried calling Araki.
No answer.
He frowned.
"Weird. With who she is, she shouldn't be in trouble... That cop earlier practically worshipped her."
"Something's off…"
He was still deep in thought when Takeuchi suddenly slapped him on the shoulder, nearly sending him into orbit.
Kota yelped and quickly flipped his phone facedown.
Takeuchi raised an eyebrow. "Whoa—got yourself a girlfriend, Kota?"
Kota froze. His face said absolutely not, but his body language said caught in 4K.
Takeuchi got the hint.
"Heh. I gotcha. Don't worry—your secret's safe with me."
He paused, then added:
"Oh, and clean yourself up. You're coming with me to the post-game interview."