Kuroko no Basket: Honored One

20:18 — Rakuzan led by just two points.

Kirisaki Daiichi's players returned to the bench and glanced at the scoreboard. Something about it felt unfamiliar.

"This might be the first time this year we've actually trailed in a game, right?"

"Huh? Really? I didn't even notice."

"Well, even so, exchanging that guy for just a two-point lead… totally worth it."

Right now, Hara Kazuya could see Mayuzumi Chihiro clearly.

What should have been twenty minutes of misdirection was compressed to just under two.

They had never played a game like this before—but then again, neither had Rakuzan.

Though the scoreboard showed them ahead, the cost had been immense: they had burned through a secret weapon.

Akashi sat in silence on the bench.

The team had achieved the lead he wanted—but it was nowhere near what he had expected.

In his mind, sacrificing Mayuzumi should have been enough to build a double-digit lead.

But in the end, they had scraped out a mere two-point advantage.

Still, Akashi didn't waste time mourning what was already done.

"For the second quarter, we'll play at our normal rhythm."

All of Rakuzan nodded in acknowledgment.

Watching Mayuzumi rack up points in the first quarter had already made them restless.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Tendou gave instructions on the Kirisaki Daiichi bench almost simultaneously.

"Stick to your marks. Rakuzan's Uncrowned Kings… they're yours."

"As for Akashi… I'll deal with him myself."

The troublesome one had already been dealt with. Now, it was time to take the lead.

The second quarter began quickly.

Neither team made significant changes—Kirisaki Daiichi kept the same lineup, and Rakuzan only swapped out Mayuzumi.

At this level of the national tournament, no one wanted to miss the chance to win. They would grit their teeth and fight to the end.

Rakuzan had possession. Akashi dribbled the ball past half court.

Once again, he faced Tendou directly, and his Emperor Eye opened wide.

From the center of his vision, a golden ring rapidly expanded outward, fully enveloping Tendou.

In that moment, Tendou's every movement was laid bare before him:

His breathing, heartbeat, even the subtle shifts beneath his skin.

Akashi launched an assault. His dribble wasn't as explosive as Tendou's, but it was unshakably solid—the ball seemed glued to his palm.

Tendou, meanwhile, was also watching Akashi—predicting his actions through entirely different means.

Not by heartbeats or sweat—but by reading Akashi's body data, habits, and favored movements.

Different methods—same result.

"Even Akashi can't get past him?" muttered Shirogane Eiji, frowning from the bench.

Ten seconds of the shot clock had already burned away, and Akashi still hadn't shaken free.

Tendou had locked him down so tightly, Akashi hadn't even stepped inside the three-point arc.

Since he couldn't break through, he made a decision—not to try.

Akashi abruptly stepped back, drawing Tendou out with him, beyond the arc.

Then, without hesitation, he passed the ball to Reo Mibuchi.

"Passing it off already? What happened to that pride of yours, Akashi?" Tendou taunted.

But Akashi wasn't fazed. He shot back coldly:

"Court vision is part of individual skill. If basketball were just endless one-on-ones, then it's no different than locking two wild beasts in a cage for a brawl."

He remained calm and collected, sticking to his rhythm and beliefs.

Neither of them wanted to lose—neither on the court, nor in the mind.

And the spectators could only watch in awe. It was clear now why these two had led their teams all the way to the finals.

Talent, technique, mentality—on every level, they were elite.

"So, without that Sixth Man, what now?" Tendou pressed again. "You going to fight data with brute force?"

Akashi didn't respond this time.

He had done everything he could: lured Tendou outside the arc, giving his Uncrowned Kings the space to operate.

If they still couldn't break through Momoi Satsuki's data analysis, then it meant they were no more useful than Mayuzumi had been.

Reo Mibuchi rose up for a shot the moment he caught the ball.

He understood exactly how much Akashi wanted this win—more accurately, wanted to beat Tendou.

If he let that trust down, he knew Akashi wouldn't hesitate to bench him either.

Yamazaki Hiroshi immediately closed in to contest the shot.

He wasn't worried about being cast aside. But in Kirisaki Daiichi, where iron-blooded discipline was the culture, no one wanted to be the weak link.

"Heaven, Earth, and Void—three types of shots."

Momoi had already explained how to identify them.

Reo's shot selection depended entirely on how the defense played him.

Too slow, and the probability of a Void Shot skyrocketed.

Too aggressive, and he'd use an Earth Shot to force contact and draw the foul.

Just right, and he'd use a Heaven Shot to force a clean shot window.

Yamazaki had spent the past week memorizing every nuance of Reo's habits.

"My defense is just right—not too fast to overcommit, not too slow to give him space."

That left only one choice:

A high-difficulty fadeaway jumper—the Heaven Shot.

And sure enough, at the exact moment Yamazaki made his read, Reo had already sprung into the air, body arching slightly back.

He was shooting a fadeaway three from the right wing.

The difficulty was absurd.

But—

"Got him!"

Yamazaki jumped a split second later, having read the shot perfectly.

Smack!

Reo's shot was cleanly blocked and sent flying out of bounds.

The swat ignited a frenzy on the Kirisaki Daiichi bench.

The first-year players leapt to their feet, waving towels and roaring with excitement.

Akashi's expression had begun to turn dangerous.

First Hayama. Now Reo.

One by one, his Uncrowned Kings were being systematically shut down.

He wouldn't give them any more chances—because there was no need to.

Maybe they could score a few times through willpower and luck, but their overall efficiency didn't meet Akashi's standards.

He wouldn't waste valuable possessions on them anymore.

Once again, Akashi took control of the ball.

This time, he didn't pass.

He faced Tendou directly, his physical output suddenly surging—breaking past 80% of his limit in a flash.

Boom!

At that moment, Akashi felt a wave of clarity wash over his body.

He accelerated straight toward Tendou.

Faster.

Even the spectators could sense the change in him.

"Don't think that ability belongs to you alone, Tendou. If you can do it, so can I."

Akashi blew past Tendou and sprinted toward the paint.

But—

"So what if you've broken the 80% threshold?" Tendou replied, spinning around to follow.

He too unleashed more of his physical potential, snapping another chain that restrained him.

"The result… won't be any different."

"Tell me, Akashi… in that future you saw—was there ever a version where you win?"

...

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