Kuroko no Basket: Honored One

Time passed quietly as Hanamiya Makoto and Haizaki Shōgo bickered like a pair of squabbling siblings.

Before long, the Winter Cup was about to ignite once again.

The tournament's core purpose was to scout outstanding talent from across the nation.

Those selected would eventually join the national youth training camp—designed to cultivate the next generation and stockpile talent for the future of Japanese basketball.

This is why the full name of the Winter Cup is the Winter Selection Tournament.

It's worth noting that while it is a major annual competition, it differs from the national tournament in structure and scope. The rules for the Winter Cup are slightly more refined.

There are 47 prefectures in Japan, and each gets one spot. The host region is granted one additional slot, making 48 teams in total.

On top of that, the champion and runner-up of the Inter-High—essentially, the national tournament—automatically qualify, bringing the total number of participating teams to 50, ten fewer than the national tournament.

This year's Winter Cup was again being held in Tokyo (in the anime, both Shūtoku and Seirin advanced from Tokyo at the same time, and they didn't even need overtime—clearly, the Winter Cup is based in Tokyo).

So this year, Tokyo was allowed three participating teams.

Kirisaki Daiichi held one of those spots. The remaining two would be fought over by other schools.

Still, after the trials of the national tournament, only three teams emerged from Tokyo with the strength to truly compete: Kaijō, Seihō, and Seirin.

What followed was a single-elimination bracket determined by a random draw.

As seen in the anime, Seirin and Tōō—two Tokyo-area schools—ended up facing off in the first round of the Winter Cup.

Even the author probably realized that was a bit illogical, but hey, fiction bends the rules sometimes.

As the reigning national champions, Kirisaki Daiichi naturally didn't need to go through the preliminaries.

That gave them ample time to prepare for the Winter Cup knockout rounds.

Still, Haizaki was a newly joined player, and his integration into the team had been rushed and imperfect.

But it didn't need to be perfect—just good enough.

Tendou Kageyoshi firmly believed that when a player's skill was strong enough, compatibility ceased to be an issue.

While pondering who to schedule for a practice match, Tōō suddenly reached out to Kirisaki.

Since Kirisaki Daiichi had already secured a Winter Cup spot and wouldn't face Tōō in preliminaries, Katsunori Harasawa, true to his "fight the strongest" principle, arranged a match with Kirisaki through Momoi.

When Tōō's players arrived at Kirisaki Daiichi's gym and saw Haizaki warming up, they were stunned.

"Haizaki Shōgo?!"

"Wasn't he with Fukuda Sōgō? What's he doing at Kirisaki?"

"Did he transfer?"

Clearly, none of them had expected Haizaki to appear on Kirisaki's roster.

Kirisaki was already the reigning champion—now with Haizaki on the team, their strength was terrifying. Possibly only Rakuzan could compare.

"Haizaki, what the hell are you doing here?" Aomine was just as surprised. From what he remembered, Haizaki wasn't the kind of guy to play second fiddle to anyone.

"No big deal. Someone begged me a few times, so I graciously agreed to come," Haizaki said arrogantly, glancing at Tendou like he didn't even know him.

Aomine now understood—Haizaki had clearly joined up with Tendou.

He looked at Tendou and said hoarsely, "Can't believe you're able to keep him in check."

"Don't forget who led you to three straight national championships, and who still won a national title even after the team disbanded." Tendou, wearing sunglasses, turned and shook hands with Katsunori Harasawa.

He wore many hats—team captain, coach, and player.

"Thanks for having us, Tendou."

"No problem. It's a good opportunity for us to work on team chemistry."

Harasawa nodded. Adding someone like Haizaki—just a step below the Generation of Miracles—to the roster required serious adjustments.

After their brief exchange, Tendou turned and locked eyes with Momoi.

The girl was watching him eagerly. After that commercial shoot, even her friends didn't dare tease her anymore—it had unexpectedly boosted her reputation.

She felt compelled to push back, at least a little.

"How's the modeling gig?"

"It's okay, just not used to having so many new fans," Momoi said. Thanks to that commercial and Tendou's popularity, she'd signed with a talent agency.

Her cute looks and perfectly proportioned figure had quickly drawn a devoted male following.

"That's good. Keep it up. Let's go eat after the game." Tendou gave her a gentle head pat before heading to the bench.

"Okay!"

...

With both teams ready, the game began.

Tendou didn't take the court; he watched from the sidelines.

He was still deciding what position Haizaki should play.

Haizaki was incredibly versatile. Thanks to his "Pillage" ability, he could play any position except center.

Even then, his height made center a possibility in a pinch.

That said, players with all-around skills were usually best suited for small forward—a position that allowed for shooting, driving, and passing. Ideal for ball-handlers.

But that overlapped with Tendou's own position...

He was weighing two options.

One: put Haizaki at power forward to shore up their weak interior.

Two: use Haizaki at shooting guard to boost their perimeter offense.

As for the small forward slot, unfortunately for Haizaki, Tendou was more versatile and a better fit to initiate plays. Kirisaki needed him to lead the offense.

Tendou decided to test things out in this game before making a final call.

He started by putting Haizaki at power forward. The result? Kirisaki lost the first quarter by 10 points.

Unsurprisingly—Aomine was playing power forward too, and Haizaki didn't have much of an edge in that matchup.

In the second quarter, Tendou moved Haizaki to shooting guard, and the results were even more dramatic—Kirisaki lost the quarter by 7.

At halftime, they were down by 17 points.

But there was a silver lining: by halftime, most of Tōō's players had their abilities copied by Haizaki.

"Coach, at this rate, we're in trouble," Momoi said, already sensing the danger.

Katsunori Harasawa felt the same. Aside from Aomine, most of their players had had their unique skills stolen.

Basic layups and average shots weren't enough to break through Kirisaki's defense anymore. Only Aomine could still score reliably.

If Tendou entered in the third quarter and focused solely on shutting down Aomine, that 17-point lead might not be safe.

And that's exactly what happened.

Tendou took the court in the third quarter and glued himself to Aomine, leaving the rest to his teammates.

Aomine's scoring efficiency dropped to just 40%.

Meanwhile, Haizaki—now freed from Aomine's defense—was guided by Hanamiya's pinpoint passes. He went 8-for-10 in the quarter and scored 19 points.

Kirisaki stormed back, cutting the lead by 16 in just one quarter.

"So easy. When we played Tōō in the national tournament, was it ever this easy?"

During the break, Hiroshi called out what everyone was thinking: Teikō's beasts were on another level.

And Haizaki wasn't even considered part of the Generation of Miracles—just half a step behind. But now with Tendou's help, he was evolving fast.

"Hmph," Haizaki scoffed coldly, though inside, he was pleased. These guys were finally recognizing his value.

"Don't get cocky. It's just a scrimmage," Tendou warned while taking a sip of water. "In a real game, Aomine will go all out."

Still, Kirisaki Daiichi's growth was undeniable.

They had only played half a game and were already on the verge of beating Tōō. That alone showed how monstrous their current lineup had become.