『Bro… why'd you go and ss with him?』
『You were lucky he didn't elbow you first, and you threw an elbow?』
『You really tried to fight back?』
The comnt section exploded.
The mont Kagami dropped to his knees again, the entire real-world audience lost it.
The barrage of comnts filled the screen, all reacting to Tendou's overwhelming dominance.
After all, this wasn't just any match. Viewers had followed this story since the prequel, and to many of them, Tendou was far more familiar than Seirin's supposed "main character" Kagami.
In the very first popularity poll of Kuroko no Basket, Kuroko ranked #1 and Tendou #2.
But in the second round, thanks to his scene-stealing monts involving Riko, Tendou surged past Kuroko to take the top spot.
That was back during the prequel, of course. Once the current storyline kicked in and Tendou's screenti decreased, the original protagonist reclaid first place.
Still, Tendou had never fallen out of the top three.
But after this episode?
Tendou's popularity was bound to skyrocket again.
This match was on another level entirely.
Compared to this, Seirin's previous gas against Kaijō and Shūtoku were like kid's play.
Tendou's return had taken the power scale of the series to new heights.
New viewers were completely hooked, flooding into the fanbase because of him.
And the proof?
From the mont this match began, Tendou's "Popularity
1" indicator hadn't stopped flashing.
Back on the court.
Everyone on Seirin was shouting Kagami's na in panic.
He just knelt there in shock, his wide, trembling eyes locked on Tendou's.
Tendou's pupils shimred like starlight.
"That was your return gift," Tendou said calmly.
"I'm not apologizing."
He took the ball and—
swish, a smooth mid-range jumper. Perfect form. Nothing but net.
Aida Riko nervously paced a few steps toward the scoring table.
Then stopped, hesitated, and slowly returned to her seat.
She wanted to call another tiout—badly.
But they'd just burned one.
And honestly, she had no idea how to turn things around.
There was nothing more she could say.
The players would have to figure it out themselves.
Over at Rakuzan, even their typically cool-headed players reacted.
"…Akashi?"
"…No way."
"…That can't be real!"
The three Uncrowned Kings all widened their eyes.
Kagami dropping to his knees like that triggered a collective mory.
Not because they had been broken by Tendou—
But because they had all been floored by their own captain: Akashi Seijūrō.
Back when Akashi first joined, he didn't bond with the team the way Tendou did.
He dominated them into submission.
In that infamous match, each of the Uncrowned Kings had been crossed, dropped, and dismantled.
And watching the current ga unfold…
It was almost identical.
Even Akashi's expression had shifted.
For the first ti in a long while, the ever-composed Emperor showed a crack.
"So… I'm not the only one who can see the future."
Tendou had no-blind-spot vision, insane perception, unmatchable analysis, and absolute body control.
And now—he was predicting the future too?
"No. My Emperor Eye… is still the ultimate."
He tried to steady his thoughts and keep watching—
But his confidence? It wasn't as solid as it used to be.
...
End of the third quarter.
Kagami's second fall to his knees felt like it had drained the last of Seirin's spirit.
On the bench, not one of them looked like they had anything left.
As a rookie coach, Riko's limitations were starting to show.
A more experienced coach might've already subbed out the exhausted players, conserving energy for the rest of the round-robin.
The goal was to advance—not to win every battle.
But she feared that pulling Kagami now would kill morale entirely.
So she held on, still trying to find a way to reignite the team.
But the players?
They were staring at the scoreboard—
And the gaping deficit.
How the hell were they supposed to turn that around?
Kagami sat quietly, a white towel draped over his head.
He said nothing.
This was the worst defeat he had ever experienced since picking up a basketball.
And it had happened in front of a national audience.
They weren't going to win.
Even if the whole team gave it everything—
They couldn't beat him.
Tendou was just too strong.
If he were only stronger, like Tendou…
If he were just a bit more capable—
None of this would've happened.
He could feel how badly morale had plumted.
And though he wanted to help—
Tendou's words kept echoing in his mind.
"Your light… is far too dim."
...
"Still trying to act tough?"
Hara Kazuya had noticed the atmosphere on Seirin's bench.
They were dead silent.
No fire left.
"What are they even planning? Thinking they can mount a coback from this?"
"Tone it down," Tendou cut him off.
"That kind of talk makes you sound like a villain."
Lines like that were always the cue for the hero to co back stronger.
Just like Tōō did in the main series—
They talked big and ended up eliminated by Seirin's upgraded team.
"…Aren't we villains?"
Furuhashi Kōjirō asked, his dead-fish eyes unblinking.
"Um…"
The rest of Kirisaki Daiichi's bad boys all fell silent.
『Wait—are they seriously asking that?!』
『Bruh I'm crying.』
『They really just realized they're the antagonists?!』
『Silence is tonight's Furuhashi… LOL.』
The live chat erupted with laughter.
People were starting to realize that despite their dirty plays, Kirisaki Daiichi's players had weirdly charming personalities.
Maybe it was because Seirin's characters felt a bit too flat in comparison—
But the eccentricity of these "villains" made them stand out more and more.
...
End of quarter break.
Fourth quarter begins.
Kirisaki Daiichi wasted no ti—imdiately deploying their Spiderweb Defense.
They didn't even bother throwing elbows anymore.
Why bother?
Seirin couldn't fight back.
Still—Kuroko didn't give up.
He focused on subtly adjusting Izuki's passing lanes, speeding up the ball's movent to avoid interception.
Izuki launched a pass.
Kuroko struck—his five fingers spread into a claw-like motion, loading his right arm and slamming the ball with all his strength.
"Accelerated pass!"
Kagami charged into the paint.
The ball was for him—he was the only one left who could receive it.
The basketball roared like a cannonball toward the paint—
Only to be stopped midair by a single arm, slicing across like a tennis racket.
The ball shook violently, resisting for a mont—
But was ultimately subdued.
"…That hand…"
They didn't need to guess.
They already knew who it belonged to.
"You haven't changed a bit, Kuroko."
"Not even a little."
Tendou stood there between Kuroko and Kagami, once again—shattering their hopes.
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