During the tiout, Musashi Junior High's head coach was the sa as always—pouring motivational chicken soup into his players.
Fight!
Give it your all!
Keep your intensity up!
That was his philosophy: only when every player is fully locked in could they truly beco a wolf pack. Otherwise, they were just another species entirely—
Huskies.
These grinder-type players from Musashi weren't going to fold that easily.
At Musashi, resilience had already seeped into their veins.
But when they saw Tendou Kageyoshi—this first-year—dominating a key ga and leading his team forward solo, it stirred other thoughts in their minds.
It echoed what Kagami Taiga would go through in the future.
After witnessing true strength and being influenced by Aomine Daiki, he gave up on team play and tried to carry the whole team with individual heroics.
That was where Tanaka Goro's head was at now.
After repeatedly getting outplayed by Tendou, his ntality gradually collapsed. He started losing his grip.
He began thinking: patient ball movent is a waste of ti.
So at the start of the second quarter, he took matters into his own hands.
He held the ball and went iso, ignoring the team's offensive structure, skipping the pass-pass-pass that was supposed to create an opportunity.
That made so of the high school scouts in the crowd frown and shake their heads.
When you lose patience and start going into iso mode blindly, you're not far from defeat.
This "superstar basketball" approach is only for actual superstars.
Tanaka Goro—is he a superstar?
Obviously not. At best, he's top-tier among average players.
Wary of Tendou Kageyoshi's steals, Tanaka Goro's shot this ti was faster than ever.
He didn't even reach the apex of his jump before flinging the ball up in desperation.
In midair, his eyes stayed glued to the ball's arc, praying:
"Go in, damn it!"
Clang!
Lady Luck was not on his side today.
The prayer-ball smacked hard off the rim.
Tendou Kageyoshi dashed into the paint, leapt, and secured the rebound firmly.
"Hell yeah—rebound number four. Triple-double's locked in!"
He smirked to himself but didn't slow down for even half a second, instantly pushing into the fast break.
Akashi was already preparing to receive the ball and set up the next play—
But when he opened his hands, he realized Tendou had already zipped right past him with a whoosh.
All he could do was smile and shake his head.
Right now, Teikō's lineup on the floor was:
Akashi, Midorima, Tendou, Aomine, and Murasakibara—
All first-years.
Even so, they'd earned Shirogane Kōzō's trust with their performance in the earlier matches.
As soon as Tendou stepped across the three-point line, Musashi's defense sward.
His god-slaying first-quarter had earned him more defensive attention than even Teikō's captain, Nijimura Shūzō.
Sure, the captain was solid, but he didn't have this kind of explosive scoring output.
Scoring 16 points in a 10-minute quarter isn't sothing an ordinary player does.
This ti, faced with a double-team, Tendou passed up the "open" look and didn't force a contested jumper.
His eyes looked right—but the ball snapped left, hitting the bullhorn corner three-point line where Midorima stood waiting.
The four-eyed sniper didn't miss a beat—swish.
Assist
1.
Tendou was feeling great, and for once, even thought Midorima's glasses looked kind of charming.
That cannon's useful as hell!
If this were high school already, and the main plot had kicked in, he'd probably be averaging 20
assists per ga!
Too bad he was destined never to team up with any of the Generation of Miracles.
And they, likewise, would never agree to team up with him.
"What a beautiful no-look pass! Tendou isn't just a scorer—he can set up teammates too!"
"It feels like as long as the ball's in his hands, he'll find a way to get it into the basket—one way or another!"
The live comntators were going off.
As Japan's top-tier youth tournant, every ga of the national championship had dedicated analysts and announcers.
You could tell just by looking at the venues—these were full-on professional-grade arenas.
Football was even more ridiculous.
Tendou had heard from others that a junior high national championship final could attract 80,000 spectators in person.
In terms of structure, the national tournant was Japan's equivalent of the U.S.'s NCAA: not quite pro level, but with its own unique charm.
While jogging back on defense, Aomine couldn't help complaining:
"I had the better look just now!"
Aomine's fast-break hustle was second only to Tendou himself.
The mont he saw Tendou get the board, he'd instantly turned and bolted downcourt—
Already parked in the paint, ready to finish the play.
He threw a look at Tendou like: "Really? Not ?"
The look was so on-point, he looked just like his idol, LeBron.
So naturally, Tendou hit him with the classic Jordan shrug.
That shrug said it all:
"Don't tell
how to hoop. You might be the second GOAT on Mount Rushmore, but I'm the real one."
"Three's worth more than two."
Couldn't argue with that.
Midorima quietly gave him a ntal thumbs-up.
For the first ti, he looked at this chaos-loving guy with a little more respect.
He wasn't shaless like Tendou or Aomine, always demanding the ball or hijacking the play.
But just because he didn't ask, didn't an he didn't want it.
No ball = no chance to show what you can do.
And how else could he prove himself to the national crowd?
The four-eyes felt like he'd found a kindred spirit.
Maybe later he'd play shōgi with Tendou.
Too bad...
Tendou only knew how to play Dōbutsu Shōgi, and even then he was a dirty cheater who'd always try to take his moves back.
Challenge him to fencing, and you might get sowhere!
With the team hitting stride, Shirogane Kōzō finally relaxed.
Right now, he firmly believed—
As long as the team could keep pace with that No. 14…
Teikō would make history.
And Tendou didn't disappoint.
Threading through bodies, drawing multiple defenders, then finding the open man.
Of course, he still preferred to crash into the paint himself.
Even when defenders collapsed on him, he'd euro-step through and drop it in.
His scoring montum didn't let up for a second.
The number of bodies in front of him didn't matter—
He scored anyway.
At the junior high level, no one could stop this beast.
Eventually, Shirogane had to pull him—stop the massacre.
Tendou could've kept going, and wanted to.
But at the five-minute mark of the second quarter, he was subbed out to rest.
Because Aomine and the others also needed to adapt to this kind of high-intensity match.
It couldn't just be Tendou carrying the slaughter.
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