Yes, the foreigners were strong – no doubt about it.
But Seirin had more urgent business to take care of. That international team could wait. First, they had to make it through the Final League.
The match against Senshinkan was brutal – they were kings for a reason. But in the end, Seirin prevailed, winning 78–61.
Next came Shūtoku. They had changed. Everyone knew it. But after all those practice matches, Seirin were ready to face them head-on. Both teams lined up.
Seirin's lineup:
PG – Shun Izuki (5'8", 141 lbs)
SG – Junpei Hyūga (5'10", 150 lbs)
SF – Tetsuya Kuroko (5'6", 126 lbs)
PF – Taiga Kagami (6'3", 181 lbs)
C – Teppei Kiyoshi (6'4", 179 lbs)
Shūtoku's lineup:
PG – Kazunari Takao (5'9", 143 lbs)
SG – Shintarō Midorima (6'5", 174 lbs)
SF – Kiyoshi Miyaji (6'3", 170 lbs)
PF – Shinsuke Kimura (6'2", 176 lbs)
C – Taisuke Ōtsubo (6'6", 216 lbs)
Midorima even looked different. Gone were his regular glasses – replaced by sleek athletic ones. Riko noticed immediately.
"Contact play," she muttered. "He's going serious this time."
The whistle blew.
Winter Cup Final League. Seirin vs. Shūtoku – the second official match.
The crowd was roaring, but the players were silent.
Kiyoshi tipped the ball straight to Izuki. Seirin launched their signature run-and-gun offense. Shūtoku barely reacted.
Izuki passed to Kuroko – a blur of blue – and Kuroko punched a lob to Kagami. One leap. One slam. A thunderous dunk to open the game. A statement.
But Shūtoku didn't flinch.
Ōtsubo inbounded to Takao, who crossed half court and called the first set. He didn't pass to Midorima. Instead, he spread the floor.
Ōtsubo jogged casually to the top of the arc – wide open – and released a three.
Swish.
Hyūga: "What the hell?! Ōtsubo?!"
Riko: "He's shooting threes now?!"
Takao grinned as he jogged back on defense. "We've been working on a few things. Back in those practice games, we didn't show you everything."
On Shūtoku's next possession, Seirin tightened up. Kagami took Midorima one-on-one, crouched low, ready to leap on any shot. But Midorima didn't even lift the ball.
He started to dribble. Not rushed. Not fancy. Just calm, steady rhythm. Between the legs. Cross. Between the legs again. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Each bounce measured. Enchanting.
Kagami frowned. "What's he doing?"
Midorima didn't answer – his eyes were fixed on Kagami's feet.
Left foot too high. Weight leaning forward. Perfect.
A jab. A sudden lean – Kagami reacted. Midorima stepped back, drew contact, and rose.
Whistle.
The ball arced.
Swish.
And-one.
The gym erupted.
Hyūga: "Did he just draw that on purpose?!"
Teppei: "Yeah. He baited him. He knew Kagami would bite."
Kagami glared, half furious, half confused. "He didn't even move!"
Riko groaned. "He's not moving the ball, idiot – he's moving you!"
~~~~~
Flashback – Okinawa
Midorima's breath came heavy, sweat pouring down his face. Daniel stood across from him, clipboard in hand. Then Erik Kuhlmann, the head coach, walked by.
He looked Midorima over and said, "Hm… You don't look like a gambling man."
"I'm not," Midorima replied calmly.
"Then why do you shoot all those wild threes?"
"Because three is always bigger than two."
Kuhlmann smiled faintly. "Indeed. But you know what's bigger than three? Four." And he walked away.
Midorima blinked, puzzled. "Four?"
Daniel smiled. "Free throws," he said simply. That was the first time Midorima heard about a certain philosophy – the one Mike D'Antoni built around James Harden.
~~~~~
Back on the court, Midorima sank the free throw.
Shūtoku spread wider than ever – a five-out formation. Takao dribbled at the wing, passed to Midorima, and cleared out.
Hyūga switched onto him, staying close, smarter this time. Midorima dribbled in rhythm again. Between the legs. Pause. Hesitation. Cross. Back.
Each move identical – except for the timing.
He slowed down, then exploded. Hyūga blinked – and Midorima was already two feet away, pulling up from mid-range.
Swish.
Riko folded her arms. "Bad."
Koganei frowned. "Why? He's taking twos instead of threes. That's better, right?"
Riko shook her head. "No. He's not forcing shots anymore. He's taking whatever the defense gives him – and that's dangerous."
A first-year on the bench tilted his head. "Coach, what do you mean?"
Riko turned, explaining quickly. "Think about it. One three-pointer is worth more than a two. But what if you only hit thirty out of a hundred threes? That's ninety points. Now hit sixty out of a hundred mid-ranges – that's a hundred-twenty. He's not chasing luck anymore.Three-pointers look flashier, but mid-range is safer. If you can hit them at a higher rate, it adds up faster than gambling from deep."
Seirin tried to blitz the next possession. Kagami and Hyūga trapped him near the sideline – hard. Midorima didn't panic. One cross, a bump into Kagami's chest – whistle.
Kagami: "Come on! That's soft!"
Ref: "Shooting foul."
Midorima walked calmly to the line, adjusted his new glasses, and drained all three free throws.
By halfway through the first quarter, Shūtoku led 18–9. Midorima already had 13 points – half from the line. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't taunting. He was calculating.
~~~~~
On defense, Ōtsubo sagged back, protecting the paint while Takao shadowed Kuroko. Every Seirin drive was forced sideways – no middle, no rhythm.
Kuroko: "They're closing every path."
Riko: "They're forcing us outside… just like they used to be forced."
Seirin tried a fast break – Kuroko's pass, Kagami's leap, slam!
The crowd roared. But as Kagami landed, Takao was already gone – a perfect outlet pass to Midorima on the wing. One slow dribble, step-back – whistle.
Hyūga's hand brushed his elbow. The shot went in anyway.
A four-point play.
The Shūtoku bench erupted. Takao laughed. "Man, you're different now."
Midorima wiped his face with a towel, voice low. "I stopped chasing shots."
Takao smirked. "So what are you after now?"
Midorima adjusted his glasses. "Rhythm."
The buzzer ended the first quarter. Riko slammed her clipboard. "He's turned the game into his pace. Kagami can't jump, Hyūga can't contest – even when we defend right, he's already dictating the flow."
Midorima stood at half court, calm and composed. No arrogance, no gestures. Just quiet breathing. He flexed his right hand once and whispered to himself – one of James Harden's pillars of play: "Focus on what I can control."
The scoreboard glowed: Shūtoku 38 – Seirin 23.