The smoke of the National Tournament semifinal had yet to clear, and Teikō Junior High's locker room was filled with the exhaustion that followed victory and an indescribable tension. In the match that had just ended, Teikō had narrowly defeated the powerhouse from Hokkaido—Snow Peak Academy—88:85. The closeness of the score and the danger of the match were unlike anything Teikō had experienced since the National Tournament began.
Snow Peak Academy had an extremely troublesome point guard at its core—Fujiwara Ken. He was like a lone wolf on an icy plain, calm and cunning, with top-tier court vision and passes that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Even more frightening was his pinpoint mid-range pull-up jumper. Teikō's vaunted defense had repeatedly faltered against him. In the first half, Teikō had even fallen behind by eight points!
Their eventual comeback victory had relied on the entire team giving everything they had:
* Aomine Daiki had exploded in the final quarter, like a beast breaking free of its shackles. He repeatedly attacked the basket and stabilized the situation with sheer, unreasonable scoring.
* Midōrima Shintarō had endured immense pressure during the final three minutes and sunk two priceless, long-range three-pointers, closing the gap and then overtaking them!
* Murasaki-bara Atsushi had dominated the crucial rebounds at the end and delivered a thunderous block, killing Snow Peak's last hope of a comeback.
* Akashi Seijūrō's orchestration and crucial steal had been like a needle stabilizing the sea.
* Bai Ze You had influenced the entire game, tearing through the defense with his signature flexibility and rhythm, delivering several crucial assists, and restricting Snow Peak's other scorer on defense to create the opportunity for his teammates to decide the game.
Yet the atmosphere in the locker room was not the excitement and release one would expect after such a thrilling comeback. An invisible pressure hung over everyone. Its source was Akashi Seijūrō, sitting on a bench in the corner and wiping his glasses with a towel.
Akashi's movements were meticulous and unhurried. The white towel passed over the lenses, polishing them until they gleamed. His crimson eyes reappeared behind the glass, calm and emotionless, yet like a frigid pool too deep to see the bottom, radiating a chilling cold that made hearts tremble. The aura around him stood in stark contrast to the exhausted gasps of the players around him.
Captain Nijimura Shūzō was giving a brief summary, affirming everyone's fighting spirit and especially praising Aomine for his explosion in the final quarter and Midōrima for sinking the crucial threes. But when his gaze swept over Akashi, his brows drew together almost imperceptibly. He had sensed that unusual chill.
Akashi put on his glasses and slowly rose to his feet. His movements were not fast, but they carried an invisible pressure that instantly silenced the somewhat noisy locker room. Only the hum of the air conditioner and the players' heavy breathing remained.
Akashi's calm gaze swept over every player before finally landing on Bai Ze You. Bai Ze You was lowering his head as he adjusted his knee pads. He could feel the cold scrutiny of that gaze, as if it possessed tangible weight.
"Thanks for your hard work, everyone." Akashi's voice rang out, calm and emotionless, revealing nothing of his mood. "We've advanced to the finals."
The brief pause was like the calm before a storm.
"But," Akashi's voice suddenly turned cold, like an icicle piercing the still air, "I'm extremely dissatisfied with the way this game was played."
The temperature in the locker room seemed to drop several degrees. Aomine frowned. Midorima's fingers stopped halfway through adjusting his glasses. Murasaki-bara paused while chewing his snacks. Even Kuroko Tetsuya's calm, expressionless face seemed to ripple almost imperceptibly. Nijimura Shūzō folded his arms, his expression darkening.
"We were down by eight points in the first half, were tied at one point in the second half, and only managed to narrowly win by three points at the end through a lucky shot and our opponents' mistake." Akashi's voice echoed clearly through the silent locker room, every word carrying icy weight. "That is not the way Teikō should win. We are still far too distant from 'Absolute Victory.'"
"Absolute Victory?" Aomine could not help speaking up, his tone full of displeasure at being questioned. "Isn't winning enough? We won in the end, didn't we?"
"Won?" Akashi's gaze turned toward Aomine, not a trace of warmth in his crimson eyes. "Aomine, your wildness did save the team in the final quarter. But before that, you were provoked and enraged by their dirty tricks and double-teams, sinking into the mire of playing alone. How many chances did you waste? How many openings for counterattacks did you give them? Your emotions were a huge hole in the team's defense!"
Aomine choked, his face flushing red, but he could not refute him. In the first half, he really had lost control because of their provocations and double-teams, leading to several unnecessary turnovers.
Akashi's gaze shifted to Midorima. "Midorima, those final two threes were crucial. But before that, you hesitated to shoot because of the special attention they gave you, missing at least three open opportunities. Your 'Absolute Accuracy' must be built on absolute calm and confidence, not on a mindset affected by defensive pressure."
Midorima remained silent. His gaze flickered behind his lenses, clearly struck at the heart of the matter.
"Murasaki-bara," Akashi said without a change in tone. "Your rebounds and blocks are the foundation. But your sluggishness when defending screens and your careless ball handling on offense gave them too many easy scoring opportunities. Focus, Murasaki-bara. I need you focused for the entire game, not just at the very end."
Murasaki-bara muttered and turned his face away.
Akashi's gaze ultimately returned to Bai Ze You, sharp enough to seem capable of piercing his soul.
"Yū." Akashi's voice was calm, yet possessed an undeniable penetrating force. "You did well breaking through the defense they specifically arranged against you, and you contributed both to linking the plays and finishing them. But—"
Akashi paused. The locker room was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop.
"With 1:07 left in the game, we were leading by two points. You brought the ball up, and two opponents double-teamed you. Using a Fake Move and Rhythm Change, you successfully shook off the defense completely. The area ahead of you was wide open, and you were only one step from the basket." Akashi's voice was like a cold judgment, clearly dissecting the moment everyone else had overlooked. "At that moment, you had absolute confidence that you could finish the layup yourself and widen the lead to a safe four points. And yet, what did you choose?"
Bai Ze You's heart sank. He remembered that moment. He really had shaken off the defense, leaving open space before him. But he had also seen Midōrima Shintarō open in the corner. Trusting his teammate and choosing the safer option, he had passed the ball.
"You chose to pass to Midorima in the corner." Akashi's voice held no emotion, yet every word cut like a blade. "Midorima did sink that three, widening the lead to five points and completely killing the suspense. Judging by the result, your choice was correct."
Akashi abruptly changed direction, his voice turning cold and oppressive:
"But, Yū, let me ask you—"
"What if Midorima's shot hadn't gone in?"
"What if the pass had been intercepted because they read it?"
"What if those few tenths of a second lost to the pass had allowed their defense to recover and disrupt the shot?"
"What if... we had lost the game because of it?"
That string of icy "what ifs" crashed into everyone's hearts like heavy hammers! The air in the locker room seemed to freeze. Everyone could imagine the consequences—one "selfless" choice throwing away all the effort of the entire game! It would have been an unbearable defeat!
"Your pass was based on your trust in Midorima's ability and your belief in 'teamwork.'" Akashi's gaze was like a tangible icicle stabbing toward Bai Ze You. "There was nothing wrong with that. But on the path toward 'Absolute Victory,' any choice that entrusts the outcome to another person, that entrusts it to 'possibility,' is unacceptable! It is an insult to victory!"
Akashi's voice was decisive, carrying an emperor's majesty and merciless rationality:
"At that moment, when you possessed both the ability and the opportunity to finish the game with absolute certainty, your only choice was to destroy it yourself! You had to seize victory firmly in your own hands in the most direct, least suspenseful way possible! Give the opponent not the slightest chance to fight back! Give fate not the slightest possibility of turning the tables!"
"This is 'Absolute Victory'!" Akashi's voice echoed through the silent locker room, cold and powerful. "It demands that we cast aside all reliance on luck and crush every variable! It demands that every one of us possess the resolve and ability to end everything with our own hands at the most crucial moment! Only when every 'what if' has been strangled in its cradle will victory truly belong to Teikō!"
Akashi's gaze swept across the room before finally stopping on Bai Ze You's face. His voice was low but undeniable:
"Yū, your 'White Phantom' is powerful and dazzling. But remember, upon the throne of Absolute Victory, brilliance is not essential. Certainty is. Next time, when you can end the game with your own hands, I hope to see not a pass, but... Absolute Destruction."
With that, Akashi stopped looking at anyone, picked up his sports bag, and turned to leave the locker room. He left behind only dead silence and heavy pressure.
Aomine opened and closed his mouth, wanting to say something, but ultimately raked a hand through his hair irritably and fell silent. Midorima pushed up his glasses, his gaze complicated behind the lenses. Murasaki-bara yawned, seemingly unconcerned by Akashi's words—or perhaps he had not taken them in at all. Kuroko Tetsuya stood quietly in the corner, the oppressive locker room lights reflected in his clear blue eyes.
Captain Nijimura Shūzō watched Akashi's departing back, then looked at Bai Ze You, who had lowered his head in silence, his brows tightly furrowed. He understood Akashi's extreme pursuit of victory; it was the foundation that kept Teikō undefeated. But the cold, almost inhuman "absoluteness" in Akashi's words, and his extreme emphasis on individual finishing, made him uneasy. It seemed to be heading in a direction different from the team-oriented basketball he understood.
Bai Ze You sat on the bench, the sweat having long since cooled and clinging to his skin with a trace of chill. Akashi's cold words echoed repeatedly through his mind like a spell. "Absolute confidence... finish it with my own hands... give them no chance..." He lowered his head and looked at his own hands. At that moment, had he really been confident he could score the layup himself? Yes. But he had chosen to trust his teammate, choosing the safer team-oriented approach. Had that been wrong?
Akashi's idea of "Absolute Victory" was like a cold, towering wall, colliding violently with his own pure love of basketball and trust in his team. He longed for victory and yearned to stand at the summit, but he had never imagined obtaining it through such an almost "dictatorial" and "zero-tolerance" approach.
Momoi Satsuki stood in the corner, clutching her clipboard tightly. Her data analysis of the game had already been completed, but the tip of her pen hovered above the columns labeled "Teamwork" and "Leadership Decisions," unable to descend for a long time. Akashi's words weighed on her heart like a heavy stone. Beside Bai Ze You's name, she wrote in minuscule characters:
"Observation Record: Flashpoint of Ideological Conflict."
"Akashi's Ideology: The Absoluteness of Victory (individual finishing prioritized, zero tolerance)."
"Bai Ze's Ideology: The Certainty of Victory (teamwork prioritized, trust in teammates)."
"Potential Impact: A rift in team morale? A crisis of trust in decision-making?"
She looked worriedly toward Bai Ze You. The boy who moved across the court with the agility and confidence of a White Phantom now had his head lowered, his silent figure seeming somewhat thin and lost beneath the locker room's cold lights.
The taste of victory still lingered on their tongues, but Akashi's cold "reminder" was like a venom-tempered icicle, piercing through the facade of celebration and exposing the cold, cruel core of "Absolute Victory" before all the "miracles." Bai Ze You clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. He looked toward the tightly closed locker room door, as if he could see the back of Akashi walking away—and the cold, lonely road to the throne of "Absolute Victory" that it represented.
Was this really what all of them wanted at the end of this road? How was his "Phantom" supposed to find its place beneath this cold and absolute will? The finals stage was close at hand, but the undercurrents within Teikō had already begun to stir. At the bottom of her clipboard, Momoi drew a huge question mark.
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