Deep into the night, Teikō Basketball Gym was so empty that only the monotonous echo of the basketball striking the floor and the heavy, stifled sound of breathing remained. Sweat streamed down Nijimura Shūzō's bronze, sharply defined cheeks, dripping onto the polished floor and spreading into dark stains. He was bare-chested, his muscles knotted and his contours seemingly carved by blades and axes, gleaming with moisture beneath the pallid lights. Every dribble carried a dull force, every turn came with rapid breaths, and every shot poured in the strength of his entire body, as if he meant to smash some invisible weight viciously into the cold hoop!
"Bang!" "Bang!" "Bang!"
The basketball slammed against the front of the rim again and again, flying away with an ear-piercing clang. This was no training session. It was more like an outlet. Sweat soaked through his athletic shorts, dragging long wet streaks across the floor. He was like a male lion trapped in a cage—agitated and furious, yet filled with helplessness.
The Captain's Burden had never felt so heavy.
The joy of narrowly defeating Snow Peak Academy that day had long since vanished, replaced by the shockwaves brought on by Akashi Seijūrō's bone-chilling declaration of the "absolute nature of victory" in the locker room. Those words were like a sharp icicle. They had pierced not only Bai Ze You, but also Nijimura Shūzō's heart, stirring the convictions he had always steadfastly upheld.
"Absolute Victory..." Nijimura panted under his breath as he dribbled toward the hoop again. Forcing his way through the resistance of the air, he leaped high and slammed down a powerful two-handed dunk!
"Crash!"
The basketball smashed into the rim and flew away again! The tremendous recoil left his arms numb, and he staggered when he landed.
Bracing his hands on his knees, he gasped for breath, his chest heaving violently. Yet the scene in the locker room rose uncontrollably before his eyes: Akashi's emotionless crimson eyes and his cold, authoritative words; Bai Ze You's clenched fists and slightly trembling shoulders as he lowered his head in silence; Aomine's frustration and suffocating inability to argue back; Midori's hidden worry beneath his silence; Murasbara's indifference; Kuroko's quiet; and the unshakeable worry in Momoi Satsuki's eyes...
"At that moment, when you possess the ability and opportunity to end the game with absolute certainty, your only choice is to destroy it yourself!"
"Any choice that entrusts the outcome to others, that entrusts it to 'possibility,' is unacceptable! It is a blasphemy against victory!"
"Flair is not a necessity. Certainty is! Next time, I want to see Absolute Destruction!"
Akashi's words echoed through Nijimura's mind again and again, cold and powerful, carrying an indisputable logic. As captain, he understood the importance of victory better than anyone. Teikō's goal had always been to dominate the nation and pursue perfection. Akashi's extreme desire for victory, his cold and ruthless determination to seize it at any cost, was, to a certain extent... a powerful weapon in the cruel world of competitive sports. It could eliminate luck and force everyone to reach their limits.
But...
Nijimura rose slowly and picked up the basketball that had rolled away, his fingertips exerting so much force that they turned white. He closed his eyes, but what appeared in his mind was Teikō as it had been in the beginning. When he was still Vice-Captain, they had pursued victory under the leadership of the former captain as well, but that victory had contained the unreserved trust between teammates, shouts of mutual support in adversity, and the searing passion of everyone embracing after a game-winning shot! Basketball was not merely cold numbers of wins and losses. It was teamwork, trust, and the Passion of Fighting Together!
Bai Ze You had chosen to trust Midori at the final moment, passing the ball to the teammate in the better position. Was that wrong? In Nijimura's eyes, that was precisely the essence of team basketball! It was absolute trust in his teammate's ability! Midori had made the shot and ended the game. That should have been a perfect expression of teamwork! Yet in Akashi's eyes, it had become a "blasphemy" that "entrusted victory to possibility"?
"Since when did trust become a weakness?" Nijimura murmured to himself, his voice hoarse and filled with deep confusion and pain.
He understood Bai Ze You's silence and bewilderment in that moment. The white-haired boy possessed talent and competitiveness no less than anyone else, but his pure love for basketball and his cherishment of the team had come into fierce, irreconcilable conflict with Akashi's cold, almost merciless concept of "Absolute Victory." This conflict existed not only between Bai Ze You and Akashi. It was also like a crack quietly spreading through Teikō's team, a group overflowing with talent yet filled with distinct personalities.
Aomine's wildness was nearing the edge of losing control, and he was growing increasingly impatient with teamwork. Midori had sealed himself inside a fortress of data and calculations. Murasbara cared only about "fun" and snacks. Kise stumbled through the maze of imitation and creation. Kuroko was like a silent shadow... And Akashi was using his powerful will and cold logic to force everyone into the mold of "Absolute Victory," smoothing away their edges and removing the "impurities."
Nijimura felt as if he stood at the center of the crack, with an unsteady foundation beneath his feet. On one side lay the cold iron tracks represented by Akashi, leading toward the supreme throne. On the other was the fortress he cherished in his heart, called "Teikō Basketball," filled with warmth and bonds.
What was a captain's duty?
Was it to lead the team toward victory? Without a doubt!
But was victory alone enough? What about the way victory was achieved? What would remain after victory? A group of cold machines twisted by victory? Or a championship team bound by shared convictions and beautiful memories?
He remembered the light in Bai Ze You's eyes as he high-fived his teammates after using extraordinary flexibility and skill to break through the Triple Chain in the match against Toyotama. He remembered the awkward yet genuine smile Aomine had shown Bai Ze You after completing a spectacular dunk. He remembered the teammates' heartfelt cheers after Midori sank a crucial shot. He even remembered the lazy yet faintly smug expression Murasbara had worn after managing an impressive defensive play for once...
Were these moments, these humane sparks that belonged to the team, not more precious than cold Absolute Destruction? Were they not worth protecting?
"Phew..." Nijimura let out a long breath, then hurled the basketball hard against the wall with a dull thud. His troubles coiled around his heart like vines, tightening with every moment.
What exhausted him even more was that beyond this heavy trouble concerning the direction of the team's soul, there was another burden from his family—more realistic and more urgent, hanging over his head like the sword of Damocles: his father's illness.
The phone in his pocket vibrated once. Nijimura panted, wiped his face carelessly with a towel, and pulled out his phone. A message from his mother appeared on the screen, each word filled with fatigue and forced calm:
> "Shūzō, the doctor talked about your father's condition again today. The surgery... can't be delayed any longer. As for the expenses... Mom will find another way. Focus on your games and don't worry about home. Keep fighting. You're your father's pride."
Those few short lines struck Nijimura's heart like a thousand-pound boulder. The cost of the surgery... It was an astronomical figure that made a high school captain despair. His father was bedridden, while his mother struggled alone, already pushed beyond her limits. As the eldest son, he should have shouldered this family! But he... he was only a student who played basketball! What could he do? Apart from training desperately, leading Teikō to the championship, and using that meager prize money and future athletic scholarship to help shoulder a tiny part of the burden, what else could he do?
Under the cold lights of the gym, Nijimura Shūzō's tall figure seemed unbearably lonely. Sweat mixed with a deeper exhaustion as it slid from his resolute brow. On one side was a team on the verge of falling apart, its ideological conflict growing ever more intense. On the other was a precarious family desperately in need of his support. The Captain's Burden and the Eldest Son's Responsibility were like two invisible mountains, crushing him onto this late-night court.
He bent down and picked up the basketball again. This time, he did not charge toward the hoop. Instead, he stood where he was and repeated the most basic dribbling movements over and over. Left hand, right hand, between the legs, behind the back... The motions were mechanical and heavy. The sound of the basketball striking the floor echoed through the empty gym like the weighty beating of his heart.
How could he reconcile Akashi's cold "absolute" with the "team" cherished by Bai Ze You—and by his own heart? How could he pursue victory while protecting the last remaining warmth in Teikō Basketball? How could he lead the team toward the summit while raising the life-saving surgery fee for his gravely ill father?
His troubles were like dense fog, wrapping tightly around him. The Captain's Burden was so heavy at this moment that it nearly suffocated him. He raised his head toward the hoop hanging overhead, the goal symbolizing victory and glory. Under the pallid lights, it now seemed so distant and cold. Could he lead this team, gathered from the "Miracles," all the way to the end? Could he shoulder this mountain-like burden?
Nijimura Shūzō did not know the answer. The only thing he could do was keep slapping the basketball through near-self-tormenting basic drills in the dead of night, trying to use the monotonous sound to temporarily drive away the endless troubles and crushing helplessness in his heart. Sweat blurred his vision, but it could not blur the thorn-covered road shrouded in heavy fog ahead. The Captain's journey would be far more difficult than any battle on the court.
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