The iron law of "Absolute Victory" was like an invisible shackle, weighing heavily on every member of the Teikō Basketball Club. Akashi Seijūrō's cold gaze and commands precise to the millisecond had completely reshaped Teikō's daily life. Training was no longer a stage where sweat and passion intertwined. It had become a cold, precision-driven workshop that pursued maximum efficiency. Under such pressure, the players' individuality was forcibly suppressed. The air on the court seemed to have solidified into lead, and every breath carried a stifling heaviness.
The first practice match against an outside school of the new semester became a test of Akashi's new regime. Their opponent was Meisei Academy, a traditional powerhouse from Kansai. The game was held on Teikō's home court.
Yet the course of the game left Teikō's supporters feeling something unprecedented... strange and cold.
Teikō won, and it was a crushing victory.
The enormous gap on the scoreboard—102:68—was enough to prove Teikō's terrifying dominance.
But the content of the game was completely different from the "Teikō basketball" of the Captain Nijimura era, when passion, individual talent, and teamwork had complemented one another in dazzling harmony.
* Aomine Daiki: He could still tear through defenses with terrifying explosiveness and Wildness First Sense, but every choice he made on a drive had become extremely "reasonable." His imaginative, freewheeling Extreme Layups and baffling shots had vanished. In their place were the most efficient and reliable finishes possible—either a direct layup or dunk at the rim, or a pass to a completely open teammate after drawing a double-team. His expression was no longer the wild joy of enjoying a drive. Instead, it carried the irritation of someone bound by rules, along with a suppressed, vicious edge.
* Midōrima Shintarō: His three-pointer remained a lethal weapon, but his release points had become "safer." He no longer attempted difficult threes that required extreme fadeaways or drifting shots. He only shot from completely open positions that he considered properly calculated and minimally contested. Every shot was like the operation of a precision instrument—cold, accurate, and utterly devoid of spectacle. He pushed up his glasses noticeably more often, as if checking that every movement met the standard of "Absolute Correctness."
* Murasaki-bara Atsushi: He remained an unstoppable beast beneath the basket, but his enthusiasm for defensive rebounds and boxing out seemed to have waned. He focused only on blocking shots that challenged the paint and casually finishing passes from his teammates. He showed little interest in help defense and scrambles outside his "comfort zone," yawning with a languid gaze. Only when Akashi's cold eyes swept over him did he slightly perk up.
* Kise Ryōta: His talent for imitation remained dazzling, but the objects and goals of his imitation had subtly changed. He was no longer obsessed with imitating Aomine's flashy drives or Midōrima's long-distance threes. Instead, he imitated basic, practical passing lanes and defensive positions with the lowest possible turnover rate. His smile remained radiant, but deep in his eyes was an added trace of confusion and formulaic exhaustion.
* Kuroko Tetsuya: His "Phantom Pass" remained elusive, but his choices had become extremely "safe" and "efficient." He passed only to teammates who had an absolute grasp on scoring—Aomine and Midōrima—or made risk-free transitional passes intended to disrupt the opponent's offensive rhythm. His imaginative, daring assists that required a high degree of coordination and trust from his teammates had vanished completely. He was like a component in a precision machine, silently carrying out his task.
Teikō's entire offense was like a precision instrument running on a preset program. Every pass pursued the shortest route and lowest risk; every shot ensured maximum efficiency and the greatest possible certainty; every defensive play was as rigorous as a textbook, sealing every possible gap and giving the opponent not the slightest chance to rely on "luck." Flashy individual performances? Perfectly synchronized teamwork? Passionate fast-break counterattacks? They had all disappeared without a trace. All that remained was a cold, efficient victory formula, as precise as a scalpel yet enough to make one drowsy.
The cheers from the stands gradually thinned out, replaced by an eerie silence. Teikō's supporters exchanged glances. They had won the game, yet it felt as though they had lost something more important. That "Teikō charm" that made people's blood race and drove them wild seemed to be replaced by the cold program called "Absolute Victory."
Bai Ze You sat on the bench, watching everything unfold on the court with a deeply furrowed brow. His fingers turned the basketball unconsciously. The familiar feel of leather brushed his fingertips, yet it could not calm the turmoil in his heart.
He had taken the court as well. Under Akashi's arrangement, he replaced Kise for a while. When he held the ball against a defender, he instinctively wanted to use his signature deceptive Fake Move and supple midair evasion techniques. However, Akashi's cold voice seemed to echo right beside his ear: "The movement is too large, creating a risk of being stripped. Choose a more direct, efficient driving route or pass the ball."
Once, during a fast break, Bai Ze You used his signature consecutive between-the-legs crossover into a behind-the-back dribble to send an opposing defender tumbling. The motion was smooth and dazzling, prompting even Kise on the bench to let out an involuntary, "Beautiful!" Only one final help defender remained between him and the basket, which was right within reach. Following his usual style, he would have used an airborne switch-hand layup to toy with his opponent, or an Extreme floater to avoid the block.
But the instant he jumped, Akashi's cold gaze from the sidelines stabbed toward him like a tangible force! Akashi's iron law of "discarding every unnecessary risk" flashed through Bai Ze You's mind. He forcibly suppressed his body's instincts, abandoned the more spectacular yet slightly riskier layup, and chose the safest underhand layup.
The ball went in. The points counted.
The efficiency was high, and the risk was zero.
But after landing, Bai Ze You felt no joy at scoring. There was only an indescribable emptiness and suffocation in his chest. It was as if his throat had been forcibly clamped shut, leaving him unable to make a sound of his own.
"Yū, that crossover just now was beautiful! Too bad about the finish..." Momoi Satsuki quietly handed him some water during the timeout and spoke softly, a trace of regret and concern in her eyes. She had keenly caught Bai Ze You's momentary hesitation and abandonment of his instincts.
Bai Ze You accepted the water without speaking and tipped his head back for a sip. The cool water slid down his throat, but it could not extinguish the fire in his heart called "Crisis of Meaning." He watched his teammates execute Akashi's Orders like puppets on strings; he watched Aomine's suppressed irritation, Midōrima's cold calculations, Murasaki-bara's languid perfunctoriness, Kise's formulaic imitation, and Kuroko's silent cooperation...
Was this really basketball?
For the sake of victory, did they truly have to sacrifice all passion, creativity, and the joy that belonged to basketball itself?
The "enjoy the game," "trust your teammates," and "play in your own style" that Captain Nijimura had taught them—were they, in Akashi's eyes, all obstacles standing in the way of "Absolute Victory"?
"Yū." Akashi's voice interrupted Bai Ze You's thoughts. He had reached the edge of the bench at some point, his red eyes calmly fixed on Bai Ze You. "That was the correct scoring choice just now. Remember, on the road to 'Absolute Victory,' stability and efficiency come before all individual performances. Unnecessary flourishes only increase the risk of mistakes and give the opponent an opening."
Akashi's tone was calm, even carrying a hint of "approval," but the content of his words was like a cold carving knife, cutting with precision into Bai Ze You's heart.
Bai Ze You raised his head and looked directly into Akashi's unfathomably deep red eyes. He saw Absolute Rationality, an obsession with victory, and the will to control everything. Yet the one thing he could not see was any trace of love for basketball itself.
"Captain," Bai Ze You's voice was calm, but it carried unprecedented seriousness and doubt. "Is basketball only about 'winning'? Those drives that make our blood race, those imaginative passes, those shots that challenge the limits... aren't they also part of basketball? If winning means giving up all of that and making the game as cold as... as solving a math problem, then what meaning does victory itself have?"
Bai Ze You's words were like a stone cast into a stagnant pool, sending silent ripples through the repressed space beside the bench. Aomine Daiki suddenly raised his head, a flash of powerful agreement in his eyes. Midōrima's hand paused as he pushed up his glasses. Even Murasaki-bara stopped yawning and looked toward Bai Ze You in surprise. Kise opened and closed his mouth, his expression complicated. A ripple also stirred in Kuroko Tetsuya's calm blue eyes.
Momoi Satsuki's heart leaped into her throat. She watched Akashi nervously, her fingers gripping the edge of her clipboard.
Akashi Seijūrō's expression did not change at all, as if Bai Ze You's question were merely a breeze brushing past his ear. His red eyes were like the most precise instrument, examining Bai Ze You. Only after a moment did he slowly speak, his voice still cold and utterly flat:
"Meaning?"
"Victory itself is the greatest meaning, and the only meaning."
"Yū, your question has exposed how shallow and weak your understanding of 'Absolute Victory' is."
"Flashiness? Passion? Fun?" The corner of Akashi's mouth lifted in an exceedingly faint, exceedingly cold curve, carrying the detached indifference of someone looking down from above. "Those are nothing more than excuses for the weak to console themselves with after defeat, and useless burdens that the strong must discard on the road to the summit."
"Teikō needs neither excuses nor burdens. Teikō needs only victory—absolute victory."
"Your duty is not to question 'meaning,' but to use every talent you possess to carry it out and achieve it."
"Put away those pointless fantasies about 'Basketball Aesthetics.' Before Teikō's iron law, they are beneath consideration."
"Next time you take the court, I expect to see choices that are more efficient and more 'correct.' Otherwise, your position is not irreplaceable."
Akashi's words were like a final judgment, cold and cruel, completely blocking the path Bai Ze You had tried to open for communication. He no longer looked at Bai Ze You. Turning away, he walked toward the court and continued directing the game as if the conversation had never happened.
Bai Ze You stood where he was, his fingers sinking deeply into the basketball's leather. Akashi's words were ice spikes driven into his heart, bringing sharp pain and an even deeper chill. He watched Akashi's back, the red captain's armband glaring beneath the lights. For the first time, he clearly felt that an unfathomably deep chasm stretched between him and Akashi. On one side was the basketball faith he regarded as his life, filled with passion and creativity. On the other was the cold, merciless iron law in Akashi's eyes, where victory alone reigned supreme.
Momoi Satsuki wrote on her clipboard with a faintly trembling hand:
**"Observation Record: Ideological Ice Age"** **"Core Conflict: Bai Ze (Essence of Basketball: Passion/Creativity/Fun) vs. Akashi (Essence of Basketball: Efficiency/Victory/Absolute)"** **"Akashi's Attitude: Ideological Suppression, One and Only Path (Absolute Victory), Refusal to Communicate"** **"Bai Ze's State: Faith Shaken, Ideological Isolation, Deep Doubt (Crisis of Meaning)"** **"Team Impact: Intensifying Pressure, Suppressed Individuality, Creativity Frozen (All Members)..."** **"Risk Warning: SS (Core Rift Irreconcilable, Potential Explosion Point!)"**
The game drew to a close amid Teikō's cold, efficient rhythm. The spectators left with complicated emotions. Amid the cheers of victory seemed to be an indescribable sense of loss.
Bai Ze You did not return to the locker room with his teammates. He remained alone in the empty gym, where most of the lights had already gone out. Standing on the free-throw line, he picked up the basketball. He did not shoot. He only dribbled over and over with complete focus. Between his legs, behind his back, spinning, stopping short... Every movement strove for perfection, filled with fluid strength and a unique rhythm.
In this way, he fought against Akashi's cold theory of "correctness." In this way, he reaffirmed the most primal and pure love for basketball in his heart. The "thump, thump" of the basketball striking the floor echoed through the silent gym, lonely and persistent, like a heart unwilling to submit, stubbornly beating beneath the cold iron law.
The banner of victory flew high, but the ice of ideology had already begun to freeze Teikō's heart.
Bai Ze You's doubt was like the first stone cast into a frozen lake. It did not yet stir a raging storm, but it already foretold the turbulent undercurrent beneath the ice.
Akashi's iron curtain of "Absolute Victory" had fallen, but the White Phantom's dance steps would never sink into a cold formula.
The war of ideologies had begun silently, yet it had already penetrated to the bone. Beneath the brilliance at its peak, the foundation of the Teikō Dynasty had quietly split open with an unfathomably deep crack.
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