Kuroko: Mahoraga - Chapter 67: Just Like Back Then! (Patreon)

Basketball has no shortage of exciting moments.

But few things get a crowd going like a true head-to-head battle.

The moment Masato brought the ball up to start Kawari's possession, the entire arena became alert.

Everyone knew that no matter which member of the Generation of Miracles he faced, the result would be explosive.

And sure enough, the play delivered exactly what the crowd wanted.

Against Masato's brutally efficient style, two members of the Generation of Miracles had been reduced to background scenery.

The moment that thunderous dunk echoed through the arena, the spectators could hardly believe what they had seen.

This was the first time most of them had ever watched the Generation of Miracles get punished so badly on a single play.

For many Teiko fans, it was almost unimaginable.

If someone had told them a few seconds earlier that this was about to happen, they would never have believed it.

The scene was so shocking that the entire arena fell silent for a moment.

Then the adrenaline hit.

Once everyone fully processed what had happened, the crowd could no longer hold back.

The arena erupted.

“Holy shit! What was that?!”

“That's insane. Is Masato really that strong?!”

“Yeah! People kept saying he's a Miracle-level player, but I didn't believe it!”

“He's ridiculous. Even Kise can't stop him!”

“Getting the better of Kise on the perimeter is one thing. He just posterized Murasakibara!”

“...”

The reaction was even louder than the one Kise's opening dunk had received.

The atmosphere inside the arena was fully alive now.

The two benches reacted very differently.

On Kawari's side, the players had absolute confidence in Masato.

Even against the Generation of Miracles, they had never doubted their captain.

The moment the dunk went in, towels went flying as everyone jumped up and celebrated.

Teiko's bench was more complicated.

Quite a few of the players there had always liked Masato.

When they saw him score, some of them instinctively started to clap.

Then they remembered that the two teams were opponents.

Several hands awkwardly stopped halfway.

The expressions on more than a few faces became strange.

Teiko's coach felt even more conflicted.

When Masato had decided to transfer, he had been deeply reluctant to let him go.

He had even tried to persuade Masato face-to-face.

But he had been able to tell that Masato's mind was already made up.

As Teiko's coach, he had seen more than enough geniuses to understand how difficult it was to change the mind of someone like that once they had reached a decision.

So he had not pushed much harder.

Then time passed, and Masato began making waves across the entire country.

That was when the regret truly set in.

He regretted not doing everything he could to keep him.

This was an elite talent.

And unlike the rest of Teiko's current stars, Masato had not even been developed under the previous coaching staff.

Yet he had let a player like that walk straight into someone else's hands.

Every time the coach thought about it, his chest hurt.

His gaze drifted toward Kawari's bench and landed on Masaki Nakamura.

The complexity in his eyes was impossible to hide.

Damn it. That lucky bastard really hit the jackpot.

Coach Nakamura was still shouting and celebrating with his players when he suddenly felt someone staring at him from Teiko's side.

He turned around.

The two coaches met eyes.

After one awkward second, both smiled and gave each other a polite nod.

The meaning behind those smiles could not have been more different.

...

Back on the court, Kise did not look happy.

He had confidently declared that he was going to beat Masato one-on-one.

Then Masato immediately threw those words back in his face.

For someone as proud as Kise, it was embarrassing enough to make his cheeks burn.

Worse yet, Kise's failed defense had allowed Masato to build up enough speed to posterize Murasakibara too.

He had not just failed himself.

He had dragged a teammate into the play with him.

Kise forced down the emotions churning inside him and glanced at Murasakibara, who was standing there with a blank expression.

“Hey, Murasakibara. That one's on me. Next time, I won't let him get inside.”

Kise thought Murasakibara was struggling to accept being dunked on.

He had completely misunderstood.

Murasakibara already knew how strong Masato was.

The possibility of Kise getting beaten on the perimeter had been within his expectations from the start.

He was simply spacing out, replaying the force of Masato's dunk in his head.

Only after Kise spoke did Murasakibara lazily scratch his hair.

“Huh? I don't really care. If Masa-chin gets in here again, I'll crush him next time.”

That was simply how Murasakibara was.

Until something truly ignited his competitive spirit, he reacted to almost everything with indifference.

But beneath that indifference was absolute confidence.

Kise felt much better after hearing it.

At least his mistake had not shaken his teammate.

In that case...

“Give me the ball, Murasakibara. I can't wait anymore.”

Murasakibara inbounded to him.

Kise looked toward Masato, his eyes sharpening.

Of course he had heard Masato's trash talk.

Sure, Kise had been the one to start it.

But Masato's response had been brutal.

What the hell did he mean, sub him out if he couldn't handle it?

The thought alone made Kise push the ball faster.

The moment he crossed half court, he did not wait for Masato to come to him.

Kise went straight at him.

There was no trace of his usual smile.

For Kise, that alone showed how focused he was.

He lowered his center of gravity and raised his off hand to protect the ball.

But he still did not attack immediately.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes.

“One basket doesn't prove anything. I'll show you how strong I am now.”

Then Kise moved.

He worked the ball between his legs, switching hands with a smooth, flowing rhythm.

Without warning, he exploded to the right.

He was so fast that anyone who blinked at the wrong moment would have been beaten cleanly.

Masato slid into his path almost the instant Kise started moving.

Kise was not surprised.

He had expected that much.

His style changed instantly.

The loose, flowing rhythm disappeared.

In its place came a crisp, stripped-down style that looked remarkably similar to the way Masato had played before acquiring [Bible].

Kise spun through contact, deliberately bumping Masato as he turned.

Using the rebound force from the collision, he accelerated again.

Even that was not enough to escape Masato's defensive range.

Just as Masato closed the gap again, Kise changed styles a second time.

Now he became even looser than before, moving with the lightness of a rabbit breaking free.

But instead of driving all the way to the rim, he slammed on the brakes.

His shoes shrieked against the floor.

Kise rose straight into a jumper.

For the first time all possession, the tension on his face eased and a smile appeared.

He thought he had won the exchange.

Then a long arm came flying in from the side.

Kise's heart jumped.

He released the ball in a hurry.

The moment it left his fingers, his brow furrowed.

The rhythm had been completely wrong.

He watched the ball nervously.

Even Kise had no idea whether it would fall.

The shot bounced twice on the rim.

Then it dropped.

“Swish!”

Kise let out a breath.

But the relief killed whatever joy he might have felt from scoring.

His expression turned serious as he stared at Masato.

He had not expected Masato's defense to be this suffocating.

There had not been a single moment to breathe.

Kise said nothing and turned to run back.

Masato showed no frustration at all.

Instead, the corner of his mouth slowly lifted.

“So that's what you've added. Not bad.”

Kise had genuinely impressed him.

In a single possession, he had shifted between three completely different styles.

And this was not just about changing appearances.

Each style carried a completely different rhythm.

Rhythm was one of the most important things in offense.

Control the rhythm, and more often than not, you controlled the possession.

Still, Masato did not think it was enough.

He had already figured out where most of Kise's recent improvement had come from.

His biggest gains were physical.

As for his copying talent, he had simply learned a new way to use it.

It looked impressive, but it was not a true evolution.

...

When possession changed again, Masato looked at Kise and decided he was done testing him slowly.

He wanted to widen the gap while he still had the chance.

The bigger the cushion he built now, the more room Kawari would have for mistakes later.

Masato attacked immediately.

He did not possess Kise's endless variety of styles.

But having fewer options did not mean being weaker.

Sometimes, absolute mastery of one path was even more frightening.

Every movement Masato made had a clear purpose.

He did nothing that reduced his efficiency.

Combined with the stability of [Core Control], he kept forcing Kise into physical contact.

For a while, Kise was completely on the back foot defensively.

His expression grew more serious with every possession.

At least on offense, he could still throw everything he had back at Masato.

The first quarter raced forward under that rhythm.

Their back-and-forth battle drove the atmosphere in the arena to a fever pitch.

Then, at some point, the matchup began slipping out of control.

Kise's offense suddenly stopped working.

Every route he tried was countered.

Every move seemed to be read in advance.

A gap began to open up on the scoreboard.

5-5.

12-9.

22-15.

Kawari was pulling ahead.

Spectators stared in disbelief, some even grabbing their heads as they shouted.

But nobody felt more pressure than Kise.

Cold sweat ran down his face.

He knew this feeling.

He knew it far too well.

This moment was exactly like back then.

It was as though he were standing naked in front of Masato with everything exposed.

His body was drenched in sweat from the game, yet a chill ran down his spine.

Why was it happening this fast?

Kise's expression turned ugly.

For the first time in a long while, he began doubting himself.

What had all that training actually improved?

Why was the gap between them getting wider instead of smaller?

The negative emotions began affecting his defense.

On Masato's next drive, Kise barely offered any resistance before being beaten cleanly.

Masato looked toward Murasakibara inside.

This time, he had no intention of forcing another collision.

He stopped and rose for a jumper.

“Swish!”

Two points.

With that basket, Kawari's lead was on the verge of reaching double digits.

The arena erupted.

Masato looked at the dazed Kise and spoke calmly.

“Kise, you've improved. But this still isn't enough.”

Then he turned away.

Across the court, Daiki Aomine, who had barely involved himself since the game began, watched the scene with eyes that were slowly growing brighter.

Then the whistle sounded.

Teiko had called a timeout.