Kaijo High Players' hearts sank as they found themselves powerless in the face of their dire circumstances.
Any glimmer of hope they clung to had vanished.
Helplessly, they shifted their gaze toward Fukuda Sogo's players, feeling the weight of an unseen force pressing down on them. It was as if an invisible hand was tightening around their throats, squeezing the life out of them with each passing moment.
In the midst of this suffocating tension, Takeuchi could only release a weary sigh. His eyes, filled with resignation, scanned the unfolding disaster.
With just a few minutes remaining until the referee's decisive whistle, Takeuchi glanced at the scoreboard, revealing the dismal score of 128-75.
Another heavy sigh escaped him.
They couldn't even scrape together a single point in this quarter.
The air was thick with despair, and the team's predicament seemed insurmountable.
"Tsuna's really going all out..." Alexandra couldn't help but sympathize with their struggling opponents.
Honestly, she never thought much of Japanese basketball to begin with. While the Generation of Miracles did surprise her, living up to Tsuna's hype, she couldn't help but feel they were still no match for him on the current stage.
Glancing over at Tsuna, she shook her head, "And he hasn't even pulled out all the stops yet."
"He probably won't even need those eyes of his," she added, observing the defeated expressions on the Kaijo players' faces.
For Alexandra, Tsuna's sheer skill in handling his opponents made him a formidable force. She was convinced that his tactics alone could crush most teams in Japan, without even tapping into whatever those mysterious eyes of his could do.
"Man, they're getting totally wrecked."
Kotaro expressed his sympathy.
"Looks like Kaijo High was just riding on Ryota Kise's skills. Without him, they're just a bunch of losers..." Though it might seem a bit harsh, he labeled them as losers, considering their one-sided beatdown.
However, Mibuchi, with a gentle shake of his head, responded to Kotaro's comment.
"It's not that Kaijo High was garbage; it's just that their opponent is on a whole other level," he mused, casting a careful glance at Tsuna's dominating presence on the court.
Mibuchi then shifted his attention to Akashi, remarking in his mind, "Seems like he saw this coming..."
"I guess it takes a monster to spot another one..."
A heavy sigh escaped him as he stood there, feeling dwarfed by these giants. The Kaijo High players weren't slouches; there was a reason they were counted among the favorites for the Winter Cup.
Yet, in the presence of Tsunayoshi Kazama, they seemed like amateurs being toyed with. It was as if Tsuna was playing a strategic game, akin to Akashi's shogi-like approach.
"Two peas in a pod," Mibuchi muttered, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead.
The thought crossed his mind that perhaps their upbringing as heirs to conglomerate families had something to do with their shared, calculated approach to the game.
Meanwhile, in the midst of the crowd, Kuroko clenched his fist, his expression darkening into a frown.
The unfolding game brought back memories of Teiko, where they effortlessly played with their opponents. Despite knowing that Tsuna wasn't toying with Kaijo High, but simply displaying his playing style, Kuroko couldn't shake off the frustration.
"...Kise," he muttered, eyes fixed on the sorrow etched across Kise's face on the court.
His frown deepened as he detected the haunting shadow of Teiko's opponents in the past, glancing at the hollow expressions worn by the Kaijo High players.
The rest of the Seirin players watched the ongoing game, beads of sweat forming on their faces.
The intensity of the match wasn't lost on any of them.
They had always known that Fukuda Sogo's captain was a formidable opponent. But witnessing the merciless way they were dismantling Kaijo High brought a chilling realization—it was their true nature.
"...I remember him having a good time with Murasakibara not too long ago. I thought he was a decent guy," Hyuga muttered to himself.
"..."
The gymnasium, now hushed with pity for Kaijo, amplified his quiet words, making them audible to everyone in Seirin.
"Guess Murasakibara was a special case," Kiyoshi sighed in response.
Reflecting on it, Kiyoshi noted that Fukuda Sogo's opponents, without exception, ended up wearing the same hollow expression once they grasped the futility of their efforts to avoid a crushing defeat.
"Except for Yosen High, where Fukuda Sogo's captain had some fun with Murasakibara, the others all ended up just like Kaijo," Kiyoshi remarked.
As they watched the ongoing match, a collective concern lingered among them.
Would they, too, end up like Kaijo?
Throughout the tournament, they had carried a confidence, but for the first time, doubt crept in, casting a shadow over their certainty.
Back on the court, frustration etched across Kise's face, he tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth – a result of biting his lips too hard.
The intensity of the moment didn't deter him, though.
Dribbling the ball defensively, Kise maneuvered around the court with Tsuna's figure hot on his heels, mirroring his every move in a seamless dance.
Amid the game's intensity, Kise couldn't help but steal glances at his teammates.
Their eyes had lost all color, resembling lifeless orbs, a visual testament to the pressure bearing down on them.
"....Goddammit! Why? Why!? Just Why!!"
Kise couldn't contain his frustration, and the words escaped his lips as he continued to dribble.
"..."
Tsuna, however, remained nonchalant, seemingly impervious to Kise's outburst. He understood that Kise's exclamation was not a question directed at him.
In a calculated move, Tsuna sharply closed in.
With a swift strike, he disrupted the rhythm of the ball in Kise's hand, snatching it away with precision. Immediately, Tsuna burst forward, taking possession of the ball and leaving Kise momentarily stunned.
Despite the gnawing despair chewing at his soul, Kise summoned the strength to react.
Tsuna slowed down his pace momentarily. This brief respite allowed Kise to gather himself, although the despair lingered beneath the surface.
Tsuna, however, was quick to adapt. With a sudden change in dribbling speed, he left Kise gritting his teeth in frustration.
Even in the heightened state of Perfect Copy, Kise found it challenging to match Tsuna's newfound pace.
As Tsuna smoothly executed a sharp crossover, Kise bravely mirrored the move, only to realize his body had betrayed him, losing balance.
The court seemed to shift beneath him as Tsuna suddenly made a step back.
Startled and off-balance, Kise struggled to find his footing, knowing deep down how pointless it was.
His gaze stayed glued to Tsuna's composed form as he smoothly moved into a shooting stance.
However, Tsuna's gaze didn't meet the basket; instead, it bore down on Kise. Locked in that intense stare, Kise felt a chilling coldness penetrating his soul, and he couldn't help but voice out his question once more, weakly...
"Why..."
"...am I so weak?"
The only answer he got was the swish of the ball sinking through the basket, even though Tsuna hadn't bothered to look at it while shooting.
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