As the team bus pulled into the lot outside the tournament gym, Taro glanced out the window. Players from other schools milled about, some laughing with teammates, others testing their shooting form with imaginary balls. Bright banners hung above the entrance, announcing the Interhigh Regional Tournament, the first step toward proving themselves as the best team in Tokyo. The words carried a weight that couldn't be ignored.
"Alright, everyone out," Coach Hurley called from the front of the bus. He didn't wait for a response, already stepping down with his notebook tucked under one arm. The team rose as one, grabbing their bags and filing out into the cool spring air.
The gym loomed large, its glass-paneled entrance reflecting the morning sun. Rin led the way as if she owned the place, her eyes already scanning the surroundings. She closed in on the game schedule to find what court and what time they were playing before calling out to the team.
"Let's move, people!" she barked, her usual blend of confidence and urgency.
Inside, the gym was alive with activity. Two games were already in progress on separate courts, sneakers squeaking on polished floors as players darted back and forth. The sound of coaches yelling instructions blended with the referee's whistles and sporadic cheers from the stands. The air carried a mix of sweat and the faint aroma of snacks from a concession stand run by students in the corner. Onita high followed after Rin as she lead them to the court they were supposed to play on before stopping on one of the baselines.
Toa Tokuchi leaned slightly toward Taro, his voice low but dripping with sarcasm. "Check it out," he said, nodding toward the other side of the court. Senshinkan High's players were stretching in a neat row on their side of the baseline, their dull green uniforms standing out in the gym. "Huh, puke green. Who thought that was a good idea? Did their school lose a bet or are they just color blind?"
Taro smirked but kept his focus on his stretches. "It's certainly bold."
"It's awful," Tokuchi replied, shaking his head. "Compare that to our badass grey and white. We look ready to kick ass. They look like they're here to hand out a win to us."
Rin, walking a few steps ahead, stopped to glance toward Senshinkan. She opened her mouth to respond, then caught herself and cleared her throat. "Okay, fine, the uniforms are... uninspired," she admitted reluctantly. "But unless we're winning points for fashion, let's move on."
She gestured toward their baseline, opposite Senshinkan. "Stretch and run laps here. Stay sharp. Coach will brief us in the locker room 45 minutes before tipoff."
As the team spread out along the baseline, Taro planted his feet and leaned into a deep stretch, letting the tension ease from his legs. Around him, his team jogged short sprints or were stretching. On the other end of the court, Senshinkan mirrored their movements, their players occasionally glancing over with expressions that ranged from mild curiosity to quiet confidence.
Taro caught one Senshinkan player staring his way, a lean forward with sharp eyes. The guy gave the faintest smirk before turning back to his stretches. Taro exhaled, shaking out his arms. Let them stare. He was ready.
"Do you think they've been watching us?" Hachiman asked, his voice breaking the silence as he fumbled with a hamstring stretch. "Like, analyzing every warmup move? I mean, not that I'm giving them much to work with."
Toa laughed quietly. "If they're analyzing you, Hachiman, they must be desperate."
Hachiman straightened from his stretch as he replied. "Or maybe I'm just so unpredictable that I've got them confused. Keep them guessing, right?"
Rin turned sharply. "Focus, Hachiman. The game is starting soon, and we'll need you at your best."
Hachiman nodded for a couple of seconds before freezing mid-stretch, his brow furrowing. "Wait, what? My best? What does that even mean? Am I supposed to do something extra this time?"
He straightened, looking toward Rin, but she was already walking toward the locker room and offering no further explanation.
"Hey, hold on!" Hachiman called after her, glancing around at his teammates. "What's she talking about? Did I miss something?"
Toa chuckled, shaking his head. "You'll figure it out eventually, genius. Maybe."
Hachiman groaned, falling onto the floor. "Great. Nothing like vague motivational speeches to boost the nerves."
Taro shifted into another stretch as he nodded, his gaze flicking briefly to the ongoing game on the court. It was... underwhelming, to say the least. One team was flailing against a weak zone defense, barely managing to dribble without losing control. The other seemed to have forgotten what passing was entirely, with one guy attempting to play one-on-five every possession. A few spectators had already wandered off, either out of boredom or second-hand embarrassment.
Taro exhaled through his nose, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. This was nothing like what he'd imagined an anime world would be. Where were the flashy, over-the-top moves? The dramatic power-ups mid-game? The dramatic conversations that seemed to take minutes in the span of a second? Instead, he was staring at a messy, uninspired display of basketball. The reality of it was almost amusing in a way this wasn't some larger-than-life sports showdown. It was just high school basketball, with all of its highs and lows.
But that didn't mean Ōnita's game would be the same. Taro felt the weight of his own expectations settling back in. If this was what the bar looked like, they were about to clear it with room to spare.
Still, he couldn't shake what he knew about the world he had landed in. Kuroko no Basket wasn't just about basketball; it was about a game that defied the very rules of reality. Shots that seemed to ignore physics, players moving with superhuman speed and precision, and moments where sheer willpower could completely change the outcome of a match. He understood the levels of crazy this world could reach, and it was clear this basic level wouldn't last for long. In the other tournament block, the Generation of Miracles were already waiting, and beyond them, outside of Japan, players like Nash and Silver existed. These were players who could transform a simple game into something straight out of a superhero movie. And the NBA?? If high school basketball in this world was this intense, he could only imagine the chaos and brilliance that awaited at the professional level.
Taro flexed his fingers absentmindedly, the thought making his stomach tighten. Was he ready for that kind of game? He'd faced Kise and Kagami already and held his own. But he knew that was before they truly leveled up, before the matches became something out of a different universe entirely. He hadn't faced the real monsters yet, not even close.
Taro thought, I might lose to the Generation of Miracles someday. The thought wasn't a concession but a quiet acknowledgment of the towering talent this world held. Players like them operated on a level that seemed almost impossible. Someday, he might face opponents who could truly test him, who might even beat him.
He glanced at the ongoing game on the court, where a guard attempted a dribble with no defender in sight, only to lose control and accidentally kick the ball. It rolled toward Taro, stopping just short of his feet. The player froze, his face flushing with embarrassment as he scrambled after it, trying to stop the ball before it went out of bounds but falling short.
Taro bent down, palming the ball, and straightened in one fluid motion. His lips curled into a smile not friendly, but sharp and sinister as his eyes locked onto the guard who had just dropped the ball. The intensity of Taro's gaze made the player falter, his steps slowing until he froze entirely, uncertainty flashing across his face.
Without breaking eye contact, Taro delivered a chest pass toward a referee jogging in from midcourt. The ball zipped through the air with precision, striking the ref squarely in the chest almost too quickly for him to react. The ref stumbled slightly before catching it, blinking in surprise as he glanced back at Taro.
But that day won't be today, he thought, the weight of the moment honing itself into deadly focus.
Fifteen minutes later, the team gathered in the locker room. The air was thick with focus and anticipation, the quiet hum of pre-game tension settling over them. Uniforms were on, sneakers laced tight, and everyone was warmed up. No one spoke. They didn't need to Coach Hurley's presence at the front of the room demanded silence.
Hurley stood with his notebook resting on the bench beside him, finishing off a Red Bull with his usual pre-game ritual. The sound of the can crunching in his hand broke the silence, a small but familiar signal to the team that it was time to lock in.
"Alright, listen up. In case any of you forgot, these are the rules of the prelims" he began, his voice steady but sharp enough to cut through the quiet. "This is Round 1. Starting strong isn't just important, it's mandatory. We're in the regional tournament for Tokyo, Group D. There are five rounds, then a semifinal and final. Win today, and we're one step closer to the Interhigh. Lose? It's over. No second chances."
He paced slowly as he spoke, his footsteps deliberate, his eyes locking on each player in turn. "Our first matchup is against Senshinkan High. You've all heard the hype 'one of the Three Kings of Tokyo.'" He paused, letting the words linger before smirking faintly. "Hilarious, isn't it? Because when people talk about the top teams, they don't mention Ōnita High. They act like we don't exist."
Hurley stopped pacing, standing firm as his voice rose slightly, the fire in his tone now unmistakable. "Never mind that we've beaten some of those so-called top teams. Never mind that we're better than half the schools that get handed praise on a silver platter. Today, we're going to change all that. We're going to change their entire reputation. When we walk out of here, they'll be the ones explaining why they couldn't hold a candle to us."
He glanced at the players, his words settling in. "This isn't just about moving to the next round. This is about making a statement. Every dribble, every pass, every point you show them exactly who Ōnita High is. Now get your heads in the game. It's time to handle business."
Keisuke Kobayashi let out a quiet chuckle, and a few others followed, the tension in the room easing slightly.
"Now, let's get to the strategy," Hurley continued, motioning to his notebook. Rin stepped forward and started speaking.
"Senshinkan runs a fast, run-and-gun style offense," Rin said, her tone brisk and efficient. "They'll push the tempo, take quick shots, and shoot quickly. On defense, they use a 1-3-1 zone. That means one player in the paint, three spread across the middle, and one at the top. Their goal is to pressure the ball carrier and force mistakes. But that leaves the paint vulnerable."
She glanced down at her clipboard, flipping to her notes. "They didn't manage to recruit any standout talent this year, and their old ace graduated, so we're not expecting anything special individually. Even so, they're well-coached. They run their plays quickly, with no confusion, and they'll capitalize on any hesitation or mistakes we make. Sloppiness will cost us. Stay sharp."
Coach Hurley pointed to Hachiman. "Hachiman, your energy is going to be crucial on defense. Stick to their shooters like glue, disrupt their rhythm, and keep up the pressure. You've got the stamina to run circles around them today, you are going to use it."
Hachiman nodded, his usual cynicism giving way to a rare spark of determination. "I'll make sure they regret every possession."
"Good," Hurley said, turning to Kobayashi. "Captain, their guards will double-team whoever brings up the ball. That means your control is going to be the key to breaking them down. Keep your cool, look for the gaps, and exploit their weak paint coverage."
Kobayashi gave a sharp nod. "Leave it to me."
Hurley's gaze shifted to Taro. "Taro, I want you planted right in the middle of their zone. That's your spot. Score the easy points when they show up, but if they collapse on you, swing the ball to an open teammate. Rukawa, stay active in the mid-range and three-point range, I want you ready to punish them if they sag off. And Shin, keep moving along the baseline. Be ready to receive the dump pass and finish strong at the hoop."
He turned to the captain. "Kobayashi, you're bringing the ball up every possession. I want the other two wings spaced out to give you options. Taro, you're the anchor in the middle, and Shin, you're always by the baseline. We're running a pseudo-triangle offense with Taro as the focal point. If they shift their zone, the wings can cut inside. When that happens, Kobayashi, you'll rotate to a wing position, the cutter fills the other wing spot, and the other wing moves to the top. Keep the ball moving and keep them scrambling."
Hurley's tone hardened as he scanned the room. "This isn't a game to overcomplicate things. Execute these movements, exploit the gaps in their defense, and let them make the mistakes."
He stepped back, his eyes shifting to Keisuke Kobayashi. "Captain, take it from here."
Kobayashi nodded, rising from the bench. His usual demeanor was replaced by something heavier, more resolute. He took a slow breath, his gaze steady as he addressed the team.
"This is my last year," he began, his voice even but carrying an edge of emotion. "My last chance to make this count. I'm not losing this year. Not today, not in the finals, not anywhere in between." His words hit hard the sound echoing through the team.
For the briefest moment, his eyes flicked toward Taro, a glance so quick that no one else seemed to notice. Taro caught it, though, the weight of that unspoken message settling squarely on his shoulders.
Kobayashi straightened, extending a hand toward the center of the circle. "Arms in."
The team rose as one, reaching forward to pile their hands over his. Kobayashi's voice rang out, clear and commanding. "Onita on three."
"One, two, three ONITA!"
The team's shout echoed in the small locker room, reverberating like the opening note of a symphony. Hurley nodded in approval and motioned toward the door. "It's time to show them who we are."