The match against Team Q had left Kaito humiliated. Once the ace, now reduced to a mere pawn—a tool for Kuroka's goals. It burned inside him like an unquenchable fire, an unbearable truth that clawed at his pride.
So he trained.
Every day. Every night.
While the rest of Team Z rested, Kaito pushed himself to his absolute limits. Sweat dripped down his face, his muscles ached, his vision blurred—but he refused to stop.
"I'm not going to stay in Kuroka's shadow forever."
Kaito always had strong spatial awareness—a trait inherited from his father, Yoichi Isagi. But now, he needed more than just instinct. He needed to refine it, sharpen it, evolve it.
He practiced tracking multiple players at once, forcing his eyes to analyze every movement, every shift in positioning.
He trained his reaction speed, forcing himself to predict passes and cut off angles before they even happened.
He visualized the entire field, mapping out possible plays in his mind before the ball even moved.
His mind accelerated, his vision became clearer. Kaito could now see the game unfold seconds ahead of everyone else—a skill that could rival even Kuroka's ruthless dominance.
One evening, as Kaito pushed himself through yet another brutal training session, Sora Himekawa appeared.
The two had been friends once. Allies. But now, Sora was nothing more than Kuroka's personal assister.
Sora watched Kaito struggle, arms crossed, expression cold.
Sora: "You should just pass to Kuroka."
The words hit Kaito like a thunderclap.
His fingers clenched into fists, his breath hitched. He turned to Sora, eyes burning with pure fury.
Kaito: "Say that again, you spineless dog."
Sora barely flinched.
Sora: "You heard me. You'll never be more than his pawn. Just accept it and play your role."
Kaito felt his entire body ignite with rage.
He wasn't going to be used. He wasn't going to be forgotten.
If Kuroka was the Tyrant King, then Kaito was going to be the one to dethrone him.
Fueled by Sora's words, Kaito doubled down on his training.
He practiced dribbling through impossible gaps, testing how quickly he could react and maneuver around defenders.
He focused on his final touch, perfecting his ability to strike without hesitation or wasted motion.
He stopped playing with hesitation. Every movement became sharp, every play became purposeful.
The Kaito who relied on teamwork was gone.
Now, there was only the Kaito who would take the game into his own hands.
As Kaito walked off the training field, exhausted but sharper than ever, he whispered to himself:
"Watch me, Kuroka."
"I won't be your pawn anymore."
The next match was coming.
And this time, Kaito wasn't going to follow anyone's lead.