Chapter 107: Finally, I Don’t Have to See You All Anymore

Words : 1170 Updated : Oct 5th, 2025

This is a sponsored chapter, thank you Lucifer! /// "You're slacking off again, Tendou!" Momoi came over, bored, and plopped down next to Tendou. "I'm the captain. It's my duty to supervise their training." "You're totally slacking!" "This is the game of power!" "..." Momoi rolled her eyes helplessly. He didn't even bother denying it. She couldn't help but try to persuade him. "When Nijimura-senpai was captain, he trained seriously too." "That's because the previous captain didn't know how to use his power properly. I'm different. I'll fully utilize it to its rightful extent." What rightful extent? Just admit you're lazy! Sometimes talking to these boys was exhausting. Aomine was impossible to reason with — all brawn, no brain. But Tendou? He'd talk circles around you until you forgot what you were even trying to say. He could talk so much! Last time, if she hadn't been strong-willed, she would've forgotten what she was even there for. "Don't worry, Momoi. I'm the strongest." "Ugh, you're saying that again." And yet... that's exactly why she worried about all of them. She handed Tendou a packet of documents — information she'd collected on the Generation of Miracles over the past few weeks. Even though the boys were progressing so fast it'd soon become outdated, she still felt it was better to contribute what she could. She was going to beat the Generation of Miracles! "It's info on Aomine and the others. Now you and I are on the same team!" They crouched on the sidelines, sneakily observing — it almost looked like they were plotting something. The players on court were definitely getting weirded out. Tendou didn't really need the documents. His eyes were more useful than any report. Still, he took them anyway and flipped through them like gossip magazines. "Oh, so Aomine hates green peppers? What a picky little guy. No wonder he always fails his tests." "It's true, it's true. His mom used to try stuffing them into his mouth when he was little and he'd refuse every time. He's been fussy since forever." Aomine's forehead twitched with a visible vein. Momoi, what kind of stuff are you writing down!? "Huh? He was that dark even as a kid? I thought it was just from playing basketball all the time. Don't tell me he has African ancestry?" "You're talking nonsense!" Aomine couldn't keep up his cool façade anymore and chucked the ball at Tendou. "Stop babbling. Come play a round if you've got so much time!" Tendou caught the ball — and casually tossed it to Akashi. "Go play with Akashi first." "I'm not your kind of player," Akashi said with a soft smile as he caught the ball, calmly turning him down. But compared to before, that smile was much colder. Aomine's gaze shifted to Akashi. Even though he wasn't there the day it happened, he could still keenly sense that Akashi had changed. He'd gotten stronger — and colder. As for Akashi, he wasn't fazed by Aomine's aggressive aura at all. Instead, his attention was entirely on Tendou. Victory was his only purpose — whether it was over enemies or teammates. It had to be total domination. He knew his awakened teammates' abilities inside out — all within the realm of control. Except for Tendou. Those eyes of his... Akashi couldn't read them. So far, all they knew was that Tendou had 360-degree vision with no blind spots, and his physical capabilities had reached absurd new heights. But those weren't natural improvements — it was like his entire body had undergone a sudden transformation. It was more like his control over his body had become perfect. Akashi guessed that was likely another power of those mysterious eyes. "'Monster,' 'Six Eyes,' 'Cleave'... all of those describe him." "There's definitely more to it — I just haven't uncovered it yet." So just like Tendou, Akashi decided not to reveal the full extent of his Emperor Eye. Instead, both of them silently observed. Aomine didn't know what these two schemers were plotting. He just found it boring. Since Akashi wasn't going to fight, he turned and went back to bullying Kise. Time passed little by little. Before they knew it, the final National Middle School Tournament of their generation was about to begin. This year, Teikō had only one goal: a three-peat! They were going to end their middle school careers in the most dazzling way possible. "Teikō!" "Teikō!" "Teikō!" On that day, when Tendou led the entire team out of the tunnel, the arena exploded like a bomb had gone off. This was the final performance of the Generation of Miracles' middle school era. No one wanted to miss their farewell show. Before the match, Fujimura gave a detailed breakdown of the opponent's playstyle and tactics. But honestly? No one really cared. Sometimes, coaches were kind of redundant — if your players are strong enough, and the enemy can't guard them, you win. Coach Lu had long figured that out: just give the ball to your strongest player. From the very first second of the match, Teikō had total control. Akashi, Midorima, Tendou, Aomine, Murasakibara — each one of them dominated their matchup. The opposing coach was powerless. There was simply no way to defend against this Teikō. Because every single player on Teikō needed to be double-teamed. And when you double-team one? Another one crushes you instantly. He wasn't surprised. That's just the destructive power of the Generation of Miracles. He just felt sorry for his players. For middle schoolers who loved basketball, this national tournament was their dream. Many players go their whole lives without even making it here. This was supposed to be their stage. But against Teikō? All they could do was sigh at their misfortune. By halftime, the score gap had ballooned to 60 points. Teikō didn't even let them score a single point. They crushed the opponent purely through individual ability. When the first half ended, the opposing starting five walked off the court, all with their heads hanging. They felt utterly humiliated — like they'd let their families and towns down. But Tokyo-area spectators weren't surprised. They'd already expected this outcome. Which made it all the more soul-crushing. Their coach could only try to comfort them. "Don't worry. Next year, those monsters will graduate. Then it'll be our turn." The result was a foregone conclusion. In the second half, Tendou didn't even play. Instead, the second and first years rotated in to gain experience. When the seniors left the court, the opponents finally started to enjoy playing again. It actually felt like a middle school basketball game — not like they were up against a team of pros.

Chapter 107: Finally, I Don’t Have to See You All Anymore

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