Chapter 47: So He’s a Ball Hog

The chat exploded. As soon as Tendou Kageyoshi dropped that line, bullet comments flooded the screen in every shape and color, making it almost impossible to see what was happening behind them. Haizaki's debut had the audience picking up instantly on those classic villain vibes. Normally, in this kind of setup, the story would let Haizaki strut his stuff for an episode or two—build him up—then come crashing down with a humbling beatdown. If this were Kuroko, that's exactly how it would go. But Tendou wasn't having any of that. He went straight into flamboyant trash talk mode, burning the bridge before it even got built, and dragging the audience into a full-blown dopamine rush. Now, on Reddit, the Kuroko tag already had its own trending thread. And apart from the protagonist Kuroko himself, the most discussed name was Tendou. The reason was simple: Tendou was exactly the kind of guy fans dreamed of being. As for Haizaki? The moment he heard Tendou's retort, his face turned visibly darker. Sure, Haizaki was the kind of guy who'd pick on classmates for fun. But Tendou? His mouth was the real menace. These two were destined to clash. And right now, it was pretty obvious who had the upper hand. Haizaki's scowling face stood in sharp contrast to Tendou's smug, over-the-top grin. "Yap all you want," Haizaki said, cold fury in his tone. "In a minute, I'm going to tear your mouth— along with your pretty face—to shreds and dump it in the trash." He rarely met his match. But today felt different. And that made his disgust for Tendou even more intense. Like predators sniffing out their rivals, Haizaki saw Tendou as a natural-born nemesis—someone he had to take down. "The basketball court isn't a place to settle personal scores," Nijimura Shūzō stepped in. "Tendou, it's time to train." Seeing the tension getting out of hand, the captain stepped up to prevent an actual brawl. If a fight broke out here, it'd be a nightmare to explain to the school. "Tch." Haizaki clicked his tongue in frustration. He didn't know why, but something about Nijimura's eyes creeped him out. Scared him a little, even. But just as Haizaki turned to go smash through the third-string scrubs, grind his way up the ranks, and circle back to Tendou for revenge— Shirogane Kōzō opened his mouth. "You're Haizaki, right? We're short a player for the first-string scrimmage. You'll join them." "Coach—?" Nijimura looked surprised. Shirogane just gestured for calm. "No need to worry. That kid Tendou? He doesn't need us to fight his battles." Shirogane wasn't afraid of troublemakers. What he feared was talent without the skill to back it up. And Haizaki? He definitely had the skills. Even someone like Yamanaka—last year's sixth man—got clowned by him. That alone proved Haizaki's raw ability. As for whatever beef he had with Tendou? Shirogane didn't care. The court was a place where power settled everything. If you had an issue, settle it in a game. That's what he called: Talking with basketball. And honestly? This was perfect. If anyone could tame Haizaki, it'd be Tendou. And if Tendou lost? Well, then that'd put him in his place for once. Either way, Teikō wins. Because Shirogane had high hopes for Tendou—very high hopes. And just like that, a one-of-a-kind scrimmage began. ... Because of Haizaki's earlier attitude, most of the team didn't like him. To prevent sabotage, Shirogane paired him with Nijimura, Teikō's most disciplined player and the only one who could keep Haizaki in check. On the other side, Tendou's team included: Aomine, Murasakibara, Midorima, and last year's first-string point guard. Tendou glanced at the lineup and sighed. "How am I even supposed to lose with a team like this?" "Whatever's going on between you two, remember this is a game. If you're men, settle it with basketball," Shirogane warned. "Got it, Coach. I won't punch him." Tendou stretched casually. That only pissed Haizaki off more. "I haven't even said anything yet, and he's acting like he's doing me a favor by holding back?!" What made it worse was— why did Shirogane and the others all look so relieved?! "Are these bastards looking down on me?" Haizaki fumed. He was the reigning delinquent king, and he'd never lost a fight. The chat, of course, knew exactly why the coaching staff was relieved. 『This poor kid really thinks he can square up with B-King?』 『He's walking straight into the reaper's arms.』 『Bro, that guy threw hands with the Sword Saint when he was eleven!』 『RUN, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, RUN!』 Tendou caught a glimpse of the chat rooting for bloodshed and decided to turn it off before it made him laugh. At this stage, Haizaki's strength was on par with the Generation of Miracles. It was only during second year that the gap started to open. If you had to tier the characters in Kuroko no Basket, it might go like this: Tier 1: Nash (from the movie) Tier 2: Generation of Miracles, Kagami Taiga Tier 3: Haizaki Shōgo, Nijimura Shūzō, Himuro Tatsuya Tier 4: The Uncrowned Kings Tier 5: National-level players like Kasamatsu Below that: Everyone else The Tier 1–2 gap wasn't huge. Nash only outclassed them due to age advantage. Same-age matchups would've been much closer—Akashi might not beat Nash, but he wouldn't lose badly either. Their "eyes" were the same level. As for Haizaki— He ranked in Tier 3, the closest tier to Miracles. Stronger than both Nijimura and Himuro. Even after wasting years away from the game, he came back and forced Peak Kise to use his Perfect Copy. That's no small feat. — Game start. This was a 20-minute scrimmage, half-court only. Jump ball: unsurprisingly, Murasakibara won it. With both team generals (Akashi, Nijimura) on the opposing team, the blue-squad players instinctively passed the ball to Tendou. Tendou himself didn't feel like he even needed a point guard. Modern basketball had long blurred positional lines. Traditional "pure" point guards with only passing ability? They were a dying breed. Today, your offensive engine could be a 2-guard, a wing, even a positionless 5. Tendou was a product of that postmodern basketball philosophy. Of course his style tilted toward the all-around playmaker type. After all— What man doesn't want to have the ball in his hands all the damn time? Haizaki was in his face instantly. He had only one goal: Crush this big-mouthed bastard. Tendou ignored him and walked the ball up the court. As Midorima faked a cut and then curved back out to the wing, Tendou drove forward, baited the defense with a hesitation move, then snapped a hard pass to the left side. Midorima caught it, rose up, and let it fly. That signature shooting form, forged through years of repetition, was as smooth as ever. The red team's shooting guard did his best— but Midorima still drained the opening bucket. Shirogane Kōzō watched from the sideline, eyes narrowing. He'd just made another observation. Tendou wasn't just a ball hog. He wasn't obsessed with scoring. What he loved was—having the ball in his hands. If you gave him full usage, he could play like Nijimura— a full-spectrum creator who dictated tempo, scoring, and flow. So he wasn't exactly a black hole. But still— "He's a ball hog all right. Just not in the usual way." Bottom line? "Selfless" would never be a word that applied to him. --- Vote with some power stones in this story. By using them on this book, you guarantee bonus chapters weekly.