Chapter 48: Why Me?

Offense-to-defense switch. Haizaki had just crossed half court and already started waving at Akashi for the ball, not even pretending to be polite. Akashi hesitated a moment, but still passed it over. He was sharp—he understood the coach's intentions. This match was all about testing Haizaki. Shirogane Kōzō wanted to see if this punk was good enough to make Teikō's main roster. Tendou Kageyoshi immediately stepped up to guard him. "Only you to defend me, superstar?" Haizaki licked his lips, grinning with a look equal parts excited and menacing. Tendou didn't speak—he just beckoned with his finger, smirking provocatively. Haizaki didn't explode. Instead, his excitement amped up even more. He couldn't wait to tear Tendou apart, starting with that smug, annoying mouth of his. He didn't bother with any screen or team play—just went straight to work. Between-the-legs dribble, then a sharp cross, then a dramatic pullback. "Wait, this is..." One of the Teikō players on the sideline froze. That move— he'd used it just a few days ago in a match against Haizaki. But Haizaki's version? It was faster, stronger, and more polished. "I'll crush you in one go," "Superstar!" Haizaki's face twisted into a wolfish snarl as he slammed the ball to the ground and exploded toward Tendou's side. The sheer ferocity of that drive was on par with Aomine's. In all of Tendou's preliminary round matches, no opponent had come close to Haizaki's intensity. The camera cut to Haizaki's face head-on— and to Tendou's back, facing the oncoming threat. Viewers felt their hearts skip a beat. "No way... is Tendou finally meeting his match?" But in the next moment— The screen suddenly went black, and then a slash of white light cut across the middle. "Cleave!" Like someone had sliced through the night, the screen regained color— and there stood Tendou, arm extended sharply to the side. Haizaki's face mirrored the exact same expression as Yamanaka Yūta and Tanaka Gorō before him— pupils dilated, jaw slack, disbelief written all over his face. "How... how did he do that?!" His mind reeled like a magnitude 10 earthquake. And then he made eye contact with Tendou. "How's it feel to be defended by a real superstar?" Tendou quipped, brushing past him and sprinting toward the loose ball. Damn it! Haizaki cursed inwardly and bolted after him. The two of them streaked down the court, their speed electric. Tendou didn't underestimate him. At this stage, Haizaki was one of the strongest in the country. He carried the ball all the way to just beyond the three-point line. Haizaki was right there, shadowing him step for step. Tendou didn't bother with fancy crossovers. Instead, he planted his feet, turned his back, and drove his shoulder hard into Haizaki's chest. That one hit— Haizaki felt it immediately. This guy... was stronger than him. He grit his teeth through the pain and pressed back in. Meanwhile, Aomine the ball hog had already sprinted ahead, waving frantically for the ball like his life depended on it. "Oi, pass it, pass it!" He shouted, with Akashi, Nijimura, and others scrambling to close in behind him. It was a 2-on-1 in the frontcourt. But the moment was brief— a split-second delay, and the chance would be gone. Tendou didn't hesitate. He glanced toward Aomine. Haizaki cursed. "Shit, he's going to pass." The guy could dish—he'd shown that much during his first drive. The moment he leaned that way, Haizaki shifted laterally, anticipating the pass. But— Wrist flick. Turn. Explode. Tendou spun the opposite way, slicing past Haizaki's blind side and rocketing toward the basket. It all happened in an instant— Haizaki didn't even have time to recover. Swish~ Tendou scooped the ball in with a graceful finger-roll. Damn it! Haizaki clenched his jaw. He'd been completely baited and beaten. "Don't glare at me like you're about to eat someone." Tendou casually tipped his head. "Play like that, without thinking, and you'll end up like Aomine." "Hah?!" Aomine yelled from behind. "Why me?!" Pffffft~ 『Bro, leave Aomine alone, he's already black enough!』 『Stop pretending—you LOVE it when Tendou bullies Aomine. Don't think we don't see you laughing every time!』 『I DO love it. I DO laugh. WHAT YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT?!』 『You guys are so chaotic LMAO.』 『It's too good. Never worried about Tendou for a second!』 With Haizaki getting schooled, the comment section came back to life. For most viewers, Tendou's swagger and sharp tongue were now a highlight of the series. Putting themselves in his shoes and dunking on obvious villains like Haizaki? Peak wish-fulfillment. If this had been Kuroko in the same situation, fans might have been worried. After all, Kuroko was your classic slow-burn underdog. But Tendou? "A new enemy? Cool. Watch me wreck him." 24-karat satisfaction. No hesitation. ... "Tendou's post moves have improved." The assistant coach's eyes lit up. In basketball, back-to-the-basket play was an art—especially in one-on-one matchups. But it took strength. If your frame wasn't solid, you'd just get shoved out of position. In modern basketball, the post-up was becoming a dying art. Not because players couldn't do it— but because most didn't want to. The rules had softened. Compared to the 2000–2010 era, the 2011–2020 league looked like a no-contact ballet recital. Even centers—guys whose job was to dominate the paint— were out there chucking threes like they'd forgotten what a hook shot was. But in this world, post play still mattered. And Tendou? He made it look damn good. "Maybe it's the added muscle. He's unlocked a new side of his game," Shirogane nodded, clearly pleased. Tendou was a natural. Ever since joining the team, he'd been like a sponge, absorbing every bit of basketball knowledge he could get his hands on. Even his beloved fadeaway jumper had gotten more reliable lately. No surprise—he cashed in every popularity point for lottery rolls, and every roll boosted some part of his game. Right now, Tendou Kageyoshi was a genuine offensive Swiss Army knife. Haizaki was grinding his teeth. He'd never met anyone this infuriating on the court. This wasn't some overhyped loudmouth— this was the real deal. "This guy... is legit." "Don't dwell on it, Haizaki." Nijimura Shūzō walked over, trying to calm him. "Take it one step at a time. Basketball isn't a sprint. You still have plenty of time." Plenty of guys had been wrecked by Tendou during the preliminaries. Some even broke down mentally. Nijimura treated all his teammates with equal care—especially the freshmen. And something about Haizaki reminded him of a younger version of himself. But— "Tch. I don't need your pity," Haizaki snapped. Even if he did kind of fear Nijimura's eyes... he was too used to fighting alone. Just like a lone wolf. --- Vote with some power stones in this story. By using them on this book, you guarantee bonus chapters weekly.