Teiko's next opponent was a team that had long been a thorn in their side—the formidable Rakuzan High. Known for their sharp strategies and unyielding defense, Rakuzan was the perfect test for the Teiko team's newfound unity. Their ace, Akashi Seijuro, was someone whose dominance on the court was matched only by his overwhelming control over his team. He was a leader in every sense of the word—ruthless, calculating, and deadly accurate.
Teiko gathered in the locker room before the game. The tension was palpable. Rakuzan was no ordinary opponent, and every player knew this would be their hardest challenge yet. But for the first time, there was a quiet confidence among the team. No one was standing apart. They were all present—together.
Aomine was stretching, his usual cocky smirk replaced by a focused intensity. Midorima adjusted his glasses, his sharp eyes darting around the room, calculating every angle. Kise was already bouncing on his feet, ready to show off. Murasakibara, despite his usual laziness, had a quiet determination in his gaze.
Akashi stood by the door, his eyes glinting with a calm yet knowing expression, as if he could already see the game unfold in his mind. But today, something was different. He wasn't the only one with that kind of awareness.
Gojo caught Kuroko's eye, standing at the back of the room. The subtle shift between them was undeniable. Where before Kuroko might have been dismissed or overlooked, now his presence was recognized. Not just by Gojo, but by the team as a whole.
"We can do this," Gojo said, breaking the silence, his voice not as loud and commanding as usual, but softer, grounded.
Kuroko nodded, a small smile curling at his lips. "We can."
---
The game began with the familiar roar of the crowd. Rakuzan immediately took control with their tight defense and aggressive offense. Akashi was a force to be reckoned with, and Teiko found themselves struggling to match his pace at first. But then, something remarkable happened.
Aomine—usually a player who thrived on individual glory—started passing more. Midorima began reading the game in ways that went beyond his usual calculations, anticipating plays and adjusting his shots accordingly. Kise's flashy moves weren't just for show anymore; he was using them to draw defenders and open up space for his teammates. Murasakibara's towering presence wasn't just about intimidation; he was grabbing rebounds and blocking shots with precision, making every play count.
And Gojo?
Gojo was playing with purpose. He wasn't the untouchable force he once was. Instead, he was blending in with the team, offering up assists and playing defense when it mattered, all while still unleashing his unpredictable brilliance when the moment called for it.
But the real breakthrough came when Teiko was down by five points in the final minutes of the game. Rakuzan's defense was suffocating, and Akashi had been calling the shots flawlessly. Teiko was on the ropes.
It was in this moment that Kuroko, ever the shadow, saw an opening. With Rakuzan's defense shifting to cover the obvious threats—Gojo, Aomine, Kise—Kuroko slipped through the cracks. He made himself invisible, moving unnoticed to the edge of the court.
Gojo, sensing the opportunity, caught Kuroko's eye. In an instant, he knew what needed to be done. He made a pass to Kuroko that, on the surface, seemed like a simple move—but it was a calculated risk. Rakuzan's defense collapsed on Gojo, and Akashi narrowed his eyes, expecting the ball to stay with Gojo or pass to Aomine.
But instead, Kuroko took the ball, fading into the corner. The defense was slow to react—because Kuroko wasn't there, not fully. But when he appeared, it was just in time for the perfect shot.
Kuroko shot from beyond the arc, his form flawless. The ball sailed through the air, perfectly aligned, and—
Swish.
The arena went wild. Teiko was within two points of Rakuzan.
---
With the game on the line, Akashi's calculated moves grew more desperate. He attempted to dominate, pulling his team into a tightly-knit formation, pushing everyone to their limits. But now, Teiko wasn't just reacting. They were moving together. They were unpredictable, fluid, and most importantly, they trusted each other.
In the final seconds, Akashi was driving for the basket, attempting to make the winning play. But as he made his move, Aomine slid into position, blocking his path. Midorima's defense forced Akashi to adjust, and Kise was right there, putting pressure on him from the side.
Akashi's shot went wide.
It was Gojo who seized the rebound, passing the ball up to Aomine. The clock ticked down.
Aomine faked left, then passed right to Kise, who found Gojo in the corner of his vision.
Gojo didn't hesitate. With a fluid motion, he pulled up for the three.
The ball flew through the air.
It felt like time slowed down. Gojo wasn't just shooting to win. He wasn't thinking about his power, his curse techniques, or anything else.
He was just playing basketball.
Swish.
The buzzer went off.
Teiko 80 – Rakuzan 78.
---
The locker room erupted. Teiko had done it. They had won—not because of individual brilliance, but because they had played as one. As a team.
Kuroko, ever the shadow, was the first to break the silence. "We did it."
Aomine's grin was wide, genuine, but there was something deeper in his eyes. Respect. "Not bad. You guys didn't mess it up for once."
Kise laughed. "We all stepped it up. Even you, Aomine!"
Midorima adjusted his glasses, his usually stern demeanor cracking just a little. "I suppose... we make a good team after all."
Gojo leaned back against the wall, arms folded. His smile was as relaxed as ever, but there was a softness in his gaze. "Yeah. I think we're finally getting it."
Akashi, who had been silent, simply watched the team. There was no anger in his eyes, no disappointment. Only the quiet satisfaction of seeing something grow.
"It seems," Akashi said, his voice calm but full of depth, "that the game has changed."
---
In the locker room, as the team celebrated, Gojo exchanged one last look with Kuroko.
It wasn't just the win that mattered.
It was the bond they had forged.