"Seriously… you haven't changed at all."
What kind of line was that?
It sounded like mockery. Or disappointment.
Of course, those were just interpretations from the audience.
From Tendou's perspective, it just felt wrong not to say a line in this kind of situation.
But he couldn't think of anything too impressive in the moment, so he just threw out something vague and ambiguous.
Who would've thought—
"Spontaneous brilliance."
Many viewers loved to analyze the so-called "director's subtext"—
One expression, one line, even a look could lead to layers of interpretation.
Sometimes it was overanalyzed.
Other times, it was exactly what the creator intended.
But in Tendou's case, it was simply the instinctive self-discipline of a basketball actor.
He gave himself a line.
Unintentional words, but meaningful to the listener.
And that line—
Struck deep in Kuroko's heart.
He had lost sight of his direction long ago.
That day when he parted ways with Aomine under the bridge, he tried to become stronger on his own.
But in the end, he realized he could only ever be a shadow.
He needed a light to stand beside.
He wasn't one of the Generation of Miracles.
Even after two years, he had barely improved.
Whoosh.
Tendou rushed past him with the ball, his entire body radiating white light—
so dazzling it seemed to erase Kuroko's presence entirely.
Boom!
A fast break—he powered through Kagami's defense and dunked it.
Even Seirin's spirit was crushed along with the ball.
This new generation of Light and Shadow?
At that moment, one was standing motionless in the backcourt, while the other sat dazed on the floor, staring up at Tendou.
The animation team gave these shots full close-ups.
And it was brilliant.
This—was the power of visual storytelling.
Seirin trailed by a massive margin.
Tendou now stood between Kuroko and Kagami.
A silent symbol of how much the two had been shaken.
If they couldn't stand side by side…
they had no hope of defeating Tendou.
Kuroko quickly regained his focus.
Compared to this, the blow he took from Aomine back then had hit even harder.
And that gave Kuroko one edge over Midorima and Kise—
Those two had never tasted failure. From the moment they were born, they were always winners.
But Kuroko?
He had always started as a loser.
And losers knew how to get back up.
"Even if you're right… even if I'm just stuck in place…"
"I still believe basketball isn't only about winning and losing."
…Goddamn.
Leave it to the protagonist to spout something so inspiring when everything's falling apart.
Tendou silently pulled up a virtual screen and queued the emotional BGM for his dramatic exit.
"I won't give up. It only becomes truly impossible… when I decide it is."
"No matter what others say, no matter how meaningless it seems, I refuse to let go of my possibility."
Seriously, they never should've let him monologue.
Tendou turned his head as if looking around—even though, with his "six eyes," he didn't need to.
But the gesture was instinctual.
And with just those simple lines, all of Seirin suddenly looked like they'd been shot full of adrenaline.
They weren't fighting for victory anymore.
They were fighting for their dignity.
To highlight Kuroko's courage, the anime even arranged for him to dribble straight at Tendou—
a player with no offensive skills charging at a basketball god like an ant trying to topple a tree.
It was pointless.
He'd just finished his inspirational speech… and immediately lost the ball.
But it was meant to be Kuroko's "hero moment."
Tendou, however, didn't take the bait.
He had no interest in being a stepping stone.
He simply let Kuroko pass.
Yamazaki Hiroshi stepped in casually and swatted the ball away.
It was obvious—Kuroko's Misdirection had reached its limit.
At this point, he was barely even keeping up with first-years.
Seirin was once again forced to face a brutal truth.
Director: "Damn it! Why aren't you following the script?!"
Tendou knew full well—if he intercepted Kuroko, it would be taken as inevitable by the audience.
They'd chalk it up to Tendou being overpowered.
But if Yamazaki did it?
It would just make Kuroko look foolish and reckless.
Tendou's refusal to play along left many Kuroko fans completely stuck.
Their protagonist barely got half a moment of glory.
Then, in the final insult:
Tendou flipped the table and stopped acting altogether.
He pulled the entire starting lineup off the court.
All that tension, all the heat—
Gone.
Director: "...???"
Final score: 125–75.
Seirin lost to Kirisaki Daiichi by a whopping 60 points.
Even the craziest underdog will end up as prey when standing before a lion.
"Tendou!"
"Tendou!"
"TENDOU!"
The match ended, and the crowd went wild—
not just in Lordaeron, but all over.
The leader of the Generation of Miracles had just made his nationals debut, and he delivered a performance for the ages.
He played 33 minutes.
60 points, 13 rebounds, 15 assists, 13 steals, 6 blocks.
Just four blocks shy of an unprecedented quintuple-double.
Even in the real world, viewers were stunned.
Though nobody thought it was impossible—
Basketball had already entered the small-ball era.
There might not be a real 60+ quadruple-double, but there had been 60+ triple-doubles.
『My god, 60+ quadruple-double??』
『My mom's asking why I'm kneeling to the TV.』
『Bro's been holding this in the whole group stage, and now he EXPLODED.』
『Poor Kuroko. Tendou went too hard—zero respect for his old teammate.』
『This guy belongs in an amusement park, not a basketball court. Go back to your idol group!』
『When Harden dropped 60-10-10, the Rockets called it iconic. You telling me this ain't the same?』
『Thunder GM must've had heartburn watching that.』
You think entertainment fans have the strongest online presence?
Nah—sports fans will humble you real fast.
『Dude above, cool it with the cringe takes. You think Tendou went all out? If he really tried, Seirin wouldn't have lost by just 60.』
『And don't insult the sports scene. This isn't your anime idol talent show, bro.』
『Shut up, keyboard warrior.』
『Nobody asked for your opinion, you shut-in!』
...
Kuroko's character type was clearly meant to inspire empathy…
But real basketball fans?
They weren't coddling anyone.
The sports world had the true kings of online combat.
One "come at me, bro" and even the toughest idol fandoms would back off.
Back in the day, Mop forums were the ultimate gatekeeper grounds.
Mom-fans wouldn't dare step foot in there.
Sadly, that golden era passed.
Old-school fans grew up, got jobs, started families.
Meanwhile, Penguin Corp kept promoting ratings over realism— making those scruffy, unglamorous athletes into generic "idol-boy" types.
The soul of it all had long since faded.