This is a sponsored chapter, thank you BraveHeart!
///
The audience was stunned by Kagami's dramatic kneel.
New viewers were quick to admit—this kind of move was completely beyond them.
They had never seen anything like it in Slam Dunk. It was more on par with the "Child of God" Yukimura Seiichi from the Prince of Tennis set.
Absolutely intimidating.
"Your hoop is that way—don't get cocky, birdbrain."
Just listen to that line. So over-the-top.
The production team behind the Shūtoku match officially confirmed it: Kagami possessed the same level of talent as the Generation of Miracles.
That left a lot of new viewers completely bewildered.
Amid the endless stream of bullet comments like "I can't pull that off," the game kicked off with force.
From the get-go, Kirisaki Daiichi wasted no time showing the viewers what kind of team they were.
From the very first second, the court was filled with brutality and rough play.
At this point, the protagonist wasn't Tendou—it was Hanamiya Makoto and his teammates from Kirisaki Daiichi.
This gave the production team the perfect chance to introduce the "Uncrowned Kings" concept.
"Uncrowned Kings? Judging by the setup, that sounds like they're just below the Generation of Miracles."
What was the production team up to?
They were trying to create a strong impression of Kirisaki Daiichi's overwhelming power for the audience.
Just like when Rakuzan made their debut—with Akashi leading three Uncrowned Kings—the atmosphere was suffocating. It felt like the entire court froze over.
"But Seirin's lineup isn't exactly weak either," said Mizugame, not falling for the production team's smokescreen.
"With a Generation of Miracles-level Kagami Taiga, plus Kuroko—another Generation of Miracles-caliber support—the team's overall strength is actually quite high."
"And guys like Hyūga Junpei? Don't think they're pushovers either."
At that moment, he noticed a comment: "Weren't they just a random no-name team last year?"
Mizugame quickly explained, "Bro, did you even pay attention to the setup? Seirin is a team that was just founded last year, meaning that in their very first year, with a rookie coach, they made it into the Winter Cup qualifiers."
"Don't judge the Winter Cup based on the Generation of Miracles' standard and assume it's easy."
"If you've seen Slam Dunk, you know how hard it is to qualify. Akagi couldn't carry the team on his own—they got completely demolished. Even after Sakuragi and the others joined, they only scraped into Nationals as the second seed and almost lost."
"So forget all that stuff the production team says about Seirin's humble origins. Their lineup is stacked."
Production teams love to downplay the protagonist team's starting point, just so their rise against the odds feels more satisfying.
Shōhoku, Seigaku, Karasuno—they all follow that same formula.
But Mizugame wasn't buying it, because the deeper you got into the series, the more you realized: these teams are full of elite players.
Especially Seigaku from Prince of Tennis—those hidden pros?
Compared to the flashy Hyōtei, they had way more depth.
Sure, Tezuka got injured and couldn't play, but Fuji? He only sat out because the plot demanded it.
The audience had to admit—he had a point.
Whether it was Kaijō, Shūtoku, or any other powerhouse Seirin faced, the players would act scared at first—but when the game actually started, they showed no signs of backing down.
While all this chatter was going on, Hanamiya Makoto started his performance.
"What're you all staring at me for? Wanna hit me or something?"
"Go ahead then. One by one, you all act like you're some shōnen manga protagonist. What are you, a bunch of preschoolers?"
Damn, the guy's rotten to the core.
Mizugame couldn't help but laugh at Hanamiya's deranged chuckle.
Especially knowing that this sleazy guy got the crap kicked out of him on his first day at school.
He actually laughed out loud at the memory.
Naturally, the protagonist team had to act like, "What they did is their problem, but we can't stoop to their level."
That's the proper setup for a classic hot-blooded sports anime.
The episode ended with Hanamiya's wicked laughter echoing in the background.
"Good thing I saw this coming. I didn't even expect Tendou to show up in this episode," Mizugame said during the ending credits, already roasting the production team for dragging things out as usual.
Next episode, here we go.
As usual, it began with a recap of the challenges Seirin had faced.
Then Kuroko stepped up—using his misdirection to help Seirin score and immediately turn the game around.
Naturally, Kuroko said something like: "I will defeat you, Tendou-kun. The more determined you are, the more I have to stop you."
"I get what Kuroko's saying," Mizugame said. "But honestly, I don't think Tendou's doing anything wrong."
"Isn't the whole point of basketball to win?"
"What's the use of talking about friendship and teamwork on a professional court? If you lose, who's happy about that?"
For any seasoned fan, Kuroko's ideals—while not exactly childish—do come off as overly naive.
The basketball world is brutal. If a player loses their value, even a superstar like Dwyane Wade can get cut without a second thought.
And the fans?
Aside from cursing out Pat Riley for being heartless, they still support the team. Give it a few weeks, and they forget.
Why?
Because rebuilding is the only way to win. Only by tearing it down can a team compete for a championship again.
Check out any fan forum. Whether you're a bottom-feeder or a title contender, the fans can spin out complete offseason plans like they're GMs.
Strong teams aim for the championship. Weak teams aim for the playoffs first—then the championship.
Everyone's chasing that same goal: winning.
Every summer, hundreds of pro players fight tooth and nail for a contract worth maybe a few hundred thousand dollars.
To earn that contract, they must prove they can help their team win.
"Kuroko's style of playing for joy isn't exactly wrong—he's young, sentimental. But in the pro leagues, that mindset is actually kind of selfish," Mizugame added, shaking his head.
Even someone like Kuzma, making tens of millions, ends up spending most of the season warming the bench.
Even die-hard fans have their limits.
Joy comes from victory. Have you ever seen a fan laugh after their team loses?
The bullet comments exploded after that line.
After all, this was the 2D world—not every viewer followed real-world basketball logic.
Most of them didn't care that much. Like their favorite catchphrase in the comment section:
"All about the looks!"
They only cared about their favorite characters.
And with both Tendou and Kuroko being fan favorites in the story, the debate naturally grew intense and chaotic.
While everyone was talking and arguing, the first quarter quietly ended.
And Seirin ran into a new problem.
Still trailing, they were forced to sub Kuroko out for rest.
This also revealed something surprising: Kuroko's misdirection technique had been developed with Tendou's help.
『What? Tendou helped Kuroko develop it?』
『No way, that white-haired guy's that strong? He doesn't even seem that impressive.』
『Not impressive? You'd better go watch the prequel. That guy went absolutely berserk—turned himself into a demon.』