Just like Shirogane Kōzō, the moment Tendou activated the "monster," Akashi and the others also saw it.
The sheer visual shock left a deep impact.
To them, it was as if the entire court had been engulfed in black flames, burning wildly.
And at the very center of that blaze—stood Tendou Kageyoshi and his monster.
"So this... this is what Tendou truly looks like?"
Shirogane was shaken to the core.
In all his years coaching, he'd never encountered a player like this.
But...
"No, something's off. Tendou's speed and physical stats haven't changed. The only thing that's improved is..."
His instinct?
Could it be Wild Instinct?
As a seasoned coach, Shirogane Kōzō knew full well: the human body harbors a latent, invisible talent—an instinctual ability often referred to as Wild.
Depending on the kind of "wildness," it could boost a player's reaction time, speed, power, coordination, and more.
But soon, he shook his head.
What surrounded Tendou now wasn't wildness—it was something he'd never seen before.
"It's more like... a basketball IQ pushed to its absolute limit."
Tendou had just made two identical plays, with the same speed, same movement.
Yet the second time, he effortlessly broke through Tsugawa Tomoki's defense.
It was as if he'd already read the opponent like a book, as if his brain had computed everything and sent orders to his body in real time.
Wait—no.
It wasn't even computation.
Breaking through Tsugawa could be explained with prediction, sure—but that pass he threw afterward, slicing through Seihō's entire defense line, was on another level.
That wasn't just prediction.
"That was a real-time read of the opponent's positioning and movement—a god-tier pass made from pure court sense."
There was no hesitation, no second-guessing.
He simply saw it—and threw it.
"And paired with that unshakable confidence... that fearless passing style..."
Unstoppable.
At that moment, Shirogane couldn't imagine how anyone could stop Tendou's offense.
As long as his teammates could keep up with his tempo, he alone could dismantle even Seihō's ironclad defense.
And so, he shouted from the sideline:
"Get the ball to Tendou! Everyone else, stay ready to receive the pass!"
With this kind of court vision, what's the point of running off-ball?
Just let him handle everything!
...
『Something's off, guys! This anime's going off the rails again!』
『I knew it! Ever since Haizaki showed up, this series has been veering into supernatural territory.』
『Bro's literally solo-ing an entire team's defense… is this still basketball?!』
『Calm down. This kind of play is totally possible—with the right system and coordinated movement, just pass to the open man, right?』
『You found him, Batman. The Joker's right above me in this comment thread!』
"..."
As usual, the internet was in full chaos.
Still, it was true.
Real-life players had done things like this before.
Tendou's idol—LeBron James, the "40-year-old rookie"—was famous for plays that shredded enemy defenses with impossible passes.
That's what made him a true primary ball-handler.
Why are ball-dominant players so valuable in today's NBA?
Because players with elite court vision are rare.
Freak athletes are everywhere—you could grab ten from any draft class.
But a freak athlete with a high basketball IQ? Now that's rare.
People say LeBron's talent is once-in-history, and it's no exaggeration.
Not only does he have a monster physique—he also has one of the greatest minds in NBA history.
That's why he was still dropping 40-point games at age 40.
In terms of sheer brainpower, even Kobe and Duncan had to tip their hats.
Of course, Jordan and Kobe weren't built like that—they were scorers, meant to finish games themselves, not run the whole offense.
No need to compare—winning is all that matters.
...
Back on the court, Tendou's show wasn't over.
Even on defense, the Monster kept operating.
Since Tsugawa Tomoki had almost zero offensive threat, Tendou barely had to bother guarding him.
"Stay calm. Just get it back."
Seihō's captain, Kasuga Ryūhei, brought the ball up and directed the offense.
That first-year's ability was surprising, sure—but it didn't mean Seihō had no answers.
Step one was fixing their own offense.
Tsugawa was pure defense—his offense had major holes.
It was like Teikō knew that already—Tendou, the freak, treated him like air.
The pressure from Teikō's defense was suffocating.
"Guess we gotta muscle through."
Kasuga lobbed it into the paint, aiming for their Polish-blooded center—taller and more experienced than Murasakibara.
But then...
"There it is!"
Kasuga suddenly heard Tendou mutter.
He looked up—and saw a black monster appear in his passing lane.
The next instant, the ball didn't land in his center's hands.
It landed in #14's palm.
Tendou effortlessly intercepted it.
He stood near the free-throw line, posture perfectly upright, his right arm stretched across like a wall—completely cutting off Kasuga and his teammates.
Then—
TAP!
He slammed the ball down and took off like a rocket downcourt.
"Shit!"
"Get back!"
"Stop him!!"
Kasuga and the coach shouted in panic.
Seihō was a well-drilled team. Their defense reacted fast.
But the Monster only raised Tendou's IQ, not his physical stats.
Even so...
"Checkmate."
Tendou glanced up—and saw the Monster positioned on the court.
He didn't hesitate.
With force, he bounced the ball in a sharp angle.
BANG!
It ricocheted off the hardwood and landed in Aomine's hands.
"...What the hell?"
Aomine blinked. He was just about to call for the pass—but the ball came first.
"This bastard…"
"You really are the best, Tendou."
Grinning, Aomine blasted through the defense, roared, and hammered the ball through the rim.
Seihō's defenders were too late.
They'd put too much focus on Tendou—and paid the price.
---
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