The atmosphere around Teiko was different now.
There was an edge to their play—something less mechanical and more fluid. Every pass felt more connected. Every move had purpose.
The first sign of true change came during a practice, when Akashi called for a full-court drill. Aomine sprinted down the court, but this time, he didn't go for the solo dunk. Instead, he passed to Gojo, who, in turn, lobbed it to Kise. Kise, ever the showman, faked a shot, then threw a no-look pass to Midorima, who nailed a three without hesitation.
There were no individual stars anymore. No lone wolves. Just a team—moving as one.
But the real test came in their next game.
Teiko was up against a formidable opponent: a newly formed powerhouse team from another school, Seirin, known for their fast tempo and unorthodox plays. Their ace? A player by the name of Kagami Taiga.
Teiko's starting lineup hadn't changed—except for one thing: Gojo was now fully in sync with Kuroko, not just as an offensive powerhouse but as a strategist. Kuroko's passes, once invisible, were now vital to their momentum. And Gojo's unpredictable flair seemed to elevate everyone else's game, giving them space to shine.
The game started with Seirin pushing hard, fast breaks and sharp shooters testing Teiko's defense. But Teiko's teamwork began to show its strength. Akashi's command of the game, Aomine's unrelenting offense, and Midorima's strategic long-range shooting were all in sync with Kuroko and Gojo's fluid plays. Murasakibara, despite his usual nonchalance, found himself in a rhythm too, blocking shots and grabbing rebounds when it mattered.
The game was tight, much tighter than anyone expected. Seirin's Kagami and Kuroko went head-to-head, trading baskets and showing off their opposing styles. Kagami's raw power and speed clashed with Kuroko's misdirection and subtlety, and for a while, it seemed like Seirin might edge them out.
But then, in the final minutes of the game, Gojo and Kuroko orchestrated the play of the night. Gojo drew in the defense with his dazzling moves, creating a brief moment of confusion. As the defenders closed in on him, he passed the ball—blindly—over his shoulder to Kuroko, who was waiting near the corner.
Kuroko didn't hesitate. He passed it straight back to Gojo with a perfect lob—timing it just right as the defenders scrambled to recover.
Gojo took the shot. It was a perfect three-pointer.
Teiko 75 – Seirin 73.
The buzzer sounded.
The court erupted into a mixture of cheers and gasps. Seirin's players were exhausted, but their eyes were filled with respect. Teiko walked off the court, tired but victorious.
For the first time in a long while, Gojo felt something unfamiliar.
It wasn't just power.
It was satisfaction.
---
In the locker room, the team gathered in their usual silence. No one broke the quiet, but there was a warmth in the air. Kuroko nodded at Gojo, a small but genuine smile on his face. It wasn't flashy—no flamboyant words or gestures—but it was enough.
Gojo leaned against the wall, arms folded.
"Well, that was fun," he said, breaking the silence. "Not bad for a bunch of misfits, huh?"
Aomine grinned, slinging a towel over his shoulder. "I'm starting to like this."
Midorima, his usual aloofness replaced with something close to admiration, adjusted his glasses. "Just don't get cocky."
"I'm not," Gojo said, winking. "But I think you guys might be."
Akashi, who had been standing apart, slowly walked toward the group. His usual controlled demeanor had softened just a touch.
"We're not just winning," Akashi said quietly. "We're becoming something more."
Gojo smiled faintly. "Yeah, we are."
And for the first time, the team felt like it was truly a team. Not just five individuals who happened to be great at basketball, but a group that had learned to trust one another. They had their flaws, their egos, and their pasts—but they also had something stronger now.
Connection.