The next day, Tendou paid a visit to Shirogane Kōzō's home.
It was a traditional Japanese-style house—spacious, roughly 300 square meters.
In a city like Tokyo, this was definitely a mansion.
After all, Shirogane was once a national-level player. He'd made enough money during his career to live in comfort for a lifetime.
So for him to coach now—was purely out of love.
Most retired athletes went the route of opening a gym or going into business, like Aida Kagetora.
Using your name and career to make money was the norm.
People like Shirogane were the rare fools of the basketball world.
Just like Yao Ming—successful and retired, yet still trying to contribute to domestic basketball.
He poured in time, effort, money… only to get stabbed in the back.
These kinds of people deserved respect.
"Old man, your place is really nice."
"If you want one, you can live in a house like this too someday. You've got the potential."
Aside from the Prime Minister's residence and the Imperial Palace, this area was considered Tokyo's Tier 1 zone—true elite territory.
But Tendou had no plans to settle here.
"I heard from Fujimura about what happened at the club yesterday."
Shirogane had invited him over to talk about the recent incident at the basketball club.
Everything that was meant to happen did happen.
Even when Tendou didn't interfere, things naturally followed their original trajectory.
Even if he tried to nudge the plot in a different direction, fate would pull it right back to the same place.
Just like the conflict between Haizaki and Akashi.
"So, are you here to scold me today?"
"I just want to hear what you think."
"What's there to think?"
Tendou had never seen the Generation of Miracles' issues as actual problems.
It wasn't like they were lost in life—they'd just veered off course when it came to basketball.
All they needed was one big setback—and they'd snap back into place.
"I'm a problem child myself," he said, sipping his tea and closing his eyes in contentment.
Seeing that, Shirogane was finally at ease.
At least the captain he'd chosen understood himself clearly.
"Seeing you like this, I'm relieved."
"Do you think you can win the triple crown?"
"Instead of thinking about how we'll win, I think you should be worrying about how we could possibly lose."
With the entire Generation of Miracles awakened, even if you threw the referees onto the opposing team, they'd still win.
Just yesterday, Tendou had personally witnessed Akashi's switch from "real" Akashi to "false" Akashi.
Not through anime—he saw it with his own eyes.
He literally saw Akashi's silhouette blur and shift, and when his eyes opened again, the second personality had taken over.
Later, he watched through the anime as Midorima stayed after training, practicing three-pointers alone.
He kept shooting from farther and farther back—until he was sinking shots from logo range with pinpoint accuracy.
—
Leaving Shirogane's house, Tendou's manager had already been waiting out front for quite a while.
Thank God—this spoiled brat had finally agreed to work again.
As his manager, there was nothing more gratifying than seeing your artist actually motivated to work.
"Kept you waiting?"
"Not at all. All done with your talk?"
"Yup. So, where are we headed first?"
"Two commercials need filming. After that, we're going to Tokyo Tower for a photoshoot. I've had them set up in advance—once you arrive, we can start immediately."
He hurried to finish before Tendou could get annoyed.
It was truly baffling—his other client, Kise Ryōta, worked like a dog and still couldn't match Tendou's popularity.
To help Kise close that gap, the agency had bent over backward—but fans still overwhelmingly preferred Tendou.
In fact, they even stormed the agency to complain that he was giving too many jobs to Kise and neglecting Tendou.
As if he'd dare not offer work to this cash cow!
The agency's boss was a hardcore Tendou fan. If he didn't treat him right, he'd be out of a job tomorrow.
It was just bizarre.
For most artists, exposure was everything—especially new ones. You'd fight for every second of screen time.
But Tendou? The less he worked, the more popular he got.
Occasionally releasing a photo book was enough to sell out every copy—over and over again.
And now?
Even advertisers came running, begging to give him their money.
What else could he say?
"It's fate."
"What are you standing around for? Let's go. I've got fans to reward."
If you really cared about your fans, maybe try working a bit more and worrying less about basketball.
—
Evening.
Tendou had just wrapped up his shoot and gotten out of the car when he saw a certain pink-haired girl squatting in front of his house, counting ants.
"Momoi?"
"Little Tendou, you're finally home! Where've you been? I've been waiting forever!"
"Went to Coach Shirogane's place—talked about the team. Then my manager dragged me to set for a commercial. Got hungry, ate some ramen. Bought water. Rehydrated. Then finished the shoot, then came straight h—"
He rambled like a machine gun. Momoi's brain short-circuited halfway through.
She looked dazed.
Then she noticed his smug grin.
"You tricked me again!"
"You should be grateful. Do you know how many girls wish I'd tease them like this?"
"Why?"
"Because I'm hot, famous, and filthy rich."
What did that have to do with wanting to be teased?!
"No! That's not what I came here for!" she snapped, hands on hips. "Aomine won't train! He just lies in bed reading My Little Pony all day!"
"Wasn't it his turn to skip practice today?"
Tendou immediately guessed her reason for showing up.
Seeing that she couldn't outwit him, she stopped trying.
"Maybe... but you're the captain! Do something!"
"Why bother? Isn't he supposedly unbeatable right now? Let him slack off. Once he starts losing, someone will beat sense into him.
When he's had enough losses, then he'll start training again."
That... actually made sense?
No—wait! Every time he wore that smug grin, nothing good ever followed.
She tried to analyze it frame by frame, but her stomach betrayed her first.
"Grrrrrr~"
Her face flushed red. She could no longer think.
"Hungry?"
"Yes!"
"Didn't eat lunch?"
"Nope!"
She was being quite obedient. Looked like she came to Tendou for a free meal.
"Wait here."
Tendou turned and went inside.
A moment later, he came back out with a motorcycle helmet.
"Hop on. I'll take you to eat."
"Not eating at home?"
"Do I look like someone who cooks?"
He looked genuinely offended. His eyes rolled so hard they nearly left orbit.
"Good point. You really don't look like a cook. But I can cook!"
"Please spare me. I'm too young to meet God. Get on."
He looked even more horrified.
Momoi's cooking was legendarily bad.
She could film an entire arc for a cooking anime—and kill off the whole cast.
Even the leaders of the Cooking Underworld would bow to her.
"So mean! My cooking is delicious!"
She puffed her cheeks angrily.
She really hated people questioning her culinary skills.
Then she looked around—
"Hey, where's the helmet?"
"You only need a helmet for fishing. You don't need one for riding a bike. It's safe."
...What kind of backwards logic was that?!