Takao's POV

I hadn't believed it was possible until I watched Akashi zip up his jacket and take his place on the bench.

"What just happened?" Furihata asked me. I studied the scoreboard, hoping somehow it was all a mistake, that the game was over, but the clock showed six minutes and forty-two seconds remained with The USA trailing Japan by one point.

"I don't know," I said, moving forward in my seat so I could peer down over the railing, hoping that my Hawk Eye could give me some more information.

"Why's Daddy sitting down?" Akira demanded from her place on her grandmother's lap. My heart sank. Keiko tried to quiet her down, but she started kicking and making shrilled unhappy noises.

I took her up and held her to my chest. "Shh, don't let Daddy hear that you doubt him. This hurts him more than it does us."

"I don't doubt Daddy," she screamed even louder, but after that burst of energy, she tired and put her head on my shoulder. She stuck her thumb in her mouth but this time, I didn't try to stop her, despite Shin-chan's insistence that we no longer enable this form of her coping mechanisms. "I don't doubt Daddy," she whimpered into my shoulder.

"Neither of us does and even if he loses – especially if he loses – we have to tell him we are proud of him." She nodded into my shoulder, her little hands balling my t-shirt.

"Are they trying to lose?" Furihata said, standing. He ignored the angry shouts in English from those behind us until I tugged on his sleeve and brought him back into his seat.

I put my elbows on the bar in front of me and willed Shin-chan to look up, but he only stared straight ahead, his shoulders slumped but not defeated. I couldn't tell if he had heard her outburst.

Two other men took their places on the court and play resumed. Immediately, Floyd and Bianchi doubled-teamed Aomine, leaving Mibuchi free to receive a behind-the-back pass from Imayoshi… three more points.

The marks changed again. Bianchi and the new point guard double-teamed Mibuchi leaving Imayoshi free and unguarded to run the floor and coordinate another play, screening out Montgomery on the way through… two more points.

"Don't they realize there isn't a single member of team Japan that can be left free?" I asked. "There are no useless members..."

"They're going to lose," Furihata whispered, his voice gruff. "What is Jiro thinking? Why isn't he making them listen?"

"What if this is his idea? Or, is he even in control?" I asked in return, my eyes drawn back to Shin-chan between plays. He'd leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes riveted to the action on the court. His left hand gripped his knee. "Shin-chan's angry, I can tell."

"Jiro's always in control," Furihata answered. My eyes flashed to Akashi who sat relaxed on the bench. "But, I can't tell what he's thinking without seeing his face."

"But what's his plan?" A whistle blew and as I watch the game instead of the back of my husband's head, I saw Japan had scored three more points and Mibuchi was at the free-throw line.

Midorima's POV

Of the thousands of eyes watching the game, I could feel the intense gray Hawk Eyes of my husband searching for answers on the back of my head, as if somehow he could read my thoughts through my skull. Looking back to him might give me strength, but I couldn't take my eyes off the debacle in front of me. Yes, it is obvious why Seijūrō has taken this absurd step, but that doesn't make it any less stressful.

"Akashi, Midorima get ready," the coach says as the referee blows the whistle for Montgomery's third foul. Mibuchi goes to the free throw line, but our coach stands and calls for a timeout. The team trots in, sweaty and aggravated.

"Coach," Floyd complains, seeing us stripping down to our uniforms. "You aren't thinking of subbing them in? We've still got three minutes left in the game; we'll make the comeback without them."

"We shouldn't be in the position to make a comeback," the coach says loudly, angrily. Everyone quiets.

The team is covered in sweat, dripping large, fat drops of the stuff onto the floor at our feet. I step back to keep from getting it on me as we jostle for a place in front of the coach. After only two and a half minutes without us on the court, they've probably worked harder than they have all season, but do they understand what's happened?

"When we left," Seijūrō explains slowly, "we were only down one point, now we're down nine. Nine points in two minutes?Would you like to double that to end the game?"

"Johnson and Calvin are both better players –" Bianchi begins.

"Yes, they are. I'll sub in for you. Shintarō, you go in for Montgomery. We'll attempt to clean up this mess." The contempt is palpable to my ears and I shudder. I know he isn't angry at me, but I turn my head to look at him and as I do, his 'Golden Side' is obviously running the show.

"Who are you to give orders?" Montgomery demands, pushing Calvin out of the way. Instead of backing down, Akashi moves forward until he is standing in the middle of our huddle, facing outward from the coach, taking his place at the center of it all.

"I'm the NBA's best Point Guard." There is no trace of irony or jest in his voice. The proclamation stuns them all for a second.

"You little, shit –" Montgomery surges up from the bench, throwing his sweat-soak towel at Seijūrō, who knocks it aside.

"Call me names, go ahead," Seijūrō taunts. "You've been acting like children this entire week. We should have beaten China by double digits. We should be ahead of Japan now, but you are all so enthralled with yourselves that you've forgotten the most basic of lessons. When you're behind and the time is running out, you cannot depend only on yourself and win the game through your willpower alone, but it's now it is essential to trust your team, pass, and work together." He turns and looks at me, a trace of sadness in his blazing eyes. I can't remember the last time I've seen him so angry. "We learned that in high school, did we not, Shintarō?" He pivots again and holds the coach's eyes with his own flashing orbs. "Put us out on the court and we'll try to clean up this loss, but be prepared, if you don't allow me to be the Point Guard I was born to be, we will lose. Right now…" he sighs from the depths of his gut. "... it may already be too late, but I won't stop trying until the final buzzer."

"That's another lesson we learned in high school," I say, finally finding my voice. It's strange to hear Kuroko's words coming from Seijūrō's mouth and I look up into the stands, finally, to see if he's in attendance. In the crowd of thousands, there is no way I could find him, but I do see Kazu. He's holding Akira and she's waving a crumpled piece of paper that says, "My daddy is the best." I swallow hard, my teeth chattering as I begin to suspect that a loss here will make my baby girl cry. Anger builds in my stomach and I push my glasses up my nose. It's crunch time; I will do anything to make sure that doesn't happen.

The timeout ends with a shrill whistle. Seven of us head to the court. The coach clears his throat. "Montgomery, Bianchi, let's try something different. Take a seat."

I hear their complaints as we continue onto the court. As Mibuchi comes up to the line for his free throw, Seijūrō and I take our places with the others waiting for the rebound, but I know he won't miss. Now that I am no longer living here, he can actually brag he is the number one shooter in Japan.

The shot sinks in without a sound, Seijūrō takes the ball out of bounds and throws it in for me. Kagami is on me in an instant, so I pass the ball back before trying to shake him. Seijūrō brings the ball back down the court. "At least we have your daughter's blessing this time," he says in English. "Let's try not to disappoint her."

A/N: I've written this all along, knowing who was going to win this game, but I'm starting to doubt myself. Writing is hard, lol. Let me know who you think will win the game. Who know's you may change my mind - Kazu.