In a way, I'm still wishing that Kaijou won against Seirin in the Winter Cup, mostly for Kasamatsu's sake. Anyway, this is my version of what Kasamatsu tells the team after the game. Reviews are always appreciated.

We waited outside the exit, gathered in a tight-knit group against the bitter cold. Our breath froze in delicate wisps, but no one said a word. What was there to say? Kise had broken down after the match, and we could still see clear tracks running down his face as he hid his eyes from us. It was nice, in a way, to know that he cared enough about the team to cry, not just for himself, but for all of us. Yes, he'd cried after our loss to Seirin in the spring practice match, but those had been selfish, stunned tears. Now he really was our ace, who had helped us fight so hard against Seirin for the second time, the MVP.

Kise wasn't the only teary-eyed one, either. Hayakawa was still sniffing quietly, Moriyama had his eyes closed, Kobori was staring at the sky, and Nakamura was examining the ground. Coach stood silently, separated from us by a few feet. His comforting, encouraging words in the locker room had fallen on deaf ears and stiff backs. What words would have helped? We could hear the low roar of spectators exiting through the main doors on the other side of the building. The sound of cars carried in the crisp air. Someone laughed, but it wasn't a player from Kaijou.

Our fingers and toes started to freeze, and someone shifted in place, trying to keep warm. The regulars and Nakamura were motionless, lost in thoughts about how to improve. Excess adrenaline from the match that had carried us down the torturous hallway to the locker room was wearing off, and exhaustion was taking over our bodies, even those of us who had been on the bench, but no one spoke. It was as if, in this moment of crushing defeat, that we all gained the power of telepathy. Without any form of physical communication, we all knew why we were waiting, and we all knew that when the captain joined us, he would be prepared to shoulder our sadness, to free us. So we waited.

We waited as Seirin came out of the other team exit, laughing and care-free even though they would be facing Rakuzan tomorrow. They didn't see us—the silent, crumpled knights in noble blue—and no one from our huddled mass called out to them. What was there left to say that the regulars hadn't told them after the match? What can the losers possibly say to the winners besides 'good game'?

Moriyama turned to the exit as the door swung outwards to reveal our captain, clad in his track suit, bag swung over a shoulder, face set into his usual determined scowl. He looked normal, not like he had been crying his heart out alone to keep us from worrying. His footsteps were audible as he approached us and looked each one of us in the eye. Nakamura raised his head to stare back, and Kise wiped the watery residue from his eyes.

"We have made it to the best four in all of Japan. Hold your heads high," he stated, his voice ringing through our fatigue as we clung to them desperately for mental support in our physical bodies. "We gave our best today, and we have to be ready to do the same tomorrow." He didn't need to shout to be heard. "Well go back to the hotel, eat, and watch Shuutoku's game tapes." He paused, then raised the index finger of his right hand in his iconic pose he used to strengthen our focus whenever we were on the court. We could almost imagine him dribbling a ball in his other hand "Let's starts with one win." Kise snorted.

"That's such a lame pose, senpai, especially off the court," he said, lacking most of his usual spunk, and made his way to the front of the group to face Kasamatsu. "You don't need to worry about us. We'll definitely beat Midorimacchi's team, just for you."

"My pose is lame, huh?" came Kasamatsu's instantaneous reply. "I'll hit you and teach you to respect your elders," he said even as he gave Kise a light punch to the bicep. The other regulars, laughing only slightly too loudly to be natural, separated the two. Kasamatsu straightened up, turned back to the rest of us, and motioned for us to follow him as he started walking back to the hotel. The regulars fell into step around him with Nakamura close behind. They made an odd grouping as they all towered over the captain, and we had to smile. Of course they were purposefully trying to lighten the mood, and it wasn't working, but their effort spurred us forward.

'This is our captain,' we thought as one. 'These are our teammates. They are strong. They are men among men. They will take the next step forward and we will follow. We will win.' We fell into step behind the lead group, watching their dependable backs as coach followed at the back to make sure no one was left behind. Our communal breath filled the air with white smoke, and we hardened our resolve once again to win for our Kaijo, to win for our valiant Nkamura, to win for our ace willing to put his body and future on the line, to win for our kindhearted Koboi, to win for our calm and collected Moriyama, to win for our hard-working Hayakawa, and to win for our captain, who would willingly take on all of our heartaches and muscle pains so that we could play at our best. We were on the patch to victory. Our heads were held high on that short walk back to the hotel, not because we were one of the four best teams in Japan but because we had the best captain in all of Japan.