There's no rule demanding realism in sports anime and even shows like Megalo Box, which frame boxing within a sci-fi setting, are mostly believable in their execution. However, 2012's Kuroko no Basket started boldly and only stretched that suspension of disbelief farther and farther until for some, it snapped thunderously.

Based on the manga by Tadatoshi Fujimaki, Kuroko no Basket began in 2012, produced by Production I.G., who would produce volleyball anime sensation Haikyuu two years later. It tells the story of Kuroko, a short basketball player who can't shoot baskets well but can pass excellently, teaming up with Kagami, a taller, natural athlete, to help skyrocket their team to success. What sets Kuroko no Basket apart from a lot of other, tamer sports anime is the hilariously committed presentation of the lore that builds the foundation for this series. Kuroko isn't just weirdly good at passing, but was the sixth of a team of inhumanly talented players at Teiko Middle School who became titled the "Generation of Miracles."

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The Miracles

kuroko's basketball the generation of miracles

This group of exceptionally talented basketball players split up dramatically at the end of middle school and each went to different high schools where they became the ultimate weapons of their respective teams. The series sees Kuroko, Kagami, and the rest of the team at Seirin High School training to defeat the other miracles in the championship.

Each new miracle has a unique look and color palette that sets them apart, the first of the show's visual methods of heightening the world in which these games are played. Each one of them excels in a particular talent that is presented so dramatically as if it is their superpower. For example, Kise, the first miracle Seirin faces, is talented at copying other players' movements.

Framing physical talents such as these like powers is an effective shorthand to demonstrate what kind of hurdles the protagonists have to overcome. While other shows will write characters with a particular specialty, few will do it quite as exaggerated as Kuroko does. And none of that flash robs the dramatic highs of their weight.

The first two seasons, in particular, are thrilling thanks to a creative clash of skills and colors dashing along the court. The climaxes of both seasons are wrought with nail-biting finishes, heartbreaking defeats that give way to training arcs to come back, and previous antagonists facing off against new ones.

Each of the miracles has a distinct presence and threat that is made known immediately, and every one of their victories and defeats hit hard. Dramatically, this series knows how to set up exciting games that stretch the believability of the shot clock the same way Dragon Ball stretches a minute out into twenty episodes. In that sense, Kuroko no Basket is also very funny.

You're In High School, Chill

murasakibara atsushi oozing a purplish aura while facing different players

The character designs, as striking and memorable as they are, are the equivalent of casting 30-year-olds as high schoolers. Frankly, any attempt at a live-action Kuroko no Basket would fall flat should the characters actually look their age. In fact, the character drama can be a double-edged sword, serving both great action and some interpersonal drama that shouldn't be taken too seriously.

There's no need to bemoan sports shows taking the sport seriously, as it is perfectly understandable why the characters take it seriously. The hours spent training and coordinating with others to achieve victory is something very meaningful and losing can be heartbreaking. Capturing that drama is what makes shows like this and Haikyuu so great.

However, Kuroko no Basket's core character struggle is predicated on the existence of children so good at basketball that their skills would easily get them scouted for the organization from Spriggan as much as college basketball. These kids could be super soldiers with no problem, at least based on the presentation of their skills.

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Perhaps that's why some drama outside the games themselves can feel hard to take seriously. The Generation of Miracles breaking up was simply because they were so inhumanly good that the game was no longer fun. Their egos got too big, and they weren't really a team anymore, just superpowers doing their own thing.

It's not exactly relatable, but that supernatural element - viewed as something heightened and exaggerated - could arguably not be the point. It's a show about why teamwork is important and how the game is played because it's fun to play with friends. That is a fine message, but the way it is expressed can be overblown for some.

Getting in "The Zone"

aomine daiki in the zone with the ball

When characters display their talents, the visualization of these skills is meant to convey how it appears to the people observing these skills. Talents that take advantage of people's attention span will often be visualized by the basketball seemingly disappearing. So there is a large reliance on visual metaphor.

The explanations for these talents are a bit much but early on it strikes a good balance thanks to the weaknesses of characters like Kuroko, whose skills compensate for their shortcomings. He is a valuable player because he uses subtle misdirection to make the ball seemingly disappear as he passes it to other players.

A lot of the miracles and their abilities can be explained away well enough as visual metaphors covering what is just exceptional skill. However, as the series continues, it isn't just new characters being added. Existing characters also hone their talents and create new skills or unearth some untapped potential.

"The Zone" is to Kuroko no Basket what Super Saiyan is to Dragon Ball, and on its own, it's absolutely incredible to watch unfold. But the characters talk about it like it's a real superpower within basketball players, rather than just a metaphor for adrenaline taking over.

The final opponent of the TV series has an ability so beyond the reach of pseudo-scientific justification as to feel like outright self-parody and an acceptance of the absurdity up to that point. Even by the standard set up to that point, it's a little too silly and risks killing the vibe for some viewers, though perhaps by the third season, one is in it for the long haul.

Does It Really Matter?

aomine and kagami competing against each other after they entered the zone

In truth, the ridiculousness rarely sullies the sheer adrenaline of these fights. In fact, just rewatching the dual on the court between Aomine and Kagami from season two is enough to throw any list of complaints out the window. An entire game suddenly boils down to two players in their absolute element. It's their world and everyone else in the court is just living in it.

A lot of this is a testament to the exhilarating score by Yoshihiro Ike and the animation work by Production I.G. that might be some of their best outside of Ghost in the Shell. Moments like the duel between Aomine and Kagami have such incredible pacing, but also insane attention to detail that delivers the fight with less unnecessary exposition.

Kuroko no Basket is definitely one of the most insane sports anime to ever get made and despite its quirky and sometimes edgy delivery, it earns its praise far more than it raises doubt about it. It's a fine display of what sports anime does so well: turning the simplest high school sport into the most intense thing ever.

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