Toyonaka versus Kurama.
Though battered and bruised, Toyonaka came out like warriors possessed. They'd studied the Kurama team's limitations during their previous matches, and now they pressed every weakness like master tacticians.
Buzz was held under control thanks to coordinated doubles. Renjiro's three-point rain was disrupted by tight contests. Yu Tamura's lack of physical contact was punished with aggressive drives, while Masaru's jump limitations were exploited by Haruto and Daichi relentlessly hammering the paint.
And Masaki?
Masaki King unleashed hell.
The court belonged to him. He turned every mistake into punishment, every crack into a flood. Kurama's defense couldn't cage his rhythm. He was flowing—cutting, spinning, pulling up, finishing through contact. He played like a man possessed, a warrior who had tasted the bitterness of loss and refused to be humbled again.
But even with Toyonaka's resurgence, the Kurama team didn't break.
They bent. Adjusted.
