Kanagawa's bench.
Uozumi Jun kept his head down. His arms hung limp at his sides. His chest heaved with each breath. That tall frame of his now looked like all its strength had been drained, slumped lifelessly in his seat.
Everyone around exchanged glances but no one said a word. Their lips parted, but in the end, they just lowered their eyes in silence. No one knew what to say.
Akagi Takenori slowly sat upright from his seat. His soles scraped softly against the floor.
He took a step forward. His throat bobbed as if to speak, but the moment he saw Uozumi like that, all the words he had prepared turned bitter on his tongue.
Memories rushed in like a tide. That overwhelming defeat at the hands of Morishige Hiroshi. His own helplessness back then. Uozumi now overlapped with the image of his past self.
That deep frustration and self-doubt—he knew them too well.
In the end, Akagi just sighed without a word and slowly sat back down. Pain and empathy clouded his eyes.
In the heavy silence, Shimizu Kanon suddenly stepped forward.
She cleared her throat. Her gentle, sweet voice cut through the gloom. "It looks like they wanted to crush us in one go and lock in a lead by halftime. But for some reason, they backed off. Maybe it was because of Rukawa Kaede's sudden awakening. Or maybe… they were waiting for us to switch players."
She furrowed her brows, lightly tapping her chin with a finger. "My guess is, it was Rukawa Kaede's awakening."
Then she swept her gaze across the group and added meaningfully, "Or… maybe they were waiting for us to show our real hand."
"You mean they were holding back in the first half?" Miyagi Ryota leaned forward, thoughtful light flashing in his eyes.
Shimizu Kanon nodded. "Yes. It's not hard to guess. We've become too visible, and our strength isn't really a secret anymore."
At her words, everyone fell into silence.
Takato Riki had been quietly seated all this time. Now he slowly stood, his sharp, clean suit exuding presence.
He lightly fanned himself with a paper fan. His gaze swept over each player. His voice was calm and firm. "I expected this might happen. If they're saving strength waiting for our move, then we can't hold back either."
He paused, then added, "Let's give them a surprise right at the start of the second half."
…
Aichi's bench.
Nomoto Reizou leaned back in his chair, arms folded, watching the sweaty players return with heavy steps. His lips curled into a subtle smirk. He clapped his knees with satisfaction. "Not bad. Even if we didn't force out their trump card, we've still taken the initiative."
He squinted, his eyes cutting across the court to land on Kanagawa's bench. He muttered, "I'm guessing they'll bring out their real lineup in the second half."
Moroboshi Dai lay half-sprawled on the bench, furiously wiping sweat from his face with a towel.
A dangerous gleam lurked in his eyes. His voice was low, but the authority in it couldn't be missed. "Some unexpected crap happened earlier, but I'll settle the score in the second half. I don't care who it is."
Nomoto Reizou glanced at him but said nothing.
He too was the kind of person who'd do anything to win. Just not quite as extreme. Otherwise, he'd have already stopped Morishige Hiroshi from 'accidentally' injuring opponents.
But on the court, victory was everything.
Morishige Hiroshi, on the other hand, wore a calm look. A flicker of curiosity danced in his eyes. "I wonder if he'll play. I didn't beat him last time, and it left a bad taste."
Nomoto Reizou knew exactly who he meant. His lips curled into a knowing grin. "Even if he doesn't, just beat everyone else. He'll have no choice but to show up."
Morishige Hiroshi's eyes lit up. He suddenly looked sharper. "Old man… you're right. Just crush them all."
Halftime ended quickly.
At the ref's signal, both teams returned to the court.
But the moment Kanagawa's players stepped onto the court, everyone—fans and Aichi players alike—immediately noticed something was off.
The lineup was completely different from the first half.
Kanagawa's second-half starting lineup:
Center: Sakuragi Hanamichi, 1st Year. (Shohoku)
Small Forward: Sendoh Akira, 2nd Year. (Ryonan)
Power Forward: Aoi Kunisaku, 1st Year. (Shohoku)
Shooting Guard: Mitsui Hisashi, 3rd Year. (Shohoku)
Point Guard: Maki Shinichi, 3rd Year. (Kainan)
When this lineup appeared, everyone's eyes widened. Those who knew the team well looked utterly stunned.
Among them, the most shaken was basketball magazine reporter Aida Yayoi, who knew every Kanagawa team like the back of her hand.
Aoi Kunisaku, Sendoh, Maki Shinichi—those three alone were already jaw-dropping.
And that wasn't even counting Mitsui Hisashi, the junior high MVP, or Sakuragi Hanamichi, the rookie growing at an insane pace.
That young player who'd sometimes even surpass Akagi Takenori in raw impact—he always brought surprises.
Now this group had formed a team.
What kind of fireworks would they spark on the court?
Everyone couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement.
Aida Yayoi's eyes shone with brilliance. It was as if flames flickered in her pupils. Even her fingers holding the camera trembled slightly.
As she mumbled to herself, she raised her camera toward the court. The shutter clicked nonstop—ka-cha ka-cha—as if trying to capture every expression, every thrilling moment on the court.
Morishige Hiroshi stood tall like a mountain. The moment he saw Aoi Kunisaku step onto the court, he grinned. There was a wild glint in that smile—like a beast spotting its prey. He muttered low, "You finally stepped on."
On the other side.
Moroboshi Dai narrowed his eyes. His gaze was sharp like a hawk. He locked tightly onto Kanagawa's new lineup. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, laced with provocation. "Hmph… so you couldn't sit still after all. I'll send you right back down soon enough."
He didn't speak loudly, but it was just enough for Aoi Kunisaku and the others to hear.
Maki Shinichi turned calmly to face him. His eyes sharp, his tone firm and heavy with dominance. "You've said that before. If you can do it…"
Right as the tension between both sides peaked—
BEEP…
A sharp whistle tore through the tight air above the court.
Kanagawa vs. Aichi. The second half officially began.
Flashback: A few minutes earlier.
Kanagawa's bench was clouded with tension and a quiet stir of restlessness.
"Substitution?" Sakuragi Hanamichi jumped to his feet, full of excitement.
His eyes sparkled as he pointed at himself. "Old gorilla, put me in! I'll teach that big guy a lesson!"
Smack!
A sharp sound.
Ayako's paper fan shot out like lightning, landing square on Sakuragi's forehead. She scolded, annoyed, "Don't make up nicknames like that. Show some respect. Call him 'coach.'"
Sakuragi Hanamichi clutched his head and winced, mumbling, "I know, I know!"
But even as he said that, his restless eyes kept staring straight at Takato Riki.
Takato crossed his arms. A sly smile played at the corners of his mouth. He clearly didn't mind the 'old gorilla' nickname at all.
He adjusted his glasses, the lenses flashing cold light. "That first-half lineup struggled against a guy like Morishige Hiroshi. We need to bump up our firepower."
He swept his gaze across everyone, then spoke slowly. "Next on court… Point Guard: Maki. Shooting Guard: Mitsui Hisashi. Center…"
At the word "Center," his gaze drifted between Akagi Takenori's stoic face and Hanagata Toru's elegant one.
"I—I—I…" Sakuragi Hanamichi rose on tiptoe, waving his arms frantically in front of Takato's face. "Pick me… pick me… pick me…"
Takato rubbed his chin in thought, then calmly said, "Center… Sakuragi Hanamichi."
"Yes!!" the moment he heard his name, Sakuragi leapt for joy.
Ayako pressed her palm to her forehead and sighed, exasperated. "What are we gonna do with him? Always making a scene."
Shimizu Kanon smiled gently, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She quietly watched without interrupting.
Though she had thoughts of her own, she knew full well—he was the coach.
Takato coughed twice, signaling for quiet. Then he continued, "Small Forward: Sendoh."
"And finally, Power Forward…" he turned to the laid-back Aoi Kunisaku. "Aoi Kunisaku, feel like stretching your legs?"
Aoi Kunisaku looked up at him. Then he casually swept his gaze across the Aichi side.
His eyes paused on Moroboshi Dai and Morishige Hiroshi.
Then he stood up and said lazily, "Well, I'm tired of sitting anyway. Might as well stretch a bit."
Sendoh grinned, a light of anticipation in his eyes. "Teaming up with you? That's gonna be fun."
Maki also smiled faintly. "I'll feed you the ball whenever I can."
"Oi, oi, don't say it so bluntly!" Sendoh said in mock protest. "At least pretend you'll pass to me too!"
Maki joked back, "That depends on your position."
Mitsui Hisashi cut in. "You guys better not forget we have the three-point line too."
"You guys just ignoring me now?" Sakuragi looked annoyed as he glared at the group chatting away.
Aoi Kunisaku didn't even glance at him and said flatly, "Just stay out of the way and make some space."
"What did you say?!" Sakuragi shouted, furious.
Mitsui added, "Don't get wrecked by Morishige again."
Sakuragi clenched his jaw like he was constipated. "I don't need you to tell me that!"
Sendoh smiled. "Good luck out there."
"Brush-head," Sakuragi shot back.
Maki checked the time. "It's about time. Let's move."
"Old man," Sakuragi muttered as he followed.
…
Back to the present.
Sakuragi Hanamichi stepped onto the court and marched straight up to Morishige Hiroshi. His eyes locked onto him like a small beast ready to pounce.
Morishige looked down at the red-haired boy glaring up at him. His brows didn't even twitch. He looked half-interested.
They stared at each other in silence, sparks flying invisibly between them.
"Big guy, I'm gonna beat you," Sakuragi declared first, his tone full of stubborn fire.
Morishige stared at his red hair for a second, then suddenly grinned like a fool. "I remember now. You're that redhead I knocked over last time."
"Oi! Were you even listening?!" Sakuragi roared, veins popping at his temple.
"Player, please return to your position quickly," the referee reminded.
Sakuragi Hanamichi glanced over at the official, then gave a cold snort toward Kanagawa before turning back and heading to his spot.
Soon, both teams were ready.
BEEP…
The referee blew the whistle to start the second half and tossed the basketball into the air.
Sakuragi Hanamichi and Morishige Hiroshi leapt simultaneously. They rose like two towering pines, arms stretching upward toward the ball.
BANG…
Under everyone's gaze, Morishige was the first to touch the ball and successfully secured possession.
Sakuragi Hanamichi came up empty.
"Dammit…" he grumbled, frustrated. Even though he jumped with all his might, there was still a clear gap between them.
Morishige's hand clamped the ball like a steel vice. With a light flick, he directed it toward Moroboshi Dai.
The ball drew an arc and landed toward Moroboshi's hand.
Smack…
A sharp sound rang out.
The next instant, the feel of the ball in his hands suddenly vanished. The ball had been swatted clean from his grip.
"What?" Moroboshi Dai widened his eyes and quickly turned his head.
Sendoh Akira had somehow appeared right beside him, palm rising from below to knock the ball loose.
Using his sharp read and quick hands, Sendoh stole the ball clean from Moroboshi.
He instinctively tried to charge forward, hoping to catch the defense before it reset.
But Moroboshi wasn't slow. The moment the ball slipped from his hands, he pounced toward Sendoh like a gust of wind.
The two ran shoulder-to-shoulder. Moroboshi hounded Sendoh step for step, making it nearly impossible for him to move forward smoothly. The attack rhythm was totally disrupted.
With no time to hesitate, Sendoh suddenly faked a drive forward while keeping his eyes locked ahead.
Moroboshi bit the bait and stepped wrong.
In that flash of a moment, Sendoh took the chance and smoothly passed the ball to Maki Shinichi on the wing.
Maki moved like a coiled leopard, easily shaking off the Aichi point guard defending him.
The second the ball landed in his hands, he burst into speed. His legs were like loaded springs as he exploded toward the basket. His figure blurred like an afterimage streaking across the court.
Seeing this, Moroboshi cursed in his head. He gave up chasing Sendoh and quickly turned to defend.
But the moment he took his first step, a figure blocked his path—it was Sendoh again.
Sendoh stood right in his way like a tree planted firmly into the ground.
Moroboshi's pupils shrank. A jolt ran through his brain, and realization dawned.
He looked at the calm smile in Sendoh's eyes and growled in disbelief, "You bastard… you did this on purpose?"
Sendoh didn't answer. The smile on his lips remained the same.
But to Moroboshi, that smile was pure mockery.
'Dammit, I fell for it,' Moroboshi seethed.
Meanwhile, Maki brought the ball to Aichi's three-point line.
Right in front of Aichi's shooting guard and under Morishige's watchful eyes, he jumped and took the shot.
A three-point shot?
Aichi's defenders froze.
Was he really that confident? Or bluffing?
Either way, they couldn't let him shoot.
The shooting guard jumped to block. Arms stretched as high as possible.
Morishige tried to step up to add pressure, but ran right into Sakuragi Hanamichi.
Sakuragi was giving it his all to box out in front of Morishige. He couldn't close in on Maki in time.
Even so, Morishige brute-forced his way past Sakuragi, muscling forward.
"Heavy… damn it…" Sakuragi's feet slid, his sneakers squealing against the court.
Despite pressure from the defender, Maki released the shot.
But the shot wasn't straight—it veered slightly off.
The ball zipped past Aichi's shooting guard.
Even Morishige hadn't expected Maki's shot to take that path.
Everyone's eyes locked onto the ball.
A moment later, their pupils shrank.
A figure flashed into view in the ball's flight path.
It moved so fast, it blurred from vision.
Before anyone could react, the figure caught the ball cleanly and soared toward the basket—then came a thunderous dunk.
BANG…
The rim thundered from the slam.
The ball dropped through the net.
As the figure landed from the dunk, everyone's eyes finally locked on the young face.
Sweat clung to his sharp haircut. His collar shifted from movement, showing damp skin beneath.
It was Aoi Kunisaku—who had just finished the jaw-dropping dunk.
So fast.
Every Aichi player felt a chill run down their neck.
Recalling that moment just now, the lightning-fast figure still burned into their vision. They hadn't even seen his face clearly—only a blur of red streaking past the baseline.
It was unreal.
Morishige Hiroshi's expression darkened. For once, he looked genuinely unhappy.
Moroboshi Dai's fingernails nearly pierced his palm.
The image of their crushing defeat at the national tournament exploded in his mind: that same red jersey, those same ghostlike movements, and him fumbling the ball helplessly.
"Ao…i… Kunisaku…" His lips moved. The name rolled from his throat like ice-laced venom.
For reasons he couldn't explain, a deep-rooted fear of Aoi Kunisaku swelled in his chest.
That feeling of powerlessness against absolute speed—it was like an invisible hand clenching his heart. He could barely breathe.
Kanagawa 46 to 55 Aichi.
The second half had just begun, and Aoi Kunisaku opened it with a thunderous dunk for 2 points.
Possession changed.
"Pass it to me." Moroboshi Dai's low growl sliced the air like a drawn blade.
Aichi's point guard flinched. The ball arced into Moroboshi's hands.
He took off like an arrow loosed, only to slam headfirst into Mitsui Hisashi's iron defense.
Unlike Shinso Ichiro's steady style, Mitsui's defense was sharp and ruthless.
Even though stopping Moroboshi was no small task, he used perfect positioning to lock him out past the three-point line.
They clashed fiercely at the top of the arc, their feet weaving, clothes rustling. Neither gave an inch.
Then, Moroboshi's eyes narrowed. He spun, elbow driving like a steel rod into Mitsui's ribs.
THUD…
A dull impact echoed.
Pain exploded along Mitsui's side. His body froze.
Moroboshi seized the chance, darted past him. But instead of charging the paint, he pulled up just outside the arc and launched a three-point shot.
WHOOSH…
The ball sliced through the air, a gleaming silver arc, and dropped cleanly through the center of the rim.
SWISH…
The net fluttered.
Kanagawa 46 to 58 Aichi.
Mitsui, snapping out of the pain, glared daggers at Moroboshi. "You bastard…"
Moroboshi shot him a sidelong glance. Eyes half-lidded, he acted like nothing happened. "What are you talking about?"
Then he turned back to defend.
Watching his retreating back, Mitsui's eyes burned with fury. "Despicable piece of trash…"
The game pressed on.
Maki Shinichi's dribbling pounded the floor like war drums. The sharp, rhythmic bam-bam-bam of the ball echoed through the court like a heartbeat.
Aichi's point guard stepped up to defend—but in a blink, Maki's cross left him stumbling. Three steps later, he was dust in the wind.
"Here!" Mitsui raised his hand, palm cupped, eyes glowing.
Maki glanced briefly at Aoi Kunisaku, then flicked his wrist.
The pass streaked like a comet straight into Mitsui's hands.
Mitsui locked eyes with Moroboshi the second he caught the ball.
BAM… BAM… BAM…
He drove fast toward the three-point line.
Moroboshi stepped in, cutting him off. Their eyes clashed—an invisible crackle filled the air.
Mitsui dropped his stance, the ball flashing between hands. He feinted hard, his shoulder brushing Moroboshi's nose.
Then—
Moroboshi stepped right on Mitsui's foot.
Pain stabbed through Mitsui's toes. His foot buckled. The feint faltered.
SLAP—
Moroboshi pounced like a panther, swatting the ball from Mitsui's hands.
Grabbing it clean, he turned and dashed down the court like the wind. His figure blurred as he streaked toward Kanagawa's basket.
"That bastard…" Mitsui stumbled, trying to steady himself.
The injured toe screamed. It was like a hammer smashed it flat. Sweat broke across his forehead.
But Mitsui was too proud to back down. He clenched his teeth and forced himself to chase.
Every step felt like he was running on knives.
He gave it everything. But he couldn't catch up.
Moroboshi reached the arc without a single obstacle.
He exhaled sharply, planted his feet, bent his knees, and leapt—spring-loaded. Eyes locked on the hoop. He fired.
Just as the ball was leaving his hand, a black streak slashed downward—SMACK!
Wind howled behind him. Moroboshi felt it—a crushing presence at his back.
WHAM—
The ball was gone. His fingers curled around empty air.
He spun around, stunned, disbelieving.
His pupils dilated.
Standing behind him—the one who had destroyed that shot—was none other than Aoi Kunisaku.