Everyone knew Aoi Kunisaku was the absolute ruler of the court, and Maki Shinichi's iron-blooded style was already legendary.
But when Sendoh, the guy with the mophead, suddenly stepped into the spotlight, even spectators used to big games couldn't help but rub their eyes.
This figure who had been anonymous before the match was now proving his worth with real skill, triggering wave after wave of cheers throughout the arena.
Sendoh's name had only been known within small basketball circles. Most of the audience, seeing that red number 7, still whispered to each other trying to figure out who he was.
But their doubts were quickly shattered by a series of unbelievably smooth plays.
Sendoh always found the perfect passing angle at the top of the key. The basketball seemed to grow eyes, threading through defenders to fall right into his teammate's hands.
When Aichi launched a Fast Break, he shadowed their core player like a ghost, using seemingly effortless positioning to break the rhythm of their offense.
His style didn't have the air-ripping pressure of Aoi Kunisaku's, but it carried hidden sharpness, like a still lake concealing a blade.
In what looked like a routine dribble upcourt, he suddenly used a behind-the-back dribble to trick his defender, then stopped on a dime and drained a Three-Point Shot.
From the stands, many eyes that had been glued to Aoi Kunisaku began shifting toward this unexpected number 7.
At this moment, the Aichi players' hands holding their jersey hems were trembling slightly.
The strength Sendoh displayed was like an invisible blade, slowly slicing open their overconfidence.
Even though they had heard Kanagawa had a player named Sendoh.
But since he'd never appeared in a national tournament, most of them had scoffed at him deep down.
Yet now, watching him toy with Aichi's defensive core using fakes and drives, cutting apart their line with a full-court pass—those careless sneers had all turned into sharp splinters stuck in their throats.
Every Pass he made seemed to predict the defensive holes in advance. Every Help Defense cut off the opponent's path at just the right time. That instinct for the court didn't feel like it came from someone who'd never played on the national stage.
He was already good enough to be among the nation's top few.
Kanagawa was full of monsters.
Having one Aoi Kunisaku was already insane. Then there was Maki Shinichi. And now, Sendoh too?
In that instant, a shadow fell across the minds of the entire Aichi lineup.
Moroboshi Dai stared at the scoreboard, watching the point gap shrink. His teeth nearly crushed his lower lip.
Before the match, he'd studied Kanagawa's tactics closely, thinking if they locked down Aoi Kunisaku and Maki Shinichi, the rest would collapse.
But now Sendoh was slipping through his defensive scheme like a slick fish, stitching through it all and tearing Aichi's strategy into shreds.
Once again.
Sendoh drove the ball to Aichi's basket.
He was like a red whirlwind sweeping the edge of their Paint, completely immune to Moroboshi Dai's shadowy hand checks.
It was as if he could read Moroboshi's dark intent, dodging danger every time with ease.
Just when Moroboshi's fingers were about to touch the ball, Sendoh suddenly batted it toward the Backboard with his left hand, his body twisting into an impossible angle. He finished a Reverse Hook Shot on the right side of the Rim.
The ball brushed the front of the Rim and dropped in.
Swish—
The ball went in.
On the scoreboard now, the red digits showed 71 to 73.
Just 2 points away. Kanagawa was about to catch up to Aichi.
Crack…
In the invisible space between teams, it was as if a layer of invisible barrier had begun to fracture, making that unmistakable cracking sound like splitting ice echo in everyone's ears.
Aichi's system, built on Morishige Hiroshi's strong interior presence and Moroboshi Dai's perimeter support, was now being pried apart piece by piece by Kanagawa.
The first crack started with Aoi Kunisaku.
His godlike Super High-Speed Dribble and Formless Shot simply couldn't be stopped by Aichi's players.
Even Morishige Hiroshi and Moroboshi Dai could only watch helplessly as he dropped points into their basket again and again.
Aoi Kunisaku had already torn a hole that couldn't be patched.
Sendoh opened the second crack, adding fuel to the fire.
But what Aichi didn't expect was—that those two cracks were only the beginning.
As the Game Clock ticked down, those cracks began to spread.
Then in a moment no one saw coming, the third fracture appeared without warning.
Everyone in Aichi immediately assumed it must be Maki Shinichi.
They were all sure Maki was the one opening the third gap.
But what caught Aichi completely off guard was that the one who truly shattered their defensive wall for the third time—was Mitsui Hisashi.
At the start of the game, Mitsui Hisashi had faced off with Moroboshi Dai. In terms of individual skill, he was slightly at a disadvantage.
Especially since Moroboshi Dai liked to mix in cheap little tricks during Defense.
Elbow jabs to the waist, sly steps on the heel during positioning—every trick made it tough for Mitsui Hisashi to gain ground beyond the Three-Point Line.
But the turning point lay within Kanagawa's team synergy.
The continuous assaults from Aoi Kunisaku and Sendoh were like two blades, splitting Aichi's defense down the middle.
And with Maki Shinichi wreaking havoc in the paint, Moroboshi Dai had no choice but to shift more of his focus that way.
In that fleeting gap, Mitsui Hisashi suddenly faked right half a step. Then using the shadow of Sendoh's screen, he burst left.
Moroboshi Dai's fingertips brushed past his jersey, but it was still half a step too slow.
The moment the open space appeared, Maki Shinichi's pass shot through the air like an arrow loosed from a bow.
The instant Mitsui Hisashi caught the ball, he squatted, jumped, raised his arms. The ball left his fingers with a spin born from years of muscle memory.
The entire motion was so smooth it looked like art. In Moroboshi Dai's suddenly widened pupils, the ball traced an orange arc.
At this moment, Kanagawa's formation locked into place like precisely meshed gears, forming an impenetrable cycle.
No matter whether Aichi chose to double-team Aoi Kunisaku or cling tightly to Sendoh, they'd instantly find some new gap tearing quietly open in their formation.
This was a net woven from Aoi Kunisaku's unstoppable aggressive offense, Sendoh's slippery illusions, Maki Shinichi's inside gravity, and Mitsui Hisashi's threat from deep.
Aichi bench.
Nomoto Reizou stared at the moving bodies on the court. A bitter taste rose in his throat.
He slowly closed his eyes. The reflection from the scoreboard lights glinted off his trembling lashes, scattering the gloom in his eyes into fragments.
It was over. Completely over.
There wasn't a single chance left.
From the moment Kanagawa switched their lineup in the second half, he had a bad feeling creeping in his heart.
Kanagawa's bench depth was something Aichi couldn't dream of matching.
Their players' individual comprehensive strength was just too high. Even with Morishige Hiroshi and Moroboshi Dai combining for a powerful inside-outside duo, they still couldn't hold off this version of Kanagawa.
Time ticked by second after second.
The early momentum from the start of the second half had completely evaporated. Now the court was nothing but Kanagawa's stage—a chaotic dance of demons.
Those "demons" were none other than Kanagawa's players.
On Kanagawa's side, Aoi Kunisaku, Sendoh, Maki Shinichi, Mitsui Hisashi—with Maki Shinichi as the core, constantly created chances for the other three.
Aoi Kunisaku, Sendoh, and Mitsui Hisashi were like three sharp blades stabbing straight into Aichi's heart.
Their Offense was a relentless storm. It tore through Aichi's Defense like tissue paper.
Aichi's players were completely routed. They could only watch helplessly as the point gap grew larger and larger, unable to mount any kind of proper resistance.
Even though Sakuragi Hanamichi hadn't made any major plays, his stubborn grit caused more than enough headaches for Morishige Hiroshi.
Right now, Morishige Hiroshi clenched his back molars, veins bulging from his forehead, his eyes filled with frustration.
Just a moment ago, a spin move had sent Sakuragi staggering, but the red-haired guy still clutched his shoulder and charged back, arms locking tightly around his waist like some mutt you couldn't shake off.
Under the Basket, outside the Three-Point Line—every time Morishige Hiroshi touched the ball, Sakuragi stuck to him like a shadow. Several perfect passes were disrupted, even his surefire catches went off mark.
Driven to the edge by the constant interference, something primal boiled up in Morishige Hiroshi's chest. He flipped a mental switch, unleashing his "wild instinct," hoping to retaliate against Kanagawa.
But that was just wishful thinking. Reality hit hard.
He thought by triggering his wild instincts, he could suppress Kanagawa's swagger.
But the moment he stepped forward to fight back, he realized he was like a wild beast trapped in a web.
Kanagawa's waves of attacks kept crashing in. Aoi Kunisaku's ghostly Passes, Sendoh's effortless Dribble Drives, Mitsui Hisashi's pinpoint Three-Point Shots—all that pressure from every direction tore his focus apart.
Even if he stretched out his arms and stood under the basket like an iron tower, radiating bone-chilling dominance, his teammates were collapsing under Kanagawa's pressure.
He tried to hold up Aichi's Defense on his own. But when Mitsui Hisashi used a Fake to shake off a teammate and sank a Three right over his Block, Morishige Hiroshi finally understood—no matter how fierce a lone fighter was, he couldn't beat a suffocating team assault.
He wasn't Aoi Kunisaku. He couldn't pull off that kind of 1v5 miracle.
Moroboshi Dai, by now, had slipped into a near-numb state.
His eyes clouded over. In that vacant gaze floated helplessness and despair that wouldn't go away. He was like a puppet with its strings cut, lifelessly shuffling around the court.
He'd tried Drive-and-Kick. Tried shooting over screens. Even tried switching up tactics during Timeout. But no matter how hard he struggled, the scoreboard numbers felt like barbed hooks digging into flesh.
That hopelessness chewed away at his reason, until a sinister glint lit up in his eyes.
'If we can't win it straight… then maybe it's time to go dirty.'
He first set his sights on Aoi Kunisaku.
Just as Aoi held the ball and pushed forward, Moroboshi Dai moved in close, fingertips nearly brushing the hem of his jersey. But Aoi gave his wrist a slight flick, and the ball seemed to grow eyes, gliding past Moroboshi's hair.
At the same time, a black shadow carrying the wind surged past his side.
By the time he stumbled and turned, Aoi Kunisaku had already finished an effortless layup under the basket—not even a thread of his jersey grazed Moroboshi's fingers.
Failing to catch Aoi, he shifted his target to Sendoh.
This time, he played it smarter. He hovered beyond the Three-Point Line, pretending to guard casually. The moment Sendoh broke through with the ball, he lashed out with a foot, aiming to trip him by the ankle.
But Sendoh's feint was faster than his dirty trick.
His shoulder dipped left, but his body darted right. The ball danced between his legs, weaving back and forth, leaving double images in Moroboshi's vision.
By the time he snapped back, Sendoh was already rising for a shot near the Free-Throw Line.
The clean swish of the ball hitting net felt like mockery aimed at his pathetic flailing.
Failing again, he clenched his teeth and targeted Maki Shinichi.
Eyeing the man's broad back, he tightened his fist and jabbed an elbow subtly at Maki's lower ribs during a screen.
But Maki's body was like raw iron. The elbow strike only numbed Moroboshi's arm, and Maki's icy glare over his shoulder made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
The next second, Maki suddenly accelerated. His massive frame bulldozed the defense. Moroboshi stumbled and nearly fell from the collision.
Finally, he had no choice but to shift his target back to Mitsui Hisashi.
But Mitsui seemed to have seen through him completely. Every time he got the ball, he kept at least two steps of distance. Outside the Three-Point Line, he'd rise and shoot on the spot, or use screens to zip around, never giving Moroboshi a chance to get close.
Now Moroboshi Dai stood on the court, sweat dripping from his chin and darkening the floor beneath him.
It dawned on him—his sneaky tricks meant nothing in the face of Kanagawa's seamless coordination.
He was just a clown, flailing in vain.
If anyone on the court was feeling the most sour at the moment—besides the players from Aichi—it had to be Sakuragi Hanamichi.
Sakuragi stared at Aoi Kunisaku and the others dominating the game with fiery passion in his eyes. His face screamed envy, jealousy, frustration.
They were playing with fire. And him? Just a block of wood on the court.
The more he thought about it, the more it burned. It was like a fireball stuck in his throat.
"Oi! Old man! Pass me the damn ball already!" He stood on his tiptoes, waving at Maki Shinichi. His veins bulged at his neck as his voice cut through the roaring crowd.
Maki gave him a sidelong glance, then peeked up at the scoreboard, quietly calculating.
Kanagawa held a huge advantage. Even if Sakuragi missed, it wouldn't really matter.
With that thought, he didn't hesitate. He raised his arm and launched a long pass. The basketball sliced through the air like an orange-yellow meteor, flying straight toward Sakuragi.
Pa!
Catching the ball, Sakuragi's eyes lit up with fire. His chest swelled with energy.
"Yeah!" he growled, his muscles tensing all over. He clutched the ball, pivoted hard, sneakers screeching on the floor, then launched himself off the ground. "Big guy, watch my Sakuragi Super Dunk!"
At that moment, he was like a coiled spring unleashed. Determination radiated off him. Even his hair seemed to jump with him. His eyes locked on the rim—he was dead set on throwing it down.
Of course, Morishige Hiroshi wasn't going to just let him dunk.
Though Aichi was now behind, Morishige had never feared anyone.
As soon as he saw Sakuragi take off, he followed without hesitation. His hulking body rose like a moving cliff. In a flash, he was in Sakuragi's face, casting a dark shadow over his view of the hoop.
"Get outta my way!" Sakuragi's eyes went wide as he roared like a beast. His expression was fierce, almost distorted.
He didn't slow down at all. Instead, he raised the ball even higher. Muscles bulged in his arms like solid stone. It was as if he was pouring his whole soul into this dunk.
Morishige's long arm was already swinging. The wind it stirred stung Sakuragi's cheek.
This Block came with the power of thunder and fury. His palm aimed to slam the ball out of Sakuragi's hands.
PA!!
A deafening crack echoed across the court.
Everyone watched in stunned silence as the Sakuragi who had just moments ago seemed ready to shatter the hoop... now flew backward like a puppet with its strings cut. His body stretched into a straight line in midair, nearly parallel to the ground.
The ball had already been slapped into a wild arc, flipping through the air past Half-Court and still soaring.
That alone told you how much force Morishige Hiroshi had put into that Block.
As stunned eyes followed, shocked into silence—
BOOM!
A heavy thud followed.
Sakuragi's back slammed into the hardwood with a brutal crash. The shock even made nearby players feel it in their legs. The floor beneath him trembled.
He lay there like a puddle of mud, sprawled on the floor. His red hair was a messy clump stuck to his forehead. He panted heavily, eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling, completely out of it.
For a moment, the entire gym fell into an eerie silence.
Everyone had their eyes wide open, mouths slightly agape, dumbfounded as they stared at the figure crumpled on the court.
"That was loud… is that guy okay?" Sendoh stared at the collapsed Sakuragi Hanamichi, Adam's apple bobbing as he muttered.
Maki Shinichi pressed his lips together without saying a word, though a flicker of concern crossed his gaze.
That Block just now—its impact was so intense that even standing a few meters away, he felt his heart skip.
Mitsui Hisashi walked over to the downed Sakuragi, squatted down, and called softly, "Oi… Sakuragi… you alright?"
Sakuragi Hanamichi didn't respond.
He just lay there, eyes still locked on the gym ceiling, blankly staring upward like he'd passed out.
Mitsui waved a hand in front of his face.
Only then did Sakuragi blink. And then—whoosh—he suddenly sprang up from the floor.
"Agh… it hurts… it hurts…!" Sakuragi hissed through clenched teeth as he clutched his lower back, then glared at Morishige Hiroshi and shouted, "You bastard! How dare you do that to me!"
Morishige looked down at him and said flatly, "You can still stand? Thought you'd be done for."
"What did you say—!" Sakuragi roared, hopping in place, the pain in his back completely forgotten. He looked like a furious cat with its tail stepped on.
Sendoh watched Sakuragi hopping around, yelling and waving his fists, and couldn't help but smile. "Looks like he's fine."
Maki stood quietly to the side, lips barely twitching, but gave a small nod.
On Kanagawa's bench, Ayako and the others also let out a breath of relief.
The game resumed.
"Damn it, I'm not letting him get away with that." Sakuragi muttered furiously while rubbing his lower back and stomping his feet as he ran back.
The ball was now in Aichi's hands.
Moroboshi Dai hunched low, sneakers squeaking across the court as he followed Morishige Hiroshi toward Kanagawa's basket.
Just as he was thinking about how to attack this play, he saw Morishige suddenly power through Sakuragi's defense and charge into Kanagawa's paint. He raised his hand, signaling for the ball.
Moroboshi thought for a moment, then decided to pass.
He faked a drive to lure Sendoh's defense, then flicked his wrist, sending the ball through his ribs in a sharp bounce pass.
Pa!
As soon as the ball landed in Morishige's hands, the entire gym's atmosphere seemed to thicken.
His muscles bulged, spine taut under his jersey like solid rock. A wild pressure poured out of him, like the still air before a storm, pressing on everyone's chest.
He held the ball with both hands, then suddenly spun hard. Sakuragi, trying to block him, felt like a mountain had slammed into him. His feet skidded across the floor, leaving two white trails as he staggered backward.
"Damn it…" Sakuragi cursed in his head, but he stubbornly regained his footing right away.
But by the time he'd stabilized, Morishige had already completed the spin. His mountain-like back now faced him. The ball was raised high, sneakers squealing as he prepped to take off.
"You're not getting away with it!" With a flash in his eyes, Sakuragi leapt to Block without a second thought.
But he was too eager. He'd pushed off too hard, throwing off his balance. He flew forward like a cannonball gone rogue.
His heart clenched—'Crap!'—as he scrambled to adjust. But Morishige had already risen off the ground, casting a massive shadow over the rim.
In that chaotic moment, maybe due to his desperation to steady himself, maybe just bad footing, Sakuragi slipped and lunged forward.
In pure reflex, he reached out—his fingers caught on Morishige's shorts.
A ripping sound echoed—fabric tearing—followed by gasps all around.
Morishige's body suddenly jerked in mid-air. His dunking motion fell apart. The basketball slammed against the front of the rim, bounced half a meter upward, and rolled out of bounds.
CLANG…
THUD…
The thump of the failed dunk and Sakuragi crashing to the floor rang out nearly at the same time.
But the gym fell completely silent. Like someone hit mute on the entire crowd.
One second passed…
Two seconds…
Three seconds…
Then—someone couldn't hold it in anymore.
A burst of laughter exploded through the silence like a thunderclap.
The entire gym was instantly lit up like a powder keg. Waves of laughter surged from the stands, sweeping over the whole court.
HAHAHAHAHAHA…!
"Hahahaha… what was that?!"
"Oh man, that red-haired guy—what did he just do?!"
"His pants came down! What kinda defense is that?!"
"Was that Kanagawa center doing it on purpose or what?!"
"I can't… my stomach… I'm dying… hahahahaha!"
…