Drip…
The whistle blew.
The first half ended.
The scoreboard displayed 54–32.
Ryonan had gone on an 8–0 run in the final two minutes, extending their lead to 22 points. Yet, despite the comfortable margin, the Ryonan players walked off the court with grim expressions, their steps heavy, and a burning fire kindling in their eyes.
Ryonan Locker Room
Koshino Hiroaki gulped down water in large swigs before slamming the bottle onto the floor. "Those bastards from Miuradai… using such dirty tactics!"
The burn in his side throbbed faintly, a reminder of the fouls they had endured. Without a shred of restraint, he would have stormed back to confront Miuradai.
Ryoji Ikegami rubbed his shoulder, muttering in agreement. "Playing like this is suffocating… I want to teach them a lesson."
Sendo leaned against the wall, his gaze sweeping silently over Tomoyuki Uekusa. "Uekusa… are you alright?"
Uekusa lowered his head, fingers unconsciously rubbing the scratches on his wrist, and nodded faintly. "I'm fine."
His voice was soft, almost muted, carrying a quiet weight of frustration and suppressed gloom.
Then his gaze shifted to Uozumi, sitting quietly in the corner. "You should be more concerned about Uozumi-senpai… his arm."
Everyone followed his line of sight.
Uozumi's forearm was marbled with deep purple bruises. Red welts stretched from elbow to wrist, edges ragged with small scratches as if clawed deliberately.
The air seemed to freeze.
Koshino's eyes flared with fury. "No… I'm going to find the referee and call them out. This isn't basketball—it's intentional injury! I'll get them suspended!"
He stormed toward the door, but a calm, low, yet undeniably commanding voice stopped him.
"There's no need."
Akashi, previously silent, stood slowly, his gaze locking on Koshino. "Even if you go, it won't matter. The referee's decision won't change easily."
Koshino gritted his teeth. "I can't just let this happen!"
Akashi ignored him, scanning Uozumi and the others before settling on Uekusa. "Uekusa… you're out for the second half."
Huh?
Uekusa froze, pupils widening in a mix of disbelief and a flicker of excitement. "Captain… are you going to play yourself?"
The locker room seemed to pause. All eyes turned to Akashi.
Tall, straight, and poised, he exuded calm authority. His heterochromatic eyes—gold and crimson—reflected nothing, yet radiated a chilling sense of control.
"Ah… it's been a while since I've moved." He flexed his wrist lightly, knuckles cracking softly. A subtle curve appeared at the corner of his mouth. "I'll show them the meaning of respect."
His gaze, fathomless and intense, seemed to spin like twin abysses, ready to consume all obstacles.
The Ryonan players simply stared, frozen.
Miuradai Locker Room
The atmosphere was oppressive, thick and heavy like a wet towel. Fluorescent lights hummed softly overhead, highlighting beads of sweat on tense foreheads.
Hiroshi Takatsu slumped onto the bench. "Down by 20 points…" His voice was barely audible, squeezed out through clenched teeth.
The soft crunch of a plastic bottle being crushed came from the corner.
Kengo Murasame leaned against the wall, arms crossed, expression calm. "It's only 20 points."
He paused, lowering his voice with subtle menace. "As long as we prevent Ryonan from playing, victory is still ours."
A deep, resonant voice suddenly cut through the room like a hammer striking metal.
"Do I need to play?"
All eyes turned.
Tetsuya Naito, Miuradai's secret weapon, stood tall and muscular, his presence suffocating. His gaze burned like twin ghost fires, aimed directly at the court.
"I will take down every Ryonan player," he declared, exuding confidence as if his mere presence spelled doom.
Murasame's lips curved in a faint smile. "You're our secret weapon. This isn't your time yet. Your real target is Kainan."
Naito's shoulders tensed, a trace of regret crossing his expression. Yet he nodded, accepting the orders. His moment would come.
Stands
"They're up by 20…" Kogure Kiminobu murmured, eyes on the scoreboard. "As expected of Ryonan."
Mitsui Hisashi shot him a look. "That's not it. Ryonan should be frustrated."
Ayako nodded. "Except for Sendo, every Ryonan player is being harassed by Miuradai's subtle fouls. It's mentally and physically exhausting."
Miyagi Ryota's expression turned sour. "Miuradai's style is despicable."
Sakuragi Hanamichi snorted. "Petty tricks… how low can they go?"
Takenori Akagi observed quietly. "Miuradai's methods are obvious. Now let's see Ryonan's response."
Second Half Begins
Drip…
The whistle signaled the start of the second half.
Both teams returned to the court.
But Ryonan's return brought a shift in atmosphere. The stands seemed to quiet, countless eyes converging on a new figure: a red-haired, striking, unfamiliar player.
"Ryonan made a substitution."
"Who is that?"
"I remember someone spoke to the team before the game… could it be him?"
"His eyes… they're different colors. So unique…"
Whispers rippled through the stands.
Fujima Kenji and Hanagata Toru immediately locked their gaze on the newcomer.
"Finally stepping in," Fujima murmured, eyes narrowing.
Hanagata adjusted his glasses, smirking. "Let's see how capable Ryonan's first-year captain really is."
The Shohoku players tensed as Akashi walked onto the court.
"It's Akashi… he's actually playing," Kogure muttered, surprised.
Sakuragi clenched his fists, remembering past humiliations. "Damn it…"
Rukawa Kaede's lazy expression disappeared, replaced by a sharp, focused gaze.
Even Mitsui and Miyagi, who had only heard of Akashi's reputation, held their breath, eager to see him in action.
Akashi Enters the Court
Akashi walked steadily, each step precise, the faint sound of his sneakers carrying invisible weight that silenced the gym.
Miuradai's players noticed immediately, surprise and subtle tension flashing across their faces.
Kengo Murasame, standing near the free-throw line, smirked mockingly. "Oh? The previous weak link couldn't manage? Are you a little kid stepping up?"
Akashi passed by without a flicker of acknowledgment.
A low, sharp voice sliced the air. "You talk too much."
Murasame froze.
Akashi's words were calm, measured, yet like nails driving into steel: "Noisy people are insecure. True strength does not need to speak."
The gymnasium fell into temporary silence.
Akashi reached Ryonan's baseline, stopping slowly. Arms relaxed, gaze fixed like an ice blade, his heterochromatic eyes boring into Murasame.
"Know your place," he said. Quiet, precise, and unmistakable. "That is the only wise choice you have right now."