Chapter 10: The First Half of the Match Against Ryonan
"Beep—!"
The whistle pierced the arena.
The match had begun.
Akagi Takenori exploded upward at the center circle. With the timing born from years in the paint, he slapped the ball cleanly toward Shohoku's side.
Shohoku won the opening tip.
But their advantage lasted less than ten seconds.
Yasuda Yasuharu carefully brought the ball past half court, shoulders tight with nerves. Before he could even set up the offense, a blur shot in from the side.
Uekusa Satoshi.
Like a shadow slipping across the floor, his hand snapped out—
Thwack!
The ball flew free.
Gasps rippled through the stands as Uekusa collected it and immediately pushed forward.
"Get back! Defense!" Akagi roared.
Shohoku scrambled, their formation breaking before it even formed.
On Ryonan's bench, Coach Taoka Shigeichi folded his arms with a satisfied smirk.
"Just as I thought. Shohoku's backcourt is fragile without Miyagi. Yasuda is steady, but slow under pressure. Rukawa is only a first-year. And Akagi alone can't carry them."
The ball moved swiftly around the perimeter before reaching the heart of Ryonan's offense.
Sendoh Akira.
Rukawa Kaede closed in instantly, low stance, eyes cold and sharp. No wasted motion. No hesitation.
Yet Sendoh only smiled — relaxed, playful, like a surfer watching a wave roll in.
Without even looking, he flicked his wrist.
The pass split the defense.
A Ryonan forward slipped behind Shohoku's line and laid it in.
Swish.
2–0, Ryonan.
Cheers erupted from the green-clad crowd.
Shohoku attacked next. After struggling through tight coverage, the ball was lobbed into the paint.
Akagi caught it with his back to the basket.
Behind him stood a wall.
Uozumi Jun.
Akagi powered up for a turn—
But Uozumi's arm descended like a guillotine.
Smack!!
The shot was annihilated.
The rebound ricocheted into Rukawa's hands. Without thinking, he rose for a jumper.
Uozumi landed — and immediately leaped again.
Smack!!
Another rejection.
Two blocks in a heartbeat.
The arena thundered.
Yasuda retrieved the loose ball, panic creeping in. He swung it back to Akagi.
Akagi gritted his teeth, forced a hook—
Uozumi soared a third time.
SMACK!!!
Triple block.
Ryonan's side exploded.
"Uozumi! Uozumi! Uozumi!"
Uozumi beat his chest and bellowed toward Akagi.
"I'm scoring a hundred today!!"
Shohoku's rhythm shattered.
Yasuda grabbed the ball again — but Ryonan instantly trapped him. Desperate, he threw a pass toward Rukawa.
A flash intercepted it.
Sendoh.
"Fast break!" Taoka barked.
Ryonan surged forward with numbers.
Rukawa sprinted back, sliding into Sendoh's path.
Silence fell for a moment — ace versus ace.
Sendoh raised the ball, hinting at a shot.
Rukawa shifted to contest—
In that fraction of a second, Sendoh's wrist rolled.
A no-look pass.
Swish.
Another layup.
4–0.
Taoka laughed across the court.
"Coach Anzai! Looks like we'll win by thirty today!"
The game slipped fully into Ryonan's tempo.
Sendoh dictated every possession — threading passes before double-teams formed, gliding through defenders when lanes appeared. His rhythm was effortless, instinctive — exactly as in the manga.
Meanwhile, Akagi fought for position, but Uozumi's size and timing smothered him at every turn.
Six minutes in:
17–0.
Shohoku still scoreless.
The crowd chanted Sendoh's name like a drumbeat.
Another Shohoku shot clanged off the rim.
Uozumi dominated the rebound and fed Sendoh instantly.
Fast break.
Rukawa chased again — learning from before, cutting passing angles.
Sendoh reached the free-throw line, feinted the pass—
Rukawa shifted.
That was enough.
Sendoh gathered and launched.
BANG!!
A one-handed dunk rattled the rim.
Sendoh hung briefly, calm as ever, before dropping lightly to the floor.
The arena detonated with cheers.
On Shohoku's bench — silence.
Except for one.
Sakuragi Hanamichi leaned back, hands behind his head, legs crossed like he was watching a practice game.
Coach Anzai glanced over his glasses.
"Hehehe… Sakuragi-kun. You don't seem worried at all?"
Sakuragi smirked.
"Coach, why worry? I haven't even entered yet."
Anzai chuckled — the familiar soft laugh — a glint of quiet amusement behind his eyes.
"This child is interesting…"
The game continued. The score gap, the roaring crowd — all pressed heavily on Shohoku.
Then Kogure adjusted his glasses.
"Stay calm! One play at a time! Defense first!"
His steady voice anchored the team.
Rukawa's eyes ignited.
He answered Sendoh basket for basket — pull-up jumpers, fearless drives — pure stubborn pride.
Akagi followed, muscling back into the paint, refusing to yield ground any longer.
Momentum shifted. Yasuda steadied his passes. Kogure and Shiozaki hit timely shots.
In the stands:
"Shohoku! Go! Shohoku!"
Haruko waved wildly. Fujii and Matsui screamed beside her.
Rukawa's fan club shrieked without pause.
And the Sakuragi Army hollered:
"Hanamichi! Get in already!"
The first half ended.
Score: Ryonan 50 — Shohoku 42.
Ryonan still led — but their massive early lead had shrunk to eight.
Shohoku walked to their bench drenched in sweat — but no longer broken.
On Ryonan's side, Taoka shouted harsh corrections.
On Shohoku's side, fighting spirit burned quietly — waiting for the next storm.