After the first quarter ended, everyone on Yokonan's team slumped onto the bench, sweat dripping down their faces, jerseys clinging to their backs. The heavy rhythm of their breathing filled the space between them, punctuated only by the creak of the bench under their weight. Out of all the players, Manabu's eyes were the most vacant. He stared into the hardwood floor as though searching for answers that weren't there.
"Twenty-five to eighteen… Toshigawa really did a number on us. They pushed us back into a corner. What will you do, Coach?" Kogure thought, gripping his hand sleeve and glancing toward the sideline.
At Toshigawa's bench, a very different atmosphere pulsed in the air. Haruko walked briskly over and handed a towel to Tetsuo who accepted the towel with a brief nod, dragging the rough fabric across his slick forehead. The white cloth darkened rapidly, soaked with salty sweat.
"Great work out there, Coach," she said with a small, admiring smile.
"Thank you," Tetsuo replied simply, breathing evenly despite the intensity of the quarter.
"Wait, so where is my towel?" wheezed Noboru, doubling over and gasping like a fish on land.
"Tetsuo is the best. Thank God he's on our side," said Hayato, chugging down water, the bottle crinkling with every squeeze.
"You can say that again," Takahiro added, wiping his brow with the edge of his jersey.
"Great work out there, everyone. That was a strong display. You really changed the flow of this game, Tetsuo. Thank you," Nanaho said, clipboard tucked at her hip as she stood in front of the team.
Noboru was practically hyperventilating beside her.
"Noboru, you look exhausted," she observed, crouching slightly to meet his eyes.
"Well, of course I am! You told me to run throughout the whole entire game!" he sputtered, dragging air into his lungs.
"No need to be so dramatic about it. Remember, we still have three quarters to go," she reminded him, tone firm but not unkind.
On the Yokonan bench, for what felt like an eternity, Coach Arimoto had his eyes closed. He slowly inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, clearly trying to suppress his anger.
"Here it comes," both Kayano and Kogure thought simultaneously.
Suddenly, the coach's voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"Words can't even begin to describe how disappointed I am in you. Six whole minutes… and not a single damn point. Six minutes of standing there, letting a team with more rookies than seniors push you into a corner. Pathetic!"
His grip on the clipboard tightened until it creaked. A few players lowered their eyes, unable to meet his glare.
"Manabu, you let one player shut you down completely. The rest of you? You just stood there and let it happen. Do you honestly think we can reach the Inter-High playing like this? If you can't even answer back to Toshigawa, you might as well not step on the court at all."
"Coach," Kayano said, rising to his feet.
"What is it, Kayano?"
"Do you mind if I play in the second quarter? I'll be taking Eiji's place."
Coach Arimoto raised an eyebrow, then grunted. "Go ahead, take over the game, and be sure not to screw up."
Kayano tucked in his jersey smoothly, a calm confidence radiating from his posture. "Relax, Coach. This game is in the bag."
Manabu sat slumped over, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped.
"How did that one player single-handedly take the lead from us? He completely shut me down. Where is he from? Am I not good enough to play against this guy?" the thoughts gnawed at him, louder than any voice in the gym.
The referee blew the whistle sharply, signaling the end of the break. The screech of sneakers echoed as players stood and shook off the fatigue.
"Alright, team, let's go win this!" Yukio said, slapping his hands together.
"Alright Noboru, take a break for now. Shino will be playing the second quarter," Nanaho instructed.
"What?! No way!" Noboru stood quickly, eyes wide.
"You're exhausted, and you need a breather. We need you for the last minutes, so rest now."
"But even if Katsuragi goes on, it won't make a difference. He'll just hold them back," Noboru snapped.
Nanaho's voice turned icy. "That's it! One more word out of you, and you'll sit on the bench for the rest of the game."
Noboru backed off, raising his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! I understand! I'm sorry!"
Shino walked toward the court, his steps hesitant, head down.
"Hey, Shino," Hayato called out, bouncing a ball lightly at his side.
Shino looked up.
"Look alive. Let's win this," Hayato said, extending his fist.
A small but sincere smile crept across Shino's face as he bumped fists. "That's right. Now's not the time to allow his words to make me feel useless. I'll do everything I can to help this team win," he thought, resolve hardening.
Sneakers screeched against the hardwood as Yokonan players stood, more motivated to win than ever.
"Substitution, Yokonan!" the referee called as Kayano fixed his jersey and stepped onto the court. His sneakers squeaked as he tapped them against the hardwood, feeling its grip.
"Finally, I can get a piece of the action," he muttered, cracking his neck.
"I knew he had to play his cards sooner or later. But I didn't expect it this early," Nanaho thought, clutching her clipboard tighter.
"He actually put Kayano in the game. This is going to be fun," Hayato said with a crooked grin.
On the first possession of the second quarter, Manabu's chest rose and fell rapidly, his brows furrowed with focus as he scanned the court. He wiped the sweat trailing down his temple, then inbounded the basketball to Kayano, who caught it with practiced ease. The ball made a low thump as Kayano dribbled it up the court, his eyes calm and unreadable.
Hayato stepped up to guard him, planting his feet firmly, but a hint of hesitation showed in the way his fingers twitched near his sides.
"I have to be careful when marking him. Unlike Eiji, he's really calm with the ball in his hands. Nevertheless, I have to stop him for the team," Hayato thought, his jaw tightening as he bent his knees slightly and widened his stance.
Kayano stood a few feet away, his body loose, almost relaxed. He bounced the ball between his legs in a steady rhythm, the sharp slap-slap of leather echoing across the court. Then, without warning, he burst forward, his sneakers screeching as he accelerated with explosive force. His body shifted so quickly it left a ripple in the air.
Hayato's eyes widened.
"Crap! He's already past me! He lunged in pursuit, breath catching in his throat.
Kayano drove to the hoop with silky precision. Yukio, waiting in the paint, tensed. His muscles coiled like springs as he anticipated the shot, eyes locked onto Kayano's form. Just as Yukio leapt to block, Kayano's wrist flicked sideways, delivering a swift bounce pass under the basket.
Ryuu caught the ball in stride. His body rose into the air effortlessly, legs extended, arms pulled back like a bow about to snap. The gym seemed to pause as his form hung above the rim. Then—
BOOM! A thunderous dunk echoed through the court, shaking the backboard and sending vibrations through the floor.
The crowd erupted, their voices spilling over the bleachers.
"Hell yeah, now we're fired up!" Ryuu shouted, jogging back on defense with a fierce grin.
"Nice play, Takeshi! Keep it up!" shouted a Yokonan student, waving his arms wildly.
Nanaho clenched the clipboard in her hands, watching from the sidelines with sharp, thoughtful eyes.
"Takeshi Kayano is a fierce one," she mused. "He can change his pace, speed, and direction at any time he pleases. Not to mention, he's very good at creating openings for his teammates—the ideal point guard for a team."
On the next possession, Takahiro clapped twice before passing the ball into the paint to Yukio, who was already jostling for position against Ryuu. The air felt thick with pressure, both players' muscles taut with tension.
Yukio faked a spin to the right. Ryuu bit the bait.
"Damn it!" Ryuu growled, scrambling to recover his footing.
Yukio spun back to the left, his body brushing Ryuu's shoulder as he leapt, extending for a soft layup that hits the backboard and dropped in with a satisfying swish.
Takahiro pumped his fist. The crowd murmured in response, not as loud as before, but hopeful.
Kayano caught the ball again and began dribbling up the court, his expression as composed as ever. Sweat glistened along his brow, but his eyes remained cool, focused.
Hayato slid in front of him once more, shoulders squared, nostrils flared, and a slight tremble in his fingers betrayed the anxiety behind his determination.
"You won't get by me as easily as last time!" he barked, voice cracking with tension.
Kayano didn't respond. His body spoke instead. He crossed the ball between his legs, then spun halfway, baiting Hayato forward. Hayato moved with him, chest nearly brushing Kayano's shoulder.
But it was a trap.
Mid-spin, Kayano slipped the ball behind his back and darted in the opposite direction. His pivot was so smooth it felt like he was gliding. Hayato stumbled.
"No… not again. How's he this fast?"
Hayato gritted his teeth, turning hard to chase, his feet slipping momentarily on sweat-slicked hardwood.
Kayano surged toward the rim, the crowd rising slightly with anticipation. Yukio stepped up this time, eyes flicking between Kayano and Ryuu. His legs were frozen in place—should he stop the ball or block the pass?
Kayano's shoulders feinted toward Ryuu, and Yukio took the bait.
"He's going to pass to him!" Yukio shouted as he lunged sideways, arms out.
But Kayano kept the ball, pulling up suddenly. His form rose smoothly, arms extending. The flick of his wrist sent the ball in a perfect arc.
Swish.
Nothing but net.
"Nice one, Kayano!" shouted Eiji from the bench, jumping up with both arms raised.
Nanaho's fingers hovered near her lips, then dug into her lower jaw as she bit her fingernail—hard. Her leg bounced anxiously beneath the clipboard she held.
Hayato can't keep up with Kayano… This is bad.
Her thoughts raced.
Should I switch his mark to Tetsuo? No. If Hayato rotates off, who covers Manabu? Yukio's already tied up with Ryuu. I can't double Kayano either—that would leave the corners wide open for Manabu's threes. Noboru's more experienced than Shino, but he's exhausted.
Her nail snapped.
Damn it. What am I supposed to do? She thought bitterly.
Hayato, cheeks flushed and breathing hard, gritted his teeth and tried to return the favor on offense. He feinted left and crossed right, attempting to shake off Kayano. For a split second, it worked.
"Then—slap! Kayano stripped the ball clean."
The sound cut like a whip.
Gasps came from the sidelines as Kayano scooped up the ball and turned the other direction, a sly grin creeping across his lips for the first time that quarter.
"Let's score some points! Show them that Yokonan isn't filled with a bunch of pushovers!" he shouted with a voice full of pride and challenge.
"Yes!" his teammates echoed, some clapping their hands, others moving on the court with infectious energy.
Even Eiji, who sat on the bench with a towel draped around his neck, leaned forward, fire burning in his eyes. The momentum was shifting, and everyone could feel it—the heavy bass of the crowd's cheers, the steady thump-thump-thump of the dribbling, and the sense that Toshigawa had something special up their sleeve.
But this game had only just begun