The third quarter began with Yokonan in possession of the ball. The echo of the buzzer faded as Kayano dribbled the basketball up the court, his footsteps light, his posture loose and confident. His palm guided the ball with controlled rhythm, each bounce a crisp slap against the glossy hardwood. Sweat shimmered on his forehead, but his expression was calm—too calm.
Hayato stepped up to guard him, adjusting his stance, knees bent and arms wide. He could feel his legs ache from the first half, his breath coming in short bursts through slightly parted lips. His jersey clung to his back, damp with sweat.
"I can't afford to let him break through our defense, not when Kogure is out here playing," he said to himself, eyes locked on Kayano's.
Following Yukio's instructions, Tetsuo stuck to Manabu like glue. He mirrored his every movement, pivoting sharply, his shoes squeaking loudly against the court. The tension in his body was like a coiled spring. No matter how much Manabu twisted, feinted, or shifted, Tetsuo refused to give him space.
"Damn it, he won't budge," Manabu thought to himself, clenching his jaw.
"You're not scoring any more points on my watch, so stay put," Tetsuo said, his voice low, body hunched slightly, arms tense and ready.
"How dare you, you overconfident bastard," Manabu muttered, beads of sweat dripping down his chin.
On the wing, Ryuu took two hard steps and set a solid screen on Yukio, his shoulder driving into Yukio's side. Yukio staggered a step.
"Crap, they didn't warn me," Yukio thought, adjusting his footing, scrambling to recover.
Kogure exploded off the court, sprinting toward the hoop. His shoes slapped the floor with force, knees driving high, body leaning forward like a missile. He locked eyes with Kayano. Kayano gave a subtle nod and then faked a pass to the corner, causing the defenders to hesitate, shifting their weight.
Then, without pause, Kayano lobbed the ball high toward the rim.
Kogure leapt, his muscles coiling, calves flexing as he rocketed off the ground. His hands stretched out, fingers splayed wide as he caught the ball mid-air, twisting slightly. His right arm rotated back—then he swung it in a smooth arc, slamming the ball into the hoop with a thunderous windmill dunk.
The entire gym seemed to shake.
"No way... did he just...?" Noboru's voice trailed off in shock, his jaw hanging open as the ball bounced once, twice, then rolled to the sideline.
The gym erupted.
"Kogure is amazing! What a dunk!" shouted a soccer player from the crowd, nearly standing on his seat.
"Kogure-senpai, you're so cool!" a first-year girl squealed, hugging her friend.
Jogging back on defense, Kogure's chest rose and fell with steady control. His smirk was effortless.
"Good work, Yukio. You managed to get me out here, but you'll have to do better than that if you want to win."
On the next possession, Hayato gripped the ball tightly and passed to Yukio inside the key. Yukio jab-stepped, faking a shot. His defender bit on the feint and leaned in. Yukio instantly dished the ball to Takahiro on the wing, who had slipped into open space.
Takahiro caught the ball, adjusted his stance, and rose into a clean mid-range jumper. The ball rotated smoothly off his fingertips.
However, in a blur of motion, Kogure exploded across the court. His sneakers screeched against the floor as he launched himself upward, arm fully extended. With a violent slap, he swatted the ball away.
"Crap, how did he block me? I was wide open!" Takahiro thought, eyes wide in disbelief.
Kayano scooped up the loose ball and dashed forward, his feet hammering the floor. The court blurred beneath him. He tossed the ball to Kogure, who caught it in stride, took a powerful dribble, then spun in the air—his body completing a full 360-degree turn—before hammering home another dunk.
The crowd's roar was deafening.
"Hurry up! Kogure's playing in the match. Apparently, Toshigawa was putting up a fight," a girl from the swim team called, grabbing her phone.
"Wow, they must be really good," another swimmer responded.
"Are you coming, Aoi? Your boyfriend is playing. I'm sure seeing you will make him play even better."
"I'm coming," Aoi said, drying her arms with a towel before walking off in her swimsuit and jacket.
Back on the court, Kayano passed the ball again to Kogure. Yukio stepped up, positioning himself with low knees and arms wide.
Kogure didn't even acknowledge him. He bounced the ball between his legs twice, then stepped back sharply. Yukio tried to close the space, but Kogure already released the ball with perfect form. The three-pointer dropped cleanly—nothing but net.
"Yes! Let's go! Nice shot, Kogure-senpai!" Eiji shouted.
Nanaho clenched her fists. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her breathing had quickened. She looked up at the scoreboard.
"How did the game shift away from us this quickly?" she thought.
"We were leading by nine points earlier, and now we're down by eleven—52 to 63. That guy is unreal. He just came on and already scored twenty points."
On the Toshigawa bench, the mood was heavy. Shino slouched forward, his body sagging. Water bottles lay discarded near his feet.
This is bad, that player is really good he muttered with a trembling voice.
"Wow, they're losing badly," Airi remarked, snapping photos quietly.
"Yeah, but that guy is just too good. It's not really a reflection of their inadequacy," Yuri added, scanning the players.
Kanae adjusted her notebook, flipping to a clean page.
"Keep taking those pictures, Airi. Yuri keep writing. I have a feeling something amazing is going to happen."
On the court, Noboru stumbled slightly as he backed into position, barely keeping his balance. He steadied himself with one hand on his thigh.
"Damn it, this guy is strong," he muttered under his breath.
Yukio wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist, his vision slightly blurred with sweat.
"I hate to admit it, but I can't handle him. And with Kayano assisting him, he's even more dangerous."
Nanaho bit her fingernails anxiously, her foot tapping against the bench leg.
"What can I do? We're seriously outclassed in both offense and defense. The only reason the score is still close is because of Tetsuo guarding Manabu. But there's no way we can win this."
Even Hayato, who always radiated confidence, lowered his head. His arms hung at his sides, and he stared at the floor.
"It's over. There's no way we can win. We've lost," he thought.
But then—
"Nakajima! Pass me the ball!" Tetsuo's voice rang out clearly.
Hayato turned, startled. Tetsuo was already moving into position, eyes burning with determination.
"Tetsuo... he doesn't want to give up," he realized.
He passed the ball without hesitation.
Tetsuo caught it and immediately pushed forward. His sneakers bit into the court as he drove. He dribbled with purpose, the ball slapping fast and low against the floor.
Manabu and another Yokonan defender rushed in front of him. Tetsuo didn't stop—he shifted his weight and crossed behind his back. His body twisted sharply, and he slipped between them.
"So fast! He wasn't this quick before!" Manabu thought, stunned.
Kayano stepped in next, arms raised, anticipating contact.
Tetsuo spun—his shoes scraping loudly—and breezed past, brushing Kayano's hip as he passed.
And then—Kogure.
"Where do you think you're going, Number Eleven?" Kogure said, stepping in front of him. The two locked eyes.
Tetsuo dribbled between his legs, left then right. Kogure shadowed each move flawlessly.
Tetsuo stepped back—Kogure followed instantly, rising up to block.
But the ball had already left Tetsuo's fingertips.
His form was perfect, elbow in, wrist flicking at the apex of his jump.
Kogure's eyes widened.
"No way… I know this hand placement…"
The ball soared high and dropped through the net.
Swish.
Silence.
Then—
"Amazing! He made another one!" a student shouted.
"That Number Eleven… he's a true sharpshooter," Kayano admitted to himself.
"He might even be better than Manabu. No… he definitely is."
Haruko's heart skipped a beat.
"He's still fighting… even though there seems to be no way for them to win."
Yukio's hands trembled at his sides.
"Kawaguchi…"
How could he be giving up when Tetsuo—his junior—was still pushing forward?
Hayato slapped his own cheeks with both hands, then yanked his headband tighter.
"This game isn't over until time runs out. That's what you said, right, Captain?" Tetsuo looked back at Yukio, his gaze unwavering.
"So until this game is over, let's push ourselves to the limit and win."
Yukio stared at him, breathless.
"This is the first time he's ever expressed himself like this. He really wants to win."
"Alright, everyone!" Yukio shouted, turning to his teammates who were exhausted.
"Let's fight hard! We're still in this game!"
As the team heard those words, renewed energy returned to their eyes.
Kogure walked up slowly to Tetsuo.
"Hey, you there. Number Eleven. Does the name Hisashi Kawaguchi mean anything to you?"
Tetsuo's breath hitched.
"Hisashi… Kawaguchi…?"
Kogure smirked.
"I see. I was right. You're Tetsuo Kawaguchi… the son of former international basketball player Hisashi Kawaguchi."
Tetsuo's fingers twitched slightly at his sides. His breathing deepened, steadying, as the weight of his identity began to surface again.