Halftime.
Shohoku's bench.
The metal seats rattled loudly.
Sakuragi Hanamichi slammed the armrest with full force. His knuckles turned pale, almost bleeding. His canines bit deep into his lower lip, and a low growl rumbled from his throat.
His bloodshot eyes burned like fire, locked onto the huge figure across from him on the Meihou bench.
"That bastard!" Sakuragi's roar made the whole bench tremble.
He kept shifting around on the metal bench, red jersey rubbing out sharp rasps. Each stomp felt like a war drum, as if he was trying to smash a hole in the floor.
His pride had been crushed.
His Rebounds were taken. His Blocks missed by a mile. His Slam Dunk was swatted away like a mosquito.
Those humiliating moments kept looping in his mind.
Kogure Kiminobu stepped up, trying to calm him. "Sakuragi! Take it easy. The guy's body is just stronger than yours. It's normal to be outmatched. We can handle him in other ways. No need to go head-to-head."
"Glasses-bro," Sakuragi snapped back. "Easy for you to say. I got wrecked out there. I gotta pay him back. I'm not gonna lose!"
Kogure let out a deep sigh. He looked at Sakuragi with helpless eyes.
Akagi Takenori sat on the end of the bench, gripping a towel with white-knuckled fists, wiping sweat from his brow again and again.
The salty sweat stung his eyes, but he didn't blink. His gaze was still fixed on the Meihou bench.
He wasn't like Sakuragi. Even after being crushed repeatedly by Morishige Hiroshi and the burning pain in his mouth, he didn't feel the childish urge for revenge.
He was long past the age of acting on impulse.
Morishige's dominance had gone far beyond what he'd expected.
And during the game, he could feel it—Morishige's strength was still growing.
The change was subtle, but Akagi could sense it.
That visible growth chilled him deep inside.
At that moment, Shimizu Kanon approached Aoi Kunisaku. Her round eyes studied him up and down. She spoke with suspicion: "Saku-chan, you don't look too fired up today."
"Ah," Aoi slowly looked up. "I'm fine."
"Really?" Kanon blinked and tilted her head, then spoke gently. "This is the finals, you know? You look like you don't even care."
Aoi snorted and curled his lips. "This is a final? Those guys are way too weak. Can't even get me excited. Maybe that Morishige guy… he's barely interesting."
"Him, huh?" Kanon furrowed her brows and paused. Her tone turned serious. "Morishige Hiroshi hasn't even fully tapped into his physical potential. His talent isn't any worse than Sakuragi Hanamichi or Rukawa Kaede. And he grows fast under pressure."
Hearing that, Aoi's lips curved into a bloodthirsty grin. A beast-like gleam flashed in his eyes. "Now that's what I like! This is gonna be fun!"
Kanon sighed and rubbed her forehead. "There you go again. I mean, this is still the summer tournament. You can't expect every school to be packed with stars. But come fall… you might not be disappointed."
"Hm?" Aoi's brow arched. He looked at Kanon, confused. "What do you mean?"
Kanon took a deep breath, voice speeding up with a hint of excitement. "Don't tell me you forgot about Japan's big three tournaments? Besides the IH summer tourney in June, there's the National Athletic Meet in October, and the Winter Cup from December to January! The fall tournament is based on regional teams—each prefecture sends its best to compete. You'll see real monsters there."
"I see..." Aoi muttered. A twisted smile spread across his face, eyes blazing with light.
He started getting curious about that fall tourney.
Of course he'd heard of Japan's big three:
The IH Summer Tournament. The Fall National Athletic Meet. The Winter Cup.
Since joining Nationals, Aoi had totally lost interest in this summer tournament.
The opponents were too weak!
But the Fall National Athletic Meet…
A team of top players from each prefecture?
As the thought sank in, Aoi's grin widened into something wild, something expectant. His whole being transformed into a beast ready to pounce.
Meihou's bench.
All the starters sat with their heads down like wilted eggplants after a frost. Their faces were full of defeat.
They were trailing by 16 points.
They had considered the possibility of falling behind, but now that the harsh reality was in front of them, the blow hit harder than they expected.
Maeda Ryu'u clenched his jaw, face full of guilt. "Damn it… if only I'd stayed on Aoi Kunisaku, maybe that last shot wouldn't have gone in!"
That scene kept replaying in his head.
He thought Morishige Hiroshi had already sealed the Block, and time was almost up. Nothing else should've happened.
But in the final second, Aoi Kunisaku appeared like a ghost and forced that Shot in off the rebound.
Morishima Ryoushi wiped sweat hard from his forehead. His voice carried a helpless tone. "It's not all on you. Aoi Kunisaku is just too damn strong. No one can read his next move."
Daimon Saburou nodded heavily. His voice was still shaking. "Yeah, and who would've thought that guy would suddenly pull off something like that at the last second?"
Then Nakayama Tenri suddenly turned toward Morishige Hiroshi, who hadn't said a word. His voice carried concern. "Hiroshi, are you okay? Do you need a break?"
Morishige slowly shook his head. His face showed a childlike pout. His tone was low. "I'm fine… I just really don't like that number 9 guy."
Everyone on the Meihou bench fell silent.
They didn't like him either. Aoi Kunisaku was giving them all headaches. But none of them had a way to stop him.
Nomoto Reizou scanned the slumped team on the bench. He knocked the whiteboard with his knuckles. Once all eyes turned to him, he cleared his throat and spoke with steady force.
"The current situation is still manageable. But from here on out, we need to shut down Shohoku's scoring. That's the key to turning this game around."
His gaze landed on Morishige. He paused, then added with a mix of trust and expectation, "Hiroshi, your Defense needs to tighten up."
Before Morishige could respond, Nakayama Tenri cut in. "Coach, what about Aoi Kunisaku? None of us can guard him."
His voice carried a trace of panic. After all, they had all seen just how strong Aoi was.
But Nomoto Reizou remained calm. A confident smirk tugged at his lips. Behind his glasses, his eyes were deep as still water.
"You're right. No one can stop him one-on-one. That's just a fantasy."
Nakayama Tenri caught the hint and quickly asked, "You mean a double-team? But does that even work? Sannoh already tried it and still lost to Aoi Kunisaku."
Nomoto kept smiling. "Sannoh couldn't do it. But that doesn't mean Meihou can't. You know what we have that they didn't?"
Everyone stared blankly.
"Morishige Hiroshi."
The whole bench was confused.
Nomoto picked up his marker and started sketching quickly on the whiteboard. As he drew, he explained, "Hiroshi has the best Defense coverage and intensity in this whole tournament. His explosive strength makes up for his lack of speed. If he can cover the entire Paint with some help-side Defense, then even if Aoi Kunisaku had six arms, he'd still have to think twice."
He jabbed the marker at the Three-Point Line.
"Your job is to push him out to the perimeter."
Maeda Ryu'u still looked worried and spoke up. "Coach… and if that still doesn't work?"
The bench fell silent. The only sound was the hum of the crowd.
Nomoto had already considered this.
He scanned each young face, then said slowly, "Then we add another defender. Two-man isn't enough, we go three. Three's not enough? Go four. I've watched him. He favors attacking the Paint. That probably means his outside shot isn't reliable. Your mission is to force him beyond the Three-Point Line."
Nakayama Tenri opened his mouth to ask, 'What if even that doesn't work?'
But before he could, Nomoto's voice cut in again.
"If even that doesn't stop him… then we admit defeat."
The second he finished, everyone on the Meihou bench twitched at the corners of their mouths.
A strange silence filled the bench. Even breathing felt heavy.
So that so-called confident strategy… was just a gamble.
Betting that Aoi Kunisaku's three-point shot isn't strong?
Betting that Morishige Hiroshi can stop Aoi Kunisaku with help-side Defense?
And the coach still had the nerve to act so confident?
Is that really okay?
Everyone knew Aoi Kunisaku hadn't even shown his full strength yet.
Even though the coach's analysis didn't sound wrong...
Just thinking about how Aoi Kunisaku dominated Sannoh with that ridiculous strength made them doubt everything.
Nomoto Reizou had no other options.
Shohoku's overall strength was already more than Meihou could handle.
If they wanted any chance at winning this Game, they had to contain Aoi Kunisaku.
This was a gamble. A bet that Aoi's three-point shooting wasn't reliable.
No one knew better than Nomoto—if he lost this bet, then Meihou's only outcome was elimination.
…
During halftime, the spectators in the stands were just as restless.
Everyone was talking about the Game.
Some were already making predictions for the final result.
Most believed Shohoku would win.
Of course, a small group still believed Meihou could turn things around and take the championship.
Those who thought Meihou would win were diehard Meihou fans.
Can't blame them—Shohoku was just too famous now.
And Aoi Kunisaku had everyone's attention.
There was no one on Meihou's side who could stop Aoi, so most people figured it was too hard for them to beat Shohoku.
Right then, in one corner of the stands…
Sendoh Akira and Sawakita Eiji were seated side by side.
Sendoh leaned back in his seat, long fingers tapping his knee idly. His eyes were locked on the scoreboard.
"16 points, huh? I thought the lead would be even bigger," he said.
Sawakita Eiji propped his chin on one hand. He glanced over with a teasing smile. "What, you scared of that guy now?"
Sendoh laughed and shook his head. "No way. I'm not his match, sure—but I'm not afraid of him either."
Even as he said that, the image of his one-on-one with Aoi Kunisaku on the street court came flooding back.
The way he got crushed in that match...
He shook his head, brushing off the memory. Then looked toward Meihou's bench.
"That number 15 from Meihou—what's his deal? You know him?"
Sawakita followed his gaze, then shook his head slightly. "No idea. I only know he's a first-year. Never heard of him before. Probably someone their coach scouted somewhere."
A spark of curiosity flickered in Sendoh's eyes.
'I wonder how well he can hold up against Aoi Kunisaku,' he thought.
…
Meanwhile.
The players from Kainan were also discussing the Game.
"Who do you think's gonna win?" Kiyota Nobunaga suddenly broke the silence. His question cut through the noise of the crowd.
The rest of Kainan turned their heads and gave him identical looks—like he was an idiot.
Muto Tadashi clicked his tongue and said with a weird expression, "Do you really need to ask? Meihou is no match for Shohoku."
Kiyota thought the same, but still muttered sourly, "Doesn't Meihou have even a tiny chance of turning it around?"
He was torn. Part of him wanted a team from Kanagawa to win. But he didn't want Shohoku to be that team.
They were all from Kanagawa. They'd definitely meet again in the future.
If Shohoku got the championship, but Kainan never did—how would he show his face?
Shinichi Maki sighed and said, "I don't think so. The difference in skill is too big. If not for that number 15, Meihou would've collapsed before halftime."
Then he turned to Maki Shinichi.
"What do you think, Maki?"
Maki narrowed his eyes. First, he looked at Morishige Hiroshi on Meihou's bench. Then slowly shifted his gaze to Shohoku's side—where Aoi Kunisaku sat slouched, half-asleep.
Aoi's eyes were barely open. His whole vibe was sleepy and lazy, like he might doze off at any second.
Maki twitched at the sight. His eyelid was visibly twitching.
Then he said, "Exactly. Shohoku hasn't even brought out their full strength yet. That guy doesn't even look like he cares."
Everyone from Kainan followed his gaze to Aoi Kunisaku.
They all twitched at once.
Kiyota spat, annoyed. "That guy..."
Shinichi Maki chuckled and said teasingly, "Totally his personality."
Muto Tadashi had a weird look on his face and muttered, "Seriously though… what kind of person even is he?"
Time ticked away second by second in the noise.
Halftime quickly came to an end.
BEEP—
A sharp whistle tore through the air.
Shohoku vs. Meihou. The second half had officially begun.
Both teams' players stepped back onto the court.
At tip-off, Akagi Takenori, unsurprisingly, lost again.
His tense muscles couldn't hold up against Morishige Hiroshi's overwhelming explosiveness.
Morishige Hiroshi won the ball.
For the first play of the second half, Meihou played it safe. They didn't rush their Offense.
Nakayama Tenri brought the ball past half-court. The five players moved like tightly meshed gears, the ball zipping between them at high speed.
Time ticked away.
The red digits on the timer kept jumping. Meihou's shot clock was running out.
Then the ball landed in Daimon Saburou's hands.
As a Shooting Guard, he didn't hesitate. He pushed off with his toes, stopped suddenly behind the Three-Point Line, jumped high, and flicked his wrist. The ball cut through the air with a gust of wind, drawing a bright orange arc.
The ball traced a perfect arc in the air and dropped cleanly into the hoop.
Swish—
Three-pointer made.
Shohoku 54 to Meihou 41.
Right out the gate, Meihou grabbed 3 points.
Coach Nomoto Reizou couldn't help but swing his arm in excitement.
It wasn't the play he drew up—but the ball went in, and that's what mattered.
Then came the lightning-fast counterattack.
Rukawa Kaede stormed through like a gust of wind, charging straight into Meihou's Paint in a flash.
His eyes were sharp as knives. Without hesitation, he jumped high against Morishima Ryoushi's tough Defense, looking like he was about to Slam Dunk.
Morishima's body tensed. His arms shot up like spears. He gave it everything to stop Rukawa in mid-air.
But no one expected what came next—Rukawa twisted mid-air, switching from a Dunk to a Layup, snaking around Morishima like a slick serpent.
Morishima couldn't stop his momentum. His palm smacked hard against Rukawa's arm.
At the same moment, Rukawa forced the ball up with perfect body control.
Slap—
The sound echoed. The ref's whistle blared sharp and clear.
Swish—
The ball swished through the net.
BEEP—
The referee pointed directly at Morishima Ryoushi.
"Meihou number 7, shooting foul. Basket counts. One free throw."
Rukawa stood cool and calm at the Free-Throw Line. He flicked his wrist. The ball flew from his hands.
Swish—
A clean net sound.
Rukawa sank the shot.
Meihou had opened with a three. Shohoku came back with a 2+1.
That explosive start lit up the whole arena.
The crowd broke into cheers.
The names "Shohoku" and "Meihou" started echoing through the gym.
Then came Meihou's fierce retaliation.
Daimon Saburou got another chance to shoot.
He stared sharp at Shohoku's hoop, jumped up, flicked his wrist—ball flying like an arrow.
But this time it slammed against the rim.
Down low, chaos erupted under the basket.
Morishige Hiroshi fought like a beast under the double-team from Sakuragi Hanamichi and Akagi Takenori. Even surrounded, he ripped down the Rebound.
Then he sprang back up and threw down a violent Dunk. The sheer force knocked Akagi and Sakuragi back several steps.
But Sakuragi's defensive movement was too much.
The whistle blew again.
The ref pointed straight at Sakuragi Hanamichi.
"Shohoku number 10, defensive foul. Basket counts. One free throw."
"Damn it!" Sakuragi clenched his teeth, shouting in his head. He was ready to lose it.
Akagi clapped him on the shoulder and said in a deep voice, "Don't rush. Stay calm."
"Dammit, Gorilla…" Sakuragi started to snap back. But when he saw Akagi's unshakable eyes, the words died in his throat.
Morishige Hiroshi stepped to the Free-Throw Line. He powered the ball forward.
CLANG—
He put in too much force. The ball smashed off the backboard and bounced away.
Free throw failed.
The tension on court was getting worse. The Game shifted into a loop of non-stop clashes, the air growing heavier by the minute.
Both sides traded blows, back and forth, scoring one after another.
Morishige Hiroshi turned into a war god in the paint, throwing Dunks down one after the other.
On Shohoku's side, scoring came from all directions. With sharp passes and coordination, almost everyone became a scoring threat.
As more Meihou players locked onto Aoi Kunisaku, Rukawa Kaede found openings. He slipped through Morishige's Defense again and again, sending the ball through the hoop.
The score kept ticking up.
59 to 45.
66 to 52.
70 to 56.
…
SLAM—
Just when everyone thought the Game would keep going like this…
A thunderous Block shattered the balance.