Ryokufu High School · Gymnasium.
On the court, both teams had already changed into their uniforms and were waiting for the match to begin.
The starting players for both sides had been confirmed.
Shohoku High School Starting Lineup:
Center: Akagi Takenori, Number 4, 3rd Year (Captain)
Shooting Guard: Mitsui Hisashi, Number 14, 3rd Year
Point Guard: Miyagi Ryota, Number 7, 2nd Year
Small Forward: Rukawa Kaede, Number 11, 1st Year
Power Forward: Sakuragi Hanamichi, Number 10, 1st Year
Since it was only a practice match, Aoi Kunisaku didn't take the court from the start.
He remained relaxed, barely interested in this match to begin with.
Right now, he was leaning back in his seat, lazily tapping his fingers on the chair.
Even if Ryokufu's players were top talents from across the country, to him, that was nothing special.
Ryokufu High School Starting Lineup:
Small Forward: Michael Okita, Number 13, 2nd Year (Captain)
Center: Nadaka Hikaru, Number 4, 2nd Year (Vice-Captain)
Shooting Guard: Katsumi Ichirou, Number 5, 1st Year
Power Forward: Totsuka Tetsuya, Number 9, 2nd Year
Power Forward: Ebina Kaoru, Number 6, 2nd Year
Seeing Ryokufu's starting five, the Shohoku players all looked surprised.
They already knew the full player roster from the earlier locker room briefing.
Ryokufu hadn't sent out their best lineup.
Were they hiding their strength?
Or just looking down on them?
Ayako clenched the edge of her clipboard, brows pinched, lips curling into displeasure. "Still hiding their strength? Even if they're looking down on us, there's a limit. We're the national champions, at least."
Akagi Haruko was too shy to say anything as blunt as Ayako. She quietly stayed silent, a bit of dissatisfaction bubbling inside. 'Seriously, how can they do this? But everyone will be fine—Shohoku is really strong now.'
Shimizu Kanon didn't seem surprised that Ryokufu wasn't using their top lineup. She looked like she had expected it all along, still smiling sweetly with that "everything under control" look.
At that moment, the referee walked steadily toward center court and loudly announced, "The match is about to begin. Red, Shohoku. White, Ryokufu."
Shohoku and Ryokufu players walked onto the court and took their positions.
"Huh? Your Number 9 isn't playing?" Michael Okita's gaze scanned the Shohoku players. He raised a brow as he asked.
Akagi Takenori answered flatly, voice calm but commanding. "We don't need him to deal with you."
Nadaka Hikaru adjusted his collar, a smirk with a hint of provocation playing on his lips. "Akagi, let's see what you've got."
Akagi stared at the player across from him, similar in height. He thought, 'So this is someone who's been through the same thing as me.'
Only someone who's been a one-man team knows how helpless that feels.
Most people would've quit basketball.
The guy in front of him had made it this far. He definitely wasn't just some average player.
Akagi wasn't arrogant, but he had plenty of confidence in his own skills.
If this guy was standing in front of him now, that meant he was strong too.
Their eyes met midair. In that moment, it was like electricity cracked between them. Sparks flew. Even though the game hadn't started yet, the tension sizzled like static in the air.
"Yo, Mitsui-senpai. Long time no see," Katsumi Ichirou smiled warmly at Mitsui Hisashi, like a friend catching up after years apart.
Mitsui replied, "Katsumi… I didn't expect to see you at Ryokufu."
Katsumi raised an eyebrow with a confident smirk. "I was surprised too. I mean, Mitsui-senpai—you haven't played in two years. Why show up again now?"
The moment he said that, Mitsui's expression darkened.
Was that a dig?
Bringing up how he had quit basketball back then.
But Mitsui quickly regained his composure. His voice was calm, like still water, but the edge at the end cut like ice. "Strength isn't measured by time alone. I'll show you what a real three-point shooter looks like."
Katsumi kept his polite smile, full of confidence. "Then please teach me well, Mitsui-senpai."
"Hmph…"
Mitsui gave a cold snort and said no more.
Above the court, the gym's spotlights lit up the space like daylight.
From the stands came deafening cheers and chants, wave after wave. But if you listened closely, every shout was for Ryokufu.
A clear warning shot at Shohoku.
Shohoku's players all frowned. Pretending not to care would've been a lie. No matter how mentally tough they were, this kind of atmosphere had an effect.
The referee saw both teams were ready and blew the opening whistle.
Pweeeeeet…
A sharp, piercing whistle echoed across the court.
At the same time, the referee tossed the basketball high into the air between the two teams.
The practice match between Shohoku High School and Ryokufu High School officially began.
Tap…
Tap…
Akagi Takenori and Nadaka Hikaru's sneakers scraped the court at nearly the same moment. Their bodies launched upward like arrows loosed from a bowstring.
As their arms crossed midair, Akagi leaned slightly forward using his broader shoulders. His fingertips brushed against the texture of the basketball, and with a flick of his wrist—
Pa…
A sharp, clear snap.
Relying on his excellent timing and vertical leap, Akagi got to the ball first, tipping it toward Miyagi Ryota.
Tch…
Nadaka Hikaru clicked his tongue.
He didn't think he was any worse than Akagi.
In his mind, either one of them could've won the jump ball—it was just a matter of luck.
The moment Miyagi caught the ball, a flash of sharp light glinted in his eyes.
His feet moved in rapid succession, sneakers pounding out a sharp rhythm on the floor. His body burst forward as he drove hard toward Ryokufu's half of the court.
The Ryokufu players took off in hot pursuit, sticking close behind Miyagi Ryota.
Just then, Rukawa Kaede sprinted ahead to the three-point line. His eyes met Miyagi's.
Miyagi understood instantly. With a flick of his wrist, the basketball shot through the air like a meteor, dragging a glowing orange tail beneath the lights. It landed perfectly in Rukawa's hands.
Rukawa caught the pass and was already moving. His left knee bent in a clean arc. His sneakers screeched against the floor.
He stepped into Ryokufu's paint and drove hard to the basket.
Michael Okita stepped in front, trying to stop him.
But Rukawa suddenly pulled off a between-the-legs dribble, then switched direction with a quick move in front of his body.
The ball flashed to his left hand. The cross dribble kicked up a small gust that tossed his bangs. Then came a sudden stop and direction change. The entire combo flowed like water, smooth and effortless.
Michael Okita's footwork fell half a beat behind. By the time he looked up, Rukawa was already airborne.
Rukawa took full advantage of that fleeting chance, swinging his arm and slamming the ball toward the rim. It crashed cleanly into the basket.
CLANG…
The ball went in.
Shohoku scored first.
Shohoku 2 – Ryokufu 0
Shohoku bench.
The 1st- and 2nd-year substitutes waved and cheered.
"Nice one!"
"That dunk was sick, Rukawa!"
"Show 'em what Shohoku's made of!"
…
Ayako smiled genuinely, lips curling in satisfaction. Her eyes sparkled as she praised the players coming back on defense. "Not bad! Great teamwork out there."
Watching Shohoku's players running back, Michael Okita turned the ball in one hand and smiled faintly. His voice was calm. "Not bad at all, Shohoku."
Switching to defense.
Ryokufu inbounded from the baseline. The ball arced smoothly into Ebina Kaoru's hands.
His dribbling pace wasn't fast, but steady.
Miyagi Ryota lowered his stance and pressed in close like the wind, trying to disrupt the dribble.
But Ebina reacted fast. With a fake, a slight shoulder feint, and a quick flick of the fingers, he changed direction.
Miyagi stumbled. His balance slipped. By the time he looked up again, Ebina had already crossed midcourt.
As he dribbled, his sharp eyes swept the court, scanning for gaps in Shohoku's defense.
Beyond the three-point line, Ebina suddenly stopped. His knees bent, arms raised high in a shooting motion.
Miyagi's heart jumped. He pushed off hard, leapt up with arms wide, trying to block the shot.
But just before they collided, Ebina twisted his wrist. The ball veered off in a different direction.
Using that momentum, he slipped past Miyagi and broke free.
A fake?
Miyagi stumbled on the landing, frustration flashing in his eyes.
Ebina now drove into Shohoku's paint.
Akagi Takenori stood in the key like an immovable mountain, arms crossed over his chest. His sharp gaze locked onto the incoming Ebina.
He sized up the opponent in front of him, who wasn't even 180 cm tall. Akagi was full of confidence. He had already timed the block in his head.
But just as Ebina was about to jump, he flicked his wrist.
The ball traced an arc across the paint, sailing into empty space.
Then—out of nowhere—a white blur burst forth.
Michael Okita caught the pass cleanly. Without giving Akagi a chance to react, he powered the ball straight into the hoop.
Alley-oop dunk.
Ryokufu tied the score.
Shohoku 2 – Ryokufu 2
It all happened in an instant.
The Ryokufu fans erupted with joy in the stands, shouting and cheering wildly.
Akagi Takenori's eyes narrowed as he watched Michael Okita running back on defense.
Alley-oops didn't bother him—he didn't care much about those.
But what rattled him was how he had zero time to react just now.
The opponent had jumped mid-air, caught the ball, and dunked in one seamless motion.
He had already decided to dunk before the ball was even in his hands.
That kind of confidence…
No one expected the game to start this intense.
Next, both teams went back and forth, clashing in wave after wave of offense.
Mitsui Hisashi stood outside Ryokufu's three-point line, eyes scanning for space.
Finally, he feinted and shook off Katsumi Ichirou, finding a moment of separation.
Miyagi Ryota saw his chance and passed the ball right into Mitsui's hands.
Mitsui didn't hesitate. He planted his feet, rose up, brought his elbow level with his shoulder, and snapped his wrist.
Whoosh…
The ball flew like an arrow, drawing a perfect arc under the lights before falling straight into Ryokufu's hoop.
Swish…
Nothing but net.
Ryokufu retaliated immediately. Their counterattack tore through Shohoku's defense like lightning, reaching their half in the blink of an eye.
Nadaka Hikaru caught a pass beneath the basket.
He had his back to Akagi Takenori and used his strong body to grind away at the space behind him.
Akagi braced himself, pushing back hard to stop the advance.
They locked into a silent contest of strength.
But it didn't last long.
Nadaka suddenly dropped his shoulder and stepped back. His waist coiled like a spring and in the moment Akagi leaned forward, he spun free.
Akagi slipped, stumbling half a step forward. His fingers only brushed a damp breeze behind Nadaka's jersey.
Taking advantage, Nadaka jumped and flicked the ball in a hook shot toward Shohoku's hoop.
The ball rose slowly, kissed the top edge of the backboard, then dropped cleanly into the net.
Swish…
Ryokufu scored.
After several exchanges, the score tied at 8 to 8.
Both sides were playing hard, enjoying the clash.
But that balance didn't last.
Suddenly, Ryokufu's energy exploded. Their tempo sped up like they'd been injected with a shot of adrenaline.
In another offensive run, Rukawa Kaede tried to pull the same move again. He changed directions to shake Michael Okita and slip past him.
But Okita was ready. He had anticipated the move, stepped in early, and spread his long arms like a steel gate. He completely shut off Rukawa's lane.
Rukawa saw he couldn't break through. He lowered his center of gravity and stepped back to create space.
At the same time, he flipped his wrist. The ball traced a clean arc behind his back and flew toward the other side.
Whoosh…
It left an orange-yellow trail as it zipped into Mitsui Hisashi's hands beyond the arc.
Mitsui was just about to shoot, but Ryokufu's defense rotated fast.
Katsumi Ichirou and Totsuka Tetsuya rushed in and closed him in from both sides.
Mitsui's heartbeat skipped. He forced himself up, brushing his fingertips against the back of the ball as he released.
The ball hit the rim hard and bounced high.
Nadaka Hikaru slammed into Akagi's elbow with his shoulder, scraped his sneakers across the floor, and used the low crouch momentum to spring up. He palmed the ball cleanly mid-air.
With the rebound, Ryokufu launched a fast break.
Katsumi Ichirou led the charge, sprinting past half-court toward Shohoku's basket.
Mitsui chased him down with all he had. But Katsumi's speed wasn't bad either. For a while, Mitsui just couldn't close the distance.
Katsumi caught the pass. He didn't stop to shoot from beyond the arc. Instead, he charged straight into Shohoku's paint.
Sakuragi Hanamichi had just returned under the basket. He threw his arms wide to block the way.
Katsumi looked at him and suddenly shifted his movement. He bent his knees like he was about to jump for a shot.
Sakuragi reacted, stepping forward and yelling, "You're not scoring!"
But the moment he moved, Katsumi pulled back from the shot, slipped past Sakuragi's side with a quick step.
"A fake… damn it!"
Sakuragi realized he'd been fooled, but his balance was already thrown off. He couldn't stop.
Katsumi grinned slyly. Taking advantage of Sakuragi's misstep, he drove his elbow into space and scored an easy bucket under the rim.
After that, it was like Shohoku got sucked into quicksand.
Ryokufu's defense tightened like steel armor. They didn't give Shohoku an inch of space and forced nearly all their offense beyond the arc.
The Shohoku players were being tightly marked by Ryokufu. They couldn't even find space to raise their arms and pass. With every possession, mistakes piled up, giving Ryokufu chance after chance to launch counterattacks.
Ryokufu's offense turned fierce. Their players moved like they were on a high, constantly switching and supporting each other. Shohoku's defense couldn't keep up. Openings were exposed left and right, and they could only watch as the ball swished through the net again and again.
Shohoku tried to adjust. But Ryokufu didn't give them a second to breathe.
Their offense surged like a tidal wave. Shohoku was being pummeled, left flailing with no room to fight back. It felt like they were completely outmatched.
The previously tied score was now steadily being pulled apart.
Shohoku Bench.
"How could this happen? We were neck and neck just a moment ago!" Ayako stared at the sudden shift on the court, her eyes wide.
She couldn't understand it. Just a few plays ago, the match was back and forth. How had it flipped so quickly?
Kogure Kiminobu frowned, clearly anxious. "This isn't good. We've got to come up with something fast."
He turned to the always calm Shimizu Kanon beside him and asked hesitantly, "Should we call a timeout?"
Kanon didn't take her eyes off the court. She shook her head with zero hesitation. "Not yet. Shohoku isn't going down that easily."
Time ticked on.
Half the first half had already passed.
Ryokufu's offense showed no signs of slowing down.
Katsumi Ichirou nailed three-pointers right in Mitsui Hisashi's face—more than once.
Mitsui's face was dark as coal. His fists clenched so tight, his knuckles went white. His chest burned with frustration.
Rukawa Kaede was still locked down by Michael Okita. No matter how much he shifted and cut, he couldn't break free.
He tried again and again to drive through, but every time he got shut down.
Nadaka Hikaru was matching Akagi Takenori blow for blow in the paint. Their battle for dominance was dead even—neither giving an inch.
Ryokufu Bench.
Fujisawa Eri couldn't hide her growing smile as she watched her team take over.
She had insisted on scheduling this practice game with Shohoku to boost Ryokufu's name in the shortest time possible.
Shohoku was the reigning champion. Win or lose, just facing them was already a win in the PR game.
As long as Ryokufu didn't get completely humiliated, they could spin the story afterward. And if they actually won? That would be perfect.
The red digits on the scoreboard glared like warning lights.
There were 10 minutes left in the first half.
Shohoku's offense had stalled completely. Their scoring had stopped cold.
The scoreboard now read:
Shohoku 8 — 18 Ryokufu
Ryokufu was up by 10 points.
The match continued.
Shohoku had possession.
Miyagi Ryota drove the ball up the court.
"Don't force it! Pass!" Mitsui called from downcourt with his hand raised.
But Miyagi only gave him a glance. He didn't pass.
He picked up speed, trying to cross half-court and look for a better angle.
With that, he switched hands and spun fast, breaking past Ebina Noka's defense.
But the moment he stepped over midcourt, Michael Okita appeared in front of him.
Miyagi locked his eyes on Okita, reading his every move.
Then, suddenly, Okita spun a full 360 right in front of him. He dropped low, extended one arm like an eagle snatching prey—and cleanly stripped the ball from Miyagi's hands.
"What—?"
Miyagi had no idea what just happened. He froze, stunned.
Okita didn't pause. He sprinted down the court with the ball, heading straight for Shohoku's basket.
Akagi and Rukawa quickly dropped into position, guarding the paint on either side.
Okita stayed cool. Just before the three-point line, he tossed the ball backward to the trailing Nadaka Hikaru.
Before Shohoku could adjust, Nadaka passed to Totsuka Tetsuya.
Rukawa moved fast, cutting off Totsuka's path.
Totsuka came to a hard stop.
Sakuragi, chasing behind, couldn't brake in time and ran right past him.
Totsuka took one look around and flicked the ball to the opposite wing—to Katsumi Ichirou, wide open beyond the arc.
Crap.
Mitsui's face changed. He sprinted toward Katsumi—but the gap was too big.
Katsumi squared up at the three-point line. He rose, aimed, and shot.
Whoosh…
The ball drew a clean arc in the air and dropped straight through the net.
Swish…
Scoreboard update:
Shohoku 8 — 21 Ryokufu