Seiryō 144 – Shikoku 147.
0:50 remaining.
The roar of the crowd was deafening, a living, breathing entity pressing down on every inch of the court. Foam fingers waved, banners shook violently, and students slammed the bleachers in a frenzy but for the players, it was all noise. All distraction. On the hardwood, there was only the heat, the tension, the pounding of their hearts like war drums echoing through their bones.
Yuuto wiped the sweat streaking his forehead, grit in his teeth. He took a breath and locked eyes with his teammates.
Marcus, chest heaving, gasped for air but stood unwavering, a pillar of unyielding force. Shunjin's fists clenched, knuckles white, ready for the next cut. Daichi was low, every muscle coiled like a spring, sweat dripping from his chin and splashing onto the polished floor, leaving dark, glistening marks. Shunjin crouched near the arc, eyes wide, scanning the court for the slightest opening, every nerve screaming with anticipation.
