The gap wasn't gone.
But now it was visible.
And that meant—
The climb had truly begun.
Yuuto Kai didn't realize how dangerous that thought was until the ball was back in his hands.
Because for the first time since the game started, he wasn't just reacting to Hakuro Academy.
He was trying to answer them.
The second quarter bled on without mercy. The noise never dipped, the pressure never eased. Hakuro reset with the same calm precision, their movements sharp, synchronized—unrushed.
Yuuto wiped his palms on his shorts and inhaled.
I can keep up.
That belief—small, fragile—pushed him forward.
He attacked earlier than before. His dribble tightened. Shoulders squared. He tried to impose himself on the rhythm instead of reading it.
That was the mistake.
Ryu Kazen didn't rush him.
Didn't speed up.
Didn't change expression.
He simply waited.
And the moment Yuuto committed—just a fraction too much—
The ball vanished.
A clean strip.
No contact.
No sound.
Just absence.
