"Beep! Magunishi calls a timeout!"
The first half wasn't even over, and Toyotama High School had already racked up 64 points, completely dominating the court. Poor Magunishi was utterly helpless, barely managing 29 points in return.
Kishimoto's loyal follower, Okawa Teruo, hurried over with a towel.
"Kishimoto-senpai! You're incredible out there!"
"Hmph, of course I am!" Kishimoto replied smugly, wiping his sweat. He glanced up at the first row of the stands, where Shohoku's players were seated. "Those guys from Shohoku must be terrified by now, huh?"
Itakura, sitting nearby, nodded in agreement.
"Of course. They're just a bunch of frogs at the bottom of a well. This is their first National Tournament—they've never seen a team with an offense as flashy as ours."
Kishimoto burst out laughing.
"You're right! Hahahaha!"
Meanwhile, Akagi—the so-called leader of those "frogs"—had a complicated expression.
"Is this really the level of teams at the National Tournament?" he muttered.
For years, Akagi had dreamed of standing on this stage, imagining it as a sacred ground where the best of the best competed. Yet what he was witnessing was far from the dream. Magunishi wasn't even on par with the top eight teams in Kanagawa. They were completely outmatched—just warm-up material for Toyotama.
As for Toyotama themselves, Akagi found their strength unimpressive. They were far from threatening Shohoku.
At least in the paint, he alone could crush their entire inside lineup.
For the first time, Akagi couldn't help but wonder—
Did I choose the wrong school?
The others from Shohoku weren't faring much better mentally.
Mitsui yawned, bored.
"So this is what they call an A-rank team? Those magazine writers really don't know basketball."
Miyagi crossed his legs, unimpressed.
"All that trash talk, and this is all they've got? What a letdown."
He had originally been itching to face Itakura, but after watching this, his motivation was gone. Beating up weaklings wasn't satisfying.
Nango, already knowing how this game would go, had lost interest long ago. His plan was to use this match as a reminder for his teammates to stay alert to Toyotama's dirty tactics—but Magunishi was so weak that Toyotama didn't even need to use them.
Seeing no point in staying, Nango said,
"How about we go watch Aiwa Academy's game? They're in our bracket, and I heard their ace, Moroboshi Dai, is pretty good."
Mitsui checked the schedule.
"Aiwa's game's pretty far from here. By the time we arrive, it'll probably be over. We might as well go watch Ryonan—it's close by."
That caught Nango's interest. He really wanted to see how Ryonan performed on the national stage.
Kogure smiled.
"No matter what, they're still from Kanagawa. Let's go support them."
Akagi nodded in agreement. Despite their rivalry, there was mutual respect between him and Uozumi. Both were veteran players stepping onto the national stage for the first time—a bond only they could understand.
With no objections, Shohoku, led by Akagi, stood up and headed for Ryonan's venue.
Their tall frames made them stand out as they exited, catching Itakura's attention.
"They're just leaving like that?"
Kishimoto laughed mockingly.
"Hahahaha! They must've gone to squeeze in last-minute training. What idiots. What good will that do?"
Minami shot them a brief glance before turning back to the court.
No matter who we face, I'll lead Toyotama to victory this year—with our run-and-gun style.
The coach of Fukushima Prefecture's Shiramatsu High School was shouting himself hoarse.
"Three men on him! Don't let him pass! Stop him at all costs!"
At his command, three defenders swarmed the number 7 player in blue.
But the player stayed calm—too calm. With one swift crossover, he broke through their trap, leaving all three defenders behind, and dished out a perfect assist for an easy layup.
Aida Yayoi's eyes sparkled.
"Sendo's amazing! Only the National stage could bring out his true brilliance! Go, Sendo!"
"Miss Aida, please calm down!" her colleague Nakamura whispered awkwardly as nearby reporters began to glance their way.
Unlike the Prefectural Tournament, the National stage had designated media seating—no more makeshift stools by the sidelines.
"I've never heard of Ryonan High, but they're not bad," one reporter said.
"Yeah, that forward combo is elite. They might be this year's dark horse."
"Not so fast," another countered. "Their frontcourt's strong, sure, but their backcourt's weak. Number 13's defense is shaky. Against top-tier teams, that'll be a problem."
Despite Aida's fangirling, most reporters stayed focused on the analysis.
"Nice one! Keep the momentum!"
Coach Taoka barked instructions from the sideline before retreating to his seat. He had even worn a crisp white shirt today, which—paired with his rare smile—made him look younger than usual.
"This is just the beginning," he said proudly. "With this lineup, reaching the top eight is completely possible. Next year's recruitment will be a breeze. Years of work are finally paying off."
"It looks like Ryonan's going to win easily," one spectator commented.
"They shouldn't have trouble for the next two rounds either."
"Tch, lucky draw," Kiyota muttered.
"Don't be so narrow-minded," Maki said calmly. "We'll take it back at the Winter Tournament."
Coach Kōzō sighed softly beside them. Maki is such a perfect player… but he only has half a year left.
Who could possibly succeed him?
Kainan's purpose in Hiroshima wasn't just to spectate—they were scouting new talent. But after several games, Coach Kōzō hadn't found anyone who truly fit the mold.
After all, cornerstones weren't easy to find.
"Oh? Look—it's Sannoh!"
"Where? Over there!"
The sudden arrival of Sannoh Industrial, the defending champions, instantly drew the crowd's attention.
Kainan's trio also turned.
Maki smiled faintly. "Didn't expect the Kings themselves to come watch Ryonan."
Coach Kōzō frowned.
"Even if they're scouting, isn't this too early? They won't meet Ryonan until the semifinals. What's Coach Domoto planning?"
"Hmm?" Sawakita Eiji narrowed one eye, studying the court carefully.
Big Kawata glanced at him. "What is it?"
Sawakita pointed toward the court.
"That number 7—the one with the spiky hair. I remember him from middle school. He was pretty good."
"Oh?" Kawata wasn't sure whether Sawakita was praising Sendo or just subtly complimenting himself.
On the court, a similar exchange happened between Uozumi and Sendo.
"What's wrong, Sendo?"
"That guy in the middle… Kitazawa. I played against him in middle school. Back then, I couldn't beat him."
Uozumi nodded seriously. "If you're saying he's strong, then he must be."
"Eh?!" Sakuragi suddenly shouted from the stands. "Yaru? You're here too?!"
Kiyota turned around, exasperated.
"Idiot! Of course I'm here to watch the games!"
"Hahaha! That's tough, huh? Anyway, make sure you come watch my National Tournament debut tomorrow!" Sakuragi laughed triumphantly, hands on his hips.
Kiyota ground his teeth.
"Damn it… that arrogant guy…"
Maki chuckled and waved.
"Akagi, come sit over here."
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