After the first quarter ended, everyone on Yokonan's team slumped onto the bench. Sweat dripped down their faces, and their jerseys clung to their backs.
The gym was thick with the heavy rhythm of their breathing, broken only by the occasional creak of the bench under their weight.
Out of all the players, Manabu's eyes were the most vacant, though the glint on his glasses betrayed the thoughts racing behind them.
He stared at the hardwood floor as if it held some hidden answer he could never find.
Kogure leaned back slightly, hands tucked in his jacket pockets, and let out a quiet sigh.
Twenty-five to eighteen… Toshigawa really did a number on us.
His gaze flicked across the court to the other team.
They've pushed us into a corner. What will you do, Coach?
At Toshigawa's bench, the energy was completely different—calm, focused, and controlled.
Haruko walked briskly over and handed Tetsuo a towel. He accepted it with a brief nod, dragging the rough fabric across his slick forehead. The white cloth darkened almost instantly, soaked through with salty sweat.
"Great work out there, Coach," she said, a small, admiring smile tugging at her lips.
So she's still calling me that, huh… Tetsuo thought, his face completely unreadable.
"Thank you," he said simply, wiping the last streak of sweat from his face. His breathing was steady, almost unnervingly calm for someone who had just played such an intense quarter.
"Wait… so where's my towel?" Noboru wheezed, doubling over and gasping for air.
He's so dramatic, Nanaho thought, raising an eyebrow.
"Tetsuo is the best. Thank God he's on our side," Hayato remarked, chugging water, the plastic bottle crinkling with every squeeze.
"You can say that again," Takahiro added, wiping his brow with the edge of his jersey.
"Great work out there, everyone. That was a strong quarter," Nanaho announced, stepping in front of the team, clipboard tucked at her hip.
"You really shifted the flow of the game, Tetsuo. Thank you."
Noboru was practically hyperventilating beside her, making her eyebrow twitch in irritation.
"Noboru, you look exhausted," she noted, crouching slightly to meet his eyes, a teasing smirk playing at her lips.
"Well, of course I am! You had me running the entire quarter!" he sputtered, sucking in air with every word.
"No need to be so dramatic. We still have three quarters to go," she added, patting his shoulder. Her tone was firm, but not unkind.
On the Yokonan bench, Coach Arimoto sat with his eyes closed. He inhaled slowly through his nose, then exhaled through his mouth, muscles tight as he fought to suppress his anger.
Here it comes, both Kayano and Kogure thought at the same time.
Suddenly, the coach's voice cut through the gym, sharp and commanding.
"Words can't even begin to describe how disappointed I am in you. Six whole minutes… and not a single damn point. Six minutes of standing there, letting a team with more rookies than seniors push you into a corner. Pathetic!"
His grip on the new clipboard tightened until it creaked. A few players lowered their eyes, unable to meet his glare.
Come on, Coach… that'll be the second one today if you break it, Kayano thought with a resigned sigh.
Arimoto turned to Manabu, who avoided his gaze.
"Manabu, you let one player shut you down completely. The rest of you? You just stood there and let it happen."
He paused, letting the sound of the sneakers squeaking on the hardwood fill the brief silence.
"Do you honestly think we can reach the Inter-High playing like this? If you can't even beat Toshigawa, you might as well not step on the court at all."
"Coach," Kayano interrupted, rising to his feet and smoothly sliding off his jacket, tossing it onto the bench.
"What is it, Kayano?" Arimoto asked, his voice sharp.
"Do you mind if I play in the second quarter? I'll be taking Eiji's place."
Arimoto raised an eyebrow, then let out a short grunt. "Fine. Take over the game—but make sure not to mess up like your teammates."
Kayano adjusted his jersey with practiced ease, calm confidence radiating from his posture.
"Relax, Coach. This game's in the bag."
Manabu sat slumped over, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly.
How did that one player single-handedly take the lead from us? He completely shut me down. Where is he from? Am I not good enough to play against this guy?
The thoughts gnawed at him, louder than any sound in the gym.
A sharp whistle cut through the air, signaling the end of the break. Sneakers screeched across the hardwood as players pushed off the bench and stretched, shaking off their fatigue.
"Alright, team, let's go win this!" Yukio called, slapping his hands together.
Noboru… Nanaho stepped in front of where he sat on the bench.
"Take a break for now. Shino will be playing the second quarter," she instructed, her tone steady.
"What?! No way!" Noboru jumped to his feet, eyes wide, chest heaving.
"You're exhausted. We need you for the last minutes, so rest now," she continued, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.
"But even if Katsuragi goes on, it won't make a difference. He'll just hold them back!" Noboru snapped, fists clenching at his sides.
Nanaho's voice turned icy.
"That's it! One more word out of you, and you'll sit on the bench for the rest of the game."
Noboru flinched, raising his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! I understand! I'm sorry!"
Shino walked toward the court, steps hesitant, head lowered. Noboru's words still pressed against his chest.
"Hey, Shino," Hayato called, adjusting his jersey into his shorts.
Shino looked up.
"Look alive. Let's win this," Hayato added, smirking as he extended his fist.
Shino bumped fists with him, a small, sincere smile flickering across his face.
That's right. Now's not the time to let his words make me feel useless. I'll do everything I can to help this team win, he thought, resolve hardening.
Sneakers screeched against the hardwood as the Yokonan players rose, each movement sharp with renewed focus and determination.
"Substitution, Yokonan!" the referee called. Kayano adjusted his jersey and stepped onto the court. His sneakers squeaked as he tapped them against the hardwood, feeling its grip.
"Finally, I can get a piece of the action," he muttered, cracking his neck.
I knew he had to play his cards sooner or later… but I didn't expect it this early, Nanaho thought, clutching her clipboard a little tighter.
No… they'll be fine. We still have the lead.
He actually put Kayano in the game. This is going to be fun, Hayato thought, a crooked grin tugging at his lips.
On the first possession of the second quarter, Manabu's chest rose and fell rapidly, brows furrowed in concentration as he scanned the court. He wiped the sweat trailing down his temple and inbounded the basketball to Kayano.
Kayano caught the ball with practiced ease. He dribbled it between his legs from behind, then wrapped it neatly behind his back. The ball thumped softly against the hardwood as he pushed forward up the court, his eyes calm and unreadable.
Hayato stepped up to guard him, knees bent, feet planted firmly. A subtle twitch ran through his fingers—hesitation he couldn't fully hide.
I have to be careful marking him. Unlike Eiji, he's calm with the ball and has better handles… Nevertheless, I have to stop him for the team, Hayato thought, jaw tightening.
He shifted his stance slightly, one hand low, the other raised, ready for whatever move came next.
Kayano stood a few feet away, body loose, almost relaxed. He dribbled the ball between his legs in a steady rhythm, the sharp slap-slap of leather echoing across the court.
Hayato planted himself in front of him, frozen in his defensive stance.
Then, without warning, Kayano exploded forward. His sneakers screeched against the hardwood as he accelerated with effortless force. His body shifted so quickly it left Hayato flat-footed, Kayano slipping past him with ease.
Hayato's eyes widened.
Crap! He's already past me! he thought, lunging to catch up, breath catching in his throat.
Kayano drove to the hoop with silky precision. Yukio, waiting in the paint, tensed. His muscles coiled like springs as he tracked Kayano, eyes locked on his every move.
Just as Yukio leapt to block, stretching his arm high, Kayano flicked his wrist sideways, sending a sharp bounce pass under the basket.
Ryuu caught it in stride. He launched into the air effortlessly, legs extended, arms pulled back like a bow ready to snap. Time seemed to slow as he hung above the rim. Then—
BOOM! The dunk slammed through the hoop, rattling the backboard and sending vibrations through the floor.
The crowd erupted, voices spilling over the bleachers in a roar of excitement.
"Hell yeah, now we're fired up!" Ryuu shouted, jogging back on defense, a fierce grin splitting his face.
"Nice play, Takeshi! Keep it up!" a Yokonan student called, waving arms wildly from the sidelines.
Nanaho clenched her clipboard at her side, sharp, thoughtful eyes fixed on the court.
Takeshi Kayano is a fierce one, she mused. He can change pace, speed, and direction at will. Not to mention, he's excellent at creating openings for his teammates—the ideal point guard for a team.
On the next possession, Takahiro threaded the ball through his defender's legs into the paint, finding Yukio already jostling for position against Ryuu. The air felt thick with tension, both players' muscles coiled tight.
Yukio faked a spin to the right. Ryuu took the bait.
"Damn it!" Ryuu growled, scrambling to regain his footing.
Yukio spun back to the left, brushing Ryuu's shoulder as he leapt. His shot hit the backboard softly and dropped in with a satisfying swish.
Takahiro pumped his fist as the team jogged back on defense. The crowd murmured in response—not as loud as before, but a spark of hope flickering through their voices.
Kayano caught the ball again and began dribbling up the court, his expression as composed as ever. Sweat glistened along his brow, dripping into his hairline. Each bounce of the ball thumped sharply against the hardwood, reverberating up through his sneakers.
Hayato slid in front of him once more, knees bent, shoulders squared. His nostrils flared with every breath, chest rising and falling rapidly. His fingers twitched slightly at his sides, betraying the tension coiling in his muscles.
I have to stop him…
"You won't get by me as easily as last time!" he barked, voice cracking under the strain, breath rattling in his throat.
Kayano didn't respond. He dribbled the ball between his legs, the leather slapping rhythmically against the court, then spun halfway, baiting Hayato forward. Their chests nearly brushed; the squeak of sneakers cut sharply through the gym.
But it was a trap.
Mid-spin, Kayano slid the ball behind his back and darted in the opposite direction. The pivot was flawless, sneakers scraping sharply, leaving Hayato stumbling, arms flailing to regain balance.
"No… not again. How's he this fast?" Hayato gasped, jaw tight, pivoting hard. His feet skidded across the sweat-slick floor.
Kayano surged toward the rim. The crowd stirred, murmurs rising in anticipation. Yukio tensed in the paint, legs planted wide, eyes flicking between Kayano and Ryuu, muscles coiled and ready.
Kayano's shoulders feinted toward Ryuu. Yukio lunged sideways, arms snapping out, trying to intercept the pass.
Kayano kept the ball. He pulled up suddenly, body rising smoothly, arms extending. The flick of his wrist sent the ball in a perfect arc.
Swish. Nothing but net.
"Nice one, Kayano!" Eiji shouted from the bench, springing to his feet, arms pumping as adrenaline surged through him.
Nanaho's fingers hovered near her lips, then dug into her lower jaw as she bit down on her fingernail—hard. Her leg bounced rapidly beneath the clipboard she held, the edge pressing into her thigh with every jolt.
Hayato can't keep up with Kayano… this is bad.
Her thoughts raced.
Should I switch his mark to Tetsuo? No… if Hayato rotates off, who covers Manabu? Yukio's already tied up with Ryuu. I can't double Kayano either—that would leave the corners wide open for Manabu's threes. Noboru's more experienced than Shino, but he's exhausted.
Her nail snapped with a sharp click.
I'm out of options. What am I supposed to do? she thought bitterly.
Hayato's cheeks were flushed, breath coming in harsh pants. He gritted his teeth and attempted to regain control on offense, feinting left then crossing right, trying to shake Kayano—who remained crouched, poised in a perfect defensive stance.
For a split second, it seemed to work.
"Then—slap!" The ball was stripped clean.
The sound cracked through the gym like a whip. Gasps erupted from the sidelines. Kayano scooped up the ball and pivoted, sneakers scraping sharply against the hardwood as he turned the other direction. A sly grin crept across his face, the first one of the quarter.
"Let's score some points! Show them that Yokonan isn't filled with a bunch of pushovers!" he shouted, voice firm and full of pride.
"Yes!" his teammates echoed, some clapping, others moving across the court with renewed energy.
Even Eiji, sitting on the bench with a towel draped around his neck, leaned forward, jaw clenched, fire burning in his eyes as he chewed his gum sharply.
The momentum was shifting, and it could be felt everywhere: the heavy bass of the crowd's cheers, the steady thump-thump-thump of the basketball against hardwood, and the growing sense that Toshigawa was going to struggle against Yokonan's starting point guard.