Inside the stadium,
the air seemed to be sucked away in an instant.
Nagumo Kentaro stared blankly at the missed shot, the orange basketball rolling weakly toward the sideline.
His breathing faltered. Sweat dripped from his brow and splashed onto the floor.
For a moment, his mind was completely empty—like it had been struck by lightning.
That jump shot just now…
His form was correct. The arc was perfect.
And yet, the hoop had felt as if it suddenly shrank.
At the top of the arc, Koshino Hiroaki cast him a sidelong glance. A cold sneer surfaced in his heart.
Idiot.
In a shootout this intense, failing to manage your stamina means missing is inevitable.
Ryonan's Bench
Aida Hikoichi lowered his camera slightly, pushing up his glasses with a sigh of regret.
"What a pity! I really thought they could keep that pace forever!"
Before he could finish, Coach Taoka Moichi's low voice cut in.
"This outcome was inevitable."
He folded his arms, eyes fixed on the panting Nagumo.
"Although their shooting guard is accurate, his method relies on catching and shooting while sprinting."
Taoka paused, his tone deepening.
"That kind of shot is hard to defend—but it drains stamina rapidly. Once physical strength drops, shooting touch follows. Missing becomes unavoidable."
"So that's how it is!"
Aida nodded vigorously, immediately jotting down notes.
"Still," Taoka added calmly, "the fact that he could trade shots with Koshino for so long shows genuine talent."
Back on the Court
Clang!
Nagumo Kentaro's next three-pointer struck the rim and bounced away, the metallic echo ringing sharply through the arena.
Under the basket, Uozumi leaped like a wild beast, arms stretched wide, confident the rebound was his.
Then—
A shadow burst in from the weak side.
Fast. Decisive.
Just as Uozumi's fingertips reached upward, the ball was snatched away at its highest point.
Sasaki Shouta.
Grabbing the ball one-handed midair, he twisted his body—
BANG!
A violent one-handed put-back dunk crashed through the hoop.
The backboard shuddered, releasing an explosive roar.
"What—?!"
Uozumi's pupils shrank violently.
All he could see was Sasaki's back as he landed.
Tch…
Anger surged through him—not just for losing the rebound, but for his own momentary lapse.
The opponent was nearly ten centimeters shorter… yet still beat him to the ball.
Carelessness.
That single dunk forcefully halted Ippon Nari's decline.
The crowd's roar tilted instantly, and Ippon Nari's morale surged.
"Sorry…" Nagumo lowered his head. "That shot was rushed."
"Enough."
Sasaki interrupted him, voice low and firm.
"The opponent is Ryonan—a top-four team. You've already done more than enough."
He placed a heavy hand on Nagumo's shoulder.
"Leave the rest to us."
Aoi Tsuyoshi stepped forward, fists clenched, eyes burning.
"That's right. We haven't lost yet."
"If we can maintain this rhythm… we might actually beat them."
His words were quiet—but sharp, like sparks igniting dry grass.
For a moment, hope flickered.
Maybe… we really can win.
They traded threes.
They fought for rebounds.
They held the score tight.
Ryonan no longer looked invincible.
But illusion was cruel.
Nagumo's shooting chances were built upon the entire team's movement—
Kazama's playmaking.
Sasaki's screens.
Aoi's off-ball pressure.
Remove one piece, and the system collapsed.
Koshino, on the other hand, relied on clean long passes from Uekusa, Sendo's screens, and his own individual execution.
Ryonan's system was simpler—
and far more mature.
When the score was close, they could change the game at will.
And once Ippon Nari's shooting cooled…
The collapse began.
The restart was merciless.
Before Ippon Nari could fully set their defense—
before their frontcourt even crossed half-court—
Ryonan's counterattack had already arrived.
Uekusa received the inbound and flicked the ball forward.
Sendo sprinted down the sideline like a cheetah.
Uozumi plunged straight into the restricted area, his massive body sealing Sasaki behind him.
Ikegami set a perfect screen.
Sendo cut in.
A single smooth motion.
Swish.
Eight seconds.
One possession.
No hesitation.
The scoreboard changed silently.
Cold.
Sasaki bent over, hands on his knees, breathing ragged.
That layup was ice water—
dousing the fragile flame of hope they had just ignited.
From that moment on, it was no longer a shootout.
It was suppression.
Uozumi ruled the paint.
Sendo dictated tempo.
Uekusa controlled rhythm.
Koshino and Ikegami sliced the perimeter.
Each possession was surgical.
This wasn't luck.
This was hierarchy.
Timeout
Beep—!
Ippon Nari called a timeout.
Their players trudged to the bench, jerseys soaked, eyes dulled by relentless pressure.
The coach clenched the edge of the tactics board, knuckles whitening.
Is it still not enough…?
He exhaled sharply and raised his voice.
"The game isn't over yet!"
"We'll shift our focus to the interior. Sasaki—pull Uozumi out. Create space."
"Nagumo, Kazama—feed Aoi and Miyazawa."
"Aoi, Miyazawa—once you receive the ball inside the arc, shoot. No hesitation."
The players straightened.
"Yes!"
Ryonan's Bench
Calm.
Relaxed.
And in the corner—
Akashi.
His gaze never left the opposing bench.
From the coach's pen strokes…
to clenched fists…
to strained expressions—
He read everything.
A faint curve appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Then, he stood.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Akashi's voice was quiet—but crushing.
"They haven't given up."
"Which means they still have strength."
This was Akashi.
He didn't aim to win.
He aimed to extinguish hope itself.
"Uozumi—Sasaki will try to pull you out."
"Sendo, Ikegami—cut off the elbow and mid-range lanes."
"Koshino, Uekusa—pressure before the pass. Force turnovers."
Simple.
Precise.
Merciless.
The whistle sounded.
Ryonan returned to the court—
and the trap closed.