Inside the arena, all eyes were fixed on the same corner of the court.
Miyagi Ryota stood frozen, eyes wide with disbelief.
Moments ago, he had clearly rushed past Akashi. His knees were still bent forward, momentum carrying his body ahead, arms slightly spread—everything about his posture screamed successful breakthrough.
Yet something was terribly wrong.
Miyagi's hands were empty.
The basketball was gone.
Akashi Seijuro still stood exactly where he had been from the beginning.
He hadn't shifted his feet.
Hadn't changed his stance.
Only his right hand was raised slightly—firmly gripping the orange basketball.
The steal had happened in an instant.
One or two seconds at most.
So fast that no one—players, spectators, even the referees—could clearly see how Akashi had taken the ball from Miyagi's hands.
Thump… thump… thump…
Akashi dribbled forward with his fingertips, rhythm crisp and controlled. His figure surged ahead like a streak of red lightning, charging straight toward Shohoku's half.
The basketball danced obediently beneath him.
Just as he neared Shohoku's three-point line, a red figure burst diagonally into his path.
Sakuragi Hanamichi.
"Akashi…" Sakuragi growled low, arms spread wide, eyes blazing as he locked onto his target.
But in Akashi's eyes—
Sakuragi's fierce aura was obvious, yet so was his immaturity.
His stance was rough.
His center of gravity unstable.
His movements driven more by instinct than calculation.
Akashi merely glanced at him.
No tension.
No caution.
He didn't take this opponent seriously.
Thump… thump…
Two rapid changes of direction.
Akashi's footwork flickered, instantly tightening Sakuragi's gaze.
Then, with a quick flip of his wrist, Akashi feinted a turn, his body angling as if to break through.
Sakuragi reacted instinctively, shifting his weight to follow.
And at that very moment—
Akashi stopped.
A light adjustment of his feet.
A sudden lateral step.
He slipped past effortlessly.
"Ah—damn it!" Sakuragi cursed as Akashi's figure pulled away. Panic surged as he spun and chased after him. "Stop right there!"
Akashi didn't slow down.
Not even for a heartbeat.
He continued straight toward Shohoku's basket.
Under the rim, Takenori Akagi was already waiting.
Feet planted.
Knees bent.
Arms spread wide.
He stood like an iron tower guarding the restricted area.
As Akashi charged in, Akagi's vigilance rose to its peak. His breathing softened, his focus narrowing completely onto Akashi alone.
Two steps into the paint—
Akashi suddenly stopped.
Sakuragi had already caught up from behind.
If Akashi forced a shot now, he would be sandwiched—Akagi in front, Sakuragi crashing in from the rear.
But just as the double-team formed—
Akashi stepped back and slightly to the side.
The movement was sudden, sharp, like a gust of wind.
Just enough.
Sakuragi, charging at full speed, saw Akashi sidestep—
His heart skipped.
He tried to stop.
But it was too late.
He had come in far too hard.
Inertia dragged his body forward uncontrollably, shoe soles screeching harshly against the floor.
Directly ahead of him—
Takenori Akagi.
Akagi's pupils shrank.
He had been tracking Akashi's movements when a red blur suddenly slammed toward him.
There was no time to react.
"Oh no—!" Sakuragi's heart dropped as Akagi's figure filled his vision. He tried to twist away, but his body refused to obey.
Bang!
A dull, explosive impact echoed beneath the basket.
Sakuragi crashed squarely into Akagi.
The two fell heavily to the floor like collapsing sandbags, the court itself seeming to tremble.
Akashi didn't even glance back.
He stood calmly, lifting the ball above his head, gaze precisely locked onto the center of the hoop.
No hesitation.
A gentle push of his fingertips—
The basketball arced smoothly.
Swish.
Clean through the net.
The entire arena froze.
Spectators.
Players.
Coaches.
Reporters.
All stared in stunned silence.
No one had imagined that a solid defensive setup would end with Shohoku's own players crashing into each other.
"So… painful…" Akagi grimaced, cold sweat forming on his forehead as a dull ache spread through his chest.
He tried to push himself up—
But felt a heavy weight pressing down on him.
He forced his eyes open.
Sakuragi Hanamichi was sprawled across his chest, face twisted in pain and confusion.
Akagi's expression darkened instantly.
Veins bulged across his forehead.
Bang!
His fist slammed down hard on Sakuragi's head.
"You idiot!!"
"Ow—!" Sakuragi clutched his head, eyes watering as he protested. "G-Gorilla, I didn't mean to! This is all Akashi's fault—"
Before he could finish—
Thump!
The basketball Akashi had just scored dropped from the net, bounced once—
And smacked squarely into the back of Sakuragi's head.
"Aiya—!"
The strength drained from Sakuragi's limbs.
Plop.
His face slammed straight into the floor, dragging Akagi down with him—face to face.
The stadium fell into complete silence.
Even Akashi hadn't anticipated that.
The shot hitting Sakuragi's head was pure coincidence.
Nothing more than terrible luck.
He glanced down briefly at Sakuragi clutching his head—eyes calm, unruffled—then turned and walked back toward his own half, as if none of it concerned him.
But Sakuragi, struggling back to his feet, was already burning with rage.
Veins throbbed on his forehead as he pointed at Akashi's back and roared,
"You bastard! You ambushed me—damn it!"
He lunged forward.
Mitsui Hisashi and Miyagi Ryota rushed in from either side, grabbing his arms.
"Calm down, Sakuragi!" Miyagi urged.
"You'll get ejected if you fight!" Mitsui warned.
"I don't care—let go of me! I'll teach him a lesson!" Sakuragi snarled, thrashing violently.
Then—
A shadow fell over them.
Miyagi and Mitsui stiffened.
They turned, exchanged a glance, and immediately released Sakuragi, stepping aside.
"Huh…?"
Sakuragi blinked, still mid-struggle.
Why did they let go?
A chill crept up his neck.
Before he could react—
Thump!
Another sharp pain exploded at the back of his head.
His vision went black as his body pitched forward, flipping headfirst into the floor.
Takenori Akagi stood behind him, fists clenched, rage barely contained.
"Behave yourself…" he growled low.
"You scoundrel."
"Go… ri… lla…" Sakuragi muttered weakly, face pressed to the cold floor, body twitching in protest.
It was only a brief interlude.
The game resumed quickly.
But Sakuragi's fury had reached its peak.
Something inside him snapped open.
His eyes burned.
His movements grew faster—far faster than before.
Soon, Miyagi seized an opening and fired a perfect pass.
The instant Sakuragi caught the ball, he charged forward without hesitation.
Like a runaway red beast.
Fukuda Kiccho chased desperately, his steps blurring, yet no matter how fast he ran, he stayed one step behind.
"Don't get carried away," Koshino Hiroaki warned, cutting in from the side with arms spread.
"Get lost!" Sakuragi roared, smashing forward.
"Sakuragi—don't be reckless!" Akagi shouted from behind.
Too late.
Sakuragi slammed into Koshino.
He didn't stop—only twisted his body, shoulder-checking past him.
Koshino lost his balance and crashed to the floor.
The referee only frowned.
No whistle.
A legal challenge.
"That bastard…" Koshino muttered as he pushed himself up.
Sakuragi had already reached the basket.
Uozumi waited there—solid, immovable.
"Kneel before me!" Sakuragi bellowed, leaping for a powerful dunk.
But—
Just as he gathered to jump—
A shadow flashed behind him.
Fukuda had caught up.
Slap!
The ball was smacked cleanly away.
"Damn it—!" Sakuragi realized too late.
He was already airborne.
Grabbing nothing but air.
"You thief!!" he roared mid-air.
The loose ball fell straight into Uozumi's hands.
"Well done," Uozumi said calmly.
Without hesitation, he hurled a long pass downcourt.
The ball shot forward like a cannonball.
Sendoh was already sprinting ahead.
He caught it in stride.
"Oh no!" Shohoku shouted in unison.
Too late.
Sendoh glided into the empty restricted area, lifted lightly—
Swish.
Another clean score.