The post-game meal was a quieter affair this time. They had discovered a noodle stall run by a silent, mechanical chef that served a surprisingly good approximation of lomi-lomi. The aches and pains were deeper now, more specific. Bornok had a spectacular purple bruise blooming on his shoulder from a collision with Akagi.
"I think their center is part truck," he mumbled, poking at the bruise and wincing.
"You're just soft," Renz said, though he was carefully rotating his own stiff ankle under the table.
Thea was studying the data pad again. "Ryonan High is next. Their star player is Akira Sendoh. The scouting report says he's... versatile. And deceptively lazy-looking."
"Lazy?" Riki asked, slurping a noodle.
"Apparently, he's a genius who doesn't always show full effort. But when he does..." She trailed off, showing a clip of Sendoh effortlessly weaving through three defenders for a no-look pass.
Teo watched the clip, his expression unreadable. "He sees the court."
"Great. Another genius," Bornok groaned. "I'm starting to hate that word."
As they ate, a tall, lanky figure in a Ryonan jacket ambled past their stall. He paused, glanced at them with a calm, observant eye, and gave a small, easygoing smile before continuing on his way.
Riki put his chopsticks down. "Was that...?"
Thea nodded. "Akira Sendoh."
The brief, silent encounter hung in the air. There was no trash talk, no dramatic challenge. Just a quiet acknowledgment. The next opponent was no longer just a name on a bracket. He had a face, and a smile that promised a very different kind of challenge.