From the first possession, Kainan's system was suffocating. They ran their plays with metronomic precision. Pass, cut, screen, pass. The ball never stuck. Maki was a maestro, directing traffic with subtle flicks of his wrists and eyes.
Flowstate's defense, usually based on reads and rhythm, was constantly a half-step behind. They were reacting, not anticipating. A backdoor cut led to an easy layup. 2-0. A flare screen freed up their shooting guard, Jin, for a clean three. 5-0.
On offense, Flowstate found no room. Kainan's defensive rotations were seamless. Every drive was met by two help defenders. Every pass was contested. Riki tried to force the tempo, but Maki cut off his angles, herding him into traps.
Teo struggled to get deep position against Sorayama, who used his lower body strength to perfection. Bornok was neutralized by their power forward's constant, smart positioning.
The first quarter ended: Kainan 24, Flowstate 12.
It was their largest deficit yet. They walked to the bench under the weight of Kainan's flawless execution. It wasn't that Kainan was more talented; they were just perfect. And perfection, in basketball, is a relentless, demoralizing force.