Back in the film room, the mood was grim. The footage was a brutal replay of their inadequacy. Midorima's threes were a constant, demoralizing highlight.
"How do you defend that?" Bornok muttered, slumping in his chair. "You can't."
"We can't," Riki agreed, his voice low. "Not yet." He paused the footage on a frame of Teo, standing near the three-point line, his defender sagging off him, daring him to shoot. "We defended it the only way we could. We tried to outscore them inside. It wasn't enough."
He turned to face the team. "They have a weapon we can't match. So we need to build one they can't ignore." His gaze landed on Teo. "He scored from the parking lot. Next time, we need to answer from the parking lot."
Teo met his look, understanding dawning in his calm eyes. The unspoken challenge hung in the air. The 7'1 center, the paint anchor, the silent Titan. To counter the ultimate perimeter threat, he would have to evolve. The blueprint for their revenge, for the next season, was being drawn—not in a new defensive scheme, but in the silent, relentless work of expanding a game beyond its limits.
The loss was a setback. But in The City, with its endless seasons, a setback was just the prelude to a comeback.