The timeout ended, and both teams returned to the court. The atmosphere had shifted—Shinmaruko's players no longer wore casual smiles. Their expressions were focused, intense, competitive.
Tokiwa brought the ball up the court, his movements more deliberate now. He surveyed the Kuzuryu defense with sharp eyes, his basketball IQ already working to identify weaknesses.
Sora crouched low in his defensive stance, tracking Tokiwa's every movement. His enhanced court vision picked up the subtle cues—the way Tokiwa's eyes flicked toward Chiba posting up inside, the slight shift in his grip on the ball indicating a potential pass.
"Stay tight!" Momoharu barked at his teammates. "No easy baskets!"
Tokiwa made his move, driving right. Sora slid with him, his defensive training kicking in. But Tokiwa was fast—prefecture-level fast—and his crossover was smooth, practiced over years of competitive play.
The crossover came quick and sharp. Sora managed to stay in front, barely, his low center of gravity helping him change direction. But Tokiwa had already achieved his objective—he'd collapsed the defense.
With a no-look pass, Tokiwa whipped the ball to Chiba, who had sealed Momoharu on the low block.
Chiba caught it, immediately backed down hard into Momoharu.
THUMP.
The impact was significant. Momoharu held his ground, but he could feel the difference immediately. Chiba was heavier, more experienced in post play, and his strength was comparable to Momoharu's own.
Chiba backed down again, testing Momoharu's resistance.
THUMP.
Momoharu gritted his teeth, pushing back with all his strength. For a moment, they were evenly matched—two powerful players locked in a battle of strength and will.
He's strong, Momoharu thought. But not stronger than me. Just more skilled at this.
Chiba, feeling Momoharu's resistance, smiled. This was what he'd been hoping for—a worthy opponent to test himself against.
He used a half-spin move, his footwork smooth and practiced. Momoharu reacted, staying with him, but Chiba's experience showed. He used a pump fake, drawing Momoharu slightly off balance, then exploded up for a short hook shot.
Momoharu jumped to contest, his hand reaching up.
But Chiba had anticipated this. He released the ball at an angle that avoided Momoharu's outstretched hand, using his body to shield the shot.
SWISH.
6-2.
Chiba landed and immediately turned to Momoharu, grinning. "Not bad, Hanazono. You've got some fight in you. But you're still too raw. A few years of actual practice and you might be able to stop me."
Momoharu's jaw clenched. The trash talk stung because it was partially true—his technique was nowhere near Chiba's level.
"Don't let it get to you," Sora said, jogging past. "We'll get it back."
Nabe inbounded to Sora, who brought the ball up the court. Immediately, he felt the difference from the opening possessions.
Tokiwa was on him like a shadow, his defensive pressure intense. The friendly demeanor was completely gone, replaced by fierce competitive focus.
"You got two lucky shots," Tokiwa said, his voice low. "That's over now. I'm not letting you embarrass me again."
Sora tried to create space with a dribble move, but Tokiwa's length bothered him. Those long arms, that quick lateral movement—this was what real defense looked like.
Sora called out for a screen. Chucky lumbered over, setting what could generously be called a screen—more of a gentle suggestion of a pick.
Tokiwa easily slid around it.
Sora recognized he wasn't getting an easy look. He made the smart play, passing to Momoharu at the elbow.
Momoharu caught it, immediately facing up against Chiba. The captain had backed off slightly, giving Momoharu space to shoot.
"Go ahead," Chiba said. "Show me that jump shot I heard so much about."
Momoharu knew this was a trap. Chiba was baiting him, knowing his mid-range game was still inconsistent. But backing down felt worse than missing.
He rose up for the jumper—
Chiba lunged forward with surprising speed for his size, his long arms extending.
The contest was perfect. Not quite a block, but enough to disrupt Momoharu's sight line and rhythm.
CLANG.
The ball hit the rim hard and bounced away.
Chiba boxed out Momoharu expertly, using his size and positioning to claim the rebound easily.
"Like I said," Chiba taunted as he passed the ball out to Tokiwa. "Too raw."
Tokiwa pushed the pace, calling out plays as he crossed half court. The Shinmaruko offense was organized, precise—every player knowing their role and executing it.
Kento Sawa, the shooting guard, came off a screen from Masaharu Choji. The pick was solid, properly set, and gave Sawa just enough space.
Yasuhara, trying his best to fight through the screen, got caught on Choji's massive frame. By the time he recovered, Sawa was already in his shooting motion.
SWISH.
6-4.
"Box out on screens!" Momoharu yelled, frustration creeping into his voice. "Don't get caught!"
But it was easier said than done. Yasuhara, Nabe, and Chucky were learning on the fly, and it showed. Every possession revealed another gap in their fundamentals.
Sora brought the ball up again, and this time he made his decision before crossing half court. If they were going to compete, he'd have to be more aggressive. He couldn't defer—not against this level of competition.
Tokiwa pressured him at the three-point line. Sora used a Himuro-style fake, a subtle shoulder movement suggesting a drive right.
Tokiwa didn't bite. His defensive discipline was too good.
Sora tried again, this time combining it with a hesitation dribble. Tokiwa stayed balanced, his feet moving but not committing.
He's seen these moves before, Sora realized. He's studied film, played against skilled guards. My fakes alone won't work.
So Sora added another element—speed.
He exploded left with his enhanced quickness, using his low center of gravity to change direction sharply. Tokiwa moved with him, but for just a moment, Sora had a half-step.
It was enough.
Sora rose up for the three—
Tokiwa recovered with impressive speed, contesting hard. His hand was right in Sora's face, disrupting his vision.
But Sora had practiced this. Thousands of shots with defenders in his face. Momoharu's contests during practice had prepared him for this moment.
He released anyway, trusting his form, trusting his practice.
The ball arced high—
SWISH.
9-4.
"Lucky shot," Tokiwa muttered, but there was less conviction in his voice this time.
Sora didn't respond. He just backpedaled on defense, his expression focused.
Three for three, he thought. But that one was harder. Much harder.
Tokiwa brought the ball up, and this time his face showed calculation. He'd seen enough. The small kid had skills—real skills. But there had to be a weakness.
He ran a pick-and-roll with Chiba, a classic play that had worked against countless teams. Chiba set a devastating screen on Sora—perfectly legal, but the size difference was comical.
Sora got completely hung up, and by the time he fought around it, Tokiwa had a clear driving lane.
Momoharu stepped up to help defend, reading the play correctly. But this left Chiba rolling to the basket, wide open.
Tokiwa delivered a perfect bounce pass. Chiba caught it in stride and threw down a thunderous dunk.
BOOM!
9-6.
The Shinmaruko crowd erupted. Their team was settling in now, their superior size and experience beginning to show.
"THAT'S HOW YOU DO IT, CHIBA!" someone shouted from the stands.
Chiba hung on the rim for a moment before dropping down. "This is what real basketball looks like, Hanazono. Size. Strength. Technique. Not just heart."
The game had found its rhythm now. Shinmaruko's initial shock had worn off, replaced by focused execution. Every possession revealed the gap between the two teams—not just in skill, but in experience, in coordination, in understanding.
Sora dribbled at the top of the key, trying to create something. Tokiwa's defense was suffocating now—he'd adjusted to Sora's speed, his fakes, his tendencies.
Sora called for a screen from Momoharu this time. The captain set a solid pick, and Sora used it to create just enough space for a mid-range pull-up.
The shot felt good leaving his hands—
But Chiba, reading the play perfectly, stepped up at the last second. His contest was perfect, his timing impeccable.
CLANG.
The ball hit iron and bounced long. Masaharu Choji grabbed the rebound easily, his size and positioning overwhelming Nabe, who barely got off the ground.
Shinmaruko pushed in transition. Tokiwa found Kento Sawa streaking down the wing. Sawa caught it, took one dribble, and rose up for a smooth jumper.
SWISH.
9-8.
The lead was down to one.
Madoka watched from the stands, her earlier joy replaced by worry. "They're catching up so fast..."
"Of course they are," one of the girls' team members said quietly. "They're a real team. Kuzuryu is... they're trying their best, but..."
She didn't finish. She didn't need to.
Sora pushed the ball up court, and for the first time, he felt the weight of the situation. Nine points felt like nothing now. Shinmaruko had found their rhythm, and every possession was a battle.
He looked at Momoharu, who was being fronted aggressively by Chiba in the post. He looked at Yasuhara, Nabe, and Chucky—all of them working hard on defense but clearly outmatched.
We need to slow this down, Sora thought. If we trade baskets, we lose. They're better than us in a half-court game.
He made his decision. If Shinmaruko wanted to play physical, organized basketball, Sora would have to match their intensity—but with his own weapons.
He crossed half-court, and instead of calling a play, he simply went to work.
A quick crossover. A hesitation. A step-back.
Tokiwa stayed with him, his defense textbook-perfect. But Sora had one advantage—his work ethic. Those thousand shots every day. Those countless hours perfecting his form.
He rose up, Tokiwa's hand in his face, and released.
The ball floated high—
SWISH.
12-8.
Sora had scored all twelve of Kuzuryu's points.
"Sora's keeping us in this," Momoharu said to himself, watching his teammate backpedal on defense.
But both of them knew the truth—one player couldn't carry a team forever. Not against opponents this good.
Shinmaruko would adjust. They always did.
The question was: could Kuzuryu adjust back?