Tokiwa brought the ball up methodically, his eyes scanning the Kuzuryu defense. He could see the cracks forming—Yasuhara was breathing hard, Nabe's defensive stance was getting sloppy, Chucky kept glancing at the scoreboard.
Only two players looked unfazed: the short first-year who'd scored all their points, and the blonde captain who was locked in a personal war with Chiba.
Time to exploit the weak links, Tokiwa thought.
He ran a simple pick-and-roll with Masaharu Choji, the power forward setting a bone-crushing screen on Sora. The impact sent Sora stumbling backward—legal, but the size difference was absurd.
By the time Sora recovered, Tokiwa had already turned the corner. Yasuhara stepped up to help defend, remembering Sora's teaching about rotating on defense.
But Yasuhara's inexperience showed. He left Kento Sawa wide open in the corner.
Tokiwa whipped a pass to Sawa—crisp, accurate, perfectly weighted.
Sawa caught it, set his feet, and released in one smooth motion.
SWISH.
12-10.
"ROTATION!" Momoharu screamed at Yasuhara. "You can't leave the shooter that open!"
"I-I was trying to help on the drive!" Yasuhara protested.
"Then you call the switch! You communicate!" Momoharu's frustration was showing. "We can't just be out here running around confused!"
Yasuhara's face reddened with embarrassment. In the stands, some of the Shinmaruko supporters were laughing openly at Kuzuryu's defensive breakdowns.
Sora brought the ball up, his mind racing. The game was slipping away. Every possession revealed another gap in their fundamentals, another weakness Shinmaruko could exploit.
We need to slow this down. Control the pace. Can't let them get comfortable.
He dribbled at the top, killing time on the shot clock. Tokiwa pressured him immediately, those long arms making every dribble dangerous.
Sora called for Momoharu to post up. The captain sealed Chiba on the low block, using his body to create position.
Sora lobbed the ball over Tokiwa's outstretched hands. Momoharu caught it cleanly, immediately feeling Chiba's weight pressing against his back.
"Come on, Hanazono," Chiba taunted. "Show me what you've got. Let's see if you're really as good as your reputation."
Momoharu backed down hard, using all his strength.
THUMP.
Chiba absorbed the contact, barely moving. His positioning was perfect, his balance impeccable.
Momoharu tried again, this time with even more force.
THUMP.
Still, Chiba held firm. The center's experience in post defense was evident—he knew exactly how to use his leverage, his strength, his body positioning.
He's just as strong as me, Momoharu realized, frustration building. But his technique is way better. He knows what I'm going to do before I do it.
With the shot clock winding down, Momoharu had no choice. He attempted a quick spin move, hoping to catch Chiba off-guard.
But Chiba had seen this coming. He stayed with Momoharu perfectly, his feet moving smoothly, his hands up to contest.
Momoharu went up for a short hook shot—
Chiba's hand was right there, his timing perfect. He didn't foul, didn't reach—he just used his length and positioning to alter the shot.
CLANG.
The ball hit the rim hard and bounced away. Choji grabbed the rebound easily, his size advantage over Nabe painfully obvious.
"Too easy!" Chiba called out, a grin spreading across his face. "Is that really all you've got, Hanazono? I heard you were some kind of sleeping giant. More like a sleeping kitten!"
Momoharu's jaw clenched so hard his teeth hurt. The trash talk was getting under his skin, and he knew it. Worse, it was backed up by reality—he couldn't score on Chiba.
Shinmaruko pushed the pace. Tokiwa found Hiroshi Kuchiki, the small forward, cutting to the basket. The pass was perfect, the timing impeccable.
Nabe tried to contest but was too late—Kuchiki laid it in easily.
12-12.
The game was tied.
Madoka's hands were clasped so tightly her knuckles were white. "They've completely caught up..."
"Kuzuryu's defense is falling apart," one of the girls observed. "They don't know how to rotate properly."
"And Hanazono-senpai can't score inside against Chiba," another added. "If Kurumatani can't carry them..."
She didn't finish. The implication was clear.
Sora dribbled the ball up, and for the first time since the game started, he felt the weight of carrying the team. Every eye was on him. Every possession depended on him creating something from nothing.
Tokiwa met him at half court, his defensive pressure suffocating.
"You're getting tired, aren't you?" Tokiwa said, his voice calm but cutting. "All those shots, all that running. How long can you keep this up, little bird?"
Sora didn't respond. He crossed over, trying to create space.
Tokiwa stayed with him, his lateral quickness matching Sora's enhanced speed.
Sora tried a step-back—
Tokiwa closed out perfectly, his hand right in Sora's face.
Sora had to pass. He found Chucky on the wing.
Chucky caught it awkwardly, immediately looking to pass it back. But Masaharu Choji was already on him, arms spread wide.
Chucky panicked and threw up a wild shot that didn't even hit the rim.
Air ball.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!" Momoharu roared.
"I-I panicked!" Chucky stammered.
Shinmaruko grabbed the rebound and pushed in transition. Their passing was crisp, their spacing perfect. Within seconds, they had a wide-open layup.
12-14.
Shinmaruko had their first lead of the game.
The Shinmaruko crowd was roaring now, sensing blood in the water. Their team had weathered the early storm and was now asserting dominance.
Sora brought the ball up, his expression calm despite the mounting pressure. He could feel his teammates starting to doubt, starting to panic.
Can't let them see me rattled. Have to stay confident.
He crossed half court and immediately went into attack mode. No more passing to teammates who weren't ready. No more trying to involve everyone.
If they were going to have a chance, he'd have to take over.
Sora attacked Tokiwa with a combination move—crossover, hesitation, explosive drive left. His enhanced speed gave him just enough separation.
Tokiwa recovered quickly, but Sora had already elevated for a floater—
Chiba rotated over, his massive frame casting a shadow over Sora's small form.
But Sora had practiced this. The Mirage Shot—Himuro's technique where you fake the release and shoot again.
His first motion was a fake. Chiba bit, jumping to contest.
Sora held the ball, waited for Chiba to start descending, then released the actual shot.
The ball floated over Chiba's outstretched hand—
SWISH.
14-14.
Sora landed and immediately backpedaled on defense. No celebration. No emotion. Just focus.
"Interesting," Chiba muttered, looking at Sora with new respect. "That was a nice move, short stuff."
Tokiwa brought the ball up, and this time he made his decision quickly. The game plan was clear now—attack Kuzuryu's weak defenders relentlessly.
He called for a specific play, gesturing to his teammates. They moved in synchronized precision, their months of practice together showing.
Kuchiki set a back screen for Sawa. Yasuhara, trying to fight through it, got completely lost. By the time he recovered, Sawa was already receiving the ball in the paint.
Sawa went up for the layup—
Momoharu rotated over from guarding Chiba, his defensive instincts firing. He jumped, contesting hard.
But this left Chiba wide open under the basket.
Sawa, showing his own basketball IQ, dumped the ball off to Chiba.
The center caught it and threw down a vicious dunk.
BOOM!
14-16.
Chiba hung on the rim, looking directly at Momoharu. "Thanks for the help defense, Hanazano. Really appreciate you leaving me wide open."
Momoharu said nothing, but his fists clenched. Every possession was a choice between evils—let them score or leave Chiba open. Either way, Shinmaruko scored.
Momoharu called timeout, his expression dark. The team gathered on the bench, their body language defeated.
"We're getting destroyed out there," Yasuhara said, dejection in his voice.
"They're too good," Nabe added. "Too organized. Too skilled."
"We can't stop them," Chucky finished.
"ENOUGH!" Momoharu's shout silenced them all. "You think I don't know they're better than us? You think I can't see we're outmatched?"
He looked at each of them. "But we didn't come here to roll over. We came here to fight. So yeah, you're going to get beat sometimes. You're going to make mistakes. But you keep fighting anyway."
He turned to Sora. "How many points do you have?"
"Fourteen," Sora replied quietly.
"All of our points," Momoharu stated. "You're keeping us in this by yourself. But you can't do it alone forever."
Sora nodded. "I know. That's why we need to adjust. Captain, stop trying to score on Chiba one-on-one."
"What?" Momoharu's pride flared. "I'm supposed to just give up?"
"No. You're supposed to be smart." Sora's eyes were intense. "Use your athleticism differently. Crash the boards. Run the floor. Dunk in transition. Stop letting him bait you into a post battle you can't win yet."
The words stung because they were true.
"And the rest of you," Sora continued, "I need you to do one thing perfectly. Defense. Just stay in front of your man. Make them work for every basket. Can you do that?"
Yasuhara, Nabe, and Chucky nodded, determination replacing their earlier defeat.
"Good. Now let's get back out there and show them we're not done yet."
As they broke the huddle, Madoka caught Sora's eye from the stands. She mouthed two words: You can do it.
Sora nodded, then turned back to the court.
The timeout ended. Both teams returned to their positions.
14-16, Shinmaruko leading.
But Sora's eyes burned with determination. This game was far from over.