Sora brought the ball up after the timeout, his expression completely focused. The early excitement had faded, replaced by cold calculation. This wasn't a game anymore—it was a test of will.
Tokiwa met him at half court, defensive stance perfect, those long arms ready to contest everything.
But Sora had made his decision during the timeout. If his teammates weren't ready to score, he'd have to carry the offense entirely. Not because he wanted to, but because there was no other choice.
He attacked immediately, no hesitation. A quick crossover to test Tokiwa's balance, then a pull-back to create space.
Tokiwa stayed disciplined, not biting on the fakes.
Sora rose up anyway, trusting his form.
SWISH.
16-16.
The crowd murmured. Every shot this kid took seemed to go in, no matter the defense.
"Lucky," Tokiwa muttered, but there was less conviction now.
Tokiwa brought the ball up, his mind working. The short first-year was keeping them in the game single-handedly, but that couldn't last forever. Nobody could sustain that kind of offensive load.
He called for a specific play, one designed to exploit Kuzuryu's weakest defender.
The ball swung to Kuchiki, who immediately attacked Nabe. The size and skill difference was obvious—Kuchiki used a simple jab step and Nabe was already off-balance.
Kuchiki drove past him easily, going straight to the rim—
Momoharu rotated over from Chiba, his defensive instincts sharp. He jumped to contest, his timing good.
But Kuchiki, seeing the help defense coming, passed to the now-open Chiba under the basket.
Chiba caught it and went up for the dunk—
The ball rattled out.
Momoharu had boxed out perfectly this time, learning from the timeout discussion. He grabbed the rebound with both hands, securing it tightly.
"PUSH!" Sora shouted, already sprinting up court.
Momoharu whipped the outlet pass ahead. Sora caught it in stride, his enhanced speed carrying him past the backpedaling Shinmaruko defenders.
Tokiwa was fast, closing the gap, but not fast enough.
Sora went up for the layup—
Tokiwa's hand came from behind, reaching for the block—
Sora adjusted mid-air, switching the ball to his left hand, finishing on the other side of the rim with a smooth reverse layup.
18-16.
"YES!" Yasuhara pumped his fist from the bench.
Madoka was on her feet in the stands. "He's incredible..."
The Shinmaruko coach called out from the sideline, "SETTLE DOWN! RUN THE OFFENSE!"
Tokiwa nodded, slowing the pace. They'd gotten caught up in Kuzuryu's frantic energy. Time to reassert control.
He ran a deliberate pick-and-roll with Chiba. The screen was devastating—Sora got completely wiped out, legal but brutal.
Momoharu stepped up to help, reading the play.
But this time, Tokiwa wasn't looking to score. He whipped a pass to Choji in the corner—the power forward they'd been ignoring.
Choji caught it, set his feet, and released.
The shot felt good—
CLANG.
Rim out.
The rebound came long. Yasuhara and Kuchiki both went up for it—
Yasuhara, using every bit of his street-fighting mentality, wrestled the ball away. It wasn't pretty, but he secured it.
"NICE BOARD!" Momoharu shouted.
Yasuhara looked shocked that he'd actually gotten it, then quickly passed to Sora before Kuchiki could strip him.
Sora dribbled up, and for the first time, he felt something shift. His teammates were fighting harder, competing more fiercely. The timeout adjustments were working—not perfectly, but enough.
He crossed half court and immediately attacked. No more overthinking. No more trying to be perfect.
Just basketball.
He drove right, using a Himuro-style fake to make Tokiwa hesitate for just a fraction of a second.
That fraction was enough.
Sora elevated for a mid-range jumper—
Tokiwa recovered, contesting hard, his hand right in Sora's face—
But Sora had taken this shot a thousand times with Momoharu in his face during practice. The contest didn't matter anymore.
SWISH.
20-16.
Kuzuryu had pushed the lead back to four.
Chiba called out to his teammates, "Tighten up! They're gaining confidence!"
Tokiwa brought the ball up, his expression now completely serious. The game had evolved. What started as a joke—a practice match against a team of delinquents—was now a real competition.
He ran the offense patiently, looking for the right shot. The ball swung from side to side, testing Kuzuryu's defense.
Finally, he found his opportunity. Sawa came off a screen, and Chucky—still learning to navigate picks—got caught.
Tokiwa hit Sawa with a perfect pass.
Sawa rose up for the three—
Momoharu, reading the play late, sprinted over from the paint. His athletic ability was on full display as he closed the distance impossibly fast and jumped to contest—
Sawa released anyway.
The ball arced high—
SWISH.
20-19.
"THERE WE GO!" the Shinmaruko bench erupted.
Their ace had answered. The lead was back to one.
Sora brought the ball up, and he could feel the pressure mounting. Every made basket by Shinmaruko chipped away at their lead, their confidence, their energy.
He crossed half court and immediately felt Tokiwa's defensive intensity increase another level. The point guard was no longer just defending—he was hunting.
Sora tried to create space with a series of dribble moves, but Tokiwa matched him step for step. Those long arms, that quick lateral movement—it was suffocating.
I need help, Sora realized. Can't do this alone every possession.
He called for a screen from Momoharu. The captain set a solid pick, and Sora used it to get separation.
But Shinmaruko was ready now. Chiba stepped up immediately, cutting off Sora's drive.
Sora had no choice—he passed to Momoharu, who'd rolled to the basket after setting the screen.
Momoharu caught it with Chiba scrambling to recover. For just a moment, he was open.
Don't try to post up, Momoharu remembered Sora's advice. Use your athleticism.
He didn't hesitate. He gathered and exploded upward, going for the dunk—
Chiba recovered just in time, jumping to contest—
The two met in mid-air, their collision creating a loud SMACK as Chiba's hand hit the ball.
The ball deflected, bouncing off the rim—
But Momoharu, showing his superior hang time, tipped it back up while still in the air.
The ball kissed the backboard and dropped through.
22-19.
Momoharu landed and immediately got in Chiba's face. "How's that for raw talent?!"
Chiba's eyes narrowed. "You got lucky."
"Luck? That's called athleticism." Momoharu grinned fiercely. "Something your technique can't teach."
For the first time, Chiba didn't have a comeback. That play had been pure athletic ability—something even he had to respect.
The Shinmaruko coach gathered his team, his expression serious.
"What's happening out there?" he demanded. "We're supposed to be dominating them!"
"Coach," Tokiwa said, wiping sweat from his face, "that #4... Kurumatani. He's not normal. He's scoring at will. I can't stop him."
"Then double-team him!"
"We tried. He's finding the open man when we do."
The coach looked at his clipboard, then at Chiba. "Can you contain their captain?"
"His post game is weak," Chiba admitted, "but his athleticism is elite. He's learning to use it better. If he stops trying to match my technique and just plays to his strengths..."
The implication was clear—this was getting harder.
"Alright," the coach decided. "New strategy. Tokiwa, you stay on Kurumatani. Don't help off him. Everyone else, pressure their role players. Make someone other than those two beat us."
----
Sora sat down heavily, his breathing labored. The adrenaline was wearing off, and he could feel the fatigue creeping in.
Momoharu noticed. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Sora said, though his enhanced stamina was the only reason he wasn't completely gassed. "Just... this is harder than I thought."
"How many points do you have now?"
Sora did the math. "Eighteen."
"Out of twenty-two total." Momoharu's expression was concerned. "You're carrying us completely."
"That's fine. I can handle it—"
"Can you?" Momoharu's eyes were serious. "We're not even at the end of the first quarter. You keep this pace, you'll collapse before halftime."
Sora wanted to argue, but he knew Momoharu was right. His stamina was enhanced, yes, but not infinite. And Shinmaruko would adjust—they were adjusting right now.
"Then we need the others to step up," Sora said. "Even just a little. Enough to keep Shinmaruko honest."
Momoharu looked at their bench—Yasuhara, Nabe, Chucky. All of them trying their best, but clearly outmatched.
"They're doing everything we asked," Momoharu said quietly. "They're just not good enough yet."
The timeout ended. Both teams returned to the court.
22-19, Kuzuryu leading by three.
But the game was far from over, and both teams knew it.
Sora stood at the free-throw line during the inbound, his chest heaving, his legs burning.
Mom, he thought, I know you said I have wings. But these guys are trying to clip them before I can fly.
The referee handed the ball to Shinmaruko for the inbound.
Sora took his defensive stance, his eyes locked on Tokiwa.
I won't let them, he decided. No matter how tired I get. No matter how hard they defend. I won't stop flying.
The game continued.