However
Koshino had already scooped up the ball and was charging toward the frontcourt like an arrow loosed from a bow.
"Fast break!"
Ryonan's counterattack exploded forward at astonishing speed.
Koshino pushed the ball up the floor, and ahead of him stretched a wide-open lane—like a highway leading straight to the basket.
One layup, and the momentum would swing right back!
"Don't think you're getting away!"
At that moment, a flash of lightning streaked past Akagi.
Miyagi Ryota.
Shohoku's assault captain unleashed a burst of speed so shocking it made people doubt their eyes.
His legs pumped like twin V8 engines, sneakers screeching sharply against the hardwood.
As he blew past Sakuragi—who was still frozen in place—
Miyagi couldn't help but snap his head sideways and curse:
"You damn idiot!"
"Whoosh!"
Before the words even faded, he had already become an afterimage, instantly widening the gap.
The entire arena stared in disbelief.
"So fast!"
On the sidelines, Aida Hikoichi clutched his pen, mouth hanging open wide enough to fit a lightbulb.
"That Miyagi Ryota… what kind of explosive power is that?!"
"He's like a cheetah!"
The situation on court shifted in an instant.
Koshino dribbled into the three-point line. Not seeing any defenders in his peripheral vision, his confidence surged.
"This one's in the bag!"
Under the basket, Uozumi Jun saw everything clearly—his pupils shrank sharply.
That small Shohoku No. 7…
…was closing in behind Koshino at terrifying speed, like a reaper coming to claim a life.
"Koshino! Watch your back!"
Uozumi's roar echoed through the gym.
But by then, the arrow had already left the bow—Koshino had begun his layup steps.
One step.
Two steps.
Jump!
He lifted the ball with both hands, preparing a safe, textbook bank layup.
And just as the ball was about to leave his fingertips—
A gust of wind struck from behind his head.
Danger.
Miyagi Ryota leapt from behind.
Though only 168 cm tall, in that moment he seemed to soar higher than anyone.
Flames burned in his eyes.
"Get that—DOWN!"
In midair, he fully extended his body and swung his right hand down with brutal force.
"PAH!!!"
Crisp. Loud. Violent.
The ball was swatted away the instant it left Koshino's fingertips.
A chase-down block!
"WHOA!!"
The entire crowd erupted in shock.
Koshino landed, staring blankly at the ball rolling away, unable to process what had just happened.
In the stands, Fujima Kenji's usually calm expression flickered with surprise.
"That No. 7…"
"With that height, to pull off a block of this quality…"
"His vertical is insane—and his timing is perfect. He's dangerous."
"None of Shohoku's players are simple."
…
On the court.
The swatted ball didn't go out of bounds. Instead, it bounced high and dropped near the free-throw line.
"It's still live!"
Miyagi didn't even glance at Koshino after landing. He spun around and shouted:
"Get the ball!"
Closest to the landing spot were Sakuragi Hanamichi—who had just snapped out of his daze—and Fukuda Kicchou.
Both locked onto that orange sphere at the same time.
"It's mine!"
Fukuda roared, sprinting forward with long strides.
"In your dreams, curly-head!"
Sakuragi's eyes went red with urgency.
The humiliation of that turnover had to be washed clean!
If he didn't get this ball, that gorilla would probably turn him into sashimi later!
"This is MY ball!"
Throwing all caution aside, Sakuragi launched himself like a red torpedo straight at the ball.
The posture—
It looked less like a dive and more like he was throwing himself onto a grenade.
"BAM!"
His chest slammed hard onto the ball.
The impact forced a muffled grunt out of him.
"Got it!"
On the Shohoku bench, Kogure pumped his fist excitedly.
"Nice one, Sakuragi!"
However...
In the very next second, everything took a turn.
Because he'd dived too hard, Sakuragi didn't stop.
Carried by inertia, he slid forward across the floor, pressing down on the ball like a curling stone.
"SKRRR"
The sound of rubber scraping against wood was painfully sharp.
Sakuragi slid forward a considerable distance.
And during that slide—
Because of his awkward posture, the ball that had been pinned to his chest slowly rolled downward along his torso.
Lower…
Lower…
Until..
Sakuragi came to a stop.
Face-down.
And that orange basketball…
"Roll, roll…"
…slowly rolled out from beneath his crotch.
Silence.
A deathly, suffocating silence.
Thousands of eyes in the arena were now fixed on that newly "liberated" basketball.
It spun a few times on the floor—
…and finally came to a stop at Mitsui Hisashi's feet.
Mitsui: "…"
He looked down at the ball.
Then up at Sakuragi, who was still lying there in pain.
The hand he'd been about to use to pick up the ball froze midair.
Even his fingers trembled.
That handsome face slowly twisted into an indescribable expression of disgust—
as if he'd just seen something freshly… unspeakable.
It wasn't just Mitsui.
Nearby Ryonan players—Koshino, Ikegami—even the usually expressionless Rukawa Kaede
all subconsciously took half a step back.
Every single face showed the exact same emotion.
A strange mix of shock, revulsion… and pity.
As if the basketball were now emitting some kind of toxic green gas.
"This ball…"
Koshino covered his nose. There was no actual smell, but psychologically—
this ball was no longer clean.
On the Shohoku bench.
Makino Juro was drinking water. The moment he saw this—
"PFFT!"
He sprayed it everywhere like a human fountain.
"Cough—cough—!"
Laughing so hard he slapped his thigh, tears streamed down his face.
"What kind of skill is this?!"
"A biochemical weapon attack?!"
"If he shoots that thing, who's gonna defend it?! It comes with an AoE repel buff!"
Makino Juro wiped his mouth, still cracking up.
Looking at the utterly awkward scene on court, his stomach hurt from laughing.
…
On the court.
Sakuragi Hanamichi still lay there, his face flushed a deep liver-red.
Pain.
Damn, it hurt.
That friction just now… and where the ball rolled…
That kind of sensation—
Only men would understand.
But he couldn't cry out.
He was a genius.
And geniuses didn't lose face like this.
"What are you standing around for?!"
A thunderous roar shattered the strange silence.
Under the basket, Akagi Takenori stood with veins bulging on his forehead, roaring at Mitsui:
"Pick it up already! The game hasn't stopped!"
Mitsui's mouth twitched.
He stared at the ball by his feet, going through an intense internal struggle—
as if facing the greatest decision of his life.
"Damn it…"
"Why do I have to be the one to deal with this…"
At that moment, the Ryonan players also snapped back to their senses.
Mitsui reacted quickly—forcing himself to suppress his disgust as he snatched the ball amid their pressure.
Meanwhile, Sakuragi was still curled up on the floor like a boiled shrimp.
Miyagi Ryota sighed, then walked over and crouched down.
"Hey, Sakuragi."
He reached out and patted his shoulder, his tone unusually gentle.
"You okay?"
Sakuragi trembled slightly.
He slowly lifted his head, wearing a smile uglier than crying, cold sweat dripping from his chin.
"I…"
His voice shook, clinging to the last shred of pride:
"I… I'm fine."
"This genius… is indestructible…"
END OF CHAPTER
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