Ryota Miyagi had already taken off toward the frontcourt. Hearing the incoming pass, he turned his head—
The basketball bounced perfectly in front of him, so smooth he didn't even need to adjust.
"Nice pass!"
Catching it in stride, Miyagi exploded forward, slicing into Ryonan's territory like a bolt of lightning.
"Get back! Get back on defense!"
On the sidelines, Coach Taoka Moichi was practically hopping in panic.
But Shohoku's fast break was like a burst dam—unstoppable.
Miyagi pushed up to the three-point line. Facing Uekusa's defense, he gave a subtle eye fake—
but his wrist flicked backward.
A no-look pass!
The ball flew behind him, landing cleanly in the hands of the trailing Rukawa Kaede.
Snap!
Rukawa caught it.
Now, only one line of defense remained before him.
Sendoh Akira.
One-on-one, near the free-throw line.
Ace versus ace.
For a split second, the air seemed to freeze.
"Come."
Sendoh lowered his center of gravity, eyes sharp.
That ever-smiling face was now completely serious.
Rukawa didn't slow down.
His gaze burned with pure competitive fire.
"Move."
Before the word even finished—
Rukawa dribbled left, his body leaning so low it was almost scraping the floor, like he was drifting across it.
Sendoh slid laterally to cut him off.
But in that instant—
Rukawa snapped his body back!
A lightning-fast crossover!
The ball switched from left to right—
SCREECH!
His sneakers screamed against the hardwood as he cut past Sendoh's right side like a blade.
"So fast!"
Sendoh's eyes widened as he tried to recover—
But his balance had already been broken by the fake.
He was beaten.
Rukawa drove into the paint—wide open ahead.
He took off on one foot, his body stretching in midair like a drawn longbow.
His black hair whipped wildly.
Right hand gripping the ball high above his head—
And for that instant, time seemed to pause just for him.
"BOOM!"
A tomahawk dunk!
The ball was smashed violently through the hoop, the rim letting out a strained groan as if begging for mercy.
After landing, Rukawa didn't even glance at the basket.
He turned, eyes cold as he swept them across Sendoh, then casually wiped the sweat from his forehead.
That simple motion—
was devastatingly cool.
"AAAAAHHH!! RUKAWA KAede!!"
"RUKAWA! RUKAWA! RUKAWA!"
The Rukawa fan club in the stands instantly erupted, their screams reaching deafening levels, nearly lifting the roof off the arena.
The scoreboard updated:
Shohoku 4 : 6 Ryonan.
The gap Ryonan had built in the paint while Akagi was injured was already shrinking.
"Nice one, Rukawa!"
Miyagi rushed over for a high-five—
Only for Rukawa to give a cool nod and turn to run back on defense.
Miyagi's hand froze midair, his mouth twitching.
"That cocky bastard… I seriously wanna punch him."
Ryonan's bench.
Coach Taoka Moichi's face looked like he had just swallowed a dead fly.
"Damn it…"
"That Makino Juro… what kind of monster is he?"
His eyes locked onto Juro, who was lazily jogging back on defense.
That one-handed rebound earlier—
still haunted him like a nightmare.
He had thought that with Akagi off the court, Shohoku's interior would collapse.
But now…
That so-called "lazy" substitute was the real demon of the paint.
"Uozumi!"
"What are you doing?!"
"You're Ryonan's captain! Don't get scared by that short guy!"
"Use your strength! Crush him!"
"Stop acting like a wimp!"
Taoka roared from the sidelines.
On the court.
Uozumi Jun was breathing heavily, veins bulging on his forehead like an enraged bull.
Humiliation.
Unprecedented humiliation.
Not only had his offense been shut down—
Even his proudest strength, rebounding, had been snatched right off his head like picking fruit.
Looking at Makino Juro's indifferent expression, Uozumi felt like his lungs were about to explode.
"You bastard…"
"Don't look down on me!"
Ryonan attacked again.
This time, Uozumi demanded the ball in the low post.
He backed into Makino Juro, his massive body like a mountain of flesh radiating oppressive force.
"Give it to me!"
he roared at Sendoh.
Sendoh hesitated—but still fed the ball inside.
After all, he was the captain. He needed to regain his footing, or his mentality would crumble.
Uozumi caught it.
"DIE!!"
With a beast-like roar, he gathered all his strength into his back and slammed backward.
This time, he used everything he had.
Even Akagi would have been forced back half a step.
But—
THUD!
A dull impact.
Uozumi felt like he had crashed into ancient granite.
Makino Juro behind him..
didn't move.
Not even a tremor.
Worse—
The rebound force traveled back through his body, making his chest go numb, his organs trembling.
"How is that possible?!"
Uozumi's eyes nearly popped out.
Was this guy filled with lead?!
"Hey."
"You giving me a massage?"
"If you haven't eaten, go grab a banana before coming back, Monkey Boss."
Makino Juro's lazy voice drifted from behind him.
"What did you say?!"
Uozumi completely snapped.
He abandoned the post-up, forcibly turned around, gripping the ball with both hands—
trying to use his height advantage to dunk over him.
"GET OUT OF MY WAY!!"
Uozumi leapt high, his massive shadow swallowing Makino Juro whole.
"Careful! Don't foul!" Koshino shouted from the sidelines.
Juro looked up.
At that moment...
his eyes turned cold.
Absolute Defense.
That lazy aura vanished instantly.
In its place—
a suffocating pressure.
Like a slumbering beast opening its violet vertical pupils… gazing down upon prey.
Juro jumped.
Late—but faster.
So fast it looked like teleportation.
Just as the ball in Uozumi's hands was about to slam into the rim—
A hand appeared.
Like a wall of despair.
"I already told you…"
Juro's voice echoed in the air—cold, devoid of emotion.
"You're annoying."
"BANG!!!"
A thunderous explosion rang out across the court.
Makino Juro's palm smashed into the ball—
The sheer force pinned Uozumi and the ball down together!
A volleyball-style block!
"BOOM!"
Uozumi's massive body lost balance and crashed hard onto the floor, the impact shaking the court.
Meanwhile, Juro landed lightly, looking down at him from above.
He dusted off his hands, as if brushing away dirt, his tone casual—like commenting on the weather:
"You want to dunk on me?"
Tilting his head, he said:
"Go practice for another hundred years."
"As long as I'm here—"
"This place is a no-fly zone."
"Got it?"
Shohoku's paint.
now felt like it was wrapped in a high-voltage electric net.
SMACK!
A sharp crack echoed.
Ryonan forward Ikegami Ryoji tried to sneak in with a backdoor cut.
The ball had barely left his hands—
when a lazy-looking hand swatted it out of bounds.
Like killing a mosquito.
"...That's five."
END OF CHAPTER
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