The game resumed.
Because of Sakuragi Hanamichi's "god-tier" traveling violation, possession returned to Kainan.
Maki Shinichi brought the ball up the court.
His expression was eerily calm, as if the earlier chaos meant nothing to him—like it had never even happened.
This… was the composure of a king.
At the sidelines, Aida Yayoi pushed up her glasses, her pen flying across her notebook.
"Still man-to-man defense from Shohoku…"
"Akagi on Takasago, Mitsui on Jin…"
"That leaves…"
Her gaze shifted to Miyagi Ryota, who was facing Maki head-on. Her brows furrowed slightly.
"Miyagi against Maki."
"There's a full 16-centimeter height gap—not to mention the difference in strength."
"And…"
She glanced toward Shohoku's bench—at number 16.
"Juro still hasn't moved."
"Keeping your true ace on the bench… what exactly is Coach Anzai planning?"
"Can Miyagi really hold off the 'Emperor Maki' on his own?"
On the court.
Maki Shinichi dribbled to just beyond the three-point line.
Facing the fully focused Miyagi, he didn't drive.
Before Miyagi could even step up—
Maki rose and lifted the ball with both hands.
Ignoring the defense, he passed straight over Miyagi's head!
A high lob pass!
Blatant height abuse!
Miyagi leapt desperately to intercept—but his fingertips were a galaxy away from the ball.
All he could do was watch it sail overhead.
"Damn it!" Miyagi ground his teeth.
From the press row, reporter Nakamura exclaimed:
"As expected! Maki uses his height advantage to go right over him!"
"Kainan's style—simple, brutal, unstoppable!"
The ball dropped perfectly into the hands of Takasago Kazuma in the paint.
Takasago caught it, backing into Akagi.
Though he lacked Akagi's raw power, his fundamentals were solid—an experienced veteran.
A quick feint.
A shift in weight.
Turn—jump!
"Got it!"
"First point belongs to Kainan!"
Takasago flicked his wrist with confidence.
But...
He underestimated Akagi Takenori's obsession with protecting the paint.
The instant the ball left his hand—
A massive shadow rose like it was swallowing the sky.
Akagi soared upward like an immovable mountain.
Even with his balance already broken, he forced a second jump with sheer core strength.
"IN YOUR DREAMS!!!"
His roar thundered like a bolt from the heavens.
That massive palm—
Crashed into the ball with overwhelming force.
PA!!!
The block exploded louder than Maki's earlier one—ten times louder!
The basketball was sent flying out of the paint like a cannonball, rocketing toward midcourt.
A Super Flyswatter!!!
"Nice!!!"
The Shohoku bench exploded to their feet.
The Sakuragi Army threw their arms up, screaming:
"Gorilla's on fire!!!"
Even Makino Juro, who had been "lying flat" on the bench, couldn't help but shout:
"Whoa, the gorilla's unleashed."
"Guess those bananas weren't for nothing—that was huge."
Akagi landed without celebrating. His eyes flashed as he roared:
"Fast break!"
That shout was the bugle call for charge.
Miyagi Ryota, already lurking on the perimeter, burst forward like a hunting cheetah and snatched the ball.
"Counterattack!!!"
The arena ignited instantly.
"Akagi's insane! He blocked that?!"
"Shohoku's fast break is here!"
"This is their signature whirlwind offense!"
Miyagi sprinted down the court, dribbling so fast it left afterimages.
The squeal of sneakers against the floor was sharp and piercing.
But....
Just past midcourt.
A deep green figure appeared again, cutting him off.
Maki Shinichi.
This guy's transition defense… completely defied logic.
"I told you—this path is closed."
Maki lowered his stance, arms spread wide.
Like an iron wall, sealing off every route.
That suffocating pressure engulfed Miyagi once more.
If it were before, Miyagi might have passed.
Or slowed down to reset.
But today—
Miyagi stopped.
Two steps beyond the three-point line, he dribbled while staring straight at Maki.
Then...
The corner of his mouth slowly curled into a cocky, rebellious grin.
That was the confidence of Lightning Speed.
"Hey, Maki."
Between his legs—the dribble quickened.
The ball pounded the floor like a storm of raindrops.
"You think you've got me figured out?"
Maki's gaze sharpened instinctively. His muscles tensed.
He could feel it.
The aura of the guy in front of him—
Had changed.
Sharper.
More dangerous.
Like a dagger drawn from its sheath.
Miyagi took a deep breath.
Flashes of those hellish training sessions filled his mind.
Makino Juro's lazy figure, sipping cola, saying:
"Your speed's good, Miyagi—but it's not enough."
"True speed isn't about running fast…"
"It's about making your opponent's eyes… unable to keep up with your body."
Miyagi's eyes snapped open—light bursting within them.
"Can you keep up with me?"
"King?"
Before the words even faded—
Miyagi moved.
No feints.
No tricks.
Just pure, extreme—
Explosive acceleration!
BANG!
The ball slammed the floor.
Miyagi's body skimmed low, flying like lightning—
Blowing past Maki on the right!
Too fast!
So fast that even a top-tier defender like Maki couldn't react in time.
His vision blurred—wind slashed across his face.
He instinctively reached out—
But caught nothing but air.
"What?!"
Shock exploded in Maki's heart as he spun around.
Miyagi was already behind him—leaving him in the dust!
"He… got past him?!"
"Miyagi just blew by Maki head-on?!"
"No way?!"
The entire arena erupted.
Every spectator's eyes widened, their scalps tingling.
The "Emperor" of Kanagawa.
The number one point guard—
Had just been beaten… purely by speed?!
Miyagi shot forward like a cannonball.
Charging deep into Kainan's territory with unstoppable momentum.
"Don't get cocky!"
Jin Soichiro, despite his gentle appearance, had razor-sharp defensive instincts.
He abandoned the perimeter instantly, sliding over to help.
Front—Jin.
Behind—pursuers closing in.
Yet a sly grin appeared on Miyagi's face.
"Who said I'm doing this alone?"
At full speed, his wrist flicked.
The basketball slipped past Jin's waist like a magic trick—
Shooting toward the left 45-degree angle.
A vacuum zone.
Mitsui Hisashi was already there.
Two full steps beyond the three-point line.
"This spot…?"
Jin turned back in shock after missing the interception.
"Isn't that too far?!"
That was outside any normal shooter's range!
Mitsui caught the ball.
Raised it above his head.
Knees bent slightly.
Every movement was smooth, refined—like a textbook demonstration honed through countless repetitions.
He exhaled softly.
"Ha…"
He jumped.
"Don't underestimate me!"
"This is my range now!"
As the ball left his fingertips, the feel told him everything.
It was in.
Before the ball even reached its peak, Mitsui was already lifting his fist to celebrate.
But—
The expected swish never came.
The instant the ball left his hand—
A purple-gold figure burst out from the blindside like a hunting leopard.
No one even saw where he came from.
"What?!"
END OF CHAPTER
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