A bead of sweat rolled down Hayato's temple as he looked toward the scoreboard. The gym was hot—stuffy. The scent of waxed flooring, faint shoe rubber, and sweat clung thick in the air. The crowd's cheers were still fading, replaced by a low murmur of anticipation.
"Let's win this, Tetsuo! I'm sorry I gave up back there, and thanks for waking me up," said Hayato as he fixed his headband once more, fingers trembling slightly as they tugged the cloth into place.
"I don't want anyone slacking off on defense, work hard, and let's stop Yokonan!!" shouted Yukio, his voice bouncing off the walls. Everyone, now pumped up, shouted, "Yes!!"
The slap of high-fives and the squeak of sneakers answered their rally. Tension thickened, pulsing with the rhythm of bouncing balls and shouts echoing through the gymnasium rafters.
"I wonder what Kogure was talking to that guy about? He doesn't normally just walk up to anyone like that—only if he knows them and personally respects them. Who is this guy?" Aoi asked herself, her curiosity piqued as her eyes narrowed on the unfamiliar figure.
"You can do it, Tetsuo. I believe in you," said Haruko, clenching her fist in determination. Her knuckles turned white as her breath caught, holding it in anticipation.
"Alright, this is it. It's time for you to show Yokonan that Toshigawa has grit. There's nothing more I can do with my strategy and planning. It's up to all of you now to fight until the sound of the final whistle," said Nanaho to herself, her arms crossed tight against her chest. Her nails dug slightly into her sleeves, her heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of the bouncing ball.
The referee's whistle sliced the air—sharp and cold. The players jolted into motion.
Kayano inbounded the basketball. The pass hit Kogure's palms with a sharp slap. The echo of it lingered for half a second before sneakers scattered across the court. Kogure pushed forward, body low, weaving past the first defender. His breathing was steady, focused, as he sliced through the paint. The heat from the gym wrapped around him like a damp towel.
He extended, flicked the ball up, and it hit the glass gently before falling through the net. Swish. Cheers erupted, brief but loud, a rush of applause that rolled through the bleachers.
On the next possession, Hayato sprinted past half-court, dribbling hard. The ball hit the floor with a deep thud, and his feet skidded slightly as he stopped near the elbow. He passed to Takahiro, who caught it in rhythm, rose, and let it fly.
The ball arced cleanly through the air and snapped through the net.
"Nice one, Takahiro!" Yukio shouted as he pivoted and hustled back on defense, his shoes squealing as he changed direction.
The energy in the building was surging again, like a coiled spring.
After receiving the ball off an inbound, Kayano dribbled between his legs—tap-tap—each bounce crisp, tight to the floor. He exploded past Hayato, leaving him trailing for half a second. The crowd gasped. He fired the ball to Ryuu in the post.
Ryuu caught it with a heavy thump, then powered toward the hoop. Takahiro stepped late. Ryuu's body crashed forward. Thud. The layup dropped in clean.
On the next possession, Tetsuo caught the inbounds. The ball thudded against the hardwood as he dribbled. His eyes scanned ahead.
Manabu stepped up to guard him, but before they could square off properly—
"Stand down, Manabu, this one's mine! Hate to break it to you, but you're no match for him now."
Kogure's voice cut through the gym like a clean blade. He shoved past Manabu, setting his stance. Knees bent. Fingers splayed. Eyes locked on Tetsuo.
Manabu froze, muscles stiff.
"No way… Did Kogure, of all people, just say I'm not good enough?" he thought, skin prickling.
"Kogure looks happy. That's not a look you see from him too often. He's definitely having fun," Coach Arimoto observed, nodding, arms crossed with a tight smile.
Tetsuo crossed the ball low—tap-tap—but Kogure didn't bite. He shuffled, tracking. Tetsuo spun, but Kogure mirrored him. Squeaks from their shoes filled the space between their breath.
Takahiro suddenly appeared, chest colliding into Kogure's side—screen. Tetsuo stepped back and rose for the shot.
Kogure fought through it, leaping late, arms stretching—
But the ball was already in the air. A perfect arc.
Swish.
"I see… the release on that one was slightly faster," Kogure muttered, gaze following the spinning ball even after it hit the floor.
"Whoa, I can't believe it, Kogure is having a hard time guarding that number eleven. He must be really good for that to happen," said a student watching the game, wide-eyed.
"Something feels weird about this match. It's like I've seen this before… It somehow feels like this isn't the first time those two have clashed. Why does this feeling seem so familiar?" Aoi wondered, fingers unconsciously tightening over her chest, where her heart pounded with a strange rhythm.
Next play. In a flash, Kayano threaded the ball to Kogure, who spun on Yukio. His heel squealed on the floor as he planted. Kogure rose, body fully extended—and dunked.
The rim rattled under the force. CLANG.
"Nice one, Kogure, that was amazing!" a girl shouted from the crowd, palms cupped around her mouth, bouncing with excitement.
"Noboru, catch!!" shouted Hayato, wasting no time. The ball hit Noboru's chest hard.
"Right, I got it!" he replied, almost stumbling, but he righted himself and lunged forward for a layup.
But Manabu was already airborne.
"No, you don't," Manabu thought as he flung his arm down—
CRACK!
His forearm hit Noboru's face. Noboru stumbled back. A wet, smacking sound echoed in the gym.
"Gah!!" Noboru screamed as he crumpled to the ground, holding his nose. Sweat and pain mixed on his skin.
The whistle blared.
"Pushing foul, white number nine," the referee called out.
"God dammit!" Manabu cursed, breathing heavily, hands curled into fists.
"How dare you hit me in the face, you son of a—" Noboru started, blood rushing to his face as he tried to start a fight.
"Noboru, calm down, you scored, so it's all good."
"Oh, you're right, Captain. I did score," Noboru said with a relieved grin. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Finally, I have more points than that amateur Shino!" he thought smugly.
"Now, all you have to do is score the free throw," Yukio encouraged him.
"Free throw? But I suck at those!" Noboru replied nervously.
"Oh right, I didn't teach him how to shoot free throws... that was dumb," Nanaho thought, exasperated, watching with a twitch in her brow.
"Don't worry. Just throw the ball right there on the rim. I'll get the rebound and score. We need to close the gap now so that it doesn't cost us in the fourth quarter," Yukio whispered, his voice calm and low.
"Okay, I'll do just that. Let's win the game," Noboru said with renewed resolve.
"Everyone, get ready to collect the rebound!" Kayano shouted.
"Something tells me that Yukio isn't going to settle for just one point," Kogure thought, planting his feet and bracing for impact.
Noboru stepped up. He took a deep breath. His chest rose. The gym was silent now—just the soft hum of lights and faint squeaking from players shifting on the lane.
Sweat dripped off his chin. His hands were clammy. He adjusted his grip and then—like a baseball pitch—threw it with a sharp, awkward motion.
BOOM. It hit the backboard and bounced hard off the rim.
Both Yukio and Ryuu launched.
"There's no way you're going to out-rebound me, number seven!!" shouted Ryuu.
But Yukio was already airborne.
"I'm carrying all of our team's hopes and dreams on my shoulders. If you think I'll lose to you, you're surely mistaken," he declared.
Time slowed.
Their bodies collided mid-air, but Yukio twisted, grabbed the ball cleanly.
Sweat flew off his arms like mist as he turned—
"And I'm returning the favor. No way I'm going to let you dunk on me and get away with it!" Yukio roared.
He rose even higher, both hands on the ball.
CRACK.
His feet left the ground completely. The entire gym vibrated when he smashed the ball through the hoop. The backboard quivered. The rim screamed under the pressure.
Ryuu hit the floor, arms splayed, too stunned to even catch himself. Yukio landed with a jolt, knees flexing, sweat dripping off his jawline like rainwater from a rooftop. The ball bounced once—thud—before rolling away. His chest heaved.
For half a second, silence.
Then—
BOOM.
The crowd exploded.
Yokonan's supporters were on their feet, clapping for Toshigawa.
"Nice one, number seven! You're truly a phenomenal player!" a Yokonan student yelled, hands cupped as the gym vibrated with applause.
"Even though Kogure is playing, Toshigawa still seems to have a chance. They are truly something," Aoi thought.
"Looks like Yukio is too much for Ryuu to handle. Maybe I should mark him, but if I do, we'll definitely lose," Kogure mused, glancing at Tetsuo and smiling with quiet pride.
The buzzer sounded again—end of the third.
The crowd buzzed with energy.
On Yokonan's bench, Ryuu's chest heaved as he stormed toward the chairs and flung one across the court. CLANG. It skidded and toppled, metal scraping tile.
He slumped onto the bench, face twisted in rage.
"Toshigawa's team is quite strong, aren't they?" Eiji remarked, trying to keep things light.
"Shut your mouth, Eiji!!" Ryuu snarled, his voice hoarse. Sweat dripped from his chin.
"It's not that they're strong, it's just that they exploited our weaknesses and mistakes and scored from every one of them. Their coach isn't your average high school girl—she's a genius," Coach Arimoto said, eyes never leaving Nanaho across the court.
"If only Keichiro were here, we wouldn't have trouble with that number seven in our post," Eiji said, voice almost a whisper.
Ryuu's head snapped around.
"So you're saying I'm the problem now, huh?" he spat, rising again, fury blazing.
"No, I didn't say that! They're just so good—that's why," Eiji said quickly, recoiling.