After Nanaho called a timeout, everyone on Toshigawa's basketball team sat down on the bench, their bodies heaving with exhaustion. The sharp scent of sweat lingered in the humid gym air, mixing with the faint rubbery smell of the basketball court. Their chests rose and fell in uneven rhythms, some of them still clutching water bottles with trembling hands. The sunlight streaming through the high gym windows illuminated floating dust particles as Nanaho stepped forward.
"That was a close call. Great work, Noboru. You gave us a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to win this game," said Nanaho, patting him on the back.
Noboru let out a raspy chuckle, his shoulders still rising and falling rapidly. "Yes, it's only natural for a player of my caliber," he said, trying to catch his breath. His face was slick with sweat, a deep redness blooming across his cheeks. But as he spoke, his eyelids fluttered, and the edges of his vision seemed to ripple. He blinked hard. The sunlight above began to smear, and the bench felt as though it was rocking beneath him. A ringing buzzed in his ears.
He staggered as he stood.
"Noboru, are you okay?" Nanaho asked, her eyes narrowing, voice filled with sudden concern.
"I'm fine," Noboru replied, but his legs gave out beneath him. His knees buckled, and with a soft thud, he collapsed onto the hardwood floor. The impact sent a muffled echo through the gym.
"Oh no, Noboru!" Nanaho and his teammates exclaimed, immediately scrambling to his side. Shuffling footsteps and startled gasps filled the huddle.
"Give him some space so he can breathe," Yukio said, his voice cutting through the panic as he waved his arms to push others back. His forehead was glistening, and the back of his jersey clung tightly to his skin.
Coach Arimoto rushed over, eyes wide. "What happened to him?" he asked, crouching to check Noboru's pulse.
"Eiji, go get someone to help him," Arimoto instructed. Eiji's face was pale, but he nodded quickly and took a step toward the exit.
"I'll go with you since we're from the same school; it's for the best," said Yuri, placing her hand on Eiji's shoulder before they both knelt to lift Noboru.
Noboru's arm dangled limply over Eiji's shoulder. His breathing was shallow, chest fluttering rapidly. The floor under them was slick where he'd collapsed, sweat soaking into the boards. The crowd murmured behind them, a ripple of unease spreading through the spectators as they watched him being carried off.
"Such a shame," Kanae muttered to herself. Her hands were clasped together tightly on her lap. "He really did solid for his team. Too bad he won't be here to see it."
"He just collapsed due to fatigue. We'll take him to the infirmary," Eiji said to Nanaho as they passed, his arms stiff from supporting Noboru's weight.
"Thanks for this, you guys. I really appreciate it," Nanaho said, brushing strands of damp hair out of her face. Her eyes lingered on Noboru's retreating form. "He held out for a very long time, far longer than I expected. He never once fumbled or traveled—he's really done well."
"So what's the plan, Nanaho?" Yukio asked, stepping in. His shoulders were tense, his fists clenched loosely by his sides, knuckles pale.
"We have no choice. Shino, you'll have to play in Noboru's place. Are you up for the challenge?" Nanaho asked, her voice calm but firm, cutting through the anxious noise.
"Y-yes, I'm ready," Shino replied. His lips trembled slightly, but he stood taller. The palms of his hands were damp, and he wiped them quickly against his shorts.
Nanaho knelt and pulled out her tactics board, the black marker cap clicking as she removed it. The board was streaked with faded lines and smudged plays. She drew quickly, her hands steady despite the situation.
"Okay, listen carefully. Hayato, you'll have the ball up top. Yukio, you'll set a screen for him, and Takahiro, you'll set a screen for Tetsuo. Meanwhile, Shino will cut into the key. Then, Tetsuo will come around to score a three-pointer."
"Right, so that's the play," Yukio said, nodding. Drops of sweat slid down the side of his neck and disappeared into his jersey collar.
"Well, that's the twist," Nanaho chuckled. "It's a little unexpected, but it'll work."
Haruko sat further behind, her eyes scanning each player's face as they regrouped. Her chest was tight, and the echoes of bouncing basketballs from earlier rang faintly in her ears. She leaned forward slightly, gripping the edge of her seat.
"This game has taught me so much," Haruko thought to herself. "These guys are truly amazing. It's not just Tetsuo, every one of them has something they excel at, and they utilize it all in unity. They're putting up an incredible fight against Yokonan. With the score at 88–86, Toshigawa in possession, I wonder how this will all end. Will Tetsuo win this game?"
Across the court, Coach Arimoto clapped his hands loudly, gathering his players into a tight semicircle. The squeak of shoes echoed as they slid into place.
"Listen up. I want you to focus on number four and number eleven. In a situation like this, they're more likely to take three-pointers. As for number six, leave him be if he's within the three-point line. And make sure Yukio doesn't get the ball in the post. That old-looking guy is dangerous in those zones."
The team nodded, the tension evident in their stiff necks and clenched jaws.
"Stop them now, and we win this game. Let's do this," Coach Arimoto said, his voice filled with urgency. His throat was dry, but his tone cracked with intensity. "What's our name?!"
"Yokonan!" shouted the team in unison, their voices echoing into the rafters.
"What's our name?" the coach asked again, louder, stomping his foot.
"Yokonan!!" they yelled back, louder this time, the vibration of their voices rumbling through the gym floor.
"Three, two, one... fight!!"
Keichiro turned to Kogure, who was breathing through his nose slowly, watching the court like a hawk. His arms were already raised slightly in defensive anticipation.
"Be sure to guard that number eleven well. In times like these, he's the most dangerous person on the court."
"I know," Kogure replied confidently, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "If I let him do as he pleases, we'll definitely lose. I'm going to fully assert myself defensively and lock him down."
The referee's whistle pierced the air, and the gym fell into a focused silence. Yukio inbounded the basketball to Hayato. The ball smacked firmly into his palms with a satisfying slap, and he immediately began dribbling forward. The floorboards trembled faintly under each footfall.
"Alright, everyone, let's execute the plan," Hayato said, his tone measured. His shoes screeched against the varnished floor as Kayano stepped up to guard him, his arms spread wide.
"It's been fun, Hayato, but this is the end of the line," Kayano said, his breath hot, voice low and gravelly with effort.
"Sorry, but I don't plan on losing to you. Not today, and not ever," Hayato replied with determination, his body lowering into a tighter stance.
He signaled, and immediately the play began. Shino sprinted into the key and curled out again, footsteps light but quick. Yukio braced himself, planting his feet and setting a solid screen for Hayato. Kayano collided into it with a dull thud and staggered back a step.
At the same time, Takahiro rammed his shoulder into Kogure's side as he screened for Tetsuo. Kogure grunted, shoved past the obstruction, and shadowed Tetsuo as he curved along the arc.
Hayato drove toward the basket. Each step pounded the floor. The air felt heavier, time stretching. Ryuu stepped up, his arms raised, eyes locked on Hayato's center. Kayano recovered, pursuing from behind with rapid strides.
The countdown boomed in the gym:
"Ten... nine... eight..."
Kogure kept tracking Tetsuo, but something nagged at him. His gut clenched.
"It's over. Wait... something isn't right. Number four isn't looking this way... does that mean... Tetsuo was a decoy?" Kogure thought, eyes darting. His fingers twitched.
"Then the person to take the last shot is Yukio!"
Earlier, Nanaho had said:
"It's obvious that Tetsuo will take the final shot. He's been scoring three-pointers all game, which will definitely alarm them. So, there's no doubt in my mind that they'll shut him down completely in the final moments. Hayato made one earlier, so he'll be guarded heavily too, so that's out of the question. But you, Yukio, will only alarm them inside the post. If you come out of the post to set a screen for Hayato, they will leave you wide open for a brief moment, and that's where our opportunity lies."
"I see," Yukio had thought. "So you want me to take the shot?"
"I believe you, Yukio," Nanaho had said, locking eyes with him, firm but encouraging. "You deserve to take this shot. The shot that will decide this game."
Now, as Hayato surged into the key, he lifted the ball as if to shoot. Ryuu and Kayano both launched into the air, their bodies extending, arms reaching to block what they thought was the game-winning layup.
Mid-air, Hayato twisted and released a clean behind-the-back pass. The ball whipped past Kayano's hand, spinning rapidly, and landed in Yukio's hands at the top of the arc.
Kayano and Ryuu twisted their necks, too late to react. Yukio caught it clean. His knees bent, feet firmly planted. The rubber of his sneakers squeaked softly. His fingertips felt the familiar grooves of the ball.
He rose.
The entire gym held its breath.
The ball left his hands in a tight rotation, the follow-through smooth. Silence. No whistles. No cheers. Just the faint sound of leather cutting through the air.