The Takanotsume High gym thrummed with anticipation, the crowd's roars a stark contrast to the quiet tension in Kenji Tachibana's chest. The friendly match was more than a test of "Phantom Shift" against Takanotsume's bruising forwards—it was a stage for Hana's bait, a fake USB planted to trick Hoshino, whose silent nod last night lingered like a dare. Kenji's healed finger spun the ball with confidence, but Kaito Kurogane's presence in the stands, white gloves flashing, signaled another round of traps to frustrate his game. The Yokohama warehouse raid's success—securing proof of Kaito's father's '98 Saito hit—burned in Kenji's mind, but Hoshino's "Choose" note and the shadow league's reach made every move a gamble. The Principal Cup loomed, and this friendly was a crucible.
Hana stood on the sidelines, clipboard tight, eyes scanning for the Kurogane scout from yesterday's drills. "The fake USB's in your bag, Kenji," she whispered, her voice steady despite the Enforcer's warehouse chase haunting her. "Let Hoshino take it—prove his choice." Her gaze met Kenji's, a spark of trust anchoring him after their dockside escape.
Akira called "Phantom Shift, variation five!" his playbook sharp, Hoshino's nod fueling his resolve. "Takanotsume's rebounds are brutal—90% control. Rin, light 'em up!" Rin Matsuoka, the shooting ace, sank a deep three, his 95% accuracy a blade, knee brace creaking but eyes unyielding. "Aim. Fire. Win," he muttered. Jiro's cut slashed through a mock defender, Riku's speed burned the baseline, and Tatsuya's fake pulled a big man out. Kaito Hattori blocked a shot, tripping but grinning, "Got it, oops!" Daichi, sharper now, grabbed a rebound, earning Morita's nod.
From the tip-off, Kaito's traps hit hard. Takanotsume's center, a towering kid named Goro, mirrored Kaito's orders, slamming Kenji into a double-team. "Kaito's playbook," Kenji growled, dodging with his phantom dribble and lobbing to Rin for a three—swish. Score: Shinwa 15, Takanotsume 12.
Morita barked from the bench, "Stay loose, Kenji! Saito broke traps—you can too!" His '98 guilt lingered, but his faith in Kenji was steel. Hana signaled the fake play, "Shift Surge," fed to the ousted trainer, and Takanotsume bit, overcommitting to Kenji's drive. He passed to Jiro, who slashed for a layup, grinning at the Kurogane scout.
At halftime, Shinwa led 40-36, but Haru rushed in, laptop glowing. "The warehouse records name Kaito's dad as the '98 cleanup head—direct orders to the Enforcer," he said, voice low. "But Hoshino's debt release? It's conditional—he delivers the 'proof' or his family's back in debt." Kenji's pulse spiked. Hoshino, in the stands, watched Akira, his nod from last night now a question mark.
Hana's pen flew. "We leave the fake USB in your bag, Kenji—let Hoshino grab it post-game. If he's flipping, he'll hand it to Kaito's dad. If not, we've got him." Her hand grazed Kenji's, steadying his nerves. Akira's eyes burned. "I'll draw him out on the court. He can't hide."
Post-halftime, the game intensified. Kenji drove through Goro's block, his healed finger flicking a no-look pass to Rin, who sank another three, the crowd roaring. Takanotsume's forwards dominated rebounds, but Riku's speed and Tatsuya's fakes opened lanes. Akira's unscripted calls kept Phantom Shift fluid, hitting 89% completion, Haru noted from the bench. Kaito's traps tightened—Taiga's elbow grazed Kenji's ribs, a ref ignoring it—but Kenji spun free, feeding Rin for a dagger three.
With seconds left, tied at 65, Kenji spotted Hoshino near the bench, eyes on his bag. He faked a drive, drawing Goro, and lobbed to Rin, who launched a three—swish. Shinwa 68, Takanotsume 65. The buzzer sounded, and the gym erupted, but Kenji's focus was on Hoshino, who slipped toward the locker room.
Post-game, Kenji left his bag unguarded, the fake USB inside. Hana whispered, "He's moving." Hoshino, casual, grabbed the USB and left, his glance at Akira unreadable. Haru, tracking via a hidden app, grinned. "It's pinging—he's heading to a Kurogane office." Kenji's heart raced. Was Hoshino delivering the bait or betraying them?
At a team huddle, Morita clapped Kenji's shoulder. "You're Saito's kid—unbreakable." His '98 story echoed, strengthening their bond. Hana squeezed Kenji's hand, her voice fierce. "The warehouse proof's safe. If Hoshino's with us, we hit Kaito's dad next. If not, we're ready." Akira stared at the hoop, playbook tight. "He chose. I'll finish it."
As they left, the Kurogane scout vanished, but a new figure lingered in the parking lot—a woman in a hood, watching, her silhouette familiar from Tatami's network. She dropped a single page, fluttering to the ground: a shadow league roster, with a new name circled in red—Kaede. The journalist was playing her own game, and the next move was theirs.