The Shinwa High gym was quiet, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the court as Kenji Tachibana spun a basketball, his healed finger steady. Last night's Takanotsume friendly—68-65, with Rin's clutch three sealing the win—had solidified "Phantom Shift," but Hoshino's grab of the fake USB and Kaede's circled name on the shadow league roster, dropped by a hooded figure, shifted the game. Kaito Kurogane's traps to frustrate Kenji's play were relentless, and his father's '98 Saito hit loomed larger with the warehouse proof now safe. The Tokyo Principal Cup was closing in, and the next friendly—against powerhouse Aoyama Tech—would test their edge. But Kaede's move and Hoshino's choice demanded answers, fast.
Hana sat on the bleachers, her notebook open, sketching a plan to track Hoshino's USB handoff. "He's at a Kurogane office," she said, checking Haru's tracking app. "If he delivers the fake, we've bought time. If not, he's still Kaito's." Her eyes met Kenji's, steady but sharp, their bond a quiet strength after the Takanotsume rush.
Haru, laptop glowing, adjusted his glasses. "The roster Kaede dropped? It lists shadow league players—pros, refs, even coaches. Her name's circled, but no role. She's hiding something." He pulled up the warehouse records, Kaito's father's signature glaring: Saito Tachibana – Terminate. "We've got enough to nail him, but Kaede's play could change the board."
Akira, playbook in hand, stared at the hoop. "Hoshino took the bait," he said, voice hard. "If he's with Kaito's dad, I'll bury him at Aoyama." His resolve, forged by Hoshino's betrayal and the "Choose" note, burned hotter since the badge drop.
Coach Morita gathered the team—Kenji, Rin, Jiro, Tatsuya, Riku, Kaito Hattori, Daichi—for Aoyama prep. "They're sharpshooters, like Meiji, but faster—88% three-point accuracy," he barked. "Rin, you're our ace. Phantom Shift, variation six, Kenji drives, Rin shoots." Rin sank a three, his 95% accuracy a blade, knee brace creaking but focus unwavering. "Aim. Fire. Win," he said, sinking another.
Jiro tossed a candy wrapper, grinning. "Kaito's gonna trap you again, Kenji—probably Taiga's elbows." Riku's speed burned in a drill, Tatsuya's fake drew a mock defender, and Kaito Hattori blocked a shot, stumbling but laughing, "Sorry, got it!" Daichi, now vigilant, spotted a new "fan" filming—another Kurogane plant? Hana's pen stopped, her eyes narrowing.
Kenji dodged a trap, his healed finger flicking a pass to Rin—swish. Kaito's Meiji and Takanotsume fouls flashed in his mind, but Morita's words—"Saito broke traps"—kept him sharp. "We'll outplay Kaito," he told Hana, her nod fierce.
At a Kurogane studio that evening, Kenji posed for a high-energy shoot, his healed finger spinning a ball with flair. Ami, tense, whispered, "Kaito's dad knows you hit the warehouse. He's pushing Kaito to crush you at Aoyama—rigged refs, maybe." Her eyes flicked to a crew member with a Kurogane pin, echoing the Enforcer's badge. "Kaede's gone dark—watch her." Kenji's jaw tightened, the fake USB's ping still active at Kurogane's office. Hoshino's move was unclear, and Kaede's roster added a new player to the game.
That night, in a cramped Tokyo café, Kenji, Hana, Haru, and Akira met Tatami and a network ex-player, Taro. The roster lay on the table, Kaede's name circled in red. "She's a double agent," Taro said, voice low. "Feeding us intel but meeting Kurogane execs. That roster? It's her warning—shadow league names, but she's risking exposure." He slid over a new lead: a Kurogane server hub in Shinjuku, holding digital shadow league files. "Hit it before Aoyama, or Kaito's dad wipes it."
Haru's eyes lit up. "I can hack it, but we need physical access. Risky after Yokohama." Hana mapped the hub, her pen steady. "We go tomorrow, post-drill. If Hoshino gave the fake USB, Kaito's dad's distracted. If not, we're exposed." Her hand grazed Kenji's, grounding him.
Akira's voice was ice. "Hoshino's at Aoyama. I'll know his game." He sketched a new Phantom Shift variant, countering Kaito's traps. Kenji felt the weight of Saito's proof, Rin's shooting, and Hana's plan. "We end this," he said, defiance rising.
The next morning, drills intensified. Rin's threes rained down, his shooting ace status (95% accuracy) a weapon against Aoyama's shooters. Kenji's phantom dribble broke traps, feeding Rin, while Jiro's cuts and Riku's speed kept pace. Morita rallied them, his '98 story brief but fierce: "Saito trusted his team. You trust yours." His guilt was fading, replaced by fire.
Post-drill, Haru confirmed the USB ping stopped at Kurogane's office—Hoshino delivered it. "Fake worked," he grinned. "They're chasing nothing." But a new ping appeared—Kaede's phone, at the Shinjuku hub. Kenji's pulse spiked. Was she setting them up or leading them in?
As they left for the hub, the gym's scoreboard flickered, a single word flashing: "Check." No Hoshino, no note—just a taunt, carved into the court's edge, daring them to strike before Aoyama's whistle blew