The Shinwa High library was a quiet refuge, sunlight filtering through dusty windows as Kenji Tachibana flipped through a poetry book, his mind on the Aoyama Tech friendly hours away. The microchip from his locker—glowing, coded, tied to Kaede's shadowy broadcast plan—hummed in his pocket, a reminder of the stakes. Hoshino's demand for a Cup showdown with Akira lingered from last night's ramen shop, and Kaito's traps loomed, but the library's calm grounded Kenji. In class earlier, he'd tied a poem's defiance to his own fight, earning claps despite whispers of Kaito's "slipping star" rumor.
Hana Mizuno slipped in, her council binder tucked away, her quick smile a spark. "Haru's decoding the chip," she whispered, her voice steady with strategy. "Aoyama's our chance to test Hoshino." Rin Matsuoka, at a corner table, sketched shot arcs, his focus razor-sharp. Jiro tossed a candy wrapper into a bin, grinning at Riku, "Bet I outshoot you today." Riku smirked, his quick wit matching his pace. Kaito Hattori dropped a book, laughing, "My bad!" while Daichi, proud from the fair, helped a classmate with notes. Akira pored over Aoyama scouting reports, Hoshino's challenge a fire in his eyes. A new student, too slick, eyed Hana's bag, his Kurogane-logoed pen a warning.
The Aoyama Tech gym buzzed, fans roaring as Shinwa warmed up. Morita's voice cut through, "Aoyama's shooters are deadly—keep 'em guessing!" Rin sank a deep three, his aim a blade, brace creaking. Kenji weaved through a trap, feeding Rin—swish. Jiro slashed inside, Riku burned the baseline, Tatsuya faked out a guard. Kaito Hattori blocked a shot, stumbling but proud, while Daichi dove for a loose ball. Hana's fake play, "Shift Blitz," misled Aoyama, their guards chasing ghosts.
Kaito's rigged refs called soft fouls, opponents's elbow grazing Kenji, a smirk from the stands signaling Kaito's hand. Kenji spun free, feeding Rin for another three. Score: Shinwa 20, Aoyama 17. Akira's sharp calls kept the team fluid, his eyes on Hoshino in the crowd, watching, silent. Hana murmured, "He's here for Akira. Stay sharp."
At a Kurogane mall event, Kenji signed posters, his charm masking nerves. An exec sneered, "Don't choke today, kid." A taunt to rattle him. Ami, weaving through fans, passed a note: Kaito's dad knows the chip's real. Refs are his. A guard with a Kurogane pin lingered, watching Kenji's bag. "They're hunting you," Ami said, voice low. Kenji flashed a grin, defiance burning. "Let 'em."
Post-game, Shinwa clung to a 72-69 lead, Aoyama's shooters matching Rin's threes. Kenji broke a double-team, lobbing to Rin for a dagger three—swish. The buzzer roared, fans erupting. Hoshino approached Akira on the court, his voice low. "I freed my family," he said, eyes hard. "Qualifiers—you and me, one-on-one." Akira nodded, unflinching. "Name the court."
In the library, Haru's laptop flashed, the chip's code open. "Kaede's hacking the Cup broadcast—live, exposing Kaito's dad's bribes." Hana's eyes lit up. "We win, she broadcasts. Hoshino's move buys us time." Her hand brushed Kenji's, a quiet spark. Akira gripped his scouting report. "I'll settle it with him."
As they left, a drone whirred in the courtyard, its lens glinting, hovering over the hoop. No note, just its silent watch, daring them to strike before the Cup's whistle.