Inside the gymnasium where Ryonan was about to face Tsukubu, two dull thuds suddenly echoed.
Bang… Bang… The sound of the heavy iron doors being pushed open spread through the entire venue.
The gym, which moments ago buzzed with conversation, instantly fell silent.
The next second, every gaze turned toward the player tunnels on both sides of the court, eyes locked in anticipation.
Accompanied by a rhythm of steady footsteps, the players from both teams began walking out of the tunnels.
Among the spectators, a sizable portion were Tsukubu supporters.
The moment Tsukubu's players appeared, the stands erupted into thunderous cheers and applause, a chant breaking out in perfect rhythm that shook the eardrums of everyone present.
"Tsukubu! Clap, clap, clap! Tsukubu! Clap, clap, clap!"
But the roar didn't last long — it was soon swallowed up by an even greater wave of sound.
It happened the instant Ryonan's players stepped out from the other tunnel.
"Ryonan! Ryonan! Ryonan!"
"Sendoh! Sendoh! Sendoh!"
"Ake! Ake! Ake!"
Team names and player names intertwined, merging into a deafening chorus that threatened to shake the entire gymnasium.
After their last match against Miuradai, many spectators had developed a deep interest in Ake.
As Ryonan's new captain, his elegant playstyle and precise, almost artistic passing had left a powerful impression.
And so, after that game, Ake had quickly gathered a growing number of fans.
The moment he led Ryonan out onto the court, almost every eye in the stands locked onto him — and murmurs began to spread.
"Is that Ryonan's first-year captain?"
"I heard he was incredible in the last match!"
"Are his passes really as good as they say?"
"He doesn't look that special though…"
"What's with the red hair? Dyeing it at that age can't be good for his head, right?"
Curiosity, excitement, and a few skeptical voices mixed together — but no one could take their eyes off him.
Not the spectators. Not even the players from other teams watching from the stands.
After all, his last game's stats had been nothing short of monstrous — over 40 assists and 40 steals.
Numbers that sounded less like human performance and more like legend.
Yet, amidst all the noise and flashing lights, Ake remained composed.
His expression was calm, his pace unhurried, as if he were just strolling down an empty street, untouched by the crowd's frenzy.
Behind him, the rest of the Ryonan team followed in formation — Uozumi at the front, then Sendoh, Koshino, Ikegami, Uekusa, and the bench players. A complete, confident lineup.
Click… Click… Click…
The flashes of cameras lit up the air as reporters snapped away, capturing the moment the two teams entered the court.
Ryonan and Tsukubu's players met each other's eyes across the court.
No words were exchanged, but the tension in the air was enough — the battle had already begun.
Moments later, both sides turned and walked to their respective benches.
Ryonan's Bench.
Ake sat down and turned to Uozumi and Sendoh.
"Today's game will depend mainly on you two," he said evenly. "Sendoh, you'll take Godai Tomokazu. And Senior Uozumi—Nango Koichiro's yours."
Both men nodded firmly.
"As long as we suppress those two," Ake added, "Tsukubu won't stand a chance."
He had already observed Tsukubu's players carefully.
Aside from Godai and Nango, their roster lacked anyone particularly dangerous — nothing Ryonan couldn't handle.
Unless they pulled the kind of cheap tricks Miuradai had tried, the result was already decided in his mind.
To Ake, this match felt easier than Miuradai's.
"Final Four vs. Final Four" — that title was just for show.
To him, this was simply another warm-up on the road to Nationals.
Of course, only he knew what he was thinking.
Sitting quietly on the bench with his white jacket draped over his shoulder, Ake didn't move to join the warm-up. His calm stillness stood out sharply amid the sound of bouncing balls and sneakers squeaking on the court.
The audience quickly noticed.
In the stands.
Fujima Kenji frowned slightly as his gaze fell on Ake, who remained seated. "It looks like he doesn't plan to play," he murmured.
Beside him, Hanagata Toru pushed his glasses up and let out a soft scoff. "What an arrogant kid."
To him, sitting out against an opponent like Tsukubu was overconfidence — plain and simple.
He thought Ryonan was acting as if they were Shoyo.
Elsewhere, the Shohoku team was also puzzled.
Kogure crossed his arms. "Judging from that, he really doesn't plan to play," he said thoughtfully.
Ayako shook her head. "I don't get what he's thinking. Does he really believe Ryonan can beat Tsukubu without him? They're a Final Four-level team!"
Miyagi Ryota scoffed. "This guy's just showing off."
Mitsui snorted. "Yeah, acting all cool for no reason."
Sakuragi Hanamichi suddenly slapped his hands together. "Wait! Maybe he's like me — being hidden as the secret weapon!"
The entire Shohoku bench turned to stare at him, their faces a mix of confusion and mild disgust.
Same old Sakuragi.
Meanwhile, Rukawa Kaede stayed silent, his cold eyes fixed on Ake the entire time.
As the warm-up ended, both teams gathered at the center circle.
The tension was thick.
Godai Tomokazu scanned Ryonan's starting lineup, then glanced at the bench. Seeing Ake still sitting, he frowned slightly.
"Is your captain not playing?" he asked.
Sendoh smiled. "You mean Ake? He probably won't be joining us."
"What?" Nango Koichiro snapped, his voice full of irritation. "You really think you can beat us without him?"
Uozumi looked down at him with a faint smirk. "You?" he said coldly. "Who are you supposed to be?"
That single line lit a fire in Nango's chest. His face turned red with anger. "You… damn gorilla!"
"...What did you just say?" Uozumi's tone dropped. His fists clenched until his knuckles popped, his expression darkening.
Behind him, Koshino and the others tried to hold in their laughter, their shoulders shaking.
It had been a while since anyone dared to insult Uozumi like that.
The last one to do it was Shohoku's loudmouth, Sakuragi Hanamichi — who'd once called him Boss Ape.
Nango, oblivious to the danger, puffed up proudly, grinning wide as he shouted, "All of you listen up, I am—"
"You little punk," Uozumi growled, cutting him off mid-sentence, his voice dripping with anger.
He'd already decided — this kid was getting crushed today.
"Huh?"
Caught off guard, Nango blinked, the interruption choking his words in his throat.
Before he could retort, the referee stepped in, looking stern. "No unnecessary chatter before the match. Focus, both teams."
Then, turning specifically to Nango, he added, "And you — quiet down. You're way too loud."
Nango glared, wanting to argue, but the referee's sharp gaze shut him up immediately.
Satisfied, the referee walked to the center of the court.
Then—
Beep!
The whistle pierced the air.
The ball arced upward, spinning in the light.
Uozumi and Nango jumped almost simultaneously, their arms slicing through the air.
And just like that—
Ryonan vs. Tsukubu. The game had officially begun.