Tsukubu's Locker Room
The locker room was eerily quiet.
The air felt so heavy it could be wrung out.
Every player sat slumped, heads down, shoulders drooping — like a flock of defeated roosters.
Their breathing was rough, weighed down by frustration.
"Damn it… damn it… damn it!"
Nango Koichiro stomped the floor so hard the benches rattled. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles turned white, growling as if to exorcise all his anger and humiliation.
The memory of Uozumi's blocks replayed in his mind, every collision's pain fanning the flames of his irritation.
Godai Tomokazu sat motionless in the farthest corner, his hands buried in his hair, silent as stone.
His lowered lashes hid the emotions swirling in his eyes, but the tight line of his lips and the faint tremor in his shoulders betrayed his turmoil.
Before the game, they'd encouraged each other, full of confidence — determined to reach Nationals and make Tsukubu's name known across Kanagawa.
But as high as their confidence soared then, their disappointment now felt twice as heavy.
They'd believed they could go toe-to-toe with Ryonan — maybe even pull off an upset. Instead, reality hit like a sledgehammer.
They'd been crushed, without a single chance to fight back.
'How could they accept that?'
The fire of frustration burned hotter in Godai's chest, his eyes reddening as he abruptly raised his head.
"The game's not over yet," he said hoarsely, but his voice carried a hard edge of conviction. "We still have a chance."
Every head turned toward him instantly.
Godai stood, fists clenched, his gaze sweeping over each defeated face. "We just have to take it back in the second half. Nineteen points—" he smirked faintly, "—that's nothing."
"Captain…" Natsume Hiroshi started, then stopped.
He looked into Godai's eyes — that stubborn, burning light — and felt a bitter taste rise in his throat.
'Do you even realize what you're saying?'
This wasn't something that could be fixed with guts alone.
The gap between the two teams wasn't small enough to bridge with willpower.
As point guard, Natsume saw the game from above — the flow, the patterns, the walls.
He could fight through the second half, yes…
But to actually turn the tables on Ryonan?
That was a dream.
The difference in individual skill between the teams was too wide.
Still—
Nango slapped his thigh, his deep voice breaking through the silence. "That's right! The game's not over yet. I'm not giving up — not until the final buzzer!"
The frustration on his face melted away, replaced by the raw spark of a fighter's spirit.
Izumi took a deep breath, exhaled, and nodded firmly. "Alright. Then let's claw it back, one basket at a time."
Mine raised his voice. "You even gotta ask? We'll make Ryonan respect us before this is over!"
Their voices rose, one after another — from despair to defiance.
Natsume couldn't help but smile faintly. "Fine. You guys score — I'll get you the ball."
The players shared quick, fierce grins. The heaviness in the air began to lift. Their breathing grew steadier, charged with a reckless kind of resolve.
Kawasaki Kazumi, watching from the sidelines, felt a warmth spread in his chest.
He cleared his throat. "Good. That's good."
His voice was steadier now. "Being able to hold onto your fighting spirit in a moment like this — that's what makes you real players."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the room. "The situation's tough, no doubt about it. But as Godai said — the game's not over. Until the final whistle blows, we haven't lost. And as long as we haven't lost—"
He slammed a fist into his palm. "—we still have a chance!"
His words hit like a drumbeat.
The players straightened up, their eyes burning once again.
Kawasaki raised his voice, sharp and powerful. "There've been plenty of comebacks in basketball history. Why can't we be one of them? Why can't Tsukubu?"
The fire roared back to life in the room.
"Yeah!"
The unified shout shook the walls — a defiant roar that broke through the suffocating silence.
Ryonan's Locker Room
The mood couldn't have been more different.
The players were relaxed, laughing and chatting as they reviewed the first half.
A nineteen-point lead was enough to ease even the tensest nerves.
Only Ake sat quietly in the corner, tying his shoelaces.
His white jacket was neatly folded beside him — a clear sign he was about to play.
Sendoh noticed first.
He walked over with an easy grin. "You planning to play the second half, Ake?"
At that, the chatter stopped. Every head turned.
Ake rarely took the court when Ryonan already had the game in hand.
For them, there was Ryonan without Ake — nearly unbeatable.
And Ryonan with Ake — absolutely untouchable.
Koshino raised a brow. "We're already up by nineteen. Isn't the win pretty much locked? Do we really need you to go in?"
That was what everyone was thinking.
Ake finished tying his shoe, straightened, and spoke in a calm, even tone — like he was stating the weather.
"Yeah. The game's basically decided."
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "But Tsukubu won't just roll over."
He stood, brushing the wrinkles from his jersey, his heterochromatic eyes glinting sharply under the light.
"No matter how weak an animal is," he said quietly, "when cornered, it'll bite back."
A faint smile crossed his lips — cool, yet menacing.
"I won't let that happen. We're going to snuff out their last spark."
The locker room fell completely silent.
That presence again — the same chill and pressure that made even his teammates hold their breath.
Ryonan's players exchanged looks — admiration, awe… and a touch of fear.
Coach Taoka, watching from the side, didn't say a word. He just sighed softly.
"...Good luck, Tsukubu," he murmured.
He knew better than anyone: to become truly great, a team needed a certain ruthlessness.
Mercy had no place at the top.
Even the strongest high school team in Japan — the one everyone feared — shared that same merciless nature.
Ake's decision, harsh as it seemed, was the only path forward.
The ticking of the timer echoed through the room.
The second half was about to begin.
Ake stretched his ankles until his joints popped, then turned toward the door.
"Alright," he said simply. "Let's go."
No fiery speech. No bravado.
Just quiet authority that made everyone stand a little taller as they followed him out.
Court No. 2
When Ryonan returned to the court, the crowd instantly stirred.
"Ryonan's making a substitution!"
"Wait — isn't that their red-haired captain?"
"He didn't play the first half, so why now? They're already winning!"
The buzz spread through the stands. Even players from other schools were whispering among themselves.
"Fujima," Hanagata said, eyes narrowing. "What do you think he's up to?"
Fujima's calm gaze followed Ake to center court.
After a moment, he spoke quietly. "If I had to guess—he's making sure Tsukubu never gets a chance to come back."
Hanagata's eyes widened. "But they're already up nineteen! Isn't that enough?"
Fujima exhaled slowly. "Who knows?"
On the other side of the stands, Kainan's players were watching too.
Kiyota scratched his head. "Captain, doesn't that red-haired guy look kinda familiar? Like we've seen him before?"
Maki frowned slightly, eyes narrowed in thought. As Kainan's ace, he'd faced countless opponents — but this one's aura stood out.
Calm. Sharp. Dangerous.
After a pause, Maki murmured, "You might be right. I feel like I've seen him somewhere too."
Beside them, Jin Soichiro adjusted his glasses, his usual gentle smile fading slightly. "His presence… it's intense."
Muto stared at the number on Ake's jersey. "Number 4… that must be the first-year captain everyone's been talking about."
He crossed his arms, muscles tense. "So that's him."
Kiyota puffed out his chest. "What's so great about that? When Captain Maki graduates, I'll be the captain anyway."
Takasago shot him a dry look. "If Jin's still here, the captain's spot won't be yours."
Kiyota flinched. "Ah—well, Jin hates tedious stuff, right?" he said quickly, flashing a grin at Jin.
Jin chuckled softly. "Yeah, can't argue with that."
Maki's calm voice cut through the banter. "Enough. Watch the game."
He didn't raise his voice — he didn't have to. "That Ryonan number four… he's no ordinary player."
At that, the entire Kainan bench fell silent.