The atmosphere in the arena never once settled during the entire first half.
Players raced up and down the court—steals, fast breaks, and buzzer-beating threes unfolding one after another. In the stands, the screams and cheers were nearly constant.
Every player on the floor could feel the waves of heat and excitement pouring from the spectators.
But for the players from Kainan and Shoyo, watching from the sidelines, the entire game gave off an indescribable sense of awkwardness.
The confrontation was fierce, the score tight, the momentum seemingly balanced… and yet something felt off.
Jin Soichiro tilted his head, brows slightly furrowed.
"I can't shake the feeling that something's strange about this game."
"Huh? Jin-senpai feels that way too?" Kiyota Nobunaga immediately chimed in, clearly relieved someone else had noticed. "I thought something was weird just now."
He turned to Maki Shinichi. "Captain Maki, what do you think?"
Maki didn't answer right away. His gaze stayed locked on the court, expression thoughtful.
After a long moment, he finally spoke.
"It is strange. On the surface, the match looks even… but—"
He suddenly focused on Ake, who had just been subbed out.
Ake sat on the bench without a trace of exhaustion—no flushed cheeks, no heavy breathing. His expression remained calm, almost detached, his mismatched eyes still and unreadable.
Seeing this, Maki's unease only deepened.
Something wasn't as simple as it appeared.
On the other side, Hanagata Toru pushed up his glasses as he looked at the scoreboard.
"It's tied…?"
He had analyzed both teams privately and expected Ryonan to hold a comfortable lead by halftime. A tied score was completely outside his expectations.
He glanced at the Shohoku players walking off the court and murmured, "Is Shohoku really this strong?"
Fujima Kenji, like Maki, had been watching Ake closely.
He heard Hanagata's whisper, withdrew his gaze, and said, "Shohoku has improved quickly. Maybe they really do have the strength to fight Ryonan."
He paused, looking again at Ake.
"But Ryonan hasn't shown everything yet."
Shohoku's bench.
Takenori Akagi and the others were breathing heavily, their hair soaked with sweat.
They didn't look exhausted, but the amount of sweat on their bodies said otherwise.
The intensity of the first half had drained them far more than usual.
"You all did great. Keep it up in the second half," Ayako said as she handed out towels and water, smiling warmly.
Before the game, she had just hoped they wouldn't fall too far behind.
After losing to Ryonan by fifty points in their practice match, she never imagined they'd go into halftime tied.
It gave her a glimmer of hope she didn't expect.
Akagi stared at the scoreboard, feeling a mix of disbelief and dazed confusion.
He had fully expected to trail after the first half.
But now… if they kept this pace, beating Ryonan didn't feel impossible.
Miyagi Ryota wiped his sweat, though his movements were distracted. His brows were furrowed, his eyes full of doubt.
Finally, he couldn't help asking:
"Hey… I'm serious—this Ake… is he really as amazing as you guys said?"
Instantly, silence fell.
Every Shohoku player turned toward Miyagi.
"Of course!" Ayako replied immediately, her tone firm. "Didn't you see his passing? It's incredible."
Miyagi lowered his head, thought for a moment, then said:
"His passing is accurate, and his ball-handling's good… but that's it. At least from the first half, he didn't seem like someone impossible to deal with."
He looked around at everyone, baffled.
"I honestly can't imagine how someone like him beat you guys by fifty points."
The Shohoku players froze.
Akagi snapped back to reality as the joy in his chest vanished—replaced by uncertainty.
'What was going on?'
At that moment, Mitsuyoshi Anzai lifted his head, a faint flash reflecting on his glasses.
His gaze drifted past the court, settling on one spot.
Ake on Ryonan's bench.
Ryonan's bench.
The players sat calmly, quietly.
Some wiped sweat, some sipped water, but none showed even a hint of fatigue.
Despite the intensity of the first half, their breathing remained steady—almost relaxed.
Coach Taoka Moichi looked over them and nodded in approval.
"You all controlled the rhythm well. Everything went smoothly. I just didn't expect Shohoku to keep the score tied."
His tone hardened slightly.
"In the second half, we pull ahead. For our offensive and defensive adjustments, follow Ake's instructions."
"Yes, sir!" the players responded.
Then Ake spoke.
His voice was calm, almost indifferent.
"The probing phase ends here. Continuing it won't yield anything new."
Earlier — Ryonan locker room, before the game.
Coach Taoka had just finished speaking when he turned to Ake.
"Ake, any thoughts?"
Ake replied, expression unchanged.
"Shohoku is no longer the team they used to be. Their potential is enormous, and they often exceed expectations. So I suggest we spend the first half probing them. It will make planning for the second half much easier."
Coach Taoka thought for a moment, then nodded.
"If you already have a plan, we'll follow it."
Back to the present.
Ake's lips curved into a faint, unsettling smile.
"The board is set.
Now… it's time to capture the pieces."
Then he looked to one side of the bench.
"Fukuda. You're up."
Fukuda's body tensed instantly, his eyes lighting with fighting spirit.
Before he could answer, Ake continued:
"Besides scoring, your job is to stick to Sakuragi Hanamichi. Keep him out of the paint. Don't let him get near the basket."
"Yes!" Fukuda answered sharply.
The halftime break ended quickly.
Beep—
The whistle cut through the noise.
The second half was about to begin.
At center court, Uozumi and Akagi squared off, knees bent, eyes locked on the ball in the referee's hands.
Akagi's gaze drifted briefly to Ryonan's lineup… and then to Ake.
His brows furrowed.
'What is this guy planning?'
Ake clearly hadn't shown his full ability earlier.
He seemed almost casual in the first half.
'Was it confidence?'
'Or something else entirely?'
Before Akagi could think further, Uozumi spoke.
"Come on, Akagi. Use your full strength. Otherwise… you won't stand a chance."
"What did you say?"
Akagi's veins bulged in anger.
Uozumi snorted.
"Nothing. I just hope you won't regret it later."
A sudden chill climbed Akagi's spine.
Something felt wrong.
But then—
Beep!
The referee raised his arm.
Whoosh—
The ball flew upward.
The second half began.