Thump… thump…
Uozumi and Takenori Akagi leapt for the tip-off again.
Both players shot upward at the same time, reaching for the ball midair.
But this time, the situation was completely different from the first half.
The previous scene—where the two touched the ball almost simultaneously—did not repeat itself.
Uozumi's hand rose higher, his palm a full half-palm above Akagi's, brushing the ball first.
'What?!'
Takenori Akagi's pupils shrank, his heart tightening.
'This guy…'
He couldn't hide his surprise at Uozumi's sudden burst of power.
Before he fully processed it, Uozumi flicked his wrist.
Smack—
He cleanly tipped the ball backward.
The ball traced an arc through the air and landed perfectly in Ake's hands.
Immediately, every Shohoku player locked their eyes onto Ake.
Ake held the ball calmly with both hands, his gaze fixed forward, feet planted, showing no intention of advancing.
Miyagi Ryota rushed at him without hesitation, lowering his body and preparing for a tight defensive press.
But just as he was about to close in—
Ake flicked his wrist, sending the ball smoothly to the side.
'Huh?'
Miyagi froze mid-step, his mind taking a moment to catch up.
'A pass? He's not driving? Why?'
There was no time to question it.
Sendoh Akira, who received the ball, didn't hesitate for a second.
The moment it touched his fingertips, his body flashed forward, charging directly toward Shohoku's basket.
Just as Sendoh reached the edge of the paint, a red silhouette shot out from the side.
Rukawa Kaede had cut in front of him, blocking his path with sharp, unwavering eyes.
Sendoh's advance halted instantly.
Thump… thump… thump…
He dribbled rhythmically, eyes locked on Rukawa. A faint smile tugged at his lips—mischievous, calculated.
Then his gaze slid briefly toward Koshino Hiroaki nearby, as if sending a silent signal.
At that same moment, his dribbling rhythm shifted—slightly wider, louder—and his body leaned in Koshino's direction, hinting at a pass.
Rukawa saw it.
He picked up on the tiny shift in Sendoh's eyes.
When Sendoh leaned, Rukawa instinctively slid half a step that way, lowering his center of gravity, arms spreading to intercept the incoming pass.
But—
Sendoh suddenly retracted his wrist, pulling the ball back.
Before Rukawa could readjust, Sendoh exploded forward with a sharp step, slipping past his side.
He pivoted cleanly, turning half a circle, and completely bypassed Rukawa.
Every motion was fluid, seamless—like a gust of wind.
Rukawa realized something was wrong, but he'd already shifted his weight in the wrong direction. Even correcting immediately, he was still a fraction too late. His fingertips grazed Sendoh's jersey, but that was all.
Sendoh broke free and, within moments, reached Shohoku's restricted area.
Just as he jumped for a layup, another defender burst in from behind.
Mitsui Hisashi—
He lunged in front of Sendoh, arm outstretched.
But such a blunt defense was nothing to Sendoh.
With a subtle shift of his feet, he switched hands, rose into the air, and executed a smooth fadeaway layup—completely avoiding Mitsui's block.
The ball rolled gracefully off his fingertips—
and dropped through the net.
Mitsui clicked his tongue in frustration. He had sprinted back at full speed, yet still couldn't stop it.
Shohoku immediately launched a counterattack.
Miyagi Ryota bent low over the ball, sprinting across half court—
Only to see Ake step into his path.
Miyagi's chest tightened. He scanned Ake's stance, searching desperately for an opening.
But Ake wasn't even in a defensive posture.
He simply stood there—relaxed, upright, not even lowering his center of gravity.
Yet that calmness made Miyagi's heart sink.
A cold bead of sweat slid down his forehead.
'Why do I have such a bad feeling…?'
Something in him screamed not to act rashly.
He glanced around, checking his teammates' positions, debating whether to slow the pace.
Thump… thump…
To the audience, Miyagi had sprinted aggressively from the backcourt—
only to freeze the moment he faced Ake.
From full speed to a dead stop.
The contrast was too strange. People in the stands whispered.
In the press area—
Click.
Rukia captured the moment with her camera.
She watched the confrontation and murmured, "I really admire his courage. Facing Ake-kun head-on… that's no easy task."
She could already guess what was about to happen.
Beside her stood Aida Yayoi and her assistant, Nakamura Taizo.
Aida overheard her whisper and glanced at Ruri's Ryonan jacket with curiosity.
"Excuse me," she asked, "are you from Ryonan High School?"
Rukia turned, saw Aida's media badge, and nodded politely. "Yes, I am."
Aida's eyes dropped to the small badge on Ruri's chest.
Ryonan High School • Press Club
"Oh, so you're in the Press Club!" Aida smiled, suddenly understanding. "That explains why you're here."
Back in her day, basketball wasn't nearly as popular as baseball or soccer. Seeing younger students still passionate about it made her nostalgic.
She leaned in warmly. "Actually, I'm your senior. I also went to Ryonan—and I was in the Press Club too."
Rukia's eyes widened with pleasant surprise. "Really? What a coincidence!"
Aida grinned. "It's fate."
Then her curiosity shifted. "By the way, I heard what you said earlier… You know Ake?"
Rukia nodded. "Yes. We joined Ryonan at the same time, and we actually knew each other before that."
"Ohh?" Aida raised a brow. "So you two must be pretty close."
Rukia paused.
'Are we?'
She genuinely wasn't sure.
Aida read her expression instantly.
Ah—
'So this girl likes him.'
With a knowing smile, she shifted the topic. "I'm curious though. Why did you say facing Ake isn't easy?"
At that question, Rukia's eyes lit up again, all hesitation gone. A proud smile tugged at her lips.
"Sohoku's number 7? He's no match for Ake-kun."
"Oh? Sounds like you have a lot of confidence in him."
"Of course," Rukia answered without hesitation. "Ake-kun is the strongest."
Aida's eyes bulged comically, like a manga character with tiny dot pupils.
'This girl… only she would think that!'
But before she could tease her—
Clap!
A sharp, crisp sound cut through the arena.
Both girls instantly turned toward the court.
There—
Ake and Miyagi had already passed each other.
One in front.
One behind.
But Miyagi's hands were empty.
And Ake—
held the ball.
In that frozen moment, time seemed to stop.