Ryonan scored again.
Many sharp-eyed spectators had already noticed it.
The once tight, back-and-forth score was slowly starting to drift apart.
Shohoku's pressure was steadily increasing.
It was Shohoku's turn to attack.
Rukawa Kaede dribbled forward, advancing steadily into Ryonan's half of the court.
Sendoh immediately stuck close, mirroring his movements with agile footwork, ready to cut off any breakthrough at a moment's notice.
But Rukawa's next move made Sendoh pause for a split second.
Rukawa sharply dipped his shoulder to the left, faking a drive, and Sendoh instinctively shifted his weight to match it.
Just as Sendoh adjusted, Rukawa flicked his wrist, sending the ball skimming across the floor in a swift, precise bounce pass aimed at Mitsui Hisashi, who was moving diagonally backward to receive it.
Mitsui was already prepared, feet steady, arms outstretched, ready to catch the rolling ball.
But a second before his fingertips touched it—
A hand suddenly reached in from the side and snatched the ball away.
It was Ake.
He had somehow circled behind Mitsui, cutting off the passing lane with perfect timing.
"What—?"
Both Rukawa and Mitsui froze, pupils constricting in shock.
No one had expected Ake to appear there and intercept the pass so cleanly.
Mitsui didn't have time to think. His body moved on instinct.
He lunged toward Ake, reaching to steal the ball back.
Bang… bang… bang…
Ake dribbled calmly, his expression unchanging. As Mitsui swiped at the ball, Ake smoothly shifted it to his other hand with a subtle flick of the wrist, then slid his feet just enough to evade Mitsui's reach.
Mitsui refused to give up. He quickly adjusted his stance, ready to press forward again.
But as he lifted his hand—
He froze.
Ake's hands were empty.
The orange basketball had vanished.
"What…?"
Mitsui's eyes widened in disbelief.
Where was the ball?
He had clearly seen it just a moment ago—
Then a bounce echoed across the court.
A basketball hitting the floor.
But the sound came from somewhere completely different.
Mitsui's chest tightened. A sinking feeling crept up his spine.
He slowly turned toward the sound.
On the other side of the three-point line—
Koshino Hiroaki stood with his arms extended in a follow-through motion.
The bounce he'd heard… was from Koshino's release.
The next second—
The basketball traced a smooth arc through the air.
Swish.
Straight through the hoop.
"Damn it…" Mitsui hissed through clenched teeth, furious at himself and stunned at Ake's timing.
He hadn't even seen how or when the pass had happened.
It was too fast. Too clean.
Another possession began.
Ake brought the ball up the court, crossing into Shohoku territory.
Miyagi Ryota and Mitsui shared a quick look, then immediately double-teamed him.
Facing the two of them, Ake still showed no hint of pressure.
He raised his hand, making a convincing motion like he intended to pass to the right.
Instinctively, Mitsui moved half a step in that direction, extending his arm to block the passing lane.
In that exact instant, Ake's eyes sharpened.
The rightward passing motion continued seamlessly— but his wrist suddenly hooked forward, retracting force with precise control.
Swish—
The basketball shot like lightning through the narrow gap between Miyagi and Mitsui.
"What!?"
Both defenders froze on the spot.
It had clearly looked like a right-side pass—so how did it suddenly change direction?
On the other side of the court, Sakuragi Hanamichi had been about to shout at them for failing to stop Ake— but when he saw the ball's direction, his eyes widened too.
That side of the court was empty.
Not a single Ryonan player there.
'Who was Ake passing to?'
'Did he make a mistake?'
But before he could finish the thought, a figure burst in from the sideline, sprinting into the passing lane.
Fukuda Kiccho.
Not good—
Sakuragi's heart dropped.
He took off after Fukuda without a second thought.
Fukuda cut sharply into Shohoku's paint, catching Ake's pass with perfect timing.
Without hesitation, he turned, took two steps, launched himself upward, gripping the ball with one hand, ready to hammer a dunk into the hoop.
"Don't even think about it!"
Sakuragi roared from behind, sprinting with everything he had. His hand shot forward, targeting the ball—
But he was too focused.
He didn't notice his momentum carrying his whole body into Fukuda's back.
Beep!
The referee's whistle pierced the air.
And just as it blew, Fukuda, who had hesitated mid-air because of the collision, suddenly forced the ball downward with the momentum of his jump—
Clang!
The ball bounced off the rim and through the net.
Damn it—
Sakuragi watched helplessly as the ball dropped through, fists clenched in frustration and panic.
Before he could recover, the referee's voice echoed:
"Shohoku number 10. Defensive foul. Basket counts. One free throw."
"What!?"
Sakuragi froze in disbelief, pointing at himself.
"When did I foul!? I was trying to block him!"
Fukuda released the rim and landed, giving Sakuragi a single look.
A cold, disdainful look—mocking his clumsiness and impulsiveness.
Sakuragi's blood boiled instantly. "That bastard… looking down on me…"
Miyagi grabbed his arm just in time, stopping him from charging forward.
At the free-throw line, Fukuda exhaled deeply, raised the ball, and shot.
Swish.
A clean 2+1.
Ryonan earned three more points.
With multiple setbacks piling up in quick succession, Shohoku's momentum crumbled further.
Five minutes of the second half had already passed.
The scoreboard numbers were harsh.
Ryonan 69 – 55 Shohoku.
The gap had quietly widened to 14 points.
Beep—
A timeout was called.
Coach Anzai slowly rose from the bench. His expression was gentle as always, but a seriousness flickered in his eyes.
Shohoku's situation was undeniably bad.
Not only had the point gap stretched to 14, but Sakuragi had also been baited into a foul.
If this continued, things would only get worse.
He had to call a timeout to stabilize them.
On Shohoku's bench, the players walked over with their heads down, faces clouded with discouragement.
The repeated scoring against them—and being targeted—had crushed their morale.
Ayako stepped forward, wanting to comfort them.
"Everyone…"
But she paused.
She didn't know what to say.
At that moment, Coach Anzai walked up and spoke calmly:
"Ryonan's strategy right now is to slowly seal off all of our hope."
"What…?"
Akagi and the others looked up, startled.
They only felt things were going badly—they hadn't realized the opponent's intent was this ruthless.
Anzai nodded slightly.
"Their style right now is unusual. It's not just basketball—it's like they're playing chess."
"Chess…?"
Sakuragi blinked, confused.
"What does chess have to do with basketball?"
Anzai turned to him.
"Especially you, Sakuragi. They're targeting you."
Everyone's heads snapped toward Sakuragi at once.
He froze, staring blankly.
"Me? Why me?"
"They're deliberately luring you into fouls," Anzai said.
"From Ake's provocation to their number 13's taunting—it's all designed to make you act impulsively. They want you to rack up fouls and get removed from the game."
"That damn… sneaky… old man…"
Sakuragi bristled, glaring toward Ryonan's bench.
He looked ready to sprint over and give Coach Taoka another 'Thousand Years of Pain.'
"Sakuragi. Calm down." Anzai pressed a hand on his shoulder.
"But think about it—this also means you have something that threatens their plan."
"Huh?"
Not only Sakuragi, but Akagi, Miyagi, Mitsui, and Rukawa all gave the same expression— dead-fish eyes.
Akagi: "What could he possibly have? A lack of common sense?"
Miyagi: "Stupidity…?"
Mitsui: "Being brainless?"
Rukawa: "Idiot."
Sakuragi scratched his head, uncomfortable with everyone staring.
"Quit looking at me! I'm a genius, okay!? That's all!"
Anzai let out a small sigh and picked up the strategy board. His tone shifted, becoming firm.
"All right. Our plan now is—"
…
On Ryonan's bench—
Koshino sat down, gulped a sports drink, and exhaled.
"Shohoku is way tougher than we thought. I didn't expect two more people to change their whole strength like this."
Ikegami nodded.
"Good thing Captain Ake warned us before the game. Otherwise we would've been in real trouble earlier."
Uozumi didn't join the conversation.
He sat quietly, staring at Shohoku's bench— specifically at Akagi.
His brows furrowed slightly.
Their clashes earlier had pushed him to his limits, yet he still felt strained every time.
Not because Akagi was simply stronger.
Their power, height, and low-post skills were nearly equal—each collision like two iron towers slamming together.
But Uozumi knew the truth:
This was him after Ake's special training.
If he hadn't received that tailor-made strength and footwork regimen to fix his weaknesses…
He would have been completely overwhelmed by Akagi by now.
…
In the reporter's area—
Rukia snapped several photos of Ryonan's bench, then smirked proudly at Aida Yayoi.
"Well, Ms. Yayoi? I told you—Shohoku can't match Ake-kun."
Aida looked at the scoreboard—69 to 55—and raised an eyebrow.
"I really didn't expect this. It was neck-and-neck earlier… How did the gap grow so fast?"
Her gaze shifted to Ake.
She replayed the recent rounds in her mind, and her suspicion deepened.
What Ake did wasn't flashy.
No fancy dribbling, no showy moves.
Even his passes looked simple.
He just moved and acted at exactly the right times—
Intercepting crucial passes, assisting teammates in their sweet spots, baiting Sakuragi's fouls perfectly.
It was like watching a blade with no edge— yet every strike hit the weak point with surgical precision, silently shifting the entire flow of the game.
Beep—
The timeout ended.
The game resumed.