Doo…
The whistle cut through the gym, signaling the end of the first half.
The scoreboard read Ryonan 56 – Shohoku 27.
A 29-point lead.
The score surprised everyone. No one had expected Shohoku to hold the gap this much by halftime. Even more unexpected, from the moment Takenori Akagi's dunk had ignited the team, Shohoku had awakened a fighting spirit that transformed the one-sided match into a fiercely contested back-and-forth battle.
Ryonan's rhythm, previously flawless, had faltered. Shohoku's sudden counterattacks, fueled by steals and crucial rebounds, had shocked them like lightning splitting dark clouds. Takenori Akagi repeatedly fought through Uozumi's defense in the paint, turning and putting back shots to keep Shohoku in the game. Rukawa Kaede drove like a drawn sword, executing pull-up jumpers with icy precision. Kogure, Yasuda, and Shiozaki pushed past hesitation, passing and shooting at the perfect moments.
Defensively, Shohoku gave everything, diving for balls, tipping them toward teammates, refusing to yield.
Although the score difference remained daunting, the suffocating despair had eased.
Ryonan's bench.
Uozumi and his teammates returned from the court, no trace of the casual disdain they had at the start of the game. Sweat dripped from their temples, towels wiped their necks, but their movements carried solemnity. They finally understood what Akashi meant: "Shohoku is not as weak as you think."
Shohoku's strength wasn't flashy; it was their indomitable will, their refusal to bow even when ground into the dirt. That resilience, like weeds, could not be burned away.
Akashi's instructions had kept his team cautious, steady, and in control. Yet Shohoku, through hard-fought plays, had clawed the game into a state where the score difference didn't spiral completely out of control.
Koshino Hiroaki wiped his face with a towel, voice low. "I really didn't expect Shohoku to be this tenacious."
Ryoji Ikegami nodded, gulping water. "Yes. This isn't a team that'll be eliminated in the first round."
Uozumi remained silent, eyes fixed across the court. He could feel the pressure growing; guarding Akagi in the second half would be no easier.
Then Akashi spoke, voice calm, almost casual: "In the second half, there's no need to deliberately widen the score. Just maintain the current lead."
His gaze swept across his teammates. "Shohoku's strength is gradually recovering. However… only Takenori Akagi and Rukawa Kaede are capable of consistently scoring."
The Ryonan players exchanged subtle glances. True. These two carried Shohoku's offense.
Akashi continued: "In the second half, focus defense on them. No need to guard the others; if necessary… let them shoot."
Coach Taoka Moichi's brow furrowed. Strategically, Akashi's approach was flawless. Target the core threats, and Shohoku's hope would vanish. He allowed himself a quiet sigh, thinking, Who told Anzai's team not to have a player like Akashi…?
Shohoku's bench.
Ayako clapped, voice bright. "Everyone did great! We're behind, but we're regaining our footing. Let's push in the second half!"
"Yes!" the team responded, unified.
Kogure murmured, eyes on the scoreboard: "29 points… but somehow, I don't feel panicked anymore."
Akagi clenched his fists, white-knuckled, determination burning. "The game isn't over yet! Second half—we fight for every point! Do you hear me?!"
"Yes!" The response was stronger, unified, carrying the fire of resolve.
Anzai Mitsuyoshi tapped his knee thoughtfully. His gaze fell on Sakuragi Hanamichi.
"Sakuragi… you'll replace Shiozaki in the second half."
"Huh?!" Sakuragi froze, eyes wide as if he'd heard a miracle. "Old Man… you mean… I can play?! Is it true?!"
Anzai let out a low, measured laugh, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Ayako clapped him on the shoulder. "Look at you! Of course it's true!"
Sakuragi's eyes shone with tears of excitement. "Yes! My secret weapon is finally unleashed!"
"Alright, don't get sentimental," Ayako said, laughing. "Warm up—the game is starting!"
The team turned to watch, surprised. Sakuragi had barely been playing for a month, yet he was now on the court.
Doo…
The whistle signaled the second half. Shohoku's players stepped onto the court.
Suddenly, a loud, unrestrained voice boomed:
"Hahaha! It's finally my time to shine! Ryonan, watch your necks—I'm coming for you!"
It was Sakuragi Hanamichi. Hands on hips, head back, laughing as if victory were already his.
The arena went silent, stunned by his audacious display.
Ryonan's players collectively turned toward him, puzzled.
Sakuragi strutted forward, pointing at Sendoh Akira. "Especially you, Broom Head! Thanks for giving Rukawa such a lesson! Now… your troubles are mine!"
Sendoh froze, corner of his mouth twitching. Is this guy serious?
Sakuragi patted his chest boldly. "From now on, Rukawa has nothing to do with this. I, Sakuragi Hanamichi, will handle all of you!"
Koshino scoffed. "What a loudmouth clown."
Ikegami crossed his arms, eyes disdainful. "His tongue is as reckless as ever."
Uozumi snorted, turning to Akagi with a mocking grin. "Hey, Shohoku… you really take anyone, huh?"
Akagi's face darkened like molten iron. Veins throbbed. Without a word, he strode forward, swung his large palm, and smacked Sakuragi's head.
"Bang!"
"Ow!" Sakuragi clutched his head, hopping back. "Gorilla… you hit me again…"
"Shut up," Akagi growled. "Get back to position."
Sakuragi muttered, neck shrinking. "Why so fierce… but I'll show you later."
Eventually, he slunk to his defensive spot.
Ryonan's bench.
Coach Taoka Moichi scowled. That scamp… the memory of being poked earlier still stung.
Aida Hikoichi's eyes sparkled. "Finally! Sakuragi is on! This will be exciting!"
Akashi observed Shohoku's bench calmly. Sending Sakuragi now was a gamble—unpredictable, uncontrollable. Even he could not calculate or suppress this type of player.
Akashi narrowed his eyes, but already understood. Anzai Mitsuyoshi was gambling. And Akashi would watch to see how far Sakuragi could go.
The second half began.