"Shut up!"
"How could This Genius lose face?!"
Akagi finally hauled himself up, leaning on Ayako as they headed toward the locker room. As he passed Uozumi, he came to a dead stop.
"Don't think you've won just because I'm off the floor, Uozumi," Akagi dropped the words like ice.
Uozumi clenched his massive fists, his voice low and resonant. "I'll defeat your substitute fair and square. I'll be waiting for you to get back."
Akagi vanished into the tunnel. Shohoku had lost their pillar in the paint.
The atmosphere in the gymnasium shifted instantly. On the sidelines, Taoka Moeichi let out a long, pent-up breath. It felt like a cheap break, but in high-stakes basketball, this was the perfect opening for a Ryonan counter-offensive.
"Listen up! Without Akagi, Shohoku's interior is a vacuum!" Taoka barked, spittle flying as he waved his fists. "Uozumi! Attack the rim with everything you've got! Tear that red-haired brat apart!"
The whistle blew. The game resumed.
Without Akagi to act as a dam, Uozumi Jun transformed into a relentless beast in the paint.
Bang!
Uozumi snatched the entry pass, spun with a ferocious power move that sent Sakuragi stumbling aside, and detonated a one-handed slam.
69:68. Ryonan took the lead.
"Dammit! That Monkey Boss is too strong!" Sakuragi gasped, rubbing his aching chest and grimacing.
"Idiot. Your center of gravity is too high," a cold voice drifted past. "Do you have a pig's brain?"
Rukawa Kaede walked past, his fox-like eyes dripping with disdain.
"What did you say, you Dead Fox?!" Sakuragi bristled instantly, slamming his forehead against Rukawa's. "If that had been you, you'd have been sent flying into the third row!"
"Idiot." Rukawa simply shoved Sakuragi's face away.
On the next possession, Rukawa took charge. Facing Sendoh's elite defense, he didn't even look for a pass. He went for the jugular. A lightning-fast series of between-the-legs dribbles set up a wide, explosive crossover.
He was so fast that even Sendoh was caught half-a-step behind. Rukawa charged the paint, met Uozumi's help-defense at the rim, and executed a fluid, double-clutch reverse layup in mid-air.
Swish!
69:70. Shohoku answered back.
Rukawa landed and shot a sidelong glance at Sakuragi. He didn't say a word, but his eyes were a loud mockery: This is how you play the game.
"Waaah! I'm gonna lose it!" Sakuragi hopped in place, fuming. "Give me the ball! I'm gonna score too!"
But Ryonan gave them no room to breathe. Sendoh Akira stepped up. He surveyed the chaos on the court, a calm, practiced smile curling his lips.
"Don't panic, everyone," Sendoh said, holding up a single finger. "Let's just get one more bucket."
Ryonan attacked. Sendoh crossed half-court and suddenly hit the jets against Rukawa. He looked like he was gearing up for a pass—no, it was a fake! The moment Rukawa's weight shifted, Sendoh was gone, slipping past him like a gust of wind.
"Sakuragi! Help defense!" Hayashi Rin shouted from the perimeter.
Even without the warning, Sakuragi had already launched himself forward. "Don't you dare look down on me, Spiky Head!"
Sakuragi leaped with a vertical that seemed to blot out the sun, aiming for a monstrous block. The crowd gasped at his incredible hang time. But Sendoh didn't blink. He hung in the air with Sakuragi, waiting with calculated patience. Only as Sakuragi began his descent did Sendoh finish the play.
A posterizing dunk.
BOOM!
Sendoh hammered it home with one hand, the force of the play sending Sakuragi crashing to the floor.
71:70. The arena erupted. "SENDOH! SENDOH! SENDOH!" The cheers hit the court like a tsunami.
Sendoh landed and looked down at the fallen Sakuragi. His smile remained harmless, but his words felt like a plunge into a frozen lake. "Sakuragi... jumping high isn't enough. Basketball isn't that simple."
Sakuragi stared blankly at Sendoh's retreating back, his fists clenching until his knuckles popped. This wasn't just a basket; it was a total crushing of his spirit.
The next few minutes were Shohoku's darkest hour. Without Akagi, their defense was a tiger with its teeth pulled out. Uozumi used every bit of his height and weight to wreak havoc. Hook shots, put-backs, drawing fouls—he did it all.
Sakuragi fought with everything he had, but against the veteran Uozumi, he was a headless fly buzzing into a windshield.
"Foul! Red Number 10! Pushing!"
The whistle was relentless. Sakuragi was sitting on three fouls, gasping for air, his jersey soaked through with sweat. The gap widened at a terrifying pace.
75:70. 79:72. 83:74.
Two minutes left. Ryonan led by 9. In high school ball, a 9-point deficit with two minutes on the clock and your starting center in the locker room is a death sentence.
"Timeout!" Coach Anzai finally called for a break.
The Shohoku players dragged themselves to the bench, looking like they'd been fished out of a river. Despair was starting to settle in.
"Dammit... dammit!" Sakuragi punched a chair, a towel draped over his head, his frame trembling. He was supposed to be the secret weapon. He was supposed to be a Genius. Instead, he'd been humiliated by Sendoh and Uozumi in turns.
Hayashi Rin slumped at the very end of the bench, tilting his head back toward the harsh stadium lights. He was exhausted. Every muscle was screaming, and his lungs felt like they were filled with hot coals.
Is this what they call youth? he thought. It's really... smelly and exhausting.
As he took a long pull from his water bottle, he shifted his focus to the flickering interface in his mind.
[System Notification]