[System Notification]
[New Template Synchronized: Midorima Shintaro (SG)]
[Skill Unlocked: Full-Range Shot (Level: Three-Point Line Arc)]
[Skill Description: Provided the shooting form remains undisturbed, the hit rate within the three-point arc is 100%.]
"Midorima Shintaro, huh..." Hayashi Rin's lips curled into a thin, sharp smile that left Ayako shivering with a sense of impending doom.
"Man proposes, God disposes," he muttered to himself. This really is the perfect skill for a slacker. No bruising drives, no fighting for position in the paint. I can just stand here and watch the scoreboard tick up. Truly, the peak of lazy-man's basketball.
The whistle shrilled, and the timeout ended. Ryonan retreated into a tight defensive shell inside the three-point line, their eyes locked on Hayashi. Sendoh stood at the top of the arc, his knees bent, his focus absolute.
Will he drive? Or kick it out to Rukawa? Sendoh shifted his weight, playing the percentages.
Hayashi Rin drifted across half-court. He came to a halt two full steps behind the three-point line—a distance usually considered a "dead zone" where defenders could afford to sag off. Sendoh took that half-step back, ready to wall off the lane.
Then, the world slowed down.
Hayashi Rin squared his shoulders. With an air of supreme nonchalance, he brought the ball up. His left hand guided, his right hand supported—a textbook form so perfect it looked like a diagram from a coaching manual.
"What is he doing?!" Taoka Moeichi screamed from the sidelines. "Shooting from there? Has he lost his mind?!"
Uozumi scoffed from the low post. "That's an impossible dist—"
He jumped. It wasn't an explosive leap, but the hang time felt eternal. At the very apex, Hayashi flicked his wrist. The ball didn't just fly; it launched. It soared so high it seemed destined to graze the rafters of the stadium dome. Every head in the arena tilted back in unison, tracking the orange sphere as it traced a mathematical, ultra-high arc through the air.
Sendoh whipped his head around, a cold dread seizing his heart. It couldn't be...
Swish!
The sound wasn't just a basket; it was an explosion in the silence. The ball snapped through the net with a crisp, violent purity. For two seconds, the stadium was a tomb. Then, the roof nearly blew off.
"IT WENT IN?! From that height?!" "Did he just orbit the moon with that ball?!"
Coach Taoka looked like a man being strangled, his trembling finger pointed at Hayashi. "A fluke... it has to be a fluke!"
Hikoichi's pen clattered to the floor. "Unbelievable! How do I even check the data on a shot like that?!"
The referee, shaken, finally signaled the bucket. 83:77. The lead had evaporated to six.
Hayashi Rin landed softly and adjusted his non-existent glasses. He caught Sendoh's stunned gaze and let out a long, bored yawn. "My apologies. My hand slipped. But tell me, Sendoh-kun... have you figured out how you're going to lose yet?"
BANG! The locker room doors flew open. A massive figure emerged, a thick white bandage wrapped around his head like a crown of thorns. Akagi Takenori walked back onto the court, blood still staining his cheek, radiating a pressure that made the air feel heavy.
"Gorilla!" Sakuragi's eyes shone with the zeal of a true believer.
Akagi ignored the noise, his eyes fixed on the scoreboard and then on Hayashi. A flicker of rare approval crossed his grim face. "Good work."
He subbed back in, his palms meeting in a thunderous clap-clap. "We haven't lost yet! Shohoku, ATTACK!"
With Akagi anchoring the middle, the "Ironclad Wall" was back. Sakuragi felt the weight lift off his shoulders. He stuck his tongue out at Uozumi. "Hey, Monkey Boss! Your real opponent is back! This Genius is taking over!"
Ryonan scrambled to respond. Sendoh's easy-going smile was gone, replaced by a gaze as sharp as a surgical blade. "Rukawa Kaede," he murmured.
Rukawa didn't answer. He just lowered his center of gravity, sweat dripping from his chin, his eyes burning with a freezing blue flame. "I'll stop you."
The two collided like twin bolts of lightning. Sneakers shrieked against the hardwood. Muscles slammed into muscles. Rukawa matched Sendoh's explosive first step, but Sendoh was a master of the subtle. With a behind-the-back handle that created just an inch of daylight, Sendoh rose for a silky pull-up.
Swish. 85:77.
Rukawa said nothing, but the fury in his eyes intensified.
Transition. Hayashi Rin brought the ball up, but this time, Koshino and Uekusa pounced on him in a frantic double-team before he could even reach the arc.
"TRIPLE TEAM HIM IF YOU HAVE TO! DON'T LET HIM BREATHE!" Taoka shrieked. That high-arc shot was now his personal poltergeist.
Hayashi Rin sighed, trapped between the two aggressive defenders. "Seriously? You won't even let me slack off for a minute? Fine... you're forcing my hand."
He stopped dead, took a deep breath, and bellowed toward the paint:
"SAKURAGI!"