"We won!!!"
Sakuragi Hanamichi threw both hands into the air, beginning his victory celebration a few seconds too early. "This Genius's first victory! Wahaha!"
The Shohoku supporters in the stands erupted, fans embracing each other in disbelief.
"Idiot! It's not over yet!"
A sharp, low shout cut through the noise. Rukawa Kaede was already bolting toward the backcourt like a panicked cheetah. Hayashi Rin, too, hadn't paused for a single celebratory gesture. The moment the free throw snapped the net, he had already pivoted and sprinted.
He had seen Sendoh's eyes. That man's spirit wasn't broken yet.
"Quick! Get the ball in!" Taoka Moeichi was hopping mad on the sidelines, nearly lunging onto the court.
Uozumi Jun snatched the ball. Without even waiting to set his feet behind the baseline, he hurled a desperate, full-court overhead pass. The ball streaked through the air like a cannonball, crossing the half-court line in a blur.
Sendoh Akira caught it in stride.
4 seconds remaining.
He didn't hesitate for a heartbeat. Accelerating the instant his fingers touched the leather, he sliced into Shohoku's interior like a bolt of blue lightning.
"STOP HIM!!!" Akagi's roar shook the backboard.
But Sendoh was a blur of pure willpower. He blew past the celebrating Sakuragi and the trailing Kogure. Only the rim stood before him.
3 seconds left. If he made this layup, Ryonan would snatch victory with a buzzer-beater.
"Don't even think about it!"
A dark shadow lunged from the periphery. Rukawa Kaede! Gritting his teeth, Rukawa squeezed out the final drop of adrenaline in his system, hurling his body into Sendoh's path.
Rukawa Kaede... A flicker of genuine admiration flashed in Sendoh's eyes, but his hands didn't shake. A sudden stutter-step, a sharp change of direction, and Rukawa was beaten by half a body length.
Sendoh took flight.
Just then, a second shadow rose on his flank. Hayashi Rin!
"Seriously... do you have to make me work overtime until the very last second?" Hayashi's face was a mask of pure exhaustion, but he jumped. He didn't have much lift left, but his long arms perfectly shadowed Sendoh's release point.
Rukawa on the left. Hayashi on the right. The Twin Demons at the Gate.
In mid-air, Sendoh was sandwiched. No lane to pass. No clean angle for the layup.
1 second left.
I have to shoot. Sendoh forced a violent twist of his torso in mid-air, using his incredible core strength to flick the ball through the microscopic gap between their reaching hands.
A high-difficulty, fading floater. It was a shot as beautiful as a painting, born of pure desperation. The entire stadium stopped breathing. Every eye followed the orange sphere.
The ball clipped the front of the rim. Boing. It bounced straight up. It fell back down. It hit the iron again, circling the rim in a slow, agonizing loop.
Finally... it spilled out.
BEEEEE-EEEEEP!!!
The final whistle wailed. The red light on the backboard flared. The score was frozen: 89–90.
The sound of the ball hitting the floor was instantly drowned out by a deafening, soul-shaking roar from the crowd.
"We won..." Akagi Takenori stared at the scoreboard, his eyes instantly turning bloodshot.
The Shohoku that always lost. The Shohoku that everyone ridiculed. They had just toppled Ryonan—last year's top four.
On the court, Sendoh landed and stared at the rolling basketball for a long, quiet moment. Then, he let out a helpless chuckle and scratched his spiky head. "Ah... we lost. What a shame."
Though he called it a shame, there was no darkness in his eyes—only a bright, burning anticipation for the next time they met.
On the other side of the court, the instant the whistle blew, Hayashi Rin collapsed as if someone had pulled the bones out of his body.
"Finally... I'm off the clock. System, I want an iced Coke. Immediately. Right now!" He lay spread-eagled, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"MASTER!!!"
Before Hayashi could even draw a full breath, a mountain of muscle crashed down on him. Sakuragi Hanamichi pounced, smearing tears and snot all over Hayashi's jersey. "We won! I am a Genius! Wahahaha!"
"Get off... can't... breathe..." Hayashi's eyes rolled back. He had escaped Sendoh's buzzer-beater only to be crushed to death by his own disciple.
Rukawa Kaede stood nearby, hands on his knees, gasping for air. Sweat pooled on the floor beneath him. He glanced at the heap of Sakuragi and Hayashi, then looked over at Sendoh. He clenched his fist tight. Next time... I'll win decisively.
On the sidelines, Coach Taoka stood paralyzed, the broken half of his tactical board slipping from his numb fingers. "Lost... I actually lost to Shohoku... No, I lost to..."
His gaze landed on the lazy figure of Number 16 lying on the floor. The one who looked the least motivated had been the one to deal every fatal blow.
"Hayashi Rin..." Taoka gritted his teeth, but he couldn't deny the truth. "Shohoku is going to turn the world upside down this year."
Coach Anzai sat in his chair, a soft ho-ho-ho escaping him. His glasses reflected the gym lights, hiding the sharp, satisfied glint in his eyes. "It seems this summer will be very interesting indeed."
Hayashi Rin finally managed to shove Sakuragi off him. He sat up, feeling like his body was held together by scotch tape and prayer. In his mind, the system chimed.
[Congratulations! Mission Complete] [Reward Issued: All Attributes +1]
A small smile touched Hayashi's lips. Not just for the stats, but for the real prize. I don't have to mop the floor anymore. Life is good.
The echo of the whistle still hummed in the Ryonan Gymnasium. That bright red 89–90 was a miracle etched into the retinas of everyone present.
After the initial explosion of noise, the players lined up at mid-court. Though only a practice match, the lingering intensity was thicker than a playoff game.
Akagi Takenori stood at the head of the line, the bandage on his head soaked with sweat and dried blood. He looked like a general returning from a massacre. Opposite him was the equally exhausted Uozumi Jun. The two giants locked eyes. The hostility was gone, replaced by a deep, grudging "recognition."
"You won this round, Akagi," Uozumi said, his voice low and raspy. "But in the Prefectural Tournament, I'm taking it back with interest."
He extended a massive, calloused palm. Akagi grasped it, giving it a bone-crushing squeeze. "I'm ready whenever you are. But the result will be the same. Shohoku wins."
The line moved on. Finally, Rukawa Kaede stood before Sendoh Akira. Persistence was written in every line of Rukawa's face. Sendoh, however, had regained his effortless, lazy smile. He held out his hand.
"Nice game, Rukawa. That last defensive stop was beautiful."
Rukawa stared at the hand. He didn't shake it.
Slap!
Rukawa raised his hand and delivered a sharp, stinging slap to Sendoh's palm. It wasn't a high-five; it was a ritual of war. The players around them froze in shock.
Rukawa pulled his hand back and spoke with icy clarity: "Next time, I will defeat you directly. Not by luck. Not by teamwork. Just one-on-one."
Without waiting for a response, he walked away. Sendoh looked at his reddened palm, stunned for a second, before his smile widened.
"What an uncute junior," Sendoh murmured. "But... very interesting."