The moment Mike received the ball, he turned inward and drove without hesitation. Rukawa Kaede immediately slid sideways to cut him off.
For the sake of his pride, Rukawa's defense was razor-sharp.
But Mike's offense this time was fueled by sheer determination. He didn't bother with fakes or hesitation—he was going to force his way through no matter what.
"Bang!"
Their bodies collided head-on. The slender Rukawa staggered a few steps back, and Mike seized the opening to charge straight toward the basket. Akagi stepped in for help defense, while Rukawa gritted his teeth and gave chase. The two surrounded Mike—one in front, one behind.
Still, Mike powered through, ignoring everything in his path. His eyes locked onto Akagi.
He wanted revenge. He wanted to erase the humiliation from earlier—with a dunk.
Planting his right foot firmly, Mike sprang upward like a rocket, his head nearly level with the rim.
The crowd gasped in awe.
"Is he going for a dunk?!"
Akagi's brow furrowed. He was impressed by Mike's vertical leap, but this was his domain—the paint. There was no way he'd retreat.
He gathered his strength, leapt high, and raised both arms as if spiking a volleyball.
"Bang!"
The two collided mid-air. Mike's momentum abruptly stopped, his body frozen mid-flight. Seeing he couldn't push forward, he forced his right hand down hard to finish the dunk anyway.
But Akagi wouldn't yield. His hand struck Mike's wrist.
Slap!
The ball slipped out of Mike's grip.
Beep!
The whistle blew—foul on Akagi. Mike headed to the free-throw line, but what he really wanted wasn't two points—it was redemption.
"Damn it… just a little more," Mike muttered, rubbing his wrist, eyes filled with frustration.
From the sideline, Nango studied him, then glanced at Rukawa. Determination is good, he thought, but it's useless when the game's already under control.
Still, he knew Rukawa must be boiling inside—barely touching the ball on offense yet having to guard Mike on every possession.
Maybe I should give him a few touches…
Rukawa, meanwhile, was seething. In the past, he would've demanded the ball from Nango without hesitation. But after that one-on-one match, something inside him changed. He hesitated—perhaps even felt embarrassed.
At the line, Mike missed one of his free throws. Akagi grabbed the rebound and passed it to Nango, who smoothly brought it upcourt.
Mike stayed glued to him. He believed his defense was solid—after all, Nango hadn't been scoring much lately, only setting up his teammates.
He didn't realize that was exactly Nango's style. Whenever the opponent's ace marked him, he focused on orchestrating plays, giving his teammates room to shine.
At the top of the arc, Nango suddenly lobbed the ball to Rukawa.
Rukawa blinked in surprise. He had expected another pass to Sakuragi. He couldn't tell what Nango was thinking—had he forgotten their duel? Or did he just not care?
As Rukawa hesitated, Seiji lunged in for a steal. That snapped Rukawa back to reality. He sidestepped smoothly, avoiding the reach.
Now's not the time to think.
He sized Seiji up carefully, scanning the floor. The court was wide open, but Ebina and Mike kept glancing over, ready to help on defense.
Rukawa decided to post up.
Backing Seiji down step by step, he forced him out of position. The shorter defender struggled to resist and was pushed just outside the paint.
Then Rukawa's shoulders began to sway.
Nadaka Hikaru braced himself under the rim, ready for the rebound. Seiji also knew a shot was coming but couldn't tell which direction Rukawa would turn.
Rukawa chose a quick front spin—then rose for a jumper.
Swish!
The net snapped cleanly.
Seiji and Nadaka exchanged helpless glances. One couldn't stop it, and the other couldn't help.
That was the weakness of the Tsurumi Brothers—their lack of defensive physicality. Even with help, there were moments they simply couldn't handle players like Rukawa.
Ryokufu attacked again, but Nadaka had already lost his fighting spirit. The ball naturally went to Mike.
He continued to use his body to overpower Rukawa. Once again, Rukawa felt how weak he still was. Every collision left him reeling.
He regretted not starting strength training earlier. If I had, I wouldn't be getting bullied like this.
Akagi rotated over again. Mike jumped from the same spot, same motion—going for another dunk.
Didn't learn your lesson? Akagi thought, launching himself to meet him.
But this time, Mike smirked mid-air. He pulled the ball back and passed it to Nadaka, who laid it in cleanly.
Mike exhaled. So that's it… Anger won't win games. It's useless.
On the next possession, Nango passed to Rukawa again.
Sakuragi instantly complained, raising his fist. "Nango! You liar! You said you'd pass to me!"
Nango only smiled, pretending not to hear.
"Hey! Don't ignore me, Nango! You big liar!" Sakuragi shouted, making everyone cringe.
How embarrassing… Mike thought bitterly. Is he really taking this so lightly?
Meanwhile, Rukawa—finally happy to touch the ball again—looked noticeably more relaxed.
Childish… Nango sighed inwardly. He's like a cat that just found a toy.
Rukawa backed Seiji down once more and scored easily.
On the other side, Mike used his drives to dish assists, but Shohoku soon read his patterns. Ryokufu's offense began to falter, and the gap widened.
When the halftime buzzer sounded, Shohoku led 47–32.
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