Beep!..
The whistle sliced through the gym, signaling the end of the first half.
The scoreboard froze at 56 to 27.
Ryonan led by 29 points.
That score stunned everyone.
Before the timeout, no one expected Shohoku to close the gap this much by halftime. And even fewer expected that after Takenori Akagi's thunderous dunk and roar, Shohoku would suddenly awaken — transforming as if their fighting spirit had been set ablaze.
What had begun as a one-sided slaughter turned into a fierce tug-of-war in the latter half of the first period.
Ryonan's rhythm was broken.
Shohoku's counterattack came out of nowhere — fierce, desperate, and alive. A few key steals, like lightning cutting through storm clouds, reignited the team's morale.
Takenori Akagi repeatedly clashed with Uozumi in the paint, muscling through for rebounds and powerful put-backs that kept Shohoku afloat.
Rukawa Kaede, like an unsheathed blade, cut through Ryonan's defense again and again — drives, jumpers, cold precision.
Even Kogure Kiminobu, Yasuda, and Shiozaki began to shed their hesitation. They passed decisively, shot confidently, and dove for every loose ball, scraping their knees but refusing to let a single chance slip by.
Though the score gap remained wide, the suffocating sense of despair had finally loosened its grip.
Ryonan Bench.
When Uozumi and his teammates returned, the arrogance they'd worn earlier had vanished.
Sweat poured down their temples, and though they wiped at it with towels, their movements carried a rare solemnity.
Now they truly understood.
They finally realized what Ake meant before the game — "Shohoku is not as weak as you think."
They had felt it firsthand.
Shohoku's strength didn't lie in fancy footwork or complicated plays.
It was in their will — that wild, unbreakable spirit that refused to bow.
Even when crushed into the dirt, they still stared back with defiance.
Like weeds that refused to die, they rose again, no matter how many times they were trampled.
After Ake's instructions, Ryonan had played more cautiously, maintaining steady offense and defense. Yet Shohoku, through sheer grit, forced turnovers and fought for rebounds, clawing to keep the gap from widening further.
"I really didn't expect Shohoku to be this tough," Koshino Hiroaki muttered, wiping his face with a towel. His voice still carried a trace of disbelief.
Ikegami Ryoji gulped down water, nodding. "Yeah. They don't play like a team that gets knocked out in the first round."
Uozumi stayed silent, his eyes fixed on Shohoku's bench.
He knew one thing — the second half against Takenori Akagi would be even harder than the first.
He could already feel the pressure building.
That was when Ake spoke, his calm voice cutting through the noise.
"In the second half, there's no need to widen the lead," he said, sitting at the edge of the bench, tone light yet commanding. "Just maintain it."
He paused, eyes sweeping over his teammates.
"Shohoku's getting their rhythm back. But… only Takenori Akagi and Rukawa Kaede can score consistently."
The Ryonan players exchanged glances.
Yes, that was true.
Since the start, those two had carried Shohoku on both ends of the floor.
Ake continued, his tone steady and cold. "In the second half, focus our defense on those two. There's no need to guard the others tightly. If they take the shot—let them."
Coach Taoka Moichi watched in silence, his brow furrowed slightly as he considered Ake's plan.
Moments later, he nodded inwardly.
Flawless. Almost perfect.
This was the most efficient way to secure victory.
Even if Shohoku still clung to a sliver of hope, once their core players were locked down, that hope would vanish completely.
Coach Taoka glanced at Ake again, a faint, complicated emotion flickering in his eyes.
This wasn't just strategy—it was strangling the opponent's comeback before it even began.
He sighed softly. "I'm sorry, Coach Anzai," he murmured under his breath. "But your team doesn't have a player like Ake."
Shohoku Bench.
"Everyone did great! We might still be behind, but we've steadied ourselves. Let's push harder in the second half!" Ayako cheered, her voice brimming with energy.
"Yes!" the players shouted together.
"Twenty-nine points, huh…" Kogure looked up at the scoreboard. The numbers were daunting, yet he didn't feel fear anymore.
Takenori Akagi stared at the same board, determination burning in his eyes.
His fists clenched tight. His heart, still raging with that unyielding fire, refused to cool.
The situation was improving — he could feel it.
Just one more push. A bit more effort, and they might just have a chance.
He lifted his head, his voice booming across the bench.
"Listen up! The game's not over yet! In the second half, we fight for every single point! Got it?!"
"Yes!" The response came stronger this time, filled with conviction.
Coach Mitsuyoshi Anzai sat quietly, fingers tapping his knee in rhythm, lost in thought. Then, slowly, he turned to look at Sakuragi Hanamichi.
"Sakuragi… you'll replace Shiozaki in the second half."
"Huh?"
Sakuragi froze, eyes wide, unsure if he'd heard right.
He pointed at himself. "Old man… you mean me? I get to play?!"
Anzai chuckled, his deep laugh echoing softly. "Ho ho ho ho…"
Ayako grinned, slapping Sakuragi on the shoulder. "Of course! The coach said so, didn't he?"
Tears welled in Sakuragi's eyes. "Finally! The genius makes his debut!"
"Alright, alright, don't cry here," Ayako laughed, pushing him toward the court. "Warm up already!"
The others turned to watch, half surprised, half amused.
They all knew Sakuragi's skill level — barely a month into basketball. But since it was the coach's decision, no one dared to object.
Beep!…
The whistle echoed again, ending halftime.
The second half began.
Shohoku's players walked back onto the court — and suddenly, a loud, arrogant voice filled the gym.
"Hahahahaha! It's finally time for this genius to shine! Ryonan, get ready — I'm coming for you!"
It was, of course, Sakuragi Hanamichi.
He strode to the front with his hands on his hips, laughing with full confidence, his face practically shouting, "Who else but me?!"
The entire gym fell silent.
Every eye turned toward him in disbelief.
Even Ryonan's players froze, expressions flat with confusion.
'Isn't that the guy who poked our coach's butt earlier?'
The more they looked, the more irritated they became.
Sakuragi, puffed up with pride, jabbed a finger toward them and shouted, "Just you wait! I'll have you all crying for your mommies!"
Then, out of nowhere, he turned toward Sendoh.
"Especially you, Spiky Head!" he yelled — before suddenly grabbing Sendoh's hand, shaking it vigorously with a grin. "But really, thanks for teaching Rukawa a lesson earlier! I owe you one!"
Sendoh blinked, completely lost. His mouth twitched. His expression said, "What is wrong with this guy?"
He looked down at his hand, as if it had just touched something cursed.
Sakuragi finally released him, puffing out his chest. "From now on, Rukawa's off the hook! You'll all be taken down by me, Sakuragi Hanamichi!"
Koshino sneered. "What a clown."
Ikegami folded his arms, scoffing. "He better watch his tongue before the wind blows it off."
Uozumi snorted. "Hey, Akagi! You really take in anyone, huh?!"
Akagi's face darkened instantly. A vein throbbed at his temple.
Without a word, he strode over and smack!—a heavy palm landed squarely on Sakuragi's head.
"OWW!" Sakuragi yelped, clutching his head. "Gorilla! You hit me again!"
"Shut up," Akagi growled. "Get to your position."
Sakuragi sulked, muttering, "So violent… you'll still need me later." But one look at Akagi's death glare sent him scurrying to his spot.
Ryonan Bench.
"That brat…" Coach Taoka's face darkened instantly at the sight of Sakuragi. The memory of that embarrassing incident earlier still made him wince.
Meanwhile, Aida Hikoichi was bouncing with excitement. "He's finally in! This is gonna be great! I can't wait to see what happens next!"
Ake's gaze lingered on Shohoku's bench, locking briefly on Coach Anzai.
'Sending Sakuragi in now… is he trying to shake things up?'
Sakuragi Hanamichi — an unpredictable factor.
He could turn the tide or blow everything up. There was no middle ground.
Even Ake, with all his foresight, couldn't predict him.
But one thing was clear — Mitsuyoshi Anzai was betting everything on him.
"Let me see just how far you can go," Ake thought silently, watching Sakuragi take his stance.
And then — the second half began.