Inside the Ryonan vs. Miuradai Arena
"Look, over there—"
"It's Fujima from Shoyo… and Hanagata!"
"I can't believe they came to watch this game too!"
At that moment, Fujima Kenji and Hanagata Toru, dressed in Shoyo High School's green basketball uniforms, appeared from the second-floor passage.
The two walked side by side with calm expressions and steady steps.
Fujima had his hands in his pockets, his gaze gliding casually across the court, while Hanagata kept his head slightly lowered, looking composed and reserved.
Under the curious stares of the crowd, coaches, and players from other schools, the Shoyo duo made their way unhurriedly through the spectators before sitting down near the railing.
There was no fanfare, no conversation, yet their sharp green uniforms and the quiet confidence they exuded drew countless subtle glances their way.
On the opposite side of the stands, another group appeared—the Shohoku basketball team.
"Look, over there… it's the Shohoku guys!"
Someone whispered in surprise.
"That tall one must be Takenori Akagi!"
"Which one's Rukawa Kaede?"
"And who's that redhead?"
Ayako leaned on the railing, eyes fixed on the court where both teams were warming up.
"It looks like the game hasn't started yet," she murmured softly.
Beside her, Kogure Kiminobu adjusted his glasses and narrowed his eyes toward the other side.
"Fujima and Hanagata from Shoyo… I didn't expect them to show up too," he said quietly, sounding surprised.
Kakuta Satoru followed his gaze, frowning.
"Strange. Shouldn't they be watching Kainan's match instead?"
Ayako's tone was calm and matter-of-fact. "Probably because they already know Kainan's going to win. No one really thinks an unknown team can beat them, right?"
Kakuta blinked, then scratched his head. "You've got a point…"
As they talked, Akagi had already scanned the area and found some open seats. Without a word, he led the team over and sat down.
On the court below, both teams were warming up.
Basketballs thudded against the floor again and again, mixing with the sharp squeak of sneakers on the hardwood.
The Miuradai players were loud and energized.
"Go!"
"One more!"
"Keep it up!"
Their shouts filled the air with intensity.
In contrast, Ryonan's side was almost eerily quiet.
No chatter. No cheering. Just calm, precise movements—stretching, dribbling, shuttle runs—executed in perfect rhythm.
They barely spoke, communicating through nods and glances alone.
The contrast was striking: two completely different atmospheres—fire and ice.
Ake didn't join the warm-up.
He stood silently on the sidelines, a white jacket draped over his shoulders, collar slightly raised, arms crossed.
He looked like a statue—dignified and unshakable.
His gaze swept over Miuradai's team, then slowly shifted back to his own players.
In the stands, Hanagata narrowed his eyes, locking onto the red-haired figure in the white jacket.
He murmured under his breath, "That's Ryonan's first-year captain?"
Fujima followed his gaze.
A faint crease formed between his brows as his fingers idly tapped the armrest. His eyes darkened, like still water hiding unseen currents.
That first-year… gave him a strange feeling.
It wasn't just pressure or presence—it was an instinctive, quiet sense of threat.
It reminded him of the first time he'd faced Maki Shinichi in the Kanagawa tournament.
That same feeling of inevitability—no matter how much effort you put in, the opponent would always cast a shadow over you.
And yet… this time, it was stronger.
He frowned slightly.
But how could that be?
He's just a first-year…
"Fujima, what's wrong?" Hanagata asked, noticing the shift in his friend's expression.
Fujima slowly shook his head, trying to dispel the pressure clouding his mind. He took a deep breath and replied evenly, "It's nothing. I just think… that Ryonan's first-year captain is quite something."
Hanagata fell silent, his gaze returning to the court, thoughtful.
"That first-year kid you're talking about… Ake, right? The one with the same hair color as Sakuragi?"
Mitsui Hisashi leaned back lazily in his seat, tapping the armrest with a faint smirk.
Sakuragi stiffened immediately, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
"Hey! Damn you, Mitsui! My hair's not the same color as his!" he yelled.
"Don't call me Mitsui, you punk!" Mitsui's brow twitched. "Show some respect to your seniors, you idiot first-year!"
Miyagi Ryota, hands behind his head, eyed Ake from afar with a teasing grin.
"He's only around one-eighty-something, maybe a bit taller. Doesn't look like much. You guys aren't seriously scared of him, are you?"
"Scared of him?!"
Akagi, Kogure, Kakuta, and the others all went silent at once. The black lines on their foreheads said it all.
Ayako finally cut in, her tone serious. "Enough. The game's about to start."
Everyone fell quiet, turning their focus to the court below.
The players from Ryonan and Miuradai now stood face-to-face at the center circle.
Ryonan's starting lineup:
Center: Uozumi Jun (#5, 3rd year)
Small Forward: Sendo Akira (#7, 2nd year)
Power Forward: Ikegami Ryoji (#6, 2nd year)
Shooting Guard: Koshino Hiroaki (#8, 2nd year)
Point Guard: Uekusa Tomoyuki (#9, 2nd year)
Miuradai's starting lineup:
Center: Akio Kawasaki (#8, 3rd year)
Small Forward / Captain: Kengo Murasame (#4, 3rd year)
Power Forward: Miyamoto Kazunari (#6, 3rd year)
Point Guard: Araki Kazuo (#5, 3rd year)
Shooting Guard: Takatsu Hiroshi (#7, 3rd year)
Kengo Murasame sneered at Uozumi across from him, his lips curling mockingly.
"Heh… I heard your captain's position got stolen by a first-year?"
His tone dripped with false sympathy as he went on, "The great Uozumi, brought down by a kid? How pathetic."
Then he turned, glancing at the players behind Uozumi with contempt.
"Where's your so-called captain, huh? Afraid to play? Or maybe…"
He paused deliberately, the smirk widening.
"Maybe the kid's scared. If he's that frightened, he should go home and cry to his mommy. The court's no place for playing house."
Uozumi and his teammates stared at him, silent—not out of fear, but pity.
Almost in unison, their eyes drifted toward the bench.
Ake still sat there quietly, arms crossed, jacket draped over his shoulders, his expression unreadable.
But the calmer he looked, the more unsettling it felt—like the ocean right before a storm.
Uozumi finally grunted.
"I just hope you can still smile like that after the game."
Beep!
The sharp whistle cut through the air, and the game began.
Swoosh!
The basketball soared upward.
Thump! Thump!
Uozumi and Murasame jumped almost simultaneously, the sound of their feet echoing through the arena.
But at 186 cm, Murasame was no match for the towering 2-meter Uozumi.
Before his fingers could even graze the ball, Uozumi had already reached higher, his wrist flicking with perfect control.
Clap!
The ball tapped cleanly down into Uekusa Tomoyuki's waiting hands.
Without hesitation, Uekusa took off, smoothly leading the offense.
Ryonan's attack had begun.