Ryonan's overwhelming advance was like a massive boulder crashing into a still lake.
Ripples spread instantly.
The 39-point victory, and more importantly, the three-minute domination Akashi displayed after stepping onto the court, cast a heavy shadow over every team still in contention.
Unease.
Pressure.
And a sense that something fundamental had changed.
Among all the teams, Shoyo and Kainan appeared the calmest.
Shoyo had long stood as Kanagawa's perennial second place. Fujima Kenji's command of tempo, Hanagata Toru's refined interior skills, and their airtight zone defense formed a system built on discipline and pride. They had weathered stronger storms before.
Kainan, on the other hand, was different.
As Kanagawa's unquestioned overlord, confidence wasn't something they displayed—it was something ingrained into their bones.
Shinichi Maki's all-around dominance, Jin Soichiro's deadly shooting, Takasago Kazuma's experience, and years of championship pedigree gave them unwavering belief.
Even Ryonan's rise, as explosive as it was, did not shake them.
Not long after Ryonan defeated Tsukubu, news arrived from Court No. 1.
Kainan had crushed Daikita.
The result itself surprised no one.
What shocked everyone was how it was done.
Kainan fielded only substitute players.
Maki.
Jin.
Takasago.
All absent.
And yet, Kainan still dismantled Daikita methodically, winning 78–56.
The stands buzzed.
"Even their bench is this strong…?"
"This depth is absurd."
"No wonder they've ruled Kanagawa for years."
With that, Kainan advanced to the Top 8.
As matches continued through the day, cheers echoed endlessly through the stadium. By evening, the final whistle of the last match blew—and the Top 8 was officially confirmed.
Top 8 Standings
Group A
Kainan (2–0)
Daikita (2–1)
Group B
Shoyo (2–0)
Kakuno (2–1)
Group C
Ryonan (2–0)
Tsukubu (2–1)
Group D
Takezato (2–1)
Shohoku (2–0)
To prevent repeat matchups, the tournament committee reorganized the bracket based on records and prior encounters.
Quarterfinal Matchups:
Kainan vs Kakuno
Shoyo vs Daikita
Ryonan vs Takezato
Shohoku vs Tsukubu
On paper, the favorites were obvious.
Kainan. Shoyo. Ryonan.
Yet basketball had never been a sport that obeyed paper logic.
And if any team was capable of overturning expectations—it was Shohoku.
Once annual first-round casualties, they had transformed into a dangerous dark horse.
Akagi's iron-wall defense.
Mitsui's miracle shooting.
Miyagi's speed and control.
Sakuragi's raw explosiveness.
And Rukawa Kaede's silent brilliance.
A team of problem children—playing with terrifying momentum.
The quarterfinals would be single elimination.
One game.
One chance.
Lose, and everything ends.
The Next Day - Ryonan High, Press Club
Sunlight filtered through the blinds, scattering soft shadows across the floor.
At a corner desk, Kamishiro Ruri leaned forward, pen gliding rapidly across manuscript paper. Her brows were knit in concentration, oblivious to the noise drifting in from outside.
Beside her lay freshly developed photographs.
Uozumi mid-dunk.
Sendoh slicing through defenders.
And most of all—
Akashi Seijuro.
Him controlling the ball at the top of the arc.
Him passing, wrist flicking with surgical precision.
Him sitting calmly among teammates, red hair damp with sweat, expression unreadable.
She finally set her pen down.
"…Finished."
At the top of the page, the bold title gleamed:
"The Rise of Ryonan"
The article chronicled every major battle—Uozumi's dominance, Sendoh's versatility, Fukuda's impact—but the heart of it belonged to Akashi.
The behind-the-back pass that broke the deadlock.
The three steals in one minute.
The invisible control he exerted over the entire court.
Ruri stretched lightly, sunlight catching her eyelashes.
She checked the time.
3:00 PM.
Basketball practice.
She carefully folded the manuscript, slipped it into her bag, then paused—fingers lingering on Akashi's photo.
"I wonder… if Akashi-kun will like it."
She knew he wouldn't show much reaction.
But imagining him reading it carefully—perhaps pausing, perhaps thinking—made her heart flutter.
From the moment she met him, Ryonan's rise had felt inevitable.
She, who once knew nothing of basketball, now studied magazines late into the night. Learned tactics. Memorized terminology.
Just to stand a little closer to his world.
She had seen kings like Maki.
Commanders like Fujima.
Geniuses like Sendoh.
Yet none shook her heart the way Akashi did.
His calm wasn't restraint—it was instinct.
And the Emperor Eye she had accidentally learned about…
It made her realize something frightening.
Who could possibly defeat someone like him?
She stepped into the sunlit corridor, footsteps light, heart steady.
Quarterfinal Day
The gym buzzed with intensity.
Morning matches unfolded exactly as expected.
Kainan crushed Kakuno, 108–53.
Shoyo annihilated Daikita, 114–36.
Absolute dominance.
By afternoon, anticipation peaked.
Ryonan vs Takezato.
Akashi never stood.
Jacket on.
Arms folded.
And yet Ryonan obliterated Takezato regardless.
Uozumi ruled the paint.
Sendoh toyed with defenders.
Fukuda detonated dunk after dunk.
Final score:
Ryonan 146 — Takezato 36
A 110-point difference.
Then came the final match.
Shohoku vs Tsukubu.
The first half was fierce.
But in the second, Shohoku pulled away.
Mitsui caught fire.
Akagi sealed the paint.
And when Godai lost control and was ejected—
Tsukubu collapsed.
Final score:
Shohoku 110 — Tsukubu 78
The Final Four
As the announcement echoed through Kanagawa, silence fell—followed by a storm.
Kainan
Shoyo
Ryonan
Shohoku
Four teams.
Four paths.
One destination.
And from this moment on, Kanagawa would never be the same again.