Hmm?
Akashi stepped back onto the court, his gaze sweeping across the Shohoku players. Immediately, he sensed a change.
Compared to before the timeout, the aura around Shohoku had completely shifted.
The confusion and impatience that had built from the scoring deficit were gone.
Now, they were composed. Focused. Ready.
Akashi's eyes drifted to the Shohoku bench, settling on Anzai Mitsuyoshi.
This transformation—so swift and thorough—was the work of Coach Anzai.
No wonder he was renowned. In mere moments, he had stabilized the team's emotions and rekindled their fighting spirit.
Akashi, however, found it natural. Shohoku players were not the type to surrender easily. If they had truly wilted under a small deficit, that would have been the unusual outcome.
The game resumed, and both teams instantly assumed their positions.
Miyagi Ryota's gaze found Akashi automatically. He was wary. Extremely wary.
Who else could, with nothing more than a casual pass or subtle movement, change the rhythm of a game?
Shohoku initiated the attack.
Miyagi dribbled, briefly meeting Akashi's eyes, then decisively passed the ball.
He had learned his lesson—stay away from Akashi unless necessary. The memory of having the ball stolen from him still burned vividly.
Rukawa Kaede caught the pass and drove toward Ryonan's basket.
Sendo shadowed him, ready to cut off any path.
Rukawa slowed, faked right, shifted his weight—Sendo instinctively leaned right to block.
But Rukawa's wrist flicked, the ball switched to his right hand, and his body pivoted sharply, accelerating left into the space Sendo had vacated.
The fake was lightning fast.
Sendo reacted quickly, retreating a half step, fingertips brushing Rukawa's hand, trying to disrupt his rhythm.
Rukawa pressed on, one stride carrying him to the free-throw line.
Uozumi had arrived, forming a pincer attack with Sendo.
Everyone expected a pull-up shot. Even Sendo braced to block.
But at the moment of the jump, Rukawa flicked the ball under his armpit, sending a low, flat pass to Takenori Akagi, cutting in from the baseline.
Akagi leapt, ready to dunk.
But Sendo abandoned his previous defense, diving toward Akagi instead.
Slam! The dunk was blocked; the ball bounced away.
Rukawa reacted instantly, snatching the rebound mid-step, jumping again, leaning back to avoid defenders, and calmly scoring.
Landing, he faced Sendo, chest heaving, sweat dripping.
Sendo smirked. "Not bad."
Rukawa, as ever, said nothing more than three words: "I'll wait for you."
The ball switched sides. Akashi dribbled toward mid-court.
He paused briefly, scanning the court with the precision of a radar.
Then, his dribble grew heavier, louder—alerting Miyagi instantly.
Akashi shifted his weight to the right, left hand sliding under the ball as if preparing a front crossover.
Miyagi tensed, half a step to the right, palm ready to intercept.
But Akashi's movement paused—then, with a sudden pivot, he spun clockwise half a turn, right hand shielding the ball, sliding effortlessly behind Miyagi.
By the time Miyagi turned, Akashi's arm nudged his lower back, leaving him off balance.
Shock registered on Miyagi's face. He had anticipated a fake, yet failed to predict the unconventional turn.
Akashi accelerated, heading straight for Shohoku's basket.
He spotted a red figure rushing from the inside—Sakuragi Hanamichi.
As he approached the free-throw line, Akashi bent his knees and leapt, ball raised in a shooting posture.
Sakuragi followed, wings outstretched, eyes fixed, determined to block the shot.
But at the peak, Akashi's motion changed.
Instead of shooting, he flicked the ball toward the left side of the hoop.
A white figure appeared—Fukuda Kiccho, cutting in early to receive the pass.
Just then, a red blur lunged diagonally, fingertips aiming for the ball—it was Rukawa Kaede.
Akashi didn't flinch; his pass continued as intended.
The crowd held its breath. Shohoku players tensed, hoping.
Rukawa's fingers grazed the ball—but Akashi's wrist subtly hooked, redirecting it.
The ball, seemingly pulled by an invisible string, veered from behind Akashi to Fukuda.
Shock registered across Shohoku's faces. Their steal had failed.
Sendo arrived to cover the other side. Akagi stepped forward under the basket, ready to intercept.
The Shohoku players thought, This is it. There's no way out now.
Then, the impossible happened.
As the ball was about to reach Sendo, Akashi lifted his other arm and lightly struck the ball with his elbow, redirecting it back along its original path.
Thwack!
The unexpected twist left everyone in the arena dumbfounded.
Rukawa shifted focus from Fukuda to Sendo, trying to intercept—but it was too late.
The basketball settled cleanly in Fukuda Kiccho's hands.
Fukuda wasted no time. He pushed off, leapt, and slammed the ball into Shohoku's empty basket.
Clang!
The net flared, then fell. The ball swished through.
The entire stadium fell into dead silence.