Thump… thump… thump…
The basketball bounced under Akashi's palm, each sound striking like a hammer against the hearts of Miyagi Ryota and Mitsui Hisashi.
He didn't try to break through. Instead, he took two deliberate steps back.
Both Miyagi and Mitsui froze, stunned by his movement. This step-back was unexpected—not an attack, not a feint.
Then they saw it.
Akashi clapped his hands together, the ball landing against his chest with a sharp thwack.
Under the stunned gaze of everyone in the stadium… Akashi raised the basketball and aimed at his own hoop.
Miyagi Ryota blinked, utterly bewildered. Hey! That's your own hoop!
Mitsui Hisashi was equally dumbfounded. In all his years playing basketball, he had never seen anyone purposefully shoot at their own basket.
A hush fell over the stadium.
The ball arced lightly, casually yet precisely… and dropped into the hoop.
Silence.
Time seemed to stop. The crowd, the players, the coaches, the referees—even the press—all froze.
Finally, someone blinked.
Kiyota Nobunaga rubbed his eyes in disbelief. "He… what is he doing? Has he gone crazy?"
Jin Soichiro frowned, muttering softly, "An own goal? But… it doesn't look like it."
Hanagata Toru's glasses reflected the court lights. "An own goal…?"
Fujima Kenji shook his head, voice uncertain yet firm. "No… he aimed before shooting."
Shohoku's bench was equally stunned.
Ayako murmured, "What is he thinking? This is an official game!"
Kogure Kiminobu pushed up his glasses, speechless with bewilderment.
Even Anzai Mitsuyoshi looked slightly perplexed. He had never seen anything like this.
On Ryonan's bench, confusion ran deeper. Coach Taoka Moichi seemed nailed to the spot, eyes fixed on Akashi. He had expected another tactical adjustment—but instead witnessed his first-year captain shoot at his own hoop.
"What on earth is he thinking?" Taoka muttered, fists clenched.
Aida Hikoichi's head spun, while Aida Yayoi stared in incredulous blankness. Kamishiro Ruri quietly observed, murmuring, "Akashi-kun…"
Yet Ruri didn't think he had lost his mind. There had to be a reason.
On the court, Akashi walked toward the Ryonan players, step by step, calm and composed.
His heterochromatic eyes rested on each of them—not sharp, not threatening—but heavy, like a stone pressing down on Uozumi, Koshino, and the others.
Even the veterans lowered their gaze, unnerved by his presence.
Akashi's voice carried softly but firmly:
"When did I say you could relax? The game isn't over yet."
He paused, letting his gaze settle on each player. "Have you lost your sense of urgency just because we're temporarily ahead? Being caught by a few points and falling apart is proof enough."
Silence. Uozumi, Koshino, Fukuda, and Sendo said nothing. They knew. The fault was theirs.
Akashi continued, tone calm, almost gentle:
"If that's the case, then I'd rather the score difference wasn't so big. It will help clear your heads."
The players' expressions softened—guilt, yes, but also the warmth of acknowledgment. Their agitation and impatience gradually faded, replaced by clarity, determination, and renewed fighting spirit.
The stadium watched in disbelief. Even seasoned captains Shinichi Maki and Fujima Kenji gaped.
"You've got to be kidding!" Kiyota Nobunaga muttered. "A first-year… feels more authoritative than a coach."
"Look at the other players—they've completely calmed down," Jin Soichiro noted solemnly.
Fujima Kenji's mind raced. This guy… is extremely dangerous.
For the first time, he felt real crisis emanating from Akashi.
He finally understood why this first-year newcomer had become Ryonan's captain.
On Shohoku's bench, Anzai Mitsuyoshi adjusted his glasses, a gentle appreciation in his eyes. "This young man is truly remarkable."
Even veteran reporters were awestruck. Aida Yayoi's eyes sparkled. "So this is Ryonan's first-year captain? He's amazing."
The stadium, the benches, the press—all had witnessed it: the calm authority, the subtle strategy, and the sheer presence of a player whose influence went far beyond his years.
Akashi had not only shocked everyone with an impossible shot… he had reminded everyone what it meant to be a true captain.