The next day.
The plaza in front of the stadium buzzed with energy.
Students in Kainan, Shohoku, Ryonan, and Shoyo uniforms, many carrying cheering props, streamed in. Local basketball enthusiasts followed, their faces lit with anticipation. Today was the second round of the 4-to-2 playoffs, and excitement hung thick in the air.
The first game of the morning: Kainan vs. Shohoku.
Although Shohoku had lost to Ryonan yesterday, their resilience and fighting spirit had impressed spectators. Many arrived early, eager to see if Shohoku could perform differently against the formidable "King Kainan."
But the real anticipation was for the afternoon match: Ryonan vs. Shoyo.
Akashi Seijuro's name had ignited Kanagawa's high school basketball scene after Ryonan's win. And the upcoming Shoyo clash promised fireworks: the point guard duel between Fujima Kenji and Akashi, and the tactical battle between the teams, would be a spectacle.
In the parking lot, two large buses rolled to a stop. First, a dark blue "Kainan" bus, then Shohoku's red bus.
Kainan's players were first out. Shinichi Maki led, tall and composed, flanked by Jin Soichiro and Kiyota Nobunaga. Their presence radiated the unmistakable authority of a King's team.
Shohoku followed. Takenori Akagi's fists clenched in determination. Mitsui Hisashi and Rukawa Kaede walked side by side, while Sakuragi Hanamichi squared his back, refusing to be outshone in aura.
The two teams met each other's gaze across the plaza. No words, no movements—just eyes.
In that instant, tension sparked like lightning. Kainan's calm authority collided with Shohoku's unyielding spirit. The invisible energy between them crackled, sharp and unrelenting.
And then, just as suddenly, it dissipated. Both sides turned and walked toward the stadium entrance, their steps steady, faces composed.
The crowd erupted.
"Did you see that? Both teams have so much presence!"
"Shohoku didn't flinch at all. This game's going to be amazing!"
Soon, Ryonan and Shoyo's buses arrived. Their approach silenced the crowd, anticipation shifting as the afternoon matchup loomed.
Ryonan's door opened. Akashi walked in the middle, his red hair striking in the sunlight, heterochromatic eyes calm and unreadable, exuding an aloof aura as if shielded by an invisible barrier.
Shoyo's team followed. Fujima Kenji led, composed and confident, his calm aura a subtle counter to Akashi's presence.
Where Akashi and Fujima glanced at each other, the world seemed to pause. No sparks, no probing—it was as calm as a lake. Both withdrew their gaze, and the teams followed into the stadium, quietly taking seats to watch the morning game.
Time passed. The pre-game chatter in the stands grew eager.
Then:
Clang… Clang…
The iron doors of the player tunnel swung open. Kainan and Shohoku emerged, one side of the court to the other.
Kainan: white jerseys with yellow and purple stripes.
Shohoku: red jerseys.
Cheers exploded. The atmosphere ignited instantly. Both teams moved to warm up, their bodies taut, muscles coiled like springs.
Warm-up ended. The referee walked to the center, basketball tucked under one arm. Players assembled at the center circle. The game was moments away.
Kainan Starting Lineup:
Center: Takasago Kazuma, No. 5, 3rd year
Small Forward: Kiyota Nobunaga, No. 10, 1st year
Power Forward: Muto Tadashi, No. 9, 3rd year
Shooting Guard: Jin Soichiro, No. 6, 2nd year
Point Guard/Captain: Shinichi Maki, No. 4, 3rd year
Shohoku Starting Lineup:
Center: Takenori Akagi, No. 4, 3rd year
Small Forward: Rukawa Kaede, No. 11, 1st year
Power Forward: Sakuragi Hanamichi, No. 10, 1st year
Shooting Guard: Mitsui Hisashi, No. 14, 3rd year
Point Guard: Miyagi Ryota, No. 7, 2nd year
Shinichi Maki's caution was palpable. He had witnessed Shohoku's fight against Ryonan and knew they were no longer an easily defeated team. Today, with only Jin Soichiro and Kiyota Nobunaga supporting, Kainan could face a real challenge.
Shohoku, tempered by their Ryonan defeat, had grown stronger. Their spirit was sharpened, ready for battle.
In the stands, Akashi watched. Shohoku's improvements were evident. For him, the outcome of this game—Kainan or Shohoku—was secondary. His eyes were on a larger prize: the championship, and the unprecedented three-peat that would cement his name in history.
The referee tossed the ball into the air.
Beep…
The whistle pierced the arena. The basketball arced upward, orange-yellow under the lights like a suspended moon.
Thump… Thump…
Takasago and Akagi leapt simultaneously, arms straining toward the ball.
The Kainan vs. Shohoku battle had begun.