A bead of cold sweat trickled down Fujima Kenji's temple.
Akashi's words just now echoed in his mind like a curse.
He had to admit—Akashi had struck Shoyo's weak spot perfectly.
Sendoh's dominance had been obvious. To fully stop him, Shoyo would have needed at least two defenders. But doubling up would leave other Ryonan players wide open. Any attempt to score mid-range could not match Ryonan's offensive efficiency.
It was exactly as Akashi had said: the current score difference already symbolized Shoyo's defeat.
Yet Fujima Kenji quickly shook his head, suppressing that thought. Nothing was absolute.
Ryonan's strength was formidable, but that didn't mean Shoyo could only surrender. No lead was insurmountable. No team was invincible. Even Kainan—the King—had lost games in the National Tournament.
Clarity returned to Fujima Kenji's eyes. He drew a deep breath and tightened his grip on the ball.
Mitsuru Nagano passed it steadily to him.
The moment the basketball landed in his hands, Fujima Kenji's gaze swept across Ryonan's half, rapidly observing every position. Nothing could escape him.
"Don't rush. Play steadily. Take your time," he murmured to his teammates, quiet but firm, steadying their shaken minds.
He bent his knees, adopting an offensive stance. This time, he did not accelerate immediately. Instead, he deliberately slowed his rhythm, dribbling patiently, probing Ryonan's defense while waiting for his teammates to find optimal positions.
Shoyo's off-ball movement was fluid, honed by years of practice. Mitsuru Nagano weaved along the wing, alternating acceleration and direction to shake off Sendoh. Takano Shoichi moved across the court, lightly obstructing Sendoh's path—a subtle but precise disruption.
Hanagata Toru cut into the paint, faking left, tricking Uozumi into a slight shift of his center of gravity. Kazushi Hasegawa shadowed Fukuda Kiccho, keeping tight pressure without fouling.
Every Shoyo player was focused. Screens, cuts, distractions, positioning—they all worked together in an interlocking chain.
Akashi noticed immediately.
Shoyo was different from before. They were no longer running set plays. Each action was a spontaneous response, a product of tacit understanding and years of experience. There were no fixed patterns, nothing predictable to exploit immediately.
Then Fujima Kenji moved.
With a flick of his wrist, the basketball left his control, bouncing sharply to the right. The angle was perfect, skimming the narrow gap between Takano Shoichi and Sendoh. The ball's height was precise—low enough to avoid interception, high enough to prevent a fumble.
Takano caught it seamlessly and passed it to Kazushi Hasegawa, who had cut in from the baseline. Without pause, Hasegawa raised the ball and flicked his wrist.
Swish.
The scoreboard updated: Ryonan 15 – Shoyo 4.
Hasegawa clenched his fists, a spark of excitement flashing in his eyes. Shooting wasn't his strength, yet the net's crisp swish ignited hope.
"Good shot! Hasegawa, well done!" Fujima encouraged, voice full of genuine pride.
The ball returned to Ryonan's possession. Akashi caught it, right foot striking the floor hard, then dashed toward Shoyo's half like an arrow. His pace had changed abruptly—rapid, precise, almost a blur.
Shoyo's defense hadn't settled when Akashi crossed the half-court line. The speed jolted their hearts. They instinctively shifted to swarm him, leaving gaps elsewhere.
Mitsuru Nagano's attention followed Akashi, but Sendoh exploited the distraction, slicing down the sideline. Fukuda Kiccho faked toward the paint, drawing Takano Shoichi's focus, disrupting defensive support.
Ryonan's offense spread wide, exploiting every opening.
Akashi passed to Sendoh on the flank, who immediately flicked the ball to Fukuda in the center. Fukuda faked left, tilting his body sharply. Takano fell for it, shifting his balance. The ball landed with Koshino Hiroaki on the perimeter, completely unguarded.
Hiroaki inhaled, raised the ball, and flicked his wrist.
Swish.
Ryonan 18 – Shoyo 4.
In less than ten seconds, Ryonan's offense had dismantled Shoyo once again. The players' newfound composure crumbled instantly.
Before they could regroup, Ryonan's defense pressed like an iron wall. The game was tipping decisively in Ryonan's favor.
Yet Shoyo refused to surrender.
In the next possessions, they fought back with pick-and-rolls. Hanagata Toru's screen freed Fujima to drive into the paint. But Akashi was ready, arriving swiftly from behind, arm outstretched, cutting off the layup.
Forced to adjust, Fujima passed to Kazushi Hasegawa. He shot—but Koshino's defense barely grazed the ball, disrupting its trajectory. It hit the rim and bounced out.
Uozumi was entangled under the basket, unable to secure the rebound. Mitsuru Nagano lunged forward, attempting the putback—but Sendoh swooped in from the side, slamming his palm onto the ball.
Slap.
Possession returned to Ryonan.