2 – 3
The sound of Renji Arimura's three-pointer cutting through the air was like a warning shot. Swift. Clean. Deadly. The ball sank through the net with a satisfying swish, and it wasn't just a bucket—it was a declaration.
We can do better.
For the next few possessions, it turned into a fast-paced exchange of blows. Both sides landed shots, but it was like we were fighting a battle with different weapons.
We fought with muscle and grit—layups, drives, and mid-range pull-ups. They? They just shot over us.
4 – 3.
4 – 5.
6 – 5.
6 – 8.
Their threes rained down with alarming consistency. We responded the best we could, with Rei landing one from deep, and Aizawa slashing through with a strong finish at the rim. But the math wasn't on our side.
9 – 11.
11 – 14.
13 – 16.
Each time we scored two, they'd return with a clean three. It didn't take a genius to realize how quickly that adds up.
16 – 18.
18 – 20.
By the time the buzzer rang to signal the end of the first quarter, it was clear—this wasn't going to be a grind-it-out, low-scoring game. This was going to be a shootout.
We gathered around the bench. The scoreboard read 18 – 20. Close, but if we kept trading baskets like this, it wouldn't stay that way.
Everyone was catching their breath, especially Rei, who had already sunk two threes but was also chasing shooters like a madman.
Coach Tsugawa clapped once. "Nice one, Rei. You're keeping up with their pace. You are our weapon in this game."
Rei nodded, towel over his head, sweat dripping down like rain.
"Dirga," Coach looked at me, "you're reading the gaps well. Keep drawing defenders. Every step you force them to move is stamina drained."
I gave a quiet nod. I was already feeling the pace myself.
"Remember the plan," Coach Tsugawa said, eyes sharp. "This isn't about outscoring them in the first half. We'll bleed them. We'll make every bucket a war. Let them shoot—but make it tough. They won't keep this up forever."
He raised a fist.
"Second half, we strike."
"Yesss, coach!"
"Alright—break their legs."
"Oi, that's illegal," Taiga said with a grin.
"Figuratively!" Coach replied with a rare smirk.
…
Second Quarter – Tennoji Possession
Renji Arimura jogged up the court, calm as ever. You wouldn't think this was a high-stakes prefecture qualifier by looking at him. His face didn't have an ounce of stress. That confidence? It was earned.
He passed the half-court line, signaled a play, then handed it off to Akihiko Nanase—their shooting guard. A screen came from their center, Kenjiro, sharp and deliberate.
Akihiko used the screen, stepped into space, and rose.
Swish.
18 – 23.
Their shooting rhythm was no joke. Almost mechanical. And the worst part? None of them hesitated. Even their big men weren't shy from the perimeter.
We tried switching—Rei and I rotating fast, Taiga stepping out—but their spacing was textbook perfect.
I brought the ball up next play and ran our motion set. Passed to Rei, then cut hard left to drag defenders. Rikuya sealed the block, and Rei dished it in.
Our titan caught, turned, and finished with a soft hook over two defenders.
20 – 23.
Coach Tsugawa clapped. "That's it! Don't let them rest!"
They inbounded quick and kept the ball moving like hot potato. Renji again.
This time I met him early. Pressured high. He dribbled behind the back, shifted right, then stepped back to the left.
I flew in to contest—but the shot was already gone.
20 – 26.
"S-t-range," Rei muttered beside me. "He shot that from, like, the volleyball line."
I wiped my forehead. "It's like guarding a video game character."
We adjusted. Started closing harder. Aizawa sacrificed his usual aggression to help with perimeter contests. Taiga ran like a mad dog between screens. Hiroki, who rotated in briefly, disrupted their rhythm by denying the wing passes.
22 – 26.
22 – 28.
24 – 28.
It wasn't perfect—but it was starting to click. Tennoji's shooters were hot, but they were human. Every minute we forced extra movement, contested a few more threes, they looked a little slower.
Coach Tsugawa noticed it too.
"Look at their shoulders!" he barked from the sideline. "They're tightening up. That means they're thinking. That's when they start missing."
In the final two minutes, we finally saw some cracks.
Renji missed a step-back.
Akihiko rushed a release.
Their PF, Matsuoka, fumbled a catch-and-shoot.
We pounced.
Dirga to Rei. Splash.
Rei to Aizawa. Layup.
Aizawa to Rikuya—slam.
30 – 30.
The momentum swung. And when the halftime buzzer rang?
32 – 33.
We were still behind—but barely.
And more importantly? They were sweating.
Hard.
Renji tugged at his jersey. Kenjiro slapped his hands in frustration. Even Akihiko was walking slower.
Back at the bench, we sat with heavy breaths but lifted spirits.
"We're right where we want them," Coach said, his tone ice cold. "Let the crowd cheer for them. Let them think they're ahead. But this is our game now."
Rikuya let out a grunt of agreement. "Let me at 'em. I'll shut them down."
Aizawa and Taiga fist-bumped. Rei leaned against me, panting.
"You ready for more?" he asked.
I gave a grin, even if I didn't feel it.
"Always."