"We won!!!"
Hanamichi Sakuragi threw both hands into the air, already celebrating.
"My first victory! Wahahaha! The genius triumphs!"
In the stands, Shohoku supporters began cheering and hugging each other.
"Idiot! It's not over yet!"
A low shout cut through the noise.
Kaede Rukawa dashed toward the backcourt like a hunting cheetah.
At the same moment Makino Juro made the free throw, he didn't pause for even a second—he spun around and sprinted back.
He didn't even celebrate.
Because he had seen that man.
The light in Akira Sendoh's eyes hadn't died yet.
"Inbound the ball! Hurry!"
Moichi Taoka jumped and shouted from the sideline.
Jun Uozumi grabbed the ball. Without even stepping behind the baseline, he hurled it forward with tremendous force.
A desperate full-court pass.
The ball rocketed across half the court like a cannon shell.
Sendoh caught it.
4 seconds left.
Without hesitation, he accelerated immediately after the catch, slicing into Shohoku's territory like a streak of blue lightning.
"Stop him!!!"
Takenori Akagi roared beneath the basket.
But Sendoh was too fast.
He blew past the celebrating Sakuragi.
He blew past Kiminobu Kogure, who couldn't recover in time.
Ahead of him—
only the basket remained.
3 seconds.
One layup—
and Ryonan would win at the buzzer.
"Not happening!"
A black shadow burst in from the side.
Rukawa!
Gritting his teeth, he squeezed out the very last drop of stamina left in his body and slid sideways to block Sendoh's path.
"…Rukawa Kaede."
A trace of admiration flickered in Sendoh's eyes.
But his movement never hesitated.
Sudden stop.
Crossover.
Rukawa was shaken off by half a step.
Sendoh jumped.
At that very moment—
another figure appeared on his opposite side.
Makino Juro!
"Seriously… do you have to make me work overtime until the very last second?"
Makino Juro wore a pained expression, but he jumped as well.
His leap wasn't high.
But his long arms perfectly sealed off Sendoh's passing lane.
On the left—Rukawa.
On the right—Makino Juro.
A double demon's gate!
In midair, Sendoh was trapped between the two.
No passing angle.
No space for a layup.
1 second left.
"Guess I have to shoot."
Sendoh twisted his waist in midair, relying on astonishing core strength to force the ball through the narrow gap between their blocks.
A fadeaway pull-up.
The form was beautiful.
But the difficulty was absurd.
Every heartbeat in the gym seemed to stop.
All eyes followed the ball.
The basketball struck the front rim.
Thunk.
It bounced up.
Fell.
Bounced again.
Then rolled around the rim once.
And finally…
slipped off the outside.
"BUZZZ!!!"
The final buzzer sounded.
The red light lit up.
The scoreboard froze at:
89 : 90
The sound of the ball hitting the floor was swallowed by deafening cheers.
"We… won…"
Akagi stared at the scoreboard.
His eyes instantly turned red.
Shohoku—
the team that always lost.
The team people mocked.
Had just defeated Ryonan.
Defeated last year's Final Four team.
On the court.
Sendoh landed and stared at the basketball rolling away.
He froze for two seconds.
Then smiled helplessly and scratched his spiky hair.
"Ah… we lost."
"What a shame."
Though he said it was a shame—
there wasn't the slightest gloom in his eyes.
Instead, they were filled with anticipation for the future.
On the other side.
The moment the whistle blew, Makino Juro collapsed onto the floor like someone whose bones had been pulled out.
"Finally… off work."
"System, I want to redeem an ice-cold cola."
"Immediately. Right now."
He lay spread-eagle on the hardwood, staring at the ceiling.
"Master!!!"
Before Makino Juro could catch his breath—
a mountain of flesh dropped on him.
Sakuragi pounced onto him, smearing tears and snot everywhere.
"We won! I'm a genius! Wahahaha!"
"Get off… I'm suffocating…"
Makino Juro rolled his eyes.
He had just survived Sendoh's game-winner—
only to nearly die in his disciple's hug.
Nearby, Rukawa bent forward with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.
Sweat dripped onto the floor.
He glanced once at Makino Juro trapped beneath Sakuragi, then toward Sendoh in the distance.
"Next time…"
Rukawa clenched his fist.
"I'll win more completely."
On the sidelines.
Coach Taoka stood there like a statue.
Half of his broken tactics board slipped from his hand.
"We lost…"
"I actually lost to Shohoku…"
"No… I lost to…"
His gaze landed on the figure wearing number 16, lying on the floor.
The laziest-looking player.
The most unmotivated-looking player.
Yet the one who delivered the fatal blow.
"…Makino Juro."
Taoka ground his teeth, but he couldn't deny it.
"Shohoku… the winds are changing this year."
Sitting in his chair, Mitsuyoshi Anzai chuckled softly.
The reflection on his glasses hid the sharp glint in his eyes.
"Oh ho ho ho…"
"It seems…"
"This summer will be very interesting."
Makino Juro finally managed to push Sakuragi off.
He sat up, feeling like every bone in his body was about to fall apart.
Inside his mind, the system's pleasant notification sounded.
[Congratulations, Host. Mission Completed]
[Reward Granted: All Attributes +1]
A smile curled at the corner of Makino Juro's mouth.
Not just because of the reward.
But because—
"At least I don't have to wipe the floor anymore."
The echo of the whistle still seemed to linger above the Ryonan gym.
The bright red score on the board—
89 : 90
Like an unbelievable miracle, it burned itself into everyone's retinas.
After a brief silence—
the arena erupted.
Soon after, both teams lined up at center court.
Although it was only a practice match, the atmosphere felt more intense than an official game.
Akagi stood at the front of Shohoku's line.
Tape was still stuck to his forehead.
Sweat mixed with dried blood.
He looked like a general returning from war.
Opposite him stood the equally exhausted Uozumi.
The eyes of the two giants met in the air.
The earlier hostility was gone.
In its place—
was something called respect.
"You won this time, Akagi."
"But at the prefectural tournament, I'll take it back with interest."
Uozumi extended his massive hand.
His voice was low, carrying a trace of unwillingness.
Akagi grasped the hand firmly.
"Anytime."
"But next time…"
"Shohoku will still win."
They released their hands and moved down the line.
The line slowly progressed.
Finally—
Rukawa stood in front of Sendoh.
Rukawa's usually cold face now burned with determination.
Sweat dripped from his sharp chin as his eyes locked onto Sendoh.
Sendoh, meanwhile, had already returned to his signature relaxed smile.
He extended his hand casually, as if discussing tomorrow's weather.
"Nice game, Rukawa Kaede."
"That last defense was impressive."
Rukawa looked at the hand in front of him.
He didn't shake it.
Smack!
A crisp sound.
Rukawa raised his hand and slapped Sendoh's palm.
Not quite a high-five—
more like a declaration of war.
People around them froze for a moment.
Rukawa withdrew his hand and said coldly:
"Next time, I'll defeat you directly."
"Not with luck."
"Not with teamwork."
"One on one."
After saying that, he walked away without looking back.
Sendoh stared at his reddened palm for a second.
Then the smile on his lips deepened.
"What an unlovable junior."
"…But very interesting."