When the whistle for the second half pierced the stuffy air of the stadium, the lineup on the court elicited a low “oh” from the stands.

Next to Hainan Team's bench, two rookies who had just taken off their jackets silently put them back on.

When Kiyota was carried off earlier in the first half, they thought they would have to go in and cover for a while, but Takato Riki ultimately didn't give them the chance.

Takato Riki stood by the sideline, his face grim.

Everyone could see how difficult it was for him: in the first half, Kosha Kazuma had 3 fouls, and Muto Tadashi had 4 fouls, his legs like they were tied with sandbags, not daring to take large strides.

The image of Kiyota Nobunaga being carried into the tunnel hadn't faded, which made the already thin interior completely a sieve letting in wind.

(Ps: The already not-so-rich interior is even worse…)

Those two rookies on the bench?

They hadn't even played a proper game in the Prefectural Tournament; if they really stood at the forward position, they probably wouldn't even understand Rikawa's pick-and-roll.

“Coach Takato… is he going all out?” someone in the stands muttered.

Over at Rikawa's bench, head coach Sato Jiro was talking to his assistant coach, his fingertip tapping on the tactics board — tapping precisely on the “Hainan Interior” column.

His remark to the players before the end of the first half, “Hainan's weakness is its interior,” now floated in the air of the stadium.

These Rikawa kids were too good at drawing fouls; Kawaguchi Shota's fake moves could make defenders' hands tremble, and Sota Sasuke, standing under the basket, with his bulk, was a natural “foul bait.” How could Hainan's interior withstand such grinding?

When the whistle blew again, Hainan Team's five players on the court stood somewhat scattered.

Maki Shinichi stood outside the three-point line, his gaze sweeping over his teammates: Takasago's footsteps were extremely light as he moved towards the basket, afraid that one wrong step would lead to another foul.

Muto Tadashi clenched his fists, his shoulders and back taut like a fully drawn bow — with 4 fouls, he had to hold back even his defensive movements by half.

Miyamasu huddled next to Jin Soichiro, already short, now looking even more like a blade of grass about to be blown over by the wind.

Kawaguchi Shota was inbounding for Rikawa.

This kid was very sharp; as soon as he held the ball, his gaze was fixed intently on Muto Tadashi.

As he charged forward, he deliberately bumped into Muto Tadashi's arm, and with a lean, he tried to fall to the ground — Muto Tadashi reacted quickly, suddenly retreating half a step, barely avoiding his brush.

“Tsk.” Sato Jiro scoffed softly from the bench.

Maki Shinichi quickly rushed over to defend, flipping his wrist to try and steal Kawaguchi's ball, but Kawaguchi had already flung the ball towards the basket.

Sota Sasuke stood there like a small mountain; Takasago was about to raise his hand to block, but then suddenly stopped — last time, he got a foul for raising his hand to poke the ball, so now he could only keep his arms at his sides, pushing through with his chest.

“Bang!” The two collided, and Takasago was pushed back two stumbling steps, his lower back hitting the base of the basket stand, making him grimace in pain.

Sota, however, acted as if nothing happened, hugging the ball and stuffing it into the hoop — the basketball bounced off the backboard and dropped into the hoop, followed by the referee's whistle.

“Defensive foul!”

Takasago froze in place; when the referee signaled “4,” his Adam's apple bobbed, but he said nothing.

Four fouls now.

Sighs rose again from the stands.

Over at Ryonan, Uozumi Jun frowned: “Takasago can't defend at all; he can't extend his arms, and he can't push back.”

Sakuragi Hanamichi scorned: “That 'big grizzly bear' is too cheap! Always bumping into people!”

Muto Tadashi stood nearby, his hands clenched so tightly they were almost bleeding.

(Ps: The problem of knuckles turning white when criticized… indeed, I'm at a loss for words…)

If he had dared to move half a step forward just now, he might have been able to block for Takasago, but 4 fouls were like a thorn in him — if he also went down, Hainan Team wouldn't even have anyone left who could stand at the forward position.

Rikawa made an additional free throw, Sota calmly sinking it. The 55:34 score difference was once again extended to 22 points.

Maki Shinichi bent down to pick up the ball, his fingertips brushing against sweat stains on the floor.

He looked up at Takato Riki, but Coach Takato wasn't looking at him, only staring at the interior on the court — it was empty, Takasago stood clutching his lower back, Muto Tadashi defended with his arms tucked in, like two people with their hands and feet tied.

“A Mu!” Jin Soichiro suddenly shouted.

He had just been glued so tightly by Rikawa's players that he couldn't even stand firm outside the three-point line.

Miyamasu was even worse; trying to get to an open spot, he was gently blocked by Watanabe Kenji and stumbled — Rikawa didn't even need to bother defending the perimeter, since Hainan Team's ball couldn't get into the paint, it could only wander aimlessly outside.

Maki Shinichi dribbled and charged towards the basket; Sota immediately moved to block him.

This time, Maki didn't go around, he deliberately bumped into Sota — he wanted to draw a foul, but the referee only blew for “charging.”

Rikawa's ball, same old trick, another score from the interior!

“Damn it!”

Takato Riki's voice suddenly came.

Maki Shinichi looked back at him; the red blood vessels in Takato Riki's eyes were almost bursting.

After Maki Shinichi dribbled past half-court, he turned and threw the ball to Jin Soichiro with such force that A Shen's wrist trembled.

Rikawa's players had already rushed over; as soon as A Shen raised his hand, the ball was stolen by Kawaguchi Shota.

Another fast break, this time Muto Tadashi didn't dare to block, watching helplessly as Kawaguchi passed the ball to Watanabe Kenji, who immediately took a mid-range shot — the ball went in. 57:34.

Takato Riki finally called a timeout.

He walked onto the court, not looking at the scoreboard, but only staring at Takasago and Muto Tadashi: “Takasago, go rest for three minutes. Muto, you also take a break.”

The two felt their hearts sink — even they had to come off?

But Takato Riki's next words made them even more stunned: “A Mu, play as you please. A Shen, Miyamasu, you two stand on either side of the three-point line.” He paused, looking at the two rookies on the bench, “You two, just do your best, you must keep an eye on Rikawa's passing lanes; pay special attention to setting screens for A Mu.”

The rookies' nervous faces were a bit pale, and if one observed closely, it wasn't hard to find that their legs were trembling.

The Hainan Team players were all stunned; did Coach Takato's words mean he was giving up?

Although unwilling, what could be done in the current situation?

Maki Shinichi unconsciously looked towards Ryonan's direction in the stands and muttered to himself: “Gu Jin, if it were you, what would you do?”

Sendo leaned against the stands, the mineral water bottle he was twirling stopped: “Coach Takato… is he burning his bridges?”

Taoka Moichi's gaze was somewhat complex, his eyes falling on Takato Riki.

They were opponents, but how could they not also be kindred spirits?

When the timeout ended and Hainan Team re-entered the court, their appearance carried a sense of tragedy.

Maki Shinichi had the ball, but his dribbling frequency was unusually slow.

The two rookies clenched their fists, not daring to move their feet when standing at the forward position.

Miyamasu and Jin Soichiro clung to the outside of the three-point line, like two kites hanging in the air.

Sato Jiro smiled — Hainan Team truly had no one left.