(This chapter is a tribute to Kogure's persistence. Because of Gu Jin's presence, and Sakuragi Hanamichi also being at Ryonan, Shohoku is destined not to go as far. And Kogure's persistence would have no chance to be told. However, adhering to the idea that everyone in Slam Dunk has their own shining moments and touching instances, I decided to give Kogure Kiminobu a spring!!!)

Possession changed, and the referee handed the ball to Maki Shinichi at the sideline.

His gaze swept across the court, finally landing on Hasegawa. With a slight flick of his wrist, he bounce-passed the ball to Hasegawa.

The steal just now was like a thorn, stuck in Hasegawa's heart. He absolutely had to score this ball; he wanted to prove himself with one shot.

The moment Hasegawa received the ball, all his muscles tensed up.

"I'm going to prove myself!" Hasegawa gritted his teeth, the flame of desire for recognition burning fiercely in his heart.

He dribbled sideways and charged towards the restricted area.

Uozumi's defensive position was slightly off, this fleeting gap was his only chance.

"No way!" Godai Tomokazu reacted extremely quickly, sliding his feet sideways to shift over, his long arms covering the ball in Hasegawa's hands like an iron net.

Hasegawa's heart tightened. He wanted to change direction to evade, but Godai's help defense was airtight.

He gritted his teeth and forced a jump, trying to throw the ball towards the rim before losing balance, but then Godai Tomokazu leaped up, slapping the basketball hard!

"Swat!" With a crisp sound, the ball was firmly blocked, bouncing towards mid-court.

"Great block!" Gu Jin's shout almost coincided with the sound of the block.

He shot out like an arrow from a bow, his body stretching in the air, his fingertips scooping the ball back into his embrace just as it was about to go out of bounds. As he landed, he smoothly dribbled backward, standing steadily outside the three-point line.

Maki Shinichi almost immediately turned and chased after him, his eyes sharp as an eagle's.

Gu Jin, however, didn't look at him. His peripheral vision had already locked onto Godai Tomokazu on his right.

At this moment, Godai Tomokazu was using his momentum to shake off Kogure, running towards the open space outside the three-point line—Kogure's footwork wasn't slow, but Godai Tomokazu's burst was too fast, and a half-step distance instantly opened up between them.

"Godai Tomokazu!" Gu Jin flicked his wrist, and the basketball was precisely delivered into Godai Tomokazu's hands.

As Godai Tomokazu caught the ball, Kogure had already pursued him vigorously, reaching out to steal the ball.

But Godai Tomokazu was prepared, dribbling with a sudden stop and change of direction, using the inertia to create space again.

Just then, a dark figure pounced from the side—it was Maki Shinichi! He had abandoned Gu Jin, using astonishing speed to get into position for help defense, his long arm threatening the ball in Godai Tomokazu's hand.

"Even if you're A Mu from Hainan, you won't stop me!" Godai Tomokazu roared, his body suddenly leaning backward, almost parallel to the ground.

Facing Maki Shinichi's block, he flicked his wrist gently, and the basketball, with a strong spin, arced high towards the basket.

Kogure stood not far away, watching Godai Tomokazu's movements, subconsciously holding his breath.

He knew Godai Tomokazu's three-pointer was accurate, but shooting under a block of Maki Shinichi's caliber, the success rate was too low... A strange anticipation rose in his heart, hoping the shot wouldn't go in.

"Swish!"

The crisp sound of the net broke the momentary silence.

The basketball went in without touching the rim!

According to the rules, a three-pointer from outside the arc counts as 2 points, and the score instantly became 4:0!

Godai Tomokazu forcefully pumped his fist as he landed, his face full of excitement.

Gu Jin smiled at him and high-fived him.

Maki Shinichi frowned, his gaze at Godai Tomokazu now carrying a hint of seriousness.

He hadn't expected this Tsukubu shooter to possess such strong mental fortitude.

Kogure pushed up his glasses, the gaze behind the lenses exceptionally persistent.

After Godai Tomokazu made that shot, the offense and defense switched, and it was Kogure and his team's turn to possess the ball.

Maki Shinichi bent down to take the ball from the referee, his fingertips gently caressing the surface of the ball.

Godai's three-pointer against the block just now was like a pebble thrown into his heart, but the ripples were quickly suppressed by his calmness—he was the pillar of this team, and he would never let the rhythm be swayed by the opponent.

"Kogure." He suddenly turned his head and called out, his voice not loud but clearly reaching Kogure's ears.

Kogure was startled, subconsciously nodding.

He knew what Maki Shinichi meant, but he hadn't expected the opponent to so directly focus attention on him.

Maki Shinichi dribbled forward, and Gu Jin immediately stuck to him, his defensive stance airtight.

Just as the two were about to confront each other, Hasegawa suddenly burst out from the side, standing firmly beside Gu Jin, using his body to form a screen—a standard pick-and-roll.

The moment Gu Jin was screened by Hasegawa, Maki Shinichi had already shot towards the restricted area like an arrow from a bow.

Godai Tomokazu immediately abandoned Kogure Kiminobu to help defend, but Maki Shinichi's speed was simply too fast. As his feet landed near the free-throw arc, he was already airborne, as if about to perform a direct dunk.

"No way!"

Uozumi quickly jumped to block, completely covering A Mu.

Just when everyone thought Maki Shinichi was going for a forceful layup, his body, suspended in mid-air, suddenly paused slightly. His right wrist incredibly flicked sideways and backward—the basketball passed through a gap in the crowd, as if pulled by a magnet, precisely landing in Kogure's hands outside the three-point line.

"Now's the time!" Kogure's whole body trembled.

When Godai scored earlier, that strange anticipation in his heart was like a fine needle, pricking him with both shame and unwillingness.

He recalled countless times in the past when he was overlooked in games, recalling how Shohoku always seemed to be an unnoticed corner. Now, the basketball in his palm felt warm.

Godai Tomokazu's retreat steps were fast, but Kogure didn't hesitate at all.

He remembered the arc of his countless morning shots in the gym.

Jump, raise arm, flick wrist.

The movements were as fluid as if practiced a thousand times. The moment the basketball left his fingertips, Kogure even saw the texture on the ball.

"Swish!"

Another crisp swish, even more resolute than Godai's shot just now.

The score became 4:2.

As Kogure landed, his right hand still held the shooting posture, his glasses reflecting the court lights.

He turned to look at Maki Shinichi, who, uncharacteristically, nodded at him.

Hasegawa ran over and patted him on the back. Only then did Kogure slowly lower his arm, a slight smile involuntarily curving his lips.

It felt so good to be trusted.

His own made shot could also make his teammates cheer for him.

He clenched his fist, that bit of persistence in his heart burning brighter like a flame—he wanted to make more shots in this game, and prove more.

In the back of the spectator stands, a girl quietly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingertips still tingling slightly from having tightly gripped a cheering stick.

She gazed at the figure on the court who pushed up his glasses and was bending down to prepare for defense, a smile unconsciously curving her lips.

That summer afternoon, club activities ended late. She was carrying a stack of art supplies, passing by the gymnasium, when she saw Kogure practicing shooting alone in the gym.

The setting sun streamed in diagonally through the window, illuminating his clumsy body and movements in such an unforgettable way.

That day, she stood outside the wall and watched for a long time, until Kogure finally made a shot, a swish, and excitedly stumbled, that awkward yet earnest look somehow etched itself into her heart.

The cheers from around them surged in waves, but she quietly whispered in her heart, "Good shot," like a secret only she knew.

Kogure on the court was fully focused on the opponent's movements. He had never imagined that this quiet gaze from the stands had accompanied him for three summers.