The words, like a fine needle, silently pierced the tense air in the conference room.

Everyone present knew that Kosa Mihō's only son, Kosha Kazuma, was the starting center for Hainan University High School, and Takato Riki was instrumental in him securing that spot.

If not for Takato Riki's dedicated coaching, Kosha Kazuma would not have achieved his current success.

This personal connection, involving a junior, was far more moving than a simple argument.

Kosa Mihō's fingertip tapping on the table paused, her eyelids lowered, concealing the flicker of complexity in her eyes.

Her gaze swept over the names of the two Ryokufu players on the list, finally resting on Ozawa Nobuo's face, her tone gentle yet firm with unyielding conviction: "Chairman Ozawa, Coach Takato's insistence isn't necessarily entirely for Hainan's reputation.

The golden signboard of 'eighteen consecutive years of advancing to the National Tournament' wasn't built on luck—behind it lies the resilience forged through years of high-intensity competitions.

Players honed in such a team are those who can hold their ground at critical moments and possess extensive tournament experience."

She paused, attempting to subtly shift the argument by only mentioning the team and not individuals. "While Ryokufu has indeed been impressive this year, it is, after all, a new team making its first appearance among the top ranks of the Prefectural Tournament.

When a tough game reaches a stalemate, their players definitely won't have as much tournament experience as those from established teams."

She paused again, her fingertip tapping the edge of the list: "Since the preliminary list hasn't been finalized, why not give Maki Shinichi a spot?

Whether he can keep up with the pace and integrate into the system during the Autumn National Sports Festival's joint training, we'll only know after they practice.

This way, neither are the current strong players wronged, nor are the hearts of the old powerhouses chilled.

For the selection, it might be a more comprehensive approach."

Ozawa Nobuo looked at Kosa Mihō, then suddenly scoffed, crushing the cigarette butt in his ashtray, sparks flying and then extinguishing: "Takasago, do you even hear what you're saying?"

His finger heavily jabbed at the name "Sato Tatsuya," with such force it almost tore through the paper: "Tatsuya is the starting point guard for the U16 National Youth Team!

Last year, he represented Japan in the Asian Youth Championship, scoring 28 points and 10 assists against Korea, and fighting to the last second in the finals against China—and you're telling me he lacks tournament experience?"

"The Prefectural Tournament, for him, is nothing more than a domestic warm-up!" Ozawa's voice suddenly rose, his gaze sweeping over everyone present. "Ryokufu is a new team, but Sato Tatsuya has long been tempered on the international stage.

His composure and decisiveness under high pressure are three levels above some 'veterans' who only play within the prefecture!"

These words were like a heavy hammer striking the center of the conference room, and Kosa Mihō's face instantly flushed red.

She had indeed forgotten Sato's national youth team record, and her words now sounded particularly harsh.

Ozawa Nobuo gave her no room to recover, turning his gaze to Takato Riki, his eyes as cold as ice: "As for Hainan's so-called 'experience' of eighteen years, they only won the semi-final by injuring Ryokufu's starting center with dirty tactics—should this kind of underhanded 'experience' be brought to the Autumn National Sports Festival, making Kanagawa a laughingstock for the whole country?"

Takato Riki suddenly looked up, intending to retort, but Ozawa sharply cut him off: "I set this list so that Kanagawa can bring home the championship trophy!

Gu Jin's all-around ability, Sendoh's organization, Uozumi's dominance in the paint, plus Mitsui's shooting and Sato's international tournament experience—this is the lineup that can go head-to-head with Akita and Fukuoka!"

He grabbed the list and slapped it onto the table, the paper making a crisp "slap" sound: "Maki Shinichi? He can't even defend Sato's drives, what makes him deserving of a spot? Takasago, if you still can't get your priorities straight, then don't sit in the Vice Chairman's seat!"

Kosa Mihō's lips moved a few times, but in the end, she said nothing, only lowering her eyes in embarrassment.

Ozawa Nobuo looked at Takato Riki, his tone decisive: "The list will not be changed. If you want to protest to the Japan Basketball Association, go right ahead.

But a thorough investigation will only show everyone how Hainan wins games with underhanded tactics and how it stubbornly clings to its spots."

The conference room was deathly silent, with only the wall clock ticking, as if counting down to the end of this undisputed argument.

Takato Riki's clenched fists trembled slightly at his sides, but he ultimately couldn't utter another word.

He knew that Ozawa was determined this time; for Kanagawa's championship, he wouldn't spare anyone's feelings.

Ozawa Nobuo's voice suddenly turned cold, his gaze, like an ice-tempered knife, shot directly at Takato Riki: "Takato Riki, if you really want to make a scene and tear everything apart, then go ahead."

He leaned forward, his knuckles heavily rapping on the table, every word carrying an undeniable sense of oppression: "Since you don't care about Kanagawa Prefecture's reputation, then I can propose to the organizing committee right now—that Ryokufu and Hainan have a rematch."

"Let the two teams fairly decide the winner on the court, and see who truly deserves to be the powerhouse representing Kanagawa in the National Tournament!"

These words were like a clap of thunder in the conference room, and Takato Riki's face instantly turned pale.

He knew better than anyone that if it weren't for Kosha Kazuma's dirty play injuring Ming Gaoguang in the semi-final, Ryokufu's interior would not have collapsed, and whether Hainan would have won was still unknown.

If there really was a rematch, Hainan would most likely not fare well.

If they won, it would be one thing, but if they lost, Hainan's lifelong reputation would be ruined! And he himself would reach the end of his professional career!!!

Ozawa Nobuo watched his instantly stiff expression, a cold sneer playing on his lips: "What, scared now?" He leaned back in his chair, his tone regaining its usual authority, "If you dare to do it, you must dare to admit it.

Don't use underhanded victories as capital, and don't think about threatening the association with protests."

"I decide the list for the Autumn National Sports Festival. If you want to make a fuss, weigh the consequences."

Takato Riki's face alternated between green and white, as if he had been severely slapped several times.

He opened his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing, but no sound came out—a rematch? How could he dare?

His previously stiff neck slowly drooped, his tightly clenched fists weakly loosened, and the cold sweat seeping from between his fingers stained dark marks on his trousers.

The gazes cast his way were like needles piercing him, with mockery, disdain, and a hint of indescribable pity.

Taoka Moichi's action of lowering his head to sip tea, in his eyes, became a silent provocation.

Ozawa Nobuo's eyes, like an eagle watching its prey, showed no sign of backing down.

Takato Riki finally realized that this argument had no chance of success from the start, and continuing it would only expose Hainan's unsavory affairs completely.

He abruptly stood up, the chair legs scraping an ear-splitting sound across the floor.

Without saying a word, or looking at anyone, he turned around, looking dejected, opened the conference room door, and practically fled in disarray.

The door slammed shut with a "bang," leaving the room in silence, only the wall clock still ticking steadily, as if announcing the end of this farce.