In the stands, near the players'lounge area, the people from Hainan and Ryonan sat not far apart.

Taoka Moichi leaned forward, tapping his fingers on his knee, his eyes fixed on Watanabe Kenji, who was bending down to tie his shoelaces on the court—that last 2+1 had made his brow furrow even deeper.

When he turned his head to talk to Aida Hikoichi beside him, his tone still carried a hint of unsuppressed gravity: “Did you see clearly? This Watanabe isn't just relying on brute force; that change of direction to get past Miyato just now, his timing was more precise than anyone’s.”

Aida Hikoichi quickly flipped through his notebook, drawing a thick line under “Watanabe Kenji” with his pen: “Yes, Coach, not only can he attack himself, but just now when Itakura was grabbing the rebound, he also boxed out Iwata near the free-throw line… Meihou, without Morishige Hiroshi now, can't defend the inside, and their outside is being run ragged by him.”

“More than just run ragged,” Taoka Moichi snorted, his gaze sweeping over Morishige Hiroshi, who was warming up his wrists on Meihou’s bench, “What good will it do even if Morishige Hiroshi goes in later? He already has three fouls, doesn’t he? If Watanabe draws two more fouls from him, he’ll be sent off—what will Meihou use to compete with Rikawa then?”

He paused, pointing his finger towards the court, “The key is that no one can deal with Watanabe right now.

Meihou’s guards struggle to defend Kawaguchi, how can they even think about him? If they keep playing like this, they’re definitely going to lose.”

Meihou and Aiwa Academy were two extremes; one lost in the paint, the other failed on the perimeter.

If Morohoshi Dai and Morishige Hiroshi were on the same team, it would be a different story, but unfortunately… there are no ifs!

Aida Hikoichi quickly nodded, his pen writing “Watanabe Kenji: Meihou’s biggest current threat” in his notebook.

As he looked up, he happened to see Takato Riki from Hainan next door also speaking, his voice not loud, but he could vaguely hear the name “Maki.”

Takato Riki was indeed talking to Maki Shinichi beside him, holding a thermos cup in his hand: “Maki, watch carefully. If we meet Rikawa in the next game, your main focus is to defend this Watanabe.”

Maki Shinichi didn't say a word, only his gaze fell on Watanabe Kenji—after that man made his free throw, he didn't celebrate with his teammates, but just stood there watching Meihou's timeout strategy, his eyes very calm, not at all like someone who had just made a 2+1.

He watched for a long time before speaking, his voice very deep: “Coach means… Meihou is going to lose?”

Takato Riki didn't answer immediately. Only after the whistle for the end of the timeout on the court sounded, he softly “hmm’d,” and set his thermos cup aside: “Most likely.”

He scanned the Meihou players on the court, a hint of disdain in his tone, “Besides Morishige Hiroshi, what else does Meihou have to offer? Without Morishige Hiroshi, Meihou is not worth mentioning! But he is a freshman after all, his experience is too poor.”

He paused, his gaze returning to Watanabe Kenji, this time with a bit more seriousness in his eyes: “With Watanabe anchoring Rikawa, their inside and outside can connect.

Even if Meihou puts Morishige Hiroshi in, he’ll have to defend Rikawa’s inside and also keep an eye on Watanabe’s breakthroughs, trying to cover both ends. With Morishige Hiroshi’s temper, if Watanabe provokes him a couple more times, he might foul out directly—at that point, they’ll be completely hopeless.”

Maki Shinichi nodded, said nothing more, and simply looked back at the court.

It was Meihou's possession, and Morishige Hiroshi indeed came onto the court. As soon as he stood under the basket, he glared fiercely at Watanabe Kenji.

Watanabe Kenji, as if he hadn't seen it, just whispered something to Kawaguchi Shota, a faint, almost imperceptible smile on his lips.

Taoka Moichi in the stands happened to see this scene and couldn't help but glance in Takato Riki's direction—just as Takato Riki looked over.

Both of them froze for a moment, then looked away, but neither spoke again.

On the court, Kinoshita Yota lobbed the ball to Morishige Hiroshi.

Morishige Hiroshi received the ball and immediately drove towards the basket. Itakura Yuta was pushed back half a step by him, but just as Morishige Hiroshi was about to jump, Watanabe Kenji had already cut in from the side.

Taoka Moichi and Takato Riki both leaned forward almost simultaneously.

“Insidious!”

Taoka Moichi and Takato Riki’s voices almost collided. Taoka’s hand gripping the mineral water bottle tensed, and Takato Riki’s thermos cup on his knee wobbled.

The two exchanged glances, both seeing a hint of surprise in the other's eyes—Watanabe’s cut just now was too stealthy. He used the momentum of his run to get close to Morishige Hiroshi’s feet. He claimed it was defense, but in reality, he wanted to draw an offensive foul through body contact. Even if he didn't touch the ball, he could disrupt this offensive play.

But Morishige Hiroshi didn’t charge and crash like before.

He suddenly reined in his body, jumping straight up and down, without any aggressive moves!

“Bang!”

He slammed the basketball into the hoop with both hands, and the backboard vibrated with a hum.

After Morishige Hiroshi hung on the rim, he suddenly let go. As he looked down, he saw Watanabe fall to the ground—he hadn't brushed against Morishige Hiroshi, but instead, lost his footing and slipped half a step.

The referee’s whistle blew: “Rikawa number 11, defensive foul!”

Watanabe pushed himself up from the floor, dusted off his pants, didn’t look at the referee, nor at Morishige Hiroshi, but just glanced at Kawaguchi Shota, his eyes showing no ripples.

Morishige Hiroshi walked to the free-throw line.

Meihou's bench finally stirred a bit, the coach shouted from below: “Shoot steadily!” He took a deep breath, raised his hand, and shot—the ball bounced off the front rim and out.

“Tsk.” Taoka Moichi clicked his tongue in the stands, “Still green, too rushed on that free throw.”

Before his words even fell, there was a sudden commotion on the court.

Morishige Hiroshi didn't wait for the ball to land, but rushed over himself—Itakura Yuta and Nomura Masato were both jumping for the rebound, but he forcefully squeezed them apart from the middle.

Morishige Hiroshi flicked his fingertips, tipping the bounced ball back into his hands, and turned for another dunk!

“Bang!” Another dull thud.

The scoreboard jumped, 15:9.

Meihou fans, who had been quiet moments ago, suddenly erupted in cheers. Morishige Hiroshi landed, clenched his fist, and roared, his chest heaving violently. When he turned to look at Watanabe Kenji, his eyes held a hint of ruthlessness.

Takato Riki in the stands stroked his chin and said to Maki Shinichi: “It’s getting interesting. This kid wasn’t completely carried away; that dodge just now was quite clever.”

Taoka Moichi, however, didn't relax: “Dodging once is easy, dodging twice is hard. That look in Watanabe’s eyes, he’s probably already eyeing his foul count…”

Gu Jin's view was also different; he shouldn't suffer this kind of loss again!

After all, Morishige Hiroshi was just fierce, not stupid… On the court, Kawaguchi Shota bent down to pick up the ball, and whispered something to Watanabe Kenji as he handed it back.

Watanabe Kenji ran upcourt without the ball. As he passed Morishige Hiroshi, he paused his steps, and as if unintentionally, bumped his arm.

Morishige Hiroshi’s body stiffened, and he stood still with clenched fists—the referee’s gaze was on them.

Taoka and Takato both leaned forward again simultaneously.