Swish!

Nakagawa Hiroki's three-pointer from the baseline swished through the net, and the scoreboard updated to 25:15.

A burst of cheers erupted from the Meihou bench!

The Rikawa players stood on the court, their faces no longer showing their previous composure.

When Kawaguchi Shota bent down to pick up the ball, his fingertips brushed the floor, and he looked up at the bench—the coach was standing outside the sideline, waving his hand, palm pressed inward.

Beep—!

The whistle for Koikawa High School's timeout sounded.

Watanabe Kenji pursed his lips as he walked off the court. When he passed Morishige Hiroshi, he didn't deliberately pause as he had before, only his steps hesitated for half a second.

Morishige Hiroshi was wiping the sweat from his palms, and his peripheral vision caught him. He frowned, said nothing, and turned to follow his teammates towards the coach.

In front of the Rikawa bench, the coach placed the tactics board on the ground and, without looking at anyone else, directly addressed the power forward Nomura Masato: "Nomura, you go take a rest first."

Nomura Masato was momentarily stunned—he had been bumped in the waist by Morishige Hiroshi while rebounding earlier, and it did feel a bit heavy, but it wasn't to the point where he absolutely needed to be substituted.

But he didn't ask further, only nodded, pulled off the wristband on his wrist, and walked towards the bench.

Rikawa quickly set up their tactics.

Gu Jin, in the stands, raised an eyebrow: "They're making a substitution?"

Sendo also leaned forward, his gaze fixed on the Rikawa bench—a Fat Man wearing a grey-blue school uniform was slowly standing up, picking up a jersey with "No. 13" printed on the back.

As he took off his school uniform and pulled the jersey over his head, his round shoulders were exposed, looking noticeably more robust than Nomura Masato had earlier.

"That's..." Gu Jin narrowed his eyes, "Rikawa's substitute power forward? I didn't see him during warm-ups."

On the court, No. 13 walked up to the referee to report his number, his voice muffled: "Rikawa, No. 13, Sota Sasuke."

The referee checked the score sheet, confirmed he had the correct person, and raised his hand to signal him onto the court.

As Sota Sasuke walked onto the court, the floor echoed with his heavy "thump-thump" steps.

He looked about the same height as Meihou's Iwata Kazuya, but his shoulders were absurdly wide. Standing next to Itakura Yuta, Itakura's 195 cm frame actually seemed a bit "slight."

"193 centimeters?" Aida Hikoichi quickly flipped through his notebook, his pen scratching furiously on the paper, "Rikawa's power forward... This person wasn't on the Prefectural Tournament roster before! Is he a hidden substitute?"

Taoka Moichi narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Sota Sasuke's back, and tapped his fingers on his knee: "He looks strong, but I wonder..."

Before he could finish, the ball was already in play.

After the timeout, Rikawa inbounded the ball.

Kawaguchi Shota crouched outside the sideline, holding the ball and looking onto the court—Sota Sasuke had just taken his position, awkwardly shuffling towards the basket. His 193 cm sturdy frame, standing diagonally in front of Morishige Hiroshi, indeed took up a significant amount of space.

"Sota!" Kawaguchi Shota shouted softly, then flicked his wrist and passed the ball.

Sota Sasuke didn't quite grasp the ball when he raised his hand to catch it; it slipped through his fingertips before he quickly hugged it. Clutching the ball, he didn't dare to dribble much, lowering his head and charging towards the basket—colliding directly with Morishige Hiroshi's arm, who was coming to meet him.

Morishige Hiroshi was rocked by the thoughtless collision and swayed. He frowned, just about to reach out to steal the ball, but Sota Sasuke, as if holding a dynamite package, threw the ball towards Itakura Yuta.

Itakura Yuta reacted quickly, caught the ball, took half a step towards the basket, and shot a hook shot—

Bang! The ball bounced off the rim.

Morishige Hiroshi jumped to grab the rebound, but as soon as he was airborne, he felt a force pushing him from behind—Sota Sasuke had also jumped, pressing his chest firmly against him.

Morishige Hiroshi's center of gravity shifted, and his fingertips didn't reach the ball. Instead, Sota Sasuke, with a surge of brute force, slammed the ball into the hoop in mid-air—

Bang! The ball was smashed into the basket.

25:17.

Rikawa gained 2 points.

As Morishige Hiroshi landed, he glanced at Sota Sasuke. The Fat Man was grinning and panting, a bit of sweat on his face, his eyes blank with no extra emotion, as if he had just completed the simplest task.

"This guy is really a blockhead..." Morishige Hiroshi rubbed his stiff arm, which had been hit.

In the next possession, Meihou attacked.

Kinoshita Shota dribbled past half-court. Just as he was about to lob the ball to Morishige Hiroshi, he saw Sota Sasuke suddenly rush out from the paint, immediately moving close to Morishige Hiroshi, spreading his arms like a wall to block him.

Morishige Hiroshi tried to go around him to receive the ball, but Sota Sasuke moved with him, effectively boxing him out of the three-second area.

"Get out of the way." Morishige Hiroshi frowned and pushed him, but couldn't move him.

Sota Sasuke grunted, leaned closer to him, and said in a muffled voice: "You're quite strong."

Kinoshita Shota, without a passing target, had to dribble and look for an opportunity himself, and Kawaguchi Shota seized the moment to steal the ball.

Rikawa counter-attacked quickly. As Watanabe Kenji dribbled forward, he noticed Sota Sasuke was still "contending" with Morishige Hiroshi—Morishige Hiroshi was reaching out to push him, but Sota Sasuke stubbornly held his ground, and the two were locked in a stalemate under the basket.

"Sota! Let's go!" Watanabe Kenji shouted.

Sota Sasuke finally reacted, and as he turned to run to the frontcourt, he glared back at Morishige Hiroshi, as if to say, "I'll fight you next time."

Morishige Hiroshi stood in place, watching his back, and suddenly felt a strange sense of irritation—he had been playing basketball for so long, and this was the first time he had encountered an opponent who only relied on strength and not tactics.

In the stands, Aida Hikoichi ran back with his notebook, a bit of sweat still on his forehead. As soon as he sat down next to Taoka Moichi, he took two deep breaths: "Coach! I found out! This Sota Sasuke! He's a new student Koikawa recruited this year, and he used to be on the weightlifting team!"

Taoka Moichi raised an eyebrow: "Weightlifting team? You just ran down to ask?"

"Yes!" Aida Hikoichi wiped his sweat with his sleeve, opened his notebook, and pointed to the words he had just written, "I just saw his fighting style, it didn't look like an ordinary player, so I went to inquire!

—This Sota Sasuke trained in weightlifting until the third year of junior high. Their weightlifting team had a rule that for his weight class, his height shouldn't exceed 180 cm, otherwise, a higher center of gravity would put him at a disadvantage when exerting force. But he shot up to 193 cm in one year of junior high, and his coach said continuing weightlifting would just be fighting himself, so he switched to basketball!"

"Oh? So that's what it is." Taoka Moichi's eyes lit up, "No wonder he has brute strength without technique—his height wasn't for playing basketball; his height 'pushed' him into playing basketball."

On the other side, Takato Riki also stroked his chin and said: "No skill, no footwork, just relying on the strength built from weightlifting to brute force his way through. The invincible Morishige Hiroshi happens to meet such a 'meat shield,' it's really interesting."

On the court, Morishige Hiroshi was posting up, asking for the ball. As his fingertips touched the ball Kinoshita Shota lobbed to him, his back collided with a "wall"—Sota Sasuke, hunched over, pressed his hands firmly against his spine, his face flushed red, grunting and panting, his sneakers scuffing two white marks on the floor, yet he didn't allow him to move an inch towards the basket.

Morishige Hiroshi gritted his teeth and pushed back. The force that would usually make an opponent retreat half a step only elicited a grunt from Sota Sasuke today. "Get off me!" he roared, suddenly turning to try and go around him, but Sota Sasuke, though slow to react, seemed to have locked onto a coordinate, spreading his arms to block between the basket and him.

As Morishige Hiroshi turned, his elbow grazed Sota Sasuke's stomach. He clutched his stomach and stumbled, but still managed to push forward another half step.

Beep! The referee's whistle blew, "Meihou No. 15, offensive foul!"

Morishige Hiroshi was completely bewildered: "I didn't... he was blocking me with his body!"

The referee ignored him and signaled Rikawa to inbound the ball.

Sota Sasuke, holding his stomach, retreated to the side. He glanced at Morishige Hiroshi, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—that silly, bewildered smile irritated Morishige Hiroshi even more than Watanabe Kenji's earlier hidden provocations.

Gu Jin, in the stands, couldn't help but laugh, nudging Sendo's arm beside him: "This Aida Hikoichi is really good at gathering information; he figured out the whole situation in a flash."

Sendo also nodded, his lips curving: "Rikawa's 'surprise weapon' is also brilliant—to deal with Morishige Hiroshi, perhaps this kind of unreasonable approach is exactly what's needed."