“We won!”

Aida Hikoichi’s roar was like a spark, igniting the blue of the Ryonan bench.

Ikegami Ryoji stood beside him, his lips, usually a straight line, stretched into a wide grin.

He fumbled for a towel, intending to wipe his sweat, but instead wiped the corner of his eye—when Gu Jin and Sakuragi passed the ball in the air, his knuckles, gripping the towel, had turned white, and only now did he feel the pain in his palm.

Meanwhile, Uozumi Jun, outside the crowd, had long lost the ferocity he displayed when guarding Kawata during the game.

He stood there with his hands on his hips, his tall body trembling slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing for a long time before he finally roared in a muffled voice, “Why are you all just standing there like idiots? Get on the court!” Before he finished speaking, he took two steps himself, his eyes red as he looked towards Gu Jin and Sakuragi—those two boys were still surrounded by their teammates, Sakuragi’s red hair bobbing in the crowd like a vigorously burning fire.

Taoka Moichi stood at the very edge of the bench, and no one saw his expression when his back was turned to the court.

It wasn’t until Aida Hikoichi looked up while picking up the scoresheet that he saw the coach wiping his face with his sleeve—it wasn’t to wipe sweat; the movement was hurried, as if he was afraid of being seen.

“Coach!” Hikoichi ran over, holding the board, “Did you see that tactic just now…?”

Taoka Moichi suddenly turned around, his eyes behind his glasses shining frighteningly, yet he still said in a stern voice, “What are you looking at! Write it down! Gu Jin’s aerial pass, Sakuragi’s secondary pick-and-roll, and Uozumi’s box-out on Nobe—write it all down clearly! This is how Ryonan should be!”

As soon as he finished speaking, Uozumi Jun patted him on the shoulder from behind, his voice filled with emotion.

“You brats…” he muttered, his lips, however, curved into a wide smile, “You finally didn’t make me endure these past few years for nothing.”

In the gymnasium on the other side, just as the whistle blew, Kiyota Nobunaga, while on offense, caught a glimpse of the gray-blue shadow under the basket—Sota Sasuke’s sturdy 193-centimeter frame stood in the paint, almost pushing Hainan’s reserve center, Da Teng, out of the restricted area.

“Bang!”

Muto Tadashi’s mid-range shot hit the front rim and bounced up. Sota Sasuke didn’t even look at where the ball would land, only instinctively squeezed half a step under the basket.

Da Teng tried to raise his hand to grab the rebound, but his arm was only halfway up when Sota Sasuke firmly blocked him with his back. He stumbled and crashed into the backboard support, letting out a muffled groan.

Sota Sasuke, as if oblivious, reached out and cradled the ball in his arms. His way of gripping the ball always had a stiff quality, like holding a barbell during weightlifting.

“31:44! Rikawa is still leading by 13 points!” The commentator’s voice by the court carried a hint of surprise, “Hainan’s reserve center, Da Teng, really can’t hold his own! It’s only been a few minutes since Kosha Kazuma fouled out with three fouls, and Rikawa has almost monopolized all the rebounds!”

On Hainan’s bench, Takato Riki frowned, looking at the court.

Kosha Kazuma was sitting on a chair, wiping sweat, his brows furrowed like a tangled mess—he had tried to get around Sota Sasuke to grab an offensive rebound earlier, accidentally brushing his elbow against an opponent’s arm, which led to the referee calling his third foul.

Now, seeing Da Teng pinned under the basket by Sota Sasuke, unable to move, he belatedly grew anxious, “Coach, should I go back in? I’ll just be careful not to foul.”

Takato Riki didn’t say anything, tapping his fingertips on the tactics board.

On the court, Kawaguchi Shota had already lobbed the ball to Sota Sasuke under the basket.

The big man was still the same when he received the ball, cradling it in both hands, lowering his head, and charging towards the basket—Da Teng gritted his teeth, trying to block him, but as soon as he met Sota Sasuke’s shoulder, he felt like he had hit a moving wall, stumbling back two steps, watching helplessly as Sota Sasuke stuffed the ball into the hoop.

“Swish!” The ball went in. 31:46.

As Sota Sasuke landed, he didn’t forget to glare at Da Teng, his gaze direct and unyielding, just like when he had faced Morishige Hiroshi earlier.

Da Teng ran back, his ears bright red—he had played basketball for two years and had never been bullied with such “brute force” before.

“Da Teng! Don’t try to match his strength! Play around him!” Maki Shinichi shouted as he dribbled past half-court.

He was about to direct his teammates to run a play when he saw Sota Sasuke suddenly rush out from under the basket, spreading his arms to block between him and Da Teng.

The big man didn’t run fast, but his shoulders were incredibly wide, effectively blocking the passing lane between the two of them.

Maki Shinichi frowned, trying a crossover dribble to get past, but as soon as he moved half a step, he felt his elbow hit something soft yet firm—Sota Sasuke had actually moved with him, gently nudging him with his elbow.

The force wasn’t great, but it perfectly disrupted his dribbling rhythm.

“Beep!” The referee’s whistle blew, “Rikawa No. 13, defensive foul!”

Sota Sasuke paused, scratched his head, and retreated—he still didn’t seem to understand what he had fouled on.

Watanabe Kenji walked over and patted his arm, whispering, “Don’t keep using your elbows to push people, just stand still.”

Sota Sasuke nodded, then stood firm under the basket again, like a meat dumpling planted there.

As Hainan inbounded the ball, Kiyota Nobunaga secretly leaned towards Maki Shinichi, “Captain, this big guy is like a rock, there’s no way to get around him! He’s a power forward playing center, and their center is up at the free-throw line. Their positioning is really annoying.”

Maki Shinichi didn’t speak, his gaze sweeping over Rikawa’s positioning—Itakura Yuta was indeed standing near the free-throw line, with only Sota Sasuke, the “meat shield,” remaining in the paint.

His gaze fell back on Sota Sasuke’s feet—the kid stood with his feet wide apart, knees slightly bent, still in his old “horse stance” from weightlifting.

Suddenly, he curled his lips and gave Da Teng a look.

Da Teng understood, and as he dribbled towards the basket, he deliberately veered to Sota Sasuke’s right.

Sota Sasuke indeed followed, moving to the right, but as soon as he moved his foot, he saw Da Teng suddenly stop short and whip the ball to the left—Maki Shinichi had just come around the baseline, caught the ball, and immediately passed it to Jin Soichiro.

“Swish!” Three-pointer, pure net. 34:46.

Hainan’s bench finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Takato Riki, however, didn’t smile; he just stared at Sota Sasuke—the big man stood still, and the look in his eyes at Maki Shinichi no longer had the same blankness as before, but instead a hint of contemplation, as if he was thinking, “How did he get past me just now?”

In the next possession, Kawaguchi Shota passed the ball to Watanabe Kenji.

Watanabe Kenji was about to drive when he saw Sota Sasuke suddenly run over from under the basket, spreading his arms to block in front of Kiyota Nobunaga.

The screen wasn’t perfectly set, and his arm almost hit Kiyota, but he still managed to effectively box him out.

Watanabe Kenji used the opening to drive towards the basket, and Hainan’s defense immediately shifted towards him—just then, Sota Sasuke suddenly ran two steps forward, perfectly blocking Maki Shinichi’s help defense route.

Maki Shinichi tried to go around, but was gently nudged by Sota Sasuke’s back, slowing him down by half a second.

It was this half-second that Watanabe Kenji flicked his wrist and passed the ball back—Sota Sasuke was standing near the free-throw line, and when he raised his hand to catch the ball, he surprisingly didn’t cradle it, but instead, mimicking Watanabe, gently pushed it with his wrist.

The basketball bounced off the rim twice and slowly dropped into the net. 34:48.

Sota Sasuke himself was stunned, scratched his head, and chuckled foolishly. Watanabe Kenji walked over and bumped his arm, “Not bad, that was a nice shot.”

Takato Riki’s frown deepened on the sidelines.

He looked at Kosha Kazuma, “Warm up some more. You have to play 2 minutes before halftime ends. This big guy… seems to be more than just a rock.”

Kosha Kazuma clenched his fist, his gaze falling on the gray-blue figure on the court who was still chuckling foolishly—he had thought earlier that his foul was just an accident, but now it seemed that behind this kid’s brute force, there might be a more troublesome “stubbornness” hidden.