“Tomorrow, Shohoku High School will come to Ryonan for a practice match. After this game, the Prefectural Tournament will kick off.” Taoka Moichi’s voice echoed in the gymnasium, carrying a hint of deliberate calm.

He turned his gaze to the tall figure in the corner, wiping a basketball: “Uozumi, this is a rare opportunity to face Akagi head-on. Seize it.”

“Yes, Coach,” Uozumi’s response was deep and powerful, his knuckles slightly white from the effort.

Gu Jin stood by the court, listening, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.

This practice match had finally arrived, but without Sakuragi Hanamichi in the lineup, could this Shohoku still be called the team that stirred up trouble?

As the thought arose, a sense of dullness welled up in his heart.

Shohoku’s decline seemed destined from the moment Sakuragi was absent.

Without that impulsive newcomer, Mitsui Hisashi in the story wouldn’t have taken those two hits that knocked out his teeth due to the conflict between Miyagi and Sakuragi, and perhaps the incident of Tetsuo bringing people to smash the gymnasium wouldn’t have occurred.

Even if that conflict still happened, without Sakuragi as an unexpected fighting force, the basketball players would most likely be beaten badly, and Mitsui would simply walk away without looking back.

It’s possible that even Miyagi would be suspended for participating in the brawl.

And Coach Anzai’s personality has always been to let things take their course, not to mention he had long forgotten that this junior high MVP, who was eager to join him, would never actively pull Mitsui back to the team.

Without Sakuragi’s rebounding frenzy, Miyagi’s lightning breakthroughs, and Mitsui’s sharpshooter aura, this Shohoku would probably not even touch the threshold of the Prefectural Tournament’s top eight.

In this case, Shoyo would most likely steadily advance to the semifinals, a situation that added a few more variables than the original plot.

Moreover, due to his intervention, Ryokufu High School also registered for this Prefectural Tournament.

Judging by the regional grouping rules, they would most likely be in the same group as Buryi—this game seemed to be moving in a more interesting direction.

And the day of Fukuda Kiccho’s return to the team was fast approaching, and furthermore, the current Sakuragi Hanamichi was no longer the hothead from the Shohoku storyline.

Not to mention his solid foundation in low-post positioning, and his flexible and steady footwork, even his shooting within the restricted area could maintain a stable 80% accuracy.

It could be said that Sakuragi Hanamichi at Ryonan had grown at a faster rate than in the original storyline, by more than one level.

Behind this was Taoka Moichi’s unreserved guidance—he poured almost all his energy into Sakuragi, personally overseeing every training session;

In contrast, in the original plot, it seemed only Ayako was by Sakuragi’s side, correcting his movements.

Moreover, Sakuragi also had Gu Jin, who could be a comprehensive sparring partner in terms of technique, awareness, and physical fitness.

With such a setup, it would be difficult for him not to become stronger quickly.

Although Sakuragi was eliminated in the second round of the individual competition, and only played one game in the three-on-three tournament before encountering Rukawa Kaede’s team, his current strength was already close to his peak state when Shohoku faced Ryonan in the original work.

Coach Taoka’s envisioned “perfect lineup” had now taken shape, and he even began to plan for the transition after Uozumi’s graduation.

The Ryonan starting five was clearly visible: Center Uozumi Jun, Power Forward Sakuragi Hanamichi, Small Forward Fukuda Kiccho, Point Guard Sendoh Akira, Shooting Guard Gu Jin.

What was even rarer was that both Sendoh and Gu Jin were versatile players who could cover the forward positions, capable of both driving with the ball and off-ball movement.

In terms of physical fitness and height ratio, this team was impeccable: Center 202 cm, Power Forward 188 cm, Small Forward 188 cm, Point Guard 190 cm, Shooting Guard also 190 cm.

Such a height combination was rare even nationwide.

He seemed to see the moment Ryonan would win the championship!!!

The next morning, the wooden floor of the Ryonan Gymnasium gleamed, and as the gymnasium doors were gently pushed open, Coach Anzai peered in first.

Behind him followed the Shohoku team, Akagi Takenori’s shoulders almost brushing the doorframe, and Rukawa Kaede walked at the back with his bag, earphone wires hanging from his hoodie collar, covering half his face.

“Coach Anzai,” Taoka Moichi stood respectfully in the center of the court, a wide smile on his face.

Gu Jin’s gaze swept over the Shohoku lineup, his brow subtly twitching—as expected, the configuration was indeed low.

The game started quickly.

During the jump ball, Akagi’s and Uozumi’s palms collided in mid-air, producing a dull thud.

The basketball was tipped by Akagi to his own half, and Yasuda was about to dribble forward when Sendoh, like a white flash of lightning, diagonally cut in, gently poking the side of the ball with his fingertips, causing it to roll along Yasuda’s ankle towards the sideline.

“So fast!” As Kogure exclaimed, Sakuragi had already rushed to the ball with quick steps; the moment he bent down to pick it up, Akagi’s shadow had already loomed over him.

But this time, Sakuragi didn’t charge recklessly as he had in the past; instead, he backed into Akagi’s chest, his wrist lightly flicking the ball back to the trailing Uekusa.

“That red-haired guy is so quick. I haven’t seen him before, is he a first-year?” Akagi watched Sakuragi’s fluid footwork as he turned, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

That back-to-the-basket post-up just now showed no flaws at all.

Ryonan’s first wave of offense came swiftly.

Uekusa lobbed the ball to Uozumi in the restricted area; Akagi immediately stuck close to him, and as their arms locked in a struggle, Uozumi suddenly flipped his wrist, and the ball passed under his armpit, landing in the hands of the cutting Sendoh.

Rukawa Kaede’s defense stuck to him like a magnet, but Sendoh calmly dribbled behind his back, used Sakuragi’s screen to shift half a step, and shot from beyond the three-point line—

“Swish!” The net rippled like white waves.

On Shohoku’s offensive end, Rukawa Kaede received a pass from Yasuda and immediately pulled up for a jump shot over Koshino’s defense.

As the basketball arced and fell into the hoop, he didn’t even give his opponent a celebratory look, turning and running back.

“A little interesting,” Gu Jin sat on the bench, tapping his knee with his fingertips. Rukawa Kaede’s isolation play was still sharp, but without Miyagi’s penetration and dish-outs, he had to face at least a double-team every time he received the ball.

By the sixth minute of the game, Sakuragi received a pass from Sendoh under the basket.

Akagi’s large hand was almost covering his face, but Sakuragi suddenly took a step to his left, avoiding the block while lightly flicking his wrist, and the basketball grazed the top of the backboard before falling into the hoop.

“A genius’s accuracy isn’t just talk,” Taoka straightened his back on the coach’s bench, the wrinkles around his eyes smoothing out.

Akagi was thoroughly enraged by this layup.

In the next possession, he aggressively posted up Uozumi in the paint, muscling him back half a step before turning and slamming the ball down, making the hoop hum.

As he landed, he stared at Sakuragi, sweat dripping from his jawline onto the floor: “This is what a low-post play is!”

Sakuragi didn’t reply, just grinned, revealing his white teeth.

“This guy is really like a big gorilla, and he even roars.”

On the next offense, he received the ball in the same position, and facing Akagi’s renewed block, he suddenly pulled the ball behind him, used Uozumi’s screen to cut to the free-throw line, and made a jump shot.

“Damn it!” Akagi’s fist clenched at his side. This red-haired guy’s reaction was incredibly fast.

At halftime, Ryonan led 42:31.

Rukawa Kaede scored 15 points in the quarter, but he couldn’t withstand Ryonan’s multi-pronged attack—Sendoh’s facilitation involved every teammate in the offense, and Sakuragi grabbed 6 rebounds under the basket, 4 of which were offensive rebounds.

In the locker room, Yasuda’s jersey was soaked with sweat: “Akagi-senpai, their teamwork is too...”

“Ryonan is strong,” Akagi wiped his face, his voice hoarse but fierce, “In the second half, I’ll control the rebounds.”

In fact, they all knew that Ryonan’s Gu Jin hadn’t even played yet, and they were already struggling.

Rukawa Kaede leaned against the wall, looking out at the sky through the window. It made him feel inexplicably heavy-hearted.

Meanwhile, in Ryonan’s locker room, Sakuragi was pestering Sendoh: “Hey, was that shot by this genius just now cool or what?”

Sendoh smiled and patted his head, while Uozumi wiped sweat nearby, a hint of his past anxiety replaced by calm in his eyes.

Gu Jin watched this scene and suddenly felt that Taoka’s “perfect lineup” might be more than just a stack of height and skill.