Fujisawa Eri's words were like a basin of cold water, poured directly over Mike Okita's face.

He froze in place, the soreness in his bent knees hadn't receded, and the dull pain from hitting his back against the wall surged up again, but none of that compared to the sharp sting in his chest—her eyes only saw Gu Jin's injury, but she didn't notice how badly he had been beaten.

“I…” He tried to explain, but his throat felt blocked, and he could only watch helplessly as Fujisawa Eri walked past him, hurrying towards the corridor corner, as if afraid Gu Jin would go too far.

The anxiety in her retreating figure was more humiliating than Mito Yohei's elbow strike earlier.

Mito Yohei had already retracted the mop handle, the chill in his eyes had lessened, but he still remained vigilant.

Takamiya Nozomi leaned over and patted his shoulder: “Yohei, this guy can’t take a hit.” Oonan Yuuji also grunted: “He doesn’t even look at who’s throwing the punches.”

Mike Okita leaned against the wall, slowly getting up on one leg, wincing at the stinging pain from his ankle.

He looked in the direction Fujisawa Eri had disappeared, then lowered his gaze to his swollen ankle, and suddenly found it laughable—he had raged for her, been beaten to a pulp, yet she couldn't even spare a “Are you okay?”

Just like earlier on the court, he had deliberately endured his ankle injury to make the most beautiful play, jumping in pain every time, just so she could see how strong this team was.

But the light in her eyes was never for him.

“Miss Eri’s eyes, they only see that Gu Jin.” Ryokufu’s assistant, Nako Asamiya, was standing at the corridor entrance at some point, her tone a mix of sympathy and helplessness, “Mike, stop making trouble, or it will be impossible to clean up.”

Mike Okita clenched his fists suddenly, his nails digging deeply into his palms.

He remembered the blue and black tracksuit Fujisawa Eri always wore, and the deliberately simulated scuff marks on her shoes.

It turned out that from the beginning, their entire team was just trying to replicate a shadow, Gu Jin's shadow.

Fujisawa Eri, thwarted again, returned, her face still showing lingering anger. Seeing Mike Okita standing still, she merely frowned: “Stop messing around, let’s go back.”

No concern, no inquiry, more like dealing with a troublesome matter.

Mike Okita suddenly laughed, his laughter tinged with self-mockery. He straightened up and, enduring the pain, took a step.

Fujisawa Eri was momentarily stunned, watching his stubborn back, her frown deepening, but she said nothing more.

At the end of the corridor, the Sakuragi Legion watched the scene. Takamiya Nozomi scratched his head: “That blond monkey, he seems a bit miserable.”

Mito Yohei withdrew his gaze and said indifferently: “It has nothing to do with us.”

It turned out that for those not favored, everything they did was wrong.

At 3:00 PM, the gymnasium was steaming with heat. The moment the referee's whistle blew, Sendoh Akira received a long pass from Tomoyuki Uekusa beyond the three-point line, dribbled behind his back to shake off his defender, then smoothly turned and shot a jump shot. The basketball arced high and fell into the net—3:0, 12 seconds into the game.

Kaohsiung's veteran guard tried to replicate last year's game-winning strategy. As soon as he dribbled past half-court, Ikegami Ryoji stuck to him like a shadow, his fingertips precisely poking the side of the ball, stealing it and pushing it to the fast-breaking Koshino Hiroaki.

The latter stopped abruptly at the free-throw line, pulled up in mid-air to evade the defensive help, and shot the ball into the hoop with a reverse layup. The whistle blew simultaneously, a 2+1 call, and he landed, nodding towards the bench.

Gu Jin sat in the front row of the bench, his left knee wrapped in a thick ice pack, but his gaze was firmly fixed on the court.

Uozumi Jun boxed out Kaohsiung's center under the basket, received a lob pass from Sendoh, and slammed the ball into the hoop, making the backboard hum. As he landed, he pounded his chest, his peripheral vision sweeping towards Gu Jin's direction. Seeing a smile on the other's lips, his voice grew louder: “Next one!”

As time passed, with 9 minutes left in the game, Ryonan's fast break had become a destructive force.

After Sendoh stole the ball, he threw a no-look, long pass across half-court. Sakuragi didn't even need to slow down when he received the ball, jumping directly from the free-throw line and completing a powerful dunk over the defending player.

When the scoreboard showed 128:42, Kaohsiung's coach clutched his tactics board, his knuckles white, but he didn't call another timeout—the young players on the bench already had their heads down, almost out of strength to even lift their arms.

Before the final whistle, the score of 156:64 was fixed on the screen.

Amidst the cheers from on and off the court, Ryonan's sharpest confidence was hidden.

The discussions in the stands spread like a tide. Looking at the celebrating Ryonan players on the court, they couldn't help but exclaim: “Ryonan is so strong! This momentum is too fierce, they play as if they have the same eyes!”

The person next to them nodded repeatedly: “It’s not just Ryonan? Ryokufu won by 90 points this morning, and Shoyo also crushed their opponent at noon. Plus Ryonan’s 156 points now… these three games today were simply one-sided massacres!”

“This year’s Prefectural Tournament is interesting,” a fan in the back row flipped through the schedule, his fingertip on the division map, “Fortunately, these three teams in the quarterfinals are not in the same half, so they won’t meet. Once they reach the semifinals, that’s when it’s real—Ryokufu’s fast break, Shoyo’s twin towers, Ryonan’s overall play, just thinking about it makes your blood boil!”

Someone chimed in: “I’m a bit excited for the semifinals, it’s sure to be spectacular! When Ryokufu and Ryonan face off, we’ll see with their similar playstyles, who is truly stronger!”

Amidst the discussions, Taoka Moichi was stuffing his tactics board into his bag. Hearing this, he looked back and a subtle curve formed on his lips—spectacular? Of course. But his Ryonan would be the one standing last.

In the following days, the National Tournament’s Round of 16 concluded swiftly, and the Kanagawa Prefecture’s 4-team playoff bracket was freshly released.

First game: June 1st, 9:30 AM – Hainan University Affiliated High School vs. Seirin High School

Second game: June 4th, 10:10 AM – Tsukubu High School vs. Shoyo High School

Third game: June 8th, 9:30 AM – Ryokufu High School vs. Lehao High School

Fourth game: June 10th, 9:40 AM – Ryonan High School vs. Shonan Keizai Affiliated High School

During this period, Gu Jin’s leg injury was no longer serious. His running and jumping during training had returned to their usual agility, so much so that Taoka Moichi couldn't help but glance at him a few extra times during training breaks, a subtle satisfaction hidden in the corner of his mouth.

In front of the tactics board at Ryonan Gymnasium, Taoka Moichi circled several names on the schedule with a marker, his voice booming: “Today's latest results—Shoyo defeated Tsukubu 88:69, securing their spot in the semifinals. Along with Hainan, who qualified earlier, these two old rivals have already claimed their positions in the final four.”

He paused, his fingertip tracing another line of text: “Lehao High School is indeed a dark horse this year, but Ryokufu should not be underestimated either. On the 8th, our entire team will go watch the game.”

Finally, he put the pen down on the table, his gaze sweeping over the Ryonan players: “Next, we’re up against Shonan Keizai. Their performance in recent games has been average, so defeating them shouldn't be a big problem.”

Just as a relaxed smile began to appear on the Ryonan players’ faces, Taoka Moichi’s voice suddenly dropped, like a block of ice plunging into hot water: “Don’t get carried away!”

He suddenly jabbed the marker at three names on the tactics board, with such force that the tip almost pierced the cardboard: “This year’s semifinals will be a hellish battle!

Although Maki Shinichi of Hainan lost to Gu Jin and Sendoh in the individual competition, the Hainan Team's offensive tactics can tear through any defense;

Shoyo's overall strength is also very high, especially Fujima Kenji; that kid is playing more and more smoothly, and I heard that Shoyo High School's administration promised them a coach if they make it to the semifinals;

And Ryokufu—a team built with how much money Fujisawa Group poured into it, every player is a monster, and their playstyle is directly opposed to ours!”

He looked up, scanning everyone, his gaze like tempered steel needles: “Want to go to the National Tournament? Every game in the semifinals will require us to grind our bones to dust and fight! If anyone dares to slack off, I will absolutely deal with him!”

The air, which had been somewhat buoyant just moments before, instantly solidified. Uozumi Jun instinctively straightened his back, and Sendoh Akira's fingers, which had been spinning the basketball, lost their force.

Gu Jin looked at the word “Ryokufu” circled on the tactics board, his fingertips gently pinching his palm—Coach Taoka was not wrong; this year's semifinals, indeed, would not have a single game where they could breathe easy.