Offense and defense switched.
Akagi Takenori stood at the baseline, holding the ball with both hands.
The atmosphere on the court instantly shifted.
It was Shohoku's possession.
His eyes scanned the court like lightning and locked onto Aoi Kunisaku.
Right now, Aoi was being tightly double-teamed by two Tsukubu players. Things didn't look good.
Akagi hesitated. Should he really listen to Aoi?
Passing it over like this would be way too risky.
His instincts told him to trust Aoi. But his reasoning screamed that this was suicide.
In the end, he gritted his teeth and made up his mind.
Recalling all of Aoi's earlier plays, he decided to take the gamble.
Without another second of delay, Akagi snapped his wrist. The ball shot toward Aoi like a cannonball.
Nango Koichiro spotted it coming, smirked, and sneered, "Idiot. I already told you—you're not getting the ball!"
He and Mine Kenta lunged at Aoi, trying to trap him completely between them so he couldn't move.
But as they lunged, both froze.
The body they expected to hit wasn't there. There was nothing.
What the hell?
They looked quickly—there was no sign of Aoi between them. The guy had completely vanished.
While they were still stunned, a big hand calmly caught Akagi's pass.
The one who caught it—none other than Aoi Kunisaku, now totally free from the double team.
Everyone's jaws dropped.
Just seconds ago, he'd been locked down tight. How had he suddenly appeared in the passing lane?
Most of the crowd hadn't even noticed when he slipped the double team.
Tsukubu's players were baffled, not knowing what to do.
Even Shohoku's players were stunned, exchanging confused looks.
Nango Koichiro and Mine Kenta noticed the strange looks around them. They quickly followed the crowd's gaze.
But before they could see anything, a gust of wind blew across their faces.
Then came the distant pounding of a dribbling basketball behind them.
Thump… Thump… Thump…
What?!
Nango and Mine spun around, shocked.
The player sprinting down the court with the ball was Aoi Kunisaku—the very guy they'd just been guarding.
"How the hell did he do that?!" Nango's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
Mine looked just as stunned, completely blank.
Godai Tomokazu saw what was happening and shouted, "Get back on defense!"
The Tsukubu players snapped out of it and all took off after Aoi.
Izumi Takashi was closest to their own basket. He gritted his teeth, gave up guarding Rukawa Kaede, and sprinted back. He posted up early under the basket, planning to stop Aoi at the key.
But what he didn't expect was that Aoi's dribbling speed would be that crazy.
Aoi seemed to leap through space itself. In what felt like a blink, he was already right in front of Izumi.
Izumi flinched hard. Before he could react, Aoi had already slammed on the brakes.
The sight gave Izumi a weird sense of frame skipping, like the scene just glitched.
At the same time, Aoi stopped on a dime and jumped high, lifting the ball overhead to aim at Tsukubu's hoop.
Izumi snapped back to his senses and jumped, reaching out to block.
But he seemed to forget the height difference between them. His hand barely reached halfway up Aoi's arm.
All he could do was watch helplessly as Aoi released the ball.
The basketball flew over Izumi's head and dropped clean through the net behind him.
Swish—
Basket in.
Shohoku 4–8 Tsukubu.
The whole gym went dead silent.
A few seconds passed, then waves of shock and chatter exploded from the stands.
"He's so fast! That's Shohoku's No. 9, right?"
"Holy crap! I only saw a flash of red, and then the ball was in!"
"He dribbled that fast?! Did you guys notice? Tsukubu couldn't even catch him!"
"His name's Aoi Kunisaku, right? I heard he's even better than Rukawa Kaede. Guess that wasn't just talk!"
"That sudden stop was insane. It felt like he hit a wall or something. I've never seen anything like that."
…
There's a saying: experts see the technique, amateurs see the show.
Most of the crowd just thought Aoi's sudden stop looked cool.
But people who really knew basketball saw something different.
Like Maki Shinichi, Fujima Kenji, and Hanagata Toru.
All three were veterans with sharp eyes for detail on the court.
Aoi's sudden stop just now left them speechless.
The contrast from top speed to instant stillness was something only a monster could pull off.
The calm expressions they'd worn while watching the game were gone. Now, all three of them looked dead serious.
Offense and defense switched again.
It was Tsukubu's turn to inbound.
They stuck to the same strategy as before.
The ball moved quickly between their players, crossing half-court in a flash.
Nango Koichiro rushed into Shohoku's paint first, eagerly waiting for a pass.
Right then, the ball reached Mine Kenta.
Suddenly, Aoi Kunisaku appeared out of nowhere and blocked his path.
Mine quickly got into triple-threat position and squared up with Aoi.
The two locked eyes from a short distance.
Mine tried to drive past Aoi's defense.
But after a few attempts, not only could he not shake Aoi, his space kept shrinking.
A drop of cold sweat slid down Mine's forehead. "What kind of defense is this?"
He tried everything—direction changes, hand switches, fake-outs—but nothing worked. Aoi stuck to him like glue.
Seeing his teammate stuck, Natsume Hiroshi circled behind Aoi, planning to block him from the rear to help Mine break free.
Mine caught the signal and quickly lured Aoi toward Natsume.
Their teamwork was tight and subtle.
Everyone thought Aoi would run straight into Natsume.
But just before contact, Aoi suddenly spun hard to the right—executing a smooth 360-degree C-turn—and slipped right around Natsume.
He reappeared in front of Mine again like nothing had happened.
The motion was so fluid and clean, it felt like Aoi completely ignored Natsume's presence.
Slap!
Before Mine could react, Aoi reached out and snatched the ball.
What?
Mine was still processing Aoi's sudden reappearance when the ball was already gone.
The teammate who was supposed to help now ended up blocking his view.
Who'd believe that?
It all happened so fast that Mine couldn't react at all.
Whoosh—
A gust of wind brushed past Mine's face. Only when the sound of a bouncing ball echoed behind him did he snap out of it.
"Too fast… I couldn't react at all." He turned his head stiffly, eyes wide in disbelief and shock.
Aoi Kunisaku had turned into a streak of red, slicing through toward Tsukubu's basket.
Godai Tomokazu saw it and turned to chase. He was the only one who might catch up in time.
But that was wishful thinking.
He did catch up for a second—only for Aoi to suddenly cut right, then slam the brakes.
Right after, he switched hands and faked a left drive.
Aoi's movements were too fast. Godai couldn't even track them clearly.
When Aoi suddenly shifted direction, Godai instinctively thought the drive had changed and moved to block that way.
But even though Aoi had moved the ball to his left, his actual path was still on the right.
Everything happened so fast and smooth, it didn't feel real.
Godai never expected Aoi to pull off a fake like that in such a moment. It made no sense.
In the end, he could only watch as Aoi broke through from his left.
"Stop right there!" Nango Koichiro shouted, rushing in from behind.
Aoi didn't even look at him. He drove straight into the paint with the ball.
Sensing Nango getting close, Aoi didn't slow down. He reached the side of the key and leapt up.
"You're not scoring!" Nango shouted and jumped after him.
He spread his arms wide like an octopus, trying to block as much of Aoi's shot path as possible.
But midair, he was stunned.
He realized the distance between himself and Aoi was widening.
Eyes wide, he muttered in confusion, "What's going on? Why's he jumping the other way?"
Seeing Aoi fly away from the hoop, Nango was stunned at first, then grinned.
He figured his defense had forced Aoi into retreat.
Aoi must have been desperate and jumped away as a last resort.
The other players and even the crowd thought the same.
Right then, Aoi and Nango were clearly separated in the air.
Though Nango had blocked half the shooting angle, the other half was still open.
Aoi twisted in midair, turning to face the hoop.
The next second, right in front of the still-smug Nango, he lifted the ball with one hand and casually tossed it toward Tsukubu's basket.
It was like crumpling a piece of paper and tossing it into a trash can. Effortless.
Clank…
Swish…
Before anyone could process what happened, the ball hit the backboard and dropped through the net.
Basket in.
Shohoku 6–8 Tsukubu.