Ryonan's possession.
Thump… thump… thump…
Ake dribbled slowly, each bounce steady and controlled as he advanced into Shohoku's half.
The sound of the ball echoing through the arena felt sharper than before, as if every bounce struck directly at the nerves of the Shohoku players.
As Ake approached, with the rest of Ryonan reorganizing behind him, the pressure the Shohoku players felt came rushing back— heavier, sharper, more suffocating than before.
Their eyes followed Ake, almost unconsciously, and the same thought formed in all their minds:
'This guy is terrifying.'
"He changed his team's entire mentality with just a few sentences."
Akagi clenched his fists, staring at Ake, not noticing the faint tremor in his own chest.
Miyagi Ryota was the first to step up.
He planted his feet and blocked Ake's path, but even standing in front of him made Miyagi's throat tighten.
This was the first opponent who made him feel—instinctively, deeply—that provoking him was a mistake. Just being face-to-face with Ake was enough to feel overwhelmed by the aura he carried.
'What a terrifying guy,' Miyagi thought.
Ake advanced without slowing.
Just as Miyagi was about to swipe at the ball—
Ake flicked his wrist, sending the ball through a tight gap to Koshino, who was sprinting up beside him.
Koshino caught it on the move and headed straight toward the three-point line.
He lifted the ball to shoot— but immediately saw Mitsui Hisashi charging at him like a bullet.
Mitsui leaped, arm stretched to its limit, completely shutting down the angle.
Koshino didn't force it.
He snapped his wrist downward, and the ball zipped along the floor, sliding perfectly into the hands of Fukuda, who had cut behind Mitsui.
Fukuda took two explosive strides into the paint.
He jumped— flick— and the ball dropped cleanly through the hoop.
Mitsui landed with a grunt, wiping the sweat dripping down his cheek, frustration all over his face.
"Their movements… they're fluid again," he muttered, his brows tight. "No more hesitation."
In Shohoku possession, Miyagi dribbled slowly, deliberately, keeping the pace under control.
"Don't rush. Let's get a basket first," he shouted, raising a finger.
Shohoku, tense just moments ago, loosened slightly at the sound of his voice.
Miyagi scanned the court.
His eyes inevitably stopped on Ake.
Ake stood calmly, just inside Ryonan's half-court line, hands relaxed at his sides, watching Miyagi with quiet focus.
His stillness made Miyagi even more anxious.
Miyagi exhaled sharply.
He pushed down his unease and stepped forward.
As he neared Ake, he suddenly increased his dribbling rhythm.
The ball bounced faster, his body lowering, hinting at a drive to the left.
Ake reacted—just as Miyagi intended—by shifting half a step left and raising his arm to block.
Exactly what Miyagi wanted.
He only needed Ake's attention for one second.
As he closed the distance, Miyagi switched the ball to his left hand in a smooth motion.
It looked like he was preparing a crossover, but his real target wasn't Ake— it was Mitsui, who was cutting into an open spot.
'Now.'
Miyagi flicked the ball diagonally backward, sending it toward Mitsui—
Just as the ball left his fingers—
Ake's eyes narrowed.
A faint glint appeared.
Two thin golden rings formed in his heterochromatic eyes, as if light flowed between them.
Not bright— but piercing.
The Emperor Eye had activated.
Ake moved instantly.
His left-side guard position shifted in a flash to the right.
His arm extended like a whip.
His fingertips struck the ball—
Snap.
The ball popped free.
Miyagi froze.
He had disguised everything—his body angle, his momentum, his fake left-side threat.
Yet Ake reacted with zero hesitation, as though he had been waiting for this exact moment.
Ake secured the ball, spun around Miyagi, and sprinted toward Shohoku's basket.
Miyagi could only stand there, stunned.
What kind of eyes see through everything like that?
By the time anyone moved, Ake was already under the basket.
A smooth three-step.
Layup.
Swish.
After landing, he turned calmly toward the Shohoku players.
"Your game ends here."
Shohoku froze.
Ake continued, voice flat. "Your strength ends here. You won't progress any further today."
His eyes shifted to Miyagi.
"That pass wasn't an accident. It was inevitable. You wouldn't pass inside—too risky. Sakuragi can't shoot, so you had two targets: Rukawa or Mitsui. Rukawa was locked down by Sendoh. So Mitsui was your only choice. All I had to do was follow your rhythm. The moment you prepared to pass, the ball was already mine."
"What nonsense!" Miyagi's voice trembled with anger. "Your balance was completely off! Even if you guessed, you couldn't have reacted that fast!"
Up in the stands—
Maki's eyes widened.
"Don't tell me…" he whispered.
Kiyota jumped. "H-hey, Captain Maki, what is it!?"
Maki didn't answer immediately.
His heart thudded.
'Was Ake deliberately suppressing his rhythm the whole time? Just waiting for this exact moment…?'
If so, then Ake wasn't just strong— he was monstrous.
A player who could control the game tempo under pressure, predict outcomes, and strike only when the opponent revealed the tiniest weakness—
Terrifying.
Mitsui swallowed hard, staring at Ake as if seeing a phantom.
"Was… was this your plan from the beginning?"
Next to him, even Akagi felt his scalp tighten.
"So Sakuragi was just bait… to mislead us…"
Only now did it all click.
What looked like scattered, chaotic targeting earlier had actually been precise calculation.
Ake kept walking toward his side of the court when he spoke again:
"I never relied on fouling Sakuragi out. That's an unstable factor.
All I needed was to keep him away from the rim so he couldn't help under the basket.
As for Rukawa— he's talented, but he can't beat Sendoh yet.
In that situation, your only option to catch up was on the outside."
His gaze landed on Mitsui.
"And your outside shooting… was already at its limit."
Mitsui stood hunched over, hands on his knees, drenched in sweat, panting as though every breath cost him strength.
Even if he had received that pass, he probably wouldn't have made the shot.
His stamina had long since hit the red zone.
That pass Miyagi attempted was less a strategy— and more Shohoku's last scraps of hope.
On the bench—
Kogure stared blankly.
"So… we were already trapped from the start…?"
Ayako looked devastated, disbelief and a quiet despair flooding her eyes.
"How… how could it turn out like this…?"
Coach Anzai let out a long sigh, removing his glasses to wipe them slowly.
When he put them back on, he gazed at the red-haired figure who had dictated every moment of the match.
"…To be outplayed this completely… without even a chance to fight back."