Riki brought the ball up, his dribble slower now, more deliberate. He ignored the set play, instead locking eyes with Teo. A simple nod. Bornok lumbered up, setting a solid screen on Akashi. It was enough.
Riki turned the corner and saw Murasakibara waiting in the paint, a mountain of disinterest. But Riki didn't drive. He fired a bounce pass to Teo, who had sealed his man deep in the post.
For a moment, it was just Teo and the basket. He took one powerful dribble, felt Murasakibara's weight against his back, and went up with his signature hook shot. Murasakibara's hand, swift and massive, rose to meet it.
But Teo had anticipated it. He adjusted mid-air, releasing the ball with a higher, softer arc. It floated over the giant's fingertips, kissed the glass, and dropped through the net.
The sound of the swish was the most beautiful thing they had heard since arriving.
15-4.
It was only two points. But on the scoreboard, it was a declaration. They had scored. Against the machine, they had found a crack.
As Teikō prepared to inbound, Renz clenched his fist. "Okay," he breathed. "Now we play."