The first quarter ended with Teikō leading 28-10. The gap was massive, but the shock had worn off, replaced by a grim determination.
In the huddle, Drei pointed at the court. "They're perfect in their system. But they don't improvise. Watch Akashi—he directs everything. If we disrupt his timing, we disrupt them all."
The second quarter began. Flowstate stopped trying to match Teikō's brilliance and started playing their own gritty, physical game. Bornok's screens became louder, harder. Renz fought through every cut, his pride stung.
On defense, they switched everything, creating momentary confusion. Akashi's passes were still precise, but now they were met with a hand in the face, a body bumping the cutter off their line.
The points came slowly. A tough fadeaway from Renz. A put-back from Bornok after a relentless offensive board. A patient, late-clock three from Drei.
Halftime: Teikō 35, Flowstate 28.
They walked to the locker room not as a defeated team, but as one that had found its footing. The machine was still ahead, but it was no longer silent. They could hear its gears, and they were learning how to make it grind.