The stadium fell silent, as if the very air had been sucked out.
All eyes fixed on the court. Shouts, cheers, even breaths seemed to vanish in that instant.
Rukawa Kaede was still charging forward. His right foot had just crossed mid-court, his arm swinging naturally—but his palm was empty.
He had lost the ball.
Under the stunned gaze of everyone, Akashi hadn't lunged or made any grand gesture. He had simply shifted slightly, extended his right hand with deadly precision, and flicked his fingertips.
Clap.
The ball was gone. Effortlessly stripped from Rukawa's hands.
Rukawa froze, his body rigid. Astonishment, pure and undisguised, appeared on his usually cold face. He lowered his head slowly, staring at his empty palm, as if questioning whether the basketball had ever existed.
"Kogure…" Kiminobu's voice broke from the backcourt, dry and tense.
Takenori Akagi, watching from the paint, trembled. "He… he stripped the ball… just like that?"
Uozumi sneered, whispering to Akagi, "I'll give you some advice."
Akagi's frown deepened. Uozumi rarely spoke lightly.
"From the moment our captain stepped on the court," Uozumi continued, "you didn't stand a chance. Enjoy this game while it lasts… I hope you don't feel despair after it's over."
Akagi's jaw tightened. He didn't yet understand fully, but the warning carried weight.
Swoosh. Clap.
Akashi flicked the ball forward, and it shot like an arrow into Ryoji Ikegami's hands. Ikegami sprinted into Shohoku's half, nearing the basket.
A wall rose—Takenori Akagi, blocking the path, eyes sharp as knives.
Ikegami passed the ball back. It returned to Akashi.
Takenori surged forward, roaring, attempting to challenge the first-year prodigy.
Akashi's dribble remained steady, thump… thump… thump… the ball's rhythm perfectly controlled, tightening the stadium's air with each beat.
Finally, the captains faced each other: Takenori Akagi versus Akashi.
"For you," Akashi's calm voice rang out, "passing is already enough."
He dribbled, changed hands, and then—the ball vanished. Front, back, left, right—nowhere to be seen. Yet Akashi didn't flinch.
Then, behind him, Koshino Hiroaki rose, ball in hand, shooting perfectly over Akagi's head.
Swish.
Silence.
Shohoku's players froze. Even Takenori Akagi leaned on his knees, gasping, unable to recover his rhythm. Rukawa's gaze never left Akashi, trying to anticipate the next move. Sakuragi's mouth opened—but no sound came out.
Every possession became a nightmare. Every pass, a precision strike. The ball moved from impossible angles, through invisible gaps, landing before defenders could react—or even notice.
Behind-the-back bounce passes. Alley-oops. Pump fakes that tricked even Takenori. Each pass screamed: Shohoku is already losing.
Shohoku tried everything: double-teams, switching, pressing. Akashi found every gap, every seam. Calm, precise, untouchable.
The scoreboard told the story: 80–52… 90–56. Only three minutes left.
Shohoku's players dragged their feet, gasping, exhausted, beaten. Even Sakuragi, once tireless, hunched over, pale, chest heaving.
Ayako, courtside, barely breathed. The shadow of defeat clung to everyone.
Suddenly, a roar shattered the silence.
"Pull yourselves together!" Takenori Akagi's voice thundered. Eyes blazing, body tense, he demanded their attention.
"Yes!" Shohoku's players responded in unison. Clumsy, ragged, but unbroken.
Akashi observed, a faint smile on his lips. "Quite unexpected… but it should be this way."
The next pass: intercepted. Again. Clap.
Rukawa charged, furious, intent on reclaiming the ball. Akashi's in-and-out dribble made it slip past effortlessly.
Sakuragi lunged from behind. Time seemed to freeze. Fingers reached the ball…
Two defenders—Rukawa and Sakuragi—stumbled forward, caught in Akashi's perfect feint. Thud… thud… they hit the floor like statues kneeling before a king.
Akashi walked through the gap, dribbling calmly, unruffled, the ball bouncing like a heartbeat.
One step from Shohoku's free-throw line, he paused and shot.
The ball arced like a leaf, tracing a gentle, perfect path.
Swish.
The stadium remained in stunned silence.