Aiwa Academy hadn't even caught its breath when Kazunari Fukatsu successfully stole the ball.
Before Fukumori Suzuki of Aiwa could react, he flicked his wrist and tossed the ball to Zawa Kita beyond the three-point line.
This time, Zawa Kita didn't even wait for Morohoshi Dai to fully set his stance; the moment he received the ball, he moved—not to drive, but to directly jump for a pull-up shot.
Morohoshi Dai's reaction wasn't slow; he almost jumped simultaneously to block, but Zawa Kita's jumping height was simply too exaggerated, and his body stretched in the air like a feather.
By the time Morohoshi Dai's fingertips were about to touch the ball, Zawa Kita's wrist had already flicked lightly, and the basketball sailed over Morohoshi Dai's fingertips, swishing through the net.
12:4.
The Ryonan Team members in the stands all let out a low "wow," and Fukuda Kiccho's mouth hung open for a long time: "This... he jumped too high, didn't he?"
Taoka Moichi didn't respond, only frowning more deeply—that last shot, Zawa Kita's use of his core strength wasn't even obvious; it was as if he just raised his hand and shot, and that was what was most terrifying.
After Aiwa inbounded the ball, Fukumori Suzuki was clearly flustered; he didn't control the force well while dribbling, and Kazunari Fukatsu seized the opportunity, reaching out and snatching the ball directly from his hands!
Another steal!
Fukatsu didn't hesitate after picking up the ball, sending a long pass towards the basket—Zawa Kita had already sprinted past half-court at some point, and didn't even need to slow down when he received the ball, taking off with a single foot and slamming the ball into the hoop over the defending Toyotomi Takayuki!
"Bang!" The hoop let out a dull thud, shaking the scoreboard on the sideline.
14:4.
Zawa Kita landed, holding onto the hoop with one hand and shaking it before letting go and dropping to the floor.
He didn't look at the Aiwa Team members' expressions, only turned his head and raised his chin towards the Sannoh bench, seemingly having a great time.
However, Coach Domoto still maintained his unperturbed demeanor, only nodding slightly.
Aiwa's coach finally couldn't hold back, shouting tactics from the sideline, but the players seemed stunned by that last dunk, their footwork disorganized during their runs.
Morohoshi Dai gritted his teeth and received the ball outside the three-point line.
This time, he didn't dare to force a drive past Zawa Kita, instead trying to pass the ball to Jun Norisachi, but Jun Norisachi was tightly guarded by Sannoh's substitute forward, Minoru Matsumoto, with no chance to receive the ball.
Just as Morohoshi Dai hesitated, Zawa Kita suddenly closed in, extending an arm and stealing the basketball!
Another fast break!
Zawa Kita dribbled at the very front, and no one on the Aiwa Team could match his speed, only watching helplessly as he reached the basket and executed another nimble layup—this time, he didn't even use much force, as if afraid of damaging the hoop again.
16:4.
Morohoshi Dai stood rooted to the spot, watching Zawa Kita score effortlessly again and again.
His chest rose and fell more rapidly, and sweat trickled down his face from his forehead, dripping onto the floor and spreading into a small wet patch.
He had wanted to chase Zawa Kita just now, but his legs felt like they were filled with lead, unable to take a step—it wasn't fatigue, it was panic.
For the first time, he felt that the person in front of him was not a "human"; those movements were too fast, defying the normal rules of basketball.
Sannoh hadn't even fielded its full starting lineup, yet it had pushed Aiwa to this extent.
At this moment, Aiwa's offense was completely in disarray.
Fukumori Suzuki frequently made mistakes while dribbling, Nakata Sakuyoshi couldn't receive the ball under the basket, and even the most accurate Jun Norisachi shot off-target from three-point range—Sannoh's defense was like an impenetrable net, and Zawa Kita was the sharpest blade in the center of the net, not only scoring himself but always appearing in the most crucial position at the moment Aiwa passed the ball.
Another possession, Morohoshi Dai finally managed to drive to the basket, but when he attempted a layup, he was lightly pushed from behind by Zawa Kita—not a foul, just an interference with his balance.
The shot missed, and Kawata grabbed the rebound.
After taking the ball, Zawa Kita raised an eyebrow at Morohoshi Dai, the arrogance in his eyes even more pronounced than before, as if saying, "Is that all you've got?"
Morohoshi Dai clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles turning white.
But he knew Zawa Kita wasn't wrong.
In those last few possessions, Zawa Kita hadn't even exerted much effort, yet he had utterly defeated Aiwa.
Taoka Moichi in the stands sighed: "They've collapsed."
Uozumi Jun nodded: "The Aiwa Team members don't dare to move anymore..."
"It's not that they don't dare to move, it's that they've been dumbfounded," Taoka's gaze fell on Zawa Kita, who, with Kawata's screen, just sank another three-pointer.
The numbers on the scoreboard had already changed to 22:4, and the lead was still growing.
"That kid Zawa Kita, once he gets serious, no one can withstand him.
Morohoshi Dai is already pushing his limits, but what can he do against such a 'non-human'?"
Zawa Kita on the court seemed to have had enough fun, suddenly running towards Fukatsu and whispering something.
Fukatsu nodded, and in the subsequent offense, Sannoh began to play as a team—Fukatsu passed to Kawata, Kawata then dished to Mikio Kawata, and Mikio Kawata dunked for a score.
24:4.
Zawa Kita stood outside the three-point line, watching his teammates score, and a slight smile played on his lips.
He knew this game had already ended.
The so-called "second-best high school player in Japan," in his eyes, was merely an opponent who could last a few more possessions.
Aiwa's coach watched the scoreboard in despair from the sidelines, finally raising his hand to call a timeout.
Morohoshi Dai walked off the court with his head down; no one could see his expression, only that his shoulders were trembling slightly—from exhaustion, but more so from being utterly defeated.
Sawakita Eiji, after today, that name would likely become a nightmare for everyone at Aiwa Academy.
When the timeout whistle blew, the Aiwa Academy players walked off the court with their heads down, their steps dragging as if their feet were filled with lead.
Coach Sato stood on the sideline, clutching his clipboard, his face looking even worse than the numbers on the scoreboard—24:4, and only a little over five minutes had passed, yet the deficit was already approaching twenty points.
In the Ryonan Team stands, Koshino Hiroaki couldn't help but mutter: "They should have called a timeout earlier, why wait until they're beaten like this?"
Taoka Moichi snorted, his gaze sweeping over the Aiwa coach's strained face: "It's not that he didn't want to call it; he couldn't call it earlier."
"Couldn't?" Tomoyuki Uekusa didn't understand.
"He was waiting for Morohoshi Dai to break the deadlock, but it was a pity," Taoka tapped his finger on the railing of the stands, "Aiwa has been able to dominate Aichi Prefecture these past few years precisely because of Morohoshi Dai's 'ability to break the deadlock'.
In previous years, no matter how far behind they were, as long as Morohoshi Dai was on the court, he could always tear through the defense with his solo play, either scoring himself or forcing the opponent to foul—Coach Sato had long been accustomed to 'waiting for Morohoshi Dai to find his rhythm'."
He paused, his gaze falling on Morohoshi Dai, who was bending over to drink water off the court.
The boy's nape was covered in sweat, and even the fingers gripping the water bottle were trembling slightly: "When the deficit first reached ten points, Sato must have still been waiting—waiting for Morohoshi Dai to suddenly explode like before, catching up with a three-pointer and a fast break.
He was afraid that calling a timeout would disrupt Morohoshi Dai's rhythm; after all, Aiwa's tactics revolved around Morohoshi Dai, and a rash adjustment might lead to even more chaos."
"But who would have thought..." Uozumi Jun interjected softly.
"Who would have thought Zawa Kita simply doesn't play by the rules," Taoka continued, a hint of melancholy in his tone, "Before, when Morohoshi Dai played solo, opponents either intensely guarded him alone, leaving teammates open; or they sent help defense, giving him a path to drive.
But Sannoh? Fukatsu controls the tempo without panic, Kawata's help defense under the basket is rock solid, and Zawa Kita sticks like a plaster—if you, Morohoshi Dai, drive, he follows you to defend; if you try to pass, your teammates are already tightly guarded by Sannoh's players."
On the court, Coach Sato was gripping Morohoshi Dai's arm and talking, his lips moving rapidly, his hand still drawing something on the clipboard.
But Morohoshi Dai only nodded with his head down, that usual sharpness in his eyes long gone—Zawa Kita's chase-down block just now didn't just block the ball; it seemed to have also blocked his confidence.
"And this collapse came too quickly," Sendoh Akira suddenly spoke, his gaze on the scoreboard, "From 10:4 to 24:4, in less than 3 minutes.
Coach Sato probably hadn't even reacted—one second he still thought 'Morohoshi Dai can hold on,' the next second the deficit was heading towards twenty points, and it was too late to call a timeout."
As soon as he finished speaking, the timeout ended.
When the Aiwa Team members re-entered the court, their steps were still heavy.
Morohoshi Dai stood outside the three-point line, not actively asking for the ball as he had before; instead, Fukumori Suzuki hesitantly passed the ball to Jun Norisachi.
Jun Norisachi raised his hand to shoot a three-pointer, but Sannoh's substitute forward interfered with a raised hand—the ball went wildly off target, flying directly out of bounds.
Coach Sato in the stands suddenly stomped his foot, his face ashen.
Taoka Moichi shook his head: "It's too late.
The rhythm is already completely broken; what's the use of calling a timeout now?
Morohoshi Dai's spirit has been deflated, and his teammates' souls have been scared away—if Sannoh wanted to, it would be easy to extend the lead to thirty points."
Sure enough, in the next possession, Zawa Kita sank another three-pointer in front of Morohoshi Dai.
27:4.
As Zawa Kita landed, he glanced at the Aiwa bench.
Coach Sato was turning his back to wipe his face, whether it was sweat or something else, no one knew.
