The next day, at 1 PM, in the Hiroshima gymnasium, sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting long streaks of light on the floor.
In Meihou Industrial's warm-up area, Morishige Hiroshi was jumping in place, single-handedly palming a basketball. His 199-centimeter height caused a soft thud as his fingertips grazed the rim, and the backboard swayed along—this guy even warmed up with a crushing brute force, immediately drawing a flurry of camera shutters from the sidelines.
Beside him, power forward Iwata Kazuya was practicing a back-to-the-basket hook shot. His sturdy 193-centimeter frame, standing under the basket, occupied a good portion of the area.
Small forward Nakagawa Hiroki was shooting from beyond the three-point line. His 188-centimeter frame wasn't particularly eye-catching, but with a flick of his wrist, he sank three consecutive shots.
Shooting guard Kudo Takuya (185 cm) moved his feet quickly while dribbling around cones.
Point guard Kinoshita Shota (178 cm) threw the ball high and accurately, feeding Morishige Hiroshi for an alley-oop.
Gu Jin sat in the middle of the stands, twirling a bottle of mineral water, his gaze fixed on Koikawa High School's warm-up area opposite: center Itakura Yuta, 195 centimeters, displayed agile footwork during his warm-up.
Power forward Nomura Masato, 189 centimeters, was bending down to tie his shoelaces.
Small forward Watanabe Kenji, 186 centimeters, casually dribbled the ball, his eyes subtly surveying Meihou's defense.
Shooting guard Takagi Yuta, 182 centimeters, was wiping sweat with a tissue, his wrist still smudged with anti-slip powder from practicing three-pointers.
Point guard Kawaguchi Shota, 177 centimeters, the shortest of them all, was talking to his teammates with his chin raised, his eyes shining brightly.
Even Aida Hikoichi's notebook only contained the entry: “Koikawa: Prefectural Tournament dark horse, tactics unknown.”
“It's him,” Sen Do suddenly murmured beside him, lightly pointing a finger at Koikawa's small forward position, “Watanabe Kenji.”
Gu Jin looked up—Watanabe Kenji had just received a pass from Kawaguchi Shota, faked out a teammate's simulated defense with a crossover step, and then, with a light flick of his wrist during the layup, the ball grazed the inside of the rim and dropped into the net, his movement clean and without any wasted effort.
“You know him?” Gu Jin asked.
“An opponent from junior high,” Sen Do tapped his fingertips on his knee, his gaze still fixed on Watanabe Kenji. “We met during the regional tournament back then, and I lost quite badly.”
Gu Jin was momentarily stunned—Sen Do rarely mentioned his losses.
“Before I met you, I only truly lost twice,” Sen Do suddenly chuckled. “Once was on a street court, against Zawa Kita Eiji from Sannoh; I had no words for that loss.”
He paused, his gaze falling on Watanabe Kenji's back as he turned to receive the ball, his tone deepening slightly: “The other time was losing to Watanabe. Back then, he wasn't as steady as he is now; he'd charge into a crowd purely on impulse, but that change of direction during a breakthrough, and his finishing touch under the basket... it's the same style as now, very annoying.”
Gu Jin looked at Watanabe Kenji again—he hadn't paid much attention before, but now he noticed that his left shoulder always habitually dipped when he dribbled, as if hiding a move. The angle of his wrist's force during a layup was very tricky, the ball always grazing the defender's fingertips, matching Sen Do's description of “annoying.”
When the whistle blew, Morishige Hiroshi almost jumped for the tip-off, practically pressing against Itakura Yuta.
He slapped the basketball into Sato Takuya's hands, who immediately shot it, a three-pointer swishing through the net—just ten seconds into the game, 3:0.
The Meihou fans in the stands immediately erupted. Morishige Hiroshi shook his arms, his eyes devoid of emotion, as if he had just done something perfectly normal.
But Koikawa didn't panic.
When Kawaguchi Shota dribbled past half-court, he suddenly made a behind-the-back pass to Watanabe Kenji on the wing. Itakura Yuta, using Nomura Masato's screen, cut inside. Watanabe Kenji flicked his wrist, and the ball was precisely delivered to Itakura Yuta's hands. As he caught the ball, he gently flicked his wrist, and the basketball grazed Morishige Hiroshi's fingertips before dropping into the basket—2:3.
The mineral water bottle in Gu Jin's hand paused.
Watanabe Kenji's pass just now was extremely well-hidden, only released at the last second of Itakura Yuta's cut, and Kinoshita Shota had no time to react.
Meihou Industrial inbounded the ball. Kinoshita Shota dribbled past half-court, watching as Morishige Hiroshi established a position under the basket—Itakura Yuta was being pushed back by his back, and Nomura Masato, just about to come around from the side to help defend, was solidly screened by Meihou's power forward, Iwata Kazuya.
Kinoshita Shota flicked his wrist, and the basketball flew straight over, landing perfectly in Morishige Hiroshi's hands.
Morishige Hiroshi gripped the ball and lowered his shoulder. Itakura Yuta gritted his teeth and pushed up to defend, his arms trembling.
But then he suddenly pushed off with both feet, rising like a small mountain, lifting the ball with both hands towards the rim—Nomura Masato, at this moment, broke free from Iwata Kazuya's screen and lunged forward to block, but Morishige Hiroshi jumped too high. His fingertips barely grazed Morishige Hiroshi's arm before he was pulled sideways by a force.
“Bang!”
The basketball was slammed into the rim, and the backboard swayed with it.
Nomura Masato was hit in the chest by Morishige Hiroshi's body, stumbling and falling to the ground.
Itakura Yuta, standing too close, also grunted and sat down on the ground.
Morishige Hiroshi hung on the rim without coming down, still gripping the hoop and swaying. He looked down at the two lying on the ground, his lips curled, his eyes showing a hint of disdain.
“Beep—!”
The referee's whistle suddenly blew. He walked up to Morishige Hiroshi and made the offensive foul gesture: “Meihou number 15, hanging on the rim delaying the game, plus a malicious foul warning!”
Morishige Hiroshi finally let go and landed, frowning and glaring at the referee: “I didn't foul!”
Meihou's coach on the sidelines was frantically jumping up and down, shouting at the referee: “A-Kuan, don't argue with the referee! Next time, dunk normally! Remember to come down quickly!”
The referee ignored Morishige Hiroshi and signaled Koikawa to inbound the ball from the sideline.
Kawaguchi Shota picked up the ball and, as he walked to the sideline, looked back at Morishige Hiroshi.
He quietly nudged Watanabe Kenji beside him and whispered, “This fatty is getting emotional; we might be able to get him out of the game.”
Watanabe Kenji didn't say anything, only his eyes darkened as he glanced at Morishige Hiroshi.
Kawaguchi Shota stood at the sideline to inbound, his fingertips gripping the basketball as he scanned the court—Morishige Hiroshi was still under the basket, breathing heavily, his eyebrows furrowed like a tangled mess, his eyes fixed on the floor, clearly still fuming about the recent foul.
“Go!” Kawaguchi Shota yelled softly, flicking his wrist and throwing the ball to Watanabe Kenji.
When Watanabe Kenji received the ball, he didn't retreat beyond the three-point line; instead, he stepped half a pace forward, directly facing Nakagawa Hiroki's defense.
Just as Nakagawa Hiroki was about to close in, he saw Watanabe Kenji suddenly execute a front-body crossover. His left shoulder dipped even lower, and he charged into the restricted area like a beast preparing to strike—he actually didn't look for a teammate's screen, heading straight for Morishige Hiroshi.
In the stands, Gu Jin suddenly sat up straighter.
Sen Do also shed his casual demeanor, his fingertips resting on his knee: “He dares to go directly at Morishige Hiroshi?”
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