"A-Kuan, if you can't avoid fouling in the second half, then this year's National Tournament is already over for us Meihou." The Meihou coach's voice was as heavy as an unannounced rain, falling onto the locker room floor and onto Morishige Hiroshi's slumped shoulders.
Morishige Hiroshi's hand, gripping the towel, tightened, his knuckles white: "I'm sorry, Coach, it's all my fault." That unnecessary chase-down foul still burned in his heart when he thought about it.
"Silly boy." The coach suddenly softened his tone, reaching out to pat his broad back, "How can I blame you? You're only a first-year, and the you now isn't the strongest you." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the Koikawa High School players bending down to pick up the ball on the court, a hint of regret in his voice, "Besides, you've already carried everything you can on your shoulders. If the team had a small forward who could drive and break through to play with you, or reliable shooters on the perimeter to create space, the outcome would be vastly different."
Morishige Hiroshi's Adam's apple bobbed. Just as he was about to say, "I can still play," he heard the coach continue: "I've already spoken to the school; we'll start recruiting next year. Making it this far this year has finally made them see your potential."
The four words "recruit next year" hit Morishige Hiroshi's heart like a small stone, "thump."
He suddenly looked up at the coach, who was looking down, wiping sweat from the tactical board. His profile appeared somewhat blurred under the court lights.
Could it be... the coach also thinks we can't beat Rikawa in this game?
"Damn it!" He clenched his fist abruptly, his fingernails digging into his palm—why wait until next year? Why rely on "the future"? As long as he could still stand on the court, Meihou hadn't lost!
After the halftime break, Morishige Hiroshi re-entered the game in the 4th minute of the second half.
He no longer charged head-first into the paint like he did in the first half. Itakura Yuta had just raised his arm to box out when Morishige Hiroshi suddenly turned sideways. As his left shoulder brushed past his opponent's elbow, his right hand hooked behind him—he had smoothly caught the lob pass from Kinoshita Shota.
"Bang!"
He didn't jump. Standing half a step outside the restricted area, he twisted his waist and slammed the ball against the backboard.
The basketball hit the backboard with a "humming" sound. As it rebounded, it landed perfectly in the hands of Iwata Kazuya, who had rushed up. Iwata Kazuya took advantage of the momentum, tiptoed, and threw a floater. The ball grazed the inside of the rim and dropped into the net.
68:65.
Just as two cheers erupted from the Meihou bench, Morishige Hiroshi had already turned and run back.
He suddenly remembered the coach's words about "recruiting next year," and his steps quickened by half a beat—even if they had to wait until next year, they had to fight for the score in this game until the last second.
It was Koikawa High School's possession. Kawaguchi Shota deliberately slowed down as he dribbled past half-court.
Watanabe Kenji faked on the wing, then suddenly cut to the baseline. Nomura Masato followed, squeezing towards the middle. At the moment their two figures overlapped, Kawaguchi Shota flicked his wrist, and the ball rolled along the floor towards the paint.
Itakura Yuta was being pushed back by Morishige Hiroshi's back. As his foot stepped into the three-second area, he suddenly stopped—the ball rolled right to his feet.
As he bent down to pick up the ball, Morishige Hiroshi suddenly turned, his elbow instinctively pushing back half an inch, trying to block his opponent's jumping path.
"Beep—!"
When the referee's whistle pierced like an icicle, Morishige Hiroshi was still in the elbowing posture.
Itakura Yuta took two steps back, clutching his side, his brow furrowed white. The referee squatted down to look at his jersey, then stood up and showed Morishige Hiroshi his palm—five fingers spread, it was his fifth foul.
"Player number 15, five fouls, ejected!"
Morishige Hiroshi froze in place.
Someone in the stands shouted, "Meihou is finished!" He suddenly turned his head to look in that direction but couldn't see who was shouting. He only saw the lights falling on the floor, casting his lonely shadow, which was half a segment shorter than when he first entered the game.
"A-Kuan!" The coach called him from the sidelines, his voice no longer heavy, but rather a little relaxed, "Come and rest!"
Morishige Hiroshi didn't move.
It wasn't until Kinoshita Shota ran over and pulled his arm that he followed him off the court.
Without Morishige Hiroshi, Meihou's paint was like a wall that had suddenly collapsed.
Koikawa High School's Takagi Yuta shot two consecutive baskets from beyond the three-point line. As the balls swished through the net, the cheers of Koikawa High School fans surged like a wave from the stands.
Iwata Kazuya gritted his teeth and charged towards the basket, but he was tightly entangled by Nomura Masato. Kudo Takuya's three-pointer bounced off the rim, rebounding with a louder sound than Morishige Hiroshi's dunk earlier.
Until... the last ten seconds, Meihou was still trailing by 8 points.
Kinoshita Shota, holding the ball, rushed towards the three-point line. As Watanabe Kenji caught up, he suddenly made a behind-the-back pass—but the pass wasn't steady. It grazed Nakagawa Hiroki's fingertips and flew out of bounds.
When the final whistle blew, Morishige Hiroshi was still standing by the bench, the towel clutched in his hand.
The coach walked over and patted his shoulder. He looked up and saw the Koikawa High School players jumping in a hug. Watanabe Kenji had his neck hooked by Kawaguchi Shota, and the curve of his smile was exactly the same as when he received the ground pass earlier.
"Next year." Morishige Hiroshi suddenly spoke, his voice a little hoarse, "Next year, I'm going to beat them back."
The coach smiled but said nothing, simply pushing the tactical board he held into his arms.
The board still had the cooperation routes drawn for the first half, and Morishige Hiroshi's number was circled in the center of the restricted area, outlined extra darkly in red pen.
88:80, Koikawa High School wins!
Takato Riki had just walked down the last few steps of the stands when he saw the Hainan team members waiting for him at the Channel entrance .
Maki Shinichi stood at the front with his hands behind his back; Kiyota Nobunaga peered over his teammate's shoulders, his eyes bright like a child who had just watched an exciting show.
"Coach!" Kiyota Nobunaga shouted first, "Meihou actually lost! That Rikawa small forward is really good, daring to charge directly at Morishige Hiroshi—"
"What's all the noise about?" Takato Riki tightened his suit jacket around his arm, his gaze sweeping over the players, "After watching, you should be thinking, not just staring at the excitement." He paused, stopping in front of Maki Shinichi, his voice a little deeper: "Let's go too. Our next game is against Rikawa, we need to plan our tactics in advance."
Maki Shinichi nodded, tapping his fingertips lightly on his palm: "Rikawa's pick-and-roll is very fluid. Those back passes Kawaguchi Shota made to Watanabe Kenji just now were perfectly timed."
"Not just that." Takato Riki walked out of the passage, and the players quickly followed, "Itakura Yuta looks thin, but his elbows are tough when boxing out under the basket. He went head-to-head with Morishige Hiroshi for half the game without completely losing ground. And their power forward Nomura, his screens are solid; Meihou's Iwata couldn't get around him several times."
Kiyota Nobunaga scratched his head: "Then... we just need to focus on defending Watanabe Kenji?"
"Stupid." Takato Riki glared back at him, "Rikawa plays as a team. If you shut down Watanabe, Kawaguchi can drive, and Takagi can shoot. Go back and cut out the game footage from earlier, each person focus on one point, and we'll have an extra two hours of practice at the gym tomorrow to break down their tactics."
The players responded and followed him out of the gymnasium.
The sunlight fell on the ground, stretching the shadows of the group long. Maki Shinichi lagged half a step behind, and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Takato Riki's hand gripping his jacket tightening—he knew that although the coach hadn't said it, he had already considered Rikawa a very formidable opponent in his heart.