As Ryonan's offense began, Sakuragi wiped his palms on the hem of his jersey—sweat had wrinkled the fabric, much like his chaotic thoughts at the moment.
Sendo was faking a dribble outside the three-point line; he was supposed to cut towards the free-throw line according to the strategy, but as soon as he moved, he saw Hei Huang's 'wall of flesh' blocking his path and instantly forgot where his next move should be.
“Sakuragi! The baseline is open!” Taoka Moichi yelled from the sidelines, his voice hoarse.
Sakuragi snapped back to reality, running frantically towards the baseline, only to bump right into Daiei's guard's defensive path.
Sendo's pass was interrupted, forcing them to reorganize the offense, and Koshino's hurried shot clanked off the front rim.
A dull thud, like a hammer striking Sakuragi's nerves.
When Hei Huang jumped for the rebound, his shoulder lightly brushed Sakuragi, who staggered back two steps before regaining his balance.
By the time he looked up, Hei Huang had already passed the ball to the fast-breaking Tsuchiya Jun, who easily made a layup—54:37.
“Hahaha, is this red-haired guy here to be a clown?” A burst of laughter erupted from the Daiei fan section, “He's running around like a headless fly!”
Sakuragi's ears buzzed, as if a bee had flown into his ear canal.
He clenched his fists and glanced at the stands; several boys in Daiei jerseys were pointing and laughing at him, one of them even making a 'surrender' gesture.
“Why did Ryonan send such a rookie up?” came the murmurs from neutral fans in the back row, “That last run almost ruined his teammates' offense.”
The voices from the Ryonan fan section were even more jarring.
A boy in a baseball cap slapped the railing of the stands, “Get off, Number 10! Don't make a fool of yourself here!” Someone nearby immediately echoed, “Bring Gu Jin on! This red-haired guy is useless!”
The insults were like small stones hitting his back, not painful, but uncomfortably grating.
Sakuragi took a deep breath, trying to refocus on the game, but those pointing fingers kept flashing before his eyes, and even Uozumi's shouts for him to box out under the basket became blurry.
Daiei's offense was coming.
Tsuchiya Jun's pass was like lightning; Sakuragi clearly saw the ball's trajectory, but was half a beat too slow to react—his vision was like a zoomed-in lens, only able to see a half-meter radius in front of him, Hei Huang's figure was infinitely magnified in his sight, and even the number on his opponent's jersey became blinding.
“Bang!” Hei Huang received the ball under the basket, turned, easily slipped past Sakuragi's defense, and scored a layup. 54:39.
“Useless!” The insults from the Ryonan fan section grew fiercer, “He can't even defend a person!”
Sakuragi's face instantly flushed crimson, even brighter than his hair.
He ran back with his head down, the sound of his sneakers on the floor trembling.
When Hei Huang turned, he had actually wanted to extend his arm to block, but those laughing faces suddenly flashed in his mind, and his movement was half a beat slow—now even he himself felt like a joke.
When Ryonan served, Sendo specifically handed him the ball.
“Don't panic, just pass it to me.” Sendo's voice was soft, with a hint of reassurance.
As Sakuragi's fingertips touched the ball, he heard jeers of “Turnover! Turnover!” from the stands, his hand trembled, and the basketball almost slipped from his palm.
“Haha!” The laughter from the Daiei fan section surged like waves, “If you can't hold the ball, don't touch it!”
Sakuragi gritted his teeth and hugged the ball, as if holding a scorching hot bomb.
He wanted to throw the ball to the nearest Uozumi, but his eyes only saw Hei Huang's approaching figure; he didn't control the force of his pass well, and the basketball grazed Uozumi's fingertips and flew out—out of bounds.
“Beep!” The referee's whistle was like a needle, puncturing his last bit of confidence.
The timer next to the scoreboard showed 2 minutes and 20 seconds remaining, and after another Daiei offense, the deficit narrowed to 13 points.
Sakuragi stood on the baseline to inbound the ball, his fingers trembling.
He dared not look at the stands, but those voices seemed to have grown legs, crawling into his mind through his ears.
“How can someone with this skill level get into Ryonan? Did he pull some strings?”
“Look how nervous he is, he's probably never seen so many people before.”
“Just get off the court! It's embarrassing to watch him!”
His vision narrowed, so narrow that he could only see the baseline at his feet, and he could barely make out his teammates' positions.
Uozumi waved at him under the basket, but he stared blankly at the sweat on the floor, until the referee reminded him to “Hurry and inbound the ball,” then he frantically threw the ball out—this time directly to a Daiei player.
“Hahaha! An assist to the opponent, how about that!” Laughter also rang out from the neutral fan section.
Hei Huang received the ball and immediately launched a fast break; Sakuragi wanted to chase, but his legs felt like they were nailed to the ground.
By the time he finally started moving, the opponent had already completed a dunk, the vibrating sound of the hoop and the cheers of the crowd mixed together, as if providing 'background music' for his mistakes—54:43.
“Get out!” Someone in the Ryonan fan section threw their cheering stick to the ground, “We don't need a burden like you!”
Sakuragi's shoulders slumped, his eyes feeling a little hot.
He suddenly remembered when he first joined the team, Gu Jin said, “If you rebound well, no one will care if you're a rookie,” but now he couldn't even manage the most basic defense.
On Daiei's next offense, when Hei Huang received the ball in the paint, Sakuragi instinctively spread his arms—the movement was stiff, but more standard than before.
Hei Huang wanted to turn, but found it wasn't so easy. Although the red-haired guy still wasn't stable, he was firmly holding his position under the basket, not giving him a direct layup opportunity.
“A little progress, huh.” Hei Huang muttered softly, forced to pass the ball to the outside.
Sakuragi's heart suddenly pounded.
He didn't dare to look up, but in that instant, he seemed to have truly blocked the opponent—just as Gu Jin taught him during training, “You don't need to jump high, being in the right position is half the battle.”
Daiei's outside shot missed, and Uozumi jumped to grab the rebound. Before Sakuragi could react, he heard Gu Jin shouting from the sidelines, “Get back on defense! Don't just stand there!”
He ran back as if waking from a dream, his steps still a bit erratic, but more stable than before.
The jeers and insults from the stands continued, but somehow, those voices seemed a little further away—at least he could now clearly see his teammates' positions.
Daiei was still catching up, Tsuchiya Jun's three-pointer made the score 54:46.
“Coach, take him out!” Ikegami Ryoji's hand, clutching a towel, was gripping tightly, his eyes fixed on the court—Sakuragi's recent errant pass had practically handed an opportunity to Daiei, “If this continues, the score will be tied!”
“Yes, Coach!” Sugadaira also leaned half a step forward, his knee pressing against the bench's barrier, “Sakuragi can't concentrate at all right now, why don't we let Gu Jin go in first to stabilize the situation?”
A chorus of agreement immediately rose from the bench.
“He's even forgotten the most basic positioning; if he keeps playing, he'll only get more flustered.” One of the substitutes also frowned and nodded, “Daiei's rhythm has already picked up...”
“All of you, shut up!”
Taoka Moichi suddenly slapped his thigh, his voice like thunder interrupting everyone.
He pointed at the red-haired player standing awkwardly on the court, the veins on his neck throbbing, “Do you think you were born masters? Ikegami! The first time you played, you couldn't even hit the rim on a free throw, have you forgotten?”
Ikegami's face flushed crimson, and he lowered his head, picking at the edges of his towel.
“Sugadaira!” Taoka Moichi then turned to another person, “When you first joined the team, you were dribbled past three times in a row by the opposing guard and cried on the floor, do I need to remind you again?”
Sugadaira's ears turned hot, and he quickly turned his face away.
The bench instantly fell silent, with only the cheers and insults from the sidelines drifting in with the wind.
Taoka Moichi took a deep breath, his voice deeper, but with an undeniable force, “This is just an exhibition game! And Ryonan hasn't lost yet. If we take him out now, he'll live his entire life in the shadow of 'being abandoned when he gets nervous'!”
He pointed at Sakuragi on the court, whose view was blocked by Hei Huang, and who hadn't even seen his teammate's pass, “You're mocking his mistakes now, complaining that he's a burden—but he's the first to come to practice every day and the last to leave. Gu Jin taught him how to box out, and he practiced against a wall for an entire afternoon! Who among you has that kind of drive?”
Gu Jin, sitting nearby, quietly tugged at Taoka Moichi's jersey—the old coach's voice was too loud, even Sakuragi on the court looked over, the red-haired head bobbing in the crowd like a startled deer.
Taoka Moichi didn't stop, however. He raised his voice, deliberately making sure those on the court could hear, “Can the Prefectural Tournament allow you to make mistakes? Can the National Tournament give you a chance to practice? If you don't build up your courage now, when it comes to a real battle, are you just going to wait to be crushed?”
He suddenly pointed at the stands, spitting on the tactical board in front of him, “Let the people outside curse if they want, laugh if they want! But you are his teammates! If even you don't give him a chance, what's he playing basketball for?”
Sakuragi on the court seemed to be pinned by these words.
He had actually heard the argument on the bench earlier and seen his teammates' furrowed brows, his heart feeling like cotton soaked in water, heavy and blocked.
But now, Taoka Moichi's roar crashed into his ears, and he suddenly remembered yesterday during extra practice, Gu Jin smiling and saying, “The coach may be fierce, but he wants us to succeed more than anyone.”
“Sakuragi!” Taoka Moichi suddenly roared at the court, “Don't mind what others say! First, hold your ground against Hei Huang's lower body! Use that stance you practiced until you cramped yesterday!”
Sakuragi suddenly clenched his fists.
He watched Hei Huang again box out in the paint, took a deep breath, bent his knees slightly, and pressed his back against the opponent's waist—the movement was still a bit stiff, but much more standard than before.
Hei Huang was momentarily stunned, and when he tried to turn, he found it wasn't so easy.
He looked down at the glaring red mass behind him and suddenly curled his lips, “Finally, a bit of form.”
Taoka Moichi watched this scene, quietly let out a sigh of relief, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Gu Jin handed him a bottle of water and whispered, “What you just said was more effective than any tactical board.”
Taoka Moichi took the water, glared at him with exasperation, but as he lowered his head to twist open the cap, the corners of his mouth subtly turned upward.
The insults from the sidelines continued, but the teammates on the bench were no longer complaining—Ikegami even moved forward, staring at Sakuragi on the court, a hint of expectation in his eyes.