The 3-0 score was like a needle, piercing Rukawa Kaede's nerves.
He stood rooted, his chest heaving, his fringe soaked with sweat and plastered to his skin.
That block earlier had clearly touched the ball, yet Gu Jin still managed to send it into the hoop with a bizarre flick of his wrist—this almost unanswerable touch made the flames in his chest burn even fiercer.
"Again," Rukawa Kaede's voice was rough, but more determined than ever.
Gu Jin was strong, so strong it excited him beyond measure!
Gu Jin held the ball beyond the three-point line, his fingertips dribbling it, his gaze fixed on Rukawa Kaede's tense shoulders.
After the first three exchanges, he had figured out Rukawa Kaede's defensive logic—extreme focus, astonishing explosiveness, and that ruthlessness that said, "I'd rather foul than let you shoot easily."
Sure enough, as soon as Gu Jin started his drive, Rukawa Kaede stuck to him like an arrow released from a bow.
This time, he completely abandoned defensive distance, almost using his body to physically resist Gu Jin's advance, his arms spread to their maximum extent, his fingernails almost scraping the surface of the basketball.
"Bang!"
Gu Jin stopped abruptly and changed direction, trying to shake off the defense. Rukawa Kaede, however, seemed to anticipate it, moving sideways sharply, directly blocking Gu Jin's dribbling path.
Their bodies collided, making a dull thud.
The referee's whistle immediately blew: "Defensive foul!"
Rukawa Kaede staggered back half a step, but his eyes were fixed on the ball in Gu Jin's hands, without a hint of remorse.
The stands instantly erupted.
"Rukawa Kaede is really going all out!"
"That foul was decisive enough; if it were me, I'd probably be knocked flying!"
"But I'd do the same, wouldn't I? If Gu Jin scores again, it's truly unplayable!"
In a corner of the spectator stands, Akagi Takenori stood with his arms crossed, his brow furrowed.
Akagi Haruko, next to him, nervously clutched her cheering stick and whispered, "Brother, Rukawa-kun..."
"Strategically, he's not wrong," Akagi Takenori's voice was low, his gaze fixed on Gu Jin on the court. "To deal with an opponent of this caliber, without a do-or-die attitude, there's no chance of winning."
He paused, a hint of solemnity in his tone, "This Gu Jin, he's more terrifying than I imagined.
His rhythm, his touch, his anticipation of defense... he doesn't seem like a high school student at all."
Akagi Haruko looked at the figure in the blue and black jersey and softly hummed in agreement.
Yet, she was firmly captivated by this intense, needle-on-a-haystack showdown—Gu Jin's calm composure, Rukawa Kaede's all-in gamble, like two clashing torrents, made it impossible to look away.
Gu Jin walked to the sideline to inbound the ball, wiping the sweat from his temple with his fingertips.
Just now, Rukawa Kaede's foul had a clear aggressive edge; the collision still caused him a dull ache.
Since this guy is playing so rough, I won't be polite.
Gu Jin attacked again with the ball.
Rukawa Kaede's defense was even more frantic than before.
He was like an enraged beast; every slide step came with the sound of cutting wind, his arms swung so wide they almost touched Gu Jin's body, and even his breathing carried a fierce intensity.
The basketball on Gu Jin's fingertips still bounced rhythmically on the ground, but the pace was half a beat faster than before.
He looked up at Rukawa Kaede's tense defensive stance, then suddenly accelerated and dropped his shoulder, driving to the right.
Rukawa Kaede immediately moved sideways to block, and as their feet intertwined, their hips collided hard.
Gu Jin used the reactive force of the collision, suddenly stopping short, quickly pulling the ball back in front of him with his right hand, and simultaneously flicking his wrist to the left—this was an extremely standard crossover, with no wasted motion, yet it precisely caught Rukawa Kaede the instant his center of gravity returned.
Rukawa Kaede's reaction was already at its limit, but his body's inertia made him half a beat slow.
Just as he tried to reach out to interfere, Gu Jin had already bent his knees and jumped, cradling the ball with his right hand above his head, completing the shot with the most basic jump shot form.
The basketball, with a slight backspin, grazed the net and fell into the hoop.
4-0.
The entire process was clean and crisp, without exaggerated confrontation, yet it maximized timing and body coordination—this was the most common "rhythm kill" in professional games, tearing open the defense with subtle changes of direction and shifts in center of gravity.
Rukawa Kaede stood still, raising a hand to wipe away sweat.
That last change of direction was too tricky, like a surgical knife precisely cutting through the gaps in his defense.
He took a deep breath, his Adam's apple bobbing—this kind of offense, winning by technique and anticipation, made one's heart race more than pure physical confrontation.
The murmurs from the stands were filled with awe:
"That change of direction was so smooth! You couldn't tell where he was going at all!"
"Rukawa Kaede's defense is fast enough, right? Yet he was still faked out..."
"This is all about the details! He's not playing with brute force; he's playing with his brain!"
Akagi Takenori's tone, however, grew more solemn: "Using changes of direction to shift the defensive center of gravity, then finishing with a jump shot. Gu Jin's technique is too solid; every movement seems to have been refined a thousand times, with no wasted effort."
He turned his head to Akagi Haruko, "This is a mature offensive style, more terrifying than simply relying on speed and strength."
Akagi Haruko nodded, her gaze following Rukawa Kaede's figure.
On the court, Gu Jin again possessed the ball.
Rukawa Kaede's defensive stance was even lower, his knees almost parallel to the ground, his arms spread to form a fan-shaped barrier, and even his eyes were locked onto Gu Jin's dribbling hand—his previous mispositioning made him realize that he had to abandon gambling on steals and guard the core area with the most secure posture.
Gu Jin executed two consecutive crossover dribbles, the rhythm alternating between fast and slow.
Rukawa Kaede's defensive center of gravity was extremely low, his gaze fixed on the basketball, not even missing the subtle contraction of Gu Jin's wrist muscles—after their previous exchanges, he had figured out the opponent's habit: before a change of direction, the force of the dribbling hand would unconsciously increase.
Suddenly, Gu Jin's right-hand dribble dramatically widened, the ball almost seemed to escape control, rolling to the right, and his entire body's center of gravity also tilted right, as if he was about to charge full speed down the right side the next second.
This was a typical fake drive, but he executed it with extreme realism, even the angle of his shoulder tilt and the extent of his foot extension were just right, perfectly conforming to the force-application logic of a "full-speed drive" in actual combat.
Rukawa Kaede's nerves instantly tensed, and he subconsciously shifted his center of gravity half an inch to the right—it was this half-inch adjustment that exposed a flaw in his defense.
Gu Jin's movement was as fast as lightning.
The moment Rukawa Kaede's center of gravity shifted, he sharply pulled the ball back with his right hand, while simultaneously pivoting on his left foot, forcefully twisting his body, executing a smooth reverse spin that slid past Rukawa Kaede's side.
Rukawa Kaede knew it was bad, immediately twisted back to defend, his long arm whipping like a lash towards the ball in Gu Jin's hand.
His fingertips grazed the surface of the basketball, creating a spin, but failed to prevent Gu Jin from effortlessly flicking the ball towards the hoop.
"Swish!"
5-0.
When Gu Jin landed, Rukawa Kaede's fingertips were still suspended in mid-air.
He looked down at his own shadow on the floor, realizing for the first time with such clarity: Gu Jin's terrifying aspect lay in his ability to precisely capture every trace of hesitation from the defender, and use the most concise movements to tear open the defense—no unnecessary flashiness, yet every move struck at the soft underbelly of the defense.
But Rukawa Kaede merely wiped sweat with his sleeve and re-assumed his defensive stance.
The sound of sweat dripping on the floor, intertwined with the rhythm of the basketball bouncing, seemed to say: even if he's seen through, this showdown is not yet over.