The basketball spun steadily in Maki Shinichi's palm, each friction between his fingertips and the ball's surface carrying a deliberately slowed rhythm.
The continuous scoring drought just now had extinguished the fiery impatience in his heart like cold water; what remained now was a calmness harder than steel.
He stared at Sendoh, no longer eager to break through, but instead used slow dribbling to measure the distance between them, as if recalculating the coordinates of this battlefield.
Sendoh's center of gravity was very low, his arms spread like wings, and the focus in his eyes was undisguised.
Maki Shinichi moved suddenly.
There was no fake move, no change of direction, just a straight charge to the right, his shoulder sinking slightly, carrying immense force as he crashed into Sendoh's defensive line.
This was the most brutal way to play, but also the most direct test—he wanted to see if Sendoh's core strength could truly withstand it.
“Bang!”
Their shoulders collided hard; Sendoh's body swayed but didn't retreat a single step, his arms still firmly locked in front of Maki Shinichi.
A flicker of surprise crossed Maki Shinichi's eyes, then his wrist flipped quickly, the basketball circling half a turn around his fingertips, suddenly a behind-the-back crossover, attempting to break through from the left.
Sendoh's reaction was even faster; his left foot planted as if nailed to the floor, his body sliding sideways half a step, his left hand precisely blocking the basketball's path.
“Was I read?” Maki Shinichi's heart tightened, but he didn't panic.
He used the reactive force from their body contact to sharply retreat, simultaneously pulling the ball to his chest with his right hand, knees slightly bent—the starting motion for a pull-up jump shot!
Sendoh immediately jumped to block, his long arms almost obscuring the light in front of Maki Shinichi.
Just then, Maki Shinichi's shooting motion suddenly changed; with a slight flick of his wrist, the basketball didn't leave his hand but, following the gap in Sendoh's block, slipped to his left hand through the space between their bodies.
It was a pump fake!
This fake move was so convincing it deceived Sendoh's defensive balance; the moment he realized he had been fooled, Maki Shinichi had already used that half-second window, taking half a step forward with the ball in his left hand, his body leaning back slightly in the air, avoiding Sendoh's recovering arm.
With a flick of his fingertips, the basketball spun towards the hoop.
“Swish—”
4:1.
As the sound of the basketball swishing through the net landed, Maki Shinichi's chest heaved as he landed, but he stared intently at Sendoh, a hint of confirmation added to the coldness in his eyes—he had found the rhythm to break the defense.
Sendoh wiped away some sweat, a smile instead curving his lips: “Interesting. Let's see you defend this!”
Sendoh advanced with the ball, no longer eager to break through as before, but instead used continuous crossover dribbles to manipulate Maki Shinichi's center of gravity.
The basketball weaved between his legs, its rhythm fluctuating, like playing an eerie tune.
Maki Shinichi's defense maintained a half-step distance, his gaze tightly fixed on the basketball, his footwork subtly adjusting with Sendoh's rhythm.
He knew Sendoh was waiting for him to expose a weakness, so each shift of his center of gravity held back a third of its power, leaving room for adjustment.
Suddenly, Sendoh's dribbling rhythm sharply accelerated!
The basketball bounced at his fingertips as if trying to break free, a swift in-and-out dribble followed by a behind-the-back crossover, the entire sequence flowing seamlessly, almost blurring into a single afterimage, as he charged towards the left side of the paint.
This time, Maki Shinichi didn't rush to block but waited until Sendoh took his first step, then suddenly shifted his weight onto his left leg, simultaneously extending his right hand like an iron clamp towards the basketball—he was betting Sendoh would use that Kashgar Step again!
Sendoh's footwork was indeed as he expected; the moment his left toe pivoted on the ground, he suddenly realized Maki Shinichi's defensive center of gravity was half a beat faster than before.
“He reacted?” Sendoh's mind raced, his body forcefully twisting in mid-air, the second step he was about to take was abruptly pulled back, changing into an emergency pull-up jump shot.
The moment the basketball left his fingertips, Maki Shinichi's block was already in front of him.
“Slap!”
His fingertips grazed the ball's surface, and the basketball's spin instantly became erratic, hitting the front rim and bouncing off.
Maki Shinichi calmly secured the rebound, his eyes sharp as a knife when he landed.
Evenly matched!
Equal in strength!
But can the disadvantage truly be overcome?
The next few possessions saw attacks from both sides.
5:1, 2:5, 6:2, 3:7.
Both players scored solid baskets, updating the score.
Every one of Maki Shinichi's shots lacked any flashiness; they were either pull-up jump shots after body contact or layups after faking out the defense, slowly eroding Sendoh's lead like a dull knife cutting flesh.
Gu Jin, on the sidelines, crossed his arms, his eyebrows slightly raised.
Indeed, he lives up to his reputation as Maki Shinichi.
Any other opponent, down 0:3, would have already been flustered, either blindly speeding up and making mistakes or collapsing mentally and losing defensive position.
But he, with an iron will, managed to stabilize the rhythm, even finding defensive patterns from Sendoh's offense—no longer aiming for steals, but using relentless close-quarters defense and body contact to force Sendoh to finish with more difficult moves.
“This guy's tenacity is the true meaning behind the title 'Emperor,'” Gu Jin muttered to himself, his gaze turning to Sendoh on the court, “But it's still not enough.”
Taoka Moichi was already pacing anxiously in front of the coach's bench, his shouts cracking: “Sendoh! Don't give him a chance to find his rhythm! Press him! Overwhelm him with your speed!”
Sendoh wiped sweat from his forehead, flames flickering in his eyes.
“You have a desire for victory, and victory is sweet to me too!”
He looked at Maki Shinichi; the other's breathing was steady, his defensive stance like a rock, the calmness in his eyes like a layer of ice.
The last few baskets, rather than Maki Shinichi playing well, were more due to himself being thrown off by the opponent's rhythm—eager to widen the lead, he instead gave him room to adjust.
“Want to stabilize?” Sendoh patted the basketball, his knuckles white from gripping, “Not that easy.”
The moment he took possession, he suddenly accelerated to the right, and just as Maki Shinichi shifted his weight, his wrist sharply flipped, the basketball going behind his back to his left hand, while his left toe fiercely pivoted on the ground, the angle of his knee bend even more tricky than before—it was still the Kashgar Step, but the stride was a full half-foot wider than before!
This step was so fast it exceeded Maki Shinichi's prediction; as he tried to adjust his center of gravity, Sendoh's left shoulder had already brushed past his armpit, his entire body cutting into the paint like an arrow released from a bow.
“Now!”
The moment Sendoh leaped, his right hand firmly caught the basketball, his body extending to its maximum in the air, avoiding Maki Shinichi's block from behind.
With a gentle flick of his fingertips, the basketball once again fell into the net.
8:3.
As he landed, Sendoh deliberately bumped Maki Shinichi's arm with his shoulder, the sharpness in his eyes undisguised: “I told you, don't think about catching your breath.”
Maki Shinichi looked at the scoreboard, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Sweat dripped down his jawline, hitting the floor and spreading into a small dark patch, but his eyes were brighter than before.
What if he was down by 5 points?
He was Maki Shinichi, the Emperor of Kanagawa.
Dignity was never maintained by leading, but by being able to stand tall and say, even when behind—
“Again.”
