The whistle for the second half sounded like a bugle call. As the Ryokufu players clutched the ball and charged towards the Lehao half, their steps still carried the disarray from the first half.
“Damn it! Damn it!! Damn it!!!”
Fujisawa Eri couldn't understand. She had clearly recruited top players from various schools (American high schools or famous Japanese basketball schools), so why were they being beaten like this?
On the court, John Gedd accelerated, trying to continue a fast break, but Moriyama Ryota stuck to him like a piece of chewing gum. When he made a sudden stop and passed the ball to Kurami Ichiro in the corner, the moment the ball left his hand, Sasaki Rin had already pounced from an angle, his fingertips brushing the edge of the ball and deflecting it out of bounds.
“Tsk, still the same,” Taoka Moichi’s voice reached Aida Hikoichi’s ears through the noisy stadium. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his right thumb unconsciously rubbing the muscles of his left arm, his gaze fixed on the figure in the dark blue tracksuit on the Ryokufu bench—Fujisawa Eri was standing up, shouting something, the urgency in her tone palpable even from across the court.
Aida Hikoichi was hunched over, jotting down data, his pen adding another mark in the “Ryokufu Fast Break Errors” column: “Coach, Lehao’s zone defense is too good. Ryokufu has had multiple ineffective offenses.”
“Ineffective offense? They’re just playing chaotically!” Taoka Moichi sneered, raising his hand and pointing to the court, “Look at John Gedd, 192 centimeters tall, his center of gravity when dribbling is lower than a 180-centimeter guard. Is this how he should be playing?”
It was Ryokufu’s turn to attack. James Wallace received the ball at the free-throw line, and he should have used his height and weight advantage to drive into the restricted area, but he hesitated and dribbled towards the three-point line.
Isamu Ishida had already anticipated his route, standing firm with his feet apart, his upper body upright, relying only on his core strength to steadily hold his position.
When James changed direction, he couldn’t completely get around Isamu Ishida, his shoulder lightly bumping Isamu Ishida’s torso, and he himself lost half a beat in his dribbling rhythm due to unstable force.
“Hikoichi, have you ever seen a bear learn to fly like an eagle?” Taoka Moichi suddenly asked.
Aida Hikoichi was stunned: “Bear? Eagle?”
“Ryokufu is that bear,” Taoka Moichi pointed to the Ryokufu players. “Look at their physiques—Na Takamitsu is 195 centimeters, James is 191 centimeters, Mike is 195 centimeters. When they stand under the basket, they are the ones who can completely tear open the defense with their physical advantage. Those are their claws and fangs.
But look at them now, they’re not using their advantage under the basket. Instead, they’re trying to run fast breaks with Lehao’s group of smaller players who are good at zone defense, trying to learn how to weave and make split passes. Isn’t this a bear throwing away its claws and trying to flap its paw pads to catch rabbits like an eagle?”
As soon as he finished speaking, Lehao’s counterattack had already pushed to the frontcourt.
Moriyama Ryota accelerated, shaking off Kurami Ichiro, and his layup was blocked by the retreating Na Takamitsu. But the moment the basketball hit the floor, Takeshi Arakawa’s long arm had already scooped up the ball, passing it backhand to Tanaka Osamu on the outside. That center unhesitatingly raised his hand for a three-pointer—swish.
53:42, the score difference was widened again.
On the Ryokufu bench, Fujisawa Eri’s voice suddenly rose: “Faster! Play fast break! Don’t give them a chance to react!”
Fujisawa Eri was already somewhat disappointed with this team. Why couldn’t they be like Ryonan… “Did you hear?” Taoka Moichi’s eyes darkened, “The problem lies here.
The young lady of the Fujisawa family is determined to play at a fast pace. It seems she wants to emulate our Ryonan, but she hasn’t understood that they are bears, and Ryonan is an eagle!”
“An eagle relies on speed, vision, on people like Sendoh having an all-around view when dribbling, on Gu Jin’s unexpected movements when weaving and running. It’s about speed, accuracy, and change.
But these Ryokufu kids, at their core, play like bears—they have many foreign players, and their style of play should naturally be more robust and diverse. They can pound inside, shoot from outside, relying on physical dominance and multiple scoring threats.
But now? To learn the swiftness of an eagle, they’ve worn down their bear paws.”
Ryokufu on the court indeed started to pick up the pace again.
John Gedd forced a breakthrough and passed the ball. When Mike Okita received the ball on the wing, an old ankle injury made him a half-beat slow in his jump, and his shot was blocked by Takeshi Arakawa’s long arm.
Upon landing, Mike clutched his ankle and frowned, the anxiety in his eyes greater than the pain.
“Look at Mike Okita,” Taoka Moichi continued, “As a 195-centimeter small forward, he clearly makes his living by shooting over mismatches using his height. Now he’s being forced to learn Sendoh’s breakthrough and pass style. Isn’t this playing to his weaknesses instead of his strengths?
And then there’s Kurami Ichiro. Three-pointers are clearly his strong suit, but he’s being asked to frequently move around to receive fast break passes, and his shooting touch has long since gone cold.”
Aida Hikoichi flipped through his notebook, suddenly realizing: “No wonder Lehao’s zone defense is effective!
Ryokufu abandoning their inside advantage is like a bear abandoning the mountains and forests, running to the plains to compete with an eagle in flying—they can’t exert their strength at all!”
“Well said, Hikoichi.” Taoka Moichi nodded with satisfaction, his gaze returning to the court.
Ryokufu’s offense was once again thwarted. Na Takamitsu received the ball under the basket, and he should have powered through Tanaka Osamu, but he habitually tried to pass to a fast-breaking teammate, resulting in a steal by Moriyama Ryota.
Lehao executed a fast break, and Sasaki Rin hit a jump shot from the free-throw line. Several offensive silences allowed the score to be widened again to 55:42.
The Ryokufu players’ shoulders slumped, and even Coach Coleman’s voice shouting tactics from the sidelines sounded powerless.
Fujisawa Eri stood in front of the bench, her face pale, finally no longer shouting “fast break,” but just clenching her fists tightly.
“A basketball court is like a hunting ground,” Taoka Moichi’s voice carried a hint of emotion, “Bears have their way of life, and eagles have their strategies.
Forcing a bear to act like an eagle will only result in it neither flying like a bird nor pouncing like a predator, being rubbed on the ground by a team like Lehao, which understands defense and can take a beating.”
He paused, looking at the Lehao players high-fiving each other: “What Ryokufu needs to understand most is—they are not Ryonan, and they will never become Ryonan.
If they want to win, they must first revert to being that bear that dares to tear with its claws and press with its weight.”
The whistle on the court blew again; Ryokufu called a timeout.
When Aida Hikoichi looked up, he saw the faint smile on Taoka Moichi’s lips, as if he had already foreseen the outcome of this hunt.
And in the heat of the gymnasium, if that “bear” from Ryokufu, forcibly given wings, continued to flap its paw-like wings aimlessly, they would drift further and further from their true hunting ground.
On the Ryokufu bench.
“Let me play!”
Mitsui Hisashi’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was like a stone dropped into Ryokufu’s deathly quiet bench.
He wore the number 14 jersey, his eyes, burning with fire, were astonishingly bright, sweeping past his teammates’ tense faces, past the coach’s startled expression, finally landing on the glaring score difference on the scoreboard.
“Give me three minutes,” his Adam’s apple bobbed, and a defiant curve played on his lips, “Let them see what a miracle is.”