Freshman possession.
Kogure brought the ball up to find Ikeda waiting for him, arms spread wide in defensive stance.
Ikeda knew the crossover was dangerous.
He gave Kogure space—better to concede the jumper than get blown by on the drive.
Preparation didn’t matter.
The gap had widened too far in five days.
Kogure went from weak team starter to strong team sixth man.
They weren’t on the same level anymore.
Between-the-legs dribble into a lightning-quick crossover.
Multiple hesitations, varied rhythm—Ikeda’s center of gravity lurched despite his caution.
The opening appeared.
With maxed reaction, Kogure saw it instantly and attacked.
He threaded the needle through Ikeda’s defense and rose up for the pull-up.
Swish.
Two more points.
Shocked silence from the sideline.
Even the seniors looked stunned.
Kogure entered full scoring mode.
Crossover breakdowns, pull-up jumpers, catch-and-shoot threes from deep.
When defenders doubled, he whipped passes to open teammates for easy buckets.
Five minutes.
Eleven points, two assists.
Complete offensive takeover.
The seniors weren’t terrible—Kogure was just operating at a different level now.
Like young Uozumi posting absurd numbers against teams without strong interior defense, earning his “Monster” nickname.
Mismatched competition inflated stats.
Ikeda refused to quit.
He attacked Kogure off the dribble, using his preferred scoring method—drive and finish through contact.
Kogure’s maxed reaction kept him attached.
He stayed in Ikeda’s hip pocket through the entire drive, then elevated with him at the rim.
Full extension.
Kogure’s fingertips grazed the ball mid-flight, just enough to alter trajectory.
Clang.
Backboard.
Akagi secured the rebound.
Senior morale collapsed.
Desperation crept in—rushed shots, careless passes, turnovers.
They couldn’t threaten anymore.
Ikeda called timeout again, scrambling for solutions.
On the freshman bench, Kogure tapped Akagi’s shoulder.
“You see it yet?”
“See what?” Akagi looked confused.
“Suzuki-senpai’s weakness.”
“His speed?”
“Speed, yes.
But also stamina.” Kogure leaned in.
“We run. Get faster updates on g.com.
Full-court, every possession.
With Suzuki’s conditioning, he can’t keep up.
We’ll create five-on-four advantages all game.”
Akagi frowned.
“What if Suzuki doesn’t even cross halfcourt on offense?”
Kogure stared at him like he’d grown a second head.
“That’s even better.
They’re playing four-on-five on offense.
Their scoring efficiency tanks.”
“Oh.” Akagi smacked his forehead.
“Right.
How did I miss that?”
Realization dawned.
With Kogure’s guidance, Akagi had found the key to dismantling Suzuki’s defensive strategy.
Timeout ended.
Whatever Ikeda said worked—the seniors looked composed again.
At least their offense stopped resembling a train wreck.
Swish.
Ikeda fed Takahashi for a clean mid-range jumper.
Immediately, Kogure shouted: “Push!”
Akagi inbounded quickly, then sprinted downcourt with his head down.
The rest of the freshman team understood—full-court attack.
“Get back!
Get back!” Ikeda’s voice cracked with urgency.
Too late.
Suzuki gave maximum effort but fell behind anyway, exactly as Kogure predicted.
The freshman team had numbers.
Ito stopped Okamoto at halfcourt.
Okamoto swung it immediately to Kogure on the wing.
Kogure attacked in transition, drawing defenders before hitting Akagi cutting to the rim.
“Not happening!” Ikeda chased from behind, trying to contest.
Futile.
Like a mantis trying to stop a truck.
Akagi caught the lob in stride, rose up with both hands, and detonated.
BOOM!
The rim bent at an alarming angle from the force.
The backboard shook.
Akagi landed and roared, pounding his chest repeatedly.
Every ounce of frustration from earlier released in that one cathartic moment.
The freshman team mobbed him, hands flying for high-fives.
Across the court, the seniors exchanged helpless glances.
Powerless.
Suzuki’s fatal flaw had been exposed.
The game continued, but the outcome was decided.
The senior team’s mentality fractured.
Impatience bred mistakes.
Their offense disintegrated—no rhythm, no cooperation, just individuals forcing bad shots.
Defense became porous, unable to stop the freshman onslaught.
Their offense flowed like a river, wave after relentless wave.
Scoring efficiency doubled the seniors’.
Ikeda tried subbing Suzuki out.
Didn’t help.
Without Suzuki anchoring the paint, the freshman team reverted to four-out offense.
Akagi dominated the interior without resistance.
But if Suzuki played, the fast break killed them.
Damned either way.
The lead ballooned past twenty points.
No suspense remained.
Coach Anzai stood from his oversized chair and stopped the game.
No point crushing the seniors’ confidence completely.
The freshmen protested silently but obeyed.
Nobody defied the coach.
“This freshman class is impressive,” one senior muttered.
“Especially Akagi and Kogure.”
“Maybe we actually survive the first round this year.
If we’re lucky, top eight in the prefectural tournament?”
“Top eight?
Keep dreaming.
That’s fantasy.”
Despite the painful loss, the freshmen’s performance gave the seniors something they’d lacked: hope.
Kogure pulled up his system notifications:
[New Attribute Unlocked: Playmaking]
[Your playmaking attribute has reached panel threshold and will now be displayed!]
He reviewed the explanation.
Passing controlled accuracy—short and long distance.
Playmaking governed tactical initiation, offensive organization, directing teammate movement, connecting team offense, executing game plans, controlling pace.
Different attributes.
Both essential for running an offense.
Kogure scanned the progress bars—significant gains across the board from one scrimmage.
Far more efficient than pure training.
Competition accelerated growth dramatically compared to solo practice.
Unfortunately, games didn’t happen daily.
Coach Anzai stood, surveying each player slowly.
“I have an announcement.
I’ve received an invitation from Coach Taoka of Ryonan High School.
They’ve requested a friendly scrimmage this weekend.
The game will be held here at Shohoku.” His expression remained placid.
“I expect everyone to be fully prepared.”
The gym went silent.
Ryonan—one of the prefecture’s powerhouses.
Kogure’s pulse quickened.
This weekend.
Against Ryonan’s varsity squad.
The real test was coming.