In that instant, the entire arena erupted.
"That was amazing!!"
"Number 7 is incredible!"
"Now that's what a point guard looks like!"
Up in the stands, Aida Hikoichi's eyes were practically sparkling.
Gripping the railing tightly, he leaned forward, his whole body trembling with excitement.
"This is it! This is exactly it!"
"Even smaller players can dominate a game!"
"Miyagi Ryota… he's the idol for players built like us!"
His pen flew across the page as he scribbled notes:
Miyagi Ryota — lightning-fast — unbelievable!
"Ryota! That's how you do it!!"
Near the Shohoku bench, Ayako waved her paper fan, cheering loudly.
Her lively voice cut through the noise and struck Miyagi straight in the heart.
The same Miyagi who had just been brimming with swagger and dominance…
…froze the moment he heard her.
"A-Ayako…"
"She's cheering for me…"
"Heh… hehe…"
His face flushed bright red as he turned toward the sidelines, grinning like an idiot.
"IDIOT!! Don't look away!!"
"The game's not over yet!!"
Akagi Takenori's thunderous roar exploded like a bomb.
But in that brief second of distraction, Shoyo's defenders had already lunged in, trying to steal the ball back.
Only—
Miyagi had already anticipated it.
The next second, the ball was in Akagi's hands.
"Give it here."
A gust of wind swept past.
Before anyone realized it, Miyagi had already circled back, snatching the ball right out of Akagi's hands again.
"I'm gonna make Ayako see it clearly this time!!"
Love was a powerful force.
With the ball in hand, Miyagi's eyes locked onto the basket alone.
Like a bullet, he pierced straight into Shoyo's paint.
"Too arrogant!"
Shoyo's No. 5 and No. 7 leapt simultaneously to block.
Two massive hands blotted out the sky, sealing off nearly every angle.
"With this height, you're not getting through!"
But Miyagi didn't slow down.
At full speed, he suddenly jumped.
His body curled tightly midair, slipping past the first wave of defense.
Then—
He executed an incredibly convincing fake, as if passing out to the perimeter.
The two defenders instinctively turned their heads.
And in that instant—
"Watch closely, Ayako!"
He slipped past them and, with a soft flick of his wrist, sent the ball floating out.
It kissed the backboard gently—
"Swish!"
11:10.
Just one point behind!
After landing, Miyagi didn't celebrate.
He turned, raised his right hand, and pointed straight ahead—
At Shoyo's bench.
At the man sitting there, still wearing his jacket—
Fujima Kenji.
He didn't say a word.
But his gaze said everything:
How long are you going to sit there?
If you don't come down soon… your team is going to be eaten alive.
The entire arena fell silent.
Then—
An even louder roar exploded than before.
This was a naked provocation.
A challenge from the underdog.
Fujima Kenji looked at the finger pointing straight at him.
For the first time, a ripple crossed his calm expression.
Slowly, he stood up.
"Tweet!"
The referee's whistle rang out.
"Shoyo requests a timeout!"
"Tweet!!"
As the sharp whistle echoed, the game entered a timeout.
The scoreboard froze at 11:10.
Though Shoyo still led by one point—
The atmosphere in the arena felt as if Shohoku had taken the lead.
"Hey… was that really Shohoku's point guard just now?"
"With that height… is he even 168 cm?"
"He looks tiny, but that speed is insane!"
In the stands, the previously one-sided support for Shoyo began to crack.
Miyagi Ryota's dazzling sequence—his dribbling, steal, and that bold, taunting layup—
Had slapped every doubter in the face.
"Hahahaha! Ryota! That was awesome!!"
In a corner of the stands, the Sakuragi Army cheered wildly.
"Did you see that?! That's our Shohoku assault captain!!"
Takamiya Nozomi sprayed potato chips everywhere as he waved his arms excitedly.
"Never thought Miyagi could look this cool when he's serious. Normally he just looks like a loser getting rejected by Ayako," Mito Yohei laughed, leaning on the railing.
"Shh! Keep it down, Yohei! He'll hear you!" Ohkusu grinned.
At the sidelines, Shohoku's bench.
Miyagi Ryota strutted back like a victorious rooster, chest puffed out, walking with exaggerated swagger.
All the while, he kept sneaking glances toward Ayako.
"Ayako! So?"
"That layup just now—was it cool or what?"
He leaned in close, wearing an eager, praise-seeking grin, practically wagging an invisible tail.
Smack!
Ayako's paper fan landed squarely on his forehead.
"It was cool—but don't get carried away, you idiot, Ryota!"
Though she said it sharply, the corners of her lips lifted uncontrollably, her eyes full of amusement.
"Hehe… ow, ow…"
Miyagi clutched his forehead, but inside, he was overjoyed.
At the other end of the bench.
Makino Juro wasn't dozing like usual.
Holding his half-finished sports drink, his half-lidded, dead-fish eyes were now fixed sharply through the noisy crowd
Locked onto Shoyo's bench.
More precisely—
On the man seated there, surrounded by towering figures in green.
Fujima Kenji.
"…Interesting."
Makino Juro muttered, lightly tapping the bottle with his fingers.
"Even after being provoked like that by Miyagi, he can still smile?"
"This guy's composure runs deeper than I thought…"
…
Shoyo bench.
The atmosphere was so heavy it felt like it could drip.
Itou Taku lowered his head, gripping his towel tightly, his knuckles turning white.
Sweat dripped from his nose onto the floor, yet he didn't even dare look up at Fujima.
As a point guard, being blown past so easily—and even getting stripped by that "short guy"
It was nothing short of humiliation.
"I'm sorry… Fujima-senpai…"
His voice trembled, thick with guilt.
The others—Hasegawa, Takano, Nagano—remained silent as well.
In that brief moment, their proud "height" had seemed clumsy and sluggish in the face of Miyagi Ryota's speed.
"Everyone, lift your heads."
A calm yet unquestionable voice spoke.
Fujima Kenji sat there, no trace of anger on his face.
On the contrary.
There was even a faint smile.
A smile like a tranquilizer—
One that instantly soothed the restless hearts of the Shoyo players.
END OF CHAPTER
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