Matsuoka Naseru was impressed. As Ryota dove past Captain Isamu, attempting to perform the same sequence of movements Naseru had used on him, he felt the faintest smile curl up at the edges of his lips. He stabbed his thumbnail into the soft flesh of his palm, the pain ebbing the swirling emotions in his core. He watched Ryota's footwork, how open his arms were for a prospective attack, too, but he was already in the prime position for a confident jump shot. Captain Isamu had jumped for it and tried to block it, but failed to intercept the ball in time.
The team whooped and cheered, revelling in the successful way Ryota had implemented the move. Even though Naseru had made half a dozen mental notes to correct his form. Ryota was a pool of untapped potential energy, and his toolbox was full of crafty moved he could pull out of thin air, but when attempting them he was too loose. Naseru narrowed his eyes.
Beside him, Kaho was bouncing on the balls of her feet. She had her dark hair in twin tails and they seemed to go up and down with her. Her eyes were shining as she watched Ryota on the court. Naseru wondered whether she knew how much she shone for others. He almost considered telling her, but forced himself to remain quiet, once again, stabbing his palms with his thumbnails.
Captain Isamu grabbed Ryota by the fabric of his shirt, "You're some sorry excuse for an ace."
"Oi!" Captain Hirano shouted, "Don't talk to him like that."
"What are you going to do about it?" Captain Isamu jeered. He was over half a head taller than Captain Hirano, and yet, his white-hot anger could have burned the entire gym down in his wake. He strode onto the court and clutched Captain Isamu's wrist in his fist, wrenching Ryota free.
Ryota backed up and left the court.
"I've not seen Azumi this pissed in forever," Konoishi declared.
"Not since Omura got injured," Fumiko nodded. She clutched her clipboard close to her chest and took a long, slow breath.
"You have no right to say that about our ace," Captain Hirano declared.
"If he's your ace then what are you even doing, Cap'in?" Captain Isamu sneered.
"Oi! Azumi!" Sunada shouted, snatching the neon pink basketball from Ryota's hands. He tossed it back onto the court.
"This is my team," Captain Hirano said, "And I'm in charge. You have something to say about them, say it to me. Don't knock them when you're here picking fights with a bench warmer."
Captain Isamu balled a fist.
Kaho glanced at Naseru, his clueless front was back on, like he could feel the gazes of Kuroyama and Seiran's teams on him. He kept his mask on and lowered his head, like he was embarrassed of sucking.
"If you think Kathen would let one of his kids exist without knowing how to play, you're an idiot."
Captain Hirano looked past Isamu, bounced the ball and dribbled past him. Like he didn't exist.
Isamu's nostrils flared, he reached for the ball and smacked it out of Hirano's hands. He held it between splayed, claw-like fingers, and swung the ball, as if he was going to throw it squarely at Hirano's face. But just inches from the bridge of his nose, Isamu stopped moving his arm. He just held the ball in front of Hirano's face. Just like he had with Naseru. Was this the only way he knew how to throw his weight around?
"Ah, I must have dropped this," Hirano said sardonically, wrenching Ryota's ball from Isamu's fist, and scoring, "Uh, guys? The hell do you think you're doing on the bench? Get back here!"
The members of Hanagawa's team who'd been on the court scrambled to their feet, taking their offensive positions. They stood and smirked at Isamu, as he tried to summon his team. They lacked Hanagawa's enthusiasm. One of his teammates was on his phone, playing 'Candy Crush'. The phone had to be wrenched from his fist by Coach Itomi. The team headed back onto the court. Most had conceded that Captain Isamu's tantrum had made the rest of their match forfeit. But not Hanagawa. They were ready to mix it up.
Captain Isamu's insults had lit a fire under Hanagawa's arses. Even on the bench, Kaho could feel the pent up energy. Before Isamu had even attempted to pass, Nitta had dived past him and tackled the ball from his hands. He passed the ball behind Isamu's back to Omura, who dribbled from the outside to the inside, his shoes squeaking on the floor as he kept a hand splayed out in front of him, trying to ward the Kuroyama defence from him. He attempted a jump shot, but it was knocked off trajectory by a defender, leaving the ball ricoheting off the rim of the hoop and soaring into the ready hands of Sunada who dribbled the three paces back he needed to score a three. He made an attempt and the ball teetered along the rim again, eventually falling in Hanagawa's favour.
One of Isamu's teammates tossed the ball back into play to the defenders, who passed it back to him like a game of hot potato. The ball passed from player to player on the inside like a pinball machine. But they were barely moving. Were they running down the clock?
Ryota and Nitta tried to intercept the ball from the three players. They hoped that breaking their rhythm of passing and knocking the ball onto the floor would give Hanagawa control again. It was Nitta that managed to smack the ball out of the way between the defenders.
Ryota's ball, like a magnet, found its way back to his hands. He grinned and feinted for a jump shot, fooling two of the defence, and veered to the right, where the third followed, who was left flabbergasted when Hirano brushed past Ryota, snagging the ball from him and scoring with a comfortable jump shot.
The game was like it was in slow motion. Kaho was entranced by it all.
"That pass was so stealthy!" Yamada exclaimed.
"Eh," Eiji said, "It was luck."
Yuta nodded beside him,
Kaho knew better than to question that. But she didn't mind hearing that Ryota had more to learn. He was a sponge for knowledge, gameplay and tactics, he loved adding another trick, move, and skill to his repertoire. Suddenly Kaho wanted this game to be over. She wanted this whole retreat to end, so she could sit in a pokey classroom with Eiji, Yuta, and Ryota, so she knew he would learn how to do it.
She screwed her eyes closed and shook her head. She had to focus on the now. She had a game to watch. Her eyes flickered to the Seiran team, and Jean-Luc Barbier, who was staring at Ryota as he moved on the court. He waved at Kaho and pointed toward Ryota and gave her a thumbs up. Kaho giggled, unsure of how to thank him without distracting the players.
Kuroyama had the ball when Kaho turned back to the court, Captain Isamu and Omura were struggling for dominance under the net as one of the other Kuroyama boys attempted a three. Ryota misstimed the jump and didn't even graze the ball as he leapt for it. The ball bounced on the rim. Omura jumped for the ball, but Isamu got the rebound and dunked.
Omura didn't land properly, and slipped on his heel, falling with a thunk on the floor. He swore through his teeth. Isamu, to his credit, did yank Omura to his feet and clap him on the back. Perhaps he remembered that Omura was recovering from an injury.
"You good, bud?"
"Yeah," Omura said, struggling to his feet.
Hirano and Sunada rushed to his side. Sunada helped him hobble to the bench, Omura was swearing under his breath as he put his head in his hands.
"Do you want to call it, Taiga?" Coach Itomi shouted.
"Nah, he's fine. Just quitting while he's ahead. Can you use that radio there to request some ice."
"Yeah, Akane! Call for ice."
"Yes, Coach," Akane said, grabbing the radio and babbling into it.
Until help came, the game could continue. There was no point in stalling. They were running out of daylight, and Captain Isamu's challenges for one-on-ones had drained more than enough time. Kaho bit her lip and cast a worried glance at Taiga.
"You need anything, Nobu?" Fumiko asked quietly.
"You got any ibuprofen?"
Fumiko nodded and slunk back to where a small fanny pack sat on the floor. Inside were a few tampons, a singular princess plaster and a blister packet of medicine. She handed it to Omura as Taiga spoke to the remaining third-year students. The second-years had been relegated to bench warming for the moment. Taiga wasn't showing his hand.
He frowned and approached Matsushita. He grinned and got to his feet, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Taiga clapped Matsushita on the shoulder, "You're in, go show them what you've got."
Matsushita saluted him like he was a drill sergeant and headed onto the court. He bumped shoulders with Nitta and cracked his knuckles. There were five seconds on the clock, and Matsushita was quick on the court. He grinned at Omura and Omura flipped him off, but forced a smile regardless. Taiga clapped him on the back.
Captain Hirano threw the ball back into play, passing straight through to Nitta. He strode across the court with fluid confident moves. He passed in a high arc to Matsushita who jumped, feinting, and jumping up, as if he was going to shoot, and passed in a scooping downward motion toward Ryota, who was just in the outside, and managed to land a three, extending Hanagawa's lead.
"Damn, that was smooth," said Sato Kenji, the Kuroyama vice. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair. He grinned, "Sick moves, my guy."
As Kuroyama took possession of the ball, Kaho glanced over at Taiga, who had his eyes on the clock. The game was almost over, and Hanagawa's lead was slim. Eight points and three minutes of play. Kaho bit her lip.
Matsushita was a pace-changer, even when Kuroyama had possession. Matsushita was quick-footed with defence. He would slip into the cracks and swat the ball out of bounds like he was playing volleyball, instead. He snatched a ball out of play between passes and passed to Ryota, who bounced the ball in his yo-yo style, with such control it was like the ball was airborne between his hands. He then passed the ball between his legs and into the waiting hands of Sunada, who forced his way into the inside. Sunada and Captain Isamu brawled at the Kuroyama basket, but, Sunada managed to force the ball through the hoop in a sloppy dunk.
Eiji, Yuta and Yamada whooped. Kaho copied them. Time was ticking, but Kuroyama were quick to move back onto the offensive, trying to score. Hanagawa didn't have even a moment to breathe before Kuroyama were trying to find a chink in their armour.
Fumiko was furiously scribbling notes without even looking at her notepad. There was no guarantee her words would be legible. But she'd seen something; something Kaho couldn't quite decipher.
"Fumiko is like a player on the sidelines," Naseru said quietly, "She has basketball intelligence, like the best of the best always do. There's prediction in it, foresight. She's probably seen the same thing I have."
"And that is?" Kaho asked quietly.
"They're strong, but their defence is weak. Like ours- yours."