“Hei Huang, warm up!” Morita Masanobu’s molars ached as he ground his teeth, his voice sounding like it was being squeezed from deep within his throat.
He stared at the figure at the end of the bench who still hadn't taken off his jacket, his knuckles digging white marks into the tactics board—where was the time for pride now? If they lost again, Ryonan would strip them bare.
As the referee by the scorer's table made the 'substitution' gesture, the sound of a plastic stool being knocked over came from the Daiei bench.
The teenager in jersey number 9 suddenly stood up, 184 centimeters tall, yet weighing 100 kilograms.
His physique was like a mobile fortress in the crowd; when he tore off his jacket, his arm muscles bulged. He had no excess fat, only powerful muscles.
Hei Huang's warm-up movements carried a clear anger, each dribble thudding heavily against the floor.
“Daiei is making a substitution?” Someone in the front row of the audience leaned forward. “That guy looks even bigger than the center!”
“Is it Hei Huang? I saw him in a practice match before; he can directly send opponents flying when grabbing rebounds!”
Amidst the discussions, Daiei’s number 6, Onodera Ritsu, walked to the sidelines with heavy steps. As he passed Hei Huang, he was bumped by his shoulder, stumbling and almost falling—this was no accidental bump, but clearly a pent-up force meant to unleash all the team's frustration onto the court.
On the Ryonan bench, Gu Jin was wiping sweat from his forehead with a towel.
Taoka Moichi said with satisfaction, “That behind-the-back crossover layup you just made was beautiful. You rest for three minutes; let Sakuragi go in and make a charge.” He waved to the sidelines, “Sakuragi! Loosen up your ankles!”
Sakuragi Hanamichi immediately jumped up, his fingers messing up his red hair: “Coach, don’t worry! A genius never needs to warm up before entering the game!” Before he finished speaking, Gu Jin grabbed the back collar of his jersey.
“Listen.” Gu Jin pulled him to the advertising board. “Daiei’s number 9 is coming for the rebounds. Don’t go head-to-head with him when jumping—you must box him out, understand?” He paused, then suddenly curved his lips into a smile, “Dominating the rebounds means dominating the entire court.”
“Got it! Easy! Easy!” Sakuragi said dismissively, but as Gu Jin turned to walk towards the bench, he quietly clenched his fists, glaring at Hei Huang who was warming up his wrists on the court. “All the rebounds belong to this genius!”
“Beep—!”
The referee’s whistle interrupted the whispers on the sidelines.
The commentator’s voice immediately echoed through the stadium: “Both sides are making substitutions simultaneously! For Ryonan, number 17 Gu Jin is coming off to rest, and number 10 Sakuragi Hanamichi is entering the game—this rookie is making his first appearance in an official match today! Daiei Academy is replacing number 6 Onodera Ritsu with number 9 Hei Huang. It seems Coach Morita wants to strengthen the inside game in the final stages of the first half!”
As Sakuragi ran onto the court with exaggerated steps, the scoreboard read 50:27.
Uozumi was about to give him a few instructions when he saw the red-haired teenager suddenly bounce three times in place, then lift his chin at Hei Huang: “Hey! Big guy! This genius will show you what rebound dominance is!”
Hei Huang didn’t even lift his eyelids, merely bent down and patted his sneakers, the sound of their soles scraping the floor like a cold sneer.
As Daiei’s baseline inbound pass was released, Hei Huang suddenly bulldozed into the paint like a tank.
Sakuragi was just thinking about Gu Jin’s “box out” advice when he was unexpectedly elbowed in the side by his opponent, stumbling back two steps—this force was heavier than when he sparred with Uozumi during practice!
“Rookie!” Hei Huang sneered in a low voice, extending a long arm to steadily catch his teammate’s pass.
He didn’t look at his surrounding teammates, turning to drive towards the basket. Uozumi was about to provide help defense but was tightly entangled by Daimoto Tadunobu—Daiei had clearly designed a special strategy for him.
How could Sakuragi tolerate this insult? He clenched his fists, ready to charge, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gu Jin waving at him from the bench.
“Calm down… calm down, my foot!” The little man in his heart was stomping, while on the court, Hei Huang had already jumped up, meeting Sendoh’s help defense.
“Bang!”
The moment the basketball was slammed into the hoop, Sakuragi froze.
He hadn't followed Hei Huang to contest for position, instead retreating to the edge of the three-second zone, which allowed Hei Huang to score so easily.
But why did he suddenly feel unable to move just now? Was he nervous?
No, I am a genius!
Thinking this, Sakuragi shook his head sharply, clearing his mind of distractions.
As Ryonan's offensive possession began, Sakuragi clenched his palms—the basketball spun lightly in Sendoh's hands, but he stared at Hei Huang's broad back, his Adam's apple bobbing involuntarily.
His earlier boasts still echoed in his ears, but standing on the court, his legs still felt a bit wobbly.
“Move, Sakuragi!” Uozumi roared from under the basket.
Sakuragi snapped back to attention. Just as he was about to cut to the baseline, Hei Huang extended an arm to block his path.
He tried to get around him in a panic, but his feet felt like they were filled with lead, and he ended up blocking Sendoh’s passing lane instead.
“Thud!” Sendoh’s pass hit Sakuragi’s arm and bounced away, and Daiei immediately launched a fast break.
“Oh no!” Sakuragi wanted to chase, but Hei Huang gave him a light shove with his shoulder, making him stumble and almost fall.
By the time he regained his footing, Tsuchiya Jun had already scored an easy layup under the basket—50:31.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Uozumi frowned and looked over. Sakuragi’s ears instantly turned red. He was about to explain, but then he saw Hei Huang beckon him with a finger, his eyes looking as if he were observing a troublesome obstacle.
Taoka Moichi shouted from the sidelines: “It’s okay, play this possession steadily.”
Ryonan inbounded the ball again, and Sakuragi was determined to make up for his mistake.
He saw Koshino raise his hand beyond the three-point line and instinctively charged towards the basket—completely forgetting Gu Jin’s advice to “box out first, then rebound.”
Hei Huang had already seen through his intentions, remaining stationary and waiting for him to rush over. The moment Sakuragi jumped, he suddenly turned sideways.
“Ouch!” Sakuragi swung at air, almost crashing into the backboard support.
Meanwhile, Hei Huang had already steadily secured Koshino’s missed rebound, passing it with one hand to a teammate on the fast break.
Another fast break score, 50:33.
“This rookie is too nervous, isn’t he?” someone in the audience commented.
Sakuragi clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms—if he hadn’t panicked just now, he definitely could have stopped that ball.
He secretly glanced at the bench; Gu Jin was gesturing for him to “take a deep breath,” and Taoka Moichi was also looking at him expectantly.
When it was Daiei’s offense, Tsuchiya Jun deliberately threw the ball very high.
Sakuragi’s eyes lit up, and he leaped up to grab it—he jumped half a head higher than Hei Huang, even touching the ball with his fingertips, but he didn’t land steadily. He watched helplessly as Hei Huang caught the ball beside him and turned to dunk.
“50:35! Daiei has closed the gap by 9 points!” The commentator’s voice was filled with surprise. “Sakuragi Hanamichi’s first appearance is clearly not yet adjusted to the rhythm; consecutive turnovers have given Daiei a chance to fight back!”
Sakuragi’s ankles felt a bit numb. He gritted his teeth and stood firm, hearing Hei Huang say beside him: “Rookies should stay on the bench.”
These words pierced him like needles—he remembered his proud declaration of “a genius doesn’t need to warm up to enter the game,” and his face was so hot it could fry an egg.
During Ryonan's offense, Sendoh suddenly passed the ball into his hands. “Here, pass it to me.” Sendoh winked at him, deliberately retreating beyond the three-point line.
Sakuragi held the ball, his hands trembling—Hei Huang’s shadow was right beside him, his mind a blank. He actually threw the ball in Uozumi’s direction.
“It’s off!” Uozumi reached out to grab it but couldn’t reach it.
The moment the basketball rolled out of bounds, Sakuragi’s shoulders slumped.
The timer next to the scoreboard showed 1 minute and 40 seconds left in the first half, and the point difference had already shrunk to 15 points.
“Sakuragi! Look at me!” Gu Jin suddenly shouted from the bench, “Think about the box-out drills from yesterday! Don’t worry about the ball, just push him out first!”
Sakuragi sharply looked up.
