The scoreboard still reads 2–2, but it's meaningless now.
This isn't a contest of points.
It's a war of nerves, of ego, of control.
And the first cracks are already forming.
Rakuzan doesn't slow down—not for a second.
As soon as the ball is inbounded, they charge in transition, like a wave set to crash.
Tsukasa takes the outlet and launches a laser pass cross-court—long, clean, deadly.
Reiji's already there, like he knew it before it left Tsukasa's hands.
But he's not alone.
Asahi is already curling into the wing beside him, like a second shadow.
And right behind—Taiga and Aizawa—locked in, eyes sharp, ready to cut them off.
But Rakuzan doesn't flinch.
They flow.
Reiji catches. Drops it to Asahi. The two of them slide into a pick-and-roll so smooth it's like the ball vanishes between their hands.
The court gasps.
Reiji peels off the screen, snaking baseline.
Asahi pivots, body shielding, timing perfect.
He threads the pass.
Reiji catches on the move.
