Yet the situation had not changed much. Kanagawa still held a lead of several points. He could not work out the reason for the moment, so he set his doubts aside and focused on the offense and defense unfolding before him.
One person, however, had sensed something more troubling than mere confusion in those repeated blocks and passes: Kawata Masashi.
Kawata Masashi stood beneath his own basket, knees slightly bent and arms hanging naturally at his sides. His expression remained composed and stern, his sharp eyes scanning the frontcourt without betraying the slightest disturbance.
To everyone else, he was still Akita's iron wall, controlling the paint and blocking shots with ease, as though stopping Sakuragi Hanamichi's attacks over and over had required no more than a flick of his hand.
Only he knew that the steadily beating heart in his chest was now tangled in countless doubts.
At first, he had thought Sakuragi Hanamichi's reckless, utterly unstructured drives would be easy enough to handle.
Every time Sakuragi Hanamichi jumped, he could predict his trajectory precisely and raise a hand to block him without much effort. He even had enough energy left to mock him for overestimating himself.
Back then, he had never suspected anything unusual behind it. He had simply assumed Sakuragi Hanamichi was too foolish.
Chi Tong occasionally made poor decisions, but as the game progressed and those same exchanges played out again and again, Kawata gradually began to sense that something was wrong.
At first, that subtle change had been as faint as mist, but the longer it continued, the more clearly he could feel it.
Blocking Sakuragi Hanamichi seemed to be getting harder without him even noticing. He instinctively flexed his wrist. The sensation of blocking Sakuragi's last dunk still lingered in his palm. He had distinctly