Murasame Kengo's Anger (2)

In the 98th game, the two were one in front of the other, yet neither of them had noticed when the other had passed the ball.

In the stands, Fujima Kenji narrowed his eyes slightly, his fingertips unconsciously tapping the armrest of his seat, though the rhythm was a little slower than before.

As he watched that red-haired figure on the court, the inexplicable unease in his heart spread quietly like the dampness before a storm, growing thicker and thicker.

But when all was said and done, Chi Tong's actions just now—stealing the ball, faking a drive before making a real pass, then assisting a three-pointer—had been exquisite, but they had not exceeded the scope of an outstanding point guard.

His passes were well concealed, and his control over the tempo was proper. That was all.

Had it been a flash of inspiration, or had it been premeditated?

Fujima hesitated inwardly.

He could do the same, and Shoyo's tactical system had similar combinations, so he still could not determine whether this first-year student was truly as monstrous as the rumors claimed.

Toru Hanayuki adjusted his glasses, their lenses reflecting a cold glint, his tone carrying a trace of surprise.

That pass had been timed perfectly.

Was it a coincidence?

But he immediately shook his head, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

Still, that was all. A gap had appeared in the double-team, and his teammate had seized the opportunity. It was nothing especially remarkable.

He remained composed.

In his view, Chi Tong's performance had been eye-catching, but it had not yet reached the point of overturning his understanding. He was worth taking seriously, but not enough to make Shoyo wary.

What he did not know was just how dismissive he was at that moment.

When he later saw Chi