Let's pause and return.
Jousei scored a goal in the attack.
9:4.
Shohoku launches an attack.
Kawamoto once again called for the ball in the low post.
Mikoshiba clung to him like a mad dog, using both hands and feet.
Kawamoto received the ball, but this time he didn't attack immediately. Instead, he dribbled the ball and leaned to the side.
Then, suddenly using his left foot as a pivot, he stepped out with his right foot, as if to turn and break through towards the baseline.
Mikoshiba immediately blocked the baseline.
However, Kawamoto's right foot, which he had just stepped out, was merely a feint, and he instantly retracted it.
At the same time, he quickly turned his body to the other side, and with another smooth turn, he once again got past Mikoshiba and drove into the basket.
Two players rushed in to block Jousei's shot.
In mid-air, Kawamoto pulled back at the last second to evade the cover.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the ball high into the air through the gap between the two players, heading towards the backboard.
"Bang-whoosh!"
The shot went in!
It also drew a foul from the defender!
And one!
2+1!
Kawamoto up to the free-throw line and calmly sank the extra shot.
12:4.
Mikoshiba glanced at the scoreboard, then at number 15, who was making his defensive run and whose breathing hadn't even faltered.
A chilling sense of despair crept into his heart like a venomous snake.
Kawamoto received the ball again beyond the three-point line.
Mikoshiba lowered his waist, spread his arms, and stared at the enemy with bloodshot eyes.
Kawamoto didn't rush to attack this time. Instead, he dribbled with his left hand and turned his back to Mikoshiba.
"Um?"
Coach Jousei on the sidelines frowned.
Back-to-the-basket post-up?
In this location?
FIBA currently does not have a rule against a five-second violation when backing down a player.
Mikoshiba immediately lowered his center of gravity, spread his arms, and used all his strength to brace against Kawamoto's back and waist.
He gritted his teeth, his heart filled with malice. "Come on! Let me see your back!"
Kawamoto subconsciously withdrew a great deal of power.
It's a friendly match, so it shouldn't be too violent.
Even so, every time he hit her, Mikoshiba felt a tightness in his chest.
But Mikoshiba, with his tenacious will and relatively strong body, withstood the first and second blows.
"We held on!"
Mikoshiba was overjoyed.
Although its power is great, it is not invincible.
However, the third strike came down.
Mikoshiba grunted, involuntarily being pushed back a large step.
Kawamoto instantly turned around and faced the basket.
Mikoshiba startled, thinking that the opponent was about to break through or shoot, and hurriedly adjusted his center of gravity to pounce.
But Kawamoto was just faking it; he immediately turned back, continued with his back to the basket, and moved even deeper towards the free-throw line.
Damn it!
Mikoshiba cursed inwardly and quickly stuck it on again.
But this time, he sensed something was wrong.
The opponent is closer to the basket, and----
"Bang!"
"Bang!"
"Bang!"
The dull thuds of muscles colliding could be clearly heard in the quiet arena.
Mikoshiba's face flushed red, veins bulging. He used all his strength, even secretly bracing his arm against Kawamoto's waist.
But I still couldn't stop myself from sliding backward, step by step, irresistibly.
One step, two steps, three steps----
Kawamoto, like a bulldozer, relentlessly pushed Mikoshiba from the three-point line all the way to the edge of the paint.
Mikoshiba's feet were already on the edge of the penalty area.
"This—this power—"
Center Iwata was dumbfounded.
Mikoshiba is one of the team's strongest perimeter players.
He actually managed to get to the basket step by step using pure strength?
"Assist in defense!"
Coach Jousei was yelling from the sidelines.
Iwata, who was closest, immediately abandoned his defense against Akagi and rushed over to double-team him.
But just as Iwata lunged, Kawamoto moved.
He leaned back hard one last time, knocking Mikoshiba off balance and causing him to stagger backward.
At the same time, with a swift turn towards the baseline, he instantly bypassed the charging Mikoshiba Takahashi, who had been knocked away.
Then, facing an empty basket, he lightly jumped and put the ball into the basket with one hand.
"Whoosh."
Goal!
14:4.
The entire room fell silent.
This is a pure display of overwhelming power, a manifestation of absolute physical superiority.
It's like an adult hitting a child, telling you in the most direct way.
You can't handle me.
Mikoshiba slowly straightened up, watching Kawamoto's retreating figure, then looked down at her own arm, which was trembling slightly from exertion.
The series of back-to-back confrontations he had just experienced made him feel as if he were trying to stop a slowly moving tank.
All skills and experience seem so pale and laughable in the face of that unreasonable power.
His defense, which he was so proud of, was probably like a thin sheet of paper in the eyes of his opponents, easily pierced.
"It turns out—it's not just about technology—"
Mikoshiba muttered to himself, utterly dejected, "It's a difference in dimensions—"
Unable to defend----
No matter how you try to defend against it, you can't stop it.
The following matches became a personal showcase for Kawamoto Kazuki, and a nightmare for Mikoshiba and the entire Jousei team.
Pull-up jump shot.
Step-back three-pointer.
Leaning back with your back turned.
A throw-off after a change of direction and a breakout.
A steal, a fast break, and a powerful dunk.
He forced a pull-up jumper in the face of a double-team.
After making an off-ball movement, catch the ball and shoot.
Kawamoto is like an offensive kaleidoscope with an infinite arsenal.
From every corner of the court, use every possible method to put the basketball into the hoop.
Mikoshiba gave it his all, using every defensive technique he knew, even resorting to fouls.
But most of the time, he couldn't even disrupt the opponent's shot.
His opponent completely overwhelmed him in terms of speed, rhythm, power, feints, and shooting consistency.
No, they crushed everyone on the field.
Jousei's other teammates tried to help defend and double-team, but Kawamoto's passes were quick and accurate, always finding open teammates, or even completing the attack before the double-team could be formed.
With 15 minutes played in the first half, the score was 45-20.
Shohoku is leading by 25 points.
Kawamoto Kazuki's individual score has reached 38 points.
He almost single-handedly dismantled Jousei's entire defensive system.
Mikoshiba braced his hands on his knees, sweat dripping down his face like rain.
He was breathing heavily, his eyes were vacant, and his mind was blank.
He couldn't hear the coach's shouts, nor could he hear his teammates' calls.
In his world, all that remained was that red number 15 and the image of him sinking the ball time and time again.
Invincible.
Completely invincible.
An invincible force that is beyond comprehension, unattainable, and impossible to contend with.
What Shizuoka's top small forward, what national top eight ace?
Compared to this monster, I'm like a primary school student who's just learned to play ball.
For those five minutes in the afternoon, I could at least console myself with the excuse of being physically exhausted.
Now, with full energy and giving it their all, the result is an even more despairing crushing defeat.
It turns out he hadn't exerted any effort at all that afternoon.
So this is his true strength.
It turns out, the difference between him and me is the distance from Earth to Mars.
"Beep--!"
The whistle blowing at the end of the first half was a relief for Mikoshiba and Jousei's players.
They practically fled back to the locker room.
No one spoke, only heavy, weary breathing could be heard.
Mikoshiba's shoulders trembled slightly, uncontrollably.
It's not just exhaustion, it's the collapse of having my beliefs utterly shattered.
Akagi, Miyagi, Kogure felt no joy of victory, only profound shock.
They knew of Kawamoto Takeshi, but they didn't realize he was this powerful.
This is practically like a professional player playing in a high school league.
Kawamoto sat in the chair, quietly drinking water.
The high-intensity individual attacks in the first half did not seem to put much strain on him.
His breathing was steady, and there was only a fine layer of sweat on his forehead.
Akagi walked up to him, patted him on the shoulder, and seemed to want to say something, but didn't know where to begin.
Finally, he just sighed and said, "You can rest for the second half."
Kawamoto nodded.
He knew that his goal had been achieved.
This practice match had long lost its meaning for him.
National Competition...
I hope to find a true rival.
If not yet...
Then let's go to United States!
His mother gave him a reason why he had to go to the United States.
Flash Wind and the Hokage gave him the confidence to go to United States.
When the second half began, Jousei's players saw that Shohoku had substituted Kawamoto.
But there was no relief on their faces; instead, they seemed even more numb.
Even though that monster is gone, that terrifying 38-point performance in the first half has been etched deep into the souls of each of them like a brand.
They probably won't be able to escape the shadow cast by that number 15 for this game, or even this summer.
Only after witnessing true invincibility will you realize how laughable your past belief in strength was.