Slam Dunk: My physical abilities can be increased indefinitely.

Chapter 23: Stalemate, neither side willing to give an inch.

Before the start of the second half, Sendoh stood in the players' tunnel for a while.

The light at the end of the corridor was very bright, making the intersection of the red and white lines on the floor exceptionally clear. He stared at the line for a few seconds, then heard footsteps behind him.

"What are you looking at?" Yueye walked over, holding a towel in his hand, his neck covered in sweat, and his collar was soaked.

"Look at that line."

"What's so interesting about lines?"

"The middle line, past that is their half of the court."

Yueye followed his gaze for a second, then said, "Can you stop talking so mysteriously? What do you mean 'they're in the other half'? Weren't we constantly moving forward in the first half?"

"The first half is over and then back, but the second half is over and then it's gone forever."

Yueye opened his mouth, then swallowed back "What are you talking about?" because he felt that Sendoh probably didn't know what he was saying either, he just wanted to say something. Sometimes people need to say some nonsense before a competition. What you say doesn't matter, just say it.

The referee blew the whistle.

At the start of the third quarter, Maki dribbled the ball to the frontcourt, where Sendoh defended, positioned slightly to the right, leaving the left flank open – the same strategy as in the last two minutes of the first half.

Shinichi Maki went down the left flank. This time, he didn't hesitate and accelerated straight in. Koshino came to double-team him from the weak side. This time, Maki didn't pass the ball. He jumped before Koshino could get into position. It wasn't a layup but a floater. The ball flew over Koshino's head with a high arc. When it landed, it grazed the backboard and bounced into the basket.

After landing, Maki Shinichi glanced at Sendoh. His gaze was different from the first half; it wasn't fierce, but calm—the kind of calm that said, "I know what you're going to do, but you still can't stop me."

Sendoh didn't reply and ran towards the front.

Ueshima dribbled past half-court and Sendoh called for the ball at the top of the arc. Maki Shinichi defended him, changing his position again—not too far forward, not too far back, just right in the middle. Sendoh dribbled with his right hand and took a step to the right, but Maki Shinichi didn't move. Sendoh suddenly stopped and switched hands to the left, but Maki Shinichi still didn't move. Sendoh accelerated and drove straight through, and Maki Shinichi only moved at this moment, right next to Sendoh's body, giving him no space to accelerate or shoot.

The two were like glued together; wherever Sendoh went, Maki followed, even their pace was almost identical.

Sendoh suddenly stopped and jumped at the free-throw line. Maki also jumped, blocking the ball with his palm. Sendoh switched the ball from his right hand to his left hand, made a layup in the air, leaned his body to the left to avoid Maki's block, and pushed the ball out just before his body landed.

The ball bounced once on the rim, twice, three times, and then fell in.

There was a moment of silence in the stands, then a burst of shouts erupted.

When Sendoh landed, he lost his balance, his knees bent, and his hands braced on the floor. The system panel flashed at the edge of his vision: Endurance B+, currently more than half depleted. He ignored it, stood up, and clapped his hands.

Shinichi Maki stood beside him watching. "Your lever isn't strong enough in your wrist. If it were two centimeters lower, it wouldn't spring in."

"But they went inside."

"luck."

"Luck is also a part of strength."

Maki Shinichi didn't say anything more.

The rhythm of the third quarter was completely different from the first half. In the first half, the two players were testing each other, scoring one goal after another, and the pace wasn't fast. The second half turned into a grueling battle. Neither of them tested each other anymore, and every round was a head-on collision. Sendoh would accelerate, and Maki would close in; Sendoh would change direction, and Maki would follow; Sendoh would jump, and Maki would block him.

Sendoh has to put in twice as much effort to score as he did in the first half, and he has to perfect every move in order to find space to shoot.

When Maki Shinichi attacked, Sendoh no longer let him receive the ball easily. He would go around him to defend, reach out to interfere, use his body to push against Maki's waist, and use his knee to push against Maki's thigh.

Every time he received the ball, he had to entangle with Sendoh for a few seconds first, and after receiving the ball, he also had to face help defense. His movements were more forceful, more ruthless, and more tiring than usual.

Sweat began to drip from both of them, large drops falling from their chins to the floor. Sendoh's jersey was soaked through in the front and back, clinging to his body and feeling heavy. Maki's wristbands were also soaked with sweat, turning from black to dark gray.

With four minutes left in the third quarter, Sendoh did something he hadn't done in the entire first half: he actively sought contact on the defensive end.

Shinichi Maki called for the ball in the low post. Instead of going around him, Sendoh came up from behind, his chest pressed against Maki's back, and his hands stretched out to interfere with Maki's receiving route.

Shinichi Maki pushed forward, but Sendoh didn't retreat. Maki pushed again, and Sendoh took a small step back, but immediately pushed back. Maki turned around to try to break through, but Sendoh slid in and followed. The two men's shoulders collided, and the sound of their muscles colliding was muffled.

The whistle blew.

The referee signaled that Sendoh had committed a defensive foul.

Sendoh raised his hand, turned around and walked away.

Shinichi Maki stood at the free-throw line, received the ball from the referee, dribbled it twice, and made the first and second free throws.

Maki Shinichi's expression didn't change at all when he took the free throw, just like when he was taking a regular mid-range shot. His wrist was very steady and his fingers moved very gently.

Sendoh glanced at him, then turned and ran towards the front.

Ryonan is on offense. Sendoh receives the ball at the top of the arc. This time, he doesn't dribble. He pulls up for a jump shot, not a three-pointer, but a long two-pointer, with his feet on the three-point line.

When Maki Shinichi lunged forward, he was a fraction of a second too slow. His fingers barely touched the air, and the ball flew from Sendoh's fingertips in a straight arc, hitting the back edge of the rim and bouncing before falling in.

After landing, Maki Shinichi looked at Sendoh, his breathing heavy and his chest heaving.

Sendoh looked at him, his breathing becoming heavier.

The two men stood outside the three-point line and stared at each other for a second, neither of them saying a word.

In the last two minutes of the third quarter, Maki drew fouls on two drives, going to the free-throw line four times and making three of them. Sendoh scored a layup on one drive and assisted Uozumi for a layup off the backboard.

The whistle blew to end the third quarter.

The score is 54-54, it's a tie.

The number on the scoreboard was glaringly bright under the lights. Sendoh glanced at it and looked away, then lowered his head and walked toward the bench.

Yueye followed behind without saying a word, because he was too tired to speak. Today, he was facing Kiyota Nobunaga, who was running the whole time. Yueye was running along with him the whole time, and his legs felt as heavy as lead. With every step, he could feel his muscles going weak and trembling.

Uozumi sat on the bench and gulped down half a bottle of water. Water spilled from the corner of his mouth, ran down his chin and onto his neck, and he wiped it off with his arm before putting the bottle down.

Taoka crouched down and looked at Sendoh. "How much energy do you have left?"

Sendoh took a few breaths, "Enough for a round."

"Is 'enough to play one quarter' just 'enough to play one quarter,' or 'Do you think you can play one quarter'?"

"Enough for a quarter, I'm sure."

Taoka stared at him for two seconds, then closed the tactical board in his hand.

"Then let's play one quarter. Uekusa, when you have the ball, run the clock. Use the full 24 seconds on every offensive possession. Koshino, you don't need to run as much anymore. Let Kiyota Nobunaga run if he wants. If you can't keep up, then don't. Hold your position. Fukuda, start playing inside now. Don't shoot from outside. Go to the basket. Even if you miss, draw fouls. Uozumi, you grab the rebounds."

All four nodded at the same time.

The referee whistle blows.

The fourth quarter begins.