First Quarter
From the opening tip, Juuichi Mikazuki treated the center circle like a tatami mat. He didn’t jump so much as loom. Across from him, Dean Orson countered with survivalist grit, but this wasn’t the mansion. Juuichi easily won the tip. The ball went to Eyvind, who immediately sprinted coast-to-coast like he’d spotted a treasure chest under the basket. Layup. Two points. Resnick followed with a fast-break dunk that rattled the rim and half the emotional stability of Team Chair bench. There was visible demonic influence in his playing style: impressive vertical, twitching muscles, and a questionable outline on his gym shorts.
Meanwhile, Shin Kuroi barely moved and contributed in the only way he truly respects: wits. He pointed. He calculated passing lanes like a chess engine trapped in a frail body. On the other side, his fellow Morenatsu LI Torahiko Ooshima swam through defenders with aquatic grace, but got distracted waving at Hiroyuki in Team Shed tunnel and struggled to score.
End of Q1: TEAM SHED 28 – TEAM CHAIR 16. On the break, the referees noticed two players were missing in the lineups: Volga from Team Shed and Ralph from Team Chair. They were later found hours after the game had ended in the janitor's closet, with the labrador force-feeding the husky his famous Snowboar sandwiches.
Second Quarter
Team Shed continued dominating as Coach Kuugo paced the sidelines plotting psychological warfare. Subtle nods. Cryptic smiles. Half-closed eyes. Somehow everyone on Team Shed felt mildly manipulated and oddly motivated. Prompted by these persuasive techniques, Ken entered the from the bench riding his bike and promptly bullied the paint with his driving skills, showcasing post moves like tectonic plates shifting.
Team Chair's only hope came from Leo Alvarez, who channeled ex-footballer aggression and Echo insanity into hard drives. He barreled through contact for an and-one, howling toward the stands, though whether at Chase or destiny was unclear. Meanwhile, Marco was proving himself to be dead weight, touching the ball exactly twice in the whole quarter. From the bench, Coach Amicus shouted encouragement at the human while suspiciously eyeing a cunning black jackal in the audience...
Halftime: TEAM SHED 52 – TEAM CHAIR 34. Perhaps for the first time in their lives, Team Chair knew how it felt to be the one to be screwed.
Third Quarter
In the third quarter, something shifted.
Perhaps it was destiny. Perhaps it was genre awareness. Perhaps it was simply narrative necessity.
On Team Chair bench, Shoichi Urata blinked.
He had realized something profound: I am from a sports VN.
He stood up. He pointed at Marco. He pointed at the court. Then he stared directly at Amicus with the intensity of a Siberian Husky who has discovered free will. Amicus, after a brief meltdown, subbed him in.
The effect was immediate. Shoichi’s first possession: catch, pivot, release. Three. Next possession: step-back beyond the arc. Three. Then another.
Team Shed's comfortable lead began to sweat. Even Zegha, subbed in for fresh legs, got distracted mid-closeout by Shoichi’s glistening athleticism. The husky ended up hitting five threes in the quarter.
End of Q3: TEAM SHED 72 – TEAM CHAIR 69. The curse of two bearfailures in Team Shed's starting five stirred. The audience held its breath.
Fourth Quarter
What happened next will live in /fvn/ infamy.
Midway through the quarter, Torahiko backed down Juuichi in the post. Smirking. Tail swishing.
Then he lowered his shorts and showed the bear his penis. His unpeeled foreskin glistened in the arena lights. The mandatory Japanese censor bar sucked in the audience's gasps like a black hole.
The tiger's words were but a whisper, yet they reverberated throughout the arena:
"You're gay, aren't you, Juuichi-san?”
The bear froze. His fur puffed up. His eye twitched. His mouth opened to an ear-shattering roar. Then, like a flash of lightning, he performed a judo hip throw so clean, so technically beautiful, that somewhere Ten-sama wept with pride. Torahiko hit the floor horizontally with a painful meow.
The whistle screamed. Flagrant foul. Immediate ejection.
Because the foul occurred during a three-point attempt, Torahiko was awarded three uncontested free throws. He stepped to the line. Looked up. Spotted Hiroyuki in Team Shed tunnel loitering around, hands in his pockets, waiting for Juuichi to enter Team Shed locker room.
The tiger winked.
“These are for you, baby.”
Miss.
Second shot. Deep breath. Wink again.
Miss.
Third shot. Full theatrical pause.
Miss.
In Team Chair bench, Finn buried his face in his hands.
From there, Team Shed regained composure. Eyvind drove fearlessly. Resnick snagged rebounds with demonic ferocity. Tharsix sealed the paint like a Kornelian gate. Back in Team Chair, Shoichi kept firing valiantly, but the gap had reopened. Leo fouled out after one too many emotionally charged drives. Teak nearly picked a fight with the backboard. Dean was nowhere to be seen, and Torahiko spent the rest of the game curled up in a fetal position below Team Shed's basket.
Final buzzer.
TEAM SHED 95 – TEAM CHAIR 82
The crowd went wild. Confetti was thrown into the air. Queen's "We Are the Champions" blasted from the speakers. Coach Amicus left the arena with Neferu in shame while Team Chair players, as per their nature, sat down defeated and despondently looked on at their opponents' jubilation. Coach Kuugo made love to the winning trophy without asking for its consent first. Team Shed players let a collective sigh of relief: They had been the pounded, but now they had done the pounding.