"Even the double-team doesn't work? Then what are we supposed to do?"
Coach Domoto bit his upper lip, his gaze locked onto Nango as worry crept into his eyes.
Hyuga Yuichi lazily chewed his gum, a relaxed smile on his face. "Man-to-man, full-court press, double-team, trap defense—none of it works. What other tricks does Sannoh have left?"
"It's useless," Coach Kawasaki shook his head. "No matter how Sannoh defends Nango, the price will be enormous. Besides, this isn't a middle school game where you win just by locking down one player. Domoto needs a different solution."
Endo lowered his voice. "The problem is… what can they do?"
"Cut off the connection between Nango and the others?" Kiyota repeated Coach Takato's earlier words.
"Exactly." Coach Takato nodded. "Basketball is a five-man game. Since Nango can't be contained, you sever his connection with the rest of the team and rely on overall strength to overwhelm Shohoku."
Maki remained silent, a sense of unease lingering in his heart.
But even if they do that… can Sannoh really suppress Shohoku? I'm afraid it won't be that simple.
On the court, Fukatsu didn't have the luxury to dwell on defense. His eyes constantly swept across his teammates, reading their movements, waiting for the perfect passing lane.
Little Kawata faithfully executed the tactical adjustment. Once he entered the three-point line, he focused entirely on setting screens. With his tall frame acting as a solid barrier, Sawakita easily shook off Rukawa Kaede's pursuit.
The moment the opening appeared, Fukatsu shifted his feet and delivered the pass. The timing was flawless—when the ball arrived, Sawakita was already in position.
He rose calmly and released the shot right in front of Akagi.
Swish.
Clean. Simple. Efficient.
Nango stood with his hands on his hips, a slight frown forming. The momentum was shifting. Sannoh's offense was waking up—streamlined, decisive, and increasingly dangerous.
Especially Fukatsu.
First a three-pointer. Now an assist.
Should we switch back to normal defense?
He turned his head and met Mitsui's gaze. The two exchanged a look—no words needed.
Shut down Fukatsu. Don't let him control the game.
Decision made.
Nango brought the ball across half court. Fukatsu resumed his previous stance, once again subtly guiding him toward the left.
Nango showed no hesitation. A quick between-the-legs dribble, a burst of speed—and he blew past Fukatsu. At the same time, he shot Sakuragi a subtle glance.
In the blink of an eye, Nango was in front of Kawata.
Behind them, Sakuragi slipped into position.
Seeing the opening, Nango bent low and accelerated again, shaking off Kawata and charging straight toward the rim.
"Bang!"
Kawata turned to chase—only to slam into Sakuragi's solid screen. Both stumbled back half a step. Fukatsu, trying to recover, was blocked as well.
Now only Little Kawata stood between Nango and the basket.
The moment he saw Nango driving in, panic flashed across his face. His lower back still throbbed faintly.
"Kawata!" Big Kawata roared. "You idiot! Stop him!"
In Little Kawata's world, heaven and earth might be vast—but big brother was absolute.
Gritting his teeth, he stepped up.
Nango smiled faintly.
At the last moment, he showed mercy.
Instead of attacking, he slipped the ball past Little Kawata to Akagi.
Boom!
Akagi powered up and slammed it down with authority.
After the score, Fukatsu and Kawata exchanged a glance.
"Mikio?" Fukatsu asked quietly.
Years of familiarity made Kawata understand instantly. "Most likely."
They both knew—Shohoku was deliberately targeting Little Kawata.
Nango had seen it the moment Little Kawata checked in. He'd wanted to isolate him endlessly with pick-and-rolls, but Domoto's decision to keep Little Kawata anchored in the paint had shut that plan down.
But after Sakuragi's offensive rebound exposed Little Kawata's sluggish recovery, Nango adjusted.
Attack the basket.
Relentlessly.
Two straight possessions—one for Sakuragi, one for Akagi—were enough to confirm it.
Even if the shot missed, Shohoku had the edge on offensive rebounds. Little Kawata alone simply couldn't protect Sannoh's restricted area.
Ironically, this was also thanks to Fukatsu and Kawata's trap defense. Their rotations freed up Sakuragi's movement. As long as Sannoh kept defending this way, Nango would keep driving.
As Fukatsu dribbled toward midcourt, he saw Nango charging straight at him.
His expression darkened.
Without hesitation, he swung the ball to Matsumoto on the right and deliberately dragged Nango toward the left sideline.
Coach Domoto's words echoed in his mind.
He didn't need to outduel Nango.
That wasn't his role.
His job was to win.
Once near the sideline, Fukatsu didn't stand idle. He pointed, called out, and directed traffic—guiding his teammates like a maestro conducting an orchestra.
Once again, Sawakita curled around Little Kawata's screen, arriving near the free-throw line. Matsumoto delivered the pass instantly.
This time, Sawakita didn't shoot.
He put the ball on the floor and drove straight at the basket.
Akagi and Sakuragi converged.
Sawakita didn't hesitate.
He kicked the ball inside.
Kawata caught it cleanly and banked it in.
Score.
Kawata spun around and rushed toward Sawakita, grabbing him by the head and yelling into his ear, "Great pass!"
"Hey—let go!" Sawakita struggled in disgust, but it was useless. He was completely overpowered.
"Well done." Fukatsu stepped in to rescue him. He bumped fists with Kawata, then extended his fist toward Sawakita.
Sawakita grinned and bumped it back. "Let's take the lead back—fast."
Unspoken words burned in his heart.
Only then can my hunt truly begin.
He still wanted his showdown with Nango and Rukawa—but until Sannoh secured control of the game, Fukatsu would never allow it.
Fukatsu glanced back at Shohoku, then smiled faintly.
"Of course," he said. "Our counterattack has begun."
Under the basket, Akagi picked up the ball and muttered, "So… this is the true strength of the strongest Sannoh."
Mitsui's ears twitched. He rolled his eyes. "Seriously, were they sleepwalking in the first half? How did they suddenly become so coordinated?"
"They are three-time champions," Nango said calmly with a smile. "And they've played together for years. This is normal."
Then he added lightly, "But offensively, we're not inferior either, right?"
"That's right!" Sakuragi jumped out immediately. "What's there to be afraid of? Nango, just pass me the ball!"
Rukawa said nothing—but he rolled his wrist and stared at Nango with a sharp, unwavering gaze.
Stop talking. Let's play.
Nango laughed and turned toward Akagi. "Captain, what do you think?"
Before Akagi could answer, Mitsui cut in. "If you're scared, just give me the captain's armband."
Akagi clenched his fist, barely restraining himself. "Idiot! I don't need you reminding me! Did you forget what Coach Anzai said?"
"We are strong!"
Mitsui snorted. "Then let's go."
"Roar!"