Those inside the game were often confused, while those watching from the outside saw everything clearly.
Coach Anzai, seated on the bench, understood better than anyone—Nango couldn't keep playing like this.
But Shohoku had no other choice.
In a match of this intensity, Shohoku effectively had only six players who could take the floor. Aside from the five currently playing, only Miyagi could replace Nango.
Yet if Miyagi checked in, Sannoh would immediately unleash their signature full-court press, cutting off Shohoku's ability to organize an offense.
And once that happened, Nango would be forced back onto the court after only a brief rest—handing the initiative away for nothing.
Coach Anzai would never make such a trade.
So for now, all he could do was place his hopes in the players themselves.
Nango advanced slowly with the ball. The repeated half-court sprints had drained his stamina. He could still endure until the final buzzer—but his efficiency would inevitably decline.
Fukatsu saw this clearly.
Switching back to tight, face-to-face defense, he seized an opening and reached in to steal, deliberately testing Nango's condition.
Nango immediately turned his body sideways, shielding the ball behind him—but that was all he could do. His legs refused to explode forward.
That was close… Did he notice already?
Looks like I really can't keep this up without rest.
The easiest way to conserve energy was simple—pass the ball and step aside.
Nango's gaze instinctively landed on Rukawa Kaede.
His hesitation lasted only a moment. Facing Sawakita was dangerous—too similar to how things unfolded in the original story.
But then he smiled faintly.
Wasn't that outcome… pretty good?
And after our earlier talk, maybe his evolution will come sooner. Stronger. More complete.
Decision made.
Nango thrust his arm forward, signaling his teammates to clear out.
"Rukawa," he called. "It's up to you now. Let me rest a bit longer."
"They're finally facing each other…"
In the stands, Moroboshi watched with mixed emotions. "Rukawa Kaede… now you'll understand the gap between you and Japan's best."
No matter how grand this stage was—it had nothing to do with him.
I didn't expect it to come like this.
The moment Rukawa Kaede received the ball, his presence changed.
Sawakita felt it immediately.
He licked his lips lightly.
Now this is interesting.
Locking eyes with Rukawa, Sawakita sneered. "Pull-up jumper or drive? I bet you choose the pull-up."
Rukawa ignored him completely.
He dribbled slowly, calmly, feeling out the rhythm.
Cross.
Shift.
Cross again.
Then—acceleration.
He drove straight down the middle.
Sawakita's eyes gleamed.
Just as I thought.
After such a long battle, both understood—Sawakita held the speed advantage. In one-on-one situations, that mattered.
If the drive stalled, it would turn into a deadlock.
A pull-up jumper was the optimal choice.
"I knew it," Sawakita grinned. "Smart move, rookie."
He prepared to greet Rukawa in midair.
As they reached the free-throw line, Rukawa suddenly stopped.
Toes planted.
Ball gathered.
Elbow rising.
Now!
Sawakita exploded upward, left arm across his chest, right hand cocked back like a spiker ready to crush the net.
But—
The ball never left Rukawa's hand.
Mid-jump, Rukawa killed his upward motion. His heels returned to the floor, his body slipping cleanly past Sawakita's airborne frame.
Then—
A light hop.
A smooth release.
"Swish!"
The net rippled softly.
For a split second, the arena froze—
Then erupted.
The fan club's cheers surged anew.
"Rukawa Kaede! I love you—!"
"Tsk, tsk," Coach Kawasaki exclaimed. "None of Shohoku's freshmen are timid. Anzai truly struck gold."
Hyuga Yuichi smiled. "If you like them, we can take all three to Nittaidai."
Endo laughed. "Give them three years—build a college team around them."
Coach Kawasaki was delighted. "That's exactly what I've been planning!"
At the commentary table, Fujiwara leaned back, savoring the moment.
"That fake was exquisite. He fooled Sawakita—and fooled me. I was certain it'd be a block, but instead—pure artistry. That shot was brilliant."
"Hmph!" Sakuragi snorted. "Japan's best? Getting tricked by that Stinky Fox? What an idiot!"
Sawakita's jaw clenched. "You embarrassed me."
He shoved Rukawa aside and snarled, "You're dead, kid."
Rukawa met his glare coldly. "You think I'd just let you block me?"
As the two clashed verbally, Matsumoto hesitated, glancing at Fukatsu.
Do we give him the ball?
If Sawakita didn't answer immediately, Shohoku's momentum would only grow.
There was no real choice.
Fukatsu pondered briefly—then nodded firmly.
The moment Sawakita caught the ball, he shifted into face-up offense.
No wasted movements.
Dribble.
Burst.
Though his first step was explosive, Rukawa was ready. He turned instantly and stayed attached.
Sawakita wasn't bothered.
Good.
Only then will you understand.
At the free-throw line, Sawakita rose—leaning slightly backward.
Ichinokura frowned. "He hasn't completely shaken him off…"
Nobe laughed. "So what? This is Sawakita."
Even as Rukawa leapt to contest, Sawakita's form never wavered.
Smooth.
Balanced.
Perfect.
The ball arced just beyond Rukawa's fingertips—
—and dropped cleanly through the net.
Fujiwara slammed the table, gripping the mic.
"Answer shot! Sawakita responds with his signature pull-up fadeaway! Another masterpiece! This game is unbelievable!"
"Rukawa!" Nango shouted from behind. "It's all on you—don't lose!"
In his heart, Nango agreed completely.
If I could, I'd sit out there with popcorn and just watch…
But no chance. I still have to bring the ball up.
From the stands, Moroboshi bit his finger, eyes dark.
"Don't relax… Sawakita is like a leopard. Once he locks on, his offense and defense only grow fiercer."