As Rukawa Kaede moved, Nango shadowed him closely, deliberately keeping half a step behind. But he wasn't aiming for a flashy steal. His plan was simpler—force Rukawa into constant physical contact, dragging down his shooting percentage with sheer pressure.
Rukawa charged all the way to the free-throw line, only to find Nango right in his path. Whatever move he tried, he would have to collide with the bigger man.
Twenty-one points. Seven threes at minimum to end this game. No way he makes that many straight over me, Nango thought calmly.
As expected, Rukawa was clearly uncomfortable with this kind of defense. Against Nango—an entire size larger, stronger, heavier—attacking felt like running into a wall.
"This is bad. He's stuck in a no-man's land. Not enough room to shake him off, not enough space to shoot cleanly. He'll have to force something," Mitsui analyzed from the sideline, his sharp eyes reading the play like a commentator.
Rukawa lowered his shoulder, bumping into Nango's chest to carve out just a sliver of space before rising for a jumper.
But Nango didn't budge. He leapt with him, hand raised high, smothering the shot.
Clang! The ball missed. Nango immediately seized the rebound and transitioned into offense.
Mitsui shook his head. "Too much power… Rukawa's at a huge disadvantage. Head-on, he can't win. And Nango's speed isn't slow either."
Miyagi exhaled deeply, remembering his own one-on-one with Nango. "Exactly. In this matchup, the physically superior player has all the leverage. And Nango's not just some lumbering big guy."
Damn it… Is the gap really this big? For the first time, Rukawa found himself facing an opponent he couldn't solve. No edge in size, strength, speed, or agility—nothing. He could only watch Nango take control.
At the same time, Nango's eyes sharpened. He finally understood—going all out was the greatest respect he could give Rukawa.
Miyagi felt a chill. "Is… is Nango finally getting serious?"
"What? Now he's serious?!" The benchwarmers were stunned. If that earlier domination wasn't serious, then what would happen now?
With the ball in hand, Nango didn't bother with fakes. He drove hard to the right. Rukawa matched his steps, but when their bodies clashed, Rukawa was knocked backward while Nango barely slowed down. He powered through the lane and hammered down a merciless one-handed dunk.
Next possession: a step-back midrange. Splash.
Then, when Rukawa sagged just a step too far—Nango calmly rose and drained a three.
Shot after shot fell. Rukawa's defense couldn't keep up. The game became one-sided, leaving everyone speechless.
Nango kept attacking—pull-up jumper, midrange fade, drive and finish. No matter how hard Rukawa resisted, he couldn't stop it.
"Akagi, shouldn't you… stop them?" Kogure asked nervously.
Akagi stayed silent, at a loss.
"Rukawa…" Haruko bit her lip. She wanted to step in, to beg them to stop, but the sight of Rukawa's eyes froze her. He hadn't given up. If anything, his focus had only sharpened.
Every time Nango scored, Rukawa silently retrieved the ball, passed it back, and stood ready again—unyielding.
His persistence impressed Nango. Seeing that, he abandoned all restraint. He unleashed everything.
When the game finally ended, the scoreboard read 21–0.
The gym fell silent. Not even Nango himself expected to shut out Rukawa.
Rukawa said nothing. He simply picked up a ball and walked to the other half-court to continue practicing alone.
"Stupid fox… Is the gap really that wide?" For once, Sakuragi didn't gloat. The sight made him feel heavy, even angry.
Miyagi shook his head. "It's not that simple. Nango's touch was just red-hot today. And one-on-one isn't the same as a real game. This doesn't prove everything."
Still, no one could deny it—Nango had pulled far ahead.
Akagi frowned, muttering, "What's the point of this reckless one-on-one? Foolish."
"Nango, weren't you a little harsh?" Mitsui asked cautiously.
Nango shook his head. "Senior, if I held back, it'd be disrespectful. Don't worry—he's not that fragile." He gave Rukawa a lingering glance before returning to practice.
The gym's atmosphere grew stiff, heavy with unspoken tension.
Akagi cleared his throat, trying to break it. "Ahem. There's still more than a month until Nationals. To stay sharp, we'll be having a practice game against Ryokufu High. The date will be announced soon."
"Ryokufu High?" Mitsui frowned, trying to recall.
Miyagi snapped his fingers. "That's right. Kimura-kun transferred there."
Akagi nodded. "Exactly. Nango and I arranged it. Their team's strength is supposed to be excellent." He glanced at Nango. "Why don't you explain?"
Understanding the lifeline Akagi tossed him, Nango stepped forward confidently. "Yes. It's Kano's school. Their club is new, but they've recruited top talents from all over Japan. Think of them as a mercenary squad."
His tone rose as he added, "And their ace? A Japanese-American who just returned from the U.S. Word is, the NBA is already watching him."
Rukawa's ears twitched. Interest flickered in his eyes.
"What?! NBA?!"
"Their ace is that good?!" Shock rippled through the team.
"N–NBA? What's that?" Sakuragi tilted his head, clueless.
"Idiot! That's the mecca of basketball! The highest level in the world!" Miyagi barked.
Nango continued calmly, "They're aiming for this year's Winter Tournament. Facing them now will help us learn and prepare." His eyes swept the team, daring them. "So… gentlemen, are you ready for this battle?"
"Hmph! I don't care if it's the NBA or the NBB, I, Sakuragi Hanamichi, will crush them!" Sakuragi declared proudly.
"Idiot, it's NBA," Mitsui corrected with a laugh. "Still, if they're that strong, it'll be worth seeing."
Akagi nodded firmly. "Good. If we're aiming to dominate the nation, we can't back down from challenges. Let's face them head-on!"
Nango smiled slyly, thinking to himself, Perfect. The fish have taken the bait.
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