The day after the game, the sports section of the newspaper was dominated by stories about Meihou Industrial and their monstrous center, Morishige Hiroshi. Under his shadow, the results of other games barely seemed worth mentioning.
Shohoku's victory over Toyotama, along with other match results, was tucked away in a small box in the corner of the page.
Undoubtedly, "Hiroshi" had become a sensation—and quite a big one at that.
The newspapers used the flashiest headlines imaginable:
"A Once-in-a-Century Super Rookie — Morishige Hiroshi!"
"The Giant's Roar: Meihou Industrial's Godzilla!"
For Nango and the basketball fans of Kanagawa, this scene was all too familiar. However, there was one thing Nango never experienced—the media comparing him to a college basketball star, saying the new giant from Meihou might surpass him someday.
The article noted that even the college star had struggled during his first two years of high school and only rose to prominence in his third year—and even then, his statistics were nowhere near as terrifying as Morishige Hiroshi's.
Hearing this, Morishige Hiroshi, who had come to watch another game with Coach Tangze, protested indignantly,
"What the hell did I do to you guys? Why are you bringing me up?!"
Of course, all this excitement belonged to the media and fans. The teams still playing in the National Tournament had no time to dwell on headlines—they were too busy preparing for their next opponents.
That day, Shohoku was set to face Daiei Academy, Osaka's last remaining team in the tournament.
Having faced two Osaka teams in a row, Nango couldn't help but wonder—after today, would Shohoku be considered Osaka's natural enemy? After all, they were about to crush the region's final hope.
Before the game began, Nango noticed that Akagi's already dark complexion had developed an extra layer of exhaustion beneath his eyes. He guessed that Gorilla hadn't slept all night.
He was right—Akagi had been thinking about Morishige Hiroshi the entire time.
During the summer training camp, Shohoku had played three practice matches against Josei High School and won all of them. Akagi's performance in those games was solid on both ends of the court, and his stats reflected that.
But compared to Morishige Hiroshi's overwhelming triple-double, Akagi couldn't help but feel anxious.
Even if he had been given more offensive chances in those games, there was no way he'd have scored fifty points.
If Meihou Industrial—a so-called dark horse—was already that strong, then how powerful were the true kings and regulars of the National Tournament, like Sannoh Industrial or Hakata Shodai?
Was the path to becoming Japan's number one really this difficult?
Akagi, the senior among Shohoku's players, could only imagine.
"Captain? … Captain?"
Nango waved his hand in front of Akagi's face.
Akagi blinked out of his thoughts. "What's wrong?"
Nango smiled and patted his arm. "Captain, don't forget—we're a seeded team too. A game isn't decided by just one player."
A simple reminder, but it struck home. Akagi's eyes cleared as he exhaled deeply.
That's right. Shohoku didn't reach the Nationals by luck or connections. They earned it.
No matter how good Morishige Hiroshi was, he was still just one person. Why should he be afraid?
Akagi chuckled and said, "You're right. Let's get ready for the game."
Nango nodded. "Mhm."
He knew Akagi was fine now. Sometimes, the more you think alone, the deeper you sink into a rut. Having someone by your side to remind you of the obvious makes all the difference.
As for Morishige Hiroshi and Meihou Industrial, Nango wasn't too worried.
Even if the so-called "Fatty Sen" really bulldozed Shohoku's paint, Nango believed that they still wouldn't be the ones to win in the end.
While Shohoku was concerned about Meihou Industrial, Daiei Academy was equally anxious about Shohoku.
They knew very well that they couldn't dominate Toyotama on both offense and defense like Shohoku had.
That alone proved that Daiei's overall strength was inferior.
Realizing this, the entire Daiei squad spent the previous day nervously discussing strategies.
In the end, they decided on a plan: tighten their defense as much as possible and let their ace, Tsuchiya Atsushi, handle the offense freely. They could only hope he'd have a once-in-a-lifetime performance—something on the level of Morishige Hiroshi.
There weren't many spectators in the gym that day. Most people flocked to Meihou Industrial's game, eager to see how Morishige Hiroshi would wreak havoc in the paint again.
As Shohoku and Daiei gathered at center court, Shohoku quickly noticed something: Osaka really didn't have any big men.
Just like Toyotama, Daiei's tallest player—their center, Handa Go—stood at only 190 cm. The rest of the lineup was even shorter:
Power Forward: Tsuchiya Atsushi, 189 cm
Small Forward: Akio Kaneda, 185 cm
Shooting Guard: Hotta Ka, 182 cm
Point Guard: Mizui Koji, 175 cm
Handa glanced at Akagi, who stood across from him at center, and immediately made his decision—there was no point contesting the tip-off. Competing in a jump ball against someone who looked like a gorilla was suicide.
Sure enough, as soon as the referee tossed the ball, Handa simply turned and sprinted back on defense.
The entire Daiei team followed his lead, quickly setting up their half-court defense and conceding Shohoku the first offensive possession.
Their strategy was clear: don't let Shohoku get an early lead.
"Daiei Academy really learned from our match... Damn it! Why couldn't they have played Shohoku first?" Kishimoto grumbled in frustration.
Of course, who wouldn't be irritated? His own loss had become a blueprint for his rivals.
"That's only natural," Minami sighed. "No team that's made it this far wants to go home."
The Toyotama players around them understood all too well. They were already preparing to board the bus back to Osaka later that afternoon.
Quietly, they all wished Daiei would be joining them on that same ride home.
Back on the court, Nango searched for an opening in Daiei's defense, silently admiring their discipline.
"Daiei Academy really is a half-court defensive team," he thought. "Their positioning is nearly perfect."
Unlike most teams that relied on man-to-man defense, Daiei played a 3–2 zone, also known as a 1–2–2 formation.
It was designed to pressure the perimeter—cutting off passes and disrupting mid-to-long-range shots.
Clearly, this defense was born from their long battles with Toyotama. But trying to use it to contain Shohoku's perimeter? That was a different story. Shohoku's passers were simply too tall and skilled for such tactics to work.
Nango quickly proved this point.
He lobbed a high pass over the defense to Akagi, who caught it cleanly, backed down Handa, and spun into a hook shot.
It was a good look—but perhaps due to his lack of sleep, Akagi's shot bounced off the rim.
Despite his size disadvantage, Handa had a solid lower body. He quickly boxed Akagi out, grabbed the rebound, and passed it ahead to Tsuchiya Atsushi, who brought the ball up the court.
Nango frowned as he tracked their movement. Something about Daiei's setup felt off.
"Are they targeting me?" he wondered, glancing at the point guard, Mizui Koji, beside him.
"If that's the case... what exactly is this guy planning?"
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