Nango knew that Tsuchiya Atsushi was a versatile player—a forward who could handle the ball—but he didn't expect Daiei Academy to be this straightforward.
From the very start, they handed Tsuchiya full control of the offense, letting him dribble, advance the ball, and organize every play.
They were, in every sense, relying entirely on him.
Meanwhile, their point guard Mizui Koji crossed half-court and immediately stationed himself in the corner—motionless, almost like a decoy.
At that moment, Nango understood everything.
Daiei Academy's plan was simple: isolate him.
Force him to guard an inactive player and take him completely out of the defensive equation.
It was a clever move—but also easy to counter. Nango could've switched assignments with someone else and gotten back into the action.
But he didn't.
Instead, a mischievous thought crept into his mind.
If they take me out of the play… then what will Sakuragi and Rukawa do? What did they learn during summer training?
With that, Nango quietly stayed put in the corner—content to watch how his teammates handled the challenge.
From the bench, Coach Anzai smiled knowingly.
Of course, he'd anticipated that some teams would try to target Nango specifically.
It had been a long time since he'd seen an opponent devise a strategy like this, and it made the game unexpectedly interesting.
On the grand stage of the National Tournament, Anzai Mitsuyoshi's blood, calm for many years, began to stir once again.
But he didn't intervene—not yet.
He wanted to see how his players would respond on their own.
Daiei's first attack began.
Tsuchiya passed to Handa Go, who was positioned not in the paint but near the top of the arc.
After Tsuchiya moved to the right side of the free-throw line, Handa patiently waited for him to get into position before passing the ball back.
Sakuragi was assigned to guard Tsuchiya.
In this match, the redhead would have to go toe-to-toe with a national-caliber forward on both offense and defense.
Their duel would directly determine the flow of the game.
After receiving the ball, Tsuchiya leaned into Sakuragi, testing his strength.
But Sakuragi didn't budge an inch—his stance solid and unshakable.
Sakuragi smirked. "Pretty boy, you're not getting through me!"
Tsuchiya ignored the taunt. He wasn't interested in mind games—he was analyzing.
As he suspected, he couldn't overpower Sakuragi physically.
But he didn't need to.
Turning face-up, Tsuchiya started to dribble. Unlike most forwards, his handle was smooth—almost like a guard's.
He crossed over, then drove hard to the right baseline.
Sakuragi moved with him effortlessly, cutting him off.
Then, Tsuchiya executed a quick behind-the-back dribble, switching to his left hand and attacking the opposite direction.
Sakuragi reacted instantly, shifting his weight and following again.
But then—Tsuchiya suddenly stepped back, creating just enough space, and launched a quick jumper.
The ball arced cleanly through the air.
Swish!
The first points of the game belonged to Daiei Academy.
Handa pumped his fist. "Nice one, Tsuchiya!"
Mizui shouted from the corner, "Well done!"
Sakuragi clicked his tongue. "Tch…"
He was clearly irritated, silently vowing not to let Tsuchiya fool him again.
On Shohoku's next possession, Nango passed the ball inside to Akagi.
But once again, Akagi's hook shot rimmed out.
"What's wrong with my brother…?" Haruko whispered anxiously from the stands. After two clean looks had bounced out, even she sensed something was off.
Tsuchiya grabbed the rebound himself, dribbled up the court, and met Sakuragi again near the three-point line.
Determined not to fall for the same trick, Sakuragi tightened his defense, sticking close.
On the opposite side, Handa Go pulled out to set a screen for Hotta Ka.
Akagi was a step too slow to adjust, and Hotta immediately used the screen to pop open at the top of the arc.
Tsuchiya saw it instantly and fired a crisp pass.
Hotta caught and released in one motion.
Swish!
Daiei Academy led 5–0.
Watching from the stands, Kishimoto frowned.
"Tsuchiya won't get caught up in one-on-one battles. That redhead's raw strength isn't enough to stop him."
Nearby, Nakamura, who was covering Shohoku's game while Aida Yayoi handled Sannoh's, murmured,
"Tsuchiya Atsushi… he's so much like Sendoh from Ryonan."
On Shohoku's bench, Nango hesitated. Akagi had missed twice—should he keep feeding him the ball?
Just then, Sakuragi, holding off Tsuchiya with his back, raised his hand.
"Nango! Here! Pass it to me!"
Maybe that was worth trying.
If Sakuragi could trade blows with Tsuchiya, it might wear the Daiei ace down over time.
Once Tsuchiya's stamina dropped, Daiei's offense would inevitably suffer.
So Nango passed the ball inside.
With his back to the basket, Sakuragi had a solid chance.
If he played it right, he could either score or force Tsuchiya to expend precious energy.
Unfortunately, Nango underestimated Sakuragi's competitive streak.
Instead of backing him down, Sakuragi faced up—dribbling directly into a head-to-head challenge.
Nango almost shouted out loud.
"You idiot! Why aren't you posting him up?!"
He wasn't the only one thinking that; even Shohoku's other players looked baffled.
Across from him, Tsuchiya blinked in surprise.
"Huh? Is he… trying to play my style?"
Sakuragi lowered his stance and charged toward the baseline.
Tsuchiya reacted quickly, sliding his feet to block the path.
Sakuragi stopped, switched hands, and drove toward the middle instead.
Tsuchiya mirrored him again.
Now visibly frustrated, Sakuragi snarled, "Damn it! Then I'll shoot myself!"
He jumped and fired mid-motion, but Tsuchiya's hand shot up to contest.
Clang!
The ball hit the rim.
Tsuchiya immediately turned, boxed out, and grabbed the rebound.
As he landed, he smirked.
"Seriously? I thought this guy was amazing—but he's nothing special. We might actually have a shot at this."
Tsuchiya brought the ball past half-court, with Handa trailing behind him.
Handa stopped at the three-point line, setting a perfect screen to block Sakuragi's pursuit.
Taking advantage, Tsuchiya slipped into the paint and rose for a jumper near the free-throw line.
Akagi rotated over to contest, leaping just as Tsuchiya released the ball—
—but instead of a shot, it was a pass.
Akio Kaneda, cutting backdoor, caught it mid-stride and laid it in.
7–0.
Daiei Academy had taken complete control.
"Tsuchiya! What a beautiful pass!"
"Keep it up! We can win this!"
"Yeah! Let's take them down!"
The Daiei bench erupted with energy.
Meanwhile, Shohoku's players weren't panicking—but they knew they needed to adjust.
If they let Daiei build more momentum, the gap would only widen.
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