Moroboshi darted into the corner, hands up, ready for the pass—but Fukuoka Yuji hesitated.
Sakuragi was already closing in fast, his red hair flashing like a warning light. If Fukuoka passed now, the ball would be swatted straight out of bounds.
At the last second, Fukuoka changed his mind and swung the ball toward the open Aoba Yoshi instead.
But just as Aoba reached out—
A large hand appeared out of nowhere and snatched the ball clean away.
"Fast break!"
Nango's deep voice boomed through the gym as he dribbled hard toward the frontcourt. The Shohoku players immediately shifted gears, sprinting at full speed alongside him in a seamless transition from defense to offense.
Amamiya Hideyoshi—Aiwa's slowest—lagged behind, joined by Mitsui Hisashi and Aoba Yoshi, who had just been stripped of the ball.
Everyone else raced ahead like sprinters chasing a finish line.
Three Aiwa players—Moroboshi Dai, Egawa Tatsuhoshi, and Fukuoka Yuji—hurriedly formed a defensive wall just inside the three-point line, bracing for impact.
Shohoku, with practiced precision, spread the floor wide. Egawa and Fukuoka were pulled toward the wings, leaving only Moroboshi in the middle.
And barreling straight at him—was Nango.
The two were about to collide head-on.
Up in the stands, Maki grinned. "Moroboshi, there's no way you can stop him."
Kiyota nodded in agreement. Compared to Nango's broad frame and raw power, Moroboshi looked almost frail.
But Moroboshi wasn't listening. He was focused, eyes locked on the ball. He knew—if Nango left the ground, it would be over.
The only chance was to time a steal perfectly when the ball left Nango's hand mid-dribble. But with Nango's speed and control, that window was razor-thin.
He steadied his breath.
Wait for it…
Slap!
Slap!
Slap!
The sound of the bouncing ball echoed rhythmically, like a countdown.
Then Nango's right hand opened slightly—he was preparing to change direction.
Now!
Moroboshi lunged forward, stretching his right arm in a desperate reach, his entire body lunging like a blade about to strike—
But he hit nothing.
Nango twisted his body sharply, spinning past Moroboshi in one smooth motion.
A blur of movement—then a clean layup.
The crowd roared as Shohoku's lead stretched to nine points. One more basket, and it would be double digits.
"Coach, what did you mean earlier—when you said the outcome would be clear soon?" Kiyota asked curiously.
Coach Kouzu smiled faintly, folding his fan. "Maki, what do you think?"
After a brief pause, Maki said, "It's because Akagi was subbed out, right?"
Kouzu nodded. "Exactly."
Though the answer was correct, Kouzu's expression carried a trace of melancholy. His trusted protégé would graduate in half a year—and he already felt the weight of that loss.
He continued softly, "Against Aiwa Academy's perimeter-heavy offense, Akagi's footwork is too slow. He'd be targeted relentlessly. On offense, he draws double-teams in the paint and can't move freely. Right now, his only reliable contribution would be rebounding."
"But Nango changes everything. On offense, he pulls Aiwa's big men away from the rim, creating space for Shohoku's attackers. On defense, he can step out to the perimeter and pressure shooters. His presence elevates both ends of the court. That's why, during this stretch, Shohoku will keep widening the gap."
Was Akagi strong?
Absolutely.
If he weren't, Coach Tangze from the prestigious Fukazawa Sports University wouldn't have personally requested him.
But Akagi was a player with clear strengths—and equally clear weaknesses. Against a team like Aiwa Academy, whose style naturally countered him, his influence was limited.
Realization dawned on Kiyota. "So that's what it is…"
Kouzu exhaled and smiled faintly. "Coach Anzai truly is a master. Age hasn't dulled his mind one bit. And making the switch only at halftime—it's to protect Akagi's pride."
Indeed, Kouzu was right.
If it had been the "White-Haired Demon" of his younger days, Anzai would've benched Akagi long before halftime.
Time, however, has a way of softening even the hardest edges.
As play resumed, Moroboshi drove past Rukawa—only to find Sakuragi stepping up to block his path. He changed directions twice, but Sakuragi stuck to him like glue.
Unable to shake him off, Moroboshi scanned the paint.
Amamiya Hideyoshi and Aoba Yoshi were both calling for the ball on either side of the basket—but Nango was perfectly positioned between them. It looked like the two were surrounding him, but in reality, Nango was guarding both.
Moroboshi hesitated, then decided to take it himself—one hard dribble, then a sudden pull-up jumper.
Sakuragi leaped, his timing impeccable. Though he didn't block the shot, he disrupted it enough.
Bang!
The ball clanked off the rim.
Still, Moroboshi wasn't worried. With both Aiwa big men under the basket, the rebound seemed secured.
Amamiya got a hand on it first—but before he could grasp it, Nango came flying from behind, tipping it upward.
He jumped again—snatched the ball cleanly—and launched a full-court outlet pass in one motion.
Shohoku's players knew exactly what to do. Sakuragi and Miyagi sprinted down the court, the rhythm perfectly familiar.
Miyagi caught the pass and finished with an easy layup.
The lead finally broke into double digits.
On the Aiwa bench, faces fell. Panic flickered in their eyes. They couldn't even pinpoint what was going wrong.
Coach Sakaguchi immediately called timeout. He might not have a solution yet, but he needed to calm his team down before the game slipped away completely.
Calling a timeout so soon after halftime said it all—Aiwa Academy's adjustments had failed, while Shohoku's had paid off instantly.
That was the power of Coach Anzai's vision—and Nango's presence.
Nango's defensive strategy was deliberate: he allowed Sakuragi to roam freely for help defense because he knew Aiwa's two big men lacked the ability to attack the rim directly. By the time they received the ball, Nango would already be there to contest—and if his timing was right, it would end in a block.
It was a calculated risk born from confidence.
Of course, if either of those two had the skill to attack one-on-one…
Then Shohoku's defense would have been in serious trouble.
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