Nango stepped to the free-throw line and calmly sank all three shots, pushing the score to 63–47. Shohoku held a comfortable lead.
But with 13 full minutes left on the clock, Meihou Industrial still had time to mount a comeback—however slim that chance might be.
Morishige Hiroshi continued wrestling in the paint, planting himself firmly under the basket. Sakuragi stubbornly fronted him, trying to deny every entry pass just as before.
But Fatty was done playing around. He lowered his stance, one arm shielding Sakuragi from circling behind him, his other hand waving impatiently for the ball.
Watching from the opposite side, Nango felt a twitch of irritation. If Morishige received that pass cleanly, he was planning to pounce immediately for a steal.
But Hayama read the defense perfectly. Instead of passing to Morishige's front, he lobbed the ball straight over him—no lead, no angle, just a direct high feed.
Morishige Hiroshi caught the ball, turned, and bulldozed toward the rim. With Sakuragi sealed off outside, there was no one between him and the basket. He planted his feet and prepared to unleash a brutal dunk.
Thud!
Fatty exploded upward, floor trembling beneath him, his massive frame rising like a launched boulder.
Smack!
"No way! Get down!"
Sakuragi jumped right after him, refusing to give up, aiming to swat the ball from behind. But blocked by Morishige's towering bulk, he couldn't even touch the ball.
"Pfft…"
Despite the serious situation, Kiyota nearly burst out laughing. With Sakuragi dangling on Morishige's back, he looked like a red-haired monkey clinging to a tree.
The referee's cheeks puffed as he blew the whistle.
"Beeeeep!"
But the play wasn't dead yet.
Bang!
Even with Sakuragi hanging on him, Fatty slammed the ball through the hoop with both hands, earning the bucket and a foul.
Sakuragi landed, staring at Morishige Hiroshi in disbelief.
"I clearly… I jumped the same time as him…"
"Ho ho ho ho! Too violent!"
"That was sick!! Do it again!"
"Morishige! Morishige!"
The crowd roared, thrilled by the sheer force of the dunk.
But on the bench, Maki Shinichi barely reacted. He muttered under his breath, "No matter how flashy the dunk is, it won't change the flow of the game."
As a seasoned point guard, he understood this better than anyone—momentum decides everything. The tempo firmly belonged to Shohoku. One dunk wouldn't change a thing.
Morishige Hiroshi completed the three-point play. Shohoku ball.
Akagi checked in right after the free throw. As he passed Miyagi, the point guard patted him on the shoulder.
"Captain, we're counting on you now."
"Leave it to me," Akagi replied with his usual stern confidence.
"…Somehow that doesn't make me feel better," Miyagi muttered under his breath.
Shohoku resumed their offense.
Following Nango's instructions, Akagi set a high screen, hoping to drag Morishige out of the paint. But Fatty refused to move, stubbornly anchoring himself inside. Kawashima Naoto switched out immediately.
Akagi's screen was solid—Hayama was completely cut off. Nango found himself facing Kawashima one-on-one again. This time Kawashima stood deep at the three-point line, eyes glued to Nango's shooting hand, terrified of another sudden pull-up three.
Seeing that, Nango didn't hesitate.
If you're that far back, I'm not shooting.
He drove hard.
With little space to change direction near the sideline, he simply pressed into Kawashima and powered his way through with raw speed.
Horiuchida rotated over, but Nango instantly kicked the ball out.
Rukawa caught it—rose up—released.
Swish… clank… tap… roll—drop.
A three.
Meihou Industrial's shoulders collectively slumped. No matter what they did defensively, Shohoku kept draining threes.
"Beep! Timeout! Meihou Industrial!"
Coach Murai finally had enough. Just minutes ago the game was neck and neck, but now the momentum had collapsed entirely. He couldn't allow Shohoku to keep bombing threes uncontested.
The sudden three-point onslaught reminded the Aichi spectators of another deadly long-range team—Aiwa Academy.
Inside the Shohoku huddle, Kogure passed around towels.
"You guys are doing great out there."
Nango smirked.
"Senpai, want to take a turn? Mitsui-senpai looks like he needs a break."
"Oi!!" Mitsui snapped immediately. "What part of me looks tired?! Just feed me the ball later! I'll bury every shot!"
Nango raised a thumb.
"Then I'll make sure you get your chances."
After everyone hydrated, Coach Anzai finally spoke.
"Your play in the second half has been excellent. Continue like this. They won't be able to hold out."
Everyone nodded.
Nango raised a suggestion.
"Coach, should we just double Morishige Hiroshi? Leave the other four open? Their shooting isn't that good."
Miyagi backed him up.
"Exactly. Their shots don't fall. As long as we grab the rebounds, it's fine."
Ayako checked the stats.
"Other than Morishige, their combined field-goal percentage is under 40%."
That sealed it.
Coach Anzai nodded.
"Then Akagi-san, Sakuragi-kun—no second-chance points. Secure every rebound."
"Understood. I'll protect the paint," Akagi replied firmly.
Beside him, Sakuragi only nodded weakly.
Everyone noticed instantly—something was wrong.
Akagi clenched his teeth.
This idiot…
He grabbed Sakuragi by the head, pressing their foreheads together.
"IDIOT! Stop thinking about useless things!"
"…got it…"
Seeing the lifeless response only infuriated Akagi more.
"The game isn't over! Are you already giving up?!"
But Sakuragi didn't flare up like usual.
Because deep down… he believed he couldn't stop Morishige Hiroshi.
This wasn't like Tsuchiya Atsushi. Back then, every play, every struggle pushed him to new heights. He had seen progress, felt progress, tasted progress.
But now?
As long as Morishige Hiroshi got the ball…
He was helpless.
Was his only job to stop Morishige from getting the ball in the first place?
For the deeply prideful Sakuragi…
This realization was crushing.
Nango didn't even know what to say. The logic that worked on normal people never worked on Sakuragi.
Anyone with Sakuragi's build would struggle against Morishige. It wasn't even shameful.
But Sakuragi Hanamichi simply refused to accept reality.
And sometimes…
that kind of stubbornness becomes a terrifying weakness.