One cliffhanger was enough; Nango feared the team might gang up on him if he pulled it again, so he continued smoothly:
"For tomorrow's game, I suggest we stick with man-to-man defense—but with adjustments.
First, regarding Sawakita Eiji: his pull-up jumper is too accurate. Even with help defense from behind, it's hard to disrupt him. So instead of challenging his shot, we focus on preventing him from receiving the ball in the first place. Let Fukatsu pass the ball to Kawata Masashi in the paint instead."
Mitsui raised his hand first. "But Kawata's offensive range is huge. Akagi won't have an easy time against him, right?"
Akagi had the same worry, but before he could voice it, Nango smiled.
"That's exactly what we're going to use against him."
"Huh?" Mitsui and Akagi were both stunned.
Nango pointed at the video frame of Kawata on the TV. "He's so versatile that he plays smart. He conserves energy. A lot of times he'll float outside and shoot—because true post play drains stamina. But if you look closely, his perimeter shooting isn't actually stable."
"Hikoichi, show his earlier offensive possessions."
"Ah—right! On it!"
Hikoichi replayed sequences one after another. The players leaned forward, concentrating.
Just as Nango said, Kawata rarely committed to a real post-up. Most of his shots came from mid-range, and many were not particularly clean.
Coach Anzai raised his brows in surprise. He hadn't expected Nango to understand Sannoh's players so thoroughly.
But how does he know this much?
He wasn't the only one wondering. Sakuragi, as usual, asked the question out loud:
"Nango, how do you know so much about them?"
Nango didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked to the wall, pulled out a sports magazine from the rack, and placed it on the table.
Everyone crowded around.
It was a sports magazine featuring Sannoh Industrial's Big Three on the cover.
The headline read: "Continuing the Reign?"
Nango tapped the cover with confidence.
"Who doesn't know Sannoh—famous throughout Japan? And since dominating the nation is our goal, isn't it normal to research our biggest enemy?"
The explanation was simple, logical, and boosted everyone's morale.
With someone like Nango—who understood the enemy so deeply—they all felt more secure.
Akagi and Mitsui, who had been tense, felt ashamed. Not only was Nango strong on the court, his pregame analysis was elite. Truly reliable.
Aida Hikoichi's blood boiled. Even if I can't be a main player… I can help my team this way!
Miyagi rubbed his chin. "So what about our offense tomorrow?"
"We'll talk about that last. Let me finish the last three phases first."
He sped up slightly.
"In the last 10 minutes of the first half, Sannoh shifted into a training or rotation phase. The Big Three were subbed out, but the system stayed the same.
Offense inside went to Kawata's younger brother—No. 15, Mikio. Outside scoring shifted to No. 6, Matsumoto Minoru. Ball-handling moved to No. 8, Ichinokura.
If Hakata Shodai wanted to turn the game around, this was their chance."
He paused.
"But they still couldn't stop Little Kawata or Matsumoto."
He continued:
"Then, in the first 10 minutes of the second half, the three starters returned. The game entered its decisive phase. With the stamina advantage from rotations, their efficiency stayed high while Hakata began to fall behind—trailing by 15."
"By the 31st minute, the final phase began. Sannoh initiated a full-court press from the backcourt and sealed the game completely."
Nango turned to Coach Anzai.
"Coach, anything to add?"
Coach Anzai smiled kindly.
"You explained it very well. Please continue."
"Yes!"
Nango resumed confidently.
"In tomorrow's game, Sannoh might not rotate like today—but their structure won't change. They will still rely on their dual-core offense: inside and outside. And what we need to do is—"
—
Meanwhile, Sannoh Industrial was equally busy.
They had just finished their own game in the afternoon—but they weren't resting.
They were running real tactical practice, not just video analysis.
To prepare for Shohoku, the meticulous Coach Domoto summoned former graduates—university-level star players—to form a squad mirroring Shohoku's playstyle.
These weren't ordinary alumni.
They were top players from various universities.
Such preparation could hardly be called insufficient.
Yet even against such a powerful team, Kawata and the others crushed them with ease. The game was one-sided from beginning to end.
"Thank you for the practice, seniors!"
Panting heavily, Mizusawa—the captain of the university all-star team—said with admiration:
"Looks like you guys will win the championship again this year. Four in a row… not bad."
"We'll do our best," Captain Fukatsu replied calmly, expression unreadable.
Kawata and Sawakita also looked indifferent.
They weren't excited about winning, nor nervous about the final.
Their faces suggested that victory was simply expected.
Just then Kawata asked, "Coach, can we review the video again?"
Coach Domoto chuckled.
"Go ahead. But don't stay up too late. Rest is also a weapon."
"Yes!" the players replied.
As they left, Domoto turned to the graduates.
"You've really gone out of your way."
"Not at all—playing with them is pretty fun."
"Really nostalgic, too."
But Mizusawa had gone silent. Domoto noticed immediately.
"Mizusawa? Something wrong?"
"Huh? Oh. No, I was just… thinking. Maybe winning too much isn't good for them. They don't lack fighting spirit, but… maybe they're losing passion…"
He didn't finish before someone smacked him verbally:
"Oi! Don't jinx them before the finals! Want to get punched?!"
Mizusawa broke into a cold sweat.
"My bad! Pretend I didn't say anything!"
"Too late! You're treating us to late-night snacks!"
"EHH?!"
Laughter filled the room.
Meanwhile, Coach Domoto looked thoughtful.
"Winning too much… might not be a good thing?"
—
Inside Sannoh's private room, their main players gathered, reviewing Shohoku's footage carefully.
Sawakita commented casually, "Even though today's practice was meant to simulate Shohoku, Mizusawa-senpai's style is nothing like Nango's."
Kawata rubbed his sore wrist.
"Idiot. How many point guards are 194 centimeters? Mizusawa-senpai's already tall—he's 186."
Matsumoto chuckled.
"Doesn't matter. No matter how tall he is, the captain will handle him."
No one disagreed.
Except Fukatsu.
He remained silent—eyes glued to Nango on the screen.
Trying to uncover any weaknesses.