With the Youth Team striking first, the Old Team was eager to answer back. Maki pushed the ball across half court at full speed, while Kawata slipped to the free-throw line, hands raised and ready.
Since Maki had already attacked once, he chose to lob the ball inside, handing the initiative over to Kawata.
Catching the pass, Kawata backed down the trailing Morishige Hiroshi, then suddenly spun and drove into the paint. Just before reaching the rim, he slipped in a low, soft layup.
It was an extremely intelligent play—using footwork and timing to avoid a direct collision with Sen Fatty. It proved that as long as Kawata stayed calm, he could fully display his true strength.
After switching ends, Nango and Rukawa Kaede executed a clean handoff. Rukawa seized the opening and slashed toward the basket.
Kawata stayed near the rim to box out Morishige Hiroshi and prevent an offensive rebound, forcing Tsuchiya Atsushi to step up and help on defense. Tsuchiya slid into Rukawa's driving lane, determined to keep him away from the hoop.
Rukawa rose for a jumper, smoothly selling the fake before flicking the ball out mid-air. Sakuragi caught it under the basket and banked it in.
Though it still felt slightly awkward, Sakuragi was clearly getting used to receiving passes from Rukawa.
Over the next few possessions, Kawata and Rukawa each added another bucket, both showing excellent form as the score climbed to 8–6.
Yet this was not the scene Anzai Jitsurei had hoped to see.
The purpose of this practice game wasn't to watch individual brilliance—it was to observe whether these players could develop chemistry, whether they could form connections beyond raw talent.
Anzai understood that haste makes waste. These players had only just been assembled. Still, with so much talent on the floor, he naturally held high expectations.
At the top of the arc, Maki slowed the pace and organized the offense. Kawata stepped up to set a screen.
After tasting success earlier, Kawata was now playing farther from the basket, deliberately trying to pull Morishige Hiroshi away from the paint. He had no desire to wrestle with that monster inside the restricted area.
Morishige Hiroshi wasn't slow, but his defensive range didn't extend all the way to the three-point line. The space below the free-throw line was where he truly dominated.
So when Kawata ran out to set the screen, Morishige stopped at the free-throw line, watching carefully.
Maki turned the corner cleanly. For a moment, he had a clear shot—but he wasn't A Jin. Instead, he lowered his shoulder and exploded toward the basket.
Morishige reacted instantly, his massive frame shadowing Maki step for step.
Gathering the ball beneath the rim, Maki leapt for a right-handed layup. He hadn't fully shaken Morishige. The giant rose with him, arms spread wide like dark thunderclouds, ready to strike.
Morishige couldn't see Maki's face—but Maki was smiling.
In mid-air, he smoothly switched the ball to his left hand… then flipped it behind his back.
The ball dropped perfectly into the path of the trailing Kawata.
Kawata rose and thundered the ball through the hoop.
Anzai Jitsurei's eyes lit up.
This—this—was exactly what he wanted to see.
No shouted instructions. No rehearsed tactics. Just instinctive coordination.
Tactics could be taught. Chemistry could not.
These players came from different schools, and the time they would spend together on the Youth Team was limited. Anzai needed a twelve-man roster that could quickly form real combat strength when national team duties arrived—not a group of disconnected stars.
The Old Team was beginning to show signs of that cohesion.
Now it was the Youth Team's turn.
"Sakuragi," Nango called out, "if Kawata pops out again, you take him. A-Kuan can handle the paint."
He spoke naturally, calling Morishige by his nickname. Surprisingly, Sen Fatty showed no resistance and simply accepted it.
"Got it," Sakuragi replied immediately. "Kawata's mine."
Nango blinked in surprise.
I thought he'd reject it on instinct…
Coming to the Youth Team had clearly changed Sakuragi. He was becoming more team-oriented—a very pleasant surprise.
Smiling, Nango advanced the ball.
"A-Kuan!"
Morishige was about to post up when Nango called him over, signaling for a screen.
Morishige hesitated. At Meihou Industrial, screening duties usually fell to Naoto Kawashima. He preferred to stay near the basket.
Still… Nango had just helped solve the Kawata problem.
Reluctantly, he set the screen.
Anzai pushed up his glasses, his attention locked onto the two. He had long wondered what kind of force this combination would produce.
Even half-hearted, Morishige's massive body ensured the screen's effectiveness. Fukatsu tried to fight around it—but was forced into a wide detour.
Nango shook free instantly.
Instead of stopping, Morishige rolled hard toward the basket, hunting for an offensive rebound.
Their simultaneous advance created immense pressure. Kawata and Tsuchiya froze for a split second, unsure who to stop.
After hesitating, Tsuchiya lunged at Nango, leaving the bigger problem—Morishige Hiroshi—for Kawata.
Sacrifice a teammate to save yourself, Tsuchiya thought.
Damn it—so cunning!
Grinding his teeth, Kawata stepped up.
Seeing this, Nango abruptly pulled to the wing, completely clearing the paint.
Everyone expected a pass to Morishige.
Instead, Nango tossed the ball high into the air.
All eyes followed it.
Sendoh soared in from the baseline, caught it cleanly, and hammered it home.
With Kawata and Tsuchiya drawn out, the paint had been left wide open. Sendoh had slipped in unnoticed—and Nango had caught it instantly.
Their chemistry might not be perfect yet—but they shared the ball and read the game intelligently.
After scoring, Sendoh and Nango simply exchanged a high-five and jogged back on defense. No celebration was needed. The play spoke for itself.
On the next possession, Maki and Kawata ran another screen-and-roll—but this time Sakuragi clung tightly to Kawata, delaying the roll.
Forced to act alone, Maki attacked the basket.
Morishige Hiroshi stood beneath the rim like an immovable wall.
Maki still drove straight at him.
Sen Fatty welcomed the challenge. Last time, he hadn't managed to strip the ball—this time, he wanted the block.
Bang!
The monster at point guard and the monster at center collided head-on.
Beep!
The assistant coach's whistle shrieked, preparing to call a blocking foul on Morishige Hiroshi. The only question now was whether it would be one free throw or two.
What terrifying strength…
Maki rarely lost physical battles like this. His balance failed mid-air, and he could only fling the ball upward in desperation.
Morishige didn't allow even that hope.
He swatted the ball away.
Maki crashed to the floor—but with his iron body, he quickly stood up, ready to head to the line.
Morishige Hiroshi and Maki locked eyes.
Both were thinking the same thing:
This guy… is a monster.