Maki stepped up to the free-throw line.
Standing under the basket ready to rebound, Nango glanced toward the bench, then let out a quiet sigh.
"Games with Maki are always troublesome…"
Not even halfway through the first half, Morishige Hiroshi already had one foul to his name. One more, and he would be forced to sit.
And once Hiroshi left the court, the substitutes—Little Kawata, Sugadaira, and Jin—would struggle to fill the massive hole he left behind, especially against the twin towers of Kawada Masashi and Tsuchiya Atsushi.
For the Freshmen Team, protecting Morishige Hiroshi was now an absolute priority.
While Maki prepared for his first free throw, Nango quickly pulled Rukawa Kaede and Sendoh aside and whispered, "Try to double Maki or force him into long-range shots. We can't let him keep attacking Morishige like this, or things will get ugly later."
Without waiting for a response, he released them and returned to his spot.
Sendoh scratched his head, laughing softly. "That's a tall order."
Rukawa glanced at him, then at Morishige Hiroshi. Annoyed but realistic, he nodded. Winning came first.
Maki calmly sank both free throws.
Nango received the inbound and deliberately slowed the pace as he crossed half court. He wanted to reduce possessions, emphasize efficiency, and—most importantly—shield Hiroshi from unnecessary contact.
Fukatsu, guarding him, grew increasingly irritated.
This practice game felt eerily similar to the finals again—where he had been invisible on both ends of the floor.
And Maki, who had "educated" him earlier that morning, was watching.
He couldn't stand it.
Driven by frustration, Fukatsu ramped up his defense, pressing tightly and swiping aggressively, his hands constantly darting in and out.
It was useless.
Nango calmly used side dribbles and back dribbles to shield the ball, giving Fukatsu no angle to steal.
Trying to stop him alone was impossible.
Worse still, Fukatsu's over-aggression created openings.
With Fukatsu glued to him, Nango leaned into the contact, then suddenly spun, completely shaking him off before exploding into the paint.
Tsuchiya stepped up to help—again—but Nango ignored him, lowering his head and charging straight for the rim.
At this depth, Tsuchiya couldn't retreat. He planted himself between Nango and the basket, arms raised.
Even so, Nango went up hard.
Tsuchiya was startled.
Is he really trying to finish over me?!
He leapt to contest, draping himself over Nango, but the impact didn't stop him. Nango forced the ball off the glass and into the net.
Still, he wasn't satisfied.
"Tsuchiya's too disciplined… No chance to draw a foul," Nango muttered to himself.
He had hoped to create foul trouble the way Maki did—but Tsuchiya's defensive temperament made that nearly impossible.
On the next possession, Maki sprinted up the left sideline. Before even crossing half court, he fired a pass to the right wing.
Nango wanted to slow the game—but Maki wanted to accelerate it.
Because the Veterans Team had a deadly weapon in transition.
Sendoh had briefly shifted his attention to Maki.
That was enough.
Moroboshi caught the ball and drove straight down the lane.
Morishige Hiroshi, already retreating to the restricted area, burst forward to meet him. Fearless, Moroboshi took three long steps toward the rim.
Hiroshi leapt with everything he had, aiming to rip the ball straight out of the air.
But Moroboshi pulled the ball back mid-flight and finished with a slick reverse layup, scoring cleanly.
Only then did Nango fully understand the Veterans Team's strategy.
Everything revolved around Morishige Hiroshi.
In the half court, they ran pick-and-rolls to drag him into action, giving Maki chances to attack and draw fouls.
In transition, they pushed the tempo, denying Hiroshi the opportunity to anchor the defense.
Their goal was obvious—
Get Morishige Hiroshi off the floor.
Nango pressed his lips together, admiration rising in his chest.
"Maki… with teammates like this, he's terrifying. Kainan really doesn't deserve him."
A moment ago, Nango had been thinking about protecting Hiroshi.
Now, he understood that protecting him too much only shackled the team.
If Hiroshi was going to be targeted anyway, there was only one answer—
Use him to the fullest before he went down.
As soon as Morishige Hiroshi established position, Nango lofted the ball inside.
Go wild.
Hiroshi caught it without hesitation, bulldozing his way forward before spinning into a powerful hook.
Kawata knew this move all too well. From morning until now, Hiroshi had relied on nothing else—pure strength, no finesse.
And yet, there was nothing Kawata could do but meet it head-on.
He stretched his long arm to contest, their forearms nearly colliding.
No whistle.
The shot missed—but it didn't matter.
Hiroshi snatched the offensive rebound and went straight back up.
This time, the whistle blew.
The basket counted.
Nobe swallowed hard. "Morishige Hiroshi is terrifying… I've never seen Masashi get bullied like this."
"He's a monster," Matsumoto muttered, wiping cold sweat from his forehead. "No skill, just brute force."
After a pause, he added, "Still… Mikio could learn something from that."
Nobe glanced toward the Freshmen bench and shook his head. "Right now, Mikio's not thinking about learning. He's worried about his brother."
Brother…
Mikio wasn't worried about Kawata.
He was worried about himself.
He knew his brother's personality too well. Masashi wasn't the type to let humiliation slide. If Morishige Hiroshi kept this up, he would definitely retaliate.
And not just once.
What if Hiroshi fouls out?
Who goes in?
Even Mikio knew the answer.
Him.
His face went pale.
If he stepped onto the court now, he'd be completely destroyed.
Clasping his hands together, Mikio prayed silently:
"Morishige Hiroshi… please don't foul out. And even if you do—please don't let it be me."
As Hiroshi stepped to the free-throw line, Nango again pulled Rukawa and Sendoh aside.
"Let's switch to straight man-to-man," he said quietly. "You two conserve your energy. Let Morishige wear them down. Once he's gone, that's when we strike."
Sendoh nodded. He could already see it—Hiroshi would eventually be fouled out.
Rukawa had no objections. If it meant saving energy, even better.
After all, this game wouldn't be decided so soon.