Barkley never imagined that one day…
A high school kid would make him this angry.
He had seen everything in his career — trash talk, superstars, playoff wars.
But the boy in front of him?
Calm.
Relaxed.
Smiling.
Even after Barkley had answered back with a three-pointer.
That smug little grin was still there.
It made Barkley feel strangely irritated.
Am I the invited guest here…? Or is he?
Enough.
This time, Barkley stepped forward aggressively, crossing the three-point line and locking onto Nango.
He was done playing.
He would crush him outright.
Nango immediately retreated along the sideline.
On the surface, he looked composed.
Inside?
He was walking a tightrope.
The score was 14–12.
Just one possession separated them.
If he failed here, Barkley would seize control.
Thirty-nine seconds remained.
One more successful attack…
And it would be over.
Nango drove along the boundary.
Barkley slid perfectly with him.
The Jazz players shifted inward, ready to trap.
Nango stopped. Started. Crossed over. Changed pace.
Nothing worked.
No wonder he's an NBA star…
And this wasn't even the defensive version of Barkley.
If it were Jordan… Pippen… would I even be able to dribble?
For a split second, Nango felt the gap.
Then pride surged up.
I refuse to believe it.
He suddenly stopped retreating.
Instead, he let Barkley close the distance.
Barkley's eyes sharpened.
Finally giving up?
Nango lowered his center of gravity, shoulder pressing into Barkley's chest, pounding the ball hard with his right hand.
But against this size?
It wasn't enough.
Barkley squeezed his dribbling space and suddenly reached in.
Nango retreated half a step—
Then exploded forward.
Barkley slid once.
Perfect angle.
Blocked.
Kid, you're finished.
His hand shot toward the ball—
But at the last instant—
Nango whipped it behind his back.
Clean.
Barkley's reach came up empty.
Opportunity.
Nango accelerated instantly, slipping past him.
Yayoi's breath caught.
Did he break through?!
Barkley pivoted and chased, only half a step behind.
They reached the rim almost simultaneously.
From the weak side—
Fukuda rushed in.
Perfect timing.
Nango frowned.
No retreat now.
Tiger behind him. Wall in front.
He gathered and leapt.
He collided with Fukuda midair.
Bang!
The impact sent him off balance — but it also absorbed some of his momentum.
Barkley soared from behind, palm wide open.
He was certain.
Blocked.
But—
Nango bent his right arm inward midair, narrowly avoiding the giant hand.
Then, with only his wrist—
He flicked.
Soft.
High.
The ball floated gently toward the rim.
Swish.
Silence.
Then—
Explosion.
"That's insane!!"
"He scored that?!"
"He's unreal!"
Barkley stood with his hands on his hips.
Not angry this time.
Studying him.
What are you…?
Nango didn't celebrate.
He looked down at Fukuda.
"You okay?"
Fukuda rubbed his chest but shook his head stubbornly.
Nango nodded and turned back.
Defense.
Just run out the clock.
Next possession—
Barkley forced another three over Nango.
Clang.
Missed.
Fukuda couldn't secure the rebound.
The loose ball bounced—
Into Nango's hands.
He protected it, retreated, and let the clock drain.
Final whistle.
Game over.
Staff quickly motioned for them to leave the court to prepare for the next event.
But no one was watching the next match.
All eyes were on Nango.
Lance licked his lips.
"You said he's… fifteen?"
The staff member nodded nervously.
"First-year high school… fifteen."
Lance's eyes gleamed.
Fifteen.
With that composure.
That skill.
And he was Japanese.
The NBA had been desperate to open the Asian market.
A talent like this?
A rare gemstone waiting to be polished.
Lance could almost smell it.
Big money.
And he wasn't letting that fish swim away.
"Congratulations."
Yayoi's voice trembled with excitement.
"Thank you."
Nango smiled faintly.
But he wasn't satisfied.
This wasn't a real game.
Not five-on-five.
Not full court.
Today only proved one thing—
He still had a long way to go.
His speed advantage hadn't been fully used.
His rhythm changes weren't sharp enough.
He had relied on tricks instead of dominance.
That wouldn't be enough at a higher level.
From now on—
He would focus on breaking defenders down.
Penetration.
Explosion.
As for three-point shooting?
That could wait.
There was still so much to improve.