Before long, the second half began.
During the timeout, the Blue Team had discussed how to deal with Kasugano Souta—this pressure monster.
Something about him just felt… off.
On the surface, he didn't look that threatening. It felt like, if they just tried a little harder, they could probably hold him down.
But no matter how hard they tried, the result never changed.
That kind of thing was depressing.
"Souta's really become impossible to deal with, huh," Ota said with a grin as he gulped down some water.
"Yeah, but Captain, we're nine points behind right now. Nine points behind Kasugano's bench squad. How are you still smiling?" someone complained. "You know what that guy's like. If we lose, he's gonna roast us until we want to crawl into a hole."
"Am I smiling?" Ota touched the corner of his mouth, then shook his head. "Well, let him laugh. After all, Souta's our teammate. That monster belongs to us."
The others relaxed a little at that.
Yeah—Souta was still one of them.
Sure, they got wrecked by him during scrimmages.
But the other schools in Tochigi? They'd be the ones getting destroyed for real in tournaments.
The thought made everyone chuckle.
"Maybe this year we can break our own record."
Hozumi Academy's basketball club didn't exactly have a glorious history.
Last year had been the first time in school history they'd ever made it to the national tournament.
This lineup—the current Hozumi team—was already the strongest in the school's history. No matter what came next, their names were guaranteed a place in the record books.
"Yeah. If we're lucky, maybe we can even make the top sixteen."
For a small prefecture like Tochigi, getting into the top sixteen nationwide would already be incredible.
Fewer people meant fewer talents, and with weaker regional competition, hardly anyone from Tochigi broke out to the national stage.
The game resumed.
Souta went all out. When the defenders focused on him, he'd pass, always finding Sakurai Ryo wide open. Ryo fired away again and again, his release so fast it made your heart skip.
And when they loosened their defense, Souta attacked himself—driving inside or pulling up for mid-range shots.
Most of his points came from the paint.
Three-pointers relied heavily on touch; without a pair of soft wrists, it was hard to be a great shooter.
Souta's ball feel was average. His hands were a bit stiff, and he often misjudged his shooting force, sending the ball either too far or too short.
Even so—
By the end of the match, he'd still racked up 17 points, 6 rebounds, and 9 assists.
For a 20-minute practice game, those numbers were insane.
If he'd played a full 40, he might've hit a triple-double easily.
Coach Oten was thrilled.
If the second-years from Teiko were called monsters, then Souta was, at the very least, a baby monster in his own right.
"Coach—"
"I know what you're thinking," Coach Oten said, clearly in a great mood.
"If luck's on our side this year and we don't run into Teiko too early, we just might break our school record again."
As long as Souta wasn't just a flash in the pan and could keep this level up—and with Ota, one of Tochigi's four top centers, in the lineup—
(And fine, even that softie Sakurai Ryo counted now...)
Hozumi Academy might actually stand a chance against everyone except Teiko.
More than that, the coach hadn't expected Ryo's performance today.
In twenty minutes, Ryo went 4-for-6—all from three-point range.
A 66% hit rate—deadly.
"I always knew he had it in him," the coach said, refusing to admit he'd misjudged the kid before. "But to bring out Ryo's potential, you need someone like Souta handling the ball."
The reason Ryo hadn't gotten much playtime before was simple: Hozumi Academy didn't have a good "driver" to run the offense.
Now that Souta was back, under his control, Ryo had been unlocked.
And the coach—ever the visionary—wasn't about to let that hidden gem go to waste again.
"We're changing our tactics," he declared. "The ball goes to Souta. He'll run the offense."
"We'll need to guard him against heavy defense. Here's how: Ota, pull out from under the rim and set screens for him. You've got the size—your picks are top-notch."
"After that, we can run more pick-and-rolls. You can pop out for mid-range shots if needed, Ota. Ryo stays on the arc to stretch the floor, creating space for Souta to drive..."
After just one scrimmage, Coach Oten had decided to revamp the team's entire system.
Up until now, Hozumi Academy's offense had always centered on Ota—even last year, when Souta hadn't left yet.
But now, Souta's individual ability was clearly above everyone else's.
The best tactic was simple: give the ball to your best player and let him do his thing.
The coach quickly called the team together, drew on the whiteboard, and had them start running drills right away.
One glance at the tactics board, and Souta could tell—his coach knew ball.
Forget all that fancy crap about triangle offense, screen-and-roll variations, run-and-gun, inside-out play...
The strongest basketball strategy in the world boiled down to one thing:
Give the ball to the best guy.
"Didn't think I'd ever meet another coach who knows ball as well as Coach Oten," Souta thought, grinning.
He was more than happy to see the shift—after all, it meant the ball was going to stay in his hands.
And the new system wasn't even that complicated.
It mostly focused on his coordination with Ota on the pick-and-roll.
Everyone else's movement? Totally free-form.
Whether he found them in time depended entirely on his own skill.
But that made sense.
They were all middle schoolers—no one had the tactical depth for complex systems.
Sometimes, simple plays worked best.
———
Club activities wrapped up.
Sakurai Ryo was still stuck in the gym, forced by Souta to practice his three-pointers.
Not too bad, really.
He only had to make a hundred.
Ryo had already been exhausted from regular practice, and when he heard Souta's demand, he nearly burst into tears.
At least he wasn't suffering alone.
"Ota, let's keep going," Souta said.
"Huh?"
Ota froze, halfway to the door, his girlfriend waiting outside for him.
But Souta spoke like it was only natural.
"We don't have much time. The new tactics revolve around us, so we need to build chemistry before Nationals."
"This is your last year. You really wanna end your middle school career half-heartedly?"
"You're just gonna waste your time on meaningless stuff instead of giving your all?"
His tone was so firm it almost sounded like a moral accusation.
Ota stood there blankly, his girlfriend also stunned.
But Souta wasn't done.
"Listen, Ota. You're not like the others."
Ota blinked. "What do you mean, not like the others?"
"Your grades suck. Even if you study hard in high school, you might not make it into a good university. After that, when you enter society, you'll just be another faceless office drone."
"You'll earn an average salary—maybe even less, since your grades are that bad. You're not exactly 'talent material,' and big companies only want talent."
"The only thing you've got going for you is basketball. That's your one way out. You're one of the best centers in Tochigi Prefecture. That means you've got some talent."
"If you push yourself harder and shine at Nationals, maybe a top basketball program will scout you. That could be your stepping stone—maybe even a shot at going pro someday."
"Sure, you'd probably start as a benchwarmer, maybe even a water boy—but that's still a hell of a lot more exciting than living a dull, colorless life."