When the lineups were set, the senior players stood tall, confident and eager. Experience, size, and chemistry were on their side.
By contrast, the freshmen looked like scattered pieces of sand, untested and raw. On paper, the outcome looked obvious.
Daniel Irving announced the starting squads.
Senior Team
Center: Ichiro Sato – 6'2", 160 lbs (Sophomore)
Power Forward: Owen Suzuki – 6'1", 220 lbs (Sophomore)
Small Forward: Daniel Irving – 6'0", 165 lbs (Senior, Captain)
Shooting Guard: Isaac Takahashi – 5'9", 143 lbs (Senior)
Point Guard: Mark Ito – 5'6", 132 lbs (Sophomore)
Daniel, the captain, was of course the centerpiece. Isaac had come from a track background, blessed with stamina and speed, though his basketball skills were shallow. Ito was an undersized point guard with decent shooting, but zero playmaking—more selfish scorer than floor general.
Inside, Sato and Owen were jokingly dubbed Shohoku's *"thin and fat monks"—*one rail-thin, the other a lumbering ball of weight. Both liabilities, though still granted minutes because the senior rotation was only six men deep.
Freshman Team
Center: Charles Ackerman – 6'4", 187 lbs (Freshman)
Power Forward: Kyle Yamamoto – 5'11", 161 lbs (Freshman)
Small Forward: Justin Tanaka – 5'9", 143 lbs (Freshman)
Shooting Guard: Cory Grant – 5'9", 128 lbs (Freshman)
Point Guard: Nick Okamoto – 5'7", 165 lbs (Freshman)
Their lineup was a mix—Charles and Cory from Kitamura Middle School, while Yamamoto, Tanaka, and Okamoto came from Takeishi Junior High, a championship feeder program.
Cory knew these three well. Yamamoto had hops and could nail a mid-range jumper when left open. Tanaka specialized in spacing and shooting but lacked athleticism. Okamoto, stocky and strong, wasn't the fastest guard, but he had reliable scoring instincts.
They weren't stars individually, but as freshmen, they were raw talent waiting for polish.
As the teams warmed up, Cory pulled his teammates together. "Listen—we can't play disorganized. Basketball's a team sport. Alone I won't win this game. But if we combine our strengths, we might."
Okamoto scratched his head. "At Takeishi, our main play was pretty simple."
"What was it?" Charles asked.
Okamoto answered seriously: "Pass the damn ball to Mitch Harris."
Charles blinked. "…That's a tactic?"
Cory chuckled, completely unfazed. "Actually—it makes sense. At the junior high level, games are carried by stars. Everyone else just feeds them."
But Cory had something else in mind. He glanced around at the eager faces and smiled slyly. "I've got a tactic for us. If we run this right, we can beat them."
Their eyes lit up. "What's the plan?"
"One Star, Four Shooters."
The four freshmen looked at Cory in confusion.
Cory explained. "One core inside presence surrounded by four perimeter threats. Spacing creates opportunities—if the star gets double-teamed, he kicks it out. If he's one-on-one, he dominates. If the shot's open, take it. Simple."
It was revolutionary for them—this was a system that wouldn't enter the NBA until the mid-90s, centered around Hakeem Olajuwon and shooters like Robert Horry and Kenny Smith. But here, it was brand-new.
"Sounds legit," Nick Okamoto nodded.
"Then who's the star?" Yamamoto asked.
Cory's eyes settled on Charles Ackerman. "You are."
"Me?!" Charles's brows shot up.
"You're our anchor inside. You've got the size, strength, and vision. Even if they double-team you, you can dish. Play smart. You're the core of this offense."
Charles blinked in surprise, then grinned and nodded. "Alright. Let's try it."
Cory directed further: "Okamoto—you'll run pick-and-rolls with Charles. Feed him down low, but if they leave you, take your shot. The rest of us spread out. If Charles kicks it, be ready."
Clarity filled their eyes. The scattered energy now connected. This wasn't just chaos anymore. It was a scheme.
Cory noticed Charles still seemed tense. Years of Kitamura losses left scars—he wasn't used to expectation. To lighten the mood, Cory suddenly smacked him on the backside.
"Hey!" Charles recoiled, face beet red.
Cory smirked. "Relax. You'll play better."
Embarrassment replaced his nerves, and in a strange way, he was calmer.
BEEP!
The whistle blew for tip-off.
Charles Ackerman and thin Ichiro Sato stepped into the circle. The referee tossed the ball high.
Charles launched up, out-reaching Sato easily, and batted it toward Nick Okamoto.
But before Okamoto could gather, Mark Ito flashed in like lightning.
SMACK! He poked the ball loose, stealing it clean.
It flew into Isaac Takahashi's hands. Without hesitation, Isaac stormed forward, his sprinter's speed carrying him past half court in seconds.
One, two, long strides—he invaded the paint like a charging animal.
Cory sprinted hard, tracking him from behind, eyes narrowed. Silently, he counted in rhythm with Takahashi's steps.
"One… two… now."
He made his move.