Back in the lounge, Nango ruffled Rukawa Kaede's hair and teased,
"Not bad—you even made Kainan call a timeout."
Rukawa, unusually cheerful, didn't argue. He just laughed and muttered,
"Idiot."
"Nango! Why do you keep passing to that Stinky Fox?!" Sakuragi lunged forward and grabbed Nango's shoulder, preventing him from moving.
Nango scratched the back of his head, feigning innocence.
"Huh? Didn't you see? His touch is on fire—he keeps scoring."
"I can score too!" Sakuragi shouted, his eyes blazing.
Nango gave him a once-over and shrugged.
"Nope. You missed your last shot, and when you were double-teamed, you didn't pass."
"That was just… just carelessness!" Sakuragi protested.
Patting him on the shoulder, Nango chuckled.
"The game's not over yet. If there's a good chance, I'll pass to you. But you better take it—we're still down by four."
"That's right. We're still behind. Right now, our focus should be on taking the lead." Akagi's serious voice cut through the chatter as he tightened the cap on his water bottle.
He turned to Nango.
"Nango!"
"Here!"
"Maki's stamina is running out," Akagi said firmly. "Push him harder."
"Understood." Nango nodded without hesitation.
Then Akagi shifted his gaze to Sakuragi.
"Number 8, Kosuge. He shouldn't be a match for you, right?"
"Of course not, Big—" Sakuragi stopped short as Akagi glared daggers at him.
"Then guard the paint. Grab every offensive rebound. Remember—whoever controls the boards controls the game. That's worth more than a few points of your own."
"…Yes."
Sakuragi sulked, still craving the ball, but Akagi's authority silenced him.
Nango, however, could see a deeper issue. Shohoku's ball-sharing problem was becoming more and more obvious. One basketball simply wasn't enough for so many hungry hands.
While Shohoku's cracks were hidden beneath the surface, Kainan's flaws were already showing.
Their biggest problem: Maki couldn't carry the whole team alone.
Against weaker opponents, it worked fine—Maki's relentless drives and pinpoint passes let the offense flow like mercury, overwhelming them with nonstop scoring.
But against Shohoku, who had multiple strong perimeter defenders, the situation was different. Once Soichiro—"Jin"—was limited, no one else could step up to ease Maki's burden.
On offense, relying solely on Maki was brutally difficult. On defense, their average height hurt them badly. Maki often had to rotate and cover for others, and once he was tied up, Kainan's defense was full of holes.
The so-called "King Kainan" looked powerful, but in truth, they were fragile—everything rested on Maki's shoulders.
Even the best chef can't cook without ingredients. Coach Takato knew he lacked options, so he could only fire up his players.
"Don't think about defense!" he barked. "Attack! Attack! Attack until they break!"
"Yes…" came the half-hearted reply.
"LOUDER!"
"YES!!"
Satisfied at last, Takato gave his final instructions.
"Maki, let Soichiro distribute the ball. You attack from closer to the basket—save your energy."
Maki nodded. It made sense—shorter drives meant conserving stamina.
"Takasago, forget offensive rebounds. Focus on setting screens for Soichiro on the perimeter."
Takasago agreed. Staying inside against Akagi was pointless—he had been completely shut down.
"Soichiro, once you cross half-court, go straight to the top of the arc. If you've got the shot, take it. If not, move the ball."
"Kiyota, Kosuge, no standing still. Cut, move—make yourselves threats."
His speech finished, Coach Takato could only pray his adjustments would work.
When play resumed, the scoreboard read 63–67, with eight minutes left. Kainan still led by four.
Nango immediately caught on to the changes. When Takasago inbounded, Maki didn't even look for the ball. Instead, Takasago passed to Soichiro, then rushed up to set a screen.
At the same time, Maki tried to shake off Nango, while Kiyota and Kosuge cut toward the lane.
But Soichiro's choice shocked everyone—using Takasago's screen, he slipped past Sakuragi, stepped back, and pulled up for a deep three.
Not just outside the arc—two full steps beyond it. An NBA-range three-pointer.
Swish!
The ball dropped cleanly through the net.
"From that far?!"
Mitsui and Kogure, both excellent shooters, froze. They'd tried shots from that distance in practice, but their accuracy was never reliable.
"If Soichiro could really hit from there consistently, he wouldn't have been so quiet until now." Nango frowned. "Still, if he gets hot, we'll be in big trouble."
During Shohoku's inbound, he quickly warned his teammates.
"Stay locked on Soichiro! We can't let him find rhythm. I don't believe he can keep that up, but don't take chances."
Rukawa and Sakuragi both nodded, now fully alert after witnessing the impossible shot.
Mitsui clenched his fists.
"Hah, I knew it. That had to be luck. If he makes one, I'll make one back."
Nango smiled. "Alright, if the chance is there, I'll get you the ball."
Shohoku ran their set. Nango passed inside to Akagi, who went to work.
After wrestling with Takasago, Akagi spun inside with sheer power, shook free, and laid it in with ease.
Takasago, exhausted and outmatched, had no answer.
On the other end, Kainan went back to Soichiro.
The moment he touched the ball, Shohoku's perimeter defenders locked in on him. Only Nango's eyes stayed fixed on Maki, waiting for his chance.
Kainan's strategy was clear. They'd shifted their ace role, hoping Soichiro could shoulder the burden.
The final battle had truly begun.
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