"Smack!"
The basketball struck the right side of the rim with a crisp clang.
"Protect the rebound!" Mitsui shouted toward the paint.
Hayama clicked his tongue in frustration. He was the one Shohoku left open—again—and he still couldn't punish them for it.
"I won't let you get this!" Sakuragi roared, planting his feet and using all his strength to push Morishige Hiroshi out of position.
Morishige didn't respond. His eyes were locked completely on the ball as he used his massive frame and subtle shoves to fight back against Sakuragi's brute-force approach.
They were so tangled that neither could jump.
Perfect.
Nango extended his long arm and snatched the rebound cleanly.
Morishige exhaled heavily. "This red-haired guy… he's really in the way."
No matter how many times he crushed Sakuragi, the idiot popped back up like a wind-up doll with infinite stamina. Morishige's earlier dominance had faded—Sakuragi now forced him to work for every inch.
Nango took the ball up the court himself, drifting to the top of the arc.
Then—without hesitation—he pulled up for a three.
"What?! Shooting that casually?! No way he hits that!"
Kawashima's eyes widened as he turned—
Just in time to see the ball swish through the net.
"Swish!"
"Oh?" Sawakita murmured. "That guy's three-pointer is pretty sharp."
Kawata folded his arms. "And his timing's interesting. A bit like Fukatsu."
Fukatsu immediately protested, "It's not similar at all, ya know!"
Coach Domoto smiled faintly.
Kawata's right. That kid shoots at unexpected moments—he surprises defenders.
Seeing the lead stretch, Coach Murai snapped, "Kawashima! Get tighter on him! Don't give him space!"
But he also knew sending a 205-cm big man to defend Nango would be a disaster.
So he added sharply, "Help defense! The paint is Morishige's responsibility!"
60–45.
Meihou not only needed defense—they desperately needed offense.
Shohoku's plan was simple: smother Morishige, force Hayama to shoot. But Hayama's confidence was shaken. Too many open misses, too much pressure.
So he opted for a drive-and-kick.
He drew the defense inward and passed to Hanaoka Jugo—wide open.
"Please go in…" the Meihou bench whispered.
"Smack!"
Another miss.
"Come on! Why can't anyone score?!"
"Just feed Morishige!"
The Meihou fans were spiraling.
On the court, Sakuragi and Morishige jumped together, both touching the ball.
"Haaah!" Sakuragi landed, reloaded like a spring, and went up again, tipping the ball to his side.
He landed once more—jumped a third time—and finally secured the rebound.
Shohoku pushed the ball up.
Again, it was Nango leading the attack.
This time Kawashima didn't dare sag off. He sprinted all the way out to the arc to meet Nango.
Finally, Nango grinned inwardly. That's what I wanted.
Nango used a sharp change of direction, creating horizontal space before exploding forward.
Meihou's defense collapsed instantly.
Mitsui—lurking in the corner like a predator—received Nango's kick-out pass.
"Swish!"
Shohoku's third straight three-pointer.
Ikegami gulped. "They're insanely accurate today…"
Uozumi nodded. "They've pulled away fast. Shohoku's chances look better and better."
On the sideline, Akagi felt his soul leaving his body.
He'd been warming up anxiously for so long, but now—
"Coach… should I sit down again?"
Coach Anzai chuckled, "Akagi-san, stay ready. We'll need you later."
Back on the court—
Hayama held the ball, waiting for another Morishige screen.
But Morishige had had enough.
He stomped into the paint, spun, and roared:
"Give me the ball!"
Hayama flinched. "…O-okay."
Morishige caught the ball and immediately went to work in the post.
Fueled by frustration, he bullied Sakuragi, then launched a hook shot—
Finally breaking their scoring drought.
"That's it! Keep giving it to Morishige!"
"Only he can do it!"
Though true, hearing it still stung the Meihou players.
Shohoku inbounded. Miyagi handed the ball to Nango again—fully trusting him to run the show.
Nango crossed half-court.
Same setup. Same move.
But this time, after shaking Kawashima, Nango didn't drive. He lifted into a shooting motion.
Kawashima panicked and lunged, sprinting with everything he had.
"You're not hitting another one!" he shouted mid-air.
Nango smirked.
He never intended to shoot.
He waited for Kawashima to fly past, then leaned into him—
And gently tossed the ball up.
"Beep!"
"Smack!"
The whistle blew.
Coach Murai slapped his own forehead.
"What a bunch of idiots…"
Morishige stared at his team in disbelief.
He could carry the offense. But carrying the defense too?
Impossible.
Even if he sprinted out to the perimeter, he'd be faked out by Nango just like Kawashima.
Is this really how it ends? Is there no way to win?
Morishige clenched his fists.
He still believed there had to be a way.
However…
For the first time in his career, he was facing something truly unfamiliar:
Doubt.
And beneath that doubt—
A strange, burning excitement.