hi and Matsumoto, they were simply on a different level.
The result left Mitsui frustrated.
With his experience and sharp instincts, he could predict their moves—but his body no longer responded the way it used to. He could only watch as they slipped past him again and again.
Worse still, both of them were third-year players, just like him.
That realization reopened old wounds—two wasted years that could never be reclaimed.
After observing the group, Anzai Jitsurei firmly checked Moroboshi Dai's name and crossed out the Hakata Shodai player. He left Matsumoto's and Mitsui's names untouched.
Then he shifted his attention to the point guard matchup.
With Nango reassigned, only three players remained. Hakata Shodai's starting point guard was quickly overwhelmed, leaving the floor to two men alone.
A true duel.
Fukatsu spoke first—rare for him.
"When I heard you failed to reach the National Tournament, I was surprised," he said calmly. "With your ability, that's a real shame."
Though his words expressed regret, his face remained unreadable.
Maki smiled faintly. "I feel the same. That's why I trained harder than ever this past year—to meet you again."
"That's good," Fukatsu replied. "Now you finally have a chance to defeat me."
He planted his feet, ready for impact.
"You misunderstand," Maki said softly. "My target isn't just you—it's all of Sannoh Industrial."
The instant he finished speaking, Maki drove forward.
He slammed into Fukatsu head-on.
Fukatsu was prepared—but still staggered under the sheer force. His defense collapsed in an instant.
Maki burst past him and rose high, finishing with a thunderous one-handed dunk.
Last year, after Sannoh eliminated them, Fukatsu was hailed as the nation's best point guard.
But Maki never believed Fukatsu was stronger than him.
He understood the cruel truth: victors define history. To prove himself, he had to defeat Sannoh—and Fukatsu—on the national stage.
For that revenge, he trained relentlessly.
Yet fate was cruel.
Ryonan and the perennial underdog Shohoku rose up, shutting Kainan out of Kanagawa entirely.
Now only one chance remained—the Winter Tournament.
One spot.
One team.
Even the King, Maki Shinichi, felt uncertainty creep into his heart.
"Tsk…" Anzai Jitsurei muttered, watching Fukatsu rub his chest. "Maki's playstyle grows more domineering by the day…"
It was precisely because he admired Maki that Anzai had recruited him last year.
After learning that Kainan missed Nationals, Anzai rewatched the Kanagawa footage and discovered the sharpshooter Jin.
Wanting to expand Nango's versatility, he recruited both Maki and Jin.
Though Jin's physical tools were average, his three-point shooting was lethal—much like Mitsui Hisashi.
That was why Anzai didn't eliminate them outright despite their one-on-one weaknesses. Instead, he chose to observe them further.
Satisfied, Anzai turned away.
Only one matchup remained.
The center battle.
After watching for just a moment, Anzai frowned.
These five big men were playing far too violently.
The rules required the offensive player to start from the baseline, receive the ball with their back to the basket, and score inside.
Physical play was inevitable—but this was excessive.
Morishige Hiroshi fought desperately to pin Kawata Masashi behind him, trying to establish deep position. Kawata resisted with equal ferocity.
Locked together, neither yielded.
The assistant coach fed Morishige the ball.
The moment he caught it, Morishige dribbled once and slammed backward.
The collision echoed.
Both men stumbled—Kawata fell, and Morishige lost his balance as well.
Recovering, Morishige bumped again and forced up a layup—
Missed, under heavy interference.
The assistant coach swallowed nervously, glancing at Anzai, silently asking whether they should stop the match.
Anzai hesitated—then shook his head.
When Kawata took his turn, he abandoned finesse.
He chose force.
His temper had flared; he refused to be overpowered by some upstart.
After the collision, Kawata released a hook shot.
"Slap!"
Morishige's long arm came down like a guillotine, swatting the ball away.
"Tsk…"
Kawata turned, locking eyes with Morishige Hiroshi.
In that instant, an unmistakable rivalry was born.