Early the next morning, as soon as Nango stepped into the classroom, a crowd gathered around him.
"Nango! Your performance yesterday was amazing!"
"Yeah! Miuradai's No. 9 didn't stand a chance against you!"
"But, Nango," another classmate asked curiously, "why didn't you attack more yourself?"
Before Nango could answer, Kumaji Shode jumped in, "Idiot! Nango's a point guard, not a shooting guard."
"But he clearly had chances!" the other boy argued. "He could've scored more if he wanted to."
Nango only smiled, calmly putting his schoolbag down before replying. "Because our team already has plenty of scorers. My job is to make sure they get the ball in the right place."
Basketball wasn't simple arithmetic, nor was it about throwing the best players into five positions and expecting the strongest team. Maximizing everyone's strengths—that was the real challenge, and one that constantly weighed on Nango's mind.
Shohoku had Akagi, the anchor in the paint. Mitsui, the deadly outside shooter. Rukawa, the rising ace. Even Sakuragi, who now contributed consistently each game.
Too many weapons. If he dribbled and shot too much, it would only disrupt the balance.
Of course, if he kept suppressing himself like this, it wouldn't be good for his own growth either. For now, he could only hope to find a better solution in training or future games.
The prefectural tournament schedule had one game per week. Shohoku's next opponent was Kakuno High, a team a tier below Takenozono—weak, to put it simply.
They'd advanced only because they faced an even weaker team in the first round. Against Shohoku, they posed no real threat.
So practice continued as usual. No special strategies, no targeted drills—just daily routine.
Mitsui, still not fully recovered, rested for a day. His movements lacked strength, and it was clear he'd need more time before returning to form. Nango worried about him, but there was nothing he could do. Stamina could only be rebuilt through Mitsui's own effort.
Sakuragi, on the other hand, came in like a raging bull. Having fouled out the previous game, he now tried to dunk every ball, throwing his energy around recklessly. The substitutes trembled whenever he came near.
Nango finally stepped in. "Calm down, Sakuragi. It wasn't the hoop that fouled you out yesterday."
But Sakuragi was still fuming. "That referee was totally targeting me! I clearly touched the ball! I didn't touch that stinky monk's hand at all!"
Nango raised both hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I believe you. But your movement did look like a foul."
That only made Sakuragi puff up more, eyes wide with indignation. He was about to launch into another rant, but Nango cut him off.
"Think about it, Sakuragi. Even if that one call was unfair, with the way you rack up fouls, do you honestly think you wouldn't have been fouled out later anyway?"
Sakuragi froze. He had been so focused on blaming the final whistle that he hadn't considered the bigger picture. Reluctantly, he admitted to himself that Nango had a point.
"…Hmph! Maybe, but that bastard referee still made the wrong call!"
Seeing him calm down, Nango smiled. "So you get it now. Whether that call was right or not, you were bound to foul out eventually. Don't dwell on it. I'll teach you how to control your fouls."
Sakuragi's eyes lit up instantly. "Great! Teach this Genius now!"
Nango pulled him aside and began explaining patiently.
"First, defense doesn't mean you need a steal or a block every time. As long as the opponent doesn't score, it's a successful stop. Make them uncomfortable—that's half the job done.
"If the player is good at driving, force him into jump shots. Or bait him into Akagi's zone for a double-team.
"If he's good at shooting, stick close. Don't give him space. Wave your hand in front of his vision, interfere with his rhythm. You can even do this—"
He raised a hand and demonstrated covering Sakuragi's line of sight.
"Remember! Don't gamble on steals or jump at every fake. Stay grounded. These are basic strategies, but once you gain more experience, you'll refine them yourself."
Nango folded his arms, speaking with confidence. "This won't make you a defensive master overnight, but it'll reduce your fouls and let you stay on the court longer."
"I see! Covering their eyes!" Sakuragi grinned, clearly remembering only that part.
Nango felt a sudden pang of regret. "Just don't poke anyone's eyes out…"
Still, he believed Sakuragi had the physical gifts to become a great defender if he focused. Against weaker players, even Sakuragi's raw athleticism was enough. Against stronger opponents, no advice could help just yet.
In training, Sakuragi immediately put his new "move" to work. He waved his hand in every shooter's face, disrupting them so badly that shooting percentages tanked. Even Nango himself was forced into a few misses.
Every victim glared at him, but Nango pretended not to notice.
Meanwhile, Sakuragi puffed out his chest, hands on hips, laughing. "No one can stop the Genius Sakuragi now! Wahahahaha!"
As usual, the Sakuragi Gang had come to watch practice.
After seeing Nango patiently teaching, Takamiya sighed. "Nango really is amazing. He's the only one who can get Sakuragi to listen."
Okusu shook his head. "Don't get carried away. Sakuragi's only acting obedient because he needs him. Give it a couple days and he'll be back to normal."
Noma frowned. "…Don't you think Sakuragi's starting to act more like a normal person?"
Yohei chuckled. "That just means he's finally fallen in love with basketball."
The others exchanged a glance, then smiled. Maybe it was time they found something for themselves, too.
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