After agreeing to watch a game together sometime, Nango and Kano exchanged contact info, and their "date" came to an end.
But which game to watch? That was the problem.
Normally, it would make sense to scout future opponents. But looking at Shohoku's next matches, none were worth much.
Shoyo? As a seeded team, they only had one decisive match against Shohoku. Whoever won would enter the round-robin. No chance to watch them early.
Kainan? Same deal—they'd only play one game. Their opponent, Takezono, would be crushed even by Kaiho's second unit. Hardly worth scouting.
Ryonan? Another automatic win.
And Takesato? They were just there to make up the numbers in the round-robin.
In other words, there wasn't a single Kanagawa team worth studying closely. If anything, Nango thought it might be better to take Kano to watch the National Tournament in the summer—Daiei Academy in Osaka, Aiwa Academy in Aichi… That would be scouting worth doing.
But by then? Who knew if he and Kano would still be in touch. Not that he cared—he was convinced she wasn't interested in him, wallowing in his own straight-man delusion.
Days passed quickly. Soon it was the second round of qualifiers: Shohoku vs. Takezono.
Thanks to Shohoku's impressive first-round performance, powerhouse teams like Kainan and Ryonan came early to grab seats, eager to observe them.
Among them was Maki. His very presence lit a fire under Akagi. Though Akagi insisted every opponent was important, he knew the truth—Takezono couldn't stop Shohoku. What he really looked forward to were the battles against stronger teams.
Up in the stands, Kainan's rookie, Kiyota Nobunaga, eyed Nango, Rukawa, and Sakuragi with disdain.
He and Sendo had already watched Shohoku's last game from under the hoop. His conclusion? These so-called "rookie aces" were nobodies.
Nango Koichiro? Decent defense, but only bullying weaklings with athleticism.
Rukawa Kaede? Overhyped. Just another stat-padder on a weak team. He'd never make the starting lineup at a school like Kaiho.
Sakuragi Hanamichi? A total beginner, relying only on raw physique.
Compared to Shoyo, led by Fujima, Kiyota actually preferred facing Shohoku in the round-robin. That way, he could humiliate their three rookies at once and cement himself as Kanagawa's true No. 1 rookie.
He'd even thought of the headline:
"Strongest Rookie No Longer in Doubt?! 1v3! Kainan's Kiyota Nobunaga Stuns the Prefecture!"
While Kiyota daydreamed, the game began.
Shohoku's starting lineup had shifted—Miyagi in for Mitsui.
Mitsui wasn't thrilled, but accepted the decision. Shohoku's plan was obvious: overwhelm Takezono quickly while giving more players court time.
Still, Nango wasn't satisfied with Shohoku's rotation policy. In his view, everyone was part of the team. Why not use the bench more? If the starters hogged all the minutes, fatigue and injuries would pile up, and the younger players would never get meaningful experience. Once the seniors graduated, the whole team would collapse.
At tip-off, Akagi easily out-jumped his opponent. Miyagi grabbed the ball and, without hesitation, launched a one-handed pass. It cut through the defense straight into Rukawa's hands, already at the rim. Layup—two points.
"So fast!" Some spectators hadn't even sat down before Shohoku scored.
Maki folded his arms. "When Akagi went up for the jump, those three first-years were already sprinting forward."
Sendo nodded. "They knew Akagi would win it. Honestly, in Kanagawa, no one can consistently beat him on a jump ball."
Takezono regrouped, bringing the ball up.
Sakuragi was buzzing with excitement, itching to show off his defense. Perfect timing—Takezono's strategy was to test him.
He crouched low, arms spread, eyes locked on Takezono's No. 9. His defensive form was nearly textbook—thanks to Nango's training. But the real surprise was Sakuragi's rapid progress. He'd been grinding hard, and it showed.
On top of that, he flashed his trademark cocky grin, as if to say: Come on! Try me if you dare!
No. 9 froze. Sakuragi's stance was solid, but that hungry look? Downright unsettling.
"Why are you just standing there? Attack!" his coach barked.
Gritting his teeth, No. 9 finally drove right. To his relief, he slipped past Sakuragi.
So he's just bluffing! No. 9 thought smugly.
But his relief didn't last long—Akagi loomed under the basket, immovable like a mountain. Panicked, No. 9 pulled up for a jumper.
"Now!" Sakuragi lunged.
Beep! Foul!
Too eager. Instead of contesting cleanly, he smacked No. 9's hand.
Barely a minute in, and he'd already collected his first personal foul.
"Nice one, Sakuragi!" Only the Sakuragi Gang would cheer at a time like this. They'd even started betting on how quickly he'd foul out, and today was off to a promising start.
"Idiot! Be careful!" Akagi thumped his head, frustrated.
Nango quickly stepped in as good cop. "Don't worry, Sakuragi. You defended great at the start. Just… don't rush. Let him take the shot. With Captain Akagi back there, their percentage will stay low."
"Tch, I know." Sakuragi grumbled, embarrassed. He realized he'd overdone it, but the urge to show off had gotten the better of him.
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