Everyone in Toyotama knew without a word how crucial this possession was.
This was one of their few clean fast-break opportunities, and if they executed perfectly, they might just be able to wrest control of the game's rhythm.
Minami advanced quickly down the left side. Kishimoto and Iwata Mitsuaki cut toward the middle, while Itakura and Yazakigyouhei filled the right lane. Their spacing was textbook—precise, disciplined, and a testament to both Coach Kitano's system and years of rigorous training together.
"Rukawa Kaede! Don't let him pass! Everyone else, stick to your man!" Nango barked from under the basket.
If he were still the point guard, he would've chased Minami himself, cutting off the passing lane and trapping him along the sideline. But as the center now, his priority was to lock down the paint and trust Rukawa to handle the front line.
"Got it, you're so noisy!" Rukawa snapped back, irritation in his voice—but his eyes were already locked on Minami.
Still, he didn't fully understand Nango's warning. The real danger wasn't Minami's drive—it was his pass.
As expected, under Rukawa's tight defense, Minami abruptly stopped and fired a sharp pass to Kishimoto cutting through the middle. Kishimoto caught it, drove hard—only to find Nango waiting.
At the last second, Kishimoto kicked it out.
Yazakigyouhei, who had barely played all game, slipped into the corner, caught the ball cleanly, and shot right over Kogure.
"Please go in…"
That single thought echoed through every Toyotama player's mind.
Swish!
The ball fell through the net.
"Yeah!"
Toyotama erupted, cheering as though that shot had completely turned the tide. They slapped hands, shouted encouragement, and sprinted back on defense, energy restored.
Nango exhaled softly. "Phew… as expected, man proposes, God disposes."
Miyagi's recent choices had pulled the game away from Nango's ideal plan. He had intended for Shohoku to dominate completely. Now, all he could do was adjust.
"Senior, there's no need to get worked up. We've got this game. Don't let them get in your head," Nango said calmly.
"It's because we're going to win that I'm mad! That guy's mouth is just too much!" Miyagi muttered, fuming.
He forced a deep breath. "Mm, I know."
Nango shot him a look, uncertain if Miyagi truly meant it. If he didn't cool down soon, Nango was already considering taking control himself—or having Yasuda come in to steady the team.
Miyagi brought the ball up past half-court, scanning the floor.
"You just got lectured by your junior, huh?" Itakura sneered. "How pathetic. Want me to let you take a shot?" He spread his arms mockingly.
Miyagi's teeth clenched. Words failed him. Fortunately, Nango flashed to the top of the key, calling for the ball. Miyagi gladly passed it off and stepped away.
"Again?"
Seeing Nango raise the ball above his head, Iwata Mitsuaki immediately moved up to contest. He knew by now that if he didn't, Nango could actually make the shot.
But just as Iwata lunged, Nango pulled the ball back, drove toward the lane, drew Kishimoto's help defense—and dished the ball to Sakuragi.
"Slam!"
Sakuragi soared in and hammered it down with both hands.
"So those two earlier threes were just to pull out their center…" Mitsui murmured, eyes narrowing.
"But why?" Akagi frowned. "We've got the advantage inside. Why not keep attacking there?"
"This might look strange now, but…" Coach Anzai smiled knowingly, "keep watching."
Back on defense, Toyotama ran a clean set. Yazakigyouhei set a firm screen, giving Itakura space to attack. Kogure, forced to switch, couldn't keep up with the burst and could only watch as Itakura hit another easy jumper.
That shot made something click for Toyotama—they had found a weakness. The two reserve guards Shohoku had subbed in were their soft spot.
"Damn it… still not good enough…"
Kogure wiped sweat from his brow. The half had barely started, yet his nerves were fraying. He couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't belong on this stage.
"Senior, it's just one basket. Don't overthink it—get it back on offense," came Nango's voice from behind him.
Kogure turned, but Nango was already sprinting up the court. He glanced at his palm and muttered, "Can I really do it…?"
At the top of the arc, Nango once again called for the ball. Miyagi passed it to him, and Shohoku reset.
This time, Iwata didn't take any chances. He stuck to Nango like glue, completely abandoning his post in the paint.
Minami and Kishimoto shifted their focus to Sakuragi, convinced he'd be the next target. Why else would Nango clear the inside so obviously?
"Here it comes…" Kishimoto whispered, crouching low, ready to pounce.
The moment Nango lifted the ball, Kishimoto stepped back, preparing to intercept the pass.
But the ball didn't go to Sakuragi.
It zipped straight to Rukawa Kaede, who had cut backdoor behind Minami's blind spot. Rukawa caught it mid-stride and finished with a smooth layup.
"Tch…"
Minami clicked his tongue in frustration. Getting burned like that—by his own defensive lapse—stung badly.
Toyotama's players were equally irritated, but no one dared scold him. After all, he was their ace.
Next play, Toyotama attacked the same weakness again. After another pick-and-roll, Itakura simply blew past Kogure and sank another shot.
On the following possession, Nango caught Miyagi's eye and gave him a subtle nod. Miyagi immediately drove inside, drawing both Minami and Itakura toward him.
"Now," Nango thought.
As Miyagi jumped, he dumped the ball baseline to Rukawa, who slipped free again and scored easily.
From the bench, Mitsui suddenly stood. "I get it! Nango's not abandoning the paint—he's using it! The space he creates lets us cut and move freely. Whenever someone gets open, his pass finds them instantly!"
Coach Anzai chuckled, eyes glinting behind his glasses.
"It may look simple, but it takes perfect timing and trust. Chemistry like that isn't easy to build."
And Nango—tall, calm, and precise—was the perfect anchor to make it work. His passes weren't just accurate; they were lightning-fast, slicing through defenders like cannon fire.
All Shohoku had to do was move, react, and seize the moment.
This was the system Nango had spent long nights refining at Nittaidai—the answer to Shohoku's ball-handling woes.
He envisioned this team as his own version of the two-time champion Miami Heat.
He was James.
Rukawa was Wade.
And Sakuragi… well, Sakuragi would just have to make do as Bosh.
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