"Sawakita! Dribble penetration—stop and shoot—another one!"
Commentator Fujiwara shook his head in disbelief.
"He really is the ace! He's practically unstoppable! Shot after shot—he just doesn't miss!"
Once again, Sawakita forced his way through, scoring over the double-team of Rukawa Kaede and Nango.
From the audience's perspective, it was breathtaking—tough, fearless, completely dismissive of defense.
From the players' and coaches' perspective, the shot selection was questionable.
But no one could deny the result.
Sawakita Eiji was still the most reliable ace on the floor—the undisputed number one high school player in Japan.
As for the two defenders involved, Rukawa Kaede felt a trace of discouragement.
Nango, however, remained calm.
Keep shooting like that, he thought. If you can keep making them, I'll admit defeat.
Nango understood what Sawakita was doing.
To avoid being blocked, Sawakita was attacking at full power—jumping higher, shooting faster, forcing every possession. Each basket came at the cost of enormous physical effort.
That kind of output couldn't last forever.
If this continued, Sawakita's efficiency would inevitably drop, and once that happened, the momentum would swing decisively toward Shohoku.
Unless—
Sannoh finds another way to score.
But at this point, whether Sawakita was still willing to follow the team's system… was uncertain.
"Phew…"
Rukawa exhaled slowly, finally steadying his breathing.
Just as he was about to cross half-court, Nango—dribbling beside him—called out,
"Hey. You bring it up."
Rukawa froze.
"…Me?"
Nango nodded with a grin.
"This way, that guy won't know what you're planning anymore."
Rukawa glanced at Sawakita, then took the ball from Nango's hand and began advancing.
"No way! Are you serious?!" Echizen grabbed his head.
"Is Nango insane? Letting Rukawa Kaede run the offense?!"
Sendo leaned forward, eyes shining.
"He really knows how to mess with people."
The move sent a ripple through the arena.
Even Coach Anzai—normally immovable—was visibly surprised.
His intention had only been for Rukawa to learn how to pass, to use his scoring threat to activate the team.
He had never imagined turning Rukawa into a primary ball-handler.
That was an entirely different challenge.
But the game was already in motion.
Anzai could only watch, trusting the players on the court to find their own answer.
As Rukawa dribbled up, Nango stayed parallel with him, ready to help if Sannoh attempted a full-court press.
Back in middle school, Rukawa had brought the ball up alone—against five defenders.
But this wasn't middle school.
His teammates were no longer liabilities.
After crossing half-court, Rukawa hesitated and glanced at Nango.
Nango smiled calmly.
"Just play your game."
Then he stepped forward and set a screen.
Sawakita slipped around it instantly, and together with Fukatsu, closed in to pressure Rukawa.
The decision was simple.
Rukawa lofted the ball forward.
Nango caught it in stride and charged straight into the paint.
With no one stationed outside the restricted area, it became a wide-open runway.
Seeing Nango storming in, the Kawata brothers—guarding opposite sides of the basket—both chose to retreat.
Big Kawata hesitated for a split second.
Then stopped.
"Bang!"
Nango hammered the ball home with a one-handed power dunk.
67–59.
Shohoku led by eight.
Ten minutes remained.
The gap wasn't overwhelming—but closing it would not be easy.
Fukatsu understood this clearly.
We can't keep trading two-pointers, he thought.
We need threes—and we need to rein in Sawakita's isolations. He's getting reckless again.
Soon after, Fukatsu waved Matsumoto off, signaling him to attack instead of feeding Sawakita.
"Tsk…"
Sawakita clicked his tongue, clearly displeased—but he complied.
Matsumoto passed to Little Kawata, shoved Mitsui aside, used the screen, popped out to the left wing, received the return pass—
And shot.
The window wasn't large, and there was barely time to adjust.
But the ball went in.
Rukawa brought the ball up again.
Nango mirrored him, completely killing Fukatsu's thoughts of a full-court press.
This entire game, Fukatsu had felt suffocated.
Not only was his own play limited—many of his tactical ideas simply couldn't be executed.
…Are we really going to lose today?
The thought surfaced—just for an instant.
But that instant was enough.
Nango didn't know what crossed Fukatsu's mind—but he sensed the hesitation.
He slid to the wing.
Rukawa delivered the pass immediately.
"Fukatsu!"
Big Kawata's shout snapped him back to reality.
Too late.
"Swish!"
Nango's long-range shot hit cleanly.
Is he tired? Coach Domoto frowned. No… that shouldn't be it.
In all his years, Fukatsu had never made such a basic mistake.
Domoto turned toward the scorer's table, ready to call timeout—
But Fukatsu waved him off.
Coach Domoto hesitated, then stopped.
One more possession, he decided.
Sannoh attacked again.
Matsumoto repeated the same action—but this time, instead of shooting, he took advantage of Mitsui stepping up and drove.
Sakuragi rotated instantly.
Matsumoto forced the layup—
But Akagi came over as well.
The ball bounced off.
With Shohoku's bigs stepping out, the Kawata brothers sealed inside position perfectly.
"Bald Gorilla! You're not getting it!"
Sakuragi leaped first, tipped the ball high, jumped again and again—
And finally knocked it into his own space.
"Thwack!"
Nango stormed in and secured the rebound.
"Ahhh! Nango! You're shameless!" Sakuragi screamed in frustration.
"Fast break!"
Nango whipped the ball out to Rukawa on the perimeter and sprinted ahead.
Kawata chased desperately.
"Stop them!"
Sawakita stayed glued to Rukawa, certain he could strip the ball the moment he shot.
But Rukawa didn't force it.
He hugged the sideline, dribbled to just inside the three-point line—and stopped.
He turned his head.
Nango had just crossed half-court.
Passing lane—open.
Sawakita lunged to cut it off.
In that instant—
Rukawa dropped his stance and exploded forward.
Sawakita reacted—but Rukawa already had half a step.
"Bang!"
Rukawa stormed into the paint and slammed the ball home with one hand.
"Slap!"
Sawakita's momentum carried him into Rukawa's arm.
"Beep!"
The whistle blew.
And just like that—
Shohoku led by ten.
And Rukawa was heading to the free-throw line.
But the meaning of the play went far beyond the score.
Nango walked over and high-fived him.
"Now he really can't guard you anymore," he said with a grin.
"Your stage starts here."
Rukawa—rarely—smiled back.
"No problem."
"…Damn it."
Sawakita stood there, fists clenched.
For the first time—
His confidence had begun to shake.