With his stamina fully recovered, Nango took possession of the ball again.
That also meant the game had officially entered its final stage.
"Rukawa Kaede did very well earlier," Coach Takato said with genuine admiration. "He bought Nango a lot of time."
Much like Coach Taoka, Takato couldn't help but envy Shohoku for landing such a terrifying first-year talent. Compared to this, even Kiyota's explosive athleticism felt lacking.
Maki spoke solemnly, "Now it depends on whether Sannoh can withstand this final wave from Nango. If they can't… then the game is already over."
"Huh?" Kiyota blinked. "Maki, do you mean Nango's going to do it himself?"
Maki nodded. "Yes. Sawakita is Sannoh's last card. If Nango can suppress him directly, everything ends here."
A middle-aged reporter in the press box sighed deeply.
"I never imagined two first-year freshmen could challenge Japan's number one at their very first National Tournament…"
Aida Yayoi smiled faintly.
"Wasn't Sawakita the same last year? He was also a first-year then. Uncle—times have changed."
On the court, Nango dribbled forward decisively.
Sannoh immediately sent Sawakita to defend him—exactly what Nango had anticipated.
Good.
The stage is set.
"As long as I deal with you here," Sawakita said calmly, spreading his arms and lowering his stance, "I can go to America without regrets."
"I already told you," Nango replied evenly,
"You're not going to America."
"We're winning this game."
The moment the words fell, Nango's right foot exploded off the floor.
He shot forward like an arrow.
Sawakita reacted instantly, sliding to block the lane—but as Nango closed in, he extended his left arm, brushed Sawakita aside, and used the rebound force to surge forward even faster.
Sawakita staggered.
He could only watch Nango's back pull away.
A clean case of eating dust.
Against Sawakita, Nango didn't need fancy moves.
Raw force was enough.
Big Kawata stepped up near the free-throw line. He knew double-teaming wouldn't stop Nango—but even slowing him down for a split second mattered.
Kawata leaned in hard, trying to shove Nango off his line.
It didn't work.
Nango lowered his head and kept charging.
With his brother in position, Little Kawata finally committed, stepping up as the last line of defense.
Three defenders.
Front. Side. Rear.
Nango gathered the ball anyway.
All four leapt simultaneously.
It was a breathtaking sight.
Nango flicked the ball high with his right hand.
For a moment, Sannoh thought—
A floater?
But Matsumoto, standing outside the arc, saw it clearly.
The trajectory wasn't toward the rim.
It was drifting—
"Bang!"
Sakuragi caught the ball with one hand in midair and slammed it down viciously.
A one-handed alley-oop dunk.
"Tch…"
Sawakita clicked his tongue.
"So it was a pass. I thought you were really going to force it."
Boring.
Nango didn't retreat with his teammates.
He stood calmly near the baseline, waiting.
Since Sawakita had chosen to guard him, then they might as well settle it properly—on both ends.
Sawakita wouldn't pass the ball back to Fukatsu to reset anyway.
"…Interesting."
Sawakita smiled.
He dribbled toward Nango, calm and deliberate.
Unlike Fukatsu, he wasn't going to rush.
He wanted to win with skill.
Let me see how terrifying this so-called full-court press really is.
Nango lowered his stance to match Sawakita's, left arm sealing the space, right arm raised high.
His body completely enveloped Sawakita.
His feet never stopped moving.
Every dribble Sawakita took was squeezed, disrupted, compressed.
Sawakita tried the same method Nango had used earlier—shielding with his arm, moving sideways, advancing carefully.
It was slow.
But safe.
The moment they crossed half-court—
Sawakita twisted his hips and prepared to explode.
Nango slid instantly.
Body to body.
A dull collision.
The stronger body won.
Sawakita's acceleration died on the spot.
This bastard…!
He's strong—just like Kawata!
Sawakita tried again.
Denied.
Again.
Denied.
Once the ball crossed half-court, that line became a wall.
Nango lowered his right hand, using his body to herd Sawakita backward—step by step—toward the sideline.
The referee retreated alongside them, eyes locked on Sawakita's feet.
One more step.
One more—
Damn it…!
I underestimated him!
Sawakita twisted desperately, trying to escape.
Every attempt was sealed off.
He had speed.
He had skill.
But he had already given the rhythm away.
"Sawakita! Over here!"
Fukatsu and Matsumoto rushed up to receive the ball.
But Mitsui and Rukawa Kaede mirrored them perfectly, shadows glued tight.
A risky pass meant a turnover.
"Kawata!"
Forced, Sawakita leapt and fired a hard pass toward the free-throw line.
"Who do you think you're passing to with that elementary-school throw?!"
Sakuragi burst forward, lunging for the interception.
Kawata turned instantly, using his back to shield the ball.
Too late.
"Bang!"
Sakuragi crashed into him and fell.
Kawata stumbled two steps forward.
"Beep!"
"Blocking foul!"
The referee pointed decisively.
"What?!" Kawata exploded. "He ran into me!"
"…What did you say?"
The referee's face darkened.
Fukatsu rushed over immediately, grabbing Kawata.
"Stop talking! Hand up—now!"
"Tch…"
Kawata raised his hand unwillingly.
In the stands, the Nittaidai trio shook their heads in unison.
Endo spoke calmly,
"If Sannoh loses, it will largely be because of Sawakita's arrogance. He cared too much about individual victory and ignored the team's rhythm."
Coach Kawasaki disagreed slightly.
"But that competitiveness is also why he's their ace. Without it, he wouldn't have reached this level."
Hyuga Yuichi smiled.
"He still has a long road ahead. Losing here will temper him."
On the court, Sawakita licked his dry lips.
So this is what it feels like…
Being defended until you literally cannot move.
There really is always someone stronger.
Fukatsu looked at him seriously.
"Sawakita. Remember what you said earlier? You said you'd settle things after we overtook them."
"…I remember."
Being reminded of his own words only made it worse.
Sawakita clenched his fists.
Annoyed.
Frustrated.
And—for the first time—
Truly pressured.