Early the next morning, the future young talents of the Japanese Team gathered inside the Nittaidai Basketball Team's gymnasium, officially marking the start of the Youth Team training camp.
After sweeping his eyes across the crowd, Mitsui muttered quietly,
"This feels like we're playing the National Tournament all over again…"
And he wasn't wrong.
Most of the players present had already appeared on the biggest stage of this year's National Tournament. They were all familiar faces.
The centers included Big Kawata, Little Kawata, Akagi, Uozumi, and the monstrous rookie Morishige Hiroshi, who had left a deep impression during the tournament.
The power forwards included Sakuragi Hanamichi, Tsuchiya Atsushi, Sugadaira, Nobe, and Jin.
The small forwards were Rukawa Kaede, Sendo, and Fukuda.
The shooting guards included Mitsui, Moroboshi Dai, and Matsumoto.
The point guards were Nango, Maki, and Fukatsu.
In addition, Hakata Shodai Affiliated—one of the tournament's top four teams—had sent one shooting guard and one point guard, bringing the total number of participants to twenty-one.
Nango lowered his voice.
"Not that many people will stay. A team doesn't need this many players."
"So we might get kicked out halfway?" Sakuragi looked stunned. He had assumed he was already a guaranteed Youth Team member.
"Not necessarily," Nango shook his head. "But anyone eliminated here won't be coming back next time. Sakuragi, you and Akagi have the most pressure—there are too many competitors at your positions."
Centers and power forwards alone accounted for nearly half the roster. A real team wouldn't need that many big men.
Which meant most of the eliminations would happen there.
Sakuragi clenched his fists.
I must stay.
Standing before the group, Anzai Jitsurei wore a faint smile. But as his eyes swept across the players, his expression subtly shifted.
Their positions were… interesting.
Without realizing it, the players had naturally divided themselves into factions.
The Kanagawa faction stood together—Shohoku at the center, flanked by Ryonan and Kainan. Familiar faces naturally gravitated toward one another.
The Sannoh Industrial faction clustered on their own, five players standing tightly together.
The remaining players—Tsuchiya Atsushi, Moroboshi Dai, Morishige Hiroshi, and the two Hakata players—stood scattered, forming a loose neutral group.
Although they had met briefly in the dorms the previous night, the animosity from past matches hadn't faded.
Yesterday's enemies becoming today's teammates wasn't something emotions could adjust to so quickly.
It was also during last night that everyone learned Sawakita Eiji had declined the invitation—he was already on his way to America.
Anzai Jitsurei raised a stopwatch and smiled.
"We'll start with a warm-up. Ten laps around the court."
Akagi instinctively prepared to move—then stopped.
This wasn't Shohoku. This was the Youth Team.
So he simply observed.
Aside from Sakuragi—who was still completely clueless—not a single person moved.
They were waiting.
Anzai Jitsurei felt a headache coming on.
This group is already competing with each other… managing them won't be easy.
After a brief pause, he said,
"Shortest players in front, tallest in back. Fukatsu, please lead."
"Yes."
Fukatsu replied calmly, his poker face unchanged.
The other Sannoh players, however, couldn't hide the faint smiles on their faces.
Shohoku's side immediately bristled.
"Why let that loser lead?" Sakuragi muttered angrily. "We're the champions!"
"Quiet," Akagi warned.
Nango also tugged Sakuragi's jersey, signaling him to shut up.
An international-standard basketball court had a perimeter of 86 meters. Ten laps meant 860 meters.
For trained basketball players, it shouldn't have been difficult.
But Anzai Jitsurei hadn't taken out the stopwatch for nothing.
After just half a lap, he shouted,
"You can speed up! Don't worry about maintaining formation!"
The moment he finished speaking, Sakuragi Hanamichi exploded forward, instantly overtaking everyone and charging to the front.
"That idiot!" Akagi nearly lost his temper.
Once formation no longer mattered, the group immediately stretched out.
Guards surged ahead, interior players lagged behind—
Except for one.
Morishige Hiroshi.
Despite his massive frame and labored breathing, he stubbornly kept pace.
In contrast, Little Kawata had already fallen to the very back, his steps growing heavier with every stride.
Lap after lap, the differences became increasingly clear.
Sakuragi still held first place, his stamina seemingly endless. Only a few—Nango, Rukawa Kaede, and Maki—were able to stay close.
Mitsui, however, had already dropped behind Morishige.
Watching from the sidelines, Anzai Jitsurei let out a low whistle.
Unexpected… This Morishige Hiroshi really is a monster.
Soon, Sakuragi crossed the invisible finish line first. One by one, the others completed their ten laps.
When Anzai Jitsurei stopped the stopwatch, a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes—before quickly disappearing.
"Keep going! Just a little more!" he clapped, encouraging Little Kawata.
"Idiot! Hurry up!" Big Kawata barked as usual.
Little Kawata was so exhausted he couldn't even respond, forcing himself forward through sheer will.
After he finished, Anzai Jitsurei gently patted his back.
"Good job."
Then, without praising or criticizing anyone else, he spoke calmly,
"Alright. Warm-up is complete. We'll begin today's practice."
"Centers to that half-court. Shooting guards to the other side…"
He rapidly assigned players by position, setting up one-on-one drills. His intent was obvious—he wanted to assess the technical ceiling of each role.
"Oh—one more thing," he added. "Nango, go to the small forward group."
Seeing Nango turn toward the point guards, he immediately corrected him.
"Okay."
Nango didn't mind.
He had played point guard at Shohoku only because it was the team's weakest position. Here, with players like Maki and Fukatsu, he could finally unleash his offense—and even experiment at shooting guard or small forward.
That was exactly what Anzai Jitsurei intended.
He wanted to see Nango across multiple roles.
Although nearly half of the players would be eliminated, several names were already etched in Anzai Jitsurei's mind.
Nango. Morishige Hiroshi.
Even if they weren't starters yet, bringing them to international competitions for experience would be invaluable.
They were, after all, the future of the Japanese Team.
That was Anzai Jitsurei's deepest calculation.