During halftime, Nango secretly analyzed the situation.
Akagi, as a traditional center, relies on physically demanding post moves. With me pushing the pace all game, he's been forced to run more than usual. If this continues, his stamina will run out sooner, and once he collapses, the upperclassmen won't stand a chance. Victory will be ours.
That was the plan.
But plans rarely survive reality. As the second half wore on, Nango realized he had overlooked one crucial factor—the rookies' stamina.
Compared to the seasoned upperclassmen, the first-years still had less endurance. The faster pace only drained them faster. Soon, their footwork slowed, defensive gaps opened up, and Nango and Rukawa had to scramble to cover, exhausting themselves even more. Rukawa, usually stoic, was now gasping for air.
On offense, fatigue disrupted their rhythm. Shots missed, percentages plummeted, and the upperclassmen used the chance to chip away at the lead.
"Beep! Timeout—first-years!"
Nango called for a timeout, partly to rest, partly to regroup. The scoreboard read 76–66. Just a 10-point gap.
"Keep pushing! The rookies are already running on fumes. If we hold steady, we'll turn this game around!" Akagi's deep voice roared across the bench.
"That's right!" Kogure added, rallying his teammates. "We can't lose to them—it's about pride!"
On the rookies' bench, morale was low. Everyone's shoulders sagged.
But Nango laughed. "What's with the long faces? We've played brilliantly, forcing the upperclassmen on the back foot the whole way. We're still ahead, aren't we? Just a few adjustments, and this game is ours. Let's grit our teeth and finish strong!"
"…Nango-kun, I'll follow your lead," Ishii spoke first. Before this match, he never imagined he'd even contribute. Now, he was grateful for the chance Nango gave him.
"Yeah! Just tell us what to do," Kuwata said eagerly. Despite losing his role as main ball-handler, he deeply admired Nango's leadership.
One by one, the first-years voiced their trust. Even Rukawa stayed silent but met Nango's eyes, giving a silent nod of respect.
"Thanks, everyone. In that case…" Nango looked at Kuwata. "Kuwata, take a breather. We need a change on defense."
He then turned to the sidelines, eyes settling on a fiery red head.
"Sakuragi—interested in coming in?"
"Eh?!"
The bench erupted in shock. Sakuragi Hanamichi? The rookie who could barely dribble? The walking disaster?
"Hah! So you've finally recognized the great me!" Sakuragi puffed out his chest and laughed obnoxiously. "Leave it to this genius! Wahahaha!"
"Is he insane?" Takamiya muttered.
"Yeah," Noma agreed. "Choosing Sakuragi is basically throwing the game."
Okusu and Yohei kept quiet, but their faces said the same thing.
Sakuragi, annoyed at the silence, snapped, "Oi! Where's the gratitude? You should be thankful I'm saving you!"
Just then, Haruko shouted from the stands, "Sakuragi-kun, do your best!"
"Haruko-san!" Sakuragi's eyes turned into hearts. Everything else faded—only Haruko's encouragement remained.
Nango stepped in, steadying the atmosphere. "Don't worry. I believe Sakuragi will make an impact. Give him confidence."
"Impact?! What's that supposed to mean?" Sakuragi complained, but before he could press further—
Beep! Timeout over.
As they returned to the court, Nango leaned close and whispered, "Sakuragi, guard Akagi. On offense, if the ball's in the air—grab it and dunk it." He gave him a firm pat on the back.
"Ball… in the air?" Sakuragi muttered, confused.
The game resumed. Nango brought the ball up, probing the defense. Sakuragi flailed inside, calling for passes, while Akagi shadowed him lightly, almost daring the rookies to feed him the ball.
But Nango had a plan.
He drove past Yasuda with a sharp spin, forcing Akagi to rotate and block. Just as Akagi leapt, Nango shifted mid-air, threading a pass downwards—straight into Sakuragi's hands.
"Hahaha! My chance to shine! Witness the genius of Sakuragi Hanamichi!"
But instead of attacking instantly, he grinned, soaking in the moment.
By the time he jumped, Akagi had already landed and gone up again—BAM! A monster block, swatting both ball and Sakuragi straight to the floor.
The upperclassmen snatched the rebound and fired a long pass. A fast break, two-on-one, an easy layup. The score tightened.
Only 8 points left.