The upperclassmen stuck to their strategy—feed the ball to Akagi. If he could score, perfect. If not, they'd improvise.
But the freshmen had adjusted. Nango returned to the paint to guard Akagi, Rukawa locked down Kogure on the perimeter, and Sakuragi roamed as a help defender inside the three-point line.
"Listen," Nango instructed Sakuragi quietly. "Other than Akagi and Kogure, anyone else who touches the ball—he's yours."
Kogure's offense was simple, and Rukawa's physical gifts made guarding him straightforward. That gave Rukawa a breather to conserve stamina. As for Sakuragi, though raw and inexperienced, his natural athleticism made him perfect for help defense. Truthfully, the upperclassmen lacked a strong ball-handler outside of Akagi, so the freshmen could focus elsewhere.
From the very beginning, Nango's plan had been simple: push the pace and make Akagi run until exhaustion.
On defense, he deliberately ordered his teammates not to waste energy contesting Akagi's baskets. Let him score two. We'll run him down eventually.
But now, with only three minutes left, the game had tightened. Every possession mattered. Akagi couldn't be ignored anymore.
Nango fronted him aggressively, refusing to allow an easy entry pass.
Yasuda, tasked with running the offense, struggled. Nango's wingspan was suffocating, and every angle to Akagi was cut off. He dribbled, waited, searched—precious seconds bled away.
By the time Shiozaki bailed him out with a desperate three-pointer, the shot clock had nearly expired. Somehow, against the odds, it banked in.
"Tch… really?" Nango exhaled. All that effort stopping Akagi, only for a prayer three to drop. "I'd rather give up two than watch that go in." Still, thirty seconds had been burned. That was a win in itself.
The score gap was seven. Two and a half minutes remained. The upperclassmen had a sliver of hope.
But Nango had already decided. It's time to finish this.
Until now, he had been playing with composure, never showing his full hand. Yasuda noticed it first—Nango's expression shifted, his casual demeanor replaced with steely focus.
He still has gas left? Yasuda thought, panicked.
In the next instant, Nango exploded forward, leaving Yasuda behind in a blur. The lane opened, and only one man remained between him and the rim—Akagi.
This time, Nango didn't dodge. He attacked head-on.
Bang! Bodies collided in mid-air. Akagi's massive hand smacked down, striking Nango's arm, but the freshman didn't lose control. Gritting his teeth, Nango forced the ball up as gravity dragged both players to the hardwood.
The basketball kissed the rim, bounced once, twice… and dropped through.
Swish!
"Beep! Red Team number 4, shooting foul! Basket counts—one free throw!"
"Brother!" Haruko cried, rushing forward. Akagi's fall looked brutal.
"Oh my god… Nango actually clashed with Captain Akagi head-on…"
"Are they okay?" Ayako was the first to recover from the shock, hurrying over.
Akagi groaned but waved his teammates off. "I'm fine. Help me up, Kogure." With his vice-captain's aid, he stood, though his pride was heavier than his body.
Nango, sitting and rubbing his thigh, gave a tired grin. "I'm good too. Just need a breather." Akagi's strength had left him sore, but not broken.
Akagi stared at him in disbelief. Nango Koichiro… this monster reminds me of… him.
Rukawa's sharp eyes never left Nango. For the first time, he acknowledged someone as a rival on his own team. "Not ordinary at all…" he muttered.
Even Sakuragi was stunned. "That guy… he still scored?!" For the first time, he felt the allure of basketball's challenge. But in his heart, he swore—if Nango can do it, I'll do it too. Just give me time.
Nango calmly stepped to the line and drained the free throw, restoring the lead to double digits.
From there, the script was simple. The upperclassmen kept feeding Akagi; the freshmen kept feeding Nango. The difference held. When the final buzzer sounded, the freshmen emerged victorious.
[Game Mission Accomplished][Reward: "Training" Module Unlocked]
The system prompt flashed in Nango's mind, but there was no time to dwell on it. His teammates mobbed him, grinning ear to ear. They didn't rub it in too hard out of respect for their seniors, but the joy was undeniable—except for Rukawa, who stood stoic as always.
"Hahaha! Bow before me!" Sakuragi crowed. "The genius Sakuragi carried you all to victory! No need to thank me too much—it's only natural!"
No one argued. They just smiled.
"Big idiot," Rukawa muttered.
"What'd you say, fox?!"
"Enough." Nango cut in with a grin. "Everyone played great. This win belongs to all of us."
The freshmen cheered again, but across the court, the upperclassmen were silent.
Akagi sat with his head low. The loss burned. He didn't doubt his strength, but his leadership. Beaten so thoroughly by a group of rookies… what had his two years of effort even amounted to?
"Captain." Kogure laid a hand on his shoulder. "Don't overthink it. You gave everything. It's just a practice game. And remember—they're our teammates, too."
"Kogure…" Akagi's chest loosened, but the sting didn't fade completely. He glanced once more at Nango, surrounded by freshmen, and said nothing.
On the sideline, Coach Anzai's lips curved into the faintest smile. Nango Koichiro… to find such a talent at my age. Looks like I'll have to work harder too.