Nadaka Hikaru wiped the sweat from his brow and shook his head. "Shohoku is truly an excellent team. Akagi… he's the real deal. I underestimated them far too much before."
His straightforward admission left the rest of the locker room in awkward silence.
Admitting defeat while the game wasn't even over yet? That was practically boosting the opponent's morale while killing their own.
Yet if they didn't admit it, the scoreboard and the situation on the court left them no room to argue.
Mike sighed, lowering his head helplessly. Not only was the team trailing, but their morale had sunk to rock bottom. In hindsight, choosing Shohoku as their first opponent was a serious mistake.
Thinking that, Mike's gaze drifted toward Eri, who sat quietly on the bench. He assumed she was depressed out of guilt, so he spoke gently, "Eri, this isn't your fault. We just aren't strong enough yet. But don't worry—I've decided to stay. Until this team wins the championship, I won't go back to America."
The rest of Ryokufu turned to look at Mike with complicated expressions. Many of them had privately wondered whether Mike had returned to seriously help them contend for the Winter Tournament—or just for a few exhibition games.
Now, it seemed he truly wasn't on the same wavelength as they were.
That realization made the atmosphere even more uncomfortable.
"Huh? Ah… okay." Eri snapped back to reality and replied absentmindedly.
She wasn't even thinking about the game anymore. Her thoughts were already on what would come after the match.
If her plan succeeded, Ryokufu would definitely make a splash by the time of the Winter Tournament.
As for Mike's promise to stay or leave… that could wait.
Meanwhile, Shohoku's bench was relaxed and cheerful. The players sat together, chatting casually.
Mitsui leaned back, resting his chin on his hand. "Nango, Ryokufu's strength is way below what you told us."
Nango shrugged. "Honestly, I didn't expect it to be this bad. With their current level, they'd be lucky to reach the top eight in the Prefectural Tournament."
Akagi nodded, analyzing the situation calmly. "Roughly. They're stronger than Miuradai and Tsukubu, but still weaker than Shoyo. Their individual skills are fine, but as a team, they lack cohesion."
Nango stretched, letting out a small yawn. "Scattered, they're stars. Gathered, they're just a mess. Mike Okita only returned recently, so they probably changed their tactics to fit him—but it looks like they overdid it."
Everyone thought about it and agreed that Nango's reasoning made perfect sense.
"Coach Anzai, should we make any adjustments for the second half?" Akagi asked as the break neared its end.
Coach Anzai's calm eyes swept over the starting five. "In the second half," he said, "I'd like you to lead the bench lineup."
Nango and Mitsui instantly understood.
Against any team's starters, Shohoku's first five would never be at a disadvantage. But what would happen once they started rotating players?
The National Tournament schedule was far more intense than the Prefectural one. To go the distance, they needed to manage their main players' minutes wisely. Shohoku had to find a rotation setup that would keep their competitiveness steady, even when the bench came in.
The problem was—except for Miyagi and Kogure—the substitutes were still too weak.
Coach Anzai smiled faintly at the puzzled players and began to reveal his plan.
When the second half began, Coach Ofune frowned at Shohoku's lineup. "Coach Anzai is making substitutions this early?"
Normally, teams would stick with their starters right after halftime.
But both Ryokufu and Shohoku were deviating from that convention.
For Ryokufu, Ebina had been completely suppressed by Nango, so they brought in the Tsurumi Brothers to organize their offense.
But Shohoku's decision to do the same thing left them stunned.
They're using us to test their lineup? The thought irritated Ryokufu's players.
Fueled by that frustration, Mike strode to the mid-court line. This time, he once again won the jump ball against Akagi.
Coach Anzai had replaced the less physically fit Mitsui and Rukawa with Yasuda and Kogure. The Tsurumi Brothers immediately felt the change—the defensive pressure had clearly dropped.
Finally, the elder brother, Seiji, could control the ball and organize the offense properly.
Shohoku's reduced height also weakened their interior defense.
The brothers exchanged glances. The younger one, Keiji, ran forward to set a screen.
Yasuda and Kogure hesitated, both instinctively double-teaming Seiji. Seeing the opening, Seiji slipped a pass through the gap.
Keiji caught it, took one dribble, and pulled up for a mid-range jumper from the free-throw line. Swish. The ball went cleanly through the net—a perfect start to Ryokufu's second-half offense.
Yasuda and Kogure exchanged uneasy glances, clearly flustered.
Nango walked over with a grin. "Seniors, they're twins. Same height, same build. Next time they run a pick-and-roll, just switch—it doesn't matter who you're guarding."
"Eh?!" The two blinked in realization, then awkwardly laughed. "You're right."
"Alright, our turn on offense." Nango smiled and jogged to his spot. His simple advice had eased their nerves considerably.
Yasuda brought the ball past half-court and glanced toward Nango, who pointed inside. Yasuda passed it in.
Akagi received the ball. The others spread out, clearing the paint entirely for him.
Nadaka Hikaru braced himself. He knew he couldn't match Akagi's strength, but he wasn't about to back down. This was a rare chance to learn from a powerhouse center.
After a short battle of strength, Akagi easily overpowered him and executed a smooth hook shot. Swish. Another two points.
From there, both teams kept playing the same rhythm—Ryokufu relying on the Tsurumi Brothers' chemistry, Shohoku scoring through Akagi's dominance inside.
The game's pace evened out, with the point difference unchanged.
Coach Anzai silently observed. Then, standing up slowly, he made another adjustment—subbing Akagi out for Rukawa Kaede to rest.
Nango shifted positions again—this time, he was the center.
Shohoku regained possession. Yasuda hesitated for a moment; both Rukawa and Nango were signaling for the ball.
Trusting Nango, Yasuda passed to him.
Nango caught it, turned to face the basket, and used his shoulder to nudge Nadaka Hikaru aside. He faked a drive to the middle, then suddenly accelerated along the baseline.
Nadaka reacted fast but turned too slowly. Nango blew past him effortlessly and finished with a smooth reverse layup.
From the bench, Mitsui cracked open a drink and muttered, "Nango's always so composed. He can score against anyone—his skill set's just too complete."
Akagi nodded firmly. Since Nango had joined Shohoku, he'd been a constant source of surprise.
And yet, even now, they still couldn't see where his limit was.
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