Aiwa Academy launched their attack. Moroboshi moved to receive the ball and advance, but Nango, still carrying the sharp presence of a point guard, pressed him tightly in the backcourt.
Moroboshi wasn't afraid—at least, not at first. He caught the ball and began to dribble, confident in his control, but soon realized he had underestimated Nango's defense. Breaking through that wall of pressure was no easy task.
He twisted, feinted, and tried to accelerate, but Nango's footwork was impeccable. Even when Moroboshi managed to slip by momentarily, Nango instantly recovered his position.
With no clear route, Moroboshi seized the first small opening he saw and sprinted past half-court. Nango stayed close behind, forcing him to keep pushing forward. To avoid being caught, Moroboshi didn't stop to set up—he lowered his head and drove straight toward the basket.
Seeing this, Sakuragi rushed over to intercept, but Moroboshi's speed carried him past in a flash. Akagi stepped up too late, and Moroboshi finished with a quick layup.
After scoring, he turned toward Nango with a smirk.
"Stick that close if you want—does it even help?"
He turned away with a cold snort.
Nango didn't get angry. Instead, he smiled faintly.
"Please," he murmured, "keep performing."
On Shohoku's next possession, Nango went back to backing down Egawa. The latter was at a loss—if he used too little force, he'd be pushed under the rim; too much, and Nango would just spin off him. Desperate, Egawa placed his hopes on Aoba's help defense.
As Nango stepped toward the restricted area, Aoba moved in to double-team. Amamiya Hideyoshi rotated quickly to guard Sakuragi, and for a moment, Nango seemed trapped. Yet he still chose to turn and take the shot.
It missed.
But Nango had anticipated that. With both Sakuragi and Akagi under the rim, he trusted the rebound would be Shohoku's.
The ball bounced high. Underneath, Sakuragi, Amamiya, and Akagi all leapt at once.
Amamiya used his long reach to tip it, while Sakuragi—quicker and higher—forced another deflection. The ball flew upward again.
When all three landed and leapt for a second time, Sakuragi's explosiveness finally made the difference. He snatched the rebound out of the air.
"Why can that red-haired monkey jump so high?!" Amamiya thought, dumbfounded.
"Nango!" Sakuragi shouted, tossing the ball his way.
Nango caught it, faked a jump to bait Amamiya into the air, then rose only after Amamiya landed, slamming home a powerful dunk.
Amamiya wiped sweat from his brow and muttered, "These two first-years are monsters… this game's still not going our way."
Moroboshi felt the same. Nango's offense was nearly unstoppable. If Aiwa relied only on Aoba's help defense, Shohoku would continue grabbing easy rebounds—a death sentence in a comeback attempt.
If they wanted to protect the boards, everyone would have to collapse inside… but that would give Mitsui open looks on the perimeter.
After a moment of hesitation, Moroboshi decided to suggest a Box-1 defense to Coach Sakaguchi: assign a man to shadow Mitsui, and leave Miyagi open to test his shooting.
It was a familiar strategy—many of Shohoku's past opponents had done the same, underestimating Miyagi's scoring threat due to his size and role.
On Shohoku's next possession, Miyagi dribbled up slowly, with Fukuoka pressing him only after half-court. Stamina was waning on both sides, and the less-conditioned players had started conserving energy.
To avoid another double-team, Nango set a solid screen, freeing Miyagi for a drive into the paint.
Fukuoka was caught. Miyagi blew past Egawa in a flash, heading straight inside.
Aoba Yoshi stepped up, ready to cut him off and force a difficult shot. But instead of driving all the way, Miyagi pulled up for a mid-range jumper.
It missed—but not by much.
The ball bounced short, flying toward Aoba's side. His heart leapt as he turned to grab it—
but before he could react, a red blur appeared before his eyes.
Sakuragi Hanamichi soared up, snatched the rebound, and with a second quick jump, banked in the layup!
"Sakuragi! That was awesome!" Yohei shouted, arms waving from the stands.
Sakuragi grinned, flashing a victory sign in Yohei's direction—though his eyes soon drifted toward Haruko.
Haruko hesitated, cheeks flushed, and gave a small, shy wave before quickly lowering her head.
Noma leaned toward his friends. "Hey, don't you guys think Haruko's acting kinda weird today?"
Takamiya scratched his head. "Weird? How?"
Okusu blinked. "Actually, yeah! Normally she'd be cheering like crazy for Sakuragi, but she hasn't said a word!"
Yohei frowned thoughtfully. "That's true… in every game, she's either cheering for Rukawa or worrying about Akagi. Why's she so quiet this time?"
Takamiya crossed his arms. "Yeah, what's going on with her?"
Meanwhile, in the stands of another match, Kiyota was frowning. "What are those Aiwa guys doing?! Losing so many rebounds? How are they supposed to win like that?!"
Coach Kouzu and Maki exchanged glances. After a pause, Kouzu said, "Kiyota, Aiwa didn't lose those rebounds unfairly."
Maki nodded. "Look closer. The game's been going for thirty minutes. Aoba's stamina has dropped, and he's conserving energy now.
But look at Sakuragi—he's still moving like it's the first quarter. His stamina is on another level."
Kiyota, full of his usual fiery pride, refused to admit it. "Tch, I could do that too," he thought, though he stayed silent. Deep down, he hoped Aoba would stop Sakuragi soon—just to humble that red-haired show-off.
But Sakuragi didn't care about any of that. He only knew one thing—this was his moment to shine.
For the next few minutes, he ran and jumped relentlessly, battling for every rebound and loose ball. His boundless energy completely disrupted Aiwa Academy's defense.
With Nango commanding on offense and Sakuragi dominating inside, Aiwa was forced into constant rotation errors. Shohoku tore their defense apart.
The scoreboard read 78–65. Shohoku led by 13 points, with just four minutes remaining.
Under normal circumstances, the game would already be over.
But in Moroboshi Dai's eyes, there was neither despair nor fear.
Only determination.
He wasn't done yet.