Just as Moroboshi stepped forward to take the ball, Akagi stood beneath the basket and shouted with commanding force:
"Four minutes left! Defend every possession! Keep our formation! Stay sharp!"
"Hoo!"
The Shohoku players roared back.
A 13-point lead wasn't safe yet—not in a national tournament. One collapse, one sudden run, and everything could flip. Shohoku needed to stabilize, burn time, and convert every chance they got.
Earlier in the game, Nango had pressured Moroboshi from the backcourt, forcing him to expend energy with every dribble. But now that exact same risks could trigger chain breakdowns. Instead, Nango held back, guarding tightly only after Moroboshi crossed half-court. That reduced Moroboshi's sprinting space and kept the defense intact.
This guy's defense is getting irritating…
Moroboshi clenched his teeth. Nango's physical ability—his reach, footwork, and reaction speed—made every move a chore. Breaking through him required precision, patience, and far too much energy.
But Aiwa had no time. With the clock ticking down, a two-pointer wouldn't do. Only threes could save them.
Moroboshi faked a drive, retreated, and passed to Egawa—then immediately darted closer.
Nango pursued.
Egawa and Moroboshi executed a hand-off at the right wing. Egawa moved forward just enough to form a "human wall," momentarily delaying Nango.
Against Mitsui—a fellow third-year—Moroboshi felt far more relaxed. He slid sideways, picking up speed.
"Damn it… Not now…"
Mitsui's legs felt like lead. His stamina was close to empty. He reached, but Moroboshi was already drifting out of his range.
Moroboshi caught, gathered, and rose for the shot.
The ball spun in the air.
Under the basket, the big men panicked, but Moroboshi gave them no time.
Swish—swirl—drop.
The ball fell through after circling twice.
Aiwa cut the lead to ten.
Ayako whispered, "Coach… Mitsui-senpai can't keep up. Should we sub in Kogure or Rukawa Kaede?"
Coach Anzai nodded.
"Rukawa Kaede, warm up."
"Yes."
Rukawa removed the towel from his head and stepped aside to stretch—silent but burning.
Ayako watched from the side, silently cheering him on.
Shohoku inbounded. Miyagi advanced and lofted a pass to Nango.
Shohoku needed two things now:
Kill the clock, and keep scoring.
Normally, this role would go to Rukawa Kaede, but he was still on the bench—so the responsibility fell to Nango.
Nango dribbled smoothly, eyes calm, feet steady. Egawa crowded him, careful but tense. He knew he couldn't stop Nango alone—his job was simply to slow him down and wait for Aoba's help.
Aoba, meanwhile, kept one eye on Nango even as he wrestled with Sakuragi for position.
Moroboshi also drifted closer, ready to pounce the moment Nango initiated.
Nango checked the shot clock: 13 seconds.
He waited.
Aoba crept closer.
Moroboshi crept closer.
The defense tightened like a net.
When the clock hit 8, Nango exploded off the dribble toward the middle.
Moroboshi and Aoba immediately abandoned their matchups and closed in to double.
Nango was ready.
Just as Moroboshi closed in, Nango whipped the ball to Mitsui on the perimeter.
A gamble.
A dagger.
If Mitsui hit it, the game would be finished.
"Bang!"
The shot rimmed out.
Amamiya Hideyoshi fought ferociously for the rebound, jumping twice before finally snatching it.
Aiwa exploded into their counterattack.
Fukuoka sprinted up the middle.
Egawa and Moroboshi blitzed down both sides.
The twin towers trailed behind—they had no time to wait.
Nango didn't look at Fukuoka or Egawa.
His eyes were locked solely on Moroboshi, planting himself firmly between the two.
But Moroboshi, deceptively quick, used a series of rapid fakes to create a small gap—then shoved off with both hands and darted toward Fukuoka.
Another hand-off.
Moroboshi caught the ball and immediately rose up over Miyagi.
"Swish!"
Pure. Deadly.
Aiwa cut the gap to 7 points.
And finally—
Rukawa Kaede checked in, replacing the exhausted Mitsui.
Only Miyagi remained as Shohoku's question mark on defense.
Shohoku attacked again. Miyagi gave the ball to Nango. Even though Rukawa was back on the court, giving him control now was too risky. He had just returned, mentally shaken and out of rhythm.
Nango held the ball outside mid-range, waiting as the clock drained.
Aiwa couldn't afford patience. Egawa lunged recklessly for the steal, abandoning proper distance.
A mistake.
Nango burst forward and tossed a floating shot over Aoba.
"Seriously…!"
Coach Sakaguchi nearly cursed aloud. Egawa's impatience nearly doomed them.
Fukuoka pushed the ball again.
He crossed half-court and waited at the top of the arc for Moroboshi.
Moroboshi sprinted toward him—then suddenly cut back sharply, shaking off Nango for a moment.
Fukuoka passed.
From a full step beyond the three-point line, Moroboshi fired.
He wasn't fully confident—too far, too risky—but he had no choice.
The ball arced.
Rotated.
Fell—
"Bang!"
Off the board.
"Slap!"
Off the rim.
"Swish!"
And finally—through the net.
The arena gasped.
Moroboshi nearly fell to his knees.
Unbelievable… but it went in.
Aiwa Academy was still alive.
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Merry Christmas Everyone! 😘🎄🥳