The timeout ended. Both teams returned to the court, tension simmering in the air.
Aiwa Academy sent Egawa Tatsuhoshi to inbound the ball.
Amamiya Hideyoshi and Aoba Yoshi positioned themselves on either side of the free-throw line.
Fukuoka Yuji stood ready at the top of the arc.
Under the basket, the focal point of Aiwa's offense—Moroboshi Dai—waited like a coiled spring.
Nango scanned the formation.
"Either they're running a screen to free Moroboshi… or they're using his gravity to open backdoor cuts."
Realizing the two most likely options, he shouted,
"Rukawa Kaede!"
Rukawa, guarding Egawa, turned.
Seeing Nango point toward Moroboshi, he nodded—he understood.
Aiwa's big men would screen for Moroboshi.
Nango might not be able to squeeze through.
So the plan was simple: Rukawa switches onto Moroboshi, and Nango circles around to take Egawa.
The referee confirmed everyone was set.
He handed Egawa the ball.
Instantly, Moroboshi dashed out, shoving Nango aside before sprinting to the perimeter.
Despite the shove, Nango recovered quickly—but as expected, Aoba Yoshi stepped in to block his path before he reached the free-throw line.
Nango abandoned the chase.
Rukawa had already rotated.
So Nango broke off, following the plan and jumping to cover Egawa.
Moroboshi caught the pass cleanly.
Rukawa was there, but there was no time to hesitate.
Moroboshi lowered his body and drove hard.
Amamiya Hideyoshi rushed over, setting a perfect screen.
Rukawa crashed into it, unable to slip through.
Akagi reacted instantly, stepping up aggressively to contest.
Moroboshi didn't think—
his body simply responded.
A quick bend at the waist, a push with his foot—
He slipped past Akagi and attacked the basket.
Seeing Sakuragi charging behind him, Nango shouted desperately:
"Don't foul!"
Whether Sakuragi heard him was uncertain.
He didn't slow down at all.
Moroboshi sensed him approaching.
He cupped the ball in his left hand and flicked it upward with force.
Please go in…
He had done everything he could.
The rest depended on luck.
Sakuragi leapt, fingertips grazing the air—
but the ball flew just beyond his reach.
After landing, Sakuragi immediately turned to box out, bracing for the rebound.
From his angle, the ball looked like it would sail over the backboard—
but instead, it struck high on the glass, dropped…
"Swish!"
The net rippled softly.
The arena burst into murmurs:
"As expected of the 'Star of Aichi,' Moroboshi Dai…"
"I thought the red-haired guy was going to block it!"
"He actually made that…!"
A high-difficulty shot, under immense pressure, at a critical moment—
Moroboshi's skill left everyone stunned.
But the game wasn't over.
Aiwa still trailed by 4.
The possession had burned 10 seconds.
1 minute 19 seconds remained.
Shohoku inbounded.
Aiwa continued their full-court press.
Nango received the ball.
Moroboshi and Fukuoka instantly closed in.
This time, Nango used his height to lob the ball over them to Miyagi.
Miyagi sprinted into the frontcourt and stopped past half-court, intent on draining the clock.
But Aiwa wouldn't allow it.
Egawa rushed in, trying to grab or wrap him up.
Miyagi darted away like a rabbit, weaving across the court.
He was eventually caught, but not before killing 15 precious seconds—
and earning a trip to the free-throw line.
If he made both…
Shohoku could all but seal the win.
Pressure tightened on Miyagi's shoulders.
Nango hesitated, then stepped forward and said gently:
"Don't think about anything.
Just shoot like you always do."
He patted Miyagi's back.
Miyagi exhaled slowly, nodded, and stepped to the line.
Players lined up.
Spectators held their breath.
Miyagi bounced the ball three times.
Raised it.
Shot.
"Clank!"
It hit the back of the rim—
then dropped in.
Everyone on Shohoku exhaled in relief.
Aiwa's shoulders collectively slumped.
But one free throw remained.
Miyagi repeated the routine.
"Swish."
Two for two.
Shohoku back up by 6.
This time, the Aiwa players' expressions collapsed into despair.
No timeouts remained.
They inbounded from the baseline.
Fukuoka pushed the ball up.
Moroboshi ran off-ball desperately.
Inside the paint, Aoba and Amamiya no longer bothered fighting for position—
they sprinted around setting screens for Moroboshi.
But in their haste—
Aoba moved too wildly.
The referee noticed.
"Beep! Illegal screen!"
Aoba froze, hands on his head—stunned.
Moroboshi had just caught the ball and was turning to shoot when the whistle stopped him cold.
He could only surrender the ball to the referee.
The fact that their deadliest shooter never got the chance to fire…
It was a cruel blow.
Their belief cracked.
Coach Sakaguchi closed his eyes and whispered,
"…It's over."
But Moroboshi refused to give in.
There's still a chance! If I can steal this—there's still a chance!
Shohoku inbounded to Nango.
Moroboshi lunged, stretching out desperately.
"Slap!"
A loud smack echoed.
But it wasn't a steal.
It was a foul.
"Beep!"
Moroboshi stood frozen.
"…It's really over this time."
Nango rubbed his arm where he was hit and muttered gloomily:
"Great… game's already over, and I still get smacked…"
But the outcome was decided.
Shohoku won this dramatic battle and advanced to the National Semifinals.
And barring any surprises, their next opponent would be the greatest dark horse of the tournament—
Meihou Industrial, led by the monstrous center Morishige Hiroshi.