What should he do?
Before the game, Nango never truly feared Morishige Hiroshi. He believed that no matter how formidable the Fatty "Hiroshi" was, Akagi could at least hold him back enough for Shohoku to maintain control—score steadily, widen the gap, and secure the final victory.
Coach Anzai's pre-game plan was clearly built on this idea.
But reality had gone far beyond anyone's expectations.
Akagi had absolutely no power to retaliate.
Morishige Hiroshi's performance was no longer "dominating the paint"
—it was ravaging it.
Faced with this, Nango saw two possible paths.
1. Continue attacking the paint and try to foul Morishige out.
If they could force Morishige Hiroshi into early foul trouble, Meihou Industrial's threat would collapse instantly. With Shohoku's overall balanced roster, the game would tilt heavily in their favor.
But in a situation where they couldn't match Morishige's physicality, drawing fouls was nearly impossible. Unless Morishige was highly vulnerable to fakes—which he didn't seem to be—there was almost no chance.
Even Maki would struggle to force a 2+1 against him. The guy's stability under contact was monstrous.
If Maki had Naito's body, then maybe…
Nango concluded that only Kanagawa's two true "monsters"—
Maki Shinichi and Naito Tetsuya—
could overpower Morishige reliably.
He himself was a weakened mixture of both:
not as strong-willed at finishing as Maki,
not as freakishly built as Naito.
2. Outscore Meihou—win through firepower.
Morishige Hiroshi was an inside player.
Every basket he scored was only two points.
If Shohoku hit their threes, just two long-range shots could erase three of Morishige's successful possessions.
But this method was unstable—
it relied on shooting rhythm, spacing, and most importantly, rebounds.
Without rebounds, they'd just be digging a deeper hole.
After weighing everything, Nango made his decision.
He cut toward the right wing and raised his hand for the ball, with Horiuchida sticking to him like glue.
This guy could've shot after beating me, but he didn't. Instead he shot right in front of Morishige Hiroshi. Obviously trying to bait a foul. I can't let him do the same.
Despite being repeatedly burned by Nango's first step, Horiuchida stayed composed. He adjusted—no longer defending too tight, instead keeping a safe distance.
Nango immediately noticed.
Shooting a three wasn't impossible, but it didn't fit the strategy.
So he drove.
If he retreats, I advance.
A cross through the legs to his left hand—then a burst of acceleration.
Horiuchida shuffled quickly, trying to cut him off—
—but Nango blew past him again.
A behind-the-back dribble⁉
Horiuchida never expected someone of Nango's height to use such a move. By the time he recovered, Nango was already at the free-throw line.
Yesterday, Morishige Hiroshi was interested in crashing into Akagi.
Today, he had lost all interest.
His entire focus was now on Nango.
Akagi's current state didn't warrant his attention.
So Morishige abandoned Akagi once again and charged at Nango full force.
Mikoshiba watched in panic.
"Again? Didn't he learn from the last time?!"
Coach Murai sneered.
"This kid still doesn't give up? It's useless. Morishige won't lose to anyone in a collision."
"Slap!"
Nango pounded the ball off the floor, then gathered it and used a jump step to slip around Morishige's frontal defense.
Mikoshiba exhaled in relief—but Maki, watching from the other bench, quietly narrowed his eyes.
He sensed something.
Nango hadn't escaped completely—Morishige was too massive for that. All Nango managed was a shift from front to side. By the time Nango rose to shoot, Morishige had already turned and leapt to block.
But—
Morishige suddenly realized Nango hadn't jumped at all.
It was too late to pull back.
They collided at an angle.
Nango absorbed the hit and flicked the ball upward with his left hand.
"Beep!"
"Bang!"
Whistle first. Ball off the rim afterward.
Nango winced, rubbing his right shoulder.
"So damn heavy…"
He wanted a 2+1, but Morishige's sheer mass had warped his shooting form.
Maki chuckled from the stands.
"You've got a long way to go before you can do what I do."
Coach Murai's expression hardened. Relaxation vanished.
This was bad.
Barely five minutes into the game, Morishige Hiroshi already had one foul. If he picked up another, he wouldn't finish even the first half.
If that happened, Meihou might as well surrender.
Their defensive strategy had to change.
As Nango walked to the free-throw line, Okusu suddenly asked:
"Has anyone noticed? No one else on Shohoku has taken a shot today."
Takamiya stroked his chin.
"Now that you mention it… why? That's not like them at all."
The spectators were puzzled—but Kano trusted her boyfriend.
If Nango was doing this, he had a reason.
In previous games, Nango—ever the point guard—made sure everyone got early touches to find rhythm, while he limited his own shots.
But starting today, that approach wouldn't work.
From yesterday's game against Aiwa, it was evident:
Akagi was steadily declining.
Each opponent's inside strength was rising, while Akagi's offensive range remained limited. He was becoming too easy to target.
And today's Meihou—tomorrow's Sannoh—
both had interior strength far beyond anything Akagi could manage.
If they insisted on playing their old way, Shohoku would fall into a deep pit early on.
So Nango changed his role.
He would attack first.
Then lead the team.
The request he made to Coach Anzai in the locker room was simple:
"Unlimited shooting rights."
The team reacted badly—especially Rukawa Kaede.
He made the same request yesterday, and was benched today because of it.
They barely won yesterday as it was.
But Coach Anzai overruled everyone.
He chose to trust Nango's judgment.
When Rukawa heard the approval, he was stunned.
"Why can he and not me? Is passing the ball really that amazing?"
Even now, watching from the bench as Nango prepared to shoot his free throws, Rukawa seethed.
Nango could fire at will.
He could only sit and watch.
It was unbearable.
"Damn it… is being able to pass the ball really that amazing…?"