"What in the world is Sannoh doing?! Letting a first-year dunk like that?! Are they putting on a circus show?!"
"Brother, calm down. They didn't do it on purpose…"
"What do you mean not on purpose?! This is Sannoh Industrial! A team aiming for four consecutive championships! Do they even want to win today?! Is Domoto asleep?! Hurry up and come up with a plan!"
Complaints gradually erupted throughout the stands.
Many of Sannoh's die-hard supporters were already losing patience. Watching a first-year from Shohoku dominate the paint again and again was simply unacceptable to them.
All of these voices reached Coach Domoto's ears.
Already under immense pressure because of Nango, the noise only made him more irritable. He gritted his teeth and muttered under his breath,
"These spectators are so damn loud… but they're right. We must adjust."
Fukatsu pursed his lips and waved for his teammates to gather around him.
After quickly scanning everyone, he spoke decisively:
"Mikio—when you're defending, just protect the basket. Guard the paint. Don't wander."
"Yes…"
"Masashi," Fukatsu continued, "move up to the high post. We can't let Nango build momentum. Once he gets up to speed, no one can stop him."
"Understood."
Big Kawata nodded. He had been thinking the same thing. With Mikio stationed in the paint, Akagi—whose offensive range was limited—would be restrained. That freed him to focus entirely on cutting off Nango's drives.
Fukatsu then turned to Sawakita.
"If Shohoku keeps running pick-and-rolls, ignore Sakuragi or the screener. You and Masashi double-team the ball-handler immediately."
"I get it."
Although Sawakita's expression showed some impatience, Fukatsu didn't have the luxury of indulging him. He only hoped Sawakita would follow the plan.
With the adjustments settled, Fukatsu dribbled the ball up the court.
Like Nango, he preferred initiating offense from the top of the arc. From there, his vision was widest, and both drives and passes were easy to execute.
While directing his teammates' movement, Fukatsu subtly observed Rukawa Kaede's defensive stance.
After being exploited earlier, Rukawa stepped up aggressively, attempting to interfere with Fukatsu's passing lanes.
Fukatsu wasn't surprised.
Compared to Nango, Rukawa Kaede was far easier to deal with.
Rukawa was excellent in one-on-one situations, but he didn't fully grasp how a point guard thought. He was far too susceptible to feints.
Fukatsu raised the ball above his head with both hands and turned his head slightly to the left, making a clear passing motion.
Rukawa instantly shifted left to cut it off.
But Fukatsu's left hand didn't apply any force—it merely stabilized the ball. The real push came from his right hand.
The ball shot straight down the middle.
Sawakita received it once again.
Although Nango managed to slip past Big Kawata's off-ball screen this time, he was delayed for just a split second—more than enough for Fukatsu to complete the pass.
The timing was flawless.
As Sawakita moved, he pulled Akagi toward him. Both Akagi and Nango locked onto Sawakita as he caught the ball, turned, and raised it as if to shoot.
Both defenders stepped forward.
Sawakita smiled faintly.
With a casual flick of one hand, he passed the ball to the side.
Kawata Masashi caught it cleanly—
—and slammed it home.
Another simple piece of small-scale coordination.
And once again, Shohoku's defense was torn apart.
Coach Takato whispered softly,
"It seems Sannoh has found Shohoku's weakness."
"Weakness?" Kiyota asked, confused. "I don't see one."
Maki thought for a moment before answering,
"Is it their man-to-man defense?"
"Exactly," Takato replied, nodding with satisfaction.
"Many of Shohoku's players—like Mitsui—only joined recently. They don't have the time to develop complex defensive systems like veteran teams.
"So they rely on simple, easy-to-execute man-to-man defense. It fits their stubborn personalities too."
"As long as everyone guards their man, there aren't many problems," Maki continued.
"And even if someone gets beaten, Akagi and Sakuragi provide help defense."
"But—" Takato smiled thinly.
"Against a team like Sannoh, which excels at small-scale cooperation, mismatches and defensive gaps become inevitable."
"So now," Maki concluded,
"Sannoh is attacking Shohoku's most critical weakness."
"I see…" Kiyota finally understood.
"Then what should Shohoku do?"
Takato gently fanned himself.
"Just watch. Coach Anzai will make his move soon."
Beep!
"Shohoku calls a timeout!"
Coach Anzai glanced at the clock. Four minutes remained until halftime.
This was the perfect moment—not only to rest players, but to launch a decisive adjustment.
Sakuragi stomped toward the bench, cursing loudly,
"Damn it! If it weren't for that meatball man—!"
Without Sakuragi's help defense, Shohoku's interior was under tremendous pressure. Akagi alone struggled to keep up with Sannoh's constant cuts and coordinated movements.
Nango patted Sakuragi on the shoulder.
"You've done well. If Mikio charges in recklessly, we'll be in real trouble. Just focus on him—we'll handle the rest."
Sakuragi's anger subsided instantly.
"Don't worry! He won't take even one step into the paint!"
Once seated, Coach Anzai spoke calmly:
"Akagi-san, please rest for now."
"Miyagi-san, go in and take control of the ball."
Both nodded without hesitation.
With Akagi off the floor, Nango would move inside.
Coach Anzai's intention was clear—use Nango's mobility and reaction speed to disrupt Sannoh's small-scale cooperation.
On offense, Nango would also shoulder the load. Even while playing inside, Miyagi often sought his guidance.
For the next few minutes—
Nango would carry Shohoku on both ends of the floor.
Coach Domoto observed Shohoku's substitutions and nodded slightly before turning to his team.
"Just as expected. Shohoku subbed out Akagi and brought in Miyagi," he said calmly.
"Fukatsu will decide our offense based on the situation. Prioritize our pre-game plan."
"Understood," Fukatsu replied.
Domoto trusted Fukatsu's judgment completely and refrained from micromanaging the offense. Instead, he focused on defense.
"If necessary," Domoto said firmly,
"double-team Nango at all costs. We cannot allow him to continue performing like this."
It was nothing short of a military order.
Shut down Nango—no matter the price.
However, not everyone agreed.
Sawakita clenched his fist.
"Coach… is that really necessary? Just leave that kid to me. He won't get away again."
Masashi Kawata nodded as well.
"Even if Sawakita struggles, we'll help. Do we really need to go that far?"
Coach Domoto shook his head.
"Nango is the source of Shohoku's confidence," he said firmly.
"Though he's only a first-year, his role is no different from yours—or Fukatsu's."
"As long as we shut down Nango," Domoto concluded,
"Shohoku will collapse—without a fight."