Except for the four seeded teams—Shohoku, Meihou Industrial, Hakata Shodai Affiliated, and last year's champion, Sannoh Industrial—who had yet to appear, all the other teams had already played once.
The traditional powerhouses advanced smoothly without any surprises, but the real competition began today. The four seeded teams were finally set to debut, and the matches promised to be even more intense.
"Kishimoto! Teach that red-haired kid a lesson!"
"Minami! Take down those brats!"
"Just like yesterday—crush them!"
Toyotama's supporters, with their flashy hairstyles and loud mouths, cheered wildly. Their language was crude and aggressive—typical of delinquents.
"They're all Toyotama supporters?" Haruko asked hesitantly.
"They seem so rude…" Kano added, frowning.
This time, Kano and Eri decided not to sit separately. They stayed close to Haruko and the others, hoping that if anything happened, they could look out for one another. Seeing how hostile Toyotama's fans were, the girls grew nervous—not just for the result, but for Shohoku's safety on the court.
The Sakuragi Gang, however, was completely unfazed. They knew well that the Shohoku players feared no one—whether on the court or in a fight.
In the media section, Nakamura scanned the crowded stands and remarked, "I didn't expect so many people to come watch this game, Miss Aida. Are they here for Shohoku or Toyotama?"
It wasn't just the media section; the spectator stands were nearly full—an unusual sight. A large number of spectators were actually players from other tournament teams who came to observe.
Since the game hadn't started yet, Aida Yayoi took a sip of tea before replying, "Toyotama has always been a regular at the National Tournament. Even though they changed coaches, their style hasn't changed much. Compared to them, Shohoku is the real mystery. They're the ones who defeated the powerhouse Kainan team, after all. Naturally, everyone in the same bracket wants to see what they're capable of."
"I see," Nakamura nodded, enlightened.
"I see, my head!" Aida scolded. "Hurry up and write that down! You can use it for the post-game analysis!"
"The Shohoku players are really tall!"
"What do they eat to grow like that? It's scary…"
"Heh, if Toyotama can eliminate them, that would help us a lot, right, Tsuchiya?"
Hearing that, Tsuchiya Atsushi laughed heartily. Daiei Academy had played the earliest game of the day, finishing it in just half a match—utterly crushing their opponent to make time to watch this one.
Their teammate's joke wasn't baseless. Daiei Academy's style was a slow-paced, positional game. Facing a tall and powerful team like Shohoku would be difficult. If Toyotama could somehow take them down, Daiei would have an easy path to the next round.
When both teams stood at center court, the height difference became glaringly obvious.
Toyotama's lineup:
Center: Iwata Mitsuaki – 190 cm
Power Forward: Kishimoto Sanri – 188 cm
Small Forward: Minami – 184 cm
Shooting Guard: Yazaki Gyohei – 180 cm
Point Guard: Itakura Daijiro – 183 cm
Shohoku outmatched them in height across all five positions. Even at point guard, where Toyotama usually had the advantage, Nango stood taller and stronger.
But Toyotama didn't care. They liked it this way. The taller the opponent, the slower they were—that's what they believed.
Akagi and Iwata stood face-to-face at the center line, both staring intently at the referee's hand gripping the ball. Their calf muscles tensed like coiled springs.
At the same time, Nango, Rukawa Kaede, and Sakuragi exchanged sharp glances, silently communicating.
The referee tossed the ball.
Akagi waited half a beat, then leaped—tipping it perfectly toward Nango.
Rukawa and Sakuragi were already sprinting down the court in perfect sync, twin streaks of motion.
Slap!
Nango flicked the ball with one hand toward Sakuragi—who caught it mid-air and slammed it through the hoop with both hands.
"Th-that was so fast!"
"Amazing!"
"The red-haired guy and the number 11… they moved like lightning!"
"They cut through Toyotama's defense in an instant!"
Even those familiar with Toyotama's weaknesses were stunned. Shohoku's first basket—a stunning alley-oop—was both a statement and a warning: their place as a seeded team was no accident.
While retreating to defense, Nango and Rukawa exchanged another look.
Nango's eyes said: They're targeting you.
Rukawa's response was calm: I know.
Nango had passed to Sakuragi because he'd noticed Minami shifting early to cut off the lane to Rukawa—proof that Toyotama had done their homework.
"Damn it! That red-haired guy…" Kishimoto cursed. He knew that basket was his fault; he'd left Sakuragi too much space.
Minami turned and smirked, "Don't worry. We'll catch up fast. In fact, if they want to play at our pace, all the better."
Hearing that, Kishimoto grinned. "You're right. Why would we fear them in an offensive battle? Hahaha!"
But the game wasn't going to go their way so easily.
Toyotama's point guard, Itakura, hadn't even crossed half-court when Nango pounced—his defense fierce and unrelenting, as if it were the final play of the game.
Nango had never started a match this aggressively before, and Kogure couldn't help but ask, "Coach, is this how Nittaidai trains?"
Coach Anzai smiled knowingly. "It seems Nango knows Toyotama's style very well. Hohoho…"
Kogure didn't fully understand, but knowing it was part of Nango's plan reassured him.
Ayako, however, frowned. "Can Nango keep this up the entire game?"
Damn it! I don't believe you can defend like this all game!
Itakura struggled desperately, pinned to the sideline by Nango's suffocating defense. Every attempt to move was shut down by lightning-fast footwork.
He tried using his body to push forward, but Nango didn't budge an inch.
Itakura had never faced such a wall before.
"This guy… he's Shohoku's point guard?"
"Is he the Nango mentioned in the magazines?"
The spectators murmured, chills running down their spines. They could feel the pressure from where they sat.
"Itakura!"
Minami and Yazaki abandoned their formation and ran to help.
Seeing them approach, Itakura's eyes lit up. He held the ball tightly and prepared to pass.
But Nango's long arm shot out, startling him.
Itakura reflexively pulled the ball back.
Beep!
"Traveling!" The referee blew the whistle.
"Tch…" Itakura clicked his tongue in frustration, his composure starting to crack.
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