After the brief conflict, the game resumed.
Sakuragi stepped up to the free-throw line and coolly made both shots.
Nango quietly observed from the side. Sakuragi's free-throw motion had become smooth and automatic — clear evidence of the solid foundation he had built over the past month. The redhead hadn't wasted his time at all.
Shohoku inbounded the ball. Nango took possession and lobbed it to Sakuragi once more. This time, though, Sakuragi's position wasn't as deep as before.
He didn't attempt a spin move or any fancy footwork. Instead, he turned his back toward the basket, ready to post up.
Sakuragi stared at Kishimoto, his thoughts burning with determination.
This guy isn't just trying to provoke me… he's aiming to injure me.
Hmph! I won't give you that chance. I can still beat you head-on!
Kishimoto, on the other hand, was reading him carefully. He was certain Sakuragi wouldn't try the same drive again — not after what happened earlier. He'd be cautious this time.
With that in mind, Kishimoto pressed even tighter on defense.
Faced with such close coverage, Sakuragi faked a drive, took a quick step sideways, and rose for a mid-range jumper.
"Hmph… not that easy," Kishimoto sneered as he discreetly tugged at Sakuragi's jersey.
The pull threw Sakuragi slightly off balance, and his shot clanked off the rim.
Akagi, however, dominated the paint. He shoved past Iwata Mitsuaki and grabbed the offensive rebound. Just as he went up for a putback, Iwata swung hard, smacking Akagi's arm.
"Beep! Shooting foul!"
Akagi glanced at the red mark blooming across his forearm, his brows furrowing.
Are these guys from Toyotama getting desperate already?
His guess wasn't entirely wrong. Toyotama was getting desperate — but the rough play was also part of their plan. They wanted to disrupt Shohoku's rhythm through physical fouls and drag the game back into their preferred chaotic pace.
Unfortunately for them, even these dirty tactics couldn't close the gap. Toyotama simply couldn't score consistently. The difference in physicality was too great, and Shohoku's defense completely smothered them.
"Even if the game's gotten ugly, it's obvious Shohoku's way above Toyotama," one reporter muttered in the media seats.
"Yeah," another agreed. "Their defense is on another level — especially that first-year, Nango Koichiro. Hard to believe he's just a freshman. How terrifying will he be by his third year?"
"With that body? He could play college ball right now," a third chimed in. "In high school, it's like he's bullying kids."
"And that redhead — Sakuragi Hanamichi — he's been great too, though that foul definitely rattled him."
"Can't blame him. That was a nasty hit."
"Still, Shohoku's something else. With Akagi in the middle and rookies like Sakuragi and Nango, they're going far this year."
"Looks like we're heading toward a Shohoku vs. Sannoh final."
"Not so fast. Meihou Industrial also advanced after beating Aiwa Academy. They're no pushovers either."
During halftime, the reporters were already drafting their headlines. The story practically wrote itself — a dominant Shohoku and another Toyotama collapse. If they wanted a deeper angle, they could always write another think-piece about why Toyotama could never break past the national top eight.
Even Toyotama's loyal fans were losing interest. As the score gap widened, the once-raucous stands fell silent. Many supporters left in disappointment, unable to stomach the sight of their team being crushed.
Those who stayed simply stared blankly at the court, stunned. The same Toyotama team that had obliterated Magunishi just yesterday… was now being dismantled by Shohoku, a supposed underdog.
They hadn't come all the way to Hiroshima just to watch their team be humiliated.
"These guys are disgusting! When they can't win, they resort to dirty tricks!"
Sakuragi glared at the red marks on his arm, his temper flaring. He wanted nothing more than to headbutt every Toyotama player — but of course, that wasn't possible.
Akagi clenched his towel in frustration. "It's shameful that a team like this is ranked A-class… just like us."
As the team's anchor in the paint, Akagi had taken the most punishment. His arms were covered in red welts.
Toyotama's play grew rougher and more reckless with each possession. Even though the referees kept blowing their whistles, Toyotama didn't seem to care. The constant contact and fouls wore on Shohoku's patience — and their bodies.
Nango, however, saw it coming. He knew his teammates weren't the type to endure such treatment quietly. So he turned to Coach Anzai and said calmly:
"Coach, leave me on the court. I'll deal with them."
The others froze in surprise.
Mitsui frowned. "Nango, this isn't a joke. We might be leading now, but letting you handle them alone is too risky."
Nango smiled confidently. "Senpai, don't worry. I won't let them catch up that easily."
Mitsui opened his mouth to argue — How can you play against five guys by yourself? — but stopped short. His junior wasn't the type to boast meaninglessly.
Could he really pull it off?
If he could, that would be downright terrifying. Toyotama was a national powerhouse… and yet Nango was offering to handle them alone?
Unaware of Mitsui's doubts, Nango continued. "Besides, everyone else can rest. If Toyotama really has what it takes to come back, we'll crush them in the final five or ten minutes."
He said it so casually, so matter-of-factly, that no one could find a proper rebuttal.
In the National Tournament, arrogance could mean disaster — but Nango's calm confidence was infectious. They wanted to see what he had in mind.
"No way! I'm not sitting out!" Sakuragi snapped. "I still have a score to settle with that ponytail bastard!"
Rukawa, who'd barely played so far, quietly stepped forward as well. There was no way he was going to sit on the bench now.
Coach Anzai chuckled softly. "Ho ho ho… Very well. Akagi-san, Mitsui-san, please rest for now. Kogure-san, Miyagi-san — I'll leave the rest to you."
"Don't worry, Coach! Leave it to me!" Miyagi grinned, flashing a thumbs-up as his earring glinted under the lights.
It was finally his time to shine. He'd waited too long for this — his first real taste of the National stage.
And besides, he still owed Itakura a little "extra payback." The guy had already been humiliated by Nango, but Miyagi didn't mind adding insult to injury.
Kogure, meanwhile, looked a little uneasy. While Nango and the others made Toyotama seem weak, Kogure knew better. They were still a strong team — and he didn't want to be the one to drag Shohoku down.
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