"Huh? Is Shohoku really sending in their bench players already? Isn't that too early? This is the National Tournament!"
"No, not all of them. They still have three first-year starters on the floor."
"But still, that's risky! Shouldn't they just finish the game in one go?"
"Maybe they're trying to test their depth. You can't rely on just your starting five to go all the way."
"True enough. Let's see what the rest of Shohoku can do."
The media and the spectators were equally stunned by Shohoku's sudden adjustment.
But on the Shohoku bench, there wasn't an ounce of hesitation. The players' eyes burned with determination—they were ready to crush Toyotama completely as the second half began.
Meanwhile, Toyotama's bench looked grim.
The team was trailing badly, their dirty tactics had failed, and morale had plummeted. The locker room at halftime had been a disaster—filled with bickering and frustration. Even worse, Coach Kinpei hadn't stopped nagging, which only sparked another argument and worsened the mood.
Now, sitting on the bench, Coach Kinpei looked completely defeated. He knew it was over. Forget about reaching the Top 8—they couldn't even make it to the Sweet Sixteen. Their so-called title of "Osaka's Number One" was gone. Once they returned, the school would surely fire him.
And yet, a part of him still simmered with resentment. This team had never truly been under his control.
He had once thought his players were simply talented high schoolers who just needed a gentle guiding hand.
But now he realized how wrong he'd been. If only he had established authority from the start—made an example of someone early on—things might have been different.
Too late for that now.
Coach Kinpei slumped back, resigned to waiting for his final game as Toyotama's coach to end.
Up in the stands, Coach Kitano watched quietly, sighing. "Kinpei's really given up, huh? What a shame… But still, Anzai's team is something else."
His gaze fell back on his former disciples below. The players who had once trained under him now played with arrogance and recklessness. They had forgotten everything he'd taught them—and that thought filled him with regret.
As the second half began, Nango walked to center court for the jump ball.
Iwata Mitsuaki frowned. Can this guy really play center? Or is he just jumping for the tip-off?
Whatever the case, the referee tossed the ball up—and Nango soared. He easily out-jumped Iwata, tipping the ball cleanly to Miyagi.
Shohoku immediately settled into their offense. Sakuragi and Rukawa were tightly marked, leaving no open lanes to cut through. They had to play it slow this time.
After the jump, Nango positioned himself near the free-throw line and raised his hand for the ball.
Miyagi prepared to pass—but Itakura smirked and taunted,
"That's right, pass it over! A shrimp like you can't do anything. Just hand it off to your junior!"
Miyagi's expression darkened. He glared at Itakura, then suddenly exploded past him with a burst of speed—no hesitation, no fancy moves, just pure quickness.
He's so fast!
Itakura couldn't react in time. Speed had never been his strong suit, and Miyagi left him eating dust.
Fueled by anger, Miyagi drove straight into the paint, forcing Iwata Mitsuaki to step up from his position guarding Nango. But Iwata's footwork was too slow—he could only watch as Miyagi streaked by.
Kishimoto rotated over to help, throwing Toyotama's defense into complete disarray.
At this point, Miyagi had an open passing lane. He could've dished to an open teammate—but his frustration pushed him to finish it himself.
He went for a layup.
"Slap!"
The ball hit the rim and bounced high. Kishimoto's help defense had just barely thrown him off.
"Rebound!" Minami shouted, already backing away to trigger a fast break.
Kishimoto and Iwata quickly boxed out for the rebound, securing prime position under the basket.
Sakuragi, slightly out of position, refused to give up. He scanned for an opening.
The ball dropped—
And suddenly, Nango rose behind Iwata Mitsuaki, reaching higher than anyone else.
"Swish!"
He tipped the ball straight into the basket.
A collective gasp rippled through the stands.
"Damn it! Iwata!" Kishimoto barked. "Box out properly! Don't let those two rookies grab another offensive rebound!"
Iwata clenched his teeth. "I know…"
Itakura dribbled the ball up, still running his mouth.
"I told you to pass, didn't I? But no—you had to show off. What happened? Your junior had to bail you out! Aren't you ashamed, shorty?"
Miyagi smirked coldly. "Funny, I don't recall you being able to stop me."
"Huh? Did that happen?" Itakura replied innocently, feigning ignorance.
"...Tsk!" Miyagi's patience thinned.
Itakura knew exactly what he was doing. He'd figured out Miyagi's weak point—his sensitivity about his height—and he kept poking at it. Fast or not, he thought smugly, this guy's a lot easier to rattle than that monster from before.
Feeling his confidence return, Itakura passed the ball to Kishimoto.
Kishimoto hesitated for a moment. Sakuragi's calm defense earlier had thrown him off balance—he didn't know how to provoke him anymore.
Forget it. Time to focus.
He squared up for a face-up attack.
Sakuragi crouched slightly, keeping his distance this time instead of pressing too tightly. He had learned from before.
"Nango! Let him come in! I'll box out for the rebound!" Sakuragi called.
Nango nodded, shoving Iwata back a step, his sharp eyes fixed on the ball. "Got it."
Hearing that, Sakuragi adjusted his stance, allowing Kishimoto a narrow lane along the baseline. He trusted Nango completely.
Kishimoto didn't hesitate. If Shohoku was giving him that much space, he wasn't going to waste it.
He drove hard along the baseline. Nango, already positioned near the basket, reacted instantly.
"Come on, kid! Try me!" Kishimoto roared, leaping up for a one-handed dunk.
Nango jumped with him—almost simultaneously.
"SLAP!"
Both hands met the ball in midair, but Nango's strength was overwhelming. He forced the ball down, blocking the dunk outright. Kishimoto couldn't withstand the force and crashed to the floor.
Sakuragi grabbed the loose ball, and Nango immediately sprinted forward. Miyagi spread his arms wide, calling out, "Over here!"
Sakuragi passed, and Miyagi burst past Itakura once again.
Toyotama's last line of defense—Minami and Yazakigyouhei—scrambled to stop the counterattack.
Miyagi dribbled up and stopped at the three-point line. The defenders hesitated. Neither believed he would actually shoot.
A fast-break three? Who does he think he is? Minami scoffed inwardly. The real threat is still that guy!
He locked his focus on Nango. He was sure Shohoku's attack would end with him.
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