At 1:30 PM, the Shohoku team gathered in front of the gymnasium, preparing to enter together and watch the Sannoh Industrial vs. Hakata Shodai Affiliated semifinal match.
Akagi frowned the moment he noticed something… dangerous.
Why is Haruko walking with Sakuragi? Is this really just a coincidence?
Sakuragi stood beside Haruko, grinning from ear to ear—a dramatic contrast to the gloomy, defeated man from that morning.
Haruko, too, wore a bright smile. She always smiled easily, but something about her expression today made Akagi's instincts bristle.
Damn it… my foolish sister…
Akagi knew better than anyone why Sakuragi joined the basketball team. Seeing even a tiny spark between the two made him immediately want to stomp it out.
Sakuragi… wants to become my brother-in-law? Over my dead body.
Kogure noticed Akagi's clenched jaw and dark expression and asked, "Akagi, what's wrong? Did you eat something bad at lunch?"
Akagi waved him off with a stiff gesture just as Coach Anzai walked over, instructing him to confirm attendance and lead the team inside.
"Beat them, Sannoh!"
"Win the championship again! Sawakita!"
As Shohoku walked through the long corridor, the noise grew louder until the massive stadium came into view.
The entire front section was a sea of Sannoh supporters. Their flags, banners, and cheers filled the venue with suffocating confidence. Meanwhile, Hakata's fans were huddled in one tiny corner, looking painfully outnumbered.
"One more, Kawata!"
"Dunk it, Sawakita!"
"Invincible! Absolutely invincible!"
The players were only doing warm-ups, yet the crowd was already going wild.
"Tch. They're really arrogant," Mitsui muttered, irritated—but this was the crowd, not the players. If he wanted to refute them, he'd have to wait until tomorrow.
Miyagi narrowed his eyes. "Will tomorrow's game be like this too?"
Nango laughed lightly. "They're three-time national champions. This much support is completely normal."
Before Miyagi could respond, Sakuragi puffed out his chest.
"Tomorrow, we'll show all of them what Shohoku is made of!"
Nango and Miyagi exchanged a glance.
This is the Sakuragi we know.
Rukawa silently agreed, though he added another word in his mind:
Idiot.
Shohoku wouldn't go down easily—not even to the undefeated reigning champions. Their personalities were bad, stubborn, competitive, and absolutely unwilling to hand the trophy to anyone else.
But two hours later…
The arena was still roaring as Sannoh fans celebrated their overwhelming victory.
Shohoku sat frozen among them, hands cold, backs sweating, hearts sinking.
Except for Nango, who already knew the plot, and Sakuragi, who was bold to the point of insanity, everyone else looked shaken.
Akagi, who had always targeted Sannoh, muttered, "Is this… Sannoh's true strength?"
Mitsui, former middle-school MVP, felt his confidence crumble. "Is that the team we're facing tomorrow?"
Most of the team wore similar expressions. Shohoku had fought tooth and nail to advance this far, but the gap between them and Sannoh was undeniable.
Coach Anzai quietly observed—but said nothing.
He wanted them to think. To digest the fear. To confront reality on their own.
After dinner with his parents, Nango immediately hurried back to the hotel.
The moment he pushed open the lobby door, he saw the lounge already filled with Shohoku players.
"Ah! Nango is back!" Hikoichi Aida waved from beside the TV, looking very out of place among so many serious faces.
"Good evening," Nango greeted.
Coach Anzai opened his eyes and said slowly, "Aida, please begin."
"Right!"
Hikoichi pressed play. The footage of the afternoon match began—Sannoh vs. Hakata.
Since Shohoku had already watched it live, Hikoichi played it at double speed, skipping dead balls and timeouts. The entire first half passed in minutes.
Hikoichi reached for the second tape—but Coach Anzai raised his hand.
"Everyone, share your thoughts."
Silence.
Not a single player spoke. The air grew heavy.
Nango finally stepped in.
"Although this sounds cruel… Sannoh Industrial wasn't being serious in the first half. They were just toying with Hakata."
"Toying?" Sakuragi blinked.
Everyone else silently agreed. The gap in strength had been painfully obvious.
Miyagi sighed. "It's like a cat playing with a mouse before eating it."
"Exactly," Nango continued. "The game can be divided into four stages—every ten minutes, a shift in approach."
"In the first ten minutes, Sannoh relied on their star players—Kawata Masashi inside, Sawakita Eiji outside. Their individual abilities alone controlled the pace. When they drew double-teams, the rest of the team got open looks."
"And I can't ignore another key figure: number 4, Fukatsu Kazunari. He's the commander. The rhythm, the ball distribution, the openings—they all come from him."
Shohoku immediately saw the parallels.
Kawata and Sawakita were Sannoh's versions of Akagi and Rukawa.
Fukatsu was their Nango.
The style was familiar—yet terrifyingly polished.
Sakuragi, eyes spinning, shook his head. "Nango, just tell me what we should do!"
Nango chuckled. "Normally, you counter this with zone defense—collapse the paint, cut off the inside, and disrupt their rhythm. Hakata used that to stay even with Sannoh early on."
Everyone suddenly felt hope rise…
…until Nango crushed it.
"But we never practiced zone defense. So forget that option."
Despair washed over them. The little hope they gained evaporated instantly.
Then—
Nango smiled mysteriously.
"But we're not without options."
Everyone straightened up.
Eyes focused.
Hope revived.
And the real discussion was about to begin.