Anzai Jitsurei was extremely satisfied with Nango's first-half performance.
In terms of immediate combat strength, Nango was more than qualified to secure a starting position on the Youth Team. The only remaining question was which position he would ultimately play.
But this scrimmage was no longer about evaluating Nango.
It was about finding four teammates who could best complement him.
Facing the newcomers, Anzai Jitsurei chuckled softly.
"You all performed very well in the first half. Every one of you played hard."
"The changes in the score are proof of that."
Morishige Hiroshi's heart tightened.
He knew very clearly that he hadn't been the one responsible for closing the gap.
Sakuragi and the others, however, visibly brightened.
The head coach's acknowledgment felt like confirmation—they might have gained an advantage in this internal competition.
Meanwhile, the players who hadn't seen the floor yet felt a growing sense of urgency. Pressure mounted as they eagerly awaited a chance to prove themselves.
Anzai Jitsurei noticed these subtle shifts and continued calmly,
"We'll be making some personnel adjustments."
"Nango. Sakuragi. You two will come out and rest for a while."
No one expected that Nango would be the first to be subbed out.
He froze for a split second, then nodded.
"Okay…"
Nango didn't immediately understand the deeper meaning behind the decision.
Sakuragi, on the other hand, was visibly shaken. His brows furrowed, but he held his tongue.
Anzai Jitsurei continued evenly,
"Our starting lineup for the second half, from the five down to the one, will be: Mikio, Jin, Fukuda, Rukawa Kaede, and Sendo."
With this announcement, every newcomer except Sugadaira would get court time.
Sugadaira lowered his head in disappointment.
Even though he had anticipated this outcome, the moment it became reality, the sting was unavoidable.
"Coach! Why are you taking me out?"
After Anzai Jitsurei finished his arrangements, Sakuragi finally spoke up.
"Hey, Sakuragi."
Anzai waved his hand, first giving Nango a faint, meaningful smile, then turning back to Sakuragi.
"Sakuragi, let's give your classmates more opportunities, shall we?"
"Your first-half performance was good. I saw everything."
Those words left Sakuragi with nothing more to say.
The coach had both acknowledged his contribution and emphasized team balance. Pushing further would only create friction.
After settling the matter, Anzai Jitsurei briefly encouraged everyone, then sent the players off to prepare for the second half.
Only then did he sit down beside Nango.
Smiling, he asked,
"Why aren't you asking me why I took you out?"
Nango grinned.
"Didn't you already say it, Coach?"
"To give my teammates more opportunities."
"I think I've already shown enough in the first half, haven't I?"
By now, Nango had figured it out.
Anzai Jitsurei wanted to observe the others more closely in the second half. That was why Nango had been singled out.
In other words—
he had already passed.
As for Sakuragi, once Jin and Fukuda displayed their abilities, he would likely still get minutes. Compared to them, Sakuragi's defensive impact was simply too overwhelming.
At the power forward position, only Tsuchiya could consistently suppress him. Others weren't nearly as competitive.
Clever boy.
Anzai Jitsurei adjusted his glasses, smiling.
"For the second half, you'll stay here and act as my assistant."
"Yes."
Nango answered simply.
The second half soon began.
The Veteran Team's lineup also underwent major changes.
From tallest to shortest, the players on the floor were: Akagi, Nobe, Mitsui, Matsumoto, and Fukatsu.
This clearly suggested that Kawata, Tsuchiya, Moroboshi, and Maki were already very close to securing final roster spots.
As the realization set in, the intensity on the court continued to rise.
Little Kawata and Akagi met at center court for the jump ball.
Mikio's reaction speed and vertical leap were both lacking. Akagi tipped the ball away before he even realized what had happened.
The first possession belonged to the veterans.
With Nango—that immovable mountain—off the court, Fukatsu was eager to make a statement.
Unfortunately for him, Sendo immediately latched on.
Back in the Prefectural Tournament, Coach Taoka had once trusted Sendo to guard Maki one-on-one.
Although it ultimately failed, that decision alone proved Sendo's defensive ability was well above average.
Fukatsu struggled to shake him.
After a brief battle of footwork and feints, Fukatsu finally found an angle and fed the ball into the low post.
Akagi backed Mikio down, then suddenly executed a reverse pivot followed by a front pivot.
Mikio reacted too late.
Akagi finished easily at the rim.
"That idiot…"
Kawata's expression darkened.
He wanted to yell at his brother—but his position didn't allow it.
"Akagi-san's footwork is quite good," Anzai Jitsurei commented.
Then he turned to Nango.
"Tell me, what are Akagi-san's technical characteristics?"
Nango thought for a moment.
"The captain has strong confidence in his post-up offense. Defensively, he's always been the core of our system."
"You could say he's the anchor on both ends."
As he spoke, Sendo drove low, used his long strides to slip past Fukatsu, pulled up, and hit a jumper over Akagi.
Anzai Jitsurei nodded, then asked casually,
"Then do you think Akagi-san has areas that need improvement?"
Nango felt a chill.
Is he asking me to criticize the captain?
"If the captain could develop a mid-range shot," Nango answered carefully,
"his offensive options would expand significantly."
"He could also operate more from the high post—setting screens and making passes—which would make the team's tactics more flexible."
The words cut two ways.
On the surface, it was constructive advice.
But beneath it lay a clear truth: Akagi's offense was heavily concentrated near the basket, and his methods were limited.
Against elite centers like Morishige Hiroshi or Kawata, brute force alone wasn't enough.
A mid-range shot—or even high-post playmaking—would allow Akagi to counter those matchups.
"And defensively?" Anzai asked.
Nango frowned.
"His footwork is slow."
"He struggles to defend pick-and-rolls, but honestly, that's a weakness shared by most centers."
"Of course," he added, "Kawata is an exception."
"You're right," Anzai chuckled.
"Then how do you think we should help Akagi-san handle pick-and-roll situations?"
Nango felt this question was bordering on nonsense.
"That can't be solved by the center alone."
"Pick-and-roll defense relies on team rotations and switches."
"Well said," Anzai replied, his smile fading.
"It's a team issue—but it also requires individual effort."
"Nango, your defensive strategy focuses on locking down the opposing point guard, disrupting their offensive rhythm. That's very effective."
"But when you face teams with multiple offensive initiators, your influence on the perimeter gets limited."
"With your physical tools, you could actually contribute more on defense."
Ah.
So that's what this was about.
All that circling… and now we're finally here.
Nango didn't like this indirect approach. He would have preferred Anzai Jitsurei be straightforward.
"I've noticed that too," Nango admitted.
"But when I help defensively, I worry about leaving my man open for a three. So I hesitate."
Anzai Jitsurei looked straight at him.
"Then… would you like to try a different position?"
"Power forward."
The true intention was finally revealed.
Anzai Jitsurei wanted to move Nango to the four, strengthening both Shohoku's frontcourt—and the Youth Team's weakest position.