In Anzai Jitsurei's vision, if Nango could transition to the power forward position, it would benefit both Shohoku and the Youth Team.
The reason was simple—both teams were painfully thin at the four.
Tsuchiya Atsushi, the most outstanding among them, played smartly and had good fundamentals, but his physique was too slender to consistently withstand physical battles.
Sakuragi, on the other hand, was raw. Far too raw.
Anzai Jitsurei wasn't fully confident in either his technique or his temperament.
As for the rest, their shortcomings were even more obvious. None truly caught his eye.
Nango was different.
Despite playing point guard, his static physical attributes were outstanding. He wouldn't be at a disadvantage against most power forwards, and more importantly, his mind was clear. Calm. Rarely shaken.
That was just the physical side.
Technically, Nango possessed multiple scoring methods, long-range shooting ability, and a willingness to share the ball. He could operate from the high post, set screens, and act as a secondary organizer—all traits that could greatly enrich a team's tactical options.
Defensively, with monsters like Kawata or Morishige Hiroshi protecting the paint, Nango could act as a roaming "firefighter," moving across the court to extinguish threats wherever they appeared.
"Power forward?" Nango frowned slightly.
"I've tried it briefly before, but I don't really like it."
"I prefer playing point guard. I like having the ball in my hands and controlling the game."
Anzai Jitsurei's plan was sound, but Nango wasn't eager to accept it.
If he switched to power forward now, it would be no different from stealing Sakuragi's rice bowl.
More importantly, their conversation had been overheard.
By "Super Hearing" Sakuragi.
At some point, Sakuragi had begun inching closer and closer to Anzai Jitsurei, behaving like a man covering his ears while stealing a bell. His ears twitched like radar, desperate to capture every word.
Under these circumstances, there was no way Nango could openly agree.
To be honest, he had considered playing power forward before joining Shohoku. Back then, after studying the roster, he believed his pairing with Akagi could lock down the interior and solidify defense within the three-point line.
But Sakuragi's explosive growth changed everything.
That plan had been quietly shelved.
"Is that so?" Anzai Jitsurei said calmly.
"But if that's the case, you won't be able to fully utilize your defensive potential."
"So I still suggest you try it more in the future."
He wasn't about to give up so easily.
Even if Nango didn't agree now, Anzai Jitsurei intended to force him to experience the power forward role during future training sessions and evaluate the results.
"…Okay."
Nango nodded.
At the same time, the situation on the court shifted.
Sendo passed the ball into the paint to Little Kawata.
Mikio caught it and tried to force his way into Akagi. Akagi immediately lowered his center of gravity, planting his feet firmly and pressing his left hand into Mikio's back.
The defense was suffocating.
Not only did it make Mikio uncomfortable, it completely denied him access to the basket. Left with no choice, Mikio attempted a turnaround shot.
Clang.
The miss itself wasn't the real issue.
The real problem was what it revealed—
Little Kawata could not score one-on-one against Akagi.
Which meant the rookie lineup now lacked interior scoring altogether.
Letting Jin attack the basket was far less reliable than simply allowing him to shoot threes at random.
The offensive burden fell entirely on the perimeter.
Or rather—on Sendo and Rukawa Kaede.
Sendo remained calm. He was no longer the one-on-one fanatic of his first year.
Rukawa Kaede, however, was a completely different story.
Before Sendo had even crossed half-court, Rukawa had already pinned Matsumoto behind him, his eyes blazing as he demanded the ball.
Without Nango… this kid is acting up again.
Sendo felt a headache coming on.
It seemed that no matter how much Rukawa matured, once Nango left the court, he turned into Sun Wukong—ready to flip the Heavenly Palace upside down.
Still, Sendo passed the ball.
First, to fulfill the request.
Second, because he believed Matsumoto stood no chance.
Facing the shorter Matsumoto, Rukawa didn't bother with a back-to-the-basket play.
He wanted to crush him—head-on.
Triple threat. Shot fake. Another.
Forced to react, Matsumoto stepped forward.
Rukawa exploded.
One dribble. One step.
Gone.
So fast!
That first step is almost on Sawakita's level!
Matsumoto was stunned.
Only now did he realize Rukawa's true strength.
With open space ahead, Rukawa's eyes locked onto the rim. He took a long stride past the free-throw line and launched off one foot, gripping the ball tightly in his right hand.
Nobe moved to help—but Akagi beat him to it.
Shohoku's two pillars collided in midair.
"Oh?" Nango raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained.
"Go, Gorilla!" Sakuragi shouted eagerly.
Passing the ball didn't mean reconciliation. If possible, Sakuragi still loved seeing Rukawa get humbled.
Akagi swung his palm forward to swat the ball—
But Rukawa's forearm snapped inward, slipping past the block.
In one smooth motion, he wrapped around Akagi and—
hammered a reverse dunk straight over his head.
"Bang!"
The gym exploded.
"That was beautiful!"
"Are first-years really this good now?!"
"That dunk was so clean!"
The Nittaidai players were cheering before the Youth Team members could even react.
Jin swallowed hard.
He doesn't even show mercy to his teammates…
Uozumi smiled faintly.
Akagi, you've been posterized by Nango and Rukawa quite a bit in practice, haven't you?
Akagi's expression darkened.
He didn't even wait for the inbound, charging straight into the rookie team's backcourt.
Sendo chuckled softly.
"This is getting more and more interesting."
Meanwhile, on the bench—
Damn it! That Stinky Fox is showing off again!
No—this won't do! I want to play too!
The better Rukawa performed, the higher his chances of staying—
and that made Sakuragi burn with jealousy.
He rushed toward Anzai Jitsurei.
"Coach! Put me in already!"
Anzai Jitsurei smiled gently.
"Sakuragi, the second half has only just begun."
"Sit down. Watch calmly. Your chance will come."
The game was at its most exciting point.
Anzai Jitsurei had no intention of making adjustments yet.
He wanted to observe Rukawa Kaede carefully—to see whether he could fill the void left by Sawakita.
Sawakita's absence was regrettable, but Anzai Jitsurei never blamed him.
A player willing to go overseas and challenge himself was always a good thing.
The duty of the Youth Team coach was to select talent and nurture fresh blood for the national team.
In fact, he hoped there would be more players like Sawakita.
Because Anzai Jitsurei understood one harsh truth:
These kids might be elite in Japan—but beyond that?
Their physiques were insufficient.
Their basketball philosophy lagged behind.
Their training systems were outdated.
Basketball was a sport of physical contact, and this was an inescapable disadvantage.
Only by going out into the wider world could they truly grow.
And while he couldn't change everything—
He could guide this generation well.
These children carried more hope than any before them.
And that was why Anzai Jitsurei placed such high expectations on them.