During the timeout, both the Red and Blue Teams gathered near their respective backcourt baskets.
Maki raised his hand and praised them with a smile.
"Good job."
"It was just normal performance."
Moroboshi curled his lips and casually swatted Maki's hand away.
Maki chuckled, then turned toward Kawata.
"Thanks for your hard work, Kawata."
Kawata waved it off, hands braced on his knees.
Guarding Morishige Hiroshi possession after possession had drained him heavily. He needed every second to recover.
Maki then looked at Nango.
"Are you okay? Those two collisions looked pretty rough."
"I'm fine. I'll recover in a bit."
Nango answered casually, but his thoughts were complicated.
Defensively, he had performed decently.
Offensively… not so much.
Aside from that three-pointer, he had contributed almost nothing.
First, he had been double-teamed.
Then he had been knocked back by Hiroshi.
It wasn't only because Fukatsu and Tsuchiya defended well—it also exposed how uncomfortable Nango still was at power forward.
He subconsciously drifted too far outside.
That was a guard's habit, not a forward's.
If he wanted to truly transform, he needed time.
More time to adjust.
More time to adapt.
Anzai Jitsurei was of the same opinion.
He didn't mind giving Nango room to grow.
If the transition succeeded, the team's ceiling would rise dramatically.
If it failed, Nango could simply return to his original position.
Either way, there was no loss.
Just as the Red Team discussed their next plan—
A sharp voice rang out from the opposite side of the court.
"Is it that you can't pass? Or that you simply don't want to pass?"
The coaches at midcourt exchanged glances and hurried over.
Kawata, sensing trouble, jogged toward the noise.
The rest of the Red Team followed more slowly.
Matsumoto grabbed Fukatsu's arm.
"Fukatsu! Calm down!"
Although Morishige Hiroshi showed no reaction, Sendoh and Tsuchiya instinctively stepped to either side of him.
"What's going on here?"
Anzai Jitsurei's brows sank deeply.
The Blue Team remained silent.
Everyone lowered their heads—except Fukatsu and Hiroshi.
Anzai snorted.
"Tsuchiya. You talk."
"Ah?"
Caught off guard, Tsuchiya hesitated, then answered carefully.
"It's nothing serious… We were just discussing tactics. Fukatsu got a little emotional."
"Is that all?" Anzai pressed.
"What about 'can't pass or don't want to pass'?"
"This…"
Tsuchiya didn't know how to explain.
Sendoh stepped forward.
"We had some disagreements about how Morishige handled the ball. Our tone was too harsh. That's on us."
He bowed slightly.
"Sorry, Morishige."
Matsumoto followed immediately.
"Sorry, Morishige."
He nudged Fukatsu hard with his elbow.
Tsuchiya also sighed.
"I'm sorry too."
Fukatsu remained stiff, then finally spoke.
"I apologize for getting emotional. But I don't think I was wrong."
"He plays too selfishly."
After saying this, Fukatsu felt relieved.
Punishment or not, he didn't care.
Anzai Jitsurei turned his gaze to Morishige Hiroshi.
"Your thoughts?"
Morishige said nothing.
He simply stood there, eyes lowered slightly, as if everything around him was beneath notice.
"Smack!"
Anzai clapped his hands and forced a smile.
"In that case, neither of you will participate in today's training match."
"Go back and reflect."
Then he turned and shouted.
"Uozumi! Yoshino! You two, get over here!"
Yoshino—originally scheduled to be cut—suddenly received a chance.
Uozumi checked in early.
Fukatsu turned and walked off without looking back.
Morishige Hiroshi followed silently behind him.
An assistant coach whispered nervously.
"Should we keep an eye on them? What if they start fighting?"
Anzai sneered.
"If they fight, they can forget about ever joining the Youth Team."
No one spoke.
No one dared.
After Yoshino and Uozumi finished warming up, the practice match resumed.
Without Fukatsu and Morishige Hiroshi, the Blue Team's strength dropped sharply.
They could no longer compete evenly with the Red Team.
The remainder of the game became one-sided.
Red Team won easily.