Day four of the training camp.
After several days of training together, most of the players had grown familiar with one another. During warm-ups, laughter and chatter echoed across the court.
However, there were two clear exceptions.
Fukatsu remained among the Sannoh group, while Morishige Hiroshi stood alone on the far edge of the court.
The two were like the opposite poles of a magnet, separated by an unmistakable distance.
Fukatsu still had companions around him.
Morishige Hiroshi had nothing.
Only loneliness surrounded the towering giant.
"Smack!"
Hiroshi felt someone tap his shoulder.
He turned around and saw Nango smiling at him, pointing behind him.
"We're one person short. Can you help me weigh down my back?"
Shohoku had sent five players. If they paired up, they really were short one person.
Of course, that was just an excuse.
Nango's real intention was simple — he felt sorry for Hiroshi, and he wanted to offer a bit of comfort… and perhaps earn some goodwill.
After all, unless something completely unexpected happened, both of them would almost certainly be selected for the Youth Team. They would be core members in the future.
Getting along now mattered.
Hiroshi wasn't stupid.
He could tell Nango was extending an olive branch.
And more importantly — he genuinely needed it.
Despite his enormous frame, Morishige Hiroshi was still only sixteen. And no sixteen-year-old wanted to face isolation alone.
He nodded silently and walked over.
Nango's initiative surprised Akagi and the others, but no one said anything. They, too, felt sympathy for Hiroshi.
Not everyone shared that sentiment.
Some of the Sannoh players watched with complicated expressions.
They didn't resent Shohoku for defeating them — that loss had been fair and decisive — but a trace of hostility was unavoidable.
From their perspective, Nango's actions looked like faction-building, which only deepened their dissatisfaction.
As for the neutral players, they didn't care about such things.
Their only concern was performing well and catching Anzai Jitsurei's eye.
Warm-ups ended.
Yet Anzai Jitsurei still hadn't appeared.
Based on the previous days, he should have arrived long ago.
After waiting for some time, footsteps finally sounded outside the gym.
But the person who entered wasn't Anzai Jitsurei.
It was his assistant coach.
The players exchanged puzzled glances.
"Jitsurei… what did the doctor say?"
Mrs. Anzai clasped her hands tightly in front of her chest, worry deepening the lines on her face as she waited for her son's answer.
That morning, while she was trimming her potted plants, Coach Anzai — who had been sitting at the table reading the newspaper — suddenly clutched his chest and collapsed.
She panicked, called an ambulance, and rushed him to the hospital.
Only after everything settled did she remember to contact her family.
Upon receiving the call, Anzai Jitsurei immediately drove from Tokyo to Kamakura and temporarily handed the Youth Team over to his assistant.
"Don't worry. It's nothing serious."
Shili smiled faintly, wrapping an arm around his mother's shoulders and helping her sit on the stool beside the bed.
"The doctor said Dad just needs a few days of rest. He'll be discharged soon."
"Thank goodness… thank goodness…"
Mrs. Anzai patted her chest, then asked anxiously,
"Why did he faint all of a sudden?"
"The doctor suspects overwork," Jitsurei explained gently, handing her a cup of warm water.
"This trip to Hiroshima probably took a lot out of him. Ever since he quit teaching at the university, he hasn't traveled this long in years."
Mrs. Anzai nodded and took a sip.
The warmth slowly returned to her fingers, finally calming her racing heart.
The ward fell quiet.
After a while, Shili looked at his father lying on the bed and asked softly,
"Should we take this opportunity to persuade Dad to retire early?"
Without hesitation, Mrs. Anzai replied,
"He won't agree."
A bitter smile appeared on Jitsurei's lips.
His father's stubbornness was legendary.
After lunch, Mrs. Anzai left to prepare the necessary items for hospitalization, leaving Shili behind.
Not long after, Coach Anzai slowly opened his eyes.
"Hanako…"
Shili, who had been standing by the window, hurried over.
"What do you need?"
Coach Anzai was startled and tried to sit up.
"Why are you here?"
Shili quickly helped him settle back down.
"With something this serious, how could I not come back?"
"…Sorry for the trouble."
Even after resting, Coach Anzai's voice was weak.
"You need to take care of yourself," Jitsurei said firmly.
"The doctor wants you to undergo a full examination tomorrow."
Coach Anzai frowned instinctively.
"That's unnecessary."
"You should still do it," Jitsurei insisted.
"So Mom and I can be at ease."
"..."
Coach Anzai sighed.
At his age, health problems were unavoidable.
Especially after retirement — his weight had increased, and his physical indicators were bound to be less than ideal.
A full examination would surely uncover several issues.
The father and son sat in silence for a while.
Then Coach Anzai asked,
"Where's Yihui? I haven't seen him in a long time."
"He went to Nara with the team," Jitsurei replied helplessly.
"And his grades are still terrible."
Coach Anzai nodded, then asked,
"Has the final selection been decided?"
Shili immediately understood.
"Nango and Rukawa Kaede will stay."
He paused, then continued carefully.
"As for Sakuragi Hanamichi… I still have reservations. His athleticism is outstanding, but his technique and tactical awareness need polishing. More importantly, at the international level, his height is a disadvantage if he plays inside."
International competition was unforgiving.
Japan already lagged behind in height and physicality.
Their tallest center barely exceeded two meters — and even then, his physique was lacking.
That was precisely why Morishige Hiroshi, at just sixteen and 199 cm tall, was considered a treasure.
In such circumstances, letting a sub-190 cm player like Sakuragi dominate the paint would only worsen the disadvantage.
Jitsurei's explanation was cold, rational, and realistic.
As Coach Taoka once said:
Even the best coach can't change a player's height.
Coach Anzai fell silent.
After a moment, he changed the subject.
"When is the Youth Team's next match?"
"After the National Sports Festival."
"And the opponent?"
Jitsurei gave a wry smile and turned his gaze toward the window, where the morning sun was slowly rising.