"Huff… ha… huff… ha…"
On the deserted beach, Nango bent over with his hands on his knees, panting heavily. After his breathing finally steadied, he straightened up and gazed at the endless sea.
The sun had just climbed above the horizon. Warm sunlight spilled across the water, dispelling the lingering chill of dawn and gradually revealing everything that had been hidden in the darkness.
"Well…"
Nango let out a long sigh. He hadn't woken up so early to admire the Kanagawa coastline at four in the morning—it was simply because he couldn't sleep.
The Youth Team's training camp had ended yesterday. As soon as he got home, he called Kano to let him know he'd arrived safely.
What he didn't expect was that Kano would hang up almost immediately and then arrange a meeting with Eri for today.
That alone was enough to give Nango a splitting headache.
With Eri's spoiled, rich-girl temper, if she heard that Kano was planning to go to Shohoku, she'd probably flip the table on the spot. Expecting her to accept it calmly was nothing more than wishful thinking.
Nango tossed and turned in bed, staring at the ceiling until nearly three in the morning.
In the end, he decided to stop overthinking it and let things take their course.
He still couldn't fall asleep.
So he got up and came to the beach to train.
Running on sand was far more exhausting than running on solid ground. Every step sank into the surface, and pulling his foot free required extra effort, making it an excellent way to train leg strength and stamina.
This method was inspired by the "Wolf King," Kevin Garnett, who trained on beaches every offseason to prepare for the grind of a long regular season.
As Nango jogged along the shoreline, he thought to himself:
Stone Buddha, Wolf King, Heavenly King… I guess I can only learn from the latter two.
Although he had been playing power forward for some time now, adapting to the role was still difficult.
The biggest reason was the difference in defensive pressure inside the paint compared to the perimeter.
First, the limited space made it harder to display his full skill set, restricting many of his moves. Second, once he caught the ball inside, double-teams came faster and more aggressively, forcing him to make decisions almost instantly.
In short, if he wanted to play well in the paint, his overall skill level still needed refinement.
That was why Nango wanted to study the playstyles of elite forwards.
The first one he ruled out was the Stone Buddha—and for a simple reason.
He didn't actually want to live in the paint forever.
This move to power forward was only temporary. Eventually, he planned to return to the perimeter.
Thanks to the system, Nango could customize his body as if he were playing a game. His ultimate goal was to mold himself into a true swingman—someone in the mold of LeBron James or Kevin Durant.
Because of that, players like Nowitzki and Garnett, whose styles leaned closer to perimeter play, were far more valuable references. As for Webber or the traditional Celtics-style big men… he didn't watch enough of their games to bother.
He couldn't help but imagine the future.
A 206-centimeter-tall Nango blowing past Morishige Hiroshi with a guard-like move, then throwing down a one-handed dunk over a rotating defender.
Or backing down Uozumi or Akagi, then fading away smoothly on one leg—a one-legged fadeaway.
The image was so brutal that it almost felt unreal.
Anzai Jitsurei wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. His lips were dry as he hesitated at the edge of the court, wanting to step closer but not daring to interrupt.
The game had reached its final moments.
The Japanese Team was trailing by one point.
"Bang!"
Nango soared into the air and secured the crucial defensive rebound.
"There's no time! Attack now!" Anzai Jitsurei cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted.
"Nango! Over here!"
Sakuragi Hanamichi was the first to sprint ahead, turning his head as he reached out for the ball.
Only five seconds remained.
There was no time to organize a proper play. Victory or defeat would be decided in this instant.
Rukawa Kaede tried to break forward as well, but the defenders clung to him tightly.
Meanwhile, Nango was immediately swarmed by two opponents.
The Japanese Team had no timeouts left. Their only hope was Sakuragi—if he could get the ball.
"Sakuragi! It's up to you!"
Unable to shake the double-team, Nango leapt into the air and desperately hurled the ball forward.
"Stop him! Protect the basket!"
Under their coach's orders, the two defenders trailing Sakuragi split up. One continued to chase him down, while the other rushed toward the rim.
Sakuragi noticed none of it.
His entire world had narrowed to the basketball spinning through the air.
Catch it.
Dunk it.
That was the only thought in his mind.
He reached out with his left hand and snagged the ball, then hugged it tightly with both arms. Planting his left foot, he exploded upward, preparing to finish with a two-handed dunk.
Naturally, his opponents wouldn't allow it so easily.
They jumped together, sandwiching him in midair, denying him any space.
With no other choice, Sakuragi twisted his body and carefully released the ball.
From here on… it's up to fate.
Bang! Bang!
The ball kissed the backboard, drifted toward the back of the rim, and bounced again and again as its momentum slowly faded.
Go in… go in…!
Sakuragi's heart was in his throat.
At the moment the ball left his hands, there were still 1.5 seconds on the clock.
Now, the buzzer was already blaring.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly—until, at last, the basketball rolled gently through the hoop.
Score!
The game-winning basket!
Sakuragi Hanamichi had become the hero of the Japanese Team!
His mind went blank. Instinctively, he turned to look for his teammates—
Only to be buried beneath them.
"Ahhh!!!"
"We won!!!"
"You little rascal—nice job!"
The crowd swarmed him, pinning him to the floor.
"Ugh… get off! I can't breathe!" Sakuragi shouted.
"You idiots… move—"
"Ha ha—!"
Sakuragi suddenly flung a pillow off his face, shot upright, and roared, "You bunch of bastards! Are you trying to crush me to death?!"
"…It was just a dream."
The Youth Team's short-term training camp had ended, but Anzai Jitsurei still hadn't announced the final selection list.
That uncertainty tormented Sakuragi Hanamichi, who desperately wanted to make the team.
"It was just a dream…"
He glanced at the time, lay back down, and stared at the ceiling.
"Hmph. Sooner or later… all of this will come true."