The High-Spirited MVP

Fujima's gaze swept across every player's face.

His tone was as calm as if he were discussing the day's weather.

"It's only one basket. What are you panicking for?"

"That Number 7 is indeed very fast. We acknowledge that."

"But basketball isn't a hundred-meter sprint."

Fujima extended a finger and drew a circle on the tactics board.

"Don't let them drag you into their rhythm."

"Ito."

"Yes!" Taku Ito abruptly raised his head.

Fujima looked at him encouragingly.

"You're a third-year. He's only a second-year."

"In terms of experience and height, you hold an absolute advantage."

"Don't think about stealing the ball from him, and don't try to keep up with his speed."

"You only need to spread your arms, use your height to cover him, force him into a dead end, and leave the rest..."

Fujima pointed at Toru Hanagata beside him.

"To Hanagata and the others."

Taku Ito froze for a moment, then nodded heavily. "Yes! I understand!"

Fujima turned to Shoichi Takano and Nagano.

"And you two."

"Shohoku's Number 10 and Number 11 may be rookies, but their jumping ability is astonishing."

"Especially that redhead, Hanamichi Sakuragi. Don't underestimate him just because he's a beginner."

"Box them out! Lock down your positions!"

"Don't give them any room to jump!"

"Yes!!" Takano and Nagano answered in unison.

At last, Fujima's gaze settled on Toru Hanagata.

The two exchanged a glance, with no need for further words.

"Hanagata, I'm counting on you."

"Don't worry."

"As long as I'm standing, Shoyo's paint is a no-fly zone."

Hanagata adjusted his glasses, a sharp gleam flashing behind the lenses.

"Good."

Fujima nodded in satisfaction and clapped his hands.

"Get back out there!"

"Show them what the real Shoyo is!"

"Yeah!!!"

Shoyo's roar was deafening, and the dejected air from moments ago vanished without a trace.

In the stands.

Ryonan's Coach Taoka Moichi sighed at the sight.

"Impressive..."

"With just one timeout and a few words, he's made Shoyo calm down again after they were thrown into confusion."

"That's what makes Fujima Kenji so frightening."

Taoka Moichi folded his arms, his expression complicated.

"As long as he sits in that position, Shoyo has an absolute pillar to rely on."

"At this moment, he is a calm and wise coach."

"But..."

Taoka's tone shifted, and his gaze sharpened.

"If the situation keeps deteriorating and forces him to take off his jacket and step onto the court..."

"Then Shoyo will become an entirely different kind of bloodthirsty beast."

Beside him, Aida Hikoichi was stunned as he scribbled furiously in his notebook.

"Fujima... dual identity... terrifying!"

"Beep—!"

The game resumed.

Shohoku ball.

Ryota Miyagi brought the ball up the court, still wearing that carefree grin.

"Yo, got chewed out just now, didn't you?"

Miyagi looked at Taku Ito in front of him, trying to disrupt him with trash talk.

"Want me to blow past you again so you'll remember the lesson?"

But this time, Taku Ito did not panic as he had before.

His expression was as still as water. He spread his feet, lowered his center of gravity, and extended his arms as wide as possible.

Like a massive spiderweb.

He did not take the initiative to attack, but he sealed off all of Miyagi's passing lanes.

"Tch... learned your lesson, huh?"

Miyagi curled his lip.

He suddenly accelerated, trying to break through on the right side again.

Taku Ito did not recklessly reach out.

Instead, he quickly slid sideways, always keeping himself directly in front of Miyagi.

"What a pain!"

Miyagi frowned.

If he could not drive in, then he would pass!

With a flick of his wrist, he tried to send the ball to Akagi in the post.

Just then, Shoyo's players, who had been spread out on defense, suddenly seemed to receive some kind of command.

In an instant!

All five players collapsed inside the three-point line!

A zone defense!

And an extremely aggressive packed-in defense at that!

The entire paint was instantly filled with green jerseys, like an impenetrable forest.

Takenori Akagi had just received the ball and had not even had time to turn around.

When Toru Hanagata and Shoichi Takano closed in from his left and right.

Four long arms rose high, trapping Akagi in the middle like a cage.

"Damn it!!"

Akagi roared, trying to force his way up.

But there were people all around him. He did not even have room to turn, much less pass or shoot.

"Pass it to me! You gorilla!!"

Hanamichi Sakuragi shouted anxiously from nearby, but Hasegawa and Nagano were glued to him as well.

Shoyo was determined to lock down Shohoku's inside game!

"So this is Fujima's strategy?"

On the sideline, Coach Anzai's glasses reflected the light, concealing his expression.

"Using their height advantage to completely seal the paint, betting that Shohoku has no outside shooting ability..."

Akagi was being double-teamed so tightly he could barely breathe.

Sweat streamed down his cheeks and into his eyes, blurring his vision.

The shot clock was rapidly running down.

"Pass it out! Akagi!!"

A voice suddenly cut through the noisy crowd and reached Akagi's ears.

Akagi's heart jolted.

He struggled to turn his head through the gaps between bodies, catching sight of a white figure from the corner of his eye.

At the forty-five-degree angle beyond the three-point line.

That man stood there quietly.

His hands were open, ready to receive the pass.

There was no one beside him.

Because everyone on Shoyo had collapsed into the paint, completely leaving the perimeter open.

That was... Hisashi Mitsui!

A scene from middle school suddenly flashed through Akagi's mind.

That high-spirited MVP, that supremely confident sharpshooter.

"Mitsui!"

Gritting his teeth, Akagi used every ounce of his strength to fling the ball out from beneath the two defenders' arms.

"Whoosh—!"

The basketball shot out of the crowded paint like a cannonball, flying toward that solitary figure.

Hisashi Mitsui caught the ball.

There was not the slightest hesitation in his movement, nor any unnecessary adjustment.

He bent his knees.

He jumped.

He raised his arm.

He flicked his fingers.

The sequence flowed as naturally as breathing.

His gaze was focused and clear, as if the whole world contained only the basketball in his hands and the hoop in the distance.

Kazushi Hasegawa of Shoyo only realized what was happening then and desperately lunged out to contest the shot.

"Too late."

Mitsui watched Hasegawa flying toward him, a confident curve lifting at the corner of his mouth.

The basketball had already left his fingertips.

It traced a perfect arc through the air.

High above.

Spinning.

The eyes of thousands throughout the arena followed the ball.

Time seemed to freeze at that moment.

"Swish!"

A crisp net-slicing sound that made everyone's scalp tingle.

The basketball dropped cleanly through the hoop!

The white net rippled like a surging wave.

A three-pointer!

It was good!

The scoreboard changed.

11:13.

Shohoku took the lead!

Hisashi Mitsui slowly lowered his arm, his gaze passing over the dumbstruck Hasegawa.

He stared directly at Fujima Kenji, seated on the sideline, his eyes burning with fierce flames.

"Hey, Fujima."

Mitsui's voice was not loud, but it carried an arrogance that sent chills down one's spine.

"Did you forget? I'm the MVP."