Although Hanamichi Sakuragi had revealed his weakness-sapodilla-Aiwa Academy persisted in attacking the paint.
They had identified the weakness in Shohoku's interior defense and attacked the basket even more decisively.
Dai Moroboshi also changed his strategy, repeatedly feeding the post after drawing double-teams with his drives.
Using his weight advantage, Jun Koizumi grabbed offensive rebounds over Sakuragi on consecutive possessions and scored on second-chance attempts.
Tsuguhito Nakajima used nimble footwork and accurate little floaters to evade Sakuragi's blocks.
Hanamichi Sakuragi was locked in a bitter struggle. He gave everything he had, making up for his height disadvantage with one reckless leap, box-out, and scramble after another.
Sweat streamed down his face like little rivers, and his soaked red hair clung to his forehead. He gasped for breath, each jump growing heavier, but the fire in his eyes never went out.
"Rebounds!" Takenori Akagi's parting instruction was branded into his mind.
Hanamichi Sakuragi roared and battled in the paint like an enraged lion.
He secured several crucial defensive rebounds and fought desperately for a few precious offensive boards, giving Shohoku a chance to catch its breath.
Under Aiwa's relentless assault, the lead began to erode little by little.
74-68... 76-72... 78-75...
Only three minutes remained, and Shohoku's lead was down to just three points.
The air seemed to have solidified, every breath carrying the scorching taste of rust.
Sweat had long since soaked every player's jersey, and their heavy breathing rang clearly through the silent gym.
Hanamichi Sakuragi braced his hands on his knees, his chest heaving. Sweat dripped steadily from his chin onto the floor, forming a small puddle.
His legs felt filled with lead, and every jump was like pulling himself out of a bog.
"Sakuragi! Hang in there!" Ryota Kudo's voice carried unquestionable force. He ran past Sakuragi and