Because of the dense crowd—and Kano's petite build—Nango had to shield her slightly as they moved forward with the flow of people.
As they drew closer to the caravan, NBA-related posters and promotional boards appeared more and more frequently.
Nango scanned them casually—then his gaze stopped.
"King of the Streets."
The words felt familiar.
He had seen this same poster at the gym before. The owner had even tried to convince him to sign up.
At the time, Nango had declined, thinking he wouldn't have the time.
Who would've thought he'd run into it here?
That also meant one thing—
He'd already missed the chance to dominate a group of weaker opponents.
Still…
There might be some unexpected gains.
Nango raised an eyebrow and smiled.
"We might get to see an NBA star today."
"Really?" Kano blinked in surprise. "Would they actually come to a place like this?"
She didn't seem especially excited.
Maybe the event hadn't officially started yet. There was no host or organizer in sight—only a group of young cheerleaders in revealing outfits dancing energetically on stage.
Seeing that, the couple boarded the caravan and wandered around.
"Huh? Fu—wait, isn't that Nango from Shohoku?"
"Mm?"
Hearing his name, Nango turned around and met a pair of listless, dead-fish eyes.
He smiled.
It was Fukuda from Ryonan, along with his friends.
Before returning to team training, Fukuda had signed up for several amateur tournaments out of pure eagerness to play—including King of the Streets.
Nango raised a hand in greeting.
Fukuda nodded in return. That was about as friendly as he got.
Just as they were about to exchange a few words, a wave of shouting erupted outside the caravan.
An obese Black man strode toward the court, surrounded by several white men.
He wore a relaxed smile, waving continuously as he entered.
Charles Barkley.
NBA superstar.
Nicknamed "The Flying Pig."
With such a heavyweight presence, media reporters naturally swarmed the venue.
Nango quickly spotted a familiar face among them—
Aida Yayoi.
According to the rules, sixteen selected contestants would be paired off to challenge Barkley, with a final champion decided at the end.
Just as Nango had expected, most of the participants were amateurs with mediocre skills.
Fukuda, a "professional" by comparison, stood out immediately.
Though his defense was still terrible, his 188 cm height and 80 kg build were more than enough against ordinary people.
On offense, almost no one could stop him.
He took the championship without much difficulty.
The audience enjoyed themselves thoroughly.
Nango found it boring.
Barkley looked uninterested.
Aida Yayoi rolled her eyes more times than she could count.
Fortunately, the one-on-one tournament wasn't the real highlight.
Next came the main event.
Barkley would team up with the top four performers to face audience challengers.
Half-court games.
Five minutes per match.
Three games total.
While the host was selecting contestants for the first round, Yayoi lowered her camera, glanced around casually—
Then her eyes lit up.
She walked straight from the media area to the sidelines.
Before she could speak, Nango smiled.
"Long time no see, Miss Aida."
"Heh, it hasn't been that long." Yayoi smiled back, then glanced sideways. "And who's this?"
Nango rested his hands lightly on Kano's shoulders.
"My girlfriend. Kano."
"Kano, this is Aida Yayoi—reporter for Basketball Weekly. She's interviewed me before."
Kano smiled politely.
"It's nice to meet you, Miss Aida."
"Likewise." Yayoi shook her hand.
After a brief exchange, Yayoi got straight to the point.
"Nango—interested in playing against an NBA star?"
"I'd love to," Nango replied without hesitation. "But could you help look after Kano? There are too many people here."
Opportunities like this didn't come often.
Of course he wanted to try.
After the first game ended, the host "randomly" selected Nango and four other audience members.
As Nango stepped onto the court, Fukuda walked straight toward him.
The message was obvious.
You're mine.
"Hey—isn't that Nango Koichiro from Shohoku?!"
"The Shohoku team that won the championship this year?"
"That's him!"
"Fukuda's going after him—revenge for the prefectural tournament?"
"He's crazy. Nango's this year's MVP!"
The crowd buzzed instantly.
With basketball fans filling the venue, it wasn't hard for people to recognize him.
The atmosphere heated up fast.
Barkley, who didn't understand a word of Japanese, assumed the cheers were for him and waved enthusiastically.
The second match began immediately.
No jump ball.
The audience team attacked first.
The moment play started, Nango cut off Fukuda and reached out for the ball.
After receiving it, the two faced off beyond the three-point line—only briefly.
Nango took a probing step to the side—
Then suddenly drove straight down the middle, blowing past Fukuda and heading toward the paint guarded by Sir Barkley.
In that fleeting moment, a thought crossed Barkley's mind.
Interesting kid.
Just from the ball handling alone, he could tell Nango knew what he was doing.
Nango secured the ball at his waist, smoothly shifting into a triple-threat stance.
His probing steps were simple, fluid, and efficient—
The kind that came only from relentless practice.
That earned Barkley's attention.
But only some.
If this was all, there were countless players like him back in America.
After beating Fukuda, Nango didn't accelerate further.
Instead, he slowed.
Then—about a step and a half from Barkley—
He stopped abruptly and rose for a jump shot.
Oh.
Exactly as Barkley expected.
He'd dominated the paint in the previous game—half out of laziness, half because no one dared challenge him there.
Barkley turned, preparing for the rebound—
The next second—
Swish!
The ball dropped cleanly through the net.
"Nice shot!"
"One more!"
"Told you Fukuda wasn't a match!"
"Let's take down Barkley too!"
The crowd erupted.
Still relaxed, Barkley clapped toward Nango, as if saying:
Not bad, kid.
Nango merely smiled faintly and jogged back on defense.
That choice stunned the audience.
And annoyed them.
A 193 cm player—
Not guarding Barkley?
Instead, he left a random 180 cm teammate in the paint.
"Hey, man, shouldn't you be guarding inside?" someone whispered nervously.
Nango waved casually.
"It's fine. Just relax and have fun—don't put too much pressure on yourselves."
The teammate near the basket was on the verge of tears.
Easy for you to say…
Though this was labeled a "friendly match," Nango had no intention of holding back.
Opportunities like this were rare.
And—
He wasn't without a chance.
When he first saw Barkley, Nango had been shocked by his build.
But after watching the first game, he understood.
Offseason indulgence.
Poor self-discipline.
Out-of-shape.
All normal for Barkley.
Especially after losing the NBA Finals.
Losing to anyone else was one thing—
But losing to Michael Jordan?
That humiliation would follow him for life.
Jordan would never let him forget it.
With his body out of form and his mood at rock bottom—
Charles Barkley's competitive state was currently…
A complete mess.