Hiroshima Gymnasium.
The air seemed to have frozen solid.
Then the head referee blew his whistle.
The game was underway!
Shohoku's starting five remained the same, a lineup built for sheer impact.
Beneath their red-and-white jerseys was the confidence forged through countless hours of sweat over the past several months.
But today, the players standing across the center circle were completely different.
Toyotama High of Osaka, an A-rank powerhouse.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, and the look in their eyes wasn't that of players facing opponents.
They looked like hunters sizing up their prey.
Especially the point guards.
Ryota Miyagi stood directly in front of Daijiro Itakura, his head barely reaching the other man's chin.
The fifteen-centimeter height difference was magnified endlessly beneath the arena lights, like an impassable chasm separating them.
Itakura wore his hair in a short buzz cut, and his eyes carried an infuriating sense of contempt.
He lowered his head slightly, looking down at the "shorty" in front of him, the corners of his mouth curling into a mocking smile.
"Hey."
Itakura's voice wasn't loud, but every word carried a barb.
"Is Shohoku really that desperate?"
"They couldn't find anyone else, so they sent an elementary school kid out here to make up the numbers?"
Miyagi's hands stopped while he adjusted his wristband.
The earring in his left ear flashed beneath the lights.
Slowly, he raised his head.
He didn't answer.
His eyes simply turned cold in an instant, like a wildcat whose tail had just been stepped on.
Elementary school kid?
With that mouth of yours... someone ought to rip it apart.
Miyagi took a deep breath, every muscle in his body tightening.
At center court, the tip-off began.
Takenori Akagi roared and swung his arm upward like a black iron hammer, smashing toward the ball.
With his overwhelming height advantage, he overpowered Iwata and got his fingertips to the ball first!
Smack!
The ball was tipped toward Shohoku's half.
Almost simultaneously, a streak of black lightning tore through Toyotama's defense.
Kaede Rukawa!
Still as a maiden at rest, swift as a startled hare.
"He's fast!"
"That's the opening attack he used against Kainan!"
In the stands, Nobunaga Kiyota shot to his feet.
Miyagi caught the ball cleanly, his eyes sharpening.
Fast break!
All he had to do was get the ball out, and Rukawa would have a clear path to the basket!
He pushed the ball up the court.
But just past half court, a massive shadow suddenly descended over him.
Daijiro Itakura.
The 183-centimeter point guard stood in front of him like a wall, spreading his long arms and blocking out most of Miyagi's vision.
"Trying to get past me?"
Itakura's nauseating grin was right in his face.
"Keep dreaming, shorty."
Shorty.
The word was like a red-hot needle driven straight into Miyagi's nerves.
You look down on me?
You think being short makes me easy prey?
The pass that should have left his hands immediately stalled for half a second.
Rukawa had already broken into open space.
But Miyagi didn't pass.
His temper had gotten the better of him.
I'll get past you.
Right here. In front of everyone.
I'll blow past this bastard!
He lowered his center of gravity.
Crossover.
Explosive change of direction.
Acceleration!
Miyagi tried to beat Itakura with pure speed.
"Miyagi! What are you doing?!"
Akagi's furious voice came from behind him.
"Pass the ball!!"
That shout was like a bucket of ice water dumped over Miyagi's head.
He snapped back to reality.
Damn it!
Rukawa was already nearing the baseline.
If he didn't pass now, the opportunity would be gone!
Miyagi gritted his teeth, using a burst of strength to squeeze past Itakura by half a step.
His wrist snapped.
The long pass was launched.
The basketball traced a high arc toward the frontcourt.
But the instant the ball crossed half court...
A figure suddenly sprang out like a phantom.
No. 4, Tsuyoshi Minami.
He had seemingly predicted the passing lane from the beginning.
Or perhaps he had been waiting for it.
Waiting for Miyagi to lose his composure and make a mistake.
"Too slow."
Minami coldly uttered three words and leaped high.
SMACK!
The basketball was intercepted in midair!
"What?!"
Miyagi's expression changed drastically.
The entire arena erupted.
"He picked it off!"
"Toyotama captain Minami with the interception!"
The Toyotama stands exploded instantly, waves of mocking laughter and abuse crashing down.
"Stop showing off, you little shrimp!"
"Go home and drink your milk!"
Miyagi stood frozen, his face turning ashen.
A turnover.
On the very first possession of the game, his own impulsiveness had thrown it away.
But Toyotama didn't give him even a second to regret it.
Transition!
That was the terrifying thing about an A-rank powerhouse.
The instant they secured possession, every Toyotama player moved like a killing machine wound to the limit.
Their transition speed was frightening.
Run-and-Gun.
A full-court offensive barrage.
The tempo of the game exploded instantly.
Minami landed and flicked the ball forward toward the streaking Itakura.
"Run!"
Minori Kishimoto roared as he sprinted into the frontcourt.
Itakura pushed the ball forward.
Miyagi was retreating to defend, but Itakura didn't slow down in the slightest.
"Captain! Take it!"
He shouted as though he were about to pass, forcing Shohoku's defense to collapse inward.
But instead, his wrist suddenly flipped.
A behind-the-back bounce pass!
The ball slipped between Mitsui's legs and found Kishimoto cutting into the paint.
Or so it seemed.
It was a return pass!
The ball came straight back to Itakura, who had continued his run.
"Damn it!"
Miyagi immediately realized what was happening and tried to recover.
But his smaller frame was hopelessly outmatched against Itakura charging at full speed.
It was like trying to stop a freight train with a sheet of paper.
"Move!"
A vicious glint flashed through Itakura's eyes as he drove his shoulder straight into Miyagi.
BAM!
A dull impact echoed through the court.
Miyagi felt an overwhelming force slam into him.
His balance disappeared.
He crashed heavily onto the floor and slid nearly two meters.
Itakura used the momentum to glide into an effortless layup.
Swish!
2–0.
The whistle blew.
The basket counted.
Itakura landed without immediately retreating on defense.
He turned around and looked down at Miyagi, who was still sitting on the floor.
Slowly, he raised his thumb.
Then...
He turned it sharply downward.
"Pathetic."
The word was quiet.
But it slipped clearly into Miyagi's ears.
"That's the difference between C-rank and A-rank."
"Shorty, this isn't a place you belong."
The floor beneath Miyagi was cold.
But inside his chest, a fire was burning.
Anger.
Humiliation.
Frustration.
The emotions twisted together until he nearly ground his back teeth to dust.
"Ryota!"
Akagi rushed over and pulled him to his feet, then gave him a hard slap on the back.
"Don't worry about it! Keep your head straight! It's only the beginning!"
Miyagi took a deep breath and shrugged Akagi's hand off.
"I know."
His head hung low, his bangs concealing his eyes.
His fingernails dug deeply into his palms.
"Give me the ball."
His voice was hoarse.
There was a vicious edge to it that sent a chill through the air.
Shohoku possession.
Miyagi received the inbound.
This time, there was no hesitation.
Whoosh!
Full speed.
Lightning fast!
He shot across the court like a red bullet.
Too fast!
Even the camera operators nearly lost track of his afterimage.
"Trying to beat me with speed?"
Itakura sneered as he slid sideways to cut him off.
But this time, Miyagi didn't give him the chance to make contact.
Hard stop.
Between-the-legs retreat.
The shamgod.
Itakura's center of gravity shifted.
Now!
Miyagi exploded forward again.
One step.
He was past him!
Clean and decisive!
"He got through!"
Yohei Mito shouted from the stands.
The path ahead was wide open.
Miyagi charged straight toward the basket!
"Don't even think about it!"
A roar came from the side.
Toyotama forward Minori Kishimoto had already rotated over.
At 188 centimeters with a powerful build, he stood beneath the basket like a mountain, his long arms blotting out the sky.
"Die, shorty!"
Facing the block, Miyagi twisted his body in midair and glanced toward the left.
Akagi had followed the play perfectly.
He was wide open!
"Captain!"
Miyagi flicked his wrist.
A precise bounce pass!
If Akagi caught it, it would be an unstoppable power dunk!
But just as everyone thought the play was guaranteed to succeed...
Kishimoto smiled.
The hand he had originally raised to block the shot didn't move.
Instead, his other hand, hanging at his side, suddenly shot downward like a striking snake.
SMACK!
The basketball was intercepted halfway there!
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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