Sakuragi's movements froze.
He abruptly turned around.
There stood Makino Juro on the sidelines, both hands cupped around his mouth like a megaphone.
His voice was loud enough for the entire arena to hear.
"Are you seriously this stupid?!"
"How many times have I taught you? Don't let the other team dictate the pace!"
Juro pointed toward the referee on the court, who was just about to blow his whistle, and shouted with an expression of absolute exasperation:
"You want to throw hands?"
"Open up your horizons a little!"
"If you're going to play dirty, at least be subtle!"
"Learn how to block the referee's line of sight! Block his vision, got it?!"
"Use the referee's blind spot! Use your hips! Use a little dirty leverage!"
"Make the referee think you're innocent! And your facial expression has to sell it!"
The entire arena fell silent.
The referee, who still had the whistle between his lips, instantly turned black in the face.
He nearly choked.
He whipped his head around, eyes bulging as he stared daggers at the Shohoku bench.
What the hell is this?!
Was this guy seriously teaching a player how to commit a "legal crime" right in front of the referee?
And talking about exploiting blind spots?
Did he think this was a video game?!
"Ahem! AHEM!"
The referee coughed heavily twice.
His eyes were sharp enough to cut steel, and his warning couldn't have been clearer.
Makino Juro, however, acted as though nothing had happened.
He flashed the referee a wide grin, showing off a row of bright white teeth, then gave him a thumbs-up.
"Sorry, Ref. The kid's a little thick-headed. I'm just teaching him some basic physics."
The corner of the referee's mouth twitched violently.
He forcibly swallowed the whistle that was about to escape his lips.
Kainan's Section
Nobunaga Kiyota clutched his head with both hands, looking completely beside himself.
"AAAAAH! What the hell is Makino Juro doing?!"
"Is this really the time for comedy?! Shohoku is getting demolished!"
He pointed frantically toward the court, his trembling finger practically accusing reality itself.
"They're getting absolutely destroyed! Toyotama is walking through them like nobody's even there!"
"They scored nine points in barely a minute!"
"At this rate, Shohoku might as well buy their tickets home!"
Beside him, Coach Takato calmly waved his folding fan.
His flashy Hawaiian shirt looked particularly obnoxious beneath the arena lights.
Compared with Kiyota, however, he was remarkably composed.
"That speed..."
Takato narrowed his eyes and lightly tapped the folding fan against his palm.
"It's the classic Run & Gun."
"Forget defense. Put everything into agility."
"Use lightning-fast transitions to score before the opponent has even established their defensive formation."
"Once this kind of rabid-dog offense gets rolling, its scoring explosiveness is genuinely terrifying."
On the other side, Coach Anzai's glasses flashed with reflected light as he flipped through the "intelligence report" Hikoichi Aida had compiled overnight.
"As expected..."
"Every player on Toyotama is A-rank caliber. Their individual ability is extremely strong."
The old coach murmured quietly.
His voice was calm, yet heavy with seriousness.
Elsewhere in the stands, Sakuragi's friends were practically hanging off the railing, scratching their heads in desperation.
Nozomi Takamiya nearly dropped the potato chips in his mouth.
"Hey, hey, hey! No way! Are we really going to lose in the first game?!"
Yohei Mito frowned deeply.
"It's not a question of strength."
"They're playing too dirty. Hanamichi and Miyagi have both lost their composure."
"That's what's truly dangerous."
Haruko Akagi clasped her hands tightly against her chest, her knuckles turning white.
Watching her brother get knocked around...
Watching Sakuragi raging helplessly...
Her eyes reddened slightly, but an unusually strong look of disgust appeared in them.
"I hate them!"
Haruko bit her lip.
"This way of playing..."
"This isn't basketball!"
"It's street fighting!"
On the court, the air was thick with gunpowder.
Shohoku had possession.
Ryota Miyagi dribbled across half court, breathing heavily.
His left leg still throbbed with pain.
That was where Iwata had struck him earlier.
"Calm down..."
"Easy..."
Miyagi forced himself to slow down.
Don't rush.
The more desperate I get, the easier it is to fall into their trap.
Just then, a figure glided past Kaede Rukawa like a ghost.
Toyotama's captain.
No. 4, Tsuyoshi Minami.
His trademark side-parted hair framed a pair of eyes as cold as a venomous snake.
He glanced back at Rukawa, the corner of his mouth curling into a provocative smile.
His voice wasn't loud, but it landed perfectly in Rukawa's ears.
"So you're Shohoku's ace?"
Rukawa remained expressionless.
He glanced coldly at Minami as though he were nothing more than a patch of empty air.
Minami wasn't annoyed.
His eyes swept toward Makino Juro on the sidelines before returning to Rukawa.
They instantly became razor-sharp.
"Since that coward Juro doesn't have the guts to step onto the court..."
"Then I'll start with you."
"I hope this so-called super rookie has tougher bones than that little runt from earlier."
Rukawa's footsteps stopped.
His black bangs concealed his eyes, making his expression impossible to read.
But the air around him seemed to freeze instantly.
The temperature dropped several degrees.
"Idiot."
Rukawa spat out the word.
His voice was cold enough to freeze water.
Kainan's Section
The atmosphere seemed to solidify.
Watching the one-sided slaughter unfold, Nobunaga Kiyota gripped the railing until his knuckles turned white.
"This..."
"This has to be some kind of cheat code, right?"
Kiyota swallowed hard, his eyes wide.
"I knew Toyotama was an A-rank powerhouse, but this offense..."
"They don't even play like human beings!"
"Shohoku is completely overwhelmed. They can't even dribble across half court!"
"Snap."
Coach Takato slowly waved his folding fan, his brow furrowing slightly.
His gaze didn't linger on the glaring 9–0 on the scoreboard.
Instead, he stared at the Toyotama players running around the court like a pack of rabid dogs.
"This is Toyotama's tradition."
Takato's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unmistakable pressure.
"In the Osaka preliminaries, aside from the game they lost to Daiei High..."
He raised one finger and waved it in front of Kiyota.
"Their average score was 130.5 points per game."
"Huh?!"
Kiyota nearly choked.
His voice shot up an entire octave.
"130.5?! Average?!"
"Are they playing a video game?!"
For an ordinary high school game, scoring 80 points was already considered an explosive offensive performance.
An average of 130?
Did these guys mistake the basketball hoop for the ocean?
"Attack and nothing else."
"Forget defense. Use overwhelming scoring power to crush the opponent's mentality."
Takato closed his folding fan and pointed toward Itakura and Minami on the court.
"Even though they changed coaches this year, the blood of the 'rabid dog' still runs through this team's veins."
"Run & Gun."
"That's Toyotama High's trump card."
"The same Toyotama that has been a regular at the Interhigh."
Kiyota stared at Ryota Miyagi, who was drenched in sweat and looking increasingly battered.
A chill ran down his spine.
If Kainan encountered this kind of all-out, suicidal style...
"Then today..."
Kiyota turned toward his coach, his voice suddenly uncertain.
"Shohoku..."
"Are they finished?"
Their mentality was collapsing.
Their rhythm was in shambles.
Their defense was full of holes.
This was exactly how a complete collapse began!
Takato remained silent for two seconds.
His gaze passed through the noisy court and settled on the completely out-of-place figure sitting on the Shohoku bench.
Makino Juro.
That guy was wearing his jacket, legs crossed, chatting casually with Ayako.
He even had a bottle of water in his hand.
He looked less like a player and more like a VIP spectator who had bought a ticket specifically to watch the show.
"Hard to say."
Takato finally gave an ambiguous answer.
"Judging from the situation right now, Shohoku is doomed."
"But..."
He opened his folding fan again, hiding half of his meaningful expression behind it.
"That monster hasn't even gotten out of his seat yet."
"As long as Makino Juro is still sitting there..."
"This game isn't over."
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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