Kiyota Nobunaga froze for a moment.
Makino Juro again.
Even Coach Takato was this wary of that lazy bastard?
"Actually, Shohoku and Toyotama are the same kind of team."
Takato Riki suddenly turned toward Maki Shinichi, who had remained silent until now.
"Maki, what do you think?"
Maki Shinichi folded his arms across his chest, his bronze skin gleaming with a cold, hard sheen under the lights.
His sharp eyes were fixed intently on the matchup between Rukawa Kaede and Minami Retsu.
"Indeed."
Maki nodded, his voice deep and powerful.
"Shohoku is also a fast-break-oriented team."
"But right now, they've fallen straight into Toyotama's rhythm. They're completely playing at the other team's pace."
Maki paused, his expression growing more serious.
"That's exactly how Shoyo lost last year."
"Nani?!"
Kiyota Nobunaga once again delivered a legendary reaction, his mouth hanging so wide open it looked like he could stuff a light bulb inside.
"Fujima's Shoyo?! They got demolished too?!"
Shoyo, the second-ranked team in Kanagawa, had actually fallen victim to these rabid dogs as well?
"That kind of chaotic, unreasonable game is something even Fujima couldn't withstand."
Coach Takato sighed as he watched Miyagi get stripped of the ball yet again.
"At this rate, Shohoku will be blown out before halftime."
Maki didn't argue.
His gaze slowly shifted until it finally settled on that figure casually yawning on the bench.
"Probably."
Maki muttered under his breath.
"Unless…"
…
Shohoku Bench
The atmosphere was suffocating.
"Stay calm!! Don't panic!!"
Kogure Kiminobu rushed to the sideline, cupping his hands around his mouth.
"Just get one point! Even one point is fine!!"
The bespectacled veteran was genuinely panicking.
A disastrous opening like this was practically hell mode for Shohoku, a team with so little experience on the big stage.
On the court.
Miyagi Ryota was gasping for breath, his chest heaving like a bellows.
Sweat dripped from his chin and splattered onto the hardwood.
"Damn it…"
He glared at Itakura.
The buzz-cut bastard was deliberately positioning himself in the referee's blind spot while flipping Miyagi off.
His eyes were practically looking at Miyagi like a weakling waiting to be slaughtered.
In the stands, Toyotama's cheering section was beating drums and banging gongs, the noise threatening to blow the roof off the gym.
Meanwhile, the atmosphere on Shohoku's side of the court was so heavy it was suffocating.
On the court, Sakuragi Hanamichi was trembling.
Not from fear.
From rage.
Kishimoto Minori, the guy with the ponytail, was clinging to him like an indestructible piece of gum.
Not only was he sticking to Sakuragi like glue, his hands were dirty too.
One hand was secretly pinching Sakuragi around the waist, while his elbow occasionally jabbed into Sakuragi's ribs.
The movements weren't obvious.
But the sheer disrespect was off the charts.
"Hey, red-haired monkey."
Kishimoto's voice came from right beside Sakuragi's ear, dripping with a nauseating sense of superiority.
"Quit standing there like a training dummy. Move around a little."
"At least give me the feeling that guarding you requires some skill."
The veins on Sakuragi's forehead suddenly bulged.
"Get the hell away from me!"
He violently swung his arm, shoving Kishimoto away like he was swatting a fly.
Instead of getting angry, Kishimoto actually grinned.
He pressed even closer, practically going face-to-face with Sakuragi as he continued talking trash.
"Getting angry? Already?"
He pointed toward Miyagi, who was being relentlessly hounded by Minami and Itakura and looked utterly miserable.
"You still haven't even touched the ball, have you?"
"Could it be that your teammates… don't even dare pass to a basketball amateur like you?"
That sentence hit the exact target.
They don't dare pass to me?
They look down on this genius?!
Sakuragi whipped his head around, fire blazing in his eyes as he stared at Miyagi, who was struggling desperately to protect the ball.
"Little Ryota!!"
His roar shook the heavens and earth, forcibly drowning out the noise of the entire gym.
Miyagi's hands trembled from the shout.
In the middle of the chaos, he looked up and met Sakuragi's bloodshot eyes.
"Give me the ball!!"
Sakuragi spread his arms wide, like a starving beast demanding food.
Miyagi froze.
Give it to Hanamichi?
At a moment like this?
That guy was completely locked down by Kishimoto at the high post. He wasn't even in his comfortable territory around the basket where he could simply catch an easy pass!
"Hurry up!!"
Sakuragi roared again, stomping his feet so hard the floor shook.
"Damn it…"
Miyagi gritted his teeth.
Fine.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained!
With a flick of his wrist, the basketball became an orange streak of light and flew toward the high post.
Smack!
Sakuragi caught it securely with both hands.
For one second, it was as if the noisy world had suddenly been paused.
"Here we go!!"
In the corner of the stands, Mito Yohei suddenly sprang to his feet, scattering popcorn all over the floor.
"Hanamichi got the ball! Is he going to use that move?!"
Takamiya Nozomi, Ohkusu Yuji, and Noma all widened their eyes in unison, barely even breathing.
The results of his shooting practice during training camp.
His secret weapon.
Was this really the moment?!
On the court.
Sakuragi held the ball in both hands.
And his form…
was damn near perfect.
His left hand supported the ball, his right hand cradled it beneath, his knees were slightly bent, and his center of gravity was lowered.
The usual restless, wild energy that made him flail around like a madman had completely disappeared.
In its place was a textbook-like calmness.
Kishimoto Minori froze for a moment.
That stance…
At first glance, he really did look like a sharpshooter.
"You'll regret making this genius angry!"
Sakuragi growled, his eyes sharp as blades.
He jumped!
The red-haired figure launched himself into the air, and that terrifying vertical leap once again made everyone's scalp tingle.
Kishimoto reacted instantly.
"Going for a shot? In your dreams!"
He jumped after him, his long arms spreading like a canopy as he tried to block Sakuragi's vision.
But Sakuragi had jumped far too high.
That ridiculous hang time, completely contrary to the laws of physics, made it look as though he had simply stopped in midair for a full second.
"Nani?"
Kishimoto's heart skipped a beat.
His fingertips were still a full half-palm short of the ball.
He couldn't reach it!
Does this guy have springs installed in his legs?!
"Watch closely…"
At the very peak of his jump, Sakuragi gently flicked his wrist.
"Genius——SHOOT!!"
The basketball left his fingertips.
A perfect arc.
Perfect rotation.
Perfect shooting form.
At that moment, Akagi Haruko clasped both hands against her chest, her eyes sparkling.
"What a beautiful form!"
"Sakuragi-kun… he really learned it!"
Even Maki Shinichi from the Hainan section raised an eyebrow.
"That amateur… can actually shoot?"
Everyone's eyes were drawn toward that orange basketball.
It sailed over Kishimoto's fingertips.
Toward the basket.
Closer.
Closer still.
The hearts of everyone on Shohoku's side climbed into their throats.
It's in!
With that arc, there's no way it misses!
And yet…
Just as the basketball reached the space above the rim, it didn't descend.
Or rather…
It showed absolutely no intention of descending.
Carrying an absurd amount of backspin, the basketball arrogantly and straight-up…
flew over the rim.
Over the backboard.
It even flew completely over the entire basket support.
The smile on Haruko's face instantly froze.
"Eh?"
The heads of every spectator in the gym turned with the basketball, perfectly synchronized, like a field of utterly confused sunflowers.
The basketball traced an insanely long arc through the air, heading straight toward the stands behind the backboard....
Where the entire Hainan team happened to be sitting in the front row, happily watching the spectacle.
Kiyota Nobunaga was sitting there with his mouth hanging open, enjoying the show.
Suddenly, he saw an unidentified orange flying object hurtling toward him with an accuracy he had never experienced in his life.
He instinctively reached out.
Smack.
The basketball landed perfectly in his arms.
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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