The color drained from Akagi Takenori's face in an instant.
A violent twisting pain shot up from his ankle, racing through his nerves and exploding in his brain. Cold sweat soaked through his jersey almost immediately.
"Ugh…"
A muffled groan escaped him, forced down to its absolute limit.
The pillar of Shohoku—who had always landed steady as a rock—
collapsed like a toppled mountain, crashing heavily onto the floor.
Thud!
The sound was heavier than any dunk before it—slamming straight into the hearts of everyone from Shohoku.
Akagi curled up on the ground, clutching his ankle with both hands. His face twisted in agony, teeth grinding audibly.
The basketball rolled away, abandoned.
"Beeeep! Timeout!!"
The referee's sharp whistle cut through the air.
The roaring arena fell silent in an instant, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out.
"G-Gorilla…?"
The smile froze on Sakuragi Hanamichi's face—awkward, fragile, almost tragic.
He stared blankly at Akagi lying on the ground.
That man… the one who never fell, no matter how hard he was hit…
the monster-like figure…
…had fallen?
"Captain!!"
Miyagi, Rukawa, and Mitsui rushed over like madmen.
In the stands, Kogure Kiminobu dropped his water bottle with a clatter, his face pale.
"How… how could this happen… at a time like this…"
It was Akagi's old injury.
A hidden danger left over from the previous game against Ryonan—now flaring up again.
The consequences… were unthinkable.
Shohoku's bench descended into chaos.
Ayako sprinted onto the court with the first aid kit. Normally sharp and composed, her hands trembled violently as she untied Akagi's shoe.
When the sock came off—
the swollen ankle, puffed up like over-fermented dough, was exposed.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
Dark purple bruising spread beneath the skin—shocking to behold.
"No… it's too serious…"
"He can't keep playing. He needs to go to the hospital immediately!"
Ayako's voice shook, tears already spilling over.
"N-No… I'm not leaving…"
Akagi suddenly opened his eyes, bloodshot and fierce.
"Wrap it… I can still play…"
He grabbed Ayako's wrist, his voice hoarse, like he had swallowed sand.
"Play?! Your bones might be broken!" Ayako shouted, tears streaming.
"Akagi! Calm down!"
Mitsui pressed down on his shoulders, his expression complicated.
"Even if I have to crawl… I'll crawl to the final buzzer…"
Akagi panted heavily, his gaze locked onto the scoreboard.
For three years...
this was the closest he had ever been to his dream.
How could he fall here?
How could everything end because of something as trivial as an injury?
Despair spread among Shohoku like a plague.
Without their pillar in the paint…
how could they possibly fight a team led by Maki Shinichi?
"…Sigh."
In the suffocating silence, an utterly out-of-place sigh drifted from the bench.
Lazy. Helpless. With a hint of just-woke-up irritation.
Everyone turned instinctively.
The player wearing No.16—who had been slumped in his chair pretending to be dead—
was now standing.
Makino Juro reached up and pulled off his jacket, revealing the black-and-red jersey underneath.
He rolled his neck—crack, crack—and began stretching at a leisurely pace.
As he stretched, he muttered under his breath, just loud enough to be heard:
"If you're injured, then rest properly."
When he raised his head—
those half-lidded, sleepy eyes were fully open.
Deep within those dark pupils, something feral stirred awake.
Coach Anzai's glasses flashed.
"Juro…"
"Old man, make the substitution."
Makino Juro straightened up.
"Let that gorilla cool off on the bench."
"As for the game…"
He pointed toward the scoreboard, a confident, almost arrogant smile curling at his lips.
"Leave it to me."
Three simple words.
Yet they swept through the team like a powerful wind, instantly dispersing the gloom hanging over Shohoku.
"Juro…"
Akagi, lying on the stretcher, struggled to lift his head.
Looking at that usually lazy figure—
he suddenly seemed… incredibly reliable.
Just as Makino Juro reached the sideline, ready to step onto the court...
something unexpected happened.
From the stands behind Shohoku's bench—
a wave of perfectly synchronized cheers erupted.
"Makino Juro! Let's go!!"
"Makino Juro! Crush them!!"
"Makino Juro! You're awesome!!"
The shouts, echoed through the arena—out of place, yet burning with warmth.
Makino Juro froze mid-step.
…Did I hear that right?
Was I imagining things?
He turned his head in disbelief.
Amid the sea of spectators—
a striking splash of red stood out.
A group of teenagers—seventeen, eighteen years old—faces full of youth and fire.
There were only about a dozen of them.
But their spirit alone overwhelmed the hundreds around them.
At the front, several boys held up a handmade banner:
[Makino Juro Support Club]
Below it, in smaller, almost ridiculous text:
[Join us. Let's slack off together.]
"…Pfft."
Makino Juro almost broke on the spot.
These guys…
they really got him.
At the very front stood a cute black-haired girl, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shining like a tiny sun.
The moment Makino Juro looked over, she started jumping excitedly, waving both hands wildly.
"Who are they? Makino Juro's friends?"
"Whoever they are, that energy is insane!"
Makino Juro looked at the fluttering "Slacking-Off Banner."
seeing that slightly cringey banner—
something inside him shifted.
This game…
was no longer just about missions, showing off, or even Shohoku.
It was about not letting these people down.
Makino Juro took a deep breath and turned toward them.
He raised his right hand and gave a small wave.
Then, he gave a thumbs-up, flashing a bright grin.
"WAAAAAHHHH!!!"
The students exploded instantly, their cheers nearly lifting the stands.
"He saw us! He responded!!"
"Makino Juro is so cool! We've got this!!"
"Shout until your throats break! We can't lose in spirit!!"
Makino Juro turned back, the smile slowly fading from his face.
In its place—
was a cold, unprecedented focus.
He stepped onto the court.
With every step, his laziness peeled away.
The moment his feet touched the hardwood...
the laid-back Makino Juro disappeared.
In his place stood a court demon—
a player wielding the power of the "Generation of Miracles," ready to take over the game.
He walked up to Sakuragi, who was still lost in confusion and anger—
and smacked the red-haired head hard.
Smack!
"What are you spacing out for, idiot?"
His voice was calm—but steady enough to ground anyone.
Sakuragi clutched his head, eyes watering.
"Master… Gorilla, he…"
"He won't die."
Makino Juro cut him off.
His gaze passed over Sakuragi—
locking onto the imposing figure of Maki Shinichi on the opposite side.
"Since the gorilla's out, you guard the paint."
"As for that middle-aged guy…"
Makino Juro rolled his wrist, a glint of excitement flashing in his eyes—
the thrill of a hunter spotting top-tier prey.
"I'll show him…"
"who the real king is."
[System Notification]
[Akashi Seijuro Template]
[Activated!]
END OF CHAPTER
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The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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