"Hey! Hiroshi!"
Meihou Technical's old coach shouted, spittle flying everywhere.
"How many times have I told you?!"
"A dunk is a dunk! Stop hanging on the rim every single time!"
"See?! You got another technical!"
Morishige Hiroshi turned his head toward his coach.
A wide grin spread across his face, revealing a mouthful of dazzling white teeth.
His smile looked simple and honest...
Yet strangely intimidating.
"Hehehe..."
He raised a carrot-thick finger and pointed toward the Aiwa players.
The elite athletes who normally ruled Aichi Prefecture without opposition.
Now, every one of them was clutching their chests or thighs, their eyes unfocused, looking like survivors of a major traffic accident.
"But..."
Morishige's voice was low and muffled, carrying the untamed wildness of a beast that had yet to fully evolve.
"Every time I dunk..."
"...there are always two or three guys lying underneath."
There wasn't the slightest trace of human sympathy in his eyes.
Only the satisfaction of a predator after a successful hunt.
"...It feels great."
...
The game continued.
The Star of Aichi, Moroboshi Dai, who had been carried off on a stretcher...
Received emergency treatment and rushed back to the bench without stopping.
"Sub me in!"
"I'm going back out there!!"
Moroboshi shoved the team doctor aside, his eyes bloodshot.
Having someone completely humiliate him...
If he swallowed that insult, how could Aiwa Academy ever hold its head high again?
A star player was a star player after all.
Even while badly injured, Moroboshi relied on sheer determination to bury consecutive three-pointers and draw multiple fouls, single-handedly breathing life back into Aiwa.
As for the "human tank," Morishige Hiroshi...
He was eventually ejected after sending both man and ball flying with an overwhelmingly violent block.
His sixth foul.
Or rather...
His graduation certificate.
"Chance!!"
"That monster's been sealed away!!"
The entire Aiwa team exploded with renewed energy, launching a desperate counterattack.
Unfortunately...
The hole they had dug earlier was simply too deep.
There was no climbing out of it.
68–74.
The final buzzer sounded.
Aiwa Academy...
Defeated.
Meihou Technical—
A team with almost no sophisticated tactics, relying almost entirely on one overwhelming monster...
Stepped over the corpse of the former king and claimed Aichi's No. 1 seed for the National Tournament.
The entire arena erupted.
"The sky over Aichi..."
"...has changed."
Maki Shinichi folded his arms across his chest.
His gaze remained fixed on Morishige, who was absentmindedly drinking water despite having just won the championship.
His brows knit tightly together.
"Why so tense, Maki?"
Makino Juro leaned lazily against the railing, casually swirling an ice-cold can of cola in his hand.
He looked less like someone watching an intense basketball game...
And more like someone watching neighborhood aunties dancing in the public square.
Maki turned toward him with a serious expression.
"A kid like that..."
"Someone whose talent is nothing but pure physical dominance..."
"If he reaches the National Tournament, he'll become a massive wildcard."
His gaze shifted toward the two Shohoku first-years.
"Shohoku has incredible momentum this year."
"But if you run into an unreasonable monster like him..."
"...even your team could be overturned."
"Overturned?"
Sakuragi Hanamichi, who had remained silent until now, suddenly shouted.
He exchanged a glance with Kiyota Nobunaga.
One look was enough.
Neither of them was willing to admit defeat.
The next second...
These two rivals unexpectedly moved in perfect sync.
Both stretched out their right hands...
And simultaneously pointed their thumbs downward.
"Tch!"
Sakuragi curled his lip in disdain.
"Who the hell does that guy think he is?"
"He's nothing more than an oversized pig that charges around with brute force!"
"This genius could beat him with one hand tied behind his back!"
For once, Kiyota stood firmly on Sakuragi's side.
"Exactly!"
"There's no beauty in the way he plays."
"He can bully weak teams in Aichi all he wants."
"But if he faced Kanagawa's teams..."
"We'd teach him what real basketball looks like!"
Watching these two utterly clueless troublemakers...
Maki rubbed his temples helplessly.
He felt like his hairline had receded another centimeter.
"You two..."
"Relax, old man."
Juro took another sip of cola, his eyes fixed on Meihou's players celebrating below.
"When we actually meet them at Nationals..."
"...someone will teach him the meaning of defeat."
...
At the Anzai residence...
The bamboo shishi-odoshi struck the stone basin with a heavy clack, breaking the silence.
"Right now..."
"...you're still inferior to Sendoh."
Those words struck like a sledgehammer, shattering Rukawa Kaede's pride.
Rukawa abruptly looked up.
His perpetually sleepy eyes had become frighteningly sharp.
He refused to accept it.
"I..."
His fingers dug into his knees until his knuckles turned white.
Coach Anzai adjusted his glasses.
The glare concealed his eyes...
But not the sharpness in his voice.
"Have you ever truly reviewed your games?"
"When Ryonan was falling apart..."
"How did Sendoh control the entire team?"
"And you?"
"When you faced Kainan..."
"When you were trapped by Ryonan's defense..."
"What did you do..."
"...besides trying to fight alone?"
Rukawa bit his lip.
Silence.
Images from those games replayed inside his mind.
Sendoh's passing.
Sendoh's leadership.
That infuriatingly relaxed smile.
"You said you want to go to America."
Coach Anzai's voice became stern.
Gone was the gentle old grandfather everyone knew.
"If you haven't even mastered basketball in Kanagawa..."
"...what are you planning to do in America?"
"Run away?"
Rukawa bristled like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
"I'm not—"
"If you change places before reaching your limit..."
"...that is running away."
Coach Anzai interrupted him without hesitation.
"There will be even stronger opponents waiting for you at the National Tournament."
"Players more gifted than Sendoh."
"More composed than Maki."
"And perhaps..."
"...even more monstrous than Juro."
The two looked directly into each other's eyes.
A breeze swept through the courtyard.
Bamboo leaves rustled softly.
After a long silence...
Coach Anzai sighed and gently blew across his teacup.
"In any case..."
"Become the No. 1 high school player in Japan first."
Rukawa's entire body trembled.
The No. 1 high school player in Japan.
Those words ignited a blazing fire deep within his eyes.
"When you've accomplished that..."
"...it won't be too late to go to America."
Rukawa slowly stood.
He bowed deeply.
"Yes."
As he turned to leave...
The confusion that had clouded the boy's back was gone.
He now resembled a freshly sharpened blade—
Cold.
Sharp.
And dazzling.
...
Nagoya.
The corridor behind the tournament arena.
The match had just ended.
The hallway was packed shoulder to shoulder.
The sweet smell of popcorn filled the air.
Sakuragi Hanamichi walked at the front with both hands in his pockets.
His swagger screamed, I own this place.
Coming toward them...
Was a group of towering players dressed in white jerseys.
Meihou Technical.
At their center stood Morishige Hiroshi—the same monster who had dominated the court moments ago.
A towel hung around his neck.
His massive frame alone blocked nearly half the hallway.
The two groups met head-on.
"Oh?"
Sakuragi's eyes lit up.
A mischievous grin spread across his face.
"Isn't that the fat guy who was hanging from the rim?"
Move aside?
Not happening.
The word "yield" didn't exist in the dictionary of this genius.
Since they'd be rivals sooner or later...
He might as well greet him the way men did.
The distance between them grew shorter.
Then...
The instant they passed each other...
Sakuragi suddenly twisted his shoulder and slammed forward like a charging red bull.
However...
The scene he had imagined never happened.
Bang!
A dull collision echoed through the hallway.
Sakuragi felt as though he had crashed into a reinforced concrete wall.
An overwhelming recoil surged back through his body.
Even his bones seemed to rattle.
"Nani?!"
He completely lost his balance and landed flat on his backside with a loud thud.
"Ow... ow..."
Sakuragi stared upward in disbelief at the giant who hadn't moved even a single inch.
So this...
...was the power of one hundred kilograms?
Did this guy grow up eating livestock feed?
Only then did Morishige seem to realize he'd bumped into something.
He glanced sideways at the redhead sitting on the floor.
There was no mockery.
No apology.
Only complete indifference.
"Oh."
"Sorry."
After saying that...
He simply continued walking.
As though he had accidentally kicked an ordinary pebble lying by the roadside.
"You bastard!!"
Sakuragi's face flushed crimson with rage as he scrambled to his feet, ready to get his revenge.
But suddenly...
A dark figure shot past him.
Makino Juro.
His hands remained tucked inside his pockets.
His stride wasn't particularly large...
Yet in an instant, he had appeared directly behind Morishige.
The lazy smile that usually lingered on Makino Juro's face had completely disappeared.
Replacing it...
Was a cold expression.
And a faint, eerie violet gleam flickering deep within his eyes.
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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