What big trouble?
Training, training, and more fucking training.
The team dispersed.
Luke Young called over the starting shooting guard, Dave, and spoke to him quietly.
Like a loving father, he said: "Dave, I hate losing my temper at you like that. I really do. Many times, I want you to become a great player even more than you want it yourself. Seeing you waste your talent breaks my heart."
Blah, blah, blah.
The gist was: I was wrong to yell at you, but it's for your own good, so don't blame me—be grateful instead.
First humiliate them, destroy their confidence, then personally rebuild their belief. This was how many American coaches trained players.
Luke Young wanted to use this approach on Yuuto too, but one look at that bastard's face and he couldn't get a single word out.
He realized Yuuto wasn't some simple-minded guy—he was far more difficult to handle and required different methods.
4 PM.
Their opponents, Marian Catholic High School, arrived at Covanord.
First game of the new season—everyone wanted a good start.
Though Covanord was technically stronger, Marian Catholic wasn't completely without hope.
They were in the same tier.
Yuuto chose number 10 as his jersey number. No special meaning—he just liked the number.
However, the Asian ace didn't make the starting lineup.
Luke Young appeared to have zero faith in him, directly putting third and fourth-year players on the court.
This arrangement seemed safe, but Yuuto knew that Walker, that bastard, hadn't come back to the dorm last night—he'd been out partying with a new fling. Right now he was probably still hungover.
Truly a man committed to enjoying his youth. Everything else came after pleasure—even daring to mess around the night before the season opener.
So just ten minutes into the game, Covanord—playing at home—was down 5 points in a difficult position.
Luke Young couldn't sit still. He shouted, "Yu!"
Yuuto immediately stood and walked to his side.
"Go score. And lock down that damn number 23!"
Number 23!
Marian Catholic's starting shooting guard.
That number held special meaning in the basketball world—it was Jordan's jersey.
Anyone who dared wear that number had some confidence.
"Got it."
Yuuto quickly got his chance to play, replacing starting player Dave.
This kid, who had just received Luke Young's pep talk, had dejection written all over his face as he came off.
Luke Young didn't immediately brew fresh chicken soup for him—he stayed focused on the court.
"Fellas, look—an Asian!"
Marian Catholic's number 23, Ziegler, saw Yuuto enter and made no attempt to hide his contempt.
Marian Catholic erupted in mockery—especially the Black players, who laughed the loudest.
These guys got discriminated against by white people daily, always shouting for equality, yet they were the worst when it came to racial discrimination themselves.
"Shut your stinking mouth. Unless you want the whole country to know you're a racist tomorrow—then you can kiss any good university goodbye."
Yuuto opened with a kill shot.
Nobody wanted the racist label—once it stuck, you were done.
Even if many people privately looked down on Asians, the smart ones kept such thoughts buried deep inside.
Once some fool ripped off the mask, these "smart" people would privately agree while publicly attacking the racist from their moral high ground—to show off their decency and manners.
Ziegler actually shut up, his face flushed red.
He wanted to retort, but his limited brain cells couldn't help him find a comeback.
"You just wait, yellow monkey." This time he didn't dare speak loudly.
As long as no one heard it, there was no evidence, right?
He actively called for the ball, intending to teach this Asian kid a lesson.
Ziegler stood 6'5", had a strong build, well-rounded technique—a player with no obvious weaknesses.
But his talent was limited. Otherwise, such a versatile player would have already carried Marian Catholic to greatness.
Look at Garnett, look at Kobe, look at LeBron.
During their high school years, they were all super-talents capable of single-handedly turning games around.
Ziegler caught the ball and immediately attacked, trying to overpower Yuuto physically.
But the moment Yuuto's Demon Eyes flashed, he stuck his hand out and swiped—like swatting a fly.
Slap!
Steal.
"WOW!"
The crowd gasped.
Only one thought in their minds: That easy?
It really was that easy.
Yuuto squeezed past Ziegler, caught up to the loose ball, and immediately launched a fast break. Ziegler scrambled to keep up but was shaken so badly he nearly fell.
"Fuck, what the hell was that?" His eyes went wide as saucers.
Black people's racial gift—aside from rapping—was that against their skin tone, when they widened their eyes, the whites looked especially huge. Quite intimidating.
Yuuto stopped in front of him, gathered the ball, jumped, and shot.
Swish!
The ball went in. Yuuto scored his first points as a Covanord player.
Luke Young wanted to explode again.
You already shook the guy to his knees—why not attack the paint for an easier score?
But when the ball swished through, he immediately shut up, even clapped a little, his expression constipated.
After scoring, Yuuto immediately got back on defense, then stripped Ziegler again on the next possession.
His eyes were too sharp. Ziegler felt like even the color of his underwear had been seen through.
Whether it was a fake or a direct drive, Yuuto predicted everything in advance.
In just 2 minutes, the score was 19-18—Covanord had already overcome the 5-point deficit.
Ziegler bent over, gasping—not from exhaustion, but from shock.
Where the hell did this Asian come from?
Marian Catholic immediately called timeout.
As they walked off, their bodies crossed paths.
Yuuto said to him: "Your defense just now was pretty good. I mean when you dropped to your knees—I almost got so scared my hands shook."
Ziegler's expression looked like he'd swallowed a dead fly.
He discovered he couldn't even win a trash-talk battle against this damn Asian.
Marian Catholic's lead had been like a breeze.
They'd exploited Walker's sluggish start to score at will and build a decent lead.
But Yuuto's entrance completely disrupted Marian Catholic's momentum.
"This player from Asia, just a high school sophomore, goes by Yu according to his Covanord teammates!"
"Congratulations to Covanord—they've found a solid player who doesn't look like he's just messing around!"
The commentator introduced rookie Yuuto to the fans.
But he didn't have much information—only that Yuuto was from Asia, went by Yu, and some basic physical stats.
...
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