Sora stared at the article, unable to look away for a long time. Her day's happiness was contained entirely in those English words.
Someone else who missed that dog of a man just as much was Momoi.
Tōō Basketball Club.
Imayoshi Shoichi and the others had already graduated; Harasawa Katsunori had become Tōō's new team manager.
Aomine was unusually diligent this year. Ever since learning that Yuuto had left Japan, he'd been like this constantly.
He couldn't accept that Yuuto had just... left like that.
It was basically saying, "I've already cleared this place. No opponents left."
He'd been completely ignored by Yuuto!
Aomine planned to follow Yuuto's example—dominate Japanese high school basketball, then go to America to get his revenge on Yuuto.
Then during practice, he suddenly heard Momoi exclaim from the sideline.
"Wow, Yuuto!"
"What's wrong? What's the fuss about?"
Aomine's ears perked up at "Yuuto." Only one person got called that by Momoi—it had to be that bastard.
He also knew that ever since Yuuto went to America, his childhood friend had been intensively surfing the web every day, searching for Yuuto news.
Aomine walked over and looked—only to see question marks.
English.
He couldn't read it!
But he saw the news image—a photo of Yuuto, hands spread wide in a "that's it?" cocky pose.
So he must've won the game?
"Yuuto won again! He scored a game-high 35 points and led Covanord to a 3-0 record."
Momoi's eyes sparkled as she read and re-read.
"The article also says Yuuto has caught ESPN's attention! His name will probably enter the top 100 rankings soon!"
Indiana's basketball talent didn't need questioning.
For example, the competition intensity in Indiana was equivalent to the Tokyo or Kanagawa regions in Japan!
Performing well in the Cornfield was proof enough of one's potential.
Hearing this, Aomine's expression immediately sharpened.
Without needing to be told, he turned around and voluntarily added extra practice.
Similar scenes were happening at many basketball clubs.
Mainly teams with Generation of Miracles members—they all paid close attention to Yuuto.
As basketball players, their goal obviously wasn't just to dominate Japan.
Now Yuuto was like a pioneer—he had already stepped into America.
Thus, Aomine and the others subconsciously used Yuuto as a benchmark to see whether they could establish themselves over there.
Currently, the pressure was significant.
Because in Japan, Yuuto could score as many points as he wanted per game.
50+, 60+, even 70+ or 80+—he could get them whenever he wanted. But in the NSAA, his per-game scoring had shrunk to around 30.
That was the gap!
As for Yuuto.
He had traveled with the team to Danville, facing Danville Community High School.
This school's claim to fame wasn't athletics but academics—a 92% college placement rate!
So tonight, Danville Community was going to suffer.
Their perimeter star was senior Julian Evans, who seemed intent on giving the recently hot Yuuto a reality check.
First possession, Evans used flashy crossovers to attack, trash-talking constantly.
"Welcome to the real basketball promised land, kid. I guarantee you'll be exposed."
Danville Community's crowd erupted in cheers.
They were all rooting for their team's star.
Then.
Yuuto's Demon Eyes flashed. His hand shot out, swatting the ball away like slapping a fly.
Slap!
Steal.
The cheering stopped dead. Danville Community's fans looked like ducks with their throats grabbed.
"Your dribbling is quite pretty. You'd be first-rate in a circus performance."
Yuuto's expression didn't change as he fired back.
Then he immediately pushed the fast break, tossing the ball to a teammate while sprinting toward the basket.
Through three games, Yuuto had earned his team's trust.
The moment he attacked the opponent's paint, his teammate immediately swung the ball back to him. Yuuto took off two steps inside the free-throw line and threw down a gliding tomahawk dunk for his first points of the game.
"Your closeout looks like a grandma taking a stroll in the park." Since coming to America, Yuuto had leveled up his trash talk significantly.
No choice.
The guys here all ran their mouths constantly, as if not talking shit made you inferior.
Yuuto could only adapt to local customs. So far, four people had already lost to him in verbal warfare.
"Yu answered Evans's challenge! A clean steal, a vicious gliding slam—that's Yu's response!"
"This is definitely one of the best plays of the week!"
"We also saw Evans and Yu get into a verbal exchange. Evans's face is quite red. Looks like poor Evans just got shut down by Yu."
Even the commentators found this amusing.
If this had happened at the college level, Yuuto believed it would've gained him even more exposure.
Shortly after.
The game lost all suspense. Covanord cruised to a 21-point victory over Danville Community.
Yuuto capitalized on nearly every scoring opportunity, shooting an absurd 79%. Defensively, he made Evans's life miserable.
He finished with 39 points, 7 rebounds, 6 assists, 4 steals, and 6 blocks—dominating across the stat sheet.
You could see Yuuto's performance improving game by game.
The Weakness Correction talent allowed him to quickly adapt to the competition level here—even improving every single game.
This discovery amazed even Luke Young.
He thought if Yuuto weren't such a troublemaker—constantly talking back—he'd be the perfect player.
Danville Community's head coach highly praised Yuuto's performance after the game.
"We tried some things, but nothing worked. Yu is like the Kobe Bryant of high school basketball—tonight he destroyed us with his scoring and defense!"
Cornfield reporters found Yuuto.
His consecutive high-efficiency performances had begun attracting local attention.
When asked what his goal was in coming here, Yuuto said:
"I wanted to see what's different about basketball here."
"And now? Have you seen any difference?"
"I can win in Asia. I can win in America. That's it."
Arrogant!
The moment his interview came out, it instantly enraged Indiana high school players.
They all clamored to teach this Asian hick a lesson—show him why America dominated world basketball.
...
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