Yuuto's arrogance had made him unforgettable across Indiana.
To succeed in American basketball, talent alone wasn't enough—you needed to know how to generate buzz. How else would you attract attention?
Even Jordan—without Nike backing him, would he have become the legend he was? They built each other up.
LeBron was an even better example.
Of course, fame came with consequences. Covanord's next game made that abundantly clear. Their opponents came after Yuuto with a vengeance.
The defensive intensity against him had more than doubled.
Coach Luke Young had no idea what to do with this troublemaker. Would it kill him to keep a lower profile?
He wanted to lecture Yuuto, but then noticed the damn kid was actually smiling.
Facing opponents who swarmed him like rabid dogs, Yuuto seemed to have awakened some special attribute, playing with even more confidence than before.
Of course, this wasn't any supernatural awakening—it was simply that the stronger his opponents' defense became, the stronger he became.
As long as he could analyze his own weaknesses, he could continuously improve.
Coach Young observed with wide eyes, then turned to his assistant. "Starting tomorrow, we're holding him to a completely different standard."
When the final buzzer sounded, Yuuto had put up 37 points, 8 rebounds, and 6 assists despite the intense pressure.
In the locker room, Luke Young marched up to him with fury written across his face. "What good does it do you to antagonize the entire state of Indiana? Why would you do this?"
"The stronger they are, the stronger I become. I came all the way to America for exactly this." Yuuto shrugged. "I have big ambitions."
His words bordered on heresy.
Luke Young thought he must have misheard—this rookie was actually comparing Asian basketball to America's.
"I don't see your ambitions. All I see is an arrogant fool who doesn't know his place, a cocky kid who's won a few games and forgotten who he is."
"I—"
"Don't speak until I'm finished. I don't want to discuss your ambitions right now. When you get back, you're adding thirty minutes each to your footwork and shooting drills."
Two and a half hours—that meant an extra hour of practice total.
Yuuto had no objections. After all, he was already adding extra training sessions after completing his daily regimen.
"You may speak now."
"No problem, Coach."
"GOOD! You look fantastic right now! If you can maintain this attitude every single day, you'll not only reach the NCAA that everyone dreams of—you might even make it to the NBA and strike it rich!"
Luke Young turned and told everyone to hit the showers.
Scoring 30+ in consecutive games quickly brought Yuuto into the spotlight of Indianapolis.
The locals didn't mind his arrogance and swagger—after all, geniuses were supposed to be like this. An arrogant player who couldn't back it up? Now that would be laughable.
Not every player could be like LeBron, calculating gains and losses like a grown adult from such a young age.
They appreciated Yuuto's purity.
Mainly because he genuinely appeared to have talent.
This proved a universal truth in sports: whether you're arrogant or not doesn't matter—what matters is whether you can back it up.
Now when Yuuto walked through school, he constantly received flirtatious glances from girls. They kept inviting him to meet in the school's wooded area at night, or to spend the night out, sending signals that couldn't have been more obvious.
Yuuto had become the guy every girl at Covanord most wanted to spend a night with.
But he had no interest in that sort of thing. Apart from occasionally going out with Walker, he spent most of his time practicing.
The NSAA season wasn't long.
It ran from November through March, almost in sync with the NCAA. Each state had different regular season schedules based on local circumstances.
Some states played only 20-plus games, while others could reach 40.
Then came playoffs, leading up to the state championship.
After that, the champion team earned the right to compete in the Nike High School National Invitational Tournament.
This Nike-sponsored national tournament brought together powerhouse teams from across America, including state champions and regional elites.
About 40 teams participated, representing the highest level of high school basketball in the country.
It was similar in nature to Japan's Inter-High, but far more intense.
But winning Indiana's state championship was no simple task.
Soon, Covanord faced their toughest challenge yet: Cicero Memorial High School—the team that had crushed them by over 30 points last year.
Before the game, Cicero Memorial's forward Wilson kept his eyes locked on Yuuto.
His complexion made him stand out—obviously the Asian everyone had been talking about lately.
Wilson walked over without any pretense of politeness. "Kid, I heard your trash talk is pretty impressive?"
"Don't act like you're my senior. This is a world where strength is everything. Come talk to me when you put up better numbers than mine." Yuuto glanced at him dismissively, contempt written all over his face.
Wilson's expression immediately darkened.
Damn Asian—weren't they supposed to be a bunch of meek pushovers?
Who spread that ridiculous rumor?
"Fine, your mouth is sharper than I expected. Sharper than that other Asian kid's—the one whose day-old dinner I beat out of him yesterday. Though his breath was more offensive."
He was trying to provoke Yuuto with the sensitive topic of race.
But Yuuto didn't take the bait.
Setting aside that this guy immediately revealed his scheming nature, Yuuto didn't have particularly warm feelings toward Asians in general anyway. Who knew if the guy was even Chinese?
Besides, Asian didn't necessarily mean Chinese—maybe the one who got beaten up was Korean.
"You disappoint me. So you equate being crude with being strong? Like a dog getting beaten while other dogs pile on, showing their strength by bullying the weak. No wonder you've never won a state championship."
"Bastard, you want to fight?"
"Didn't anyone tell you I know kung fu?"
Wilson was furious, but the moment he heard "kung fu," he couldn't help but hesitate.
He'd watched a movie online called Shaolin Soccer and had been terrified by it.
Hearing that Yuuto knew kung fu, half his fighting spirit evaporated instantly. He didn't want to get kicked dozens of meters through the air.
"Just you wait—once the game starts, you're going to pay!"
Make me pay?
Yuuto smiled. When the game started, he immediately found Wilson.
On his first offensive possession, from the right block, he used a pump fake to send his defender flying, then twisted his body mid-contact to draw the foul while somehow still banking in the shot.
This was clearly a combination of Himuro Tatsuya's fakes and Aomine's formless basketball.
"If this is what you meant by making me pay, I really should thank you."
Yuuto strolled to the free-throw line.
...
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