"Nani?!"
Maki Shinichi's pupils shrank to pinpoints.
In his vision, that amateur full of openings had vanished.
In his place remained only a crimson afterimage.
Fast!
Unreasonably fast!
So fast it defied common sense—defied physics itself!
Maki had only just jumped.
The ball hadn't even risen above his head yet.
And a hand...
A massive hand, cords of muscle bulging across it—
Had already descended like the sky collapsing.
No unnecessary movement.
Just one simple swat.
"PAH!!!"
The crisp explosion echoed through the entire arena.
The basketball flew away like a pathetic little fly, sent rocketing straight into the spectator stands.
"Bang!"
The ball smashed against the wall, bounced off, and rolled across the floor.
Dead silence.
Maki Shinichi remained frozen mid-shooting form even after landing, completely stunned.
He stared blankly at Sakuragi Hanamichi before him.
The red-haired boy lowered his head slightly.
Within those exposed eyes, there was none of Makino Juro's cold indifference, nor Rukawa Kaede's stubborn obsession.
Only an utterly natural arrogance.
Crimson lightning crackled wildly at the corners of his eyes.
As if cheering.
As if mocking.
Sakuragi slowly lifted his head and pointed a thumb at his own nose.
A smug grin spread across his face—one he clearly thought looked unbelievably cool.
"Oi, middle-aged guy."
"Who gave you permission to run wild on this genius's court?"
Sakuragi turned toward the dumbstruck Rukawa Kaede and clicked his tongue in disdain.
"What're you panting around for over there?"
"As for talent…"
He shrugged casually, the crimson glow around his eyes intensifying.
"Doesn't it just come naturally?"
"Seriously, I can't understand you ordinary people at all."
At that very moment.
On the bench, Makino Juro watched the red-haired monkey radiating ominous crimson energy while shamelessly showing off.
The corner of his mouth twitched.
"This cheat…"
"…is even more ridiculous than mine."
"So this is the so-called… Perfected Limit?"
"No, wait. This is just dumb luck blessing an idiot."
Makino Juro lay back down again, closed his eyes, and a faint smile curled onto his lips.
…
The world had been muted.
That was Sakuragi Hanamichi's first sensation after landing.
A moment ago, the gymnasium had been as noisy as boiling water.
Now, the screams, cheers, whistles—
All of it seemed sealed behind layers of bulletproof glass.
Dull.
Distant.
Even distorted.
Only one sound remained in his ears.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
His heartbeat echoed steadily like war drums, each pulse pumping scorching blood through every inch of his body.
Sakuragi lowered his head and looked at his own hands.
Just moments ago, these hands had swatted away the sure-kill shot of Kanagawa's Emperor.
His fingertips were slightly hot, yet not trembling in the slightest.
Instead, he felt something he had never experienced before—
Absolute control.
"Oi, red-haired monkey!!"
Kiyota Nobunaga's furious roar came from the side.
To Sakuragi, it sounded like a cassette tape slowed down to half speed.
Ridiculous.
Dragging.
Almost laughable.
From the corner of his eye, Sakuragi glanced over.
Too slow.
That guy who used to bounce around like a wild monkey in his eyes—
Now moved with absurd clarity.
The contraction of muscles.
The shifting of balance.
The direction of his gaze....
Everything was visible.
Not through his eyes.
But through his skin.
His pores.
Through an animalistic instinct sharper than radar.
The basketball bounced across the floor, rolling toward out-of-bounds.
Sakuragi moved.
Before the command save the ball even formed in his brain, his body had already reacted first.
A crimson bolt tore across half the court instantly!
Under the shocked gazes of spectators whose jaws nearly dislocated.
That red-haired figure exploded forward with terrifying speed, catching up to the ball at the very edge of the boundary line.
One-handed scoop.
"Pa."
The ball settled obediently into his palm like a pet raised at home.
Before, Sakuragi always felt basketball was some unruly punk.
Dribbling felt like fighting with it.
But now…
The ball felt as though it had grown directly from his hand.
An extension of his body itself.
Sakuragi turned around.
Facing Kainan's half-court, a savage grin spread across his face.
"GET BACK ON DEFENSE!!!"
Maki Shinichi's hoarse roar exploded behind him.
He desperately forced his lead-heavy legs forward.
His lungs wheezed violently like broken bellows as he chased after that crimson back.
Sakuragi never looked back.
But he could feel it.
Behind him, a cluster of purple flames was slowly dying out.
That was the middle-aged man's presence.
Weak.
Heavy.
And drowning in despair.
"Why's he so slow?"
Sakuragi began pushing the ball forward.
No flashy crossovers.
No unnecessary dribble moves.
Just the simplest straight-line charge.
But when extreme speed was added—
Simplicity itself became violent beauty.
"Stop him!!"
Takasago Kazuma spread his arms in desperation, trying to form the final line of defense.
Sakuragi looked at the giant who once seemed like a mountain to him.
Now?
Nothing but openings.
Weak left-foot balance.
Right-side ribs completely exposed.
And fear written all over his eyes screaming don't come closer.
"Move."
Sakuragi didn't slow down at all.
While sprinting at full speed, he suddenly performed an unbelievably smooth behind-the-back dribble.
He'd only ever seen Makino Juro use this move before.
Whenever Sakuragi practiced it himself, he usually smacked the ball straight into his own heel.
But now—
The instant the thought behind-the-back crossed his mind, his body perfectly recreated the move.
Even more textbook-perfect than the textbook itself.
The basketball flowed behind his back like a tame spirit, bouncing flawlessly from his right hand into his left.
Takasago Kazuma only saw a flash of red.
Then the man was already gone.
"BOOM!!!"
No suspense whatsoever.
Sakuragi Hanamichi soared into the air, his red sneakers seeming to step on invisible platforms in midair.
One hand gripping the ball like a mountain-splitting battle axe—
He slammed it viciously through the rim!
The basket support wailed in agony, as though begging for mercy.
56:44.
Sakuragi released the rim and landed, staring at the violently shaking net.
Then he tilted his head, looking utterly innocent.
"Huh?"
He muttered to himself, though the microphone carried his voice throughout the entire arena.
"That's weird…"
"When did the rim get shorter?"
…
Kainan's offensive possession.
Maki Shinichi held the ball.
Sweat dripped from his resolute jawline onto the hardwood, shattering like broken glass.
Tired.
More tired than ever before.
That exhaustion buried deep in his bones came not only from physical overuse—
But from the crushing blow to his spirit.
That last play…
That amateur…
No.
That was no amateur.
Maki stared fixedly at the boy before him—the teenager radiating scarlet energy with arms spread wide.
That was a monster.
"Give me the ball!!"
Jin Soichiro tried to break free for support.
But Rukawa Kaede clung to him like an untearable patch of dog-skin plaster, sticking so tightly Jin couldn't even breathe.
Maki had no choice but to do it himself.
He was the Emperor.
The pillar of Kainan.
He could not retreat.
"Haa…"
Adjusting his breathing, lowering his center of gravity—
Maki forcibly squeezed out the final remnants of strength within his body.
Trying to overpower Sakuragi using the physical dominance he trusted most.
"BAM!"
Shoulder slammed into chest.
But the opening he expected never appeared.
Instead, Maki felt as though he had crashed into a crimson steel wall.
The recoil numbed his entire shoulder.
Not moving an inch!
The old Sakuragi Hanamichi—the one who used to get blown away with every collision, whose defense leaked from every direction—was gone.
That collision's force vanished like a mud ox sinking into the sea, completely dissolved by the terrifying core strength inside Sakuragi's body.
"Your strength is kinda weak."
"Middle-aged guy."
Sakuragi's voice was light.
Filled with sincere confusion, his eyes clear and stupid.
"Are you hungry?"
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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