That line, which would normally sound like provocation—
coming from Sakuragi's mouth now, it sounded so sincere it made people want to cough up blood.
He genuinely thought Maki Shinichi had no strength left.
Maki gritted his teeth and forcefully spun around, trying to bait a foul with experience alone.
A pump fake.
A raise of the arms.
If this had been the old Sakuragi, he would've jumped like a startled grasshopper.
But now...
Sakuragi merely stared at him coldly, as if watching a clown perform.
He didn't jump.
His center of gravity didn't even shift.
"Fake."
"He's trying to trick this genius."
The judgment surfaced in Sakuragi's mind automatically, precise as a machine.
Maki's mentality cracked.
His fake had been seen through, leaving him no choice but to force up the shot.
And at that instant—
Sakuragi moved.
Like a hunting cheetah.
In that fleeting release window, the crimson hand sliced down with perfect precision.
"PA!"
A clean strip.
Sharp and decisive, without the slightest hint of a foul—an almost surgical steal.
The ball flew free.
Having lost his balance, Maki stumbled forward miserably.
Both hands slammed onto the floor as he gasped for air, sweat blurring his vision.
He watched that red figure pull away once again, and a deep sense of helplessness surged through his chest.
The despair of a mortal staring up at a god.
"Akagi…"
In the stands, Fujima Kenji had already crushed the drink bottle in his hand flat, plastic crackling loudly.
"Maki Shinichi… got broken."
"And not by Makino Juro—but by that… that first-year redhead?"
Beside him, Hanagata Toru pushed up his glasses.
"That state…"
…
On the court.
Rukawa Kaede slowed to a stop.
He watched Sakuragi Hanamichi complete another monstrous dunk before casually jogging back on defense like nothing had happened.
That ease.
That effortless dominance.
It was like taking a stroll through his own backyard.
Rukawa lowered his head and stared at his palm.
In his vision, the world was still crystal clear—
but layered with faint static.
That was the side effect of entering "Wildness."
He could sense his opponents' presence.
He could predict danger.
But his body still felt heavy, every movement requiring conscious commands from his brain.
And Sakuragi…
Rukawa slowly raised his head.
In those narrow fox-like eyes reflected the crimson aura practically overflowing from Sakuragi's body.
That door.
The door Rukawa had smashed himself bloody against, yet still failed to open.
That idiot…
Why was it so easy for him?
Could he really be a genius?
"Damn it…"
Rukawa clenched his teeth hard.
For the first time, an emotion called jealousy sprouted wildly inside the basketball fanatic's heart, spreading like untamed weeds.
But he didn't give up.
Though the red glow in his eyes had dimmed, it still burned.
"If I can't push it open…"
Rukawa stared viciously at the Kainan guard advancing with the ball, eyes savage enough to devour someone whole.
"Then I'll smash it open!!"
…
The remaining time in the game completely turned into Sakuragi Hanamichi's personal showcase.
Or rather...
a one-sided massacre.
Maki Shinichi's stamina had finally bottomed out. Every drive he attempted was mercilessly shut down by Sakuragi.
Kiyota Nobunaga tried challenging Sakuragi with speed.
The result?
Sakuragi swatted him so hard the ball flew out of bounds, and Kiyota crashed to the floor together with it, completely disoriented.
Jin Soichiro's three-pointers couldn't even find a shooting window under Sakuragi's absurd defensive coverage.
"How are we supposed to play against this?"
On Kainan's bench, Takato Riki stood frozen.
The tactics he took pride in.
The system he had painstakingly built.
Before absolute talent, it all proved as fragile as soaking wet toilet paper.
Makino Juro being overpowered—fine, he could accept that.
But this redhead…
Just earlier in the first half, he'd been nothing more than a rough amateur who only knew how to grab rebounds.
How had he suddenly transformed into a complete two-way superstar?!
…
"So this is…"
"What being a genius feels like?"
On the court.
Sakuragi Hanamichi stood at the free-throw line.
Moments ago, he had grabbed an offensive rebound, forced the basket through two Kainan defenders, and even drew the foul.
He held the ball, feeling the texture of the leather beneath his fingertips.
Back then, the hoop had always seemed tiny.
No matter what, he couldn't shoot it in.
But now...
that basket looked as large as a washbasin.
"Hooo…"
Sakuragi took a deep breath.
This time, he didn't use that ridiculous "granny-style" shooting form.
Instead...
he naturally raised the ball, lifted his arm, and snapped his wrist.
The motion was textbook perfect.
"Swish."
The basketball dropped cleanly through the net without even disturbing the mesh much.
The arena fell silent.
Then erupted into a tsunami of shock.
"What the hell?! Sakuragi Hanamichi can shoot now?!"
"That form is so standard! Did this guy get replaced or something?!"
"Is this still that dunk-only amateur?!"
Listening to the gasps around him—
Sakuragi curled his lips disdainfully.
"What's the big deal?"
He turned and jogged back on defense. Passing by the utterly stunned Kiyota Nobunaga, he snorted lightly, his humblebragging aura overflowing:
"Isn't shooting something you can do as long as you've got hands?"
Kiyota Nobunaga: "…"
He wanted to argue.
Wanted to curse him out.
But looking at the blinding score on the scoreboard...
and the arrogant calm hidden within Sakuragi's eyes—
before this red-haired monster,
all words felt pale and powerless.
…
"BEEEEEP!!!"
The referee's whistle rang out sharply.
The game was over.
Shohoku defeated Kainan 88–52.
A crushing lead of twenty-six points.
Sakuragi Hanamichi exploded for:
38 points,
9 rebounds,
5 blocks,
3 steals.
The numbers were terrifying—like someone had activated cheat codes in a game.
More terrifying still—
he had completely shattered Kainan's fighting spirit.
The once-invincible kings of Kanagawa now hung their heads low like defeated roosters.
Maki Shinichi was helped off the court by his teammates.
His knees trembled.
His eyes were hollow.
He had lost.
Lost thoroughly.
Not only to the unbeatable "Tyrant," Makino Juro—
but in the end, he had also been utterly trampled beneath the feet of the red-haired rookie he had never once taken seriously.
On Shohoku's bench.
Sakuragi Hanamichi stood proudly with his chin raised high, like a victorious general returning from war.
The crimson lightning at the corners of his eyes gradually faded, and the suffocating pressure surrounding him slowly dispersed.
"WAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
That familiar, demonic laugh echoed through the entire gymnasium once more.
Hands on his hips, Sakuragi pointed arrogantly toward the stands where Akagi Haruko sat.
"Haruko-san!! Did you see that?!"
"This is the power of this genius!!"
In the audience, Akagi Haruko's face was flushed bright red with excitement as she waved both hands desperately.
"Sakuragi-kun!! You were amazing!!!"
The instant he received praise from his goddess, Sakuragi's cool expert image shattered completely.
His body twisted like fried dough, and a lovestruck grin spread across his face.
"Hehehe… Haruko-san said I'm cool…"
Just then....
a hand landed on his shoulder.
Sakuragi turned around and met Makino Juro's sleepy eyes, still carrying traces of someone who had just woken up from a nap.
"M-Master?"
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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