The Shohoku players bowed with unusual force, their voices booming loudly enough to shake dust from the ceiling.
The voices from the Kainan side, meanwhile, were hoarse and dry, as if they had swallowed sand.
Then came the handshake line.
Maki Shinichi looked at Makino Juro, who wore a lazy expression, as though he had just finished a casual stroll through town.
The hand he extended tightened slightly, veins bulging on the back of it.
"Makino Juro."
His voice was low, carrying the grit of someone biting down on shattered pride.
"At the National Tournament, I'll collect this debt—with interest."
Makino Juro yawned and casually shook his hand.
The indifferent attitude nearly sent Maki's blood pressure through the roof.
"Yeah... you're welcome to try anytime."
Pulling his hand back, Makino Juro glanced at Maki's slightly weathered face and suddenly smiled.
"But next time, remember to bring a thermos."
"Throw in some goji berries."
"You're middle-aged, after all. It's normal if your stamina can't keep up."
Maki Shinichi: "..."
Critical hit.
On the coaching bench, Takato Riki didn't explode in anger.
He simply sat there quietly, looking as though he had aged ten years in an instant.
"You all played well."
"I underestimated Shohoku."
"I underestimated Makino Juro..."
"It was my arrogance that buried Kainan's winning streak."
With Shohoku cutting down Kainan, the situation in the Inter-High qualifying finals became crystal clear.
Two games. Two wins.
Shohoku stood alone at the top of the standings like an unquestioned king.
The upcoming match against Takezono was practically free points.
Victory was all but guaranteed.
The real do-or-die battle would be between Ryonan and Kainan.
Winner takes everything.
Loser goes home to fish.
But that was a story for another day.
For Shohoku tonight, there was only one thing that mattered.
Celebrating.
As they walked out of the gymnasium, the setting sun stretched their shadows across the pavement.
The salty sea breeze dried the sweat on their bodies, but it couldn't cool the fire burning in their hearts.
"Hey, everyone."
Walking at the back with his hands in his pockets, Makino Juro spoke lazily.
"I'm hungry."
"Want to grab ramen?"
"I know a pretty good place."
The moment he heard the word food, Sakuragi Hanamichi's ears practically stood upright.
His stomach responded with a thunderous growl.
"Ramen?!"
"I want chashu ramen!!"
"But this genius doesn't have any money..."
His eyes lit up green before he immediately covered his pockets defensively.
"Since we're celebrating, obviously nobody's paying for themselves."
Makino Juro was just about to say Put it on my card—
When Akagi suddenly stopped and turned around.
The sunset bathed his rugged face in a surprisingly gentle glow.
Thumping his chest twice with a heavy bang bang, he declared:
"Ramen sounds good!"
"This time, Makino Juro isn't paying!"
As captain, Akagi grandly waved his hand.
"I'm treating everyone today!"
For one second, silence reigned.
Then...
The entire group erupted.
"WOOOOOO!! THE GORILLA'S TREATING!!"
"THE IRON ROOSTER FINALLY LOST A FEATHER!"
"LONG LIVE THE CAPTAIN!!"
Sakuragi launched himself onto Akagi's back in excitement.
"YES!!"
"If the Gorilla's paying, I'm eating ten bowls!"
"Extra eggs! Extra meat!!"
The smile on Akagi's face instantly froze.
A bead of cold sweat rolled down his forehead.
"You idiot!!"
"Eat less!!"
"My wallet is going to die!!"
"WAHAHAHAHA!"
"I don't care!"
"I'm making up for every piece of chashu I've missed in my entire life!"
Beneath the sunset, the silhouettes of the laughing teenagers seemed wrapped in golden light.
This was their youth.
Passionate.
Unrestrained.
And filled with the rich aroma of tonkotsu ramen.
The next day.
Shohoku Basketball Gymnasium.
No holiday.
No relaxation.
If anything, the atmosphere was even more intense than on game day.
The squeak of sneakers and the collision of bodies blended into a symphony called hard work.
On the court, the eternal rivals.
Rukawa Kaede and Sakuragi Hanamichi—
had been placed on the same team.
Though they still traded insults like "stupid fox" and "idiot" every chance they got...
Their chemistry on the court was strangely effective.
The senior substitutes were getting dismantled so badly they were beginning to question life itself.
At courtside.
Makino Juro wasn't participating in the scrimmage.
Wearing a sweat-soaked tank top, he was grinding through the most boring kind of training imaginable.
"98... 99... 100..."
He panted heavily.
Sweat dripped from his chin onto the floor.
Even with the System.
Even with his absurd template.
His body's base stamina remained a weakness.
If he couldn't finish games quickly, he'd be the first to collapse in a prolonged battle.
To survive the brutal schedule of the National Tournament.
And to reach the very end.
His endurance needed to be maxed out.
No more being a three-second wonder.
In basketball, as in life, longevity was king.
"Here."
A bottle of mineral water appeared before him.
Makino Juro looked up and met Akagi Haruko's sweet smile.
"Good work, Juro-kun."
Taking the bottle, he tilted his head back and drained half of it in one go.
The cool water slid down his throat, washing away the heat.
"Thanks."
Haruko sat beside him with her knees hugged to her chest.
She watched the players on the court quietly for a moment.
Then she turned toward him.
Her eyes sparkled.
"Um... Juro-kun."
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"Really."
Her voice trembled slightly, her eyes reddening.
Makino Juro blinked.
"For yesterday's game?"
"That was routine. No need to make a fuss."
"No."
She shook her head and lowered her voice, as if protecting a precious secret.
"It's about my brother."
She pointed toward the empty captain's seat.
Today, Akagi Takenori was absent.
"The doctor said that if my brother's ankle wasn't completely healed, there could be permanent complications."
"Last night, you arranged for someone to take him to America for closed rehabilitation treatment."
"They said..."
"It's the best sports rehabilitation center in the world."
"They guaranteed he could fully recover and play in the National Tournament."
Haruko bit her lip.
"The cost is astronomical."
"And that team of specialists isn't something money alone can hire."
Looking straight at him, she spoke firmly.
"Thank you, Juro."
Makino Juro screwed the cap back onto the bottle and casually tossed it away.
Clang.
The empty bottle flew across the gym and landed perfectly in a distant trash can.
Rising to his feet, he brushed off his pants and stretched lazily.
His tone was as casual as if he were discussing today's weather.
"Oh, that."
"I saw the captain's ankle swollen up like a pig's trotter."
"It was hurting the team's image."
"My family happens to have a little business over in America."
"So I made a few arrangements."
Looking down at Haruko, he flashed a mischievous grin.
"Besides."
"If that Gorilla isn't anchoring the paint as our meat shield..."
"I'll have to do all the dirty work myself."
"And I hate trouble."
"If money can solve it, is it really a problem?"
He turned around and waved without looking back before starting another set of frog jumps.
"And besides..."
"If he's not there, who's going to lift the championship trophy at Nationals?"
"That thing's heavy."
"I'm too lazy to carry it."
Haruko stared at the figure leaping beneath the sunlight.
He always talked about avoiding trouble.
About wanting to take shortcuts.
Yet behind the scenes, he had quietly paved the road toward everyone's dreams.
"Juro-kun..."
Wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes, Haruko revealed a radiant smile.
"You're really..."
"...a very gentle person."
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
👉 patreon.com/MrBehringer