Morning at Shohoku High School.
The air carried the mixed scent of chalk dust and the dry warmth unique to early summer.
Class 2-1.
At the front of the room, the math teacher was furiously covering the blackboard with formulas.
But in the eyes of certain students in the back row, it might as well have been the world's most powerful sleeping spell.
Seated in the coveted window-side throne, Ryota Miyagi was locked in a life-or-death struggle.
His head bobbed up and down like a pecking chicken.
His left elbow slowly slid across the desk.
His entire body swayed precariously, like a crumbling building on the verge of collapse.
"Did you hear?"
"The basketball team had a game yesterday!"
"Against Kainan, too!"
The whispers of the girls in the back row pierced straight through the math teacher's hypnotic lecture and slipped into Miyagi's ears.
The half-asleep Miyagi's left ear twitched.
Radar activated.
"Seriously?"
"That's Kainan! The kings who won seventeen straight championships, right?"
Another girl gasped, covering her mouth.
"Ayako, is that true?"
The girl who had been called spun a pen between her fingers.
A bright smile curved her lips as her gaze casually drifted toward the curly-haired head sitting in front of her.
"Of course."
Ayako's voice wasn't loud, but it carried unmistakable pride.
"It wasn't an easy win, but a win is a win."
"Wooow~ Then Miyagi-kun must've been amazing!"
"I saw him dozing off first thing this morning. He must've worked incredibly hard yesterday."
"He's the starting point guard! For the sake of the school's honor, even if he's drooling in class, he'd still look cool!"
At the front.
The Miyagi who had been moments away from face-planting onto his desk suddenly froze.
The next second—
The dying man sat bolt upright.
With a speed that defied physics, he instantly snapped into perfect posture.
Hands neatly folded on his desk.
Back straight as a javelin.
Eyes wide as saucers, fixed firmly on the incomprehensible formulas on the blackboard.
He even nodded thoughtfully from time to time, furrowing his brows as though contemplating some profound mathematical mystery.
"Pfft..."
Ayako couldn't help laughing as she watched his stiff, overly dramatic performance.
This guy really cared about his image.
Meanwhile, Class 1-10.
The atmosphere there was even more cursed.
The teacher adjusted his glasses.
The veins on his forehead pulsed rhythmically like cheerful musical notes.
His knuckles turned white around the textbook as his gaze locked onto the "Two Heavenly Guardians" occupying the back row.
On the left: Kaede Rukawa.
Face-down on his desk.
Dead asleep.
A few stubborn strands of hair stuck up from his head, bouncing slightly with each breath.
On the right: Makino Juro.
This one was even worse.
He was wearing what looked like an extremely expensive silk sleep mask.
Not only was he sleeping, but he was smacking his lips in his sleep.
A shiny trail of drool had practically formed a river at the corner of his mouth.
One on each side.
Together they looked like twin guardian deities protecting the God of Sleep himself, radiating an aura that screamed:
KEEP OUT.
"Ahem! AHEM!!"
The English teacher coughed thunderously.
The students in the front row nearly suffered ruptured eardrums.
The two young masters in the back?
Completely motionless.
Rukawa simply shifted positions and offered the teacher the back of his head.
Makino Juro frowned as if annoyed by the noise, pulled his sleep mask down tighter, and muttered vaguely:
"...Boss... another serving of A5 Wagyu... make it sashimi..."
The entire classroom fell silent.
The teacher took a deep breath.
Crack.
The piece of chalk in his hand snapped cleanly in half.
"Umm... Teacher."
A bespectacled boy in the front row timidly raised his hand, attempting damage control.
"The basketball team played Kainan yesterday..."
"It was an incredibly tough game..."
"Yeah, Teacher!"
Several girls had stars in their eyes.
"Rukawa-kun and Juro-kun were the heroes! It's normal for them to be exhausted!"
The English teacher's eye twitched.
He glanced at the two sleeping figures who looked like they had already passed on to the afterlife.
Normally they just nodded off during class.
Today they'd skipped straight to a coma.
Were they teaming up to torment him?
Or was his lecture really that effective as a sleep aid?
"...Forget it."
The teacher sighed and tossed the broken chalk back into the box.
After all, he had heard yesterday's broadcast.
After a game that intense, most people probably couldn't even get out of bed today.
"Just don't snore."
Class 3-6.
Kiminobu Kogure stared absentmindedly at the empty seat beside him.
That was Takenori Akagi's seat.
Without the mountain of reference books.
Without the gorilla-like captain who was always frowning.
Sunlight spilled across the empty desk, making it look strangely lonely.
"I wonder how Akagi is doing in America..."
Kogure felt uneasy.
Makino Juro had made it sound so casual.
"Just a small family business."
"Made a few arrangements."
But sending a high school student overnight to America's top rehabilitation center?
That wasn't something a "small business" could accomplish.
That was pure money-powered sorcery.
You have to make it back, Akagi.
Kogure tightened his grip on his pen.
The National Tournament won't be the same without you.
Orlando, Florida, USA.
Orlando Regional Medical Center.
There was no pungent disinfectant smell here.
Instead, the air carried a faint scent of lemons.
Inside the spacious rehabilitation room stood countless pieces of high-tech equipment whose purposes were impossible to guess.
Takenori Akagi sat on a massive muscle-strength testing machine.
His right ankle was heavily wrapped and connected to a network of sensors.
"Mr. Akagi, try to extend your ankle slowly."
The blond, blue-eyed physician studied the data on his tablet, surprise flashing across his eyes.
"Good. Very steady."
The doctor nodded approvingly.
"Your bone density and muscle resilience are excellent."
"At this pace, you'll be back on the court very soon."
The tension in Akagi's face finally eased.
He let out a long breath.
"Thank you. I must go back before August."
Akagi clenched his fist, his eyes hard as steel.
"My team needs me."
Just then—
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind him.
Even the floor seemed to tremble slightly.
A deep, powerful voice with a thick American accent exploded above his head like a subwoofer.
"Hey, little man."
The voice carried a teasing tone.
"You look pretty fit, but kinda skinny. You a guard?"
Akagi froze.
Skinny?
Little man?
Back in Kanagawa, he was the terrifying Gorilla Captain.
The undisputed king of the paint.
Even players like Kazuma Takasago and Jun Uozumi would never dare call him small.
A nameless fury surged up instantly.
Akagi spun around and unleashed the terrifying glare that had dominated Kanagawa's interior courts.
"No! I am a center!"
However...
The moment he turned completely around and saw who was standing behind him...
Takenori Akagi's fearsome expression froze solid.
His gaze had to travel upward.
Then even higher.
And higher still.
Until his neck was tilted back at an uncomfortable angle.
Standing before him was a mountain.
A black mountain.
A breathing mountain of muscle.
At a glance, the giant was well over 215 centimeters tall.
One of his arms looked thicker than Akagi's thigh.
On that youthful yet feral face...
Was an unexpectedly innocent expression.
The most ridiculous part?
This giant was holding an ice cream cone.
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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