After leaving Coach Anzai's home...
Rukawa Kaede's footsteps felt as heavy as lead.
His mind was a complete mess.
"Become the number one high school player in Japan first."
Those words echoed endlessly in his ears like a curse.
Rukawa stopped walking and looked up at the sky.
His chest felt unbearably tight.
Does he think I'm not strong enough?
Or does he think I'm still too immature?
The desire to become stronger...
To climb to the very top...
To see the view from the summit...
Crashing wildly inside his heart, leaving it aching with every beat.
Screech—
A silver-gray sedan pulled up beside him.
The window rolled down, revealing Mrs. Anzai's gentle smile.
"Rukawa-kun, it's still quite a walk to the station. Get in."
Rukawa paused for a moment before instinctively shaking his head.
"No... I'll walk."
"Get in."
Though her voice was soft, it carried unquestionable authority.
"I have something I'd like to talk to you about."
...
The car was quiet.
Only the faint hum of the air conditioner filled the cabin.
Rukawa sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out the window as the scenery drifted by.
Like a hedgehog curled into itself.
"Are you blaming him?"
Mrs. Anzai suddenly asked without any preamble.
Rukawa pursed his lips and turned his head away.
"No."
She chuckled softly.
"You really are a stubborn child."
"Your mouth says one thing..."
"But your face tells the whole story."
Her fingers lightly tapped the steering wheel.
"The truth is..."
"He wasn't always like this."
"When he was teaching at university, he was famous for his Spartan-style training."
"People even called him the White-Haired Devil."
"Back then, he was strict with everyone."
"But there was one student in particular..."
"A boy named Yazawa."
Mrs. Anzai gazed through the windshield, as though looking into a distant past.
"Yazawa's talent was very similar to yours."
"My husband wanted to mold him into an absolute ace."
"So he trained him the hardest."
"And criticized him the harshest."
The traffic light turned red.
The car came to a gentle stop.
Mrs. Anzai turned toward him, her expression complicated.
"But one day..."
"Yazawa couldn't take it anymore."
"He believed my husband was destroying his talent."
"So without telling anyone..."
"He ran away to America."
Rukawa's heart skipped a beat.
America.
That was his dream.
"..."
His throat tightened.
"And then..."
Mrs. Anzai's fingers slowly whitened as they gripped the steering wheel.
"He couldn't adapt."
"No one there taught him the fundamentals."
"No one adjusted to his style."
"The talent he had always been so proud of..."
"...was nothing special in a place filled with monsters."
"A few years later..."
"We found his name in a tiny corner of the newspaper."
The temperature inside the car seemed to plummet.
"He died in a traffic accident."
"The autopsy showed traces of drugs in his system."
Those words—
Drugs.
They struck Rukawa's heart like a hammer.
Even someone as oblivious to everyday life as he was understood what they meant.
Once you stepped onto that path...
It was almost impossible to escape.
"Yazawa left behind a letter."
Mrs. Anzai's voice trembled.
"He said he regretted everything."
"He wrote that basketball in America had become empty to him."
"And..."
"He missed Coach Anzai."
A tear quietly slipped from the corner of her eye.
"From that day onward..."
"The White-Haired Devil died."
"He resigned from the university."
"And came to Shohoku."
"He became the person you know today."
The car slowly pulled up beside the station.
Mrs. Anzai looked at Rukawa with gentle yet sorrowful eyes.
"Rukawa-kun..."
"He's not trying to stop you."
"He's afraid you'll enter that cruel world before you're ready..."
"And be swallowed whole."
"He doesn't want to see..."
"...another Yazawa."
Rukawa's hand froze halfway to the door handle.
The wind rushed into the car.
It tousled his bangs.
And cleared his mind.
"...Thank you."
He lowered his head.
His voice was quiet.
Yet every word carried unmistakable conviction.
"I think..."
"I understand now."
...
The next day.
Shohoku Basketball Gym.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The rhythmic pounding of basketballs mixed with the screech of sneakers against the hardwood.
The air was thick with sweat and youthful energy.
Standing at the edge of the court...
Rukawa fixed his gaze on the chubby old man leisurely sipping tea from his chair.
Coach Anzai smiled warmly as he watched Sakuragi Hanamichi practice basic fundamentals.
Looking every bit like a friendly mascot.
Rukawa took a deep breath.
Then strode straight toward him.
Gone was his usual aloofness.
His narrow eyes burned with determination.
"Coach."
Anzai Mitsuyoshi looked up.
A flash of light reflected off his glasses.
"Oh, Rukawa-kun."
Rukawa wasted no time.
"Are you..."
"...afraid I'll become the second Yazawa?"
Clink!
The teacup lid slipped from Coach Anzai's hand and struck the rim with a sharp metallic sound.
His eternally gentle smile froze.
Shock.
Pain.
Regret.
Memories.
Countless emotions surged behind those thick lenses.
He had never expected this usually silent boy...
To rip open the deepest scar in his heart so directly.
The atmosphere instantly became suffocating.
Then—
"Yo, Old Man!"
An absurdly large hand suddenly reached over.
Smack! Smack!
It landed squarely on Coach Anzai's multiple chins.
The sensation was unbelievably soft.
Bouncy.
Almost elastic.
The heavy emotional atmosphere shattered into pieces in an instant.
With his freshly shaved bald head gleaming under the lights, Sakuragi Hanamichi leaned over with a huge grin.
"You can't slack off just because you're the coach!"
"Even coaches have to stay sharp!"
"Look at you!"
"You've put on even more weight!"
As he spoke, he casually kneaded Coach Anzai's cheeks like bread dough.
Standing behind him with both hands tucked into his pockets...
Juro let out a lazy yawn.
"That's enough, Hanamichi."
"Don't play with Coach's face too much."
"That's collagen..."
"Not modeling clay."
Makino Juro glanced at the stiff Rukawa.
Then at Coach Anzai's conflicted expression.
A faint, amused smile curved his lips.
It was obvious...
He had heard every word of their conversation.
"Idiot."
Rukawa shot Sakuragi an annoyed glare.
"What did you say, you damn fox?!"
Sakuragi exploded instantly.
Veins bulged across his forehead.
"You wanna fight?!"
"Moron."
Rukawa ignored him completely and looked back at Coach Anzai.
Thanks to Sakuragi's interruption...
The stiffness on Coach Anzai's face had eased considerably.
He adjusted his glasses.
His gaze became gentle once again.
But now...
There was an unwavering resolve in his eyes.
"Rukawa-kun."
Coach Anzai slowly rose to his feet.
Though his figure remained round...
At that moment...
The overwhelming presence of the former national team player radiated from him once again.
"I believe in your willpower."
"And I believe your talent surpasses Yazawa's."
"But..."
"The current you..."
"Is still not enough."
"Before you go to America..."
"Prove it to me."
"Become the number one high school player in Japan first."
Rukawa's eyes lit up instantly.
"Yes."
The light in his eyes resembled a beast that had finally locked onto its prey.
A quiet chuckle sounded nearby.
Leaning casually against the basketball hoop, Makino Juro spun a basketball effortlessly on his fingertip.
His tone was so relaxed that it sounded as if he were discussing tonight's dinner.
"That might be a little difficult..."
"...while I'm still around."
He looked at Rukawa with an easy smile.
There was a trace of teasing in his eyes.
But far more than that...
There was the calm confidence of someone standing at the summit.
The kind of confidence that seemed woven into his very bones.
It felt as though even the temperature around them had dropped a few degrees.
"You want to surpass me..."
"...and become number one?"
"You'll need a lot more practice, Rukawa."
Rukawa turned and stared directly at Juro.
He didn't argue.
He didn't get angry.
The only thing burning within his eyes...
Was even fiercer fighting spirit.
He knew Makino Juro was strong.
Strong enough to be called a monster.
But...
That was exactly why he had decided to stay.
If he couldn't defeat the two people standing before him—
Makino Juro...
And that man named Sendoh...
Then going to America would be nothing more than running away.
Rukawa turned back toward Coach Anzai.
He bent into a deep ninety-degree bow.
"Coach..."
"Please continue to guide me."
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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