As Makino Juro spoke, he collapsed into the chair.
It was as if every bone had been pulled out of his body.
I give this performance a perfect score.
Everyone around him was covered in imaginary black lines as they screamed internally:
Tired?
Are you freaking kidding me?
You didn't even break a sweat!
Who the hell was that guy flying all over the court just now, running Toyotama around like a bunch of dogs?!
Did you come to the basketball court for a casual stroll?!
Coach Anzai looked at Makino Juro with a kindly smile.
Behind his glasses, his eyes gleamed with wisdom.
Clearly, he had seen through everything.
"Hehehe..."
"Juro, you've worked hard."
"Since you're tired, then get some rest."
"You won't need to go back onto the court for the rest of the game."
Makino Juro gave him an "OK" sign and draped the towel over his head.
Although Ryota Kise's [Perfect Copy] had been optimized by the System, the strain it placed on his stamina was still enormous.
Besides...
He had already shattered Toyotama's spirit.
Their mentality had completely collapsed.
There was no need to waste any more energy.
You don't use a butcher's cleaver to kill a chicken.
Using an ace weapon for a job this trivial would only insult the weapon.
More importantly...
The corners of Makino Juro's mouth curled slightly beneath the towel.
A secret weapon only needed to show a little of its edge.
He had to know how to hide his true strength.
If he revealed everything now, how was he supposed to deal with Sannoh later?
Think bigger.
Just then...
A teeth-grinding sound came from beside him.
Grnk... grnk...
It sounded like a mouse gnawing on mahogany furniture.
Makino Juro didn't even need to look.
He already knew who it was.
"Damn you, Master..."
Sakuragi Hanamichi was crouched beside him, both hands gripping the back of the chair so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
His eyes burned with the sourness of pure jealousy.
"He stole all the spotlight!"
"That Logo Shot! That dunk! And that move that made the guy fall over! That was freaking awesome!"
"This genius hasn't even gotten onto the court yet!"
"All those cheers from the crowd were for him! I want some too!"
"Aaaaaah! This is driving me crazy! I'm jealous!!"
At this moment, Sakuragi looked like a child whose favorite lollipop had been snatched away.
He was both furious and deeply wronged.
He had trained for this day for so long.
He had even shaved his head to show his determination.
He had practiced shooting day and night.
He had even learned that damn defensive footwork.
And what happened?
The moment the game started, Makino Juro had crushed the opposition and practically cleared the entire level by himself.
Then what the hell did this genius need to do?
Go onto the court and shout "Let's go!" from the sidelines?
Or stay behind and clean the floor after the game?
"Sakuragi."
Coach Anzai's voice came at exactly the right moment, like a heavenly revelation.
Sakuragi Hanamichi whipped around.
His eyes immediately filled with tears as he stared at Coach Anzai, looking like a giant golden retriever waiting to be fed.
"Old Man!!"
"I want to play! I want to dunk!"
"I want to knock that ponytailed bastard flying into the stands!"
Coach Anzai pushed up his glasses, wearing a smile as benevolent as Colonel Sanders.
"Go ahead."
"This is your stage now."
"Let everyone see that Shohoku doesn't have just one ace."
"We have another one."
Sakuragi froze for a second.
Then...
Ecstasy exploded inside him.
His entire body seemed to ignite.
"Hahahahaha!!"
He leaped to his feet and ripped off his warm-up jacket, revealing the bright red No. 10 jersey underneath.
"Finally, it's this genius's turn to play!"
"You Toyotama monkeys! Wash your necks and wait for me!"
"The genius Sakuragi Hanamichi is here! Tremble before me, mere mortals!!"
...
"Tweet!!"
The timeout ended.
Both teams returned to the court.
The spectators were surprised to discover that Shohoku had made a substitution.
The No. 16 who had just gone on a rampage and completely destroyed Toyotama...
Was sitting on the bench?
"Hey, what's going on?"
"Why did No. 16 come off?"
"Is he injured? Or did his battery run out?"
"No way. He was bouncing around like crazy just a moment ago."
At the press table.
An older reporter frowned, continuously spinning the pen in his hand.
"What is Coach Anzai thinking?"
"Wouldn't it be better to strike while the iron is hot and completely crush Toyotama?"
"Why slow the game down on purpose?"
"Why take their core player off the court?"
A younger reporter beside him checked his notes before suddenly exclaiming:
"Senpai! That bald guy... that's Sakuragi Hanamichi!"
"That guy who became famous during the prefectural tournament for committing too many fouls?"
"The disqualification king?"
"I heard he's only been playing basketball for a few months..."
Aida Yayoi's brows furrowed so deeply that they looked capable of crushing a fly.
"They took their ace off and replaced him with this rookie?"
"Are they... using this game to develop their bench?"
"Against an A-level powerhouse like Toyotama, they're actually daring to use the game for practice?"
"Shohoku..."
"Just how arrogant are they?"
"They're trying to nail Toyotama to the wall of shame!"
On the court.
Although Makino Juro had his eyes closed, his mind was racing.
That explosive burst just now had given him an even deeper understanding of the [Ryota Kise] template.
Especially the sensation of switching between skills at will.
It was like holding a universal key in his hand.
As long as he wanted to...
There was no lock he couldn't open.
It was practically cheating.
"However..."
Makino Juro thought to himself.
"This style of play relies too heavily on maintaining momentum. It burns through stamina too quickly."
"Once the rhythm breaks, the backlash on my stamina will be severe."
"I still need Akagi and Rukawa to step up."
"Especially Akagi."
Makino Juro slowly opened his eyes.
Through a gap in the towel, he looked toward the towering figure on the court.
"You spent so long getting bullied by Shaq in America."
"If you can't even handle Toyotama's soft center..."
"Then that trip to America would've been a complete waste."
...
The game continued.
Toyotama had possession.
Although they were down by sixteen points, Toyotama was still a regular among the nation's top eight.
Their foundation was solid.
And their ability to adjust was extremely strong.
Minami Tsuyoshi steadied himself and signaled for his teammates to spread out.
If we can't run the fast break, then we'll play half-court.
Let's grind you down!
The ball was passed inside.
Iwata Mitsuaki caught it.
As Toyotama's center, he stood 190 centimeters tall and had plenty of weight behind him.
He certainly looked intimidating.
He had just been blocked by Akagi, and the frustration had been building inside him.
He's nothing more than the center of a C-level team.
That block earlier was just because I got careless.
Iwata went into the post and backed Akagi down.
He drove his body forward.
Thump!
A dull impact rang out.
Iwata's expression changed instantly.
It was like he'd just slammed into a load-bearing wall.
Not even a twitch.
Behind him, Akagi Takenori stood like a reinforced-concrete bunker.
The collision hadn't moved Akagi at all.
Instead, the shock had sent pain shooting through Iwata's shoulder, making him feel as if his bones were about to fall apart.
"How is this possible?!"
Iwata refused to believe it.
He gritted his teeth and pushed again, his face turning red.
"Move!!"
Thump!
Still nothing.
In fact...
Akagi took one step forward.
The terrifying pressure of that sheer strength made Iwata feel as if he were trying to push a fully loaded eighteen-wheeler.
With the parking brake on.
"Too light."
Akagi's voice came from above him.
Cold.
Commanding.
Carrying the murderous aura of someone who had returned from hell.
And perhaps...
Just a hint of disdain.
"Is this the center of an A-level powerhouse?"
"Compared to that guy..."
"This is child's play."
A figure emerged in Akagi's mind.
A black giant who had looked like a prehistoric beast inside the training gym in Orlando.
Shaquille O'Neal.
The monster who could send Akagi flying two meters with nothing more than a casual bump.
The man who had left him feeling hopeless night after night.
Compared to him...
Iwata Mitsuaki standing before him now...
Was like a child who hadn't even been weaned.
Pathetic.
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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