The fire in Rukawa Kaede's eyes ignited instantly.
That was the hunger of a hunter spotting top-tier prey.
"I'll crush him."
After assigning those four matchups, Coach Anzai paused and took a sip of tea.
Sakuragi Hanamichi had long since lost his patience. He bounced around like a gorilla with its tail on fire, restless and loud—
Even leaning his big face right up to Coach Anzai, nostrils flaring.
"Old man! What about me?!"
"What about me? Where does this genius fit in?!"
"Or are you sending me to guard that broomhead Sendoh?"
"That monkey boss works too!"
"Only a genius like me can handle a mission this critical, right?!"
Coach Anzai chuckled, a glint flashing across his glasses.
At that moment, Akagi Takenori reached out and pressed Sakuragi's head down like palming a basketball.
He forcibly turned his gaze toward Ryonan's bench.
"Idiot. Look over there."
Sakuragi followed his finger.
On Ryonan's bench sat a rather… unusual figure.
Long, messy hair. Narrow, drooping eyes. Thick lips. A gloomy expression like someone who'd just been cheated out of five million yen.
He sat hunched forward, staring at the floor, radiating an oppressive aura that practically came with its own "Do Not Approach" background music.
Akagi spoke in a low voice:
"That's Ryonan's starting power forward—Fukuda Kicchou."
"Fukuda?" Sakuragi blinked, clueless.
"That's right."
"He didn't play in the practice match."
"I heard his offense is overwhelming, but his defense is terrible—and with his personality, he got suspended."
"But now… he's the hidden blade Ryonan's been keeping up its sleeve."
"Sakuragi, your job is—shut him down completely."
Akagi released his grip, his expression deadly serious.
Sakuragi looked disgusted.
"Hah? That gloomy guy?"
"One finger from this genius and he's—"
At that moment, Fukuda seemed to sense something and slowly raised his head.
His gaze cut through the crowd and locked directly onto Sakuragi Hanamichi.
It was a look filled with extreme hunger—desperate to prove himself.
Like a wolf that hadn't eaten for three days suddenly spotting a slab of glistening pork belly.
Fukuda rolled his stiff neck. Crack. Crack.
Sakuragi froze for a split second.
Then, the corner of his mouth curled upward into his signature, provocative grin.
"Heh… so your name's 'Fuku,' huh?"
He clenched his fists, flames of battle roaring in his eyes—pure instinct of a beast.
"You might look like some nobody…"
"But since the old man assigned you to me, I'll reluctantly beat you back to your original form!"
"I'll show you what genius-level defense looks like!"
"BEEEEEP!"
The referee's long whistle sliced through the air.
"The game begins! Starters, take the court!"
Makino Juro let out a sigh, stood up from the bench, and casually smacked Sakuragi's backside—solid feel.
"Let's go, red-haired monkey."
"Don't drag us down. Or I'll sell those new sneakers of yours online for soda money."
"DAMN IT, Juro! WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"
"Those are my treasures! Touch them and I'll kill you!"
The five tigers of Shohoku walked side by side toward center court.
The decisive battle—about to erupt.
...
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for waiting!"
The announcer's voice crackled through the speakers, slightly distorted by static—
But bursting with enough energy to blow the roof off the arena.
"What we're about to witness is today's grand finale of the prefectural tournament!"
"On one side—the biggest dark horse of this tournament, charging all the way here—Shohoku High School!"
"And on the other—the powerhouse that reached last year's Final Four, led by the 'Genius Sendoh'—Ryonan High School!"
Up in the stands, Mito Yohei raised an eyebrow and elbowed Takamiya Nozomi, who was stuffing popcorn into his mouth.
"Hey, Takamiya… since when did the prefectural tournament get this fancy? Introductions and everything?"
"Mmm… dunno," Takamiya mumbled, cheeks puffed like a hamster.
"Probably because Shohoku's lineup this year is just too insane."
"You've got Hanamichi, that single-celled organism… and then guys like Makino Juro."
Yohei nodded thoughtfully, watching the court below.
"Feels like an NBA All-Star game… but yeah, the atmosphere's definitely heating up."
At that moment, the spotlight snapped on at center court.
"First to enter—wearing red—Shohoku High School!"
"Number 4! Center! Akagi Takenori!"
As the announcement thundered, Akagi stepped forward.
Standing there, he didn't look like a high schooler—more like a moving iron tower. Each step he took seemed to echo with a heavy thud.
"OOOH! The gorilla's here!"
"Akagi! The man who rules the paint!"
In the front row, a sharp-looking woman with short hair adjusted her glasses, pen spinning rapidly in her hand.
She was Aida Yayoi, a well-known reporter—and Aida Hikoichi's older sister.
"Akagi Takenori…"
She circled his name heavily in her notebook.
"This beast is finally breaking out of its cage."
"Next! Number 7! Guard! Miyagi Ryota!"
Miyagi rolled up his wristbands, a familiar mischievous grin tugging at his lips.
As he stepped out, he naturally extended his hand to the side.
"Ryota!"
Ayako waved her folded fan, her eyes unusually gentle.
"Go! Take us to the national tournament!"
Miyagi froze for a split second.
Then his eyes lit up like they'd just been supercharged.
Smack!
Their high-five rang crisp and clear—more satisfying to him than any basket.
"Leave it to me, Ayako!"
He turned, raising one hand high, basking in the cheers.
This was his moment.
Lightning speed—activated.
"Number 10! Power Forward! Sakuragi Hanamichi!"
The moment his name was announced, the volume spiked—mixed with shock and disbelief.
"Hey, that redhead is Sakuragi?"
"They say he's a monster rookie!"
"He looks terrifying… are we sure he's not a delinquent?"
Sakuragi had been about to strike a cool pose—but hearing the comments, veins popped on his forehead.
Then.
From a corner of the stands came a voice like heaven.
"Sakuragi-kun!"
"Do your best!"
Akagi Haruko waved both hands, face flushed like a ripe apple.
In an instant, Sakuragi's entire art style changed—into a chibi version of himself.
"Ohohoho! Haruko-san is watching me!"
"I feel like my chakra is overflowing!"
He swayed like overcooked noodles, face glowing red.
"Number 11! Small Forward! Rukawa Kaede!"
"KYAAAAAAAH!!!"
If the previous cheers were loud, this was pure chaos.
Rukawa's fan club erupted like a zombie apocalypse—screams piercing the air, perfectly synchronized "Rukawa-sama!" banners unfurling like a live idol concert.
Rukawa stepped onto the court, expression cold.
He ignored the deafening screams completely.
His gaze cut straight across the court—
Locking onto that lazy figure in Ryonan's camp.
On the bench, Kogure adjusted his glasses.
"Rukawa's killing intent is intense today."
"Yeah…" Kakuta shivered slightly.
"In his eyes… Sendoh is the only prey."
END OF CHAPTER
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