Makino Juro suddenly stopped in his tracks.
Those lifeless, half-dead fish eyes snapped wide open.
"Wait a second, Coach."
He spoke abruptly, grabbing Sakuragi—who was just about to charge in like an unleashed husky—and yanking him back.
Coach Anzai blinked. "What is it?"
Juro dragged Sakuragi behind him and casually spun that red head around like he was polishing walnuts.
"Well… I think letting Sakuragi guard Uozumi is kind of a waste."
"Hah?! Juro, you bastard—are you looking down on this genius?!" Sakuragi exploded, baring his teeth like he was ready to bite.
Makino Juro slapped a hand over his face and pushed him aside, then turned to Anzai.
"Sakuragi's got great physical talent, sure—but right now he's basically a walking foul machine."
"Uozumi's experienced. If he draws two fouls on Sakuragi, our paint becomes a free-for-all."
Anzai fell silent for a moment. Behind his glasses, his eyes narrowed into slits.
"And your point is?"
Makino Juro rolled his wrists, his knuckles cracking.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he walked straight toward center court.
Toward the territory that once belonged to Akagi Takenori.
With his back to everyone, he raised a finger—pointed at Uozumi under Ryonan's basket—then pointed at himself.
His voice wasn't loud.
But it was outrageously arrogant.
"Leave the Gorilla Boss to me."
"I'm playing center."
Silence.
A strange, suffocating silence.
For that one second, not only Shohoku's bench—but even the nearby stands—froze in collective shock.
Three seconds later—
The uproar exploded like a collapsing tidal wave.
"What the hell?!"
"Did I hear that right? Makino Juro at center?!"
"You've gotta be kidding me! He's a point guard! At most a small forward!"
"That build might be solid—but in front of Uozumi, he's nothing! He'll get crushed!"
At Kainan's bench.
Maki Shinichi had just taken a sip of water—and nearly spat it out.
He set the bottle down, the calm "middle-aged man" expression on his face cracking for the first time.
"This guy… has he lost his mind?"
"There's nearly a ten-centimeter height gap, and dozens of kilos in weight."
"That kind of mismatch in the paint is suicide," Maki said in a low voice, eyes locked on the court.
Kiyota Nobunaga slapped his thigh and burst out laughing.
"Hahahaha! That sleepy guy's gone crazy!"
"He wants to guard Uozumi? Does he think this is streetball tricks?!"
Jin Soichiro didn't laugh. He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.
"Still… Maki…"
On the other side.
Fujima Kenji of Shoyo looked equally surprised.
"Interesting…"
"Giving up his speed advantage to go head-on in the paint?"
"Is that confidence… or a death wish?" A cold glint flashed in his beautiful eyes.
Courtside.
Coach Taoka Moichi froze for a moment—then burst into wild delight.
"Hahahaha!"
"Coach Anzai, have you gone senile?!"
"Letting an outside player replace Akagi?"
"Who do you think you're looking down on?!"
"Uozumi! Crush him!"
"Let Shohoku understand what true despair in the paint feels like!"
His thoughts roared with excitement.
On the court.
Uozumi Jun looked down at Makino Juro, the muscles on his rugged face twitching.
It felt like an insult.
A humiliation.
His massive frame cast a shadow that completely swallowed Makino Juro.
"Kid…"
"Are you here to be funny? Get back to the perimeter. Send that redhead instead."
"With that soft body of yours, I might accidentally kill you if I hit too hard."
His voice rumbled like thunder.
Facing the spit flying toward his face, Makino Juro waved a hand in mild disgust.
"Big guy, what'd you eat for breakfast? Chive dumplings? That breath's deadly."
He yawned, eyelids drooping, completely unfazed by the mountain of flesh before him.
[Ding! Center Template Activated]
[Loading: Murasakibara Atsushi Template (Generation of Miracles · Strongest Shield)]
[Murasakibara Template Activated]
[Skill Activated: Absolute Defense]
[Stamina Consumption Doubled]
[Murasakibara Panel]
[Dribbling 70, Passing 60, Steal 70, Basketball IQ 90]
[Mid-range 75, Three-point 50, Rebounds 99, Blocks 98]
[Strength 99, Speed 75, Stamina 68, Vertical 85]
BOOM!
The moment the template loaded.
A violent surge of power erupted from his bones like molten lava, flooding every inch of his body.
His muscles felt like they'd been injected with high-concentration stimulants. Every cell roared to life.
His vision changed.
Uozumi—who had seemed like a mountain—
Now looked… fragile.
A lazy, instinctive disdain—belonging to Murasakibara Atsushi himself—rose from deep within.
"Hey, big guy."
Makino Juro slowly lifted his head.
That once-lazy gaze now carried a faint, chilling glint.
He dug his pinky into his ear.
"If you're that eager to get crushed…"
"I'll take it a little seriously."
"And crush you like a potato chip."
The whistle blew.
Play resumed.
Ryonan ball.
Sendoh held the ball. Seeing the mismatch inside, even his usually relaxed eyes flickered with surprise.
But he didn't hesitate.
With a flick of his wrist, the ball arced perfectly into the post.
"Uozumi-senpai! Destroy him!" Koshino shouted from the side.
Uozumi caught the ball.
Feeling the smaller frame behind him, he grinned viciously.
"Kid, you asked for this!"
No fancy moves.
Just a hard dribble—
Back down...
Power!
He was going to bulldoze this arrogant brat out of bounds and finish with a dunk to teach him a lesson.
"BOOM!"
Bodies collided with a dull, bone-rattling thud.
The entire crowd instinctively flinched—already imagining Makino Juro being sent flying.
But..
The next second..
Everyone froze.
It was as if the scene had glitched.
Uozumi's massive body slammed forward—
And hit a wall.
Unmoving.
Makino Juro stood there, feet rooted like they were welded to the floor. He didn't even budge.
Instead, the recoil disrupted Uozumi's rhythm, making his chest tighten.
"Na…ni?!"
Uozumi's eyes nearly popped out of his skull.
"This guy… is he made of steel?!"
He refused to believe it.
With a roar, every muscle in his body bulged as he gathered all his strength into his back for a second, desperate charge.
"GET OUT OF MY WAY!!!"
"BOOM!"
Even the floor seemed to tremble.
And yet—
The result was exactly the same.
Makino Juro didn't move.
He even had time to yawn.
One hand casually pressed against Uozumi's lower back—
That hand didn't look big.
But it was like a hydraulic jack, holding back a thousand-pound force.
"Too light."
Makino Juro's lazy voice slipped into Uozumi's ears.
"That's all you've got? Didn't eat?"
Humiliation.
Utter, face-to-face humiliation.
Uozumi's eyes instantly turned red. His reason snapped.
He abandoned the post-up.
Forcibly turned—
Raised the ball high with both hands.
He was going to use his absolute height advantage and dunk right over Makino Juro!
"Don't get cocky, you midget!"
Uozumi leapt, blotting out the sky.
"Watch out!" Miyagi shouted in panic.
But Makino Juro didn't retreat.
Looking up at Uozumi in the air, he tilted his head slightly—
A cruel, Murasakibara-like smile forming on his lips.
"I told you…"
"You're annoying."
His knees bent—
And then...
A monstrous block erupted!
END OF CHAPTER
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The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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