Aida Yayoi looked at her younger brother acting all noisy and hyper—
She couldn't help herself. She stepped forward, hooked her arm around his neck, and vigorously ruffled his hair.
"Cut the nonsense! We're only a little late!"
"Ow ow ow! Sis, take it easy!"
"My hair! My hair's a mess!" Hikoichi wailed.
"You should work harder too," Aida Yayoi said, glancing toward the court, her tone carrying a hint of frustration born from high expectations.
"Try being as cool as Sendoh already. Stop acting like a battlefield commentator who only knows how to take notes."
Hikoichi rubbed his neck and laughed sheepishly.
"Y-Yes, yes… I'll do my best!"
"But Sis, you should head to the press seats."
Hearing that, Aida Yayoi immediately let him go and turned to the scoreboard.
43:8.
Sendoh had just stolen the ball again and assisted Fukuda for a brutal rim-shattering dunk.
Takezato High—last year's semifinalist—
now looked like a flock of lambs waiting to be slaughtered, the light already gone from their eyes.
They were probably already thinking about where to eat after the game.
"…I didn't expect this,"
Aida Yayoi sighed inwardly.
"In just one year… Ryonan has evolved to this level…"
Uozumi's dominance.
Fukuda's offensive firepower.
And… the awakened Sendoh.
This team absolutely had what it takes to reach the national tournament.
…
At the same time.
Kanagawa Prefectural Gymnasium.
Unlike the "solo show" happening at Ryonan,
the atmosphere here was so heavy it felt like you could wring water out of it.
On the massive electronic scoreboard, the glaring red numbers loomed like mountains, pressing down on every Shohoku supporter.
Shohoku 9 : 15 Kainan.
Only five minutes into the game.
The excitement from Rukawa Kaede's earth-shaking "Wild Instinct · Red Fox" layup earlier—
had already been washed away by cold, brutal reality.
On the court.
"Defense! Lock them down!!"
Akagi Takenori's roar thundered across the arena.
But anyone could hear it—
the "Gorilla" was getting anxious.
Kainan's counterattacks were too fast, too fierce, too ruthless.
Maki Shinichi advanced with the ball.
Miyagi Ryota gritted his teeth, lowering his center of gravity to the limit, eyes bloodshot as he stared at the monster in front of him.
In just a few minutes, he had fully understood what it meant to be "Kanagawa's number one."
Strength. Speed. Experience.
A complete, overwhelming domination—
like a humanoid tank clearing the way.
"Miyagi, you've improved."
"But your movements have stiffened."
Maki's voice was calm and indifferent, as if stating a simple fact. His breathing hadn't even changed.
Before Miyagi could react—
Maki suddenly drove.
No fancy feints. No tricks.
Just raw power.
"Bam!"
The collision of muscle and bone made teeth ache.
Miyagi felt like his chest had been struck by a hammer, his body involuntarily forced half a step backward.
And that half-step—
was everything.
The defense collapsed.
Maki instantly penetrated the paint, as if entering an empty zone.
"No way!!!"
Sakuragi Hanamichi burst in from the side like a red beast, baring his fangs and claws, leaping high into the air.
"Watch this, genius! Get down!!"
Facing Sakuragi's overwhelming block attempt—
Maki didn't force the shot.
Instead, midair, he calmly flicked the ball behind his head.
Waiting there....
was a slender figure already in position.
Jin Soichiro.
Catch. Jump. Release.
His form was textbook-perfect—so clean it looked like it came straight out of a manual.
No extra movement. No hesitation.
Almost… elegant.
The basketball traced a high arc through the air.
The entire arena fell silent.
"Swish!"
A perfect shot. The net barely even moved.
Three points.
9 : 18.
The gap widened to nearly double digits.
The red numbers on the scoreboard burned into the eyes—
as if mercilessly mocking the challenger's arrogance.
In Shohoku's stands, the atmosphere sank to rock bottom.
With Jin Soichiro's flawless three-pointer—
"despair" spread through the air like a virus.
"…Yeah, it's over," someone muttered, slumping into their seat, their voice filled with hollow resignation.
"It's already almost double digits."
"This is Kainan. Completely different level."
"That 'Emperor Maki'—even just standing there—his presence alone is suffocating."
"Shohoku's mentality is probably shattered by now, right?"
The murmurs surged like waves.
Mixed with Kainan's synchronized drumbeats—
pounding against everyone's skull.
"Shohoku! Fight!"
"Shohoku! Fight!"
The small group of Shohoku supporters in the corner shouted desperately—
but against Kainan's overwhelming cheers, their voices were as fragile as paper.
On the court.
Miyagi Ryota dribbled the ball.
Sweat dripped from his chin, splashing onto the floor and shattering.
His chest heaved like a bellows, his breathing heavy and ragged.
In front of him...
the man in the purple No. 4 jersey stood like a wall of despair blocking the path to the basket.
Maki Shinichi simply spread his arms.
No exaggerated stance. No flashy defense.
Just watching him coldly.
Like observing an ant trying to shake a tree.
"Tch…"
Miyagi clenched his teeth, fingers digging into the rough surface of the basketball.
This suffocating pressure—
was several levels above what he felt when facing Fujima before.
"Ryota! Here!"
A slightly hoarse but powerful voice tore through the stagnant air.
Miyagi's eyes sharpened.
With a subtle flick of his wrist...
a feint drive turned into a pass.
The ball shot out like an orange bolt of lightning, slicing past Maki's waist.
At the three-point line—
Mitsui Hisashi caught the ball.
Almost instantly, a tall, slender figure stuck to him like a shadow.
Jin Soichiro.
This seemingly gentle and refined shooting guard—
had the same terrifying stickiness on defense as he did on offense.
"No three," Jin said softly—
yet his tone carried absolute certainty.
Long arms raised, completely sealing off every shooting angle.
If this were Mitsui from two years ago,
he might have forced the shot out of frustration.
But now...
Mitsui Hisashi smirked, a streetwise edge curling at his lips.
The kind of composure only forged through hardship.
"Who said I was shooting?"
A fake.
He lifted the ball into a convincing shooting motion
and the moment Jin's center of gravity shifted upward—
he slammed the ball to the floor.
A bounce pass!
The basketball shot forward like a precision-guided missile,
piercing straight through Kainan's tight interior defense—
into the paint.
In the stands.
Hotta Norio, who had been looking fierce, suddenly jumped onto his seat, waving a flag and shouting at the top of his lungs:
"Nice pass, Mitchy!!!"
Under the basket—
a long-sleeping beast finally revealed its fangs.
"Nice one!"
Akagi Takenori held his position with his back to the defender.
His massive frame was like a reinforced load-bearing wall,
firmly pinning Takasago Kazuma behind him.
"Akagi!"
On the bench, Kogure Kiminobu shot to his feet.
Both fists clenched tight, knuckles turning white.
"Go!!! Akagi!!!"
END OF CHAPTER
You can access now the advanced chapters of this game!
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
👉 patreon.com/MrBehringer