The second half began, and the teams switched sides.
Kainan had clearly adjusted their tactics. Jin Soichiro began constantly moving around the perimeter, desperately trying to create space.
But Ryonan's strategy was just as clear.
Clamp down on the inside.
Give them the shot, but don't let them drive.
The situation remained deadlocked, with neither side able to gain a decisive advantage.
Until the fifth minute of the second half.
Ryonan offense.
Sendoh brought the ball up.
Maki Shinichi immediately pressed up against him. This time, he held nothing back.
The physical contact was as brutal as a boxing match. His goal was obvious—drain Sendoh's stamina.
"Man, you're really troublesome, Maki."
Sendoh protected the ball with his back, getting pushed slightly off balance.
But he didn't panic.
His eyes quickly scanned through the chaos of players.
In an instant, he caught a brief opening beneath the basket.
Without hesitation, Sendoh suddenly jumped from the dead corner where Maki had forced him.
In midair, his body twisted unnaturally, avoiding Maki's blocking arm.
His wrist flicked.
The basketball became like a surgeon's scalpel, slicing perfectly into the paint.
"Whoosh!"
Under the basket, Fukuda moved instantly.
Like a shark that had smelled blood.
"Not happening!"
Takasago Kazuma roared and stepped sideways, his huge body blocking Fukuda's path.
A perfect defensive position.
If Fukuda forced his way through, it would be an offensive foul.
"Hmph."
A fierce smile appeared on Fukuda Kicchou's rough-looking face.
He didn't slow down.
The moment he made contact with Takasago, his body suddenly performed an incredibly realistic shooting fake.
Takasago instinctively raised his center of gravity.
And in that instant—
Fukuda pulled the ball back.
Using his toes as the pivot point.
A smooth spin move that completely contradicted his rough appearance.
He slipped right past Takasago!
Ahead of him was nothing but open space.
Fukuda jumped.
With one hand, he gently guided the ball upward.
The basketball drew a soft arc from his fingertips.
"Swish!"
Nothing but net.
"Beautiful!!"
The audience exploded again.
"That number 13! His inside footwork is incredible!"
"He fooled Takasago! Ryonan's offense is terrifying!"
Fukuda landed and clenched his fist.
Then he turned to look at Sendoh.
Sendoh was bent over, hands resting on his knees as he caught his breath.
Seeing the basket go in, he raised his head.
A bright smile appeared on his face.
He gave Fukuda a thumbs-up.
"Great pass, Sendoh."
Fukuda silently said those words in his heart.
This was Ryonan's rhythm now.
Everyone was a fang.
And Sendoh was the brain controlling all those fangs, guiding them to tear apart their opponent's throat.
In the stands.
Makino Juro watched the scene.
The playful look in his eyes gradually disappeared.
Replacing it was a hint of seriousness.
"Interesting…"
"Looks like Ryonan really intends to knock Kainan off their throne."
He sat up and stretched lazily.
His joints cracked.
"But…"
Juro's eyes passed through the cheering crowd and landed on the silent Maki Shinichi.
That man's gaze was getting colder and colder.
Like the suffocating pressure before a storm arrived.
"The real storm hasn't even started yet."
The numbers on the scoreboard changed.
Maki Shinichi turned toward the stands and let out a roar that nearly tore his throat apart.
"ROAR!!"
That single roar sounded like he was spitting out every ounce of frustration that had been trapped inside his chest.
"Fukuda! Fukuda!!"
"He's gone crazy!"
"Twenty points! That number 13 already has twenty points!"
The audience completely erupted.
The sound waves nearly lifted the roof off the gym.
Fukuda closed his eyes.
His chin lifted high.
He heard it.
Those cheers that once belonged only to Sendoh.
Those cheers that once belonged only to Uozumi.
Now they were pouring down on him.
This feeling…
It was like a drought-stricken land suddenly being washed by a storm.
Every cell in his body was screaming.
A pleasure so intense it made his scalp numb.
Amazing.
It felt too damn good.
Not enough.
He wanted more.
Louder.
Make it louder!
I can't hear you!
Kainan's bench.
"Crack."
The folding fan in Takato Riki's hand let out a painful sound.
The fan ribs snapped from the force of his grip.
His brows were tightly knitted.
His eyes were locked onto that ordinary-looking number 13.
His face was darker than the bottom of a pot.
"That bastard…"
Takato gritted his teeth.
Behind his glasses, his eyes were filled with frustration.
"A player whose only skills are cutting and finishing…"
"His defense is full of holes, his mid-range shots are basically luck…"
"How can someone full of weaknesses score this many points against Kainan?"
That was the most irritating part.
Fukuda Kicchou was like a double-edged blade without a handle.
His weaknesses were as huge as a black hole.
But his strengths were sharp enough to stab Kainan's interior defense full of holes.
As long as Sendoh was on the court.
As long as those damn passes reached him.
Fukuda became a completely emotionless scoring machine.
Meanwhile, on Ryonan's bench.
Taoka Moichi sat calmly with his arms crossed.
His smug smile was impossible to hide.
"Hehehe…"
"Takato, are you feeling your head buzzing right now?"
Looking at Fukuda basking in the cheers, Taoka's thoughts drifted back two years.
That afternoon.
The Ryonan basketball gym.
Back then, Sendoh Akira had just joined the team.
He was already a max-level player from the beginning.
Skills.
Awareness.
Physical ability.
Everything was flawless.
Like a masterpiece crafted by an artist.
And Fukuda Kicchou at that time?
Rough.
Far too rough.
He dribbled the ball into his own feet.
His defense was so bad people treated him like a training dummy.
Among that batch of freshmen, he was the weakest.
So weak that he wasn't even qualified to become the team's towel boy.
But…
"Give me the ball! Again!"
Taoka remembered it clearly.
That clumsy freshman.
When facing a genius like Sendoh, someone who completely crushed him from another dimension…
There was never even a trace of fear in Fukuda's eyes.
Even if Sendoh stole the ball from him a hundred times.
Even if he got blocked a hundred times.
On the one hundred and first attempt—
Fukuda Kicchou would still choose offense.
"An arrogant brat who doesn't know his limits…"
Taoka whispered.
But his eyes became unusually gentle.
"You were terrible back then…"
"But you kept treating Sendoh as your imaginary rival."
"And that reckless 'leader's mentality' was exactly what pushed you to grind yourself on street courts for an entire year."
"Fukuda…"
"Let it all out."
"Show your ambition."
"Show your greed."
"Show all of Kanagawa what you're capable of!"
The game continued.
Kainan's offense stalled.
Jin Soichiro's three-pointer was disrupted by Koshino's mad pressure and bounced off the rim.
"The rebound is mine!"
Uozumi Jun roared.
Like a black iron tower, he sealed his position and grabbed the ball.
"Sendoh!"
That shout needed no explanation.
The moment Uozumi secured the rebound...
Two blue figures exploded forward like cannon shells.
Instantly tearing apart Kainan's defensive formation.
Sendoh Akira.
Fukuda Kicchou.
Ryonan's signature—
Double Ghost Assault.
"Get back! Hurry back!!"
Maki Shinichi's veins bulged as he sprinted and shouted.
But it was too fast.
Sendoh's advance speed was absurd.
His dribbling rhythm was so smooth it was almost despair-inducing.
Near the half-court line, he made an incredibly deceptive eye fake.
Kiyota Nobunaga's balance shifted.
He almost split his legs trying to recover.
Then...
Sendoh's wrist flicked.
A surgical-style bounce pass.
The ball moved as if it had a navigation system installed.
It pierced through Kainan's defense perfectly.
And landed in Fukuda's hands on the right side of the fast break.
Fukuda caught the ball.
Only Jin Soichiro remained in front of him.
Jin was a sharpshooter.
But a physical battle?
That was simply a free meal for Fukuda.
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
👉 patreon.com/MrBehringer