Yohei smiled.
It was the kind of relieved, fatherly smile one might wear while watching a child finally grow up.
"Yeah. That idiot Hanamichi actually learned how to play defense."
"Although that 'Toilet Defense' stance of his is ugly as hell."
Yohei couldn't resist taking a jab at Sakuragi, but then his tone suddenly changed, and his expression became somewhat strange.
"And then there's Juro."
"I really don't get that guy."
"He barely seems to practice, so how the hell is he this good? Is this what they call being blessed by the heavens?"
In Yohei's mind, Makino Juro had always looked like he had just woken up.
Either he was cracking sunflower seeds, drinking cola, or fooling Sakuragi into doing something ridiculous.
Calling him a genius almost seemed wrong.
He was more like an absurdly lucky professional slacker.
"No."
"Yohei-kun, you've been fooled."
Haruko suddenly interrupted him.
"Huh?"
Yohei froze.
Haruko turned toward the winding streets outside the window, her voice soft but certain.
"My dog has to go outside for a walk at five every morning, so I've been getting up very early lately."
"At that hour, there aren't even any newspaper delivery motorcycles on the streets."
"But I see him every morning."
An image surfaced in Haruko's mind.
The boy who always looked so carefree at school, wearing a soaked gray hoodie, heavy sandbags strapped to his legs as he sprinted up the deserted hill again and again.
No audience.
No applause.
No smug one-liners.
Only his ragged breathing and sweat splattering against the asphalt.
His eyes were focused, cold, and filled with an almost frightening hunger for victory.
Like a lone wolf.
He and the carefree, laughing Makino Juro everyone saw at school seemed like two completely different people.
"After he finishes running, he goes to the park and practices shooting by himself."
"He keeps going until everyone is almost awake, then he buys breakfast and heads to school looking like he just rolled out of bed."
Haruko turned around and stared directly into Yohei's eyes.
"Juro-kun isn't lazy."
"He's the hardest-working one of all."
The soda bottle in Yohei's hand stopped halfway to his mouth.
He was stunned.
The image of Makino Juro as a sunflower-seed-munching slacker shattered in his mind.
In its place appeared the lonely silhouette of a boy running alone before dawn.
"That guy…"
Yohei murmured, the corners of his mouth slowly curling into an amused smile.
"So that's how it is…"
"No wonder."
No wonder that wild idiot Sakuragi, whose animal instincts were frighteningly sharp, always seemed to obey Makino Juro despite constantly refusing to admit it.
He had sensed the scent of his own kind.
The scent of someone willing to risk everything, even his life, just to become stronger.
"That's scary."
Yohei tilted his head back and drained the rest of his soda in one gulp.
"What's scarier than a genius?"
"A hardworking genius."
"And what's scarier than a hardworking genius?"
"A damn workaholic who knows how to disguise himself as a lazy bum!"
He stood up, brushed the dust off his pants, and picked up the basketball again.
This time, his eyes were different.
No more joking around.
He bent his knees.
Raised the ball.
Flicked his wrist.
The basketball traced a trajectory through the air that was far from beautiful, but unbelievably straight.
The entire gym fell silent.
Swish.
The ball grazed the backboard before wobbling awkwardly into the net.
It went in!
"Yes!"
"Haruko, did you see that?! I made it!"
Yohei jumped into the air with his fist raised, looking like a child who had just been given a piece of candy.
"That was amazing, Yohei-kun!"
"That shot was incredible!"
Haruko cheered and applauded along with him.
Their laughter once again filled the empty gymnasium.
Even if there were only three of them.
Even if it had merely been a lucky shot.
The passion of summer had not left with the team.
It remained here, like the heat waves hanging over the summer streets.
It remained in the hearts of everyone who hoped to see Shohoku conquer the nation.
Yohei put the ball back on the rack, walked to the doorway, and narrowed his eyes toward the west.
That was the direction of Hiroshima.
"Give it your best, guys."
"Don't lose to those so-called prestigious schools."
"Especially you, Hanamichi."
"If you come crawling back with tears streaming down your face, I'll turn you into a meme and plaster it all over the school."
Haruko stood beside him, clasping her hands together in prayer as the wind lifted her short hair.
"I'm sure they'll be fine."
"Because Shohoku is the strongest now."
...
Meanwhile.
On the speeding Shinkansen.
"ACHOO!!"
A thunderous sneeze erupted.
A spray of saliva rained down onto the back of Miyagi Ryota's head in the seat ahead.
"Holy crap! Hanamichi! Are you trying to kill me?!"
"Are you a human sprinkler?!"
Miyagi shot upright like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, frantically wiping his hair.
"Hehehe, sorry, sorry."
Sakuragi rubbed his bright-red nose, wearing an expression of absolute confidence.
"Strange. This genius has the body of a bull. How could I possibly catch a cold?"
"Could it be…"
"It must be Haruko thinking about this genius!"
"Ah! This must be the power of love!"
He immediately twisted himself into a pretzel, his face intoxicated with happiness.
"Idiot."
Rukawa Kaede, sitting beside him with an eye mask over his face, coldly spat out two words.
"What did you say, you damn fox?! Wanna fight?!"
Just then, the train arrived at Osaka Station.
The air-conditioning inside the carriage was running full blast, but it couldn't dispel the restless energy hanging in the air.
The Shohoku bunch had been making noise for most of the journey, and by now, most of them were sprawled across their seats in various uncomfortable positions.
Rukawa had his eye mask on, as if he had already logged out of this world.
Miyagi Ryota was holding a magazine titled Hiroshima Guide: Beautiful Girls & Delicious Food.
A string of drool hung precariously from his mouth, seemingly about to baptize the magazine.
Only Akagi Takenori and Kogure Kiminobu were still awake.
The two had their heads together, staring intently at the freshly purchased special edition of Basketball Weekly covering the National Tournament.
On the cover, Sawakita Eiji held a basketball in one hand, the murderous glint in his eyes practically piercing through the paper.
"Japan's Number One High School Player."
The title carried tremendous weight.
"Hey, Akagi…"
"D-Do you think…"
"Could this group assignment have been printed wrong?"
Kogure's fingers trembled as he adjusted his glasses.
His fingertip slowly traced across the tournament bracket, his voice wavering.
Akagi's face had turned black as the bottom of a cooking pot.
The vein between his brows formed a deep crease, sharp enough to crush a fly.
His eyes looked ready to pop out of their sockets as he stared at the lower-left corner of the bracket.
There it was:
[Kanagawa Prefecture Representative · Shohoku High School]
And beside Shohoku was a string of names that made you want to reach for an oxygen tank after seeing them.
"You've got to be kidding me!"
BANG!
Akagi's roar was so loud that Sakuragi Hanamichi, who had been sleeping peacefully in the seat ahead, jolted awake.
His bald head slammed hard against the train window.
"Ow, ow, ow…"
Sakuragi clutched his head, tears springing from the corners of his eyes as his sleep-induced rage exploded.
He spun around and roared:
"Gorilla! What the hell is wrong with you?!"
"This genius was just dreaming about being interviewed on the awards podium!"
"There were beautiful female reporters everywhere!"
Mitsui Hisashi had also been awakened.
He rubbed his bleary eyes, looking thoroughly annoyed.
"Damn, you're loud…"
"Akagi, did you see a ghost?"
In the back row, Makino Juro casually spun an unopened can of cola between his fingers.
A playful smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Of course, he knew what Akagi had seen.
It was despair.
But it was also the staircase leading to godhood.
"See for yourselves."
Akagi took a deep breath and tossed the magazine into Mitsui's lap.
"The media are calling our group…"
"The Group of Death."
"Huh?"
"The Group of Death?"
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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