The dossier went into painstaking detail, down to the habitual movements of every player.
Even their trash-talking styles.
"I hope this will be of some help to you."
Hikoichi's voice suddenly turned serious, carrying a rare edge of determination.
"Because I want Shohoku to win."
On the other end of the line, Hikoichi seemed to remember something unpleasant.
That ponytailed bastard, Minori Kishimoto.
The bastard who had publicly humiliated Ryonan and mocked their senior, Sendoh.
And Itakura, who looked down on everyone as though they were beneath him.
Hikoichi's veins bulged on the hand gripping the receiver, his face darkening like the bottom of a cooking pot.
"Those bastards from Osaka… How dare they look down on Ryonan!"
"Captain Akagi! Please teach those bastards a lesson for us!"
"If you lose, I'll haunt you even after I'm dead!"
Akagi could hear the resentment and anger in Hikoichi's voice.
It was the dignity of a defeated team, and the trust of an ally.
"Don't worry."
"We'll win."
Akagi's voice was as firm as iron.
"You'd better win!!"
At that moment, Sakuragi Hanamichi snatched the phone away.
"Hey! Hikoichi!"
"Isn't Ryonan coming to watch the genius Sakuragi's performance in person?"
Sakuragi shouted into the receiver, wearing such a smug expression that his nose practically pointed at the ceiling.
"This is the genius Sakuragi's national tournament debut!"
"Ah! Is that Sakuragi?"
Hikoichi's voice clearly faltered.
"Er… no, we're… we're good."
"We're still doing extra training at Ryonan."
Sakuragi leaned closer and asked, "Is everyone there? What about Sendoh?"
As their longtime rival, Akagi still cared about Sendoh's whereabouts.
After all, he was the only man who had ever given even the genius a serious headache.
"Uh…"
Hikoichi's voice became even more hesitant, as though the signal had suddenly gotten worse.
"Captain Sendoh and Fukuda aren't here…"
"I don't know where they went…"
"Um… forget it. Maybe they went fishing together or something."
"Anyway! Shohoku!! Good luck!!"
"You've gotta crush Toyotamaaaaaaaaa!!"
That final scream sounded like Hikoichi was shouting with his very life.
His voice cracked from the sheer force of it.
It was so loud that even the receiver seemed to vibrate.
"Gaaah!"
Akagi and Sakuragi simultaneously covered their ears, their faces twisting in pain.
"You idiot! You're going to burst our eardrums!"
Akagi immediately hung up and rubbed his ringing ears.
Kogure smiled wryly from the side.
"That guy sure has a lot of energy."
He took the fax sheets and carefully gathered them together.
"Thanks, Hikoichi. This really came at the perfect time."
In the corner of the lobby.
Makino Juro had been leaning against the counter, casually drinking an ice-cold Coke.
When he heard the words "Sendoh and Fukuda aren't here," his hand paused slightly.
His eyebrow lifted.
Sendoh went fishing?
That wasn't exactly surprising. If that guy were seriously training like a normal person, that would be the real miracle.
But…
At this critical moment, with the National Tournament already underway, even Fukuda was nowhere to be found?
Ryonan's two aces had both disappeared at the same time?
A strange feeling flashed through Makino's mind.
Something didn't feel right.
It was almost as if…
This was the calm before the storm.
Like some enormous beast was stirring beneath an otherwise tranquil surface.
"Could those guys be…"
Makino narrowed his eyes, his gaze growing thoughtful.
But a moment later, he shook his head.
He tipped back the can and drained the last mouthful of Coke. The cold liquid slid down his throat, washing away the oppressive heat.
"Whatever."
"No matter what those guys are plotting, we've got Toyotama's pack of mad dogs to deal with first."
Makino crushed the aluminum can in one hand and flicked it away with a casual snap of his wrist.
Clang.
A perfect shot straight into the trash can.
"Let's go. Time to get to work."
"Ho-ho-ho-ho~"
A familiar laugh drifted over.
Coach Anzai came strolling over, his round belly leading the way.
With his gold-rimmed glasses and kindly smile, he looked every bit like a cheerful Buddha statue.
"Everyone certainly seems energetic today."
"Let's go!"
"Let's go and welcome our first victory."
Coach Anzai didn't say much, but his words were like a calming pill for the entire team.
The tension in everyone's hearts instantly settled.
"Yeahhh!!"
The Shohoku players roared in unison.
The sheer volume made the crystal chandelier in the lobby sway, startling the receptionist behind the desk.
One after another, they filed out and boarded the bus heading toward the venue.
The hotel owner and his wife stood outside, waving vigorously.
"Good luck, Shohoku!"
The bus slowly pulled away.
Its tires rolled across the scorching asphalt as it headed toward the Hiroshima Prefectural Gymnasium.
Inside the bus.
Takenori Akagi sat in the front row, gripping Hikoichi's dossier so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
"Toyotama…"
Akagi murmured under his breath, his fighting spirit burning in his eyes like flames.
"Get ready."
"I'm coming for you."
In the back row, Makino put on his headphones and closed his eyes.
His fingers tapped lightly against his knee.
A steady rhythm.
The rhythm of a war drum.
The hunt had begun.
…
Hiroshima Prefectural Gymnasium.
This wasn't a basketball arena.
It was a sauna.
The stands had been brutally divided into two distinct blocks of color.
Toyotama High School, an A-ranked powerhouse, was already making its presence known.
Three entire sections of the stands were packed with Toyotama students.
The rhythmic pounding of their inflatable cheering sticks echoed throughout the arena.
"Toyotama! Attack!"
"Toyotama! Invincible!"
"Send those country bumpkins from Kanagawa back home to plant rice!!"
The roar crashed through the gym like a tsunami hitting the shore.
Any inexperienced team facing that kind of pressure could easily have their legs turn to jelly before the game even started.
And then there was Shohoku's side.
Pitiful.
It was hardly an exaggeration to call it shabby.
A few dozen scattered seats occupied a lonely corner. Aside from a handful of spectators who had no idea what was going on, the rest were glaringly empty.
Surrounded by Toyotama's ocean of supporters, that tiny patch of Shohoku red looked weak, helpless, and utterly alone.
Then, suddenly, several figures with a completely different aesthetic forced their way through the crowd.
Open white shirts.
Gaudy gold chains hanging across their chests.
And those unmistakable retro pompadours.
Mitsui Hisashi's hardcore personal fan club, led by Tetsuo, had arrived.
They were drenched in sweat, carefully protecting the long rolled-up banner in their arms as though they were carrying some sacred imperial decree.
"Coming through! Don't you people have eyes?!"
"What's with all the pushing? Don't you know who got here first?!"
Tetsuo shoved two Toyotama students out of the way and planted himself right in the center of the stands.
Dead center. Prime seating.
The surrounding atmosphere froze for a second.
Hundreds of hostile gazes swept toward them like searchlights.
This was Toyotama territory.
Their home turf.
"B-Boss…"
One of his lackeys swallowed nervously and tugged at Tetsuo's sleeve.
"Are we… are we sure we're in the right place?"
Everywhere they looked, there were Toyotama jerseys.
Everywhere they looked, there were eyes staring at them like they were prey.
It was like a few friendly huskies had somehow wandered into the middle of a wolf pack's dinner.
"What's there to panic about?!"
Tetsuo slapped his thigh.
His own calves were trembling, but there was no way he was going to let that show.
He stuck out his chest and glared back at the Toyotama supporters with an even more vicious look.
"Once the game starts, we'll see who's afraid of whom!"
"Don't forget why we're here!"
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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