Chapter 221: See You at the National Tournament
"Shut up, idiot!"
"Don't give it such a disgusting name!"
Akagi smashed his fist onto Sakuragi's head, sending water splashing everywhere.
In the corner.
Coach Anzai soaked in his own small wooden tub, his face flushed pleasantly from the heat.
He felt the heaviness that had accumulated in his chest over all these years slowly beginning to lift.
Looking at the energetic youngsters before him and listening to their noisy bickering, the old coach's eyes grew increasingly gentle.
This was youth.
This was Shohoku.
Juro leaned against a rock, gazing up at the starry sky.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
Jousei High School?
Perfect.
They would make a good whetstone for these guys.
If it was that Mikoshiba, he should be capable of putting a little pressure on the current Rukawa and Sakuragi.
Though only a little.
...
The third morning.
A luxurious coach bus stopped outside the inn.
The words "Shohoku High School" were printed prominently across its body.
Everyone climbed aboard with their luggage, looking refreshed and energetic.
After a full day of intense training followed by the restorative hot springs, everyone was in peak condition.
Akagi Takenori stood by the bus door, counting heads.
"Is everyone here?"
"All here!"
"Let's go!"
The engine roared to life.
The bus slowly pulled away from the mountains and headed toward Shizuoka Prefectural Jousei High School.
Inside the bus, Sakuragi Hanamichi was pressed against the window, making faces at the monkeys outside.
Rukawa Kaede had his headphones on and was catching up on sleep.
Miyagi and Ayako were supposedly "discussing tactics."
Mitsui was checking his knee pads.
Juro sat in the back row, calmly watching the scenery rush past outside the window.
Jousei High School.
I hope you're ready.
Because the current Shohoku was a pack of demons that had just crawled out of hell.
Especially that bald guy.
He was currently fired up and itching to introduce his "Toilet-Squatting Defense Technique" to the entire world.
...
The red numbers on the scoreboard were as glaring as freshly spilled blood.
108 : 89
This wasn't a game.
It was a one-sided dimensional massacre.
Inside Jousei High School's gymnasium, the air seemed frozen.
There were no cheers.
Only heavy breathing and an overwhelming sense that everyone's mental state had completely collapsed.
Jousei's players lay scattered across the floor.
Their chests rose and fell violently as they stared blankly at the ceiling, looking like fish that had just been slammed onto the beach by a giant wave.
Mikoshiba was among them.
He was Jousei's ace, Shizuoka Prefecture's MVP, and a player with the ability to lead a team to the national top eight.
But at this moment, he felt like a grade-schooler who had only just learned how to dribble.
Those monsters in red had simply ground him into the floor.
"Huff… huff…"
It felt as though Mikoshiba had swallowed burning charcoal.
When he forced himself upright, his arms were trembling.
At the edge of his vision....
That red-haired, bald-headed freak was crouching down and casually tying his shoelaces.
He looked completely relaxed.
Sakuragi Hanamichi.
An hour ago, that name had been a joke.
Now...
It was a nightmare.
"Damn it…"
Mikoshiba clenched his teeth.
His mind was filled with that ridiculous technique.
That bizarre "Toilet-Squatting Defense."
Sakuragi's center of gravity was lower than a sumo wrestler's.
His stance looked ridiculous, like he was squatting over a toilet.
It was almost painful to look at.
But...
Mikoshiba simply couldn't get past him.
No matter how many times he changed direction, that red-haired bald monster stuck to him like a shadow that wouldn't leave.
The pressure was overwhelming.
It was like trying to break through a moving wall.
"Hey, old man."
Sakuragi finished tying his shoelaces and sprang to his feet like a coiled spring.
He looked down at Mikoshiba.
Under the gym lights, his bald head gleamed brightly.
He grinned, revealing a row of dazzling white teeth.
"Is that all?"
"This genius's 'Toilet-Squatting Defense' was only getting warmed up!"
Mikoshiba's mouth twitched violently.
Losing to a technique with a name like that…
It was like throwing his dignity onto the ground and stomping all over it.
"You're not good enough."
A cold voice suddenly cut in.
Rukawa Kaede walked past with a towel draped over his head, his expression completely indifferent.
His eyes were as cold as if he were looking at nothing more than air.
It was almost as though the person who had just scored forty points against Mikoshiba hadn't been him.
Mikoshiba's fists tightened.
That first-year…
He was absurdly strong.
Whether it was his explosive first step or his pull-up jump shot, he existed on an entirely different level.
Was this the standard of Kanagawa?
Was this the team that had knocked Kainan from its throne?
"Mikoshiba."
A large, calloused hand extended toward him.
It was Akagi Takenori.
"Get up."
Akagi's voice was deep and steady, carrying the calm authority of a victor.
Mikoshiba froze.
He looked at Akagi's gorilla-like face.
Then he scanned the rest of the Shohoku players.
They were exhausted, but their eyes burned with an intense fighting spirit.
And especially that guy sitting on the sidelines drinking water.
Makino Juro.
Not even his hairstyle was out of place.
From beginning to end, he had looked as though he were watching a children's game.
"Heh…"
Mikoshiba let out a bitter laugh.
The pride in his eyes shattered completely.
He grabbed Akagi's hand and used it to pull himself up.
"We lost."
Mikoshiba shook his head, a trace of relief hidden in his voice.
"And we lost fair and square."
...
The training camp ended in the blink of an eye.
For Jousei High School, it had been a week straight out of hell.
It had also been a week that completely reshaped their understanding of basketball.
Three practice games.
Three absolute disasters.
The Shohoku players were practically tireless beasts.
Every time they played a game, they seemed to evolve.
Sakuragi Hanamichi was the most frightening example.
On the first day, he could barely do anything beyond sliding sideways on defense like a crab.
By the third day, he had already learned to anticipate passing lanes.
Coach Yufune of Jousei was so horrified that his scalp tingled.
He could only describe Shohoku as a "monster breeding ground."
On the final morning, outside Yun'in Hot Spring Inn—
The bus engine roared.
The entire Shohoku team stood ready to depart.
The Jousei players lined up to see them off.
The tense atmosphere from their first meeting was long gone.
In its place was genuine respect—the kind earned after being thoroughly defeated by a stronger opponent.
"Akagi."
Mikoshiba stepped forward.
His expression was complicated.
There was unwillingness to lose.
There was envy.
But more than anything, there was acceptance.
"At the National Tournament, don't lose."
"If you lose to some mediocre team, where does that leave Jousei's reputation?"
Akagi hoisted his luggage bag over his shoulder.
A confident smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Don't worry."
"We have only one goal."
"To conquer the nation."
Four simple words.
Yet they landed with the weight of an oath, complete with their own imaginary background music.
Mikoshiba took a deep breath and nodded firmly.
"Good."
"See you at the Interhigh."
"We won't be as pathetic as we were this time."
"Anytime."
The two men clasped hands tightly.
It was a promise between men.
"Juro!"
Mikoshiba suddenly called out.
Makino Juro, who had been putting on his sunglasses in preparation for catching up on sleep during the ride, stopped and turned around.
He pushed up the frame of his sunglasses.
"What? Haven't had enough of getting crushed yet?"
Mikoshiba's old face reddened.
He swallowed his pride and shouted:
"Even though I'm really unwilling to admit it…"
"Thank you!"
"These games over the past few days showed us what the true gap in ability looks like!"
"We, Jousei High School, will become stronger!"
"Thank you for teaching us!!"
Behind him, all the Jousei players bowed ninety degrees in unison.
Their voices echoed through the mountain valley.
Makino Juro shrugged, looking completely unconcerned.
"No need to thank me."
The bus slowly pulled away.
Sakuragi Hanamichi was plastered against the rear window like a gecko, waving frantically.
"Hey! You, whoever you are!"
"Next time we meet, this genius is going to shut you out completely!"
"Keep your neck clean and wait for me! Wahahaha!"
As he watched the departing bus disappear into the distance, Mikoshiba clenched his fists.
Then he suddenly smiled.
"Those bastards…"
"They really are impossible to hate."
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
👉 /MrBehringer