Chapter 236: Sakuragi, the Fierce Bandit
The moment Sakuragi heard the words "secret weapon," his expression instantly brightened.
He rubbed his bald head and let out a laugh that sounded suspiciously like that of a lovesick fool.
"Hehehe…"
"As expected, this genius is the ace up their sleeve."
"Nothing I can do about it. It's simply the destiny of a savior. Being too popular is a crime in itself."
Sakuragi walked over to the locker-room mirror.
His reflection stared back at him: a bald head, red hair, sharply defined muscles, and a pair of wild, untamed eyes.
For a moment, he became slightly dazed.
Just a few months ago, he had been a complete beginner who only touched a basketball to impress Haruko, a guy who could barely dribble without smacking the ball into his own feet.
And now…
Hiroshima.
The National Tournament.
The highest stage in Japanese high school basketball.
His heart hammered violently against his chest.
Thump.
Thump.
It wasn't nervousness.
It was excitement.
A tremor that came from the deepest part of his soul.
"It's finally here…"
He murmured inwardly.
"Watch me, Haruko. And you too, Old Man."
"Today is the day genius Sakuragi Hanamichi shocks all of Japan!"
Just then, Mitsui Hisashi, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke.
He was clutching that damn Basketball Weekly in his hand. He walked over to Coach Anzai, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he was gripping it.
"Coach."
Mitsui's expression was dark enough to drip ink.
He jabbed his finger hard against the glaring "C" printed on the magazine.
"They rated Shohoku as a C-class team."
"Bottom of the C-tier. They say we're nothing more than cannon fodder destined to get eliminated in the first round."
"What do you think?"
Mitsui gritted his teeth, unwilling anger burning in his eyes.
The room instantly fell silent.
Everyone turned toward Coach Anzai.
The old man who normally wore a gentle smile was sitting on the bench, holding the magazine in his hands.
He pushed up his reflective glasses.
He looked at the "C."
Then at the "A" rating that had practically crowned Toyotama as unbeatable.
And then…
"Hehehehe~"
Coach Anzai laughed.
His whole body shook with laughter, his chubby cheeks and chin wobbling like jelly.
It was as though he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world.
"Very good. Very good."
Mitsui froze.
"Huh? Very good?"
Has the old man gone senile from anger?
They're practically stomping on our faces, and he's calling that good?
Coach Anzai lowered the magazine and looked up.
His gaze swept across every young man in the room.
There was no anger in his eyes.
Only the wisdom of someone who had seen through the ways of the world, along with a hint of… cunning.
"Mitsui-kun, everyone."
Coach Anzai's voice was gentle, yet carried an undeniable weight.
"Isn't this much more interesting?"
"Most people don't think we'll win."
"In their eyes, we're the underdogs. The stepping stones. A team that merely showed up to make up the numbers."
Coach Anzai paused.
The smile on his face deepened.
It was the smile of a hunter watching his prey walk straight into a trap.
"Once the game is over, we'll know whether these so-called experts were actually experts… or just experts at talking nonsense."
"And since they've given us a C rating…"
"Then let's show them."
Coach Anzai suddenly stood up.
In that instant, the kindly old man's silhouette seemed to swell behind him, as though a gigantic white-haired demon had risen from his back.
His entire presence erupted.
"Think bigger."
"Let's tell everyone!"
"This evaluation…"
"Is completely, utterly wrong!"
BOOM!
Those words were like a spark thrown into a barrel of gunpowder.
All the suppressed tension, anxiety, and frustration in the room instantly transformed into blazing fighting spirit.
"OOOHHHHHH!!!"
Akagi Takenori roared and raised his fist.
"SHOHOKU!!"
Everyone gathered into a circle, stacking their hands together.
Hot palms.
Hot blood.
Hot hearts.
"One! Two! Three!"
"CONQUER THE NATION!!!"
Their roar shook the heavens.
Even the locker-room door trembled from the sheer volume.
...
Inside the Gymnasium
Looking around, almost the entire stands had been occupied by Toyotama High's cheering section.
It was an oppressive, suffocating ocean of deep blue.
There were no cheers.
Only beast-like roars, vicious insults, and the foulest curses Osaka had to offer.
Against that blue tsunami, Shohoku's pitiful little cheering section looked like a tiny wooden raft that could break apart at any moment in a storm.
Takamiya Nozomi clutched two empty plastic bottles in his hands, his belly bouncing with every step.
He struggled over the railing before dropping himself into a seat.
"Creak!"
The plastic chair let out a miserable groan.
"What kind of crappy place is this?"
"The chair isn't even as sturdy as the toilet seat at my house."
Takamiya wiped the oily sweat from his forehead and curled his lip in disdain.
"So this is what an A-class powerhouse looks like?"
"Other than having loud mouths, their manners are below zero."
He shook the empty bottles in his hands.
They were his "low-budget weapons of mass destruction," prepared specifically to fight back against the deafening noise.
"These Toyotama guys really haven't learned how to think big."
Yohei Mito followed behind him with both hands in his pockets.
His lazy gaze swept across the fierce-looking faces surrounding them, but there wasn't a trace of warmth in his eyes.
"Enough complaining."
Yohei leaned against the railing, a playful smile curling across his lips.
"At least we made it."
"If we missed Hanamichi's national debut, that idiot would probably come after us and headbutt our stomachs."
Yuji Ohkusu and Chuichirou Noma also gathered around.
"Speaking of which…"
Noma suddenly pointed toward the entrance tunnel.
Several girls were hurrying toward them, gasping for breath.
It was Haruko and her friends, along with Sakuragi's "Men of the Flame" cheering squad led by Yohei's friend Tetsuo.
Haruko had deliberately changed into a light T-shirt. Her cheeks were flushed, and she tightly gripped two inflatable cheering sticks.
"Haruko! Slow down!"
Fujii bent over, hands on her knees, feeling as though her lungs were about to explode.
"The game… hasn't even started yet…"
But before they had even warmed their seats, the overwhelming barrage of insults raining down from the surrounding stands came crashing over them like a bucket of ice water.
"Kill them!"
"Go back to Kanagawa and suck on your mama's milk!"
The violent language was practically psychological pollution for ordinary high school girls.
Matsui shrank her neck, her face pale.
"That's terrifying…"
"Is this really just a basketball game?"
"Why does it feel like we've walked into a gang war?"
Just then...
The lights throughout the arena suddenly dimmed.
A massive spotlight cut through the darkness like a sword, stabbing directly toward the players' tunnel.
"They're coming!" Fujii screamed.
From the darkened entrance, red-and-black jerseys burst onto the court like flames.
Akagi Takenori led the way, a moving fortress.
Behind him came Kaede Rukawa, Ryota Miyagi, Hisashi Mitsui…
And walking among them was Lin Bei, looking as though he had just woken up, yet carrying an unmistakably intimidating presence.
And then…
That blindingly shiny bald head.
"GO, SHOHOKU!!"
Haruko pressed the cheering sticks to her mouth and screamed with everything she had.
Her clear voice was instantly swallowed by Toyotama's tsunami of boos.
It didn't even create a ripple.
But the boys on the court heard it.
Sakuragi Hanamichi suddenly raised his head.
The spotlight struck his gleaming bald head, reflecting a blinding ray of light.
His short red hair.
His fierce, wild eyes.
The muscular build beneath his jersey.
That appearance…
Even in Toyotama's hostile home arena, a place packed with roughnecks and hooligans, he looked every bit like a hardcore street thug.
If anything...
He looked even more vicious.