Chapter 244: The Return of the Old Knee Problem
The net rippled.
It was the most beautiful sound in the world.
3–9.
The entire gym was stunned.
"Hey, hey, hey! You've got to be kidding me. From that far away?"
"That was a logo three-pointer! It had to be luck!"
Makino Juro landed.
His golden pupils swept across the entire court once again.
At that moment, no one dared meet his gaze.
Finally, his eyes settled on Kishimoto, who was still kneeling on the floor with a blank expression.
"Hey."
Makino Juro tilted his head slightly. His voice was cold as ice, yet carried a hint of mockery.
"Weren't you laughing pretty hard just now?"
"Go on. Keep laughing."
Kishimoto Minori supported himself against the hardwood with both hands, his fingers pressing down so hard it looked like he might dig straight through the floor.
His knees burned fiercely, as though he had knelt on red-hot iron.
But he couldn't feel the pain.
All he felt was humiliation.
The kind of public humiliation that made him feel as though he had been stripped naked and thrown under a spotlight.
It surged up his spine, burning all the way to the top of his head.
What the hell had just happened?
He had been crossed over and dropped?
By that seemingly lazy first-year rookie who looked like he hadn't even fully woken up yet?
With the simplest, most brutally direct change of direction, Makino Juro had made him fall flat on his knees in front of the entire gym?
"Impossible…"
Kishimoto clenched his back teeth and suddenly sprang up from the floor as if his body had been fitted with a pair of springs.
"Tch!"
Kishimoto stubbornly kept his neck straight, deliberately refusing to look at Makino Juro's back.
Instead, he loudly shouted at his teammates, his voice noticeably louder than necessary, as though he were trying to convince himself.
"This damn floor is too slippery!"
"What are the staff even doing?!"
"They should've replaced it ages ago!"
As he shouted, he exaggeratedly rubbed his knees.
His facial features were scrunched together as though he were enduring unimaginable pain.
"Hiss… And on top of that, my old knee problem flared up again. I couldn't put any strength into that last move."
His voice was loud enough for the entire gym to hear.
The spectators in the stands exchanged glances.
Then a wave of quiet jeers slowly spread through the crowd.
What an act.
Kainan Section
Maki Shinichi had been sitting with his arms folded, wearing the solemn expression of an emperor as he analyzed the situation on the court.
But when he heard the words old knee problem, the corner of his eyebrow twitched violently.
For some reason, a phantom pain suddenly shot through his own knee.
It was almost as if he had been struck by an invisible arrow.
"Maki?"
Jin Soichiro noticed his captain's strange reaction.
He turned toward him with genuine concern, his eyes clear and innocent.
"What's wrong? Is your knee bothering you?"
Maki's expression stiffened.
At that moment, Kishimoto's words, old knee problem, were playing on an endless loop inside his head like a cursed spell.
And on top of that, Sakuragi Hanamichi was always calling him an "old man."
The face of the so-called Emperor of Kanagawa visibly darkened until it looked like the bottom of a cooking pot.
"No."
Maki gave a tactical cough.
Without drawing attention to himself, he shifted his sitting position and pulled his leg back into the shadows.
"I've been sitting too long. It got a little stiff."
Elsewhere, Shohoku Bench
"Wahahahahaha!!"
Sakuragi Hanamichi threw both arms into the air, laughing like a two-hundred-pound idiot.
He pointed at Kishimoto, who was still rubbing his knee and putting on his Oscar-worthy performance.
"Serves you right! That's what you get for acting so arrogant!"
"You ponytail bastard! What goes around comes around! Instant karma!"
All the anger he had felt from being mocked earlier vanished completely.
He was having the time of his life.
After laughing for a while, Sakuragi suddenly remembered something.
He spun around and dropped his massive rear onto the bench beside Coach Anzai.
His restless hands naturally reached toward Coach Anzai's round chin.
Pat. Pat.
He started tapping it like some kind of premium pudding with an exceptionally satisfying bounce.
"Old Man!"
While playing with his coach's chin, Sakuragi leaned toward that round face, his expression filled with indignation.
"You know how strong this genius is."
"That shot just now had a tiny little accident, but you saw the feel I had for the ball!"
"Why did you take me out?!"
"That ponytail bastard's mentality is completely shattered now! This is the perfect chance for me to kick him while he's down!"
"I could've crossed him too! I really could!"
"I already practiced it in my head a hundred times!"
Coach Anzai simply smiled and let him fiddle with his chin.
The light reflected off his glasses, making him look like a smiling Buddha.
He said nothing.
PAK!
A sharp crack rang out.
A folding fan struck Sakuragi squarely on his smooth, bald, red head.
"Ow, ow, ow!!"
Sakuragi jumped up while clutching his head, tears welling in his eyes as he turned around.
"Big Sis Ayako! You're gonna make me stupid!"
Ayako pulled the paper fan back and planted both hands on her hips, her eyebrows shooting upward.
"Stop it!"
"Show some respect to your coach! Do you want to die?"
"And besides…"
She turned toward the figure on the court and tightened her grip on the fan.
"We didn't take you out because you were playing badly."
Beside her, Kogure Kiminobu adjusted his glasses and gently patted Sakuragi on the shoulder.
His tone carried the patient calm of someone trying to soothe a restless wild animal.
"Sakuragi, calm down."
"This isn't a punishment."
"Look at what's happening on the court."
Kogure pointed toward Makino Juro, who was retreating on defense, his expression serious.
"Toyotama's pace is simply too fast. It's chaos, a pack of mad dogs tearing everything apart."
"If you get caught up in that rhythm, you'll inevitably start running with them, jumping with them, and eventually they'll wear you down."
"We need someone who can control the pace and put a leash on this pack of mad dogs."
"We took you out so Makino Juro can stabilize the game and turn this from a 'street brawl' into a 'half-court siege.'"
Sakuragi blinked, only half understanding.
He scratched the back of his head.
"A half-court siege?"
"Exactly. Don't let them run."
Kogure explained, his gaze firm.
"That's something only Juro can do."
On the Court
Toyotama had possession.
Baseline inbound.
The atmosphere had become strangely tense.
The frenzied pace that had previously resembled a pack of rabid dogs charging forward had inexplicably slowed by a fraction.
Point guard Itakura Daijiro held the ball, his eyes drifting slightly.
He instinctively glanced toward Kishimoto.
Their star forward was currently wearing a dark expression, his gaze unfocused.
Clearly, he still hadn't recovered from the humiliation of being dropped to his knees.
His toes were probably still trying to dig a hole through the floor.
"Tch."
Itakura gritted his teeth and fired the ball toward his captain, Minami Tsuyoshi.
Minami caught it.
But unlike usual, he didn't immediately launch a fast break.
He stood beyond the three-point line, the palm of his shooting hand slightly sweaty and sticky.
His gaze passed over the defender and locked firmly onto Makino Juro inside the paint.
The guy wearing Number 16 was standing there lazily.
He wasn't even in a proper defensive stance.
His entire body looked loose and relaxed, seemingly full of openings.
But Minami's instincts were screaming at him.
The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
Danger.
Extremely dangerous.
Those pale golden eyes that occasionally swept toward him were cold and emotionless, like a raptor silently judging its prey.
"There's no way I can pass to Kishimoto."
Minami instantly reached his conclusion.
Kishimoto's mentality was still shattered.
Passing to him now would only invite a turnover.
"I'll do it myself!"
Minami's eyes hardened.
Since the pace had slowed down, he would use a three-pointer to seize the momentum again!
Without any unnecessary movement, the moment Rukawa Kaede closed in on him, Minami immediately rose into a pull-up jumper.
His release was lightning-fast!
The signature weapon of Osaka's scoring king...
the Quick Shot!
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
👉 /MrBehringer