The glaring red numbers on the electronic scoreboard were suffocating.
Only 1 minute and 12 seconds remained.
66:60.
Shohoku led by six.
The air reeked of evaporated sweat—salty, metallic, oppressive.
Fujima Kenji's eyes were bloodshot.
His usually refined, composed face was now twisted like a beast cornered at the edge of a cliff.
He gasped for breath, chest heaving violently. Sweat dripped from his hair into his eyes, stinging—but he didn't dare blink.
Because that man… stood right in front of him.
Makino Juro braced his hands on his knees, his body swaying as if a gust of wind could knock him over.
His face was pale as paper, lips cracked dry—a clear sign of complete exhaustion.
And yet, in Fujima's eyes, this opponent who looked like he might collapse at any second…
was more terrifying than a demon from hell.
"So?"
Juro lifted his eyelids slightly, those half-dead fish eyes carrying a maddening laziness and mockery.
"Not coming at me?"
"If you wait any longer… the game's going to end."
"Shut up!!"
Fujima roared, the last thread of his composure snapping.
He lowered his center of gravity and charged straight to the right—
No feints. No tactics.
Just a desperate, pride-driven assault from a king who refused to fall.
But...
At the exact moment Fujima moved, a faint curve appeared at the corner of Makino Juro's lips.
In his vision, Fujima's movement shattered into countless slow-motion frames.
Weight shift. Muscle contraction. Ball trajectory…
Everything was crystal clear.
"Too obvious, senpai…"
Makino Juro murmured.
His sluggish body seemed to surge with a final burst of life, his left hand snapping out like lightning—
Snap!
A crisp steal.
Like the crack of a gunshot signaling execution.
The entire Shoyo bench fell into dead silence.
The ball—stolen.
Fujima's pupils shrank violently as inertia carried him forward. He could only watch helplessly as the orange basketball left his control.
"Fast break!!"
Makino Juro roared with every ounce of strength he had left.
It didn't sound like a command—
It sounded like a beast's final howl.
And up ahead—
A streak of red had already torn through the air.
Sakuragi Hanamichi.
A monster with a bottomless stamina bar.
Even at the final moments of the game, he was still sprinting at full speed like it was tip-off.
Like an out-of-control tank, he thundered across the court, charging straight into Shoyo's territory.
"Don't even think about it!!"
Hasegawa (#5) and Takano (#7) sprinted back like madmen.
One left, one right—like iron gates slamming shut—trying to cut Sakuragi off before the paint.
Makino Juro watched that red figure.
His wrist flicked.
The basketball turned into a blazing orange arc, soaring across half the court—
And dropped… above the backboard.
Not to Sakuragi's hands.
But to the glass.
"That idiot…"
From the backcourt, Rukawa Kaede's pale face flickered with surprise.
Was that… a bad pass?
No.
"Hanagata! Foul him!!"
"Even if you foul, stop him!!"
Fujima shouted in desperation.
He knew—if Sakuragi went to the free-throw line, with that amateur's shooting…
Shohoku's offense would die right there.
Hanagata gritted his teeth and turned to intercept.
But it was already too late.
Facing Hanagata and Takano closing in—
Sakuragi didn't slow down.
One step inside the free-throw line—
His right foot slammed down.
BOOM!
The floor groaned under the impact.
Sakuragi launched into the air, red hair blazing like a wildfire.
He jumped impossibly high.
So high that Hanagata and Takano realized in horror—
Their heads barely reached his chest.
They raised their arms instinctively.
But before absolute talent, such resistance was meaningless.
"Out of my way…!!"
"This is the genius talking!!!"
Sakuragi roared.
Catching the rebounding ball midair, veins bulging in his arms, he smashed it down toward the rim—
With both man and ball descending in a destructive plunge.
BOOOOOM!!!
A thunderous crash.
Louder than anything before.
Hasegawa and Takano were hit like they'd been struck by a speeding truck—
Blown backward, sliding across the floor in complete disarray.
And Sakuragi Hanamichi.
Hung from the violently shaking rim with one hand, looking down upon everything.
A double-poster dunk.
The pinnacle of raw, violent basketball.
68:60.
An eight-point lead.
"WOOOOOAAAHHHHHH!!!"
"Oh my god!! What was that?!"
"Dunking over TWO people?! Are they even high schoolers?!"
The entire arena exploded.
Spectators leapt from their seats, clutching their heads—faces filled with shock and frenzy.
Sakuragi landed, still immersed in the high of that dunk.
But just as he turned to run back—
BEEEEEP!
The referee's sharp whistle cut through the air.
Cold. Unforgiving.
The head referee ran over, expressionless, pointing at Sakuragi and signaling—
Charging foul.
Then raised five fingers.
"White #10, offensive foul! Fifth foul—disqualified!"
In that instant—
Sakuragi froze.
"…NANI?!"
"Old man, are you blind?!"
"That was a SUPER DUNK!!"
He rushed at the referee, spitting words, on the verge of throwing hands.
"Idiot."
"Trying to get suspended?"
Rukawa passed by coldly, tossing out the insult.
Akagi Takenori walked up, face dark—
THUD!
A punch landed squarely on Sakuragi's head.
"Shut up, you moron!"
It was a scolding—
But beneath it, there was a faint tremor.
Pride.
Deep down, Akagi couldn't hide it.
So what if he fouled out?
That dunk had already shattered Shoyo's backbone.
Meanwhile.
Thud.
A dull sound echoed from the other side.
Everyone turned.
Makino Juro had collapsed onto the floor.
Limbs spread out like a dried salted fish.
"…I'm done…"
"Not… a single drop left…"
He rolled his eyes, chest rising and falling violently.
"Substitution."
Coach Anzai stood up at just the right moment.
Kogure Kiminobu and Miyagi Ryota were already warmed up at the sideline.
"Juro, Sakuragi… well done."
For once, Anzai's round face showed a deeply satisfied smile.
Sakuragi trudged toward the bench, head down, still muttering about "bad calls" and "rigged refereeing."
But the moment he stepped out of bounds—
From the stands, a voice suddenly shouted:
"Sakuragi!"
Then—
Like a chain reaction.
"Sakuragi!"
"SAKURAGI!!"
"Redhead! That was amazing!!"
"So cool!!"
Thunderous applause erupted.
Endless. Relentless.
END OF CHAPTER
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The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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