Uozumi Jun followed behind, his brows tightly knit.
"But Coach, isn't that exactly what makes Fujima so impressive? He can calmly analyze the situation…"
"Calm?"
Taoka stopped in his tracks and turned his head, his gaze sharp as a blade.
"Uozumi, do you really think he was calm?"
"At the very end—when that first-year, Makino Juro, started stirring things up, and when Sakuragi Hanamichi began playing completely outside the norm—Fujima panicked."
"As a player, he wanted to win. He wanted to score. He wanted to turn the tide on his own."
"But as a coach, he had to think about tactics, substitutions, and the team's overall defense."
Taoka Moichi raised a finger and tapped his temple.
"One mind can't serve two masters."
"If Shoyo had a dedicated coach—just an ordinary one—"
"As long as someone could sit on the sidelines and share Fujima's burden, allowing him to focus entirely on being just a player…"
"…then maybe today's result would have been completely different."
At that, Taoka couldn't help but recall the final moments—
Fujima's bloodshot eyes, filled with confusion and strain.
"What a pity."
"His era hadn't even fully bloomed… before it was torn apart by that pack of beasts from Shohoku."
Hearing this, Sendoh Akira raised an eyebrow slightly, his gaze drifting toward Shohoku's locker room.
"Coach, instead of worrying about Fujima, shouldn't we be more concerned about ourselves?"
"That Makino Juro… and Sakuragi…"
"The chemical reaction between those two is more terrifying than a bomb."
Taoka's body stiffened.
The next second, his face turned livid, a vein bulging at his temple.
"Enough nonsense! Back to training!"
"No matter what kind of monsters they are, Ryonan has only one goal!"
"Defeat Kainan—and advance to the Nationals!"
"Yes, Coach!"
…
Outside Shohoku's locker room, the corridor was far quieter than the arena.
Only the faint sound of a janitor cleaning echoed in the distance.
"Hehehe, Sakuragi must be riding high right now!"
Takamiya Nozomi patted his round belly, a half-eaten bag of chips in hand, grinning mischievously.
"That last dunk was insane!"
"Didn't think he could actually pull it off!"
Ohkusu Yuji gestured excitedly, mimicking the dunk.
"C'mon, let's go in and scare him!"
"And make him treat us to ramen while we're at it!"
"He's a hero now, after all!"
Noma Chuichiro cracked his knuckles, ready to push the door open with a wicked grin.
Mito Yohei walked at the back, hands in his pockets, a faint smile on his lips.
As Sakuragi's closest friend, seeing that former delinquent—who only knew how to fight and fail at love—finally find his own stage…
He felt genuinely happy.
"Easy. Don't break the door," Yohei reminded them.
Just as Takamiya's chubby hand was about to grab the handle—
Click.
The lock turned softly.
The door opened a crack from the inside.
A bespectacled, gentle-looking figure squeezed out.
Kogure Kiminobu.
"Yo! Glasses!"
"We're here to see Hanamichi—"
Takamiya raised his hand to greet him casually.
"Shh!!"
Kogure didn't return the enthusiasm. Instead, his face turned serious—almost nervous.
He raised a finger to his lips in an exaggerated hush gesture.
"Shh! Quiet!!"
He lowered his voice, as if afraid of waking some sleeping beast.
"What's wrong?"
"Did something happen? Is Sakuragi hurt?" Yohei stepped forward, puzzled.
"No, no—not injured."
Kogure shook his head, a helpless yet warm smile appearing on his face.
He didn't explain further. Instead, he stepped aside and gently pushed the door halfway open.
"See for yourselves."
"But whatever you do… don't make a sound."
The four members of the Sakuragi Army exchanged glances.
Curiosity bubbling over, they tiptoed to the doorway and peeked inside.
The next second—
All four of them froze, eyes wide, mouths open wide enough to fit an egg.
The locker room—where one would expect cheers, celebrations, or Akagi Takenori's thunderous scolding—
Was utterly silent.
Except for the hum of the air conditioner…
And the rise and fall of overlapping snores.
It was a bizarre—yet strangely moving—scene.
There were no beds in the locker room. Only long benches and hard flooring.
But the boys, having just gone through a brutal battle, clearly didn't care.
At the very bottom lay Akagi Takenori.
The captain of Shohoku was sprawled on the floor in a giant "starfish" position, completely devoid of dignity.
His usually stern, gorilla-like face was utterly relaxed now, mouth slightly open, snoring like thunder.
And on top of him—
It was practically a human pile.
Mitsui Hisashi sat leaning against a locker, head tilted to the side.
Yet his long legs were casually draped across Akagi's thighs.
Even in his sleep, his brows were slightly furrowed—as if he were still shooting three-pointers in his dreams. His right hand twitched occasionally, mimicking a shooting motion.
To Akagi's left, Miyagi Ryota had his head resting on Akagi's tree-trunk-like arm.
Even asleep, a smug smile lingered on his lips—probably dreaming of Ayako praising him.
And on Akagi's broad, slightly rising stomach.
Lying sprawled out like a giant red blanket—
Was Sakuragi Hanamichi.
The guy had taken off his shirt, lying there bare-chested, limbs spread wide.
His head rested on Akagi's stomach, drool pooling beneath him.
Muttering incoherently:
"I'm… a genius… hahaha…"
But the most outrageous one—
Was Makino Juro.
The laziest guy on the court was now curled up sideways… on top of Sakuragi.
Sakuragi's abs had become the perfect pillow.
As for Rukawa Kaede—
The lone wolf didn't join the magnificent "human stack."
He was curled up alone in the corner by the lockers, sleeping on his side.
And on the tip of his nose…
That signature snot bubble inflated and deflated with each breath.
"This…"
Takamiya was completely dumbfounded, nearly dropping his chips.
"What kind of formation is this? Performance art?"
Ohkusu swallowed hard. "Captain Akagi… isn't he going to get crushed to death?"
"They're just too tired."
Kogure stood at the doorway, gazing at his teammates sprawled across the floor, his eyes gentle—like a parent watching over sleeping children.
"In this game, everyone pushed themselves to the absolute limit."
"Akagi battled in the paint the entire time. Mitsui burned through every ounce of stamina. Miyagi ran nonstop. Rukawa fought on both ends of the court…"
"As for Makino Juro and Sakuragi…"
Kogure paused, his gaze settling on the two figures stacked at the very top.
"If not for their final burst…"
"We wouldn't have won."
He took a soft breath.
"Let them sleep for a while."
"For now…"
"This locker room is off-limits."
END OF CHAPTER
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