Miyagi Ryota was pinching his own thigh as hard as he could.
His face had turned the color of pig liver.
What the hell do you mean "drained dry"?!
You don't have a brain to begin with, okay?!
And you actually believed that?!
"And besides, look."
Makino Juro decided to deliver the final, decisive blow.
He pointed dramatically toward the ceiling, as if the sacred truths of basketball were enshrined there.
"Shaq, the guy currently rampaging through the NBA paint, is bald too."
"The truly strong are all bald."
"Because they've activated Power Saving Mode."
"They redirect all their nutrients and processing power straight to the brain!"
"Hanamichi, tell me."
"Do you want to be an ordinary man with a pompadour?"
"Or do you want to become a bald Basketball God?"
At that moment...
a blazing fire ignited in Sakuragi Hanamichi's eyes.
It was the fire of enlightenment.
The fire of a man whose IQ had just been successfully talked into going offline.
"I understand now..."
Sakuragi clenched his fist.
Then he spun around and sprinted toward the exit, creating a miniature tornado in his wake.
"Wait! Practice isn't over yet!" Miyagi shouted.
"Forget practice!"
"This genius is going to evolve!"
"I'm going to uninstall my excess hair!"
Sakuragi's voice echoed from afar, filled with heroic determination.
"Just wait!"
"Tomorrow's Sakuragi Hanamichi will be the completed version of a genius!!"
Watching his disappearing back, Makino Juro finally lost control.
A wicked grin spread across his face.
"Pffft—HAHAHAHAHA..."
Mitsui Hisashi finally broke.
He laughed so hard he punched the floor repeatedly.
"Juro... you bastard..."
"Power Saving Mode?!"
"How is that being a bastard?"
Makino Juro shrugged innocently.
"This is called necessary image management and psychological conditioning for the future of the team."
"And besides..."
"A shiny bald head probably feels pretty satisfying to touch."
The next day.
Morning rush-hour train.
Normally, the carriage would be packed tighter than a can of sardines.
Today, however, something strange had happened.
One particular carriage was almost completely empty.
All the passengers had crowded into the neighboring cars.
Through the glass doors, they stared into the isolated carriage with expressions of pure terror.
At its center stood a single man.
A white T-shirt.
Hands in his pockets.
But the most eye-catching feature was the bright red bald head gleaming under the morning sunlight.
Combined with Sakuragi Hanamichi's naturally fierce face—
and the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth from not getting enough sleep,
he looked nothing like a high school student.
He looked more like a yakuza boss who had just escaped from prison after collecting a double-digit body count.
"Th-that's a professional hitman, right?"
"Definitely! Look at the reflection off that head! That's killing intent made visible!"
"Mommy, I'm scared... I want to go home..."
"Shh! Don't look at him! He'll silence us!"
The surrounding whispers buzzed like mosquitoes.
Meanwhile, the man at the center of the storm was completely oblivious.
Sakuragi stared at his reflection in the train window.
He lovingly rubbed his prickly scalp.
"Heh heh heh..."
"Just as I thought."
"After cutting my hair, my mind feels unbelievably clear."
"So this is the perspective of the strong."
"Even air resistance feels lower now."
"Looks like these ordinary mortals are intimidated by the overwhelming aura of this genius..."
Sakuragi flashed a broad grin.
Showing off a mouthful of gleaming white teeth.
"AAAAAHHHH! HE SMILED!"
"HE'S MAKING HIS MOVE!!"
A chorus of screams erupted from the neighboring carriage.
The crowd retreated another three meters.
Shohoku High School.
The moment a certain figure carrying an extremely high-wattage red lightbulb for a head stepped through the school gates—
the noisy hallway instantly fell silent.
Everyone stopped walking.
Their eyes locked onto Sakuragi's scalp as though magnetized.
The head-turning rate?
Two hundred percent.
Completely off the charts.
"Is that... Sakuragi?"
"Oh my God. Has he finally lost his mind?"
"I heard he got rejected too many times. Did he suffer such a huge emotional blow that he attained enlightenment?"
Sakuragi strode proudly down the hallway.
Chest out.
Head high.
Walking with the confidence of a supermodel on a runway.
He accepted every stare without hesitation.
In his mind, these weren't looks of shock.
They were looks of admiration.
The awe of mortals witnessing a miracle.
"Yo, Hanamichi!"
A familiar voice called from behind.
Sakuragi turned around.
The four members of the Sakuragi Army stood there in perfect formation.
Each wore an expression so dramatic it looked as though aliens had landed.
Takamiya Nozomi dropped his potato chips.
Ohkusu Yuji's jaw hung open wide enough to fit a lightbulb.
Noma Chuichirou clutched his stomach, desperately trying not to laugh.
Only Mito Yohei managed to remain somewhat composed.
Though his violently trembling shoulders betrayed him.
"PFFFT—HAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
At last, explosive laughter filled the hallway.
It nearly blew the roof off.
"Hanamichi! Y-Your head! HAHAHAHAHA!"
Takamiya rolled across the floor laughing.
Tears streamed down his face.
"Are you becoming a monk?! What's your Buddhist name?! HAHAHAHA!"
"Shut up!"
"This is the hairstyle of a genius!"
"It's to prevent nutrient loss from my brain!"
"It's science!"
"Master Juro said so—"
"Wait, why are you laughing?!"
Veins bulged on Sakuragi's forehead.
He punched Takamiya's fat belly.
DOONG!
The impact produced a surprisingly satisfying sound.
"Though I have to admit..."
"Your bald head feels incredible."
Yohei wiped tears from the corners of his eyes.
Then walked over and patted Sakuragi's prickly scalp.
Unexpectedly excellent texture.
"Can't be helped."
Sakuragi snorted proudly.
"This is the fate of celebrities."
"Every movement attracts attention."
He brushed aside imaginary bangs.
Then struck what he believed was an extremely handsome pose.
His nostrils pointed proudly toward the heavens.
"Well, if we're celebrities..."
"We can't waste this opportunity."
Takamiya and the others immediately turned toward the gathered students.
They began shouting like veteran salesmen.
"Come one, come all!"
"Shohoku Basketball Club's secret weapon!"
"The legendary Red-Headed Monk!"
"A once-in-a-lifetime chance to experience greatness up close!"
"Touch the head: 100 yen!"
"Photo opportunity: 50 yen!"
"Looking only: 20 yen!"
"Line up! Line up!"
"Anyone wanting to absorb some genius luck, don't miss out!"
"Fair prices for all ages!"
The rest of the Sakuragi Army instantly understood the assignment.
They immediately began organizing the crowd and collecting money.
"Hey, don't just stare!"
"The texture is amazing!"
"Only 100 yen!"
"This head has been blessed!"
Business boomed.
Money flowed in.
Then suddenly...
the crowd parted down the middle.
Like Moses splitting the Red Sea.
"Sakuragi-kun?"
A clear, sweet voice filled with surprise rang out.
Sakuragi froze instantly.
As though struck by a paralysis spell.
His bright red bald head turned an even deeper shade of crimson.
It looked ready to start steaming.
Like a freshly boiled egg.
Slowly...
very slowly—
he turned around.
His joints cracked loudly.
Crack. Crack.
Standing outside the crowd was Akagi Haruko.
One hand covered her mouth.
Her large eyes were filled with shock.
Beside her stood Fujii.
Who looked absolutely horrified.
As if she'd just seen a ghost.
"H-Haruko-san!"
Sakuragi instantly panicked.
He reflexively tried to cover his head.
Then decided that wasn't manly enough.
So his hand flailed awkwardly in midair like a drowning duck.
"Th-This is for training!"
"Yeah! Training!"
"This is called cutting off one's hair to strengthen one's resolve!"
Haruko blinked.
Then slowly lowered her hand.
Suddenly—
a dazzling smile bloomed across her face.
It was so radiant that the entire scene seemed wrapped in a soft-focus filter.
"So cute!"
"...Eh?"
Sakuragi's brain crashed on the spot.
END OF CHAPTER
Disciple of Beerus - MrBehringer's Secret
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