Across the Pacific, in Orlando, Florida.
The Florida sun blazed mercilessly, as if it wanted to roast the oil out of anyone standing beneath it.
This was one of America's premier sports rehabilitation centers.
But over the past few days, Akagi Takenori had started to feel like it was less a rehab facility and more a Jurassic Park exhibit.
Akagi sat slumped on a bench at the edge of the court.
His injured ankle was wrapped in a thick ice pack.
His gaze was completely vacant.
Not far away stood a moving mountain of black flesh.
Yes.
The only suitable description was a mountain of flesh.
Over 215 centimeters tall by visual estimate.
Weight: unknown.
Every step he took made the hardwood floor groan in protest.
"Hey! Stan! Stop chasing me!"
"I only took one bite!"
"Just one tiny bite!"
The mountain of flesh weaved surprisingly nimbly through the training equipment area.
In each hand was a giant hamburger.
His cheeks bulged like a massive black bear caught stealing honey.
Behind him, a nutritionist in a white lab coat waved a body-fat caliper furiously, his face red with rage.
"O'Neal!"
"Put down that garbage food!"
"Your body fat percentage is climbing again!"
"Do you want to destroy your knees?!"
"Bullshit!"
The giant known as Shaquille O'Neal stuffed the rest of a burger into his mouth while running.
Mumbling through a mouthful of food, he shot back:
"I'm a man who's going to dominate the paint!"
"How am I supposed to get stronger without eating?"
"You don't know a damn thing!"
"If you're not big enough, how are you supposed to move those crafty veterans around in the NBA?"
Akagi's lips twitched.
This... is the monster who just won NBA Rookie of the Year?
Over the last few days, his eyes had truly been opened.
Aside from training and sleeping...
The man spent all his remaining time either battling hunger...
Or leading his nutritionist around like a dog on a leash.
It was as if a bottomless black hole lived inside that enormous body.
Perhaps he had finally grown tired of running.
Or perhaps Akagi's stern, guardian-statue-like face had caught his attention.
The giant lumbered over and dropped onto the bench beside him.
Creeeak—
The bench cried out miserably under the strain.
It sounded ready to collapse at any moment.
"Hey, shorty."
O'Neal wiped burger sauce from the corner of his mouth and flashed a dazzling grin.
Then casually smacked Akagi on the shoulder.
In that instant, half of Akagi's body went numb.
"I've noticed you've been staring at me these past few days."
"Don't tell me you've fallen for my handsome charm?"
Akagi rubbed his tingling shoulder and answered in reasonably fluent English.
"I've watched your highlights."
"You're incredible."
"I'm a high school player."
"I play center too."
"A high school player?"
O'Neal's eyes widened.
Like he'd just discovered a new continent.
He looked Akagi up and down.
"You know, you look exactly like that old gorilla Ewing."
"Especially the hairstyle and that serious face."
"But you're a lot easier on the eyes."
"At least you haven't tried to elbow me yet."
As if on cue, his stomach released a thunderous growl.
O'Neal glanced around suspiciously.
Then leaned closer and lowered his voice.
"Hey, brother."
"Want to grab something to eat?"
"You're way too skinny."
Akagi froze for a moment.
Looking at the monster who shattered backboards in NBA games...
A thought suddenly surfaced.
This might be an opportunity.
A golden opportunity.
Half an hour later.
A quiet corner of the rehabilitation center.
O'Neal let out a satisfied belch.
Five completely empty pizza boxes were stacked in front of him.
"Man... that hit the spot."
Patting his round stomach, he looked at Akagi with fatherly affection.
"You're a good guy, Akagi."
"From now on, if anyone gives you trouble around here, just tell them Shaq sent you."
Akagi sat upright.
His expression carried the same seriousness he used when speaking with Coach Anzai.
"Mr. O'Neal."
"I actually have a request."
"Go ahead."
"I'm listening, since you bought the pizza."
O'Neal lazily picked at his teeth.
"I want to learn how a true center plays."
Akagi's eyes sharpened.
"I'll be facing very strong opponents soon."
"I want to improve before then."
"Experience, huh?"
O'Neal paused.
The playful grin disappeared instantly.
He stood up.
His massive shadow swallowed Akagi whole.
"Talking about it won't teach you anything."
"Real experience is what matters."
He crooked a finger and pointed toward the indoor court nearby.
"Since you bought me lunch..."
"Uncle Shaq will teach you a thing or two."
"Come on."
"Grab a ball."
Inside the empty training court.
Akagi stood in the low post with a basketball tucked under his arm.
His ankle wasn't fully healed.
But a few movements wouldn't be a problem.
"Come on."
"Attack."
"Use your best move."
O'Neal stood beneath the basket.
He didn't even bother taking a defensive stance.
His arms simply hung open lazily.
Akagi inhaled deeply.
He was the King of Kanagawa.
The pillar of Shohoku.
Even against the NBA's Rookie of the Year...
He wanted to know exactly where he stood.
"HAAAH!"
With a roar, Akagi drove backward.
His signature back-down move.
The post-up attack that had dominated courts throughout Japan.
Even Uozumi Jun would be forced back half a step by that collision.
However—
BANG!
A dull impact echoed through the gym.
Akagi felt as though he had slammed into a seawall reinforced with steel and concrete.
O'Neal didn't move.
Not even a centimeter.
His heels never left the floor.
Instead, the recoil traveled back into Akagi's body.
His chest tightened.
His balance nearly collapsed.
"That's it?"
O'Neal's voice drifted down from above.
Mocking amusement colored his tone.
"Did you skip breakfast?"
"Are you scratching my back?"
"Patrick Ewing Junior?"
Akagi gritted his teeth.
Without hesitation, he spun and rose for a hook shot.
At that moment.
The lights vanished.
No.
The sky vanished.
A giant hand descended from above.
As casually as swatting a fly.
SLAP!!
Ball and man alike were sent flying.
The basketball rocketed away.
Akagi himself was knocked to the floor by the overwhelming force.
Sliding nearly two meters across the hardwood.
Absolute domination.
No fancy techniques.
No complicated skills.
Just pure physical superiority crushing him from an entirely different dimension.
"Was that your best?"
O'Neal picked up the basketball and spun it effortlessly on one finger.
"Now it's my turn."
"You defend."
Akagi climbed back to his feet.
Brushing dust from his knees.
There was no fear in his eyes.
Only a wildfire that had been ignited.
"Come!"
He lowered his stance.
Pressing himself firmly against O'Neal's waist.
Every muscle in his body tightened like steel cables.
O'Neal turned his back to him and began dribbling.
Bang. Bang.
Each dribble landed like a war drum against Akagi's heart.
Then—
O'Neal moved.
No fake.
No setup.
Just a brutally simple spin move.
Fast.
Absurdly fast.
He was supposed to be a heavy tank.
Yet the instant he turned, he moved with the agility of a Ferrari.
His enormous hips and shoulders instantly displaced all the space Akagi had fought to claim.
A tsunami of force crashed into him.
Akagi's feet slid backward uncontrollably.
His sneakers shrieked against the floor.
Then...
The colossal figure exploded upward.
A giant blotting out the sky.
BOOOOOOM!!!
The rim screamed in agony.
As though it might snap in half at any moment.
O'Neal hung from the basket with one hand.
His legs swinging casually in the air.
Looking down at Akagi beneath him.
"See that?"
O'Neal dropped to the floor.
The hardwood trembled beneath the impact.
Then he looked directly at Akagi and said:
"This."
"This is what a center really is."
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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