But what happened next was even more ridiculous.
The basketball that had been slammed into the floor traced a bizarre arc through the air and somehow headed straight for the basket.
Clang—swish!
It went in.
A bounce pass off the hardwood.
Nothing but net.
Kiyota Nobunaga landed while still holding his dramatic dunk pose.
The entire man froze in place.
The embarrassment was so overwhelming that his toes practically started digging a three-bedroom apartment into the court.
"Damn it!!"
"I messed up! I totally blew it!"
His face turned crimson with shame.
In the stands, Sakuragi Hanamichi erupted into a goose-like fit of laughter.
Slapping his thigh and nearly crying from laughing too hard, he howled:
"WAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"What the hell is that monkey doing?!"
"He didn't even touch the ball!"
"I'm dying here!"
Veins bulged across Kiyota's forehead as he listened to Sakuragi's mockery.
He was just about to fire back when a wave of astonished cries suddenly rose from the other end of the court.
"That's—!"
On Ryonan's side, Akira Sendoh stood beyond the three-point line, wearing his trademark lazy smile.
Without even looking at the basket, he casually flicked the ball into the air.
At the same moment, a figure cut along the baseline like a phantom.
Fukuda!
The man whose eyes always burned with hunger soared into the air, catching the pass.
His body arched backward like a fully drawn bow.
BOOM!!
A one-handed alley-oop slam!
Clean.
Efficient.
Brutal.
No unnecessary movements.
Just pure chemistry and the beauty of raw violence.
"WOOOOOOOAH!!"
The entire arena exploded.
"That was incredible!!"
"Sendoh! Sendoh!"
"Fukuda! Fukuda!"
That perfect alley-oop instantly crushed Kiyota's abstract art performance into the dirt.
Grinding it into dust.
Kiyota gritted his teeth.
"Damn Ryonan..."
"You did that on purpose just to embarrass me, didn't you?!"
From the stands, Makino Juro let out a sharp whistle.
"Beautiful!"
"Sendoh and Fukuda really are something."
BEEEEEEP!
"Time's up! Both teams, gather!"
At courtside, the two armies faced each other.
Coach Taoka stood with his hands behind his back, looking every bit like a general preparing to march into battle.
Across from him, Coach Riki Takato gently waved his folding fan, his expression unreadable.
The two men met at center court.
And shook hands.
The air seemed to crackle with invisible sparks.
"Please take care of us."
Takato smiled faintly.
A flash of light reflected off his glasses, concealing the sharpness in his eyes.
Taoka replied with a smile that never reached his eyes.
"Takato, you're still putting on airs as always."
"Losing to Shohoku and still acting composed."
"Your mental toughness is impressive."
Takato's fan paused for half a second.
His smile stiffened.
Then he immediately counterattacked.
"Likewise."
"I heard Shohoku wiped the floor with your team."
"Looks like Ryonan isn't all that special this year."
The two men subtly increased the pressure in their handshake.
Their knuckles turned white.
Behind Ryonan's bench, Hikoichi clutched his notebook, eyes sparkling with gossip.
"Big Sis..."
"Coach and Coach Takato..."
"Do they have some kind of secret history together?"
"The atmosphere feels weird."
Ayako Aida curled her lips into an amused smile.
"This is one of Kanagawa's oldest grudges."
Back at the bench.
Seeing the curiosity written all over his players' faces, Taoka suddenly let out a long sigh.
Crossing his arms, his gaze turned deep and melancholic.
As though he were staring through the river of time itself.
"Since you're all asking so sincerely..."
"I shall graciously tell you."
His voice dropped into a dramatic, magnetic tone.
The kind of voice people used when trying very hard to sound cool.
"Takato and I have been rivals since our high school days."
Every Ryonan player immediately perked up.
Time for some gossip.
Taoka tilted his head forty-five degrees toward the arena ceiling.
His eyes grew distant.
"When I was a second-year student, Takato was known as the 'Terrifying Super Rookie.'"
The players nodded.
That sounded believable.
Then Taoka changed the subject and proudly raised his chin.
"But back then, I wasn't inferior to him in the slightest."
"In that era of countless rising stars..."
"I, too, possessed a legendary title."
He paused dramatically before announcing:
"They called me the Ali of Kanagawa."
The entire team immediately looked skeptical.
Taoka, however, was completely immersed in his own fantasy.
His self-confidence had reached critical levels.
Pointing at Sendoh, he declared:
"If I had to make a comparison..."
"I was basically today's Sendoh."
Then he pointed toward the distant Takato.
"And he was like Rukawa."
"Or that arrogant brat Makino Juro."
"We were two genius rivals, constantly pushing and reflecting each other."
Silence.
Deathly silence.
Even the air froze.
Every member of Ryonan stared at their coach's face.
A face that practically screamed:
Go ahead. Tell me how handsome and amazing I was.
Uozumi's mouth twitched.
Sendoh's smile froze.
Koshino and Uekusa exchanged awkward looks.
The next second...
The entire Ryonan team moved in perfect synchronization.
As though they had rehearsed this moment a thousand times.
Every single player pointed directly at Taoka and roared:
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TRYING TO FOOL?!!!"
The shout shook the entire arena.
Even the players on the Kainan side jumped in surprise.
A giant sweat drop slid down Taoka's forehead.
Embarrassed and furious, he shouted back:
"You little brats! What's with that reaction?!"
"I was genuinely amazing when I was young!"
"And besides—"
"That Makino Juro kid might be handsome, but where does he compare to my glorious prime?!"
The uproar in Ryonan's bench vanished instantly.
Like a blade had sliced through the noise.
As the referees signaled for the teams to take the court, Taoka's face returned to its trademark stern expression.
The oppressive aura of an old-school coach immediately descended upon the team.
"One last thing."
Taoka sat cross-legged on the floor and waved everyone over like a farmer herding ducks.
"Come here."
"Form a circle."
"Take a deep breath."
Uozumi.
Sendoh.
Fukuda.
Koshino.
A group of towering athletes obediently sat around him.
Like kindergarteners waiting for story time.
Thousands of spectators roared around them.
Yet inside that small circle, the air felt thick enough to suffocate.
"Close your eyes."
Taoka lowered his voice, trying to create the atmosphere of a master hypnotist.
"Think back to these past few months."
"Think about the sand that filled your shoes during those beach runs."
"Think about those shuttle sprints that nearly made your lungs explode."
"Think about the sound of sweat crashing onto the floor and pooling into rivers."
"Think about all that pain..."
"The kind of pain that made life feel worse than death."
The players closed their eyes.
Silence.
One second.
Two seconds.
The face attached to Uozumi Jun's towering two-meter frame began to twist.
His brow furrowed so hard it could have crushed a fly.
His muscles twitched uncontrollably.
Koshino's face visibly paled.
His Adam's apple bobbed wildly as if he had swallowed a burning piece of charcoal.
Fukuda was even worse.
Cold sweat streamed down his temples.
His body instinctively rejected the very concept of "pain."
Watching his disciples sink deeper and deeper into their memories, Taoka nodded in satisfaction.
Exactly.
Pain was fuel.
Hardship was the forge that tempered steel.
"Good! Open your eyes!"
Taoka slammed the tactics board with a loud smack.
His eyes blazed with intensity.
"Now tell me."
"What did you see?"
"Was it your thirst for victory?"
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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