Kishimoto Minori sprinted back with everything he had, roaring at Minami Tsuyoshi:
"Get back on defense! What the hell are you spacing out for?!"
Minami turned around on legs that felt like they were filled with lead, his lungs burning with every breath.
His vision grew increasingly blurry, his mind completely filled by that kind, familiar figure.
Miyagi Ryota charged down the court with the ball before firing a sharp bounce pass to the left side.
Rukawa Kaede reached out and caught it, his chest heaving violently as he greedily sucked in oxygen.
His stamina bar was completely empty. His Zone state had been forcibly shut down, and now he was relying solely on the sheer stubbornness in his bones to keep himself going.
His left eye was buried beneath thick layers of gauze, leaving him with an enormous blind spot.
Itakura Daijiro spread his arms and planted himself firmly in front of him.
"Don't even think about getting past me!"
Rukawa didn't even slow down.
He lowered his center of gravity, drove his right foot hard into the floor, and switched the ball between his hands beneath his hips at the absolute limit, squeezing past Itakura's defense by force.
Iwata Mitsuaki came charging over from the paint for a vicious help defense, his body forming a wall in midair.
Rukawa rose fearlessly into the challenge, his body folding into an exaggerated arc in the air.
The two collided violently, the impact of muscle against muscle producing a dull, teeth-grinding thud.
Rukawa completely lost his balance, but at the absolute limit of his descent, he gave the ball a delicate flick of his wrist.
The basketball kissed the backboard and dropped perfectly through the net!
"BEEP!"
The referee's whistle rang out.
"Basket counts! One free throw!"
The entire crowd sucked in a collective breath.
"He's playing with one eye and still forcing a 2+1?!"
"This kid has completely gone berserk!"
"That's just plain suicidal!"
Minami froze outside the three-point line, his entire body looking as though someone had drained his soul.
What… were we even fighting for?
The court before his eyes slowly twisted, and the floodgates of memory suddenly burst open.
Two years ago, inside the school's boardroom.
Minami and Kishimoto stood with their heads bowed deeply, their voices filled with pleading.
"Please, don't fire Coach Kitano!"
The school board member leaned back in his leather chair and coldly flipped through the team's records.
"What Toyotama needs is a Final Four finish at the national tournament, not some childish run-and-gun game."
Their pleas were ruthlessly crushed.
Then the new coach, Kanehira, took over.
Standing at center court with a tactics board in his hands, he said:
"Toyotama's offense is top-class, but your defense is absolutely atrocious."
Minami and Kishimoto stood among the team, their eyes cold enough to kill.
They didn't take the new coach seriously at all.
"We're going to use Coach Kitano's tactics to make the Final Four."
"We'll prove that Coach Kitano was right!"
"As long as we win, maybe he'll be able to come back."
Once that thought had taken root, it grew into an obsession that could no longer be torn out.
At the free-throw line, Rukawa took the basketball from the referee, bounced it twice, and drew a deep breath.
Then, astonishingly, he closed his only remaining right eye.
The entire arena fell silent.
Even the sound of breathing could be heard.
"Again?!"
Kiyota Nobunaga nearly jumped out of his seat in the stands.
Rukawa completely shut out the noise around him.
His knees bent slightly. His arms rose.
Relying solely on muscle memory and an almost supernatural feel for the ball, he guided the ball with his fingertips.
The basketball traced a beautiful arc through the air.
Swish.
Nothing but net!
Hiroshima Sports Arena erupted in a roar that nearly blew the roof off.
Sakuragi Hanamichi curled his lips and snorted.
"Damn fox, always showing off."
But the admiration in his eyes was impossible to hide.
Makino Juro leaned back in his chair, crushing the mint candy in his mouth as the corner of his lips curled upward.
"This kid's comprehension is seriously maxed out. He's finally figured out how to make full use of his feel for the game."
Minami stared fixedly at Rukawa as he retreated on defense.
That pure, unwavering figure was so dazzling that it made him jealous.
He lowered his head and looked at his trembling hands.
"Me, the so-called Ace Killer… not only failed to take out their ace…"
"But now I'm going to be killed by this damn guilt instead?"
His heart felt as though an invisible hand had clenched it tight, suffocating him.
Toyotama inbounded the ball from the baseline.
The basketball reached Minami's hands.
He gritted his teeth and charged forward with the ball.
Coach Kanehira stood on the sideline, both hands tightly clutching his clothes.
As he watched that staggering figure, his eyes turned completely red.
"I fucking hate you brats more than anything."
He screamed silently in his heart.
"But I still don't want you to lose!"
Minami had barely crossed half court when Rukawa locked onto him.
The two faced each other outside the three-point line, tension drawn tight like a bowstring.
Coach Kanehira closed his eyes as tears slammed onto the back of his hand.
"Because all you ever wanted… was to fight your hearts out just to bring Coach Kitano back…"
Minami's eyes were bloodshot.
He lowered his shoulder and forced his way through Rukawa's defense.
"Get the hell out of my way!"
He gathered the ball and launched himself toward the basket, throwing caution completely to the wind.
Rukawa rose with him, one arm held high, sealing off every possible shooting angle.
In midair, time seemed to stretch.
Under the blinding glare of the overhead lights, Minami's vision wavered.
And in that brief moment of disorientation, he found himself back in that summer.
The first time he met Coach Kitano.
The kind old man had held an old basketball in his hands and looked at him with a warm smile.
"Minami, do you like basketball?"
Minami screamed inside his heart.
Yes!
I loved basketball that much!
So what the hell am I doing?!
The next second...
Minami collided violently with Rukawa in midair, the tremendous rebound force sending him tumbling backward.
He completely lost his balance.
Head first, his body crashed toward the floor.
"THUD!"
The dull impact made everyone's scalp prickle.
Minami's head slammed hard against the wooden floor.
Blood poured from the wound, streaming down his forehead and into his eyes.
The world before him was completely dyed crimson.
"Minami!"
The Toyotama players cried out in terror as Kishimoto came charging over like a madman.
Minami lay in a pool of blood, the noise of the outside world fading completely away.
His body felt strangely light.
His thoughts drifted somewhere far, far away.
At first, I was only pretending.
I thought waving my elbow around would be enough to scare them off. I never actually intended to hurt anyone.
That was the first time I attacked someone head-on.
That Shoyo ace was tough.
He wasn't afraid of any threat. He faced that filthy elbow head-on.
It was precisely because their ace was taken out that we won.
Minami closed his eyes, the corners of his mouth pulling into a bitter smile.
After that, I somehow began justifying that kind of despicable behavior in my heart.
I convinced myself that as long as we could win, anything was acceptable.
Blood stained the floor, but it also seemed to wash against the countless wounds in his soul.
From that day on, I carried a disgusting nickname on my back.
Ace Killer.
Minami felt his eyelids growing heavier and heavier.
Maybe Coach Kitano had heard about it long ago.
Maybe… he would be completely disappointed in me.
…
A dull pain throbbed at the back of his head.
The pungent smell of disinfectant filled his nose.
Minami struggled to open his eyes, his vision slowly coming into focus.
A pair of calloused hands rested against his forehead, while white medical gauze was wrapped around his head in layer after layer.
"Idiot."
An old yet gentle voice came from above him.
"The other player had already established his position. You still charged straight into him. Of course the referee was going to call an offensive foul."
Minami's eyes suddenly widened, and his breath caught in his throat.
A kind, familiar face appeared before him.
Graying hair.
Those familiar wrinkles.
It was the person he had dreamed of seeing more than anyone else.
Coach Kitano.
Several little boys in short-sleeved shirts peeked out from behind Kitano.
"Coach, is he really okay? He lost so much blood."
A chubby little boy tugged on Kitano's clothes, his face full of worry.
Kitano turned around and deliberately put on a stern expression.
"What are you boys doing here watching the commotion? Hurry back to the stands."
The children shrank their necks.
"But it's halftime."
"Halftime is only one minute. Get back to your seats quickly, or you'll miss the exciting part of the game!"
The children giggled and ran off.
Kitano turned back and smiled as he pointed toward their retreating figures.
"I teach elementary school kids how to play basketball now."
"I usually brag to them, telling them that I was the one who coached Toyotama all the way to representing Osaka."
"They kept pestering me, saying they wanted to come watch the game, so I brought them to Hiroshima."
Kitano's eyes settled on Minami's face.
There wasn't the slightest trace of blame in them.
"But you know, while watching the game, the kids kept frowning."
Those words struck Minami in the chest like a sledgehammer.
He turned his head.
Nearby, Coach Kanehira kept his head lowered, both fists clenched tightly against the seams of his pants.
He didn't say a word.
Minami's eyes began to sting.
Kitano stood up and brushed the dust from his pants, preparing to leave.
"Co… Coach Kitano!"
Minami suddenly sat upright, only to suck in a sharp breath as the movement pulled at his wound.
He stared desperately at that departing figure.
"At your elementary school… do you still teach them to play fast and hard?"
Kitano stopped.
He turned around and smiled.
It was the same pure smile he had worn two years ago.
"Still the same. Eighty percent offense, twenty percent defense."
"It can't exactly be called professional-level basketball, but they seem to be having a lot of fun."
Having a lot of fun.
Those words replayed endlessly in Minami's mind, like a bolt of lightning tearing through layer upon layer of fog.
He lowered his head and stared at his hands.
These hands had once hurt others for the sake of victory.
Yet somewhere along the way, he had forgotten that basketball was supposed to bring happiness.
"Happy basketball…"
Minami murmured.
Tears burst from his eyes.
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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