The sun gradually sank below the horizon.
Night fell over Hiroshima.
The first day of the tournament finally came to an end beneath the sweltering evening sky.
Fifty-nine high schools had arrived here with dreams and expectations.
After just one brutal day, twenty-seven teams had already seen their dreams shattered and packed their bags for home.
This was the National Tournament.
There was no sympathy. No mercy.
Only the most primitive law of survival: the strong devour the weak.
And tomorrow, this gigantic meat grinder would start turning once again.
What Shohoku High would have to face was the most terrifying monster in this entire arena of slaughter.
...
"Buuurp"
A thunderous belch exploded through the hotel room.
Sakuragi Hanamichi lay sprawled across the tatami without a shred of dignity, his belly stretched round and full.
Empty food containers were piled across the table like a small mountain.
Not even a scrap of the oversized Hiroshima-style okonomiyaki remained.
The air conditioner blew cold air throughout the room, finally suppressing some of the heat and excitement left over from their victorious first-round game.
"Wahahaha!"
Sakuragi suddenly sprang to his feet like a carp leaping from water and shot toward the wall like a bottle rocket.
A wrinkled fax sheet had been crookedly taped to the wall.
Written across it in thick marker were several large characters:
Congratulations on Your Victory!
The signature at the bottom belonged to Aida Hikoichi of Ryonan.
Miyagi Ryota and Mitsui Hisashi immediately crowded around.
The three men who were usually the quickest to get carried away threw their arms around each other, grinning so widely that their back teeth were showing.
They looked like they had just won the lottery.
"Read that carefully!"
"Let's see if those so-called basketball experts still dare call us a C-rank team!"
Sakuragi planted his hands on his hips, his chin practically pointing at the ceiling.
"We just crushed that A-rank Toyotama into the floor!"
He began counting on his fingers.
"According to this genius's ranking conversion system, we're at least an AA-rank powerhouse now!"
"Those blind reporters are going to have to line up tomorrow and apologize to us on their knees."
Miyagi stroked his chin and nodded repeatedly.
"So that means…"
"We're basically fifty-fifty with that Three Kings team now!"
Sakuragi's eyes lit up with excitement.
"It's Sannoh High, idiot."
"You can't even remember the name of our opponent. At least look at the bracket once."
Mitsui Hisashi rolled his eyes and smacked Sakuragi across his red-haired head.
"Who cares if they're Three Kings or Sannoh!"
Sakuragi rubbed his head and shouted, "As long as this genius takes the court, I'll send every last one of them home to plant rice!"
"THUD!"
A fist the size of a cooking pot came crashing down, physically silencing Sakuragi's arrogant declaration.
Akagi Takenori stood behind the three of them with a dark expression, towering like an iron-clad fortress.
"You bunch of idiots! You've only won one game and you're already getting carried away?"
"Tomorrow is the real battle!"
Sakuragi crouched on the floor, rubbing the numerous bumps on his head. Even while grimacing in pain, he still refused to back down.
"Quit pretending, Gorilla!"
"When we were eating barbecue and watching the replay, I distinctly remember someone grinning so hard his mouth almost reached the back of his head!"
"You… You're talking nonsense!"
Akagi's dark face instantly turned bright red.
He waved his fist around awkwardly in an attempt to hide his embarrassment.
"I was thinking about tomorrow's tactics!"
In the corner, Makino Juro leaned against the windowsill, chewing on a mint.
Watching these clowns fool around, he couldn't help but smile inwardly.
These guys really do have a stable mentality.
Meanwhile, Rukawa Kaede sat against the wall with his headphones on, pretending to sleep and completely immune to the commotion around him.
"Riiing!"
The landline beside the bed suddenly rang.
Yasuda, who was closest, hurriedly picked up the receiver.
"Hello, this is the Shohoku High basketball team… Huh? One moment, please!"
Yasuda covered the receiver and looked somewhat flustered.
"Captain, it's for you!"
Akagi frowned and took the phone.
"This is Akagi."
A steady male voice came from the other end.
"This is Karasawa from Fukuzawa University."
"Co… Coach Karasawa?!"
Akagi's eyes widened like bells.
His back straightened instantly, and his voice cracked from sheer surprise.
The moment those four words were spoken, it was as if someone had pressed the pause button on the entire room.
Sakuragi and the others, who had been bickering moments ago, immediately shut their mouths and turned toward him.
"Fukuzawa University?"
Mitsui lowered his voice, his face filled with disbelief.
"The powerhouse that dominates college basketball?"
"Are they trying to recruit you? Damn, Captain, you're impressive!"
Miyagi frantically raised his eyebrows at Akagi.
On the other end of the line, Coach Karasawa's voice carried a hint of praise.
"Congratulations on your first-round victory."
"I watched your game against Toyotama today. You showed a lot of fight."
"Thank you for watching."
Akagi unconsciously lowered his breathing, his tone exceedingly respectful.
"However, Akagi…"
"The real test is tomorrow."
Karasawa's tone suddenly changed.
Even through the receiver, Akagi could feel the weight behind those words.
Akagi's grip on the phone tightened, veins bulging across the back of his hand.
"If you want to prove yourself on the national stage, tomorrow will be the best test you could ask for."
Karasawa's voice was deep and firm.
"Sannoh High… is a very formidable team."
The call ended.
Silence filled the room.
It was so quiet that they could probably hear a pin drop.
"That serious…"
Kogure Kiminobu swallowed with difficulty.
"Even the coach of Fukuzawa University takes Sannoh this seriously…"
...
At the same time, in a luxurious hotel somewhere in downtown Hiroshima.
Heavy blackout curtains were drawn tightly shut, leaving the room completely dark.
The cold blue glow from a large television screen illuminated the faces of more than a dozen tall, close-cropped boys.
The atmosphere was so oppressive that it was difficult to breathe.
This was none other than the reigning king of high school basketball...
Sannoh High.
Head Coach Domoto Goro stood beside the screen.
"First, study the opponent you'll be responsible for tomorrow."
"Figure out what they're good at and what they're afraid of."
"Get a feel for their offensive habits and their temperaments."
"Once you've replayed the game in your heads, we'll work out specific countermeasures."
Domoto pressed the play button.
The screen immediately displayed footage of Shohoku's game against Toyotama.
"Sawakita."
Domoto's gaze swept toward the first row, where a boy was currently yawning.
"Yeah?"
Sawakita Eiji rested his chin on his hand and answered lazily.
"Besides No. 11, keep a close eye on No. 16 as well."
"Those two are the biggest variables we'll have to deal with tomorrow."
Only then did Sawakita lift his eyes.
He stared at the figure on the screen, whose playing style was so outrageously aggressive that it practically radiated arrogance.
The corners of his mouth curled into a smile.
"Don't worry, Coach."
Domoto said nothing.
He simply pressed the pause button.
"Let's begin the analysis."
Domoto Goro stepped out into the hallway.
Several media members wearing press badges had already been waiting impatiently.
The veteran reporter leading them hurried forward with a flattering smile.
"As expected of Coach Domoto. Even against a C-rank team, you're taking the game this seriously."
The reporter's pen flew across his notebook.
"With this kind of attitude toward never underestimating an opponent, it looks like the championship is still Sannoh's to lose this year."
Domoto Goro stopped.
Facing the cameras, he didn't even blink.
"I wouldn't call it caution."
His tone remained flat.
"Sannoh is certainly strong. But at the end of the day, the players are still high school students. Their mentality isn't always stable, and anything can happen."
He adjusted the cuff of his suit, radiating absolute rationality.
"In a single-elimination tournament, there is no room for mistakes."
"Every game demands our full effort. If you'll excuse me."
Watching Domoto's back disappear down the hallway, the reporter glanced at his recorder and couldn't help but sigh in admiration.
"Now that is a true king."
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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