Minami Tsuyoshi clenched his teeth.
A trace of fear slowly spread through his heart.
He had always prided himself on being the "Ace Killer," but he had never encountered a monster like Makino Juro.
That gaze was colder than his own, more ruthless than his own.
The locker room door was pushed open, and Toyotama's coach walked in with a grim expression.
The laughter inside abruptly stopped, and the players quickly straightened up.
The coach walked to the tactics board and picked up a marker.
"Keep shutting down their center in the second half. Don't let him receive the ball easily."
He turned around, his eyes locking onto Minami.
"And watch Number 16, too. Don't recklessly go for steals."
Seeing Minami's pale face, the coach spoke sternly.
"Minami, stop using these kinds of tactics all the time."
Minami suddenly raised his head and looked toward Kishimoto and the others, his eyes icy cold.
"Use more dirty tricks in the second half. Get them angry. If that doesn't work, send them off the court."
He completely ignored the coach's warning.
The coach suddenly slammed the tactics board onto the floor.
The sharp crack of breaking plastic echoed throughout the room.
"Minami! This is the National Tournament!"
"You won't get far playing like this! You'll be disqualified outright!"
The coach roared, pointing angrily at Minami's face.
Kishimoto Minori stepped in front of Minami and shouted back.
"Coach, what do you know? We're going to win!"
"Toyotama basketball is all about speed and ruthlessness. That's our tradition!"
Kishimoto's voice was firm and unwavering.
The coach shook his head in disappointment.
Looking at this group of players who had already descended into madness, he let out a cold laugh.
"Delusional."
"All these years, your so-called speed and ruthlessness have only been enough to squeeze you into the top eight, haven't they?"
"Do you really think you can become national champions by injuring people?"
"The results were already proven back in Coach Kitano's era…"
"Shut up!"
Minami Tsuyoshi lunged forward like a furious beast, his eyes bloodshot.
Coach Kitano was his bottom line.
Minami grabbed the coach by the throat and glared at him viciously.
"I'll kill you! Don't you dare insult Coach Kitano!"
The coach's feet were lifted off the ground as Minami squeezed his throat, his face turning bluish purple.
Kishimoto Minori was horrified and immediately rushed over, desperately trying to pull Minami away.
"Minami! Let go! You've gone too far!"
Itakura Daijiro and Yajima Kyohei also rushed over and joined forces to drag Minami away.
The coach's knees gave out, and he collapsed heavily onto the floor.
Clutching his throat, he began coughing violently.
"What the hell are you doing, Minami?!"
The coach's face was flushed as he roared.
Minami gasped for breath, glaring at the coach as he shouted.
"Toyotama basketball is only Kitano's run-and-gun!"
"You're an outsider! You have no right to coach us!"
The atmosphere in the locker room had completely frozen.
Toyotama's team was already falling apart.
Kishimoto Minori stared at the coach kneeling on the floor and Minami, who had completely lost himself to madness.
For the first time, an unprecedented sense of confusion filled his heart.
Was this really the victory they had been pursuing?
Toyotama's locker room was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop.
The only sound was the coach's violent coughing as he lay on the floor, clutching his throat.
Minami expressionlessly released his grip and turned toward the metal locker in the corner.
Sweat dripped down along his jawline, but he could not even be bothered to wipe it away.
His gaze passed beyond the noisy hallway, as if drifting somewhere far away.
Coach Kitano…
You must be watching us from somewhere, right?
Minami clenched his fists so tightly that his fingernails dug into his palms without him noticing.
Only one obsessive thought remained in his mind.
Using Coach Kitano's tactics to seize victory.
That was the only justice.
Beside him, Kishimoto Minori shouted like a rabid dog that had completely lost its reason.
"That Number 16 is way too arrogant! We have to cripple him in the second half!"
Itakura Daijiro frantically echoed him from the side.
The entire Toyotama team had fallen into a sick, fanatical frenzy.
By comparison, the atmosphere in Shohoku's locker room was suffocatingly heavy.
Akagi Takenori sat with his head lowered on the bench, both hands gripping his knees.
Sakuragi Hanamichi leaned against the wall.
For once, he had put aside his usual boisterous attitude, his brows tightly furrowed as he stared at the door.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway.
The rusty metal door was suddenly pushed open.
Rukawa Kaede stood expressionlessly in the doorway.
The wound at the corner of his left eye had just been stitched.
The thick white gauze was soaked through with dark-red blood, swollen to the point that his original features were almost impossible to make out.
Ayako immediately covered her mouth as tears streamed down her face.
Akagi abruptly stood up.
Sakuragi Hanamichi strode forward.
His eyes openly examined the blood-soaked gauze.
His voice was unusually serious.
"Hey… it hurts, doesn't it?"
Rukawa could not be bothered to answer him and walked straight into the room.
His remaining right eye burned with an unyielding fighting spirit, locking directly onto Makino Juro.
Makino Juro was leaning against the equipment cabinet, idly tossing a roll of medical bandages into the air.
He did not even raise his eyelids.
"What? You're still planning to play?"
Akagi rushed over and shouted angrily.
Kogure and Miyagi also hurried forward and grabbed Rukawa by the arm, afraid he was about to gamble away his entire career.
Rukawa said nothing.
He stubbornly shook Kogure's hand off and continued staring fixedly at Makino Juro.
Makino Juro sighed.
He casually tossed the bandages onto the bench.
They landed with a dull thud.
"All of you, step back."
He straightened up and walked toward Rukawa.
One cold glance was enough to force back whatever Akagi had been about to say.
The two locked eyes.
A faint spark seemed to crackle through the air between them.
"Then…"
Makino Juro spoke calmly.
"Give me a few minutes."
He turned toward Coach Anzai.
"Coach, clear the room for me."
Coach Anzai pushed up his reflective glasses and nodded, signaling everyone to leave first.
Sakuragi walked to the doorway and stopped.
He looked back at Rukawa.
In the end, he said nothing.
The door closed.
Only the two of them remained in the locker room.
Makino Juro pulled over a chair and sat down, crossing one leg over the other as he mocked him.
"You have absolutely no sense of distance right now. You're worse than a blind man. Going onto the court would just make you easy prey."
The veins on the back of Rukawa's hand bulged.
His voice was hoarse, yet exceptionally firm.
"I can still score."
"But do you want revenge?"
Juro suddenly changed his tone, staring directly into Rukawa's one unharmed eye.
"Yes."
Rukawa answered without hesitation.
His voice was cold as ice.
"Then listen to me. Close your right eye."
"Become a pure blind monk."
Makino Juro lowered his voice and slammed the basketball against the wooden floor.
He began dribbling rapidly around Rukawa.
The friction of his shoes against the floor intertwined with the rhythmic sound of the ball.
"Where?"
Makino Juro asked.
Rukawa's brows furrowed.
"Front left."
Before he could finish speaking, the basketball slammed directly into his chest.
Makino Juro's voice was filled with merciless mockery.
"Directly left. Are your ears just decorations?"
The training session was extremely short.
But it was brutally intense.
Makino Juro constantly changed the rhythm of his dribbling, using the sharpest, most poisonous words he could think of to provoke Rukawa's nerves.
He forced Rukawa to abandon his dependence on vision completely and awaken the instincts of a beast within him.
The second half was about to begin.
Blinding white light spilled from the exit at the end of the players' tunnel.
The moment Shohoku emerged, the cheers of the entire arena instantly turned into shocked gasps.
Rukawa Kaede walked at the very back of the team, his left eye covered by blood-soaked gauze.
Streaks of dried blood still stained his white jersey.
"Is he crazy?"
"He's actually going back onto the court?"
Kiyota Nobunaga was so shocked that he immediately stood up from the stands.
Jin Soichiro adjusted his glasses, his expression grave.
"With an injury like that, he'll completely lose his sense of distance."
Coach Takato slowly closed his folding fan.
Maki Shinichi folded his arms across his chest, his deep gaze fixed firmly on Rukawa.
Everyone felt that Shohoku was trying to quench their thirst with poison.
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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