Yōhei nodded.
Looking at Uozumi, who was still swaggering arrogantly in front of Akagi, completely unaware of the danger he was in—
his eyes were filled with pity.
"Finally got a chance to show off with a dunk, and instead he got served a brutal block like that… tsk tsk."
"If this were the old Hanamichi…"
In Yōhei's mind, a scene surfaced from their middle school days—
Sakuragi, with that blazing red hair, taking on ten delinquents alone and beating them senseless.
The man once known as the Nightmare of Wakou Middle School.
"…that big guy would already be on his way to the ICU."
The four of them exchanged glances, perfectly in sync. Then, cupping their hands around their mouths, they shouted toward the court in unison:
"HEY! YOU, THE MONKEY BOSS!"
"RUN!!"
"While that red-haired devil hasn't woken up yet!"
"Buy a plane ticket and flee the country—NOW!!"
…
The sudden outburst echoed through the quiet gym, absurd and almost surreal.
The entire audience froze.
Were these guys Shohoku's cheer squad… or anti-fans?
What the hell were they yelling?
Even Uozumi on the court was stunned, instinctively looking up.
At that exact moment.
The motionless Sakuragi Hanamichi, lying flat on the floor, suddenly twitched a finger.
Then...
A bone-chilling pressure radiated outward from that red head, spreading across the entire court.
Miyagi Ryota, who was crouched beside him, felt a sudden chill run down his spine and instinctively hopped backward.
Sakuragi slowly… mechanically… pushed himself up from the floor.
His movements were stiff, almost like a zombie from a horror film.
But the aura he emitted—
was ten thousand times more terrifying.
It was pure, unfiltered rage born from humiliation.
"…It hurts…"
"It hurts like hell…"
Head lowered, his face hidden in shadow, Sakuragi's voice squeezed out between clenched teeth.
Uozumi stared at him, his heart skipping a beat.
Is this guy even human?
After a hit like that… he could still stand up like nothing happened?
Sakuragi suddenly snapped his head up!
His eyes blazed with ferocious fire, locking directly onto Uozumi.
No tears. No fear.
Only the savage intent to tear the giant before him to pieces.
"You…!"
Sakuragi clenched his fists, joints cracking loudly.
"You damn MONKEY BOSS!!!"
"How dare you ruin my dunk!!!"
His roar thundered across the court, rattling Uozumi's eardrums.
The next second—Sakuragi moved.
But he didn't charge in to fight.
Instead.
Right before everyone's utterly stunned gazes, the red-haired boy sprinted toward…
the referee?
"Hey! Old man!"
Sakuragi grabbed the referee by the collar, spittle flying everywhere, his face more ferocious than a demon's.
"That last shot counted, right?!"
"I got that high—of course it counted, right?!"
"If you dare say it didn't, I'll—!"
The referee was so scared he could barely hold onto his whistle.
"F-foul… two free throws…"
"…Huh?!"
Sakuragi froze instantly, as if struck by lightning. His entire body turned to stone, the world behind him fading into grayscale.
"Free… throws?"
"That sissy stuff?"
"My dunk… my genius dunk…"
He released the referee, clutching his head as he wailed in despair:
"UNFORGIVABLE!!!"
For a moment, the entire arena fell silent again.
Then...
Laughter exploded like a bomb, threatening to blow the roof off.
"Hahahaha! What is wrong with this kid?!"
"He just got hit like a truck and the first thing he asks is whether the ball went in?!"
"This is Shohoku's secret weapon?! He's hilarious!"
The tense atmosphere shattered instantly.
Only Uozumi remained standing there, his face cycling between green and white.
Looking at Sakuragi—alive and kicking, now throwing a tantrum at the referee—
he suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness.
This guy… is a complete monster.
"Enough, idiot."
Akagi stepped forward and smacked the back of Sakuragi's head.
"Stop embarrassing yourself."
"If you're not dead, get to the free-throw line."
His voice was stern, but deep in his eyes flickered a trace of relief.
Good. The kid's tough.
Sakuragi clutched his head, about to explode—only to meet Akagi's steady, composed gaze.
That was the look of a captain.
And a look of trust.
"…Tch. You're so annoying, Gorilla."
Clicking his tongue, Sakuragi picked up the ball and walked toward the free-throw line.
As he passed Uozumi, he stopped.
Tilting his head slightly, he spoke in a low voice only the two of them could hear:
"Monkey Boss."
"You picked the wrong guy to mess with."
"From here on…"
"I'm turning your precious paint… into my personal playground."
Without another word, he walked to the free-throw line.
Leaving Uozumi standing there alone, a strange chill creeping into his fingertips.
…
On the bench.
Coach Anzai glanced at Makino Juro.
"Juro-kun."
"In the second half, Sendoh—"
Before he could finish, Juro cut him off:
"Don't worry. Leave it to me."
At the end of the Shohoku bench.
Megane, Kogure Kiminobu, gripped his towel so tightly his knuckles turned pale.
His glasses had fogged up, but he didn't wipe them.
His heart pounded wildly in his chest, thudding against his eardrums.
"…Hah… hah…"
He stared at that red-haired figure standing at the free-throw line, his vision blurring.
Memories of the past three years flooded his mind—
Akagi practicing alone in an empty gym.
Mitsui's heartbreaking departure.
And the countless times they fell in the first round of the prefectural tournament.
Just let us win once… Juro, Sakuragi, Rukawa…
Kogure roared silently in his heart, his voice trembling:
I'm already a third-year.
This is my last summer.
If we still can't make it to the Inter-High this year…
Akagi's dream… our youth… will truly come to an end.
We have to win.
…
On the court.
Sakuragi Hanamichi stood at the free-throw line.
It felt as if the entire world had been muted.
He looked down at the basketball in his hands.
The friction between his sweaty palms and the ball's rough surface felt vividly real.
"Whew—"
He took a deep breath, his chest expanding like a bellows.
That collision earlier still left a burning pain across his back.
But instead of weakening him, the pain made his nerves buzz with excitement.
"Tch. It's just a free throw."
A familiar arrogant grin spread across Sakuragi's face.
He remembered the "secret technique" Makino Juro had taught him.
Sure, the form was ugly.
That damn fox had mocked him for it countless times.
But as long as it worked—
as long as it could beat that Monkey Boss...
this genius fears nothing!
Under countless eyes...
Sakuragi moved.
But instead of raising the ball over his head like a normal player—
He bent his knees outward, dropped his hips, squatting low like a frog.
Both hands held the ball in front of his crotch...
as if he were carrying a basin of water.
Instantly—
The entire arena fell dead silent.
END OF CHAPTER
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