There was no talk of academics.
No excuses about broadening his horizons.
His reason was as pure and transparent as crystal, without a single trace of impurity.
He wanted to become stronger.
He wanted to step onto basketball's highest stage and tear apart even stronger prey.
That was the entirety of Rukawa Kaede's logic.
Coach Anzai looked at the extraordinarily talented boy sitting before him.
For a fleeting moment, another tall yet defiant figure overlapped with him.
...Yazawa.
That child who had gone to a foreign country, battered and broken, and never looked back until the very end.
Coach Anzai gently tapped his fingers against his knee.
Slowly.
Heavily.
A long time passed.
So long that Rukawa almost thought his coach was considering where in America he should go.
At last, the ever-smiling old man slowly uttered three words.
They fell as heavily as a verdict.
"I object."
Rukawa's eyes widened.
For the first time, genuine shock appeared on his usually expressionless face.
He couldn't understand.
Why?
...
Meanwhile, at the arena...
The massacre continued.
Every change on the scoreboard was another stab into Aiwa Academy's already battered body.
Aiwa Academy 27 : 56 Meihou Technical High
"What the hell is going on?!"
"We're down by thirty?! This is the finals!"
"Without Moroboshi-senpai, are we really this useless?!"
"No... it's not that we're weak! It's Number 15... that monster is just insane!"
The Aiwa supporters in the stands clutched their heads in despair.
On the sidelines, Aiwa's coach had completely abandoned his composure.
His tie hung crooked around his neck as he roared himself hoarse.
"How many times do I have to tell you people?!"
"Protect the middle! Seal off the paint!"
"Don't let him get into the lane! Force him out!!"
On the opposite sideline...
Meihou's coach, an elderly man with graying hair, sat with one leg crossed over the other.
He looked less like a coach and more like someone leisurely watching an opera.
Hearing his opponent's desperate shouting, he let out a contemptuous chuckle.
"Even if they understand..."
"They still can't stop him."
His eyes burned with fanatic admiration as he watched the giant figure on the court.
Like a man admiring the Godzilla he had personally raised.
"That kid..."
"...is the very definition of unstoppable."
On the court.
Meihou's point guard stole the ball and immediately lobbed a towering pass into the paint.
"Here it comes!!"
Aiwa's coach screamed in despair.
"Triple-team him! Don't let him jump!!"
Three defenders!
A full three Aiwa players charged into the lane like madmen.
Their bodies formed a wall of flesh and bone, desperately trying to keep the beast outside.
"Now! Collapse on him!"
Facing the triple-team...
Meihou's old coach merely gave a calm, simple order.
"Crush them, Hiroshi."
The next instant—
The bald giant known as Hiroshi moved.
No fancy footwork.
No deceptive fakes.
He simply turned his back to the basket...
Ignored all three defenders...
And exploded upward from a standstill.
"ROAR!!"
A beastly growl echoed throughout the arena.
A massive shadow instantly swallowed the three Aiwa defenders.
This wasn't technique.
This wasn't finesse.
This was pure mass.
The absolute dominance of a creature standing at the very top of the food chain.
BOOM!!
CRAAASH!!!
Two thunderous explosions rang out almost simultaneously.
The first...
Was the dull impact of bodies colliding.
The three Aiwa defenders were sent flying like bowling pins after being smashed aside by the airborne black beast.
They crashed across the floor, sliding several meters, some clutching their chests in agony.
The second...
Was the basket itself crying out in pain.
Morishige Hiroshi hung from the rim with both hands, his entire body suspended in the air.
The backboard trembled violently.
The metal groaned and twisted with an ear-piercing screech, as though it would shatter at any second.
Violence.
Pure, unreasonable, breathtaking violence.
The entire arena fell silent.
Even breathing seemed to stop.
Even Maki Shinichi, a man who had witnessed countless grand stages, found his pupils shrinking to pinpoints.
Meihou's coach nodded in satisfaction and proudly introduced his prized treasure to the scorekeeper beside him.
"Morishige Hiroshi."
"One hundred ninety-nine centimeters."
"One hundred kilograms."
"This body..."
"...is a masterpiece sculpted by God solely for the purpose of destroying basketball hoops."
He paused.
The excitement in his eyes bordered on madness.
"And the most terrifying part..."
"...he's only a first-year."
"In the future, he won't merely be a treasure."
"He'll be a ruler."
...
In the stands.
"That guy..."
Sakuragi stared fixedly at the giant still hanging from the rim.
A primitive instinct sent chills crawling up his spine.
As someone blessed with monstrous athleticism himself...
For the first time, he sensed the presence of another beast his own age.
No...
Something even more ferocious.
"He's... a first-year too?"
Kiyota Nobunaga stood dumbfounded.
His usual arrogance was extinguished as though someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over his head.
"You're kidding..."
"That size... that strength..."
"That's a high school student?"
"That thing's a bear wearing a basketball jersey!"
Below them, Aiwa's coach watched his players lying sprawled across the floor and nearly exploded with rage.
Pointing furiously at Morishige, he shouted at the referee.
"Hey! Ref!"
"How much longer is he going to hang up there?!"
"That's taunting!"
"That's outright humiliation!!"
Tweet!!
The referee finally snapped back to reality.
He hurried over, face dark with irritation, and raised his hand.
"Technical foul!"
"White Number 15!"
Morishige released the rim.
THUD!
His landing shook the hardwood with a heavy boom.
It felt as though the entire gymnasium trembled.
He stared blankly at the referee.
His expression remained completely emotionless.
His empty eyes seemed genuinely unable to understand what he had done wrong.
Or perhaps...
Would an elephant ever care about the complaints of ants?
"There he goes again..."
Meihou's old coach sighed helplessly, covering his face.
Yet the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth refused to disappear.
"Hiroshi just can't break that bad habit."
"He loves hanging on the rim to admire the scenery."
Standing at the highest point of the stands, Makino Juro looked down upon the prehistoric monster below.
Behind his sunglasses, his eyes narrowed slightly.
"So..."
"Morishige Hiroshi."
"That level of destructive power..."
"...is worthy of being called a mini-boss."
His fingers lightly tapped the railing as even the System within his mind seemed to stir with anticipation.
In the original story...
This was the man who single-handedly brought an end to the era of the Star of Aichi, Moroboshi Dai.
A monster who rampaged through the National Tournament.
If Makino Juro himself—an outright cheat—didn't exist...
Then Morishige's physical gifts were practically a built-in cheat code within the Slam Dunk world.
"Hey, Sakuragi."
Juro suddenly turned toward him.
"What?"
"Got weak in the knees?"
Sakuragi snapped out of his daze and immediately puffed out his chest.
"Hah?!"
"You think a guy who only knows how to use brute force can scare this genius?"
"Don't make me laugh!"
He pointed dramatically at Morishige below.
"Hanging on the rim?"
"I got tired of doing that ages ago!"
"He's nothing but a slow, oversized lump!"
"When we meet at the National Tournament..."
"I'll show him the true power of the King Kong's Little Brother!"
"I'll dunk right over his head!"
His words were as loud and arrogant as ever.
But Maki noticed something else.
The hand buried inside Sakuragi's pocket...
Had already clenched into a tight fist.
It was the unconscious reaction that only appeared when he encountered a truly formidable rival...
A mixture of excitement...
And vigilance.
END OF CHAPTER
The King Of Slacking Off - MrBehringer's Secret
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