"Damn fox!"
"Who the hell are you calling an idiot?!" Sakuragi Hanamichi exploded in rage.
"You were the one who hit the hardest in that fight!" Miyagi Ryota shot back. "I saw you swinging a mop at people!"
"Yeah! Acting all cool for what?!" Mitsui Hisashi joined in.
Rukawa Kaede slowly opened his eyes, his dead-fish gaze sweeping lazily over the three of them.
"Three complete idiots."
"YOU BASTARD!!"
The three of them were just about to gang up on him—
Then suddenly, as if rembering sothing, they all froze mid-motion.
If we're talking about… who fights the dirtiest…
The four of them exchanged a look, then—almost in perfect sync—turned their gaze past the chairs toward the far corner of the bench.
There was no one sitting there.
Instead…
A military-green outdoor sleeping bag lay sprawled across the floor like a giant caterpillar.
The zipper was pulled all the way up, revealing only a tuft of black hair.
"...Hoo… hoo…"
Steady, rhythmic breathing echoed from inside.
The sleeping bag even rose and fell slightly with each breath.
Next to it stood a crooked little sign that read:
[Injured Personnel Resting]
[Do Not Feed. Burn Paper if Urgent]
"..."
Sakuragi, Rukawa, Miyagi, and Mitsui all twitched at the sa ti.
"That guy… is the real culprit, isn't he?!"
"He's the one who one-shotted that monster Tetsuo that day!" Miyagi gritted his teeth.
"And more importantly—"
"Why are we stuck on the bench while this guy gets to bring a sleeping bag and nap?!"
"This is discrimination! This is shady as hell!"
Sakuragi pointed at the sleeping bag, shouting in indignation.
"So damn noisy…"
A muffled, slightly hoarse voice ca from inside the bag.
"Got any sense of public decency?"
"I'm an international student—I'm dealing with jet lag."
"Jet lag my ass!!"
"You've been here how long already?!" Mitsui snapped.
"That's psychological jet lag."
"And besides… against opponents like this, I shouldn't even need to play."
"Might as well get so more rest."
A hand slipped out of the sleeping bag, accurately groped for a can of iced cola beside it—
Click.
Opened it—and retreated back inside.
"And stop blaming everything on . That was self-defense."
"And I'm injured. Deeply traumatized, emotionally."
"WHERE ARE YOU EVEN INJURED?! You didn't lose a single hair!!" the four of them roared in unison.
SMACK!
A giant paper fan descended from the heavens, slamming hard onto the wriggling sleeping bag—
Then, in lightning-fast succession, smacked Sakuragi, Miyagi, and Mitsui each on the head.
"Shut up, all of you!"
"It's a ga right now! You problem children—can you show a little focus?!"
Ayako stood with her hands on her hips, brows raised, radiating pure authority.
"Boss lady… that hurt…" Sakuragi rubbed the lump on his head.
"I'm your senior, you know…" Mitsui muttered under his breath.
"Even when Ayako hits people, she's still so beautiful…" Miyagi said dreamily, clutching his head.
Ayako ignored the idiots.
She pointed at the scoreboard, her tone turning serious.
"Enough. Look at the score."
The four followed her finger.
The bright red electronic scoreboard was almost blinding.
Shohoku 4 : 16 Miuradai
"What?!"
"What the hell is the gorilla doing?! Losing to a trash team by this much?!" Sakuragi's eyes went wide.
On the court.
Miuradai's captain, Murasa Kengo, a burly man with a mohawk, had just bulldozed past the weaker Yasuda using sheer strength and scored an easy layup.
"Nice one, Captain Murasa!"
"Crush Shohoku!"
Cheers erupted from Miuradai's supporters.
After landing, Murasa didn't rush back on defense.
Instead, he deliberately walked past Akagi Takenori, a sneer curling at his lips.
"Hey, Akagi."
"Don't think that just because you beat Ryonan in a practice match, you can compare us to a team like them," he said loudly.
Akagi wiped the sweat from his face, his eyes turning cold.
"What did you say?"
"I said… a team that relies on luck like yours doesn't deserve to be our opponent."
Murasa hooked a thumb at himself.
"Our goal this year is to defeat Kainan."
"You? You're just stepping stones."
His voice wasn't particularly loud—but from the stands, it carried perfectly.
"YOU BASTARD!"
A roar exploded from the railing like thunder.
Uozumi Jun shot to his feet, his massive fra startling Koshino beside him so badly he nearly dropped his notebook.
"What the hell did he just say?!"
"What do you an 'a team like Ryonan'?!"
Gripping the railing so hard his knuckles turned white, Uozumi bellowed toward the court:
"Akagi! What the hell are you doing?!"
"Stop slacking off! You can't even handle trash like that?!"
Akagi glanced up at the furious Uozumi—and rolled his eyes.
"Shut up."
But even as he said that, sothing in his gaze changed.
It was the look of a beast that had just been provoked.
"Offense!"
Akagi growled, taking the pass from Yasuda.
If the periter won't open up,
If his teammates are being suppressed—
Then he would smash through everything himself!
"Double-team him!" Murasa shouted.
Three Miuradai players instantly collapsed inward, forming a wall around Akagi.
"Too naive!"
Akagi exploded with power.
Muscles bulged beneath his skin as he forcibly broke through two defenders and leapt into the air!
"Not a chance!"
A vicious glint flashed in Murasa's eyes.
He didn't go for the ball.
Instead, he subtly swung his arm—
His elbow viciously aiming straight at Akagi's face.
This wasn't basketball.
This was an attempt to cripple him.
THUD!
A dull impact echoed.
Akagi lost balance midair and crashed heavily onto the floor.
The ball bounced off the rim.
FWEET!
"Defensive foul!"
"Basket no good—two free throws!"
The referee's whistle rang out.
But the entire arena fell silent.
Akagi lay on the floor, one hand covering his face.
Not injured—but definitely shaken.
"GORILLA!!"
Sakuragi was the first to rush to the sideline, his eyes instantly turning red.
The previously rowdy Shohoku bench fell into an icy silence.
Rukawa opened his eyes—cold light flickering within.
Miyagi clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into his palms.
Mitsui gritted his teeth, his gaze turning dangerous.
And in the corner—
That tightly sealed sleeping bag suddenly went—
Zrrrip.
The zipper was yanked all the way open.
Makino Juro sat up.
He glanced at Murasa—still arguing with the referee, insisting "I didn't an it"—then at Akagi.
Expressionless, Makino Juro stretched lazily. His joints cracked loudly.
"Ah… what a pain."
He stood up, kicked off his slippers, and bent down to lace up his basketball shoes.
His movents were unhurried—
Yet carried a suffocating pressure that made hearts tremble.
"Looks like…"
A faint chill flickered in his eyes.
"I won't be sleeping today after all."
END OF CHAPTER
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