Hanamichi Sakuragi's Hellish Training!

The next day, Shohoku Basketball Gym.

After the regular training ended, the players packed up in twos and threes as usual, getting ready to leave.

"Ah, I'm dead tired. Gorilla Captain ramped up the training again today," Ryota Miyagi complained as he wiped away his sweat.

"Probably because Shirakawa got under our skin yesterday." Kiminobu Kogure gave a wry smile. "Still, the team's atmosphere really does feel different."

Everyone subconsciously looked toward the two corners of the court.

In one corner, Kaede Rukawa had, for once, not gone straight home to sleep.

Instead, he silently stayed behind to practice his shooting alone. Every shot he took was perfectly textbook, yet his eyes held a trace of thoughtfulness and confusion that had never been there before.

The other corner presented an even stranger sight.

Shirakawa had moved over a chair and was lounging by the court with a bottle of soda in hand.

In front of him, Hanamichi Sakuragi was red-faced, practicing stationary dribbling in an incredibly awkward stance.

"Left hand! Switch to your left hand! Is your left hand just for decoration?"

"Get lower! Your center of gravity! How many times do I have to tell you? Your center of gravity should be like a cat's, not a bamboo pole's!"

"Your eyes! Don't look at the ball! Do you have a grudge against it? Why do you keep staring at it?"

Shira-

kawa sat with one leg crossed over the other, drinking soda as he barked orders at Sakuragi like a foreman.

And Hanamichi Sakuragi, the normally unruly troublemaker, now looked like an aggrieved little wife. He did not dare argue with Shirakawa's scolding and could only grit his teeth and clumsily carry out his orders.

Smack!

"The ball flew out of his hands again."

"Pick it up! Keep going!" Shirakawa's voice did not waver in the slightest.

Sakuragi silently ran over, retrieved the ball, and continued the dull, torturous drill.

Sweat had already soaked through his jersey, dripping from his red hair onto the floor and forming a small puddle.

His arms ached so badly that he could barely lift them, but whenever he saw that "devil" leisurely drinking soda beside him, all he could do was grit his teeth and endure.

"Hey, what are those two first-years doing?"

"No idea. Didn't Sakuragi have it out for Shirakawa yesterday? Why is he... so obedient today?"

"Look at Sakuragi. Isn't that way too miserable...?"

The players who had been about to leave all stopped, gathering around the court and pointing at the bizarre scene.

"Hmph, serves that red-haired monkey right! Let him keep acting so cocky!" Ryota Miyagi felt a surge of satisfaction at seeing Sakuragi suffer.

"Ayako, look. Shirakawa seems to have a real talent for coaching."

"Mm..." Ayako watched the scene on the court, her beautiful eyes gleaming.

She saw something deeper than the others did.

Although Shirakawa was harsh with his words, every instruction he gave precisely identified the most fundamental flaw in Sakuragi's movements.

And although Sakuragi was clumsy and constantly groaning in misery, his monstrous stamina and astonishing perseverance were on full display.

These two—one willing to teach, the other willing to take it.

A strange chemical reaction was taking shape between them.

"Lord Shirakawa..." Sakuragi felt as though he was about to collapse. Panting heavily, he cautiously asked, "I... can I take a break? Just five minutes!"

"A break?" Shirakawa raised an eyebrow. "Sure."

Sakuragi's face immediately lit up with wild joy, and he was just about to plop down on the floor.

"However," Shirakawa said leisurely, "if you rest for five minutes today, tomorrow's training will be doubled."

"..."

Sakuragi froze halfway down, and his expression looked even worse than crying.

Devil! You're a devil! Sakuragi screamed wildly inside, but all he could force out was a smile.

"N-No need, Lord Shirakawa! I think I can keep going for another two hours!"

With that, he started dribbling again—smack, smack, smack—even faster than before.

"Hahahahaha!"

The onlooking players could no longer hold it in and burst into uproarious laughter.

Even Kaede Rukawa, who always wore a cold expression, seemed to have the faintest upward curve at the corner of his lips.

Shirakawa found Sakuragi's appearance rather amusing as well.

[Ding! It has been detected that the host is guiding key character 'Hanamichi Sakuragi' in basic training, triggering the hidden mission: 'Genius Development Plan'!]

[Mission Phase One: Within three days, have Hanamichi Sakuragi master basic stationary dribbling with both hands and maintain his dribble without looking at the ball.]

[Mission Reward: 100 Miracle Points, 1 C-rank skill fragment: 'Misdirection'!]

Oh?

There were rewards for teaching Sakuragi basketball?

And it was even a fragment of Kuroko's skill!

Shirakawa's eyes immediately lit up.

Misdirection!

That was the core divine skill of Kuroko Tetsuya, the Phantom Sixth Man! It was only a fragment, but once he collected them all, he would be able to vanish on the court!

Now that was something worth having!

It seemed he would have to intensify his "training" of this red-haired monkey from now on.

A devilish smile appeared on Shirakawa's face again.

He stood and walked over to Sakuragi.

"Sakuragi."

"Huh? Yes! Lord Shirakawa!" Sakuragi's body tensed reflexively when he saw him approach.

Shirakawa took something out of his pocket and held it before Sakuragi.

It was a photograph.

A photograph of Haruko Akagi, smiling as brightly as a flower.

"Do you want her to see how cool you look?" Shirakawa's voice was full of temptation.

"Yes!" Sakuragi's eyes went wide instantly, and he nodded frantically like a pecking chicken, practically drooling.

"Then train properly!"

Shirakawa stuck the photograph on the wall opposite him.

"From now on, your eyes are only allowed to look at this photograph! Don't look at the ball! Don't look at the floor! Whenever you lose the ball, it means your love for Miss Haruko isn't steadfast enough!"

"Yes! For Miss Haruko!"

A blazing fire instantly ignited in Sakuragi's eyes. It was as if he had been injected with a stimulant, and his entire presence changed.

He stared fixedly at the photograph on the wall while the basketball in his hands bounced faster and steadier.

The onlookers were completely dumbfounded.

You could... train like that?