On the second day of summer vacation, the basketball gym of Shohoku High School was surrounded by construction fences and construction machinery.
When Takenori Akagi and Hisashi Mitsui saw the plans displayed outside the construction site.
The strength training area was expanded, a professional physiotherapy room was added, and the basketball court and lighting system were replaced with more professional equipment.
The entire Shohoku Basketball Team went crazy!
Are public schools really that generous?
Is it because they won first place in Kanagawa?
Damn it, practice!
Train like crazy!
We must dominate the entire country!
Anzai kept his achievements hidden, his eyes behind his glasses narrowing into slits with a smile.
Within the city of Heike, another expansion was also quietly underway.
At the end of a small commercial street not far from Shohoku, Kawamoto found an ideal shop.
It used to be a closed clothing store, 20 square meters, with a monthly rent of only 30,000 yen. The landlord couldn't wait to sign the contract.
Kyosuke Masaki and his team cleaned it up in one afternoon, bringing in two old tables, a few chairs, and a handwritten whiteboard.
This is the first stronghold of the Flash Wind Express.
Masaki's friend at the telephone exchange was incredibly efficient.
That afternoon, a brand new black rotary telephone was installed.
The number is Heike -37-XXXX, simple and easy to remember.
Kawamoto personally wrote the number at the top of the whiteboard with a marker, and then drew a striking horizontal line 0 below it with red tape.
Annie from Murasame worked overtime overnight, offered an internal price, and delivered 5,000 beautifully printed, thick flyers early the next morning.
The front displays the logo, slogan, and phone number; the back shows the service area and a suggested price list.
Murasame's hands trembled slightly as he held the flyer, which still smelled of ink.
Distribution began on the same day.
Nango, along with a dozen or so members of the biker gang, rode motorcycles and dropped flyers into the mailboxes of almost every single apartment in the Heike area, the mailrooms of office buildings, school bulletin boards, the shelves in front of convenience stores, and even the front desks of guesthouses by the beach.
Everyone thought it would take at least a few days for people to see the flyers and create demand before they would try it.
They were all wrong.
The phone rang twenty minutes after we left Nango.
The moment the bell rang, everyone who remained in the makeshift shop converted from a warehouse paused for a moment.
Kawamoto picked up the receiver. "This is Flash Wind Express. How can I help you?"
A middle-aged man's voice, almost on the verge of tears, came from the other end of the phone, his words flying like bullets. "You—you really deliver everything? So fast? Really so fast?"
"Yes, sir. What do you need delivered to? From and to where?"
"A document! A contract! Delivered from Asahicho 3-chome Hiratsuka City to the international departure hall of Yokohama International Airport! Now!"
Immediately! Right now!
The man's voice was shrill with anxiety. "The plane takes off in one hour and ten minutes! This is an overseas order contract worth 300 million yen! The client is waiting at the airport. Without this contract, the signing ceremony can't proceed, and I'll be fired!"
Kawamoto glanced at the simple wall clock.
8:20 a. m.
Even without traffic, it takes more than an hour to Hiratsuka to Yokohama Airport, plus the time needed to get into the airport and find someone.
"Sir, time is very tight, but we can try. The cost will be around 5,000 yen, depending on the distance and urgency. Is that acceptable to you?"
"Five thousand? Fifty thousand is fine! As long as it gets delivered before takeoff! Please!"
The man's voice was filled with the last glimmer of hope amidst despair.
Please provide the pickup address and recipient information. To save time, I hope you can wait for me on the street.
Kyosuke Masaki had already put on his helmet and mounted his modified Kawasaki Z2.
The side of the vehicle already has a yellow "Flash Wind Express Cyclone" logo affixed to it.
Instead of his special forces uniform, he wore a black motorcycle jacket with the same Flash Wind Express logo and phone number spray-painted in yellow on the back.
"Leave it to me."
Masaki nodded to Kawamoto and twisted the accelerator.
The Z2's engine let out a deep roar, and it shot off like an arrow, leaving a black afterimage in the street.
The fourth floor of a commercial and residential building in Asahi -Asahicho 3-chome Hiratsuka City.
Koji Matsushita, a section chief at a mid-sized trading company, was slumped in his office chair, his eyes fixed on the clock on the wall.
8:10 AM.
His heart was pounding, and his palms were covered in cold sweat.
The company president declared that the order, worth 300 million yen, was a do-or-die situation.
The client is an United States company that's doing business with us for the first time. Their representative is already waiting at the airport; the flight will depart for New York in an hour.
The crucial supplementary contract, which should have been sent out by a subordinate a few days ago, was still lying in his office drawer!
8:15 AM.
taxi?
At this point, getting from Heike to Yokohama Airport is a nightmare; any traffic jam on the way can ruin it.
Driving yourself?
That's even too late!
8:17 AM.
It's all over, it's all over!
He could almost see the president's furious face, and he could see himself being demoted, ridiculed by his colleagues, and his career ruined.
He clutched his hair in despair, his gaze drifting unconsciously across the table.
There, was a flyer that a blond-haired teenager had just left behind while trying to sell something.
" Flash Wind Express —the winds of Shonan aren't as fast as us—cross-city express delivery, guaranteed to arrive within an hour—"
He grasped at the last straw, his hands trembling as he dialed the number.
8:21 AM.
He rushed downstairs and anxiously looked around on the street.
Traffic was heavy, but there was not a single motorcycle in sight.
He felt incredibly stupid for believing such a street-smart guy.
One hour to the airport?
Are you kidding me!
Even professional courier services can't do this!
8:24 AM.
Just as he was about to give up and call the president to confess and resign, a deep, violent engine roar came from afar.
A sharp, red Kawasaki motorcycle, exuding an aura of cutting through the air, came to a precise stop in front of him with a perfect drift.
The rider took off his helmet, revealing a sharp-eyed face, the yellow whirlwind logo on his back particularly eye-catching in the setting sun.
"Mr. Matsushita? Documents."
Kyosuke Masaki didn't waste any words.
"Yes, it's me!"
Koji Matsushita practically lunged forward and shoved a thick file folder into Masaki's hands, along with five thousand yen.
"At the Starbucks entrance in the international departure hall of Yokohama Airport, there's a blond United States named David carrying a brown briefcase! It absolutely needs to be delivered before 9:20! Please!"
Masaki stuffed the money into his pocket, took the document bag and put it into the lined jacket in front of his chest, then zipped it up.
He nodded, put on his helmet, and twisted the throttle.
"I am Kyosuke Masaki!"
Leave this message.
"Boom!
The motorcycle sped out like a black beast, disappearing into the traffic with a few nimble turns.
Koji Matsushita stood there, watching the direction the motorcycle had disappeared in, his heart pounding in his chest.
He rushed back to his office and stared intently at the clock.
8:40 AM.
It takes at least one hour and ten minutes to drive from Heike to Yokohama Airport, even without traffic.
Enter the airport, park the car, and run to the international departure hall----
How could it possibly be in time!
8:50.
He was restless, frantically calculating all the possibilities, each one pointing to failure.
He regretted it; he regretted placing his hopes on this dubious errand runner.
He even began drafting his resignation letter.
9:00 AM.
The cell phone suddenly rang loudly!
It was the temporary Japan mobile phone number he left for his United States client, David!