Kawamoto Kazuki's description of a shooting guard with the traits of a swingman.
It was like a bolt of lightning cleaving through the fog in Hanamichi Sakuragi's mind.
The image of a potent scorer who could slash through defenses like a sharp blade.
And fire accurately from the perimeter.
Was seared deep into his mind.
A blazing fire rekindled in Sakuragi's eyes, filled with anticipation for the future and drive.
"Then let's hurry up and train! What do we start with? Driving or shooting?"
Sakuragi eagerly rubbed his hands together, as though he were about to become that all-powerful superstar scorer right then.
Kawamoto Kazuki shook his head, calmly cooling his overheated brain.
"Driving and gaining weight both take time and a solid foundation built through extensive work. You can't achieve them in a day or two."
"But shooting, especially finishing touch around the basket, has certain techniques that can help you get started and improve quickly."
"Today, we'll start with the most basic close-range shots."
He had Sakuragi stand at the edge of the paint, facing the basket, then handed him the ball.
"Shoot."
Sakuragi took the ball and instinctively assumed a somewhat awkward shooting stance.
He recalled how Kaede Rukawa and Akagi shot, trying to imitate them.
But his arms were stiff, his movements disjointed.
"Stop."
Kawamoto spoke up to stop him.
Sakuragi halted, puzzled.
Kawamoto walked up to him and said something that would have surprised anyone who had received traditional basketball training.
"Sakuragi, remember one thing. Fundamentally, there is no absolute standard shooting form in basketball."
"What?"
Sakuragi froze. This was completely different from what he had heard before about having standard, textbook form.
"The sole purpose of basketball is to put that ball into that basket in the most effective way."
Kawamoto pointed at the basket, his tone calm.
"What people call standard form is simply a relatively efficient and consistent way of generating force that most people have arrived at through practice."
"But it doesn't necessarily suit everyone."
He looked into Sakuragi's eyes and said earnestly, "What you need to find isn't the standard, but your own way."
"A way that feels the most comfortable, the most coordinated, lets you generate the most force, and ultimately puts the ball in the basket."
"As long as you feel that a particular shooting form lets force flow smoothly throughout your body, and you have enough confidence in the ball's arc and where it will land, then that form is right for you."
Those words lit up Sakuragi's eyes after all his struggles to get the hang of imitating others.
So he didn't have to be so constrained.
But Kawamoto immediately stressed the key point. "However, whatever form you use, there's one core principle you must grasp: controlling how much force you apply and developing muscle memory."
He picked up another basketball, explaining as he demonstrated. "On the court, you'll get chances to shoot from any position, with your body in any posture."
"So you have to practice thousands upon thousands of times until your body remembers how much force to use from different distances and angles, and how your wrist needs to flick the ball to send it toward the basket on the ideal trajectory."
He led Sakuragi to the closest spot beneath the basket. "Here, for example, with an open basket, you only need a gentle flick of your wrist, using your fingers to give the ball upward spin, and it'll obediently drop into the hoop."
"That feeling is your touch around the basket."
"Come on, try it. Don't worry about form. Just put the ball in however feels most natural to you."
Kawamoto stepped back, leaving room for Sakuragi.
Sakuragi took a deep breath, recalled Kawamoto's words, and abandoned the awkward stance he had deliberately copied.
Holding the ball in one hand, he drove upward with his legs while pushing his arm up.
At the highest point, he pushed the ball toward the basket with a somewhat stiff wrist.
"Bang!"
The ball struck the front rim and bounced back.
"Too much force."
Kawamoto immediately pointed it out. "You don't need that much force under the basket. Imagine you're just gently tossing the ball, not slamming it."
"Try again. Feel how your wrist applies force."
Sakuragi nodded and tried again.
This time, he used less force from his legs, relying more on his arm and wrist.
"The arc is too flat. It'll easily catch the front rim. You can release it a little higher and give the ball some upward force."
"Your arm was too stiff that time. The ball had no spin, so it wasn't stable."
"Watch your follow-through. Point your fingers toward the basket."
Every time Sakuragi shot, whether it went in or not, Kawamoto Kazuki immediately gave extremely precise, specific feedback.
Rather than vaguely saying his form or force was wrong, he pointed directly to the problem.
"Too much force..."
"The arc is too low..."
"You released too quickly..."
"Your wrist is too tense..."
And he immediately offered clear suggestions for correction.
"Soften your wrist a little more..."
"Extend your fingers after the release..."
"Feel how far your knees bend..."
This immediate, minutely precise guidance produced instant results.
Sakuragi didn't have to guess what he had done wrong. He only needed to make small adjustments on the next shot based on Kawamoto's pointers.
Like a dry sponge, he greedily absorbed this valuable advice.
After several attempts, Sakuragi shot again.
This time, the ball traced a much softer arc than before.
Although it rattled and bounced several times on the rim, it finally went in.
"It... it went in! Hahaha! This genius made the shot!"
Sakuragi froze for a moment, pumped his fist hard, then leaped up in wild delight.
Kawamoto Kazuki's face remained mostly expressionless.
But a nearly imperceptible hint of approval flashed in his eyes.
Still, he poured cold water on Sakuragi's excitement.
"That shot was mostly a fluke. The ball's trajectory was very unstable. Luck played a part in it going in."
He picked up the ball, walked over to Sakuragi, and demonstrated.
"Look. When you toss a shot from this close, the most important thing is to apply force that makes the ball spin backward."
He gently flicked the basketball with his fingers, demonstrating the spin.
"This backspin gives the basketball a higher arc as it travels through the air, making it easier to get the ball into the basket."
"If you just slam it straight at the hoop like you did earlier, your chances of making it are much lower."
Sakuragi carefully watched Kawamoto's seemingly casual yet deft wrist movement and nodded with only a partial understanding.
"Again. Focus on feeling how your wrist and fingers apply force to make the ball spin."
Under Kawamoto's efficient teaching cycle of [identify the problem]-[pinpoint it precisely]-[demonstrate the correction]-[try again].
Hanamichi Sakuragi's shooting touch around the basket improved at a visibly rapid pace.
He felt that Kawamoto was worlds apart from Takenori Akagi's broad-brush teaching method of [watch me, copy me, get yelled at if you're wrong].
Captain Akagi was very good, but his teaching focused more on discipline and hard practice.
Sometimes, it left a genius with such unconventional thinking as Sakuragi feeling constrained and frustrated.
Kawamoto Kazuki, however, was completely different. He was more like a guide who tailored his teaching to the student.
First, he broke the shackles of standard form, encouraging Sakuragi to find what suited him.
Then, on that foundation, he used his almost terrifying powers of observation and analysis to refine and improve things in minute detail.
This teaching method placed more emphasis on inspiration and understanding.
It was easier for Sakuragi to accept, and easier for him to gain a sense of accomplishment and the joy of improvement from it.
After a stretch of focused training, when Sakuragi attempted another set of ten close-range shots.
Although his shooting percentage was still low, he actually managed to make two or three with decent form.
And the makes no longer rattled their way in. A few were even clean bank shots or little swishes.
Kawamoto Kazuki looked at the sweat-drenched Sakuragi and nodded.
He looked up at the clock on the gym wall. Their training time was nearly up.
As he gathered the scattered basketballs, he told Sakuragi, "You have excellent physical gifts, but without hard work to hone it, talent will ultimately go to waste."
"That's all for today's close-range shooting practice."
"Remember this feeling, and make time every day to reinforce it."
Hanamichi Sakuragi nodded firmly, committing Kawamoto's words to memory.