As usual, Kawamoto Kazuki took no part in the postgame review or chatter.
Perhaps there could be no review at all today.
He simply packed his things.
After giving Coach Anzai, Takenori Akagi, and the manager, Ayako, a slight nod,
he left the gym.
After afternoon classes ended,
Kawamoto Kazuki left school and began another day of part-time work.
To his surprise, Hanamichi Sakuragi did not go to team practice.
Instead, he faithfully honored their equivalent exchange agreement.
"You really don't have to. I already took your wages from yesterday, so we're even."
"No way! This genius keeps his word. I'm helping you work for at least a month!"
Kawamoto Kazuki said nothing more.
The two began rushing between school, the fish market, and the convenience store.
Both did extra practice early in the morning and trained at noon.
On the second day, the intense physical labor and severe lack of sleep had Sakuragi complaining nonstop.
He felt as though he was about to fall apart.
But surprisingly, after sticking with it for several days,
Sakuragi discovered that his body's endurance seemed to be improving at an astonishing rate.
The fatigue remained, but he recovered faster.
And he could clearly feel that his reserves of stamina were greater than before.
There was also a faint new sense of solid strength in his limbs.
The most obvious sign was that he could keep hauling goods at the fish market for longer.
His basketball skills improved along with his stamina.
Every morning, under Kawamoto's meticulous guidance, Sakuragi focused on practicing face-up floaters near the basket.
From his initial helpless fumbling, his movements gradually took shape, and his touch grew softer.
When standing still with absolutely no one guarding him, his floater shooting percentage miraculously settled at around fifty percent!
Of course, that only applied to stationary catch-and-shoot attempts.
Once he started moving, or faced contact, his shooting percentage became a sorry sight.
But even so, this clearly visible improvement
had already made Sakuragi ecstatic, and his enthusiasm for practice kept rising.
Perhaps the strength Kawamoto had displayed in that practice game had been too terrifying.
In the practices that followed, Takenori Akagi never again insisted that Kawamoto Kazuki join full-team practices or tactical drills.
He tacitly accepted Kawamoto going his own way.
And so, a strange phenomenon appeared in the Shohoku Basketball Club.
Kawamoto Kazuki, the monster rookie who had single-handedly crushed the entire upperclassmen's team in the practice game, was more like an invisible man most of the time.
He still frequently missed regular after-school practice, always citing personal reasons.
And when he occasionally appeared in the gym for practice at noon or early in the morning,
he hardly took part in any competitive drills.
He simply stayed silently in a corner by himself,
doing the most basic, most monotonous drills: stationary dribbling, spot shooting, defensive slides...
What baffled everyone was that the level he displayed then was worlds apart from that all-powerful demon god in the practice game!
Some solid fundamentals were still evident in his dribbling.
But his rhythm was slow, and an indescribable heaviness showed in his movements.
It was as though invisible shackles bound his hands and feet,
and his shooting accuracy fluctuated, nowhere near as consistently deadly as it had been during the game.
This enormous contrast left every player who had witnessed that practice game utterly confused.
"What's going on? Was he playing out of his mind that day?"
"Or were we all hallucinating?"
"The way he looks now... he's only a little better than Kogure, isn't he?"
Whispers circulated among the players, but no one dared approach him to ask.
Kawamoto's innate air of distance and his silence kept people at bay.
Only Hanamichi Sakuragi knew the truth.
He knew that behind those seemingly clumsy movements were the incredibly heavy iron-sand weights Kawamoto wore on his wrists and ankles.
He had experienced their weight firsthand.
Watching Kawamoto Ichimai train so hard under that load,
Sakuragi found it unbelievable, and his admiration for Kawamoto grew even more boundless.
Another eye-catching change took place in Hanamichi Sakuragi himself.
Akagi's Dao heart had yet to stabilize, and for the moment, he was in no mood to concern himself with Hanamichi Sakuragi.
With Kawamoto's tacit approval and occasional pointers, Sakuragi began practicing midrange shots.
He abandoned his original, extremely ugly chamber-pot-style shot.
Kawamoto had said that this kind of shot was only good for trying his luck at the free throw line with no interference whatsoever.
It was almost completely useless on offense.
To become a good scorer, he had to overcome that.
So Sakuragi switched to practicing a jump shot with a higher release point.
At first, his shooting was still laughably far off.
The ball often hit the top edge of the backboard or even flew out of bounds, drawing laughter from everyone.
But Sakuragi possessed a shameless persistence and an astonishing ability to learn physical movements.
He did not care about their mockery and simply kept jumping and shooting.
Gradually, the ball began to touch the rim, though most shots still bounced out.
Then, occasionally, the crisp swish of the ball dropping through the net would sound.
Every time he made a basket, Sakuragi let out an excited shout.
His shooting form still had a touch of awkward originality, but its fluidity and accuracy were indeed improving steadily.
This astonishing rate of progress gradually made even the players who had been waiting to laugh at him put aside their contempt.
Takenori Akagi saw it all.
He knew better than anyone that Sakuragi's unorthodox approach to practice,
without guidance from an expert, could easily lead him astray.
Yet the course of Sakuragi's improvement had an indescribable sense of soundness to it.
Especially that finishing floater near the basket-his touch was far too soft for a beginner.
He was almost certain.
Kawamoto Kazuki's guidance had to be behind it.
After noon practice ended that day, the players left the gym one after another.
Takenori Akagi watched the silent figure putting away basketballs alone in the corner.
He hesitated for a long time, then finally drew a deep breath and walked toward Kawamoto Kazuki with heavy steps.
Complicated feelings filled his heart.
There was awe of his strength...
There was his sense of responsibility as captain...
But more than anything, there was a desire to seek advice that he found difficult to voice.
Kawamoto Kazuki seemed to notice his approach and stopped what he was doing.
He turned and looked at him calmly.
Those deep eyes held neither a victor's arrogance nor the slightest ripple.
They were simply like a deep pool.
The gym was spacious and quiet.
Sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting long stretches of light and shadow across the floor.
The two equally tall boys, who represented Shohoku's peak strength in the past and present,
once again stood face-to-face as though matched up on the court.
This time, there was no tense contest.
Only silence after things had settled, and a conversation about to begin that might determine the future course of the Shohoku Basketball Club.
"Kawamoto, I... could I ask you a few questions?"
"About basketball."