"Kawamoto..."
"I... what exactly are my weaknesses?"
That question had churned in his mind for several days and nights.
He had always been the Shohoku Basketball Team's undisputed ace and pillar.
Despite the team's poor record, deep down, he took immense pride in his own ability.
He had always believed that Shohoku's inability to win came down to his teammates being too weak to give him enough support.
He, Takenori Akagi, was at least a first-rate center in the prefecture!
Yet that one-sided showdown with Kawamoto Kazuki had shattered all his confidence.
The strength he took such pride in, his skills under the basket, and even his dignity as the team's cornerstone.
Before Kawamoto's terrifying, all-around ability, they had proved so utterly fragile.
Coach Anzai's words echoed in his ears.
He should be the target you strive to catch up to.
Perhaps this really was a chance to see himself clearly and rise from the ashes.
And to take that first step, he first had to confront the brutal reality.
Kawamoto Kazuki watched Akagi quietly, his deep eyes seemingly able to see straight into a person's heart.
He did not answer immediately, but asked instead, "Do you want the truth?"
Akagi nodded emphatically, his gaze firm. "Of course!"
He had already prepared himself to accept any criticism.
"The truth might not be pleasant to hear."
Kawamoto's voice remained steady.
There was no mockery, no pity, only a cold objectivity.
"After joining Shohoku, I found time to study footage and statistics from our team's prefectural tournament games over the past two years."
Kawamoto began his analysis, sounding like a calm scout evaluating a player.
"Captain Akagi, your weaknesses fall into three main areas."
"The narrowness of your skill set, the instability of your mental game, and the constraints of your talent ceiling."
He paused, then delivered a conclusion enough to make Akagi's heart stop:
"To put it bluntly, judging by the ability and potential you've shown so far, you're more like a blue-collar center with a relatively limited role than an all-around ace who can single-handedly change a game and lead his team to victory."
The words "blue-collar center" drove into Akagi's heart like an icy spike.
His eyes flew wide, disbelief written all over his face.
Over the years, the assessments he had heard most often were these.
"Shohoku is a one-man team built around Akagi."
"Akagi is great, but his teammates are terrible."
"Akagi is definitely one of Kanagawa's top centers!"
He had never imagined that, in someone else's eyes, he was merely a blue-collar center?
Seeing Akagi's emotions fluctuate violently, Kawamoto did not stop.
Instead, he continued his detailed analysis in the same matter-of-fact tone. "Surprised? Then let's get specific."
"First, your skills."
Kawamoto's gaze sharpened.
"You're 197 centimeters tall, and your weight and strength are pretty good by high school standards."
"But your movements are on the slow side, and your coordination and agility are obvious weaknesses."
"That limits the area you can cover defensively, and an agile center can practically crush you."
"On offense, your options are too limited."
"You rely heavily on post-ups under the basket and second-chance points, and you lack a consistent midrange or long-range shot."
"That confines your offensive range to the area around the paint."
"Once you're double-teamed or face a strong interior defender, your scoring efficiency drops sharply."
"Compare yourself to Shoyo's Toru Hanagata. He not only has polished skills under the basket, but also a reliable midrange jumper, and even some ability to drive facing the basket and facilitate the offense. He's a much greater offensive threat than you."
"Your ballhandling is another fatal weakness."
"Your dribbling fundamentals aren't solid, and your understanding of passing exchanges is extremely poor."
"You can't contribute from anywhere on the court the way some elite big men can."
"That severely reduces the team's tactical flexibility."
"Your free-throw percentage also fluctuates considerably, which is fatal in crucial moments."
"Of course, these are all technical details that can be improved through targeted training."
Akagi's face went from red to white, and his fists clenched involuntarily.
He did not want to admit it...
But every point Kawamoto raised was a flaw he usually refused to face.
Toru Hanagata...
That graceful opponent did indeed possess the well-rounded skills he envied.
"But more fatal than your technical weaknesses are your psychological problems."
Kawamoto shifted the conversation, going straight to the heart of the matter.
"I reviewed Shohoku's game footage from the past two years."
"I noticed a pattern. When things are going your way, you can perform fairly well."
"But once the team runs into adversity, falls behind, or you personally get stopped repeatedly on offense, your emotions fluctuate wildly."
"You easily become impatient, start doubting yourself, and even spread your frustration to your teammates."
"Your body language turns negative, your defensive focus drops, and your offensive decisions become poor."
"Simply put, you lack the nerves to steady the team in adversity and turn the tide."
"For a team's spiritual leader, that's fatal!"
Those words completely shattered Akagi's last psychological defenses.
He opened his mouth, wanting to argue, only to find his throat dry and unable to produce a sound.
Because everything Kawamoto had said was true!
In the first round of last year's prefectural tournament.
After the opponents focused their defense on him and he failed on several consecutive possessions.
He had indeed lost his composure, ultimately leading to the team's crushing defeat...
Those scenes of failure he had deliberately forgotten now appeared clearly before his eyes.
Kawamoto's tone softened slightly, but his next words carried a deeper meaning.
"There's another crucial misconception in your thinking that I believe needs to change."
He looked at Akagi, a hint of guidance in his gaze.
"Although basketball has five conventional positions with their own responsibilities, a great player will never be bound by his position."
"Learning more skills and abilities from other positions is never a bad thing."
"For example, why can't a center practice facilitating and passing? Why can't he develop a midrange or long-range shot? Why can't he improve his movement speed and join fast breaks?"
"The richer your arsenal of skills, the greater your threat on the court, and your tactical value will grow exponentially. That goes far beyond one plus one equals two."
"Clinging to the traditional idea that a center should stay under the basket will become a ceiling on your growth."
Takenori Akagi fell completely silent.
He lowered his head, his huge body trembling slightly.
Every word Kawamoto Kazuki said stung him and left him humiliated.
But he could not argue.
Because every problem Kawamoto pointed out struck precisely at what he least wanted to face.
Crude skills, a fragile mentality, rigid thinking...
Those harsh assessments stood in stark contrast to the powerful version of himself he held in his mind.
Watching Akagi sink into profound shock and self-doubt, Kawamoto Kazuki said nothing more.
He simply stood quietly where he was, giving the proud captain time to digest those brutal truths.