"Those two bastards! Do they have any sense of team discipline?!" Moichi Taoka glared in fury. "Uozumi! Give them a proper lesson later!"
Jun Uozumi nodded calmly, then looked a little troubled. "But... what if they won't listen? You know what those two are like..."
Moichi Taoka stared at him and forced the words through clenched teeth. "What do you think those fists are for?!"
"You really ought to learn from Akagi on that front..."
In the gymnasium lobby.
Akira Sendoh was nestled comfortably on a sofa, sipping a drink.
An unwrapped magazine lay open in front of him.
Its cover read: "Those Things About Fishing"...
In fact, Sendoh had left the stands after Shirasawa displayed that offensive talent in the first half.
As far as he was concerned, the outcome was no longer in doubt.
All that remained was a one-sided show from Shohoku.
The only reason he hadn't simply left like Kaede Rukawa was Shirasawa.
He still wanted to see just how high this guy named Shirasawa's ceiling was.
He had only come out to buy a drink when he happened upon this newly arrived magazine.
He had started reading, and here he still was...
"You're an odd one, Sendoh. Skipping the game to come out here and read a magazine."
A low voice, with a weathered quality to it, suddenly interrupted Sendoh's thoughts.
Sendoh looked toward the voice.
Sure enough, that face showed even more years than the voice...
He smiled.
"Oh? If it isn't Kainan's Maki the Emperor. I didn't expect you to come watch a game too. Here for Shohoku?"
The man before Sendoh was none other than Kainan's renowned Shinichi Maki. The man who had brought the Kanagawa championship trophy back to Kainan for sixteen consecutive years was standing right here.
Shinichi Maki's dark green suit made him look even more composed, but no amount of sober attire could disguise his overly mature face. No one would likely have questioned it if someone said he was in his early thirties.
Yet he really was only a third-year high school student.
At Sendoh's words, Shinichi Maki looked as though he had heard a joke that wasn't particularly funny.
"Shohoku?" There was a hint of amusement in his voice. "One practice game against your Ryonan, and you've already grown attached?"
He paused, his voice steady but carrying unquestionable confidence.
"Sendoh, you should understand. We at Kainan have never set our sights on any one team. Ryonan is no exception."
Sendoh merely gave an indifferent smile.
"Still, Maki," he looked up, his tone relaxed, "the waters in Kanagawa will probably be much murkier this year than before. You'd be better off not speaking in absolutes."
With that, he glanced at the clock on the wall.
"Oh, we've talked a bit too long." Sendoh shut the magazine and stood up briskly. "The game must be nearly over. I'd better head back. You... take care of yourself, Maki."
Watching Sendoh turn and leave, Shinichi Maki gave a quiet snort.
"Are you saying that because of Shohoku?" he asked Sendoh's retreating back. "Or because of that new guy on your team, Kaede Rukawa?"
His gaze darkened slightly.
"Sendoh, perhaps you're the one who's overconfident."
Sendoh didn't look back. He simply waved a hand casually and disappeared into the passage leading to the stands.
Almost simultaneously, an enormous cheer erupted inside the gym.
Shinichi Maki frowned slightly, stepped forward, and followed him in.
Upon entering the court area, he looked straight at the scoreboard.
89-49.
Five minutes remained, and Shohoku led by a full forty points.
Shinichi Maki's expression froze for an instant.
He couldn't speak for other teams, but he knew Miuradai's strength. When Kainan faced them in the winter qualifiers, their final winning margin had only been about this much.
Even with a few third-year starters gone, Miuradai's strength shouldn't have declined this far.
He hadn't expected this previously obscure Shohoku team to be capable of this.
No wonder Sendoh had said those things.
Shinichi Maki narrowed his eyes, rested a hand on the railing, and looked onto the court. Confident as he was, he was never conceited. Kainan hadn't remained standing for so many years on appearances alone.
Naturally, his presence here today wasn't simply a matter of passing by.
The situation on the court had long since become one-sided.
The arrival of the big guy named Tetsuya Naito had caused only a small ripple. After Shirasawa mercilessly exposed his "one step, 550 steps" weakness, the entire Shohoku team quickly began treating him like thin air.
Shirasawa and Hisashi Mitsui took turns toying with him through changes of pace, leaving Naito like a bull enraged by a red cloth, full of strength but charging wildly everywhere.
The whole Shohoku team had become bullfighters, running him around in circles.
Only Hanamichi Sakuragi occasionally insisted on going head-to-head with him in a contest of strength. Brute against brute, Sakuragi still came up a little short in raw power.
However, the redhead picked up a few things through those repeated collisions, and his movements gradually became less stiff.
That left Coach Anzai quite pleased on the sidelines.
Akagi, Mitsui, and Miyagi had largely established their technical foundations; what they needed was fine polishing. Shirasawa's ability, meanwhile, was like a bottomless pit. Even Coach Anzai couldn't gauge its depths and could only wait for him to keep delivering surprises. All he could do was ensure Shirasawa stayed on the right path.
Only Hanamichi Sakuragi was a true uncut gem. To shape him personally and watch him gradually shine held extraordinary meaning for a coach.
Coach Anzai believed Sakuragi's growth would surely make him an important fighting force for Shohoku in the future. By the national tournament, he might be Shirasawa's most dependable helper.
On the court, no matter how Kengo Murasame shouted and raged, Miuradai's defense had become virtually nonexistent before Shohoku's tidal waves of offense.
An enormous gulf in strength separated the two teams.
Yet Kengo Murasame's gaze grew colder and more venomous.
The outcome had long since ceased to be in doubt.
The entire crowd cheered every flowing Shohoku attack. Before the game, Miuradai's performance in the winter qualifiers had led plenty of people to believe they would at least reach the prefecture's final sixteen this year, if not the final eight.
And the result? Shohoku had routed them.
What could look more like a story of rising from the ashes?
Shohoku, perennial bottom-dwellers, had completely overturned everyone's impression in just half a game today.
No one on Shohoku's bench had sat down from start to finish. The word "powerful" had been firmly etched into everyone's mind.
This was a Shohoku team unlike any before it.
On the court, Shirasawa delivered another pass. Like a scalpel, the basketball precisely sliced through the entire defense and reached Takenori Akagi's hands beneath the basket.
Akagi let out a thunderous roar and slammed the ball through the hoop with both hands!
The basket support hummed and shook under his grip, as though protesting the endless violent abuse.
In the second half, Shirasawa had scored only seven points.
Those seven points had come quickly: an and-one against Naito, followed by two full-court fast-break layups.
After an open three-pointer bounced off the rim, however, Shirasawa stopped attacking on his own.
He was experimenting too.
He wanted to see under what circumstances that "72" shooting ability was more reliable. When he completely beat his defender and shot in a comfortable rhythm, it felt considerably steadier.
Quick catch-and-shoot attempts like that one clearly left his touch feeling a little stiff.
Overall, though, his shooting touch still came and went.
What could he do about inconsistency? Pass a few more times.
With that thought, Shirasawa simply focused on commanding the court. He began tearing Miuradai's defense to pieces with precise pass after precise pass. Shohoku's overall offense immediately became more fluid.
The biggest beneficiaries were naturally Hisashi Mitsui and Takenori Akagi.
One wreaked havoc beneath the basket, scoring however he pleased; the other set up his artillery outside, scoring whenever he raised his hands. Occasionally, Shirasawa's passes also spoon-fed Hanamichi Sakuragi, letting him throw down a "genius-style" dunk.
It was just that the smug look on this guy's face after every dunk was so punchable that even Akagi couldn't stand it. He almost wanted Shirasawa to stop passing to him...
Shirasawa's assist total, meanwhile, kept shooting up.
That was another sizeable haul of experience points.
Only three minutes remained, and the gap had widened to forty-seven points. Shohoku still had possession.
This time, Coach Anzai didn't call another timeout to take out the starters.
He had already rested several starters for half the game at the beginning, so now was the perfect opportunity to let them play to their hearts' content. After all, this was the opening game. Rather than worry about ending on friendly terms, it was better to fully ignite the team's morale. It would also give the players more time to build their coordination on the court.
Back on the court, Shirasawa controlled the ball.
Opposite him, Tetsuya Naito was already panting heavily, clearly worn down by Shohoku's fast pace. Miuradai had completely given up on this supposed "secret weapon," and even Naito himself had lost heart. The bullfighters' victory had long since been certain.
One other person deserved mention: Miuradai's point guard, Kazuo Araki.
He had guarded Shirasawa for nearly twenty-five minutes and had been beaten off the dribble so often that he was questioning his life... Now he sat on the bench with lifeless eyes, nothing more than a spectator.
Shirasawa dribbled across half court and executed a well-coordinated handoff and crossing run with Hisashi Mitsui.
The two crossed paths, sending their respective defenders crashing firmly into each other. Without even looking, Shirasawa flicked his wrist and sent the ball behind him.
Mitsui caught the ball, wide open, and rose straight up for the shot!
At the very instant he jumped and released, however, Kengo Murasame suddenly charged in from the side.
It looked like a panicked defensive rotation, his upper body making exaggerated movements, but his foot slid precisely into the spot where Mitsui was about to land!
The moment the ball left his hands, a confident smile appeared on Mitsui's face. That's in.
He still had no idea danger was right upon him.
None of it, however, escaped Shirasawa's eyes.
Anger flared in Shirasawa's chest. If Mitsui landed squarely on that foot, his ankle would most likely be ruined! Kengo Murasame had been pulling little tricks all along, but most had remained within acceptable bounds-nothing more than dirty play. Shohoku's response had been equally simple and rough: pinch me, and I'd secretly pinch you back.
In the second half, Sakuragi had quietly pinched him several times, making him bare his teeth in pain. When the referee looked over, Sakuragi even copied his act, spreading both hands with an innocent expression.
But what Kengo Murasame was doing now crossed the line!
Shirasawa exploded into motion!
He lowered his shoulder and drove forward like a cannonball. With a bang, he slammed solidly into Kengo Murasame and sent him flying before Mitsui landed!
Kengo Murasame rolled once across the floor, half his body numb. Gritting his teeth, he glared viciously at Shirasawa.
He had indeed put his foot there deliberately. He was seething. After so much preparation, Shohoku had crushed them this badly in their very first game, and their supposed secret weapon had become a joke. They couldn't win, and the result couldn't be changed. His own high school basketball career was about to end with this regret.
And so, he had thought of revenge.
The target didn't have to be Mitsui. Anyone would do. Whatever happened, he had to make Shohoku suffer a little too!