Instead, his scheme had backfired. That damned number 9 again!
Tweet...!
The referee's whistle sounded louder than ever, with unmistakable anger.
"Watch your actions!" The referee pointed at Kengo Murasame on the floor. "If I see that one more time, you're out!"
Mitsui was dumbfounded. All he had done was take a shot-why had Xiao Bai gone crazy? Could that guy's mad cow disease actually be contagious?
But when he looked closely, the referee wasn't scolding Shirasawa. It was Kengo Murasame, who was lying on the floor.
Mitsui understood instantly, breaking into a cold sweat at the thought of what could have happened.
Shirasawa had saved him! Otherwise, his basketball career really might have "ended at its debut."
His face full of anger, Kengo Murasame nodded, accepting the call.
Shirasawa walked up to him and looked down at him.
"Next time," Shirasawa said calmly, his voice carrying a bone-chilling coldness, "I'll make sure you never stand up again."
That presence made Kengo Murasame's heart tremble. At that moment, he had no doubt that Shirasawa meant it!
He scrambled to his feet, but the numb ache down half his body made him stagger, nearly falling again.
Hisashi Mitsui gratefully put a hand on Shirasawa's shoulder.
"Thanks, Xiao Bai." He was still shaken. "If it weren't for you, I really don't dare think what would've happened."
Shirasawa smiled faintly.
"Consider it compensation for beating you up that day, my dear teammate."
The corner of Mitsui's mouth curled up.
"That's not enough," he teased. "Yohei's your friend, right? His share goes on your tab too, my dear teammate."
The two exchanged a smile. Some things didn't need to be said.
The bond between them had quietly grown a little closer.
"Oh... that Shirasawa really acted decisively. Quick reactions, too."
The familiar voice made Coach Moichi Taoka whip his head around.
Sure enough, it was Akira Sendoh.
He had arrived at some point and was now sitting leisurely behind them, watching the game with keen interest.
Moichi Taoka's brow furrowed deeper and deeper. He could no longer contain his anger.
"Sendoh! So you remembered to come back!" he shouted, pointing at Sendoh. "I'm punishing you! You're definitely getting punished!"
But Sendoh merely smiled amiably, looking utterly impervious to any scolding.
"Huh? Coach," he said unhurriedly, "I haven't left my seat this whole time..."
On the court, the referee decisively assessed Kengo Murasame a flagrant foul.
Mitsui's three-pointer counted, and Shohoku received an additional free throw, plus possession.
Murasame had already been substituted out in disgrace and was sitting on the bench, but Shirasawa's words kept circling through his head, leaving him shaken.
Hisashi Mitsui calmly sank the extra free throw.
Over those last two-plus minutes, Shohoku went completely wild, bringing the game to a climax.
In the stands, Shinichi Maki's gaze grew a little sharper.
He had watched ten or so minutes of the second half, and Sendoh's earlier words had given him something new to consider.
Watching the court, the corners of his mouth lifted almost imperceptibly.
"Shohoku. Shirasawa," he murmured.
Shirasawa dribbled leisurely across half court.
Only nine seconds remained in the game.
There was enough time for Shohoku to run one more possession, but the entire team tacitly chose not to.
Crushing an opponent was one thing, but kicking them while they were down in these final moments wasn't much fun.
It was an unwritten rule on the basketball court. The side with victory secured would often forgo its final offensive possession, a gesture of the stronger side.
The ball had stopped, but the cheers filling the arena hadn't.
Shohoku had managed to turn this game into a home-court atmosphere.
The entire crowd was cheering for them, and the atmosphere set hearts surging.
Standing on the sideline, Kiminobu Kogure looked around amid the deafening shouts.
Even now, it all felt a little unreal.
Was this what it felt like for a dream to become reality?
Shohoku had finally earned recognition. We really had become the center of attention on the court!
The sentimental Kogure's eyes grew hotter and wetter.
Right now, he truly wanted to throw back his head and shout "Shohoku!" like Takenori Akagi.
But when the words reached his lips, he couldn't get them out.
Perhaps that was just his personality. Perhaps tears could better express how he felt at that moment.
But someone shouted it for him.
"Shohoku!! Shohoku!!"
Ayako cupped her hands around her mouth, leading the bench as she shouted excitedly toward the court.
Quite a few people had already shouted themselves hoarse.
Kogure smiled with gratification. Finally swept up in the atmosphere, he joined in the shouting.
"Shohoku!! We're the strongest!!"
At that moment, Kiminobu Kogure truly wanted to tell everyone that his dream had become reality!
The referee blew the final whistle.
Takenori Akagi clenched his fists and roared toward the ceiling, pouring out all the frustration that had built up over three years.
Shirasawa hurled the ball high into the air.
This assist was for the Shohoku Basketball Team, and for every fan in the arena!
117-54.
Shohoku demolished Miuradai by a massive 63-point margin, opening their prefectural tournament campaign with a victory!
In the stands, Moichi Taoka led the Ryonan players slowly toward the exit.
Jun Uozumi cast a fighting look at Takenori Akagi, who was still roaring on the court.
Akagi, he thought, I'll be waiting for you in the final four. Don't disappoint me.
Sendoh rose leisurely, catching a glimpse of a dark-green-clad figure from behind at the entrance to the passage.
He smiled faintly and murmured to himself, "Look forward to it, Maki."
About five minutes later, all the players from both sides returned to the court for the postgame greetings.
Kengo Murasame glanced guiltily at Shirasawa, then lowered his head to Hisashi Mitsui in front of him.
"P-please forgive me." His voice was dry. "I really wasn't thinking back then. Luckily... nothing happened."
Mitsui snorted coldly.
"You should be thankful this was on the court," he said icily. "Otherwise, there's no way you'd still be standing."
He paused, then added, "And remember what Shirasawa said. That will always apply to you."
Kengo Murasame's heart lurched.
He certainly wasn't a decent sort, but that only extended as far as Miuradai's territory.
When he actually encountered someone more "vicious" than himself, the difference in their presence was plain as day.
At that moment, he actually felt as though he had survived a disaster...
"I'll remember! Until next time!"
With that, Murasame hurried back into his team, wishing he could turn into thin air and disappear immediately.
With that, Shohoku's game against Miuradai officially came to a close.
Shirasawa played 25 minutes, putting up an all-around stat line of 18 points, 19 assists, 5 rebounds, 6 steals, and 2 blocks.
Hisashi Mitsui led all scorers with 35 points, but Shirasawa's outrageous, massive double-double completely overshadowed him.
Those 19 assists, in particular, tied the prefectural tournament's single-game assist record.
And that was merely what he had produced in half a game.
It inevitably made people wonder what terrifying numbers Shirasawa might produce if he played an entire game!
As Shohoku's undisputed biggest contributor to this victory, Shirasawa returned to the locker room surrounded by his excited teammates.
Only then did Sanae Nakagawa arrive at the gymnasium, having hurried over by car.
Today, Basketball Weekly had assigned her to another game: Tsukubu versus Katsura Technical.
As one of last year's top eight teams in the prefecture, Tsukubu naturally drew more attention, so the magazine had chosen that opening game as the focus of its coverage.
With some adjustments to their lineup, Tsukubu hadn't disappointed, easily securing their first victory.
Their newcomer, Koichiro Nango, had put on quite an eye-catching performance, adding plenty of highlights to the game.
As soon as that game ended, Sanae rushed straight over to Shohoku's venue, but she was still a step too late.
Sanae had originally wanted to cover Shohoku's game, but Shohoku had no impressive results to its name, and its opponent, Miuradai, had no star players either. The only draw was probably Basketball Weekly's previous report on their practice game against Ryonan. Interest in this game was therefore uncertain, and to play it safe, the magazine had ultimately sent Sanae to Tsukubu's game instead.
Sanae had no objections. After all, words alone proved nothing. She believed the magazine would naturally regret that decision once the opening game was over. But she had also made backup arrangements. According to the plan she and Shirasawa had agreed on earlier, the two would have to work together once the prefectural tournament began.
Shirasawa would deliver on the court, while Sanae handled publicity off it, finding ways to let more people know that Shohoku had a number 9 named Shirasawa and help him stand out amid this basketball craze. That was the first step of their plan.
To that end, Sanae had specifically contacted Eiichi Harada, a fairly well-known local photographer in Kanagawa, and asked him to take photos at Shohoku's game. Her instructions were very clear: make sure to capture plenty of Shohoku's highlights, especially those of their number 9, Shirasawa.
After hearing her out, Eiichi Harada gave an "I get it" smile, thinking that this famous, beautiful reporter apparently had a taste for athletic boys and liked collecting their photos. Sanae couldn't be bothered with what he thought, as long as the job got done.
So the first person Sanae sought out upon arriving at the gymnasium was Eiichi Harada. He took out his camera and clicked through several photos he had just taken, looking quite pleased. Sanae leaned over to look and nodded too.
One photo was particularly good: Shirasawa's buzzer-beating three-pointer before halftime. It captured Shirasawa rising for the shot, with Kazuo Araki sprawled on the floor in front of him. The scoreboard clock showed 1.1 seconds, and every other player on the court was watching the basketball in flight.
That shot had actually gone in afterward, making the story behind the photo even more remarkable. Without saying much, Sanae paid for the photos and asked for the originals to be deleted on the spot.
With everything settled, Eiichi Harada felt quite pleased. This had been a comfortable job: the client was easy on the eyes and generous with her money. Photographing forty minutes of basketball paid as much as a normal day's work, and he got to watch a game along the way. Where else could he find a deal like that?
"Miss Sanae, if you ever need anything else, feel free to contact me," Eiichi Harada said quickly.
Sanae smiled. "The photos are excellent. I'd like to have you photograph every Shohoku game from now on. If your schedule allows it, we can discuss the fee."