"All right, let's head back." Jin stood up. "With the game going like this, there's no point watching any longer."
Aota nodded listlessly, stood up, and followed him out.
Before leaving, he looked back at Shirasawa with a serious gaze.
Though he kept refusing to admit it aloud, Nobunaga Aota now had his first opponent he absolutely had to defeat.
"Shirasawa."
The first half held no surprises. The gap between the two teams was laid bare by the score.
89-8!
Shohoku led by a full 81 points. It was practically a training game.
Kakuno had the final possession.
Kakuno's players had long since lost the will to play, and even their head coach said nothing. He was no longer angry, either. After all, getting placed in Group C against Shohoku was simply bad luck.
The guard dribbled across half court in a daze. Seeing time running out, he casually hurled the ball away without caring whether it would go in.
But Shirasawa did not even give him that chance.
The instant the ball left his hands, Shirasawa burst into motion, stepped forward, and leaped right in front of him!
As though grabbing a rebound, he plucked the ball straight out of the air with both hands.
At that moment, the Kakuno guard's eyes reddened.
"You're fucking taking this too far..."
The first half ended, and both teams went into halftime.
Though the game had long since become a blowout, there really had not been a dull moment to sneak off to the bathroom. One lapse in attention could mean missing a spectacular play.
As soon as the players left the court, the basket inspector jogged beneath Kakuno's basket support and examined it carefully, leaving in relief only after confirming it was fine.
That act deserved to be called the highlight of the game...
Shohoku had already grown numb to victory.
Takenori Akagi no longer roared, and his constantly taut nerves had relaxed, leaving him looking completely at ease. Though the substitutes still cheered every basket, they no longer stayed on their feet the entire time without sitting down for even half a second, as they had against Miuradai.
Overall, the team was looking more and more like a powerhouse.
This game was undoubtedly a step up for Shohoku. If there was any blemish at all, it was Hanamichi Sakuragi.
Kakuno had been routed so thoroughly that rebounds did not even need to be "fought for." They could simply wait for the ball to fall into their hands. Shohoku's rebounding king had no room whatsoever to show his stuff.
On offense, Sakuragi had confidently taken a few shots.
Soft touch... soft touch...
He kept repeating the cue Mitsui had taught him in his head.
The result really was soft-even the ball seemed limp.
"King of the paint~~"
An air ball.
The ball struck the underside of the rim.
This was not a soft touch. He had practically become a total softie.
In the end, Takenori Akagi kicked him aside and slammed the ball through the hoop the hard way, leaving him with a disgusted remark: "Disgusting."
Hanamichi Sakuragi wanted to cry but had no tears.
"Mitchy lied to me! ..."
After halftime, both teams' starters returned to the court to continue the second half.
Shirasawa knew Sakuragi was itching to prove himself, so he started setting him up as soon as the second half began.
It was the same familiar formula, but Shirasawa added a little flair.
He beat two defenders in succession and drove into the paint. A bump off his elbow sent the basketball miraculously changing direction. Under the astonished gazes of the entire crowd, Hanamichi Sakuragi soared into the air and finished the play with a genius alley-oop.
Only, Shirasawa's magical elbow pass completely stole the spotlight...
Facing the cheers filling the arena, Shirasawa shook his head a little sheepishly.
He seemed to have done Sakuragi a bit of a disservice.
Hanamichi Sakuragi himself, however, did not see it that way.
Seeing how fired up he was, Shirasawa went along with it and fed him a few more passes. Hanamichi Sakuragi finally got his fill of dunking. Though his moves still looked the same, he certainly had plenty of momentum.
As they kept playing, only five minutes remained. The numbers on the scoreboard were rather frightening: 147-12. Shohoku led by a full 135 points. Seeing the situation, Coach Anzai waved his hand, called a timeout, and took out all the starters.
Kiminobu Kogure led the bench lineup onto the court, leaving Kakuno High School a final scrap of dignity. Though the game offered little in the way of intense competition, it meant quite a lot to Shohoku. Holding his teacup, Coach Anzai could sense the players' movement and passing growing increasingly fluid. At times, they did not even need Shirasawa to deliberately organize the offense.
The previous game against Miuradai had been the new Shohoku Five Tigers' first official outing together. Today's game against Kakuno was like a whetstone, polishing their teamwork to an even brighter shine. With this battle, Shohoku had officially established its name in the prefecture. It was just that Kakuno, their whetstone, had been ground down to a rather pitiful state.
Sakuragi and the others left the court amid cheers filling the arena. For them, this game was over.
High in the stands, a bespectacled man nearly two meters tall gave a quiet snort. He seemed to have only recently arrived. After glancing at the outrageous score, he immediately lost interest and turned to leave.
But the moment he turned around, he nearly collided with an even more imposing figure-Jun Uozumi.
"Hey, Hanagata." Uozumi folded his arms, his voice low. "Did Shoyo send you to scout the opposition?"
Standing opposite him was none other than Shoyo High School's ace center, Toru Hanagata. At the sight of him, Uozumi's entire bearing unconsciously tensed. He clearly regarded the other man as an important rival.
Hanagata raised a hand to adjust his glasses, a faint smile on his face.
"Too bad I got here late. I only caught the ending." His tone was relaxed. "Shohoku has been making quite a splash these past two days. After today, I imagine people will praise them to the skies."
Uozumi... had actually arrived even later than him. Only after hearing Hanagata's words did he turn to examine the scoreboard. One look nearly made him blurt out, "Good grief."
Has Shohoku gone berserk?
Uozumi was shocked inwardly, but kept his expression steady. Straightening his back, he replied, "Shohoku does have some momentum this year. But you at Shoyo had better watch out. There's only one spot in the final four. It's either you or them."
Hanagata smiled dismissively.
"There was a team with plenty of momentum last year, too, but they showed their true colors as soon as they reached the final four." His tone was mild, but barbed. "A true powerhouse and a fake one are different, after all."
Without waiting for Uozumi to respond, he patted his shoulder as though comforting him and stepped past.
"See you in the final four, Uozumi."
Only after Hanagata's figure vanished into the passageway did Uozumi suddenly catch on, trembling all over with anger.
"Bastard... that guy really pisses me off!"
On the court, the referee finally blew the whistle to end the game. Several Kakuno players collapsed straight onto the floor. More than losing, this mental crushing had exhausted them. At last, they were free.
Kakuno's coach called his players back one by one and let out a long sigh.
"You all did your best. Don't take it to heart." He tried to make his voice sound a little stronger. "Shohoku is strong. Strong enough that they might even challenge Kainan. There's no shame in losing to a team like that. Keep your spirits up. We'll be back next year!"
Despite those words, the players still left the court with their heads down, looking lost. Watching their retreating figures, Kiminobu Kogure seemed to see himself last year... But now, he was on the winning side.
The reporters in the media section began packing up. They were not heading back to write their articles-they were rushing toward Shohoku's locker room! Shohoku had crushed Kakuno by the outrageous final score of 162-16, setting several prefectural tournament records in one go. Without a doubt, Shohoku's fame was about to climb another notch. Whoever secured the first interview would seize the advantage.
News, after all, was a race to be first.
Reporters soon crowded the locker room entrance. Everyone wanted to squeeze to the front. Though their words were polite, their bodies were honest. Amid the cheerful chatter, they quietly jostled for position. The closer they were to the door, the better their chances.
Only Yayoi Aida did not push forward. Given Basketball Weekly's standing, she had no need to. Even if Sanae had pulled one over on the magazine before, this was the Shohoku Basketball Team, not somewhere Sanae alone called the shots. Yayoi Aida believed that once the door opened, Coach Anzai or Captain Akagi would invite her in first.
Just as she was thinking that, the locker room doorknob turned.
The manager, Ayako, poked her head out first. Just as all the reporters prepared to speak, someone else stepped out behind Ayako. At the sight of her, Yayoi Aida's heart immediately sank.
"Sanae Nakagawa..."
Sanae had already changed her outfit. With a casual blazer with three-quarter sleeves over her clothes, she looked sharp and capable, her mature, sophisticated air immediately coming through.
Looking at everyone's stunned expressions, Sanae's lips curved slightly.
Just the day before, she had visited the Shohoku Basketball Team with Shirasawa and met Coach Anzai, Takenori Akagi, and Ayako.
Of course, Sanae had not come as a reporter. When she presented herself as "Shirasawa's agent," the three of them froze on the spot.
The term "basketball agent" was not particularly common at the time, especially a player's personal agent. Even national team players had no such concept.
Most players handled everything themselves, and quite a few consequently stumbled in business. Some even chose the wrong path and sent their careers straight to rock bottom.
This profession was most common in overseas leagues, and among those present, only Coach Anzai knew a little about it.
After all, he was a former national team player who had seen something of the world.
In recent years, the domestic professional basketball league had suffered from a gap between generations, relying entirely on picking the best of a weak bunch to keep up appearances.
High school and university leagues, however, were thriving. The high school league in particular had seen a crop of talented players emerge across the country, making its influence unrivaled for a time.
Players like Sannoh's Eiji Sawakita and Kainan's Shinichi Maki had resounding reputations.
Once someone became famous, the next step became especially important-for example, which university team to choose.
What could the team offer besides big talk? What prospects would they have after joining? Would commercial opportunities come knocking?
A commercial event could boost someone's fame, but it could also ruin their reputation.
Every choice a player made affected their entire career and their own value.
Sanae's arrival as an agent was perfectly timed. She could be the first to take the plunge.
This was actually a plan Shirasawa had laid out for her before the practice match against Ryonan. Once Sanae heard it, she was completely won over.
As a professional basketball reporter, she quickly grasped the key points. That Shirasawa could think of all this truly opened her eyes.
With Sanae's connections and instincts, developing in this direction was undoubtedly the best choice. But the plan had one crucial element: players.
Being the first to try something took courage, but it also had to be something viable. Take players, for example-not everyone could understand the importance of this new arrangement.
Some players might think, I'm this good. Why should I let someone else tell me what to do? Besides, who knows whether all your promises are empty? You could sell me out without me even realizing it.
Or take commercial endorsements. A magazine offers ten thousand, and working with you means giving you two thousand. Why should I? Keeping control of my own fate and finances is still the safest bet.
So this was the hardest part of getting started as a basketball agent. If the players lacked awareness, anything one said was pointless.
At a time like this, only someone taking the lead and setting an example, showing them the benefits, would allow them to accept and judge it.
Whether the person taking the lead cooperated was secondary. What mattered most was having influence. Without influence, it was all empty talk.