Kuroko's Basketball template: the king of slacking off, Shohoku's strongest sixth man.

"Oh?"

A flippant snort.

Miyagi Ryota chewed his gum and slowly took a step forward.

Hands in pockets, chin slightly raised.

Those eyes gleamed with a ruthlessness honed from years of street brawls.

"What? Want to practice?"

Mitsui Hisashi lowered the brim of his hat, a cruel smile curving his lips. He cracked his knuckles as he moved his wrist.

That aura of a former leader of a criminal gang instantly came to the fore.

"I'm itching for a fight, so I don't mind warming up before the match and teaching you guys a lesson in life."

Even Rukawa Kaede walked up with a cold face.

Although he didn't speak, those dead fish eyes conveyed only two words: I'll play along.

Add to that Akagi Takenori's towering physique and Sakuragi Hanamichi's menacing appearance.

The atmosphere on Shohoku's side instantly changed from a "basketball team" to a "yakuza organization".

"Well……"

Feng Yu's team members paused, stunned by the overwhelming aura emanating from them.

Are these guys... really here to play ball?

He looks like he just got released from prison.

Just as the two sides were about to take action, at the critical moment...

"Stop it, all of you!"

A loud shout, like a thunderclap, rang out.

Akagi Takenori's eyes widened in anger, and the veins on his forehead throbbed.

"Stop arguing pointlessly!"

"We're here to play ball, let's save our energy for the court!"

At the same time, a voice came from behind Fengyu's team.

Calm, indifferent, yet carrying an undeniable air of authority.

"That's right, never mind, Kishimoto."

The sound wasn't loud, but it was like a bucket of ice water, instantly extinguishing the anger in Kishimoto's heart.

Kishimoto, who had been acting like a fighting cock just moments before, actually stopped in his tracks upon hearing this voice.

Although his face was still full of resentment, he obediently retreated.

Everyone looked in the direction of the sound.

At the very back of Toyotama's team, a man wearing a number 4 jersey walked out.

With single eyelids, a sinister gaze, and an expressionless face, he gave off a chilling feeling of being watched by a venomous snake.

His gaze swept indifferently over the members of Xiangbei.

Mu Shen's eyes narrowed, and he turned to the side.

He subtly moved closer to Lin Bei and lowered his voice to remind him:

"Lin Bei, that guy... is Feng Yu's captain, Nan Lie."

"Be careful of him."

Lin Bei raised an eyebrow and twirled the soda can between his fingers.

Lin Bei raised his eyelids and met Nan Lie's gaze.

Their gazes met in mid-air, but there was no spark, only a silent probing.

Lin Bei smiled, his eyes showing no fear, but rather a hint of provocation.

Nan Lie withdrew his gaze, ignoring Lin Bei's provocation.

He looked at Takenori Akagi, his tone as flat as if he were reading a textbook:

"We'll see who's stronger tomorrow."

"Akagi, we are basketball players. Regardless of winning or losing, we must play without any regrets."

This statement sounds grand and even carries a sense of the nobility of sportsmanship.

But those who knew the inside story felt a chill run down their spines as they listened.

Does the so-called "no regrets" mean that one can use any means necessary to win?

Akagi Takenori gave him a deep look and replied in a deep voice, "Of course, we will defeat you fair and square."

"snort."

Nan Lie didn't say anything more, turned around and waved, "Let's go."

The storm seemed to be about to subside.

However, just as Toyotama and the others passed by Shohoku, the guy with the buzz cut wearing the number 6 jersey suddenly quickened his pace.

Daijiro Itakura, Toyotama's starting point guard, has a sharp and sarcastic look on his face.

He walked straight toward Miyagi Ryota without giving way at all.

Just as the two were about to pass each other.

Itakura suddenly shifted to the side, his shoulder slamming into Miyagi.

"Bang!"

Although Miyagi was small in stature, he had an extremely stable lower body, and his body only swayed slightly without falling.

But his sports bag almost fell to the ground.

"oops."

Itakura stopped and looked down at Miyagi, who only reached his chest.

With an extremely irritating fake smile on his face and an exaggerated tone:

"I'm so sorry, I'm really sorry."

"I can't see you."

He gestured with his hand above the palace's head: "It's too short, it's completely in my blind spot."

This is blatant humiliation.

Bringing up height is Miyagi's Achilles' heel.

Sakuragi Hanamichi was about to rush forward instantly: "You bastard! What did you say?!"

But someone was faster than him.

Ryota Miyagi raised his head, and his face, which always wore a cynical smile, was now as cold as ice.

He didn't get angry, and he didn't even swear.

He simply patted the spot on his shoulder where he had been bumped, in a leisurely manner.

It looked like something dirty had gotten on it.

"Feed".

Miyagi's voice was soft, yet it clearly reached Itakura's ears.

"Since your eyesight is bad, you shouldn't play ball anymore. Go get your presbyopia treated."

"besides……"

Gongcheng raised his eyes, his gaze sharp as a knife, a cold, extremely contemptuous smile curling at the corner of his lips:

"Let's go buy the train tickets first."

Itakura was taken aback, turning around to look at the short man with a puzzled expression: "Huh? A ticket? What does that mean?"

With his hands in his pockets and his body leaning slightly forward, Miyagi exuded an overwhelming sense of pressure.

Each word, spoken slowly and deliberately, is like a knife to the heart:

"Of course, it's the train ticket back to Osaka."

"Buy your tickets in advance. You'll have to go back after the match tomorrow, right?"

"If you buy it too late, it'll be exhausting to walk back crying."

Itakura's face instantly froze.

That fake smile froze on his face, making him look utterly ridiculous.

"you……"

He wanted to argue, but Gongcheng was no longer looking at him, turning away with a nonchalant air, leaving him with only a casual remark:

"Don't forget to buy the express ticket; it'll roll faster."

"puff--"

Lin Bei couldn't help but burst out laughing.

He held the soda can high in his hand, offering a slight salute to Miyagi's retreating figure.

"Ryota, that was... fucking cool."

……

The night was as thick as ink that couldn't be dissolved.

Hiroshima's vibrant nightlife showed no mercy to the darkness; neon lights flashed wildly.

Luxury hotel, high-floor suites.

The bathroom was steaming hot, like a sauna.

Ryota Miyagi curled up in the large bathtub.

The water was scalding hot, and his skin turned a deep red like that of a cooked shrimp, but he didn't even flinch.

He raised his hand and pressed his fingertips firmly against his left shoulder.

That's the spot where Daijiro Itakura hit me during the day.

There were no bruises, not even red marks.

But the nauseating feeling of being looked down upon by a giant was like a rusty nail, driven deep into the flesh.

"Blind spots, huh...?"

Miyagi scooped up a handful of hot water and splashed it hard on his face.

That bastard named Itakura.

That idiot who uses his height as a weapon.

Gongcheng suddenly opened his eyes, water droplets streaming down his unruly face.

In the mist, his eyes held no anger, only a chilling, bone-scraping coldness.

"tomorrow."

He stood up from the water with a splash, his lean muscles covered in water droplets.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I see a figure that is only 168 centimeters tall.

Miyagi twitched the corner of his mouth, revealing a set of white teeth.

"I'll make you break those legs you're so proud of."

"Since you can't see me, I'll make sure you can only stare at my back and eat dust until the final whistle blows."

He grabbed a towel, roughly rubbed his hair, and made a shot gesture at his reflection in the mirror.

"Wash your neck and wait, you idiot."