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

Upon hearing the words "secret weapon".

Sakuragi's expression instantly brightened.

He touched his bald head and let out a lewd laugh:

"Hehehe..."

"As expected, this genius is the grand finale."

"There's nothing we can do about it. This is the fate of a savior. Being too popular is also a sin."

Sakuragi walked to the dressing mirror.

In the mirror, there was a bald head, red hair, clearly defined muscles, and those wild eyes.

He suddenly felt a little dazed.

A few months ago, he was just a complete novice who only touched basketball to please Haruko, and he even managed to hit his own foot while dribbling.

And now.

Hiroshima.

National competition.

The highest stage for high school students nationwide.

The heart was pounding violently inside the chest cavity.

thump.

thump.

It wasn't nervousness, it was excitement.

A sense of dread that comes from the depths of one's soul.

"It's finally here..."

He silently recited it in his heart.

"Just you wait, Haruko, and Daddy too."

"The moment when I, the genius Sakuragi Hanamichi, will shock all of Japan is today!"

Just then, Mitsui Hisashi, who had been silent all along, suddenly spoke up.

He walked up to Coach Anzai, clutching that damned copy of "Basketball Weekly" in his hand, his knuckles white from the force.

"coach."

Mitsui's face was so gloomy it could drip water.

He jabbed his finger hard at the glaring "C" on the magazine.

"They rated Shohoku as a C-level."

"We're at the bottom of the C-level, they say we're a bottom-tier team that gets eliminated in the first round."

What's your opinion?

Mitsui gritted his teeth, his eyes flashing with resentful anger.

The room fell silent instantly.

Everyone looked at Coach Anzai.

The old man, who was always smiling, was sitting on a bench, holding a magazine in his hands.

He pushed up his reflective glasses.

I looked at the "C" and then at the "A" that was praising Toyotama to the skies.

then.

"Hehehe~"

Coach Anzai smiled.

He laughed so hard his whole body jiggled, his chin trembling like jelly, as if he had seen the funniest joke ever.

"Very good, very good."

Mitsui was stunned: "Huh? Very good?"

Is this old man out of his mind from anger?

You're being attacked head-on and you're still saying it's good?

Coach Anzai put down the magazine and looked up.

His gaze swept over every teenager present.

There was no anger in his eyes, only a kind of wisdom that saw through the ways of the world, and a trace of... cunning and shrewdness.

"Mitsui-kun, and everyone else."

Coach Anzai's voice was gentle, yet penetrating.

"Isn't this more interesting?"

"Because most people didn't expect us to win."

"In their eyes, we are the weak, stepping stones, and just there to make up the numbers."

Coach Anzai paused, his smile deepening—the smile of a hunter seeing his prey fall into the net.

"Anyway, once the competition is over, we'll know whether this analysis comes from an expert or a 'pseudo-expert'."

"Since they gave us a C grade..."

"Then let us tell them."

Coach Anzai suddenly stood up.

In that instant, a huge white-haired ghost seemed to rise behind the kind, plump old man, its aura fully unleashed!

"Broaden your perspective."

"Tell everyone!"

"This judgment is completely wrong!"

boom--!

These words were like a spark that instantly ignited a powder keg in the entire lounge.

All the repression, tension, and resentment transformed into a boiling fighting spirit at this moment.

"Ohhhhhh!!!"

Akagi Takenori roared and raised his fist.

"Shohoku!!"

The group formed a circle, their palms overlapping.

Burning palms, burning heart.

"one two three!!"

"To dominate the entire nation!!!"

The roar was deafening, even the door of the lounge was shaking.

……

Inside the stadium.

Looking around, the stands were almost entirely occupied by Toyotama High School's cheering squad.

It was a deep blue ocean that was so oppressive it was suffocating.

There were no cheers.

All that could be heard were beastly roars, baseless insults, and the most offensive swear words in the Osaka dialect.

Faced with this blue tsunami, Shohoku's pitiful support seats were like a small raft that could fall apart at any moment in a storm.

Gao Gongwang clutched two empty plastic bottles in his hand, his belly jiggling with each step.

He struggled to step over the railing and plopped down on the chair.

"Creak—"

The plastic chair let out a piercing scream.

"What a lousy place! The chairs aren't even as sturdy as my toilet seat."

Takamiya Nozomi wiped the sweat from her forehead and curled her lip in disgust:

"Is this what you call the pomp and circumstance of a top-tier A-level team?"

"Aside from being loud, their manners are practically nonexistent."

He shook the empty bottle in his hand; it was a "budget version of the big weapon" he was preparing to use to fight back against the noise.

"Fengyu and his group haven't broadened their horizons."

Yohei Mito followed slowly behind, his hands in his pockets.

His gaze lazily swept over the fierce-looking faces around him, but there was no warmth in his eyes.

"Alright, stop complaining."

Yohei leaned against the railing, a playful smile playing on his lips:

"It's good that we made it."

"If we miss his national debut in flower arranging, that guy will probably headbutt us in the stomach."

Yuji Oonan and Tadashi Noma also joined in.

"That's..." Noma suddenly pointed to the entrance of the passage.

Several girls came running up, panting. It was Haruko and her group of best friends, as well as Tokuo Horita's "Flame Men" squad.

Haruko had changed into a comfortable T-shirt, her cheeks were flushed, and she was tightly clutching two inflatable sticks in her hands.

"Haruko! Slow down!"

Fujii clutched his knees, feeling like his lungs were about to explode. "The match... hasn't even started yet..."

However, before they could even get comfortable sitting down...

The overwhelming barrage of insults from all around was like a bucket of cold water being poured over them.

"Kill them!"

"Go back to Kanagawa and nurse!"

This kind of vocabulary, full of violent elements, is simply mental pollution for ordinary high school girls.

Matsui shrank his neck, his face pale:

"This is terrifying... Is this really basketball?"

"I feel like I've stumbled into a gang shootout..."

Just then.

The lights in the entire venue suddenly went out.

The huge spotlight, like a sharp sword, pierced the players' tunnel.

"They're here!" Fujii screamed.

From the dark exit, red and black jerseys burst forth like flames.

Takenori Akagi took the lead, like a moving city wall.

Next up are Rukawa Kaede, Miyagi Ryota, Mitsui Hisashi...

There was also Lin Bei walking in the middle of the group, looking like he hadn't woken up yet exuding a powerful aura.

as well as……

That bald head that was so shiny it reflected light.

"Go Shohoku!!"

Haruko put the cheering stick to her lips and shouted with all her might.

The crisp cheer was instantly swallowed up by a tsunami of boos from Toyotama, without even a ripple.

But the boys on the field heard it.

Sakuragi Hanamichi suddenly looked up.

The spotlight shone on his shiny bald head, reflecting a blinding holy light.

A red buzz cut and fierce eyes.

Plus that muscular physique.

Even in Toyotama's home turf, this look would be considered "ruthless bandit."

Even more brutal.