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

Fukatsu put down his water bottle and glanced at the tactics board.

We forcibly brought this distorted style back on track.

"The farce is over."

Fukatsu regained his composure and looked at Sawakita, who was still panting heavily.

"Sawakita, Rukawa Kaede is yours tomorrow."

Kawada tugged at his jersey, looking down at him with a fierce glint in his eyes:

"Fakatsu is right."

"To deal with a lone wolf like this who loves to fight one-on-one, a one-on-many gank will only excite him more."

"Just use your best method, confront him head-on, and completely subdue him."

"Let him learn a lesson: there's a price to pay for putting on airs in front of the Mountain King."

Zebei rubbed his neck and slowly stood up.

When he looked up again, the grievance on his face had vanished.

Instead, there was an absolute sense of oppression from the "Number One High School Student".

"I have no objection."

"I will show him what cruelty is on both offense and defense."

Zebei's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a chilling ruthlessness.

But then he changed the subject, his gaze passing over Rukawa Kaede and fixed on the blurry figure of number 16 at the edge of the videotape.

"However... Rukawa is easy to deal with, what really makes me uneasy is that person."

Zebei's Adam's apple bobbed.

His mind was filled with the image of Lin Bei beating Feng Yu, using Tai Chi Bajiquan to smash Nan Lie to pieces, and a grotesque change of direction that made his opponent kneel down.

"That guy named Lin Bei... he's hiding too well, he's practically a bottomless black hole," Ze Bei muttered to himself.

Coach Domoto, who had been sitting in the back row, pushed up his glasses, the lenses reflecting a cold light.

"Lin Bei is indeed a big problem."

"But to strike at the heart of the matter, to dismantle Shohoku, we must start with their other players."

Domoto pressed the remote control, and the picture fast-forwarded.

The image is frozen on a petite woman with curly hair wearing an earring.

"continue."

The substitute player quickly turned the page: "Ryota Miyagi, point guard, 168cm tall. A typical small, quick, and agile player with excellent rhythm for advancing the fast break."

Kawada frowned and looked at Fukatsu: "Fakatsu, you must find these shortys that crawl around on the ground the most annoying, right?"

Fukatsu stared intently at Miyagi's breakthrough path on the screen, without even blinking.

"That was true before."

"But after watching the game against Toyotama, I realized that this kid's core competitiveness isn't speed, but his passing vision."

"If he manages to energize Shohoku's offense, we'll be in serious trouble."

Kawada sneered and slapped Fukatsu's shoulder hard with his large palm.

"Don't worry!"

"His speed is no match for yours!"

"When fighting against these short, stocky guys, a brutal tactic will suffice."

"Give him a break on defense; if his lousy outside shooting kills him, it's on me!"

Dahetian pointed to the data comparison board: "168 to 180."

"A full 12 centimeters of static talent completely overwhelms!"

"Defensively, we can completely block his passing lanes; offensively, it's even simpler—just high balls and long balls!"

"Back-to-the-basket moves, pull-up jumpers—use your physical advantages to counter him and crush him!"

Coach Domoto nodded in satisfaction as he listened to Kawada's violent tactical breakdown.

"That's right."

"This is our point guard's strategy of overwhelming the enemy."

Domoto stood up, his eyes blazing. "Fakatsu, basketball is all about spacing."

"Use your height to squeeze Miyagi's living space to zero."

"You'll be in charge of controlling the pace of tomorrow's game."

Fukatsu didn't make any explosive statements; he simply looked calmly at Domoto.

"Don't worry, I'll beat him to a pulp." A casual remark.

"Next."

Domoto pressed the remote control. The screen switched to a short-haired player wearing number 14.

Catching the ball, jumping, flicking the wrist—the basketball traces a perfect parabola, swishing cleanly into the net with unparalleled smoothness.

"Mitsui Hisashi."

Domoto made no attempt to hide his admiration.

"His shooting form is textbook perfect, and his power generation is fluid."

"This kind of soft texture is something we can't find anywhere else in Sannoh."

A low gasp of surprise rippled through the video room.

Sannoh has never been stingy with its respect for pure technology.

But Domoto suddenly changed his tone, and his voice turned cold.

"However, he has a fatal flaw."

"A two-year hiatus is a devastating blow to one's competitive form."

Domoto picked up a red pen and drew a big red X in the place representing Mitsui.

"So he's a freak."

"Although I've been throwing incredible shots lately to keep my life afloat."

"But physical fitness is definitely his Achilles' heel!"

Domoto turned around, his gaze sweeping across the bench like a knife, finally settling on an inconspicuous crew-cut boy in the corner.

"Ichinokura Satoshi".

The crew-cut boy sprang to his feet like a spring, his eyes fierce.

As the defensive anchor of Sannoh, his stamina and tenacious defense are a nightmare for all attackers.

"You'll start tomorrow," Domoto coldly ordered.

The ability to change formations to lock down a single point is what makes the Mountain King so terrifying.

As long as we can win, saving face is nothing.

"Mitsui has been absent for two years, so his physical condition must be terrible."

Domoto walked up to Ichinokura and said, "Your only task tomorrow is to not watch the game, but to watch the players."

"Yes!" Ichinokura Satoshi responded loudly.

"Use your close-marking advantage to harass him!"

"You even messed up his breathing rhythm!"

Domoto clenched his fist tightly, as if he were announcing Shohoku's death sentence in advance.

"You can tell he's arrogant at heart; he'll definitely try his best to find opportunities."

"He'll go to extreme lengths to get rid of you in the first half."

"I want you to deplete his stamina bar in the first half."

"In the second half, I'm going to make sure this talented striker doesn't even have the strength to lift his arm!"

"Understood! I'll stick to him like glue!"

Ichinokura Satoshi loudly accepted the order, his eyes revealing a fervent determination to execute the tactics.

Domoto Goro was quite satisfied with the menacing atmosphere created by the pack of wolf cubs.

He pressed the remote control with his thumb:

"Next, let's look at the rest of Shohoku..."

The screen flashed, and the videotape switched.

What popped out wasn't some muscular beast.

Instead, it was a huge, arrogant, and eye-catching red head.

The camera was shaking like an earthquake.

Sakuragi Hanamichi's arrogant and cool face filled the entire screen, his chin held high and his nostrils practically glaring at people.

In the recording room, the expressions of the Sannoh members froze on the spot.

Kawada frowned, his thick, dark eyebrows furrowing, and leaned forward with his massive body:

"What's wrong with this kid?"

"Looking for the camera..."

Kazunari Fukatsu made a sarcastic remark without any expression.

Sawakita Eiji's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets:

"No... was he really looking for camera shots in the game footage?"

"This brain circuitry..."

In the video, Sakuragi Hanamichi strides confidently toward the photographer on the sidelines.

The entire audience held their breath.

Is this the dark horse that crushed Hainan and Fengyu?

Is this Shohoku's starting power forward?

"He's coming up..." The substitute defender swallowed hard, his voice barely audible.

In those bizarre fractions of a second...

"Bang!"

A muffled thud exploded from the speaker.

In the scene, a basketball seems to have eyes and flies in from off-screen...

It landed precisely on Sakuragi Hanamichi's arrogant face!