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

A dull, piercing sound of a ball hitting the metal echoed through the stadium.

The basketball slammed heavily against the front of the rim and bounced high into the air.

"Didn't make it in?!"

A collective sigh of regret rippled through the Shohoku bench.

"rebound!"

The inside player, Morishige Hiroshi, let out a roar, rising up like a mountain.

He squeezed Akagi and Rukawa behind him and grabbed the defensive rebound tightly.

"Counterattack!"

Meihou's point guard received the pass and pierced towards Shohoku's half like an arrow.

Mitsui Hisashi swayed violently after landing.

He wanted to go back to defend.

But my feet felt like they were glued to the floor, and I couldn't take a step.

He could only support himself on his knees with both hands, panting heavily.

Sweat blurred my vision.

He watched as Mingpeng's players surged toward his half of the field like a tide, and an unprecedented sense of powerlessness overwhelmed him.

"As expected... it still doesn't work..."

"My stamina..."

In that instant, the surrounding cheers and the sharp screech of sneakers seemed to vanish.

Mitsui's mind fell into a terrifying silence.

The scene began to flash back uncontrollably.

It was a nightmare he never wanted to recall, yet it clung to him like a leech.

A dimly lit, damp alley. Rainwater mixed with mud splashed onto worn-out leather shoes.

The smell of cheap, low-quality cigarettes filled the air.

Her long hair covered her eyes, making it impossible to see any light.

"Hey, Mitsui, what are you spacing out for?"

"Go beat that high school kid up!"

The boisterous laughter of the delinquents pierced my eardrums.

He threw a punch, breaking someone else's teeth, and also shattering the pride he once held dear.

On countless sleepless nights, he hid under the covers, looking at his hands, which were bleeding and scraped from fighting.

These hands were originally meant for shooting three-pointers!

"Why...why do I have to give up..."

I will try to persevere a little longer during my rehabilitation at the hospital.

If only I could touch a basketball during those days of wandering the streets.

If only I had the stamina of Sakuragi and Rukawa Kaede on this fate-determining national finals stage.

"Even just a little bit more energy would be great!"

Extreme regret, like a cold, venomous snake, tightly constricted Mitsui's heart.

It made it hard for him to breathe, plunging him into deep confusion and despair.

"Bang!"

A dull slam dunk brought Mitsui back to reality.

Meihou's power forward seized the opportunity of a fast break, scoring with a powerful dunk before Shohoku could establish a foothold.

Xiangbei 12:11 famous friends!

Mingpeng is relentlessly pursuing them!

"Retreat! Retreat quickly!"

Coach Mingpeng was waving his arms wildly on the sidelines, his sinister smile almost impossible to conceal.

"Listen! Change your defensive strategy!"

"Shrink the entire paint! Block out the paint!"

"That gorilla, the redhead, and that fox—the three of them ganged up on us!"

The veteran coach paused for a moment, then pointed his finger directly at Mitsui Hisashi, who was panting outside the three-point line.

"As for that number 14... completely abandon him!"

"Don't specifically defend against him! Give him plenty of space!"

These words caused an uproar in the room.

"What? You're letting Mitsui Hisashi go?"

On the Hainan bench, Kiyota Nobunaga stared wide-eyed at Meihou's coach as if he were a madman.

"That's Shohoku's most accurate three-point shooter! Isn't this just asking for trouble?!"

Maki Shinichi slowly shook his head, his eyes more solemn than ever before.

"No, this is suicide."

"This is an extremely vicious psychological warfare and open conspiracy."

"Mingpeng is gambling."

"They bet that Mitsui's current physical condition is no longer able to support even a standard shooting motion."

"What's even scarier is when you're completely left open, standing outside the three-point line with the ball."

"All eyes will be on you, and that psychological pressure of having to shoot is enough to completely destroy a shooter's confidence."

"This is Mingpeng's scheme—to kill someone by destroying their spirit!"

On the field, Mingpeng Industrial's defensive wall has been set up.

The five men, like five gatekeepers, completely blocked the penalty area.

Akagi was tightly sandwiched between Morishige Hiroshi and another big guy, with no room to even turn around.

Sakuragi even encountered the most brutal physical combat.

Rukawa's path to breakthrough was completely blocked.

Ryota Miyagi was dribbling at the top of the key, sweating profusely with anxiety.

There was no opportunity to break through the defenses.

"Damn it! There's not even a crack!"

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Miyagi caught a glimpse of something at a 45-degree angle to his right.

Mitsui Hisashi stood there all alone.

Within a two-meter radius of him, there wasn't a single Mingpeng defender!

Kageyama even retreated to a point inside the three-point line, hands on his hips, watching coldly from the sidelines.

"Mitsui-senpai!"

Miyagi had no choice but to make a powerful crossover pass, sending the basketball into Mitsui's hands.

The ball is in hand.

An extremely familiar touch.

This is an absolutely perfect empty spot.

No pick-and-roll, no positioning, no physical contact.

However, as Mitsui Hisashi held the ball, his hands began to tremble slightly uncontrollably.

The unrestrained laughter of the substitutes from Mingpeng reached my ears.

"Go ahead and vote! Why aren't you voting?"

"He's too scared to shoot! He's hesitated!"

"That weakling, he definitely won't make the shot! Hahahaha!"

Even in the audience, whispers began to rise.

"It seems like Shohoku's number 14 is really past his prime."

"That last shot was completely airballed; you must be exhausted."

"Let's make a substitution, otherwise Shohoku is bound to lose this game."

Doubt, ridicule, pity.

Countless negative emotions weighed heavily on Mitsui's shoulders like an invisible mountain.

You can't make the shot. In this state, you simply can't make it.

If this shot doesn't go in, the team's morale will completely collapse.

If, because of me, Akagi's and everyone else's dream of dominating the nation is shattered...

I am the sinner of Shohoku!

The shadow of those two years of inactivity loomed over us once again.

Mitsui even felt that the basketball hoop in front of him was doubled and distorted.

He bit his lower lip so hard that it bled.

But he just couldn't bring himself to throw the basketball.

Confidence, in those few short seconds, faced the desperate situation of complete collapse.

What is he hesitating about?

Rukawa Kaede was tightly marked in the paint, his brows furrowed as he coldly stared at the outside.

"Mistress! Throw it!"

"Even if I have to fight tooth and nail, I'll get that rebound!" Sakuragi Hanamichi roared wildly in the crowd.

But Mitsui seemed to hear nothing.

Kageyama stood a step away and even made a "please" gesture.

His eyes were full of mockery and disdain.

"What? You're too scared to vote?"

"I knew it. A good-for-nothing like you who has wasted two years of your life can't handle this level of pressure at all."

"You'd better get off the field and hide in a corner crying."

Time passed second by second.

There were only eight seconds left on the clock.

In this deathly silence, in this oppressive atmosphere that could drive a person mad.

Suddenly, a roar that seemed to tear the sky apart erupted from the highest point of the stands!

"Feed—!!!"

"Mitsui——!!!"