JSWGAS Chapter 63

“Speaking of which, Grey, the magazine I work for interviewed someone unexpected.”

“Oh? The prince’s magazine? Who is it?”

“…Someone who once walked a path with you and me, seems like they’ve been defending their title recently. Just like the protagonist of a manga.”

“Hmm——”

“…”

“That kid, must be running on their own path now, right?”

He smiled and said that.

–

The rare sunny day in Tokyo didn’t last long, overwhelmed by the cold wind and light snow. Pedestrians hurried through the wind and snow, a thin layer of white accumulating on their heads and eyebrows, the color of the zebra crossing gradually deepening from the melting snow.

Unlike the cold outside, the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium was still a lively scene.

Spectators waved cheering sticks, the rustling sound of hand-held cheering flowers, students shouting the Teiko Middle School slogan, and the commentator’s passionate shouts all came together to form this scene.

At this time, the first quarter of the game had just ended, and the scoreboard showed a score of 21:17, with only a 4-point difference between the two sides. After finding it difficult to stop Kokonoe Taka, Joban Middle School switched to restricting the passing routes of other players.

This was a good strategy: first block Akashi from passing to Kokonoe, and then use double-teaming to defend against other people’s attacks. Midorima and Aomine made shooting errors because of this, resulting in a turnover of possession; while Murasakibara completely clashed with Joban’s center, the two glaring at each other under the basket, jostling for position.

Coach Kiyota glanced at the scoreboard: “Akashi, can you still handle it?”

He was the second most physically exhausted person on the court. Joban’s number four had made several excellent steals, and it was not easy to consistently pass the ball smoothly under frequent interference.

Akashi, holding a water bottle, replied in a deep voice: “I’m still fine.”

Murasakibara Atsushi complained reluctantly: “That number six is so annoying, always blocking me…”

Nijimura reminded him: “Pay attention to the timing of your jumps, watch number six’s movements before grabbing the rebound.”

Aomine rubbed his hair irritably: “The double-teaming from numbers five and six is too fast. Number seven also tries to steal the ball sometimes… so I have to shoot—damn it, why didn’t it go in! My touch was good!”

Habumoto Suzume pressed Kokonoe Taka’s shoulder: “Joban isn’t afraid of us dragging out the time. They mainly restrict our ball movement, forcing us to go over the time limit…” He looked at Akashi.

The latter unhurriedly continued: “They use the rule that the ball must touch the rim within 30 seconds to force us to shoot, which reduces accuracy – the pressure on the number six center is great, coupled with the physical exhaustion from continuous offense and defense, the momentum will gradually shift to their side.”

Coach Kiyota nodded: “Good that you understand. And Aomine’s fouls… you’re playing more and more passively.” He paused, “Joban is good at quick interceptions and double-teaming, which reduces the passing options relatively…”

“Kuroko, get ready, you’ll replace Midorima in the next quarter; and Haizaki – you’ll replace Aomine, restrict number five’s movements. Kokonoe, you continue to attack, don’t relax your support from the outside -”

The others nodded, only one person hung his head, arms relaxed and resting on his knees. “Kokonoe?” Coach Kiyota called again.

Habumoto Suzume worriedly pressed his shoulder. The person who had been silent finally looked up, his tone a little hesitant: “I know.”

Before he went on the court, Habumoto Suzume said in a low voice: “Little Nine, don’t rush too hard.” He paused, quickened his pace, “Haizaki going up also helps to share some of the pressure, so -”

The whistle blew, and the referee looked at the player who had been slow to enter the court. His voice came to an abrupt halt.

Kokonoe Taka responded softly, turned back and smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, we’ll win.”

……

…………

The sounds… were very far away.

What was Coach Kiyota arranging? The personnel changes for the second quarter? What were the instructions? — I couldn’t hear, as if I was in a vacuum environment.

So, where am I now?

Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium.

What am I doing here?

Playing in the finals, the opponent is Joban.

How is my physical condition?

Very… strange.

After stepping into the white boundary line, the unconscious self-questioning and self-answering came to an end. He stared at the light-colored floor for a moment, and once again confirmed his thoughts. The referee blew the whistle and tossed the ball. Murasakibara, who had his jump ball stolen in the first quarter, had been holding his breath, and this time he raised his hand a step faster than number six, and tipped the ball away!

“Haizaki!”

“I know! Stop bothering me!”

Haizaki Shogo had been building up a bellyful of anger while on the bench in the first quarter. Although his movements coordinated well with Murasakibara Atsushi, his mouth was unforgiving, cursing and grumbling as he sped across the half-court, stepping into the paint. And in front of him, the number four point guard—also the captain of Joban, was blocking his path.

Haizaki Shogo stopped abruptly, his eyes sweeping across the court, “I’m telling you, your tricks might work on our monkey, but they won’t work on me.”

Number four raised an eyebrow: “Oh?”

From a certain point of view, Joban Middle School’s play style was similar to Haizaki Shogo’s style.

Joban used footwork and double-teaming to create a sense of urgency in defense, forcing Aomine’s pace to quicken. Aomine Daiki almost had several of his direction-changing breakthroughs called as offensive fouls—although that guy doesn’t have much of a brain when playing, his intuition is really good, and he didn’t let Joban succeed. But afterwards, because of the intense pace changes, Aomine’s shooting percentage also dropped.

And Haizaki Shogo could be called a master of pace changes. His observation skills were amazing, and his brain worked fast. His usual grades focused on rhythm and pace conversion. Therefore, he could easily see through Joban’s tactics.

And he’s not like Aomine Daiki and those guys. Haizaki took a step back, thinking.

Number four sensed something and shouted, “Wait!”

But he was ultimately a step slow. Joban’s number five was trying to use the same trick again, double-teaming Haizaki from behind. The distance was just right. But when he stuck close, he crashed straight into Haizaki’s arm—the latter was turning to shoot, and the referee blew his whistle, indicating a defensive foul.

The basketball hit the rim, spun a few times, and fell into the basket under everyone’s gaze.

The shot was good, with an additional free throw.

“Nice one, Haizaki!”

“Damn it, that guy really loves to show off!”

“Good shot!”

Haizaki Shogo, listening to the cheers in his ears, narrowed his eyes and stuck his tongue out provocatively at Joban: “Sorry.”

The Joban players: “…” He’s so punchable!!!

While Haizaki Shogo was single-handedly drawing all the aggro from the other team, “Kuroko.” The red-haired boy quietly came to Kuroko Tetsuya’s side, “Haizaki will share the pressure. Pass the ball to Kokonoe-senpai more later.”

Kuroko Tetsuya was stunned: “…Eh? I understand.” He caught a glimpse of a certain flickering light in the red-haired point guard’s eyes, as if it were a sea of ​​turbulent undercurrents, and sharp expectations turned into reefs that crushed the waves. But it was only a fleeting moment, and those strange emotions were smoothed out by the gentle gaze, as if it were just an illusion that appeared when he was distracted.

……

…………

A strange feeling.

Haizaki’s feints were well-executed, and he wasn’t interfered with by Joban, he played very well. When did he become so reliable?

Murasakibara got the rebound and worked with Akashi to score two points. His explosiveness threatened the number six center.

Kuroko’s passes are still so amazing… No one reacted. They were still staring at Akashi, and four or five seconds passed before they realized the ball wasn’t in his hands. Anyone who saw such a miraculous pass would be shocked, right? I was the same in the beginning.

—So, what about me?

Kokonoe Taka did not rush into the paint. He watched the opponent three or four steps away from him, his fingers almost instinctively holding the rough surface of the basketball, and casually tossed the ball into the basket. When he landed, he couldn’t hear the cheers from the sidelines or the commentator’s shouts. He didn’t even care that his name appeared in the screams. Compared to those, the sound of the basketball falling was surprisingly slight, but it resonated in his ears.

Then, he raised his head and looked all the way from the white line on the court to the high basketball hoop.

That moment.

Extremely abruptly, the pores all over his body seemed to be opened in an instant, receiving information from the outside world; his hazy and confused mind seemed to be suddenly immersed in the seabed, a chill rushing straight to the top of his head. His fingers trembled uncontrollably, his hands wanted to hold something, grip something, and he felt a strong sense of emptiness from the inside out.

He yearned, like a traveler walking in the desert seeing an oasis, and slowly moved his gaze to the ball in someone’s hand.

Possession was now in Joban Middle School’s hands.

Although Akashi Seijuro’s technique was exquisite, his raw skill was still a bit worse than number four’s. The latter had both height and strength, and a forced breakthrough wasn’t difficult.

“You’re only a freshman, right?” number four said casually, “It’s scary how good the juniors are now…”

Akashi didn’t respond. He quickly scanned the court, and suddenly paused at a certain point. Number four, who had been paying attention to his movements, was overjoyed. Facing Akashi’s pressure wasn’t easy, and he had to be extremely careful in choosing what to do next—for some reason, he always felt that the person in front of him could see through his next move.

And now his distraction was a golden opportunity!

He suddenly changed direction and shook off Akashi—the annoying silver hair was blocked by number five and couldn’t chase after him; number six was also firmly suppressing Teiko’s center again; Akashi’s explosiveness wasn’t his strong suit, and he couldn’t keep up with his pace—but.

There’s still one more person?

His nerves worked frantically, and when he realized this, number four charged past the paint, and he was indeed in a no-man’s land, successfully arriving under the basket.

But the basketball that should have been in his hands disappeared.

“Number 12 small forward Kokonoe Taka—! He stole the basketball from number four Omori’s hands with shocking speed! Unbelievable! Joban didn’t react at all!” The commentator’s face was flushed red, and his voice was quickly drowned out by the screams and cheers from all over the stadium. That shot was too perfect, too amazing, almost making people forget that this was just a middle school league. They instinctively realized that they had witnessed a miraculous moment in history.

“Good…” Someone swallowed, “Good shot!”

The sharp lines of his forearm slowly released their strength, returning to a smooth curve. Kokonoe Taka lightly let go and fell from his hanging state.

His palms were slightly sore.

He felt an unprecedented sense of fulfillment. Something that had been missing for a long time was filled in at this moment.

His heart beat fiercely, and the spotlights overhead stung his eyes slightly.

He lowered his hands.

That was an incredibly satisfying “thump” sound.

“Hanging arm dunk!!!” The commentator’s voice was already hoarse, but even so, the screams picked up by the microphone drowned out his shouts in a surge of various sounds. That shot was too perfect, too amazing, almost making people forget that this was just a junior league. They instinctively realized that they had witnessed a miraculous moment in history.

“Good…” Someone swallowed, “Good shot!”

The small arm with sharp lines slowly released its force and returned to its gentle curve. Kokonoe Taka lightly let go and detached from the hanging position, descending.

His palms were slightly sore.

He felt a sense of fulfillment he had never felt before. Something that had been missing for a long time was being satisfyingly filled in at this moment.

His heart was beating hard, and the spotlights overhead stung his eyes slightly.

He lowered his hand!