Slam Dunk: Sakuragi learned from Kawamura Eiki's experience

The June sun made the corrugated iron roof of the basketball court scorching hot.

Sakuragi Hanamichi has been practicing for three hours straight.

Sweat dripped from his chin onto the floor, leaving small water stains on the wooden floor.

The vest was soaked through and clung to my back, and through the fabric I could see the contours of my shoulder blades rising and falling.

Coach Takeda stood on the sidelines, arms crossed, watching Sakuragi practicing against the main lineup, the smile on his face growing wider each day.

Two months ago, this redhead couldn't even dribble. Now…

Sakuragi called for the ball in the low post, stuck out his butt, and blocked the defender behind him.

The ball was passed in from the outside, and the moment he caught it, he felt the pressure behind him; the opponent's center of gravity was pressing down on his left waist.

Instead of turning around, he used a simple baseline turn, easily bypassing the defense in one step, and gently lifted the ball with his right hand before releasing it.

The ball bounced off the backboard and fell into the basket.

The movements weren't particularly graceful, but they were practical.

"Good shot!" Takeda couldn't help but shout.

Sakuragi ran back from under the basket, and as he passed Takeda, his chin was held high and his mouth stretched to his ears.

Takeda smiled and gave a few words of lavish praise.

He'd never seen this kid progress at such a rapid pace in all his years of coaching basketball.

In just two months, he went from zero to being a key player; this cannot be explained by the word "hard work."

Some people are born to do this; their ball control, spatial awareness, and body coordination are things that others might not be able to develop even after two years of practice, but they can achieve in just two months.

And it's not just that he "has" it; he's better than most people who have practiced for two years.

Takeda officially included Sakuragi in the starting lineup. He played the center position.

Oda Ryūsei, the former core ace of the team, played the power forward position.

His height of 182cm gives him an advantage at this position. He is technically versatile, capable of both post-up and face-up play, and has a reliable mid-range shot, making him the team's offensive core.

He used to be a center, but now that Sakuragi has arrived, he's moved to the power forward position, but he hasn't lost any of his ball possession.

Because Sakuragi's presence under the basket is so strong, Oda has more than twice the space he used to have outside the basket.

The inside twin towers formed by Sakuragi and Oda have already shown promising results in practice matches.

Although every time Oda finished playing with Sakuragi, the expression on his face was like that of someone who had eaten an unripe persimmon, sour with a hint of resentment.

Mr. Takeda has been focusing most of his energy on Sakuragi lately, and Sakuragi, who has been the ace for two years, seems to have been sidelined.

During training, Takeda shouted

"Sakuragi, you need to position yourself deeper."

"Sakuragi needs to guard the opponent first before rebounding."

"Sakuragi did that turn and walk again, let's do it again."

It's all Sakuragi, Sakuragi, Sakuragi.

Xiao Tian was dribbling the ball on the side, his ears filled with the teacher's voice.

Are you unhappy?

accurate.

But Oda didn't say anything.

Because Mr. Takeda said that this was his last prefectural tournament in junior high school. He was in his third year, and would be retiring after summer.

This was his last chance in his junior high school basketball career, and he wanted to win and compete for the county championship.

So he passed the ball to Sakuragi.

When passing the ball, he doesn't smile or say a word. The ball is passed to Sakuragi with a "thud," clean and crisp, as if he's completing a task that must be done.

But as the story progressed, he found that Sakuragi's movements were becoming increasingly predictable. Although this guy wasn't very bright, his physical senses were frighteningly good.

He can memorize the same tactics by running them twice and then by the third time.

His positioning under the basket improved day by day. He figured out when to call for the ball, when to pass, and when to shoot himself. No one had taught him these things, but he figured them out on his own during training.

Mr. Takeda stood on the sidelines, watching the two players' teamwork become more and more seamless, and he couldn't hide the satisfaction on his face.

The word "Twin Towers" kept running through his mind.

Heguang Middle School has never had such a high combination of inside players before; you probably can't find another like it in the whole county.

Whoever controls the paint controls the game; this is the truth in basketball of this era.

There aren't that many three-pointers, and not that many complicated tactics. Just pass the ball inside, grab the rebound, and go for second-chance points—simple, brutal, and effective.

Junior high school students' physical abilities are limited; they're lucky if they can even run a pick-and-roll properly, let alone execute complex plays. But anyone can pass the ball to the basket and let a big man finish.

Takeda looked at the schedule posted on the wall; this year, Wako Middle School was in Group C.

Our first opponent is Hongye Junior High School.

He glanced at the information on Hongye Junior High School. Their inside game was relatively weak, and their overall strength was below average; they weren't a strong team. Playing against them in the first game would be a good opportunity to fine-tune the lineup and let the players get a feel for the game.

His gaze moved down and landed on the column for Group A.

Fuqiu Junior High School.

Takeda narrowed his eyes.

At Fuchiu Junior High School, there was a monster in the second year of high school last year. He played small forward, was about the same height as Oda, had a long, thin face, didn't like to talk, and had a blank expression when playing basketball.

But his skills are so refined that it's hard to believe he's a junior high student. Dribbling, driving to the basket, shooting—everything he does is top-notch. Last year, Fuchiu Junior High School made it to the semifinals of the prefectural tournament, and this second-year student averaged over thirty or forty points per game.

What was his name again?

Rukawa Kaede.

His nickname is "The Fox of Fuchiu". When that kid plays, he's unbelievably calm. No matter what's happening on the court, his face always has the same expression—no expression at all.

But his hands speak volumes. Once the ball is in his hands, it's as if it's been enchanted; no matter how he hits it, it always finds its mark.

Takeda recalled watching a Tomioka Junior High game last year, where Rukawa Kaede grabbed a rebound from the backcourt, dribbled up the court, broke through a three-man defense, and then pulled up for a jump shot that swished through the net.

That's not the level a junior high school student should be at.

"The Fox of Fugaku..." Takeda muttered to himself, tapping the schedule twice with his finger.

If Heguang Middle School can advance from Group C and reach the semi-finals, they will face Fuqiu Junior High School.

Take it one step at a time. First, let's take down Hongye Junior High School.

After evening training, Sakuragi stayed in the gym alone to practice extra.

He was the only one left in the stadium. Half the lights were off, while the other half were still on, the incandescent light reflecting off the wooden floor with a faint, old glow.

It was already dark outside the window. In June, it gets dark late, but by seven o'clock, the last ray of light had disappeared from the horizon.

The sound of the ball hitting the floor echoed in the empty stadium.

He then took another 100 running mid-range shots, making 62 of them.

There are three more than yesterday.

He picked up the ball, started running again, stopped abruptly, and took a deep breath.

Raise your arm, tilt your wrist back, and exert force with your fingertips.

The ball arced through the air and swished cleanly into the net.

The sound of the net swaying was particularly crisp in the empty stadium.

Sakuragi reached up and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

The competition is tomorrow.

He glanced at the clock in the corner of the stadium; the hands pointed to 7:13.

Time to go, I still have a job at the convenience store.

Under the same night sky, on the other side of the city.

Yuri Yanai sat at her desk in her bedroom, the light from the desk lamp illuminating a piece of paper in front of her.

Her fingers traced across the paper.

A schedule.

She got the schedule for the county-level junior high school basketball tournament through a friend.

Group C.

Wako Junior High School vs. Hongye Junior High School.

Her finger stopped on that line of text, and she tapped it twice with her fingertip.

In the first match, the opponent of Heguang Middle School was actually her school, Hongye Junior High School.

Yuri Yanai leaned back in her chair, which creaked slightly.

She was still thinking about what excuse she could use to watch the Wako Junior High School game. She couldn't just go and watch the Wako Junior High School game directly, that would be too embarrassing.

it's good now.

It's perfectly natural for her to go watch her own school's team play. No one will think much of it, and no one will find it strange.

All she had to do was sit in the stands and watch the game quietly.

Then... I "accidentally" ran into him in the gymnasium.

A casual greeting.

Saying "by chance" that "What a coincidence, you're here too."

Everything is a coincidence.

perfect.

Yuri Yanai folded the schedule and tucked it into a book on the table.

She reached out and turned off the table lamp.

The room darkened, and the moonlight from outside the window shone through the gaps in the curtains, drawing a thin white line on the floor.

She lay in bed, turned over, and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

The image resurfaced in my mind: a tall man with red hair carrying a cardboard box walking out of a convenience store under a streetlamp.

When she put her arm around mine, I froze on the spot as if I had been struck on a pressure point, my face turning red from my neck to the tips of my ears.

She chuckled softly, but it was clearly audible in the quiet room.

See you tomorrow, you fun-loving big dog!

She said it to herself, then closed her eyes.