Slam Dunk: Sakuragi learned from Kawamura Eiki's experience

Chapter 158 Sannoh Coach: We really have no other options!

The night breeze in Hiroshima carries a salty, damp smell and blows slowly from the direction of the sea.

Akagi Takenori and his two companions walked to a small bridge under a street lamp, where Akagi stopped and leaned against the bridge railing.

"I remember it very clearly," Akagi said, breaking the silence.

"When I was in fifth grade, I used the pocket money I had saved up for half a month to buy my first basketball magazine."

The magazine cover featured Sannoh Industrial. What impressed me most were those eight characters—

The undefeated champion, Sannoh Kōjō!

That cover had such a profound impact on me that defeating Sannoh became a hurdle I had to overcome to conquer the entire nation.

Mitsui Hisashi leaned against the other side of the bridge railing. After hearing Akagi's words, he paused for a second, then burst out laughing.

"What a coincidence."

Mitsui, hands in his gym pockets, shrugged. "The first basketball magazine I ever bought had Sannoh on the cover. Back then, I thought I wanted to stand taller than them. I was really ambitious as a kid."

Akagi turned to look at him, his dark face showing little change in expression, but a hint of surprise in his eyes.

"Did you buy this when you were in elementary school?"

"Nonsense." Mitsui snorted. "Back then, many people around me said I had great basketball talent. I thought I was amazing. When I saw that the magazines were full of reports about Sannoh, I felt resentful and wondered why these guys deserved so much coverage."

He looked up at the few sparse stars in the Hiroshima night sky.

"Later I gradually understood, and realized that they were indeed strong."

Akagi continued, "Sometimes I fantasize about making it to the national tournament."

Every time I come home after practice at night and can't fall asleep in bed, I close my eyes and imagine myself on the court during the national tournament.

The rival in my mind is always Sannoh Industrial.

Mitsui tilted his head and looked at him, teasingly asking, "Gorilla, how did your simulation go? Did you fantasize about dominating the battlefield, scoring fifty points all by yourself, and utterly crushing Sannoh?"

Akagi turned his face and looked at Mitsui intently.

"The simulation results? A loss every time."

Mitsui's smile froze.

"Since I truly understood football in high school, I've practiced countless times."

Akagi's voice remained calm yet filled with emotion: "I lose every single time. Sometimes I lose by ten points, sometimes by twenty, and sometimes by thirty."

Every time I tell myself I must win this time, the image in my mind just doesn't go as I imagine.

He leaned against the railing, looking up at the night sky.

"Later I realized that it was because I had never seen what the stadiums at the national tournament looked like that I lacked confidence even in my imagination."

Kogure remained silent, listening quietly to their conversation.

But images were flashing rapidly through his mind.

I first met Akagi in my first year of junior high school. At that time, Akagi was already over 1.8 meters tall, like a moving mountain among his peers, but he wasn't even good at dribbling.

Nobody wanted to team up with Akagi. Everyone thought he was too slow, too clumsy, and too prone to making mistakes.

Only Kogure was willing.

It wasn't because Kogure had any great foresight, but he felt that this big guy would stay on the court alone after every training session, practicing the most basic dribbling moves over and over again, his sweat soaking the floor, and he still wouldn't leave.

If someone is willing to put in such effort, they at least deserve to be taken seriously.

Then in high school, they both joined the Shohoku basketball team.

In the first year, Mitsui was also there, and everyone was full of confidence, but with Mitsui's injury and withdrawal, they were eliminated in the first round of the prefectural tournament qualifiers.

The following year, Akagi had grown into a towering 197cm tall man, and his dominance in the paint was beginning to emerge. However, his teammates were too poor; he couldn't pass the ball in, couldn't make shots from the outside, and his defense was riddled with holes.

They were eliminated in the second round after facing Ryonan.

That night, Akagi sat alone in a corner of the basketball court, neither crying nor speaking. Kogure walked over and sat down next to him.

The two of them sat in the darkness for a long time.

From junior high to high school, it takes six years.

Six years of shuttle runs, sliding steps, and rebounding practice. Six summers spent sweating profusely in the sweltering gymnasium, and winters spent running laps around the track in the freezing wind.

These images flashed through Kogure's mind, as quickly as a videotape being fast-forwarded.

After taking a deep breath, Kogure said confidently, "I have a lot of confidence in tomorrow's match."

Mitsui and Akagi turned to look at him at the same time, their eyes filled with surprise.

Kiminobu Kogure was never the most talkative one at Shohoku. He was gentle, rational, and the lubricant of the team, but rarely expressed strong emotions.

So when he said the words "very strong confidence," even Akagi, who had known him the longest, was taken aback.

Mitsui raised an eyebrow: "Kogure, what did you say?"

Kogure pushed up his glasses, his eyes behind the lenses meeting Mitsui's gaze directly.

"I said, we can win tomorrow!"

"Conquer the Mountain King and dominate the nation."

Mitsui and Akagi stared at each other, and the silence on the bridge lasted for about three seconds.

"Hey, Kogure." Mitsui reached out and patted him on the shoulder. "When did you become so hot-blooded? Did you catch it from spending too much time with Sakuragi?"

"It's not about passion."

Kogure shook his head, his tone remaining calm.

"It's because our Shohoku team is incredibly strong this year."

"Every position is top-notch. Akagi's dominance under the basket, Mitsui's three-point shooting, Miyagi's speed and playmaking—"

He paused for a moment: "Especially those two super freshmen."

Mitsui clicked his tongue.

"Rukawa Kaede, Sakuragi Hanamichi." Kogure's voice held a certainty as he uttered those names. "Rukawa, needless to say, was a recognized genius even in middle school. As for Sakuragi—"

He suddenly laughed.

"He can switch freely between position one and position five. I never even dared to dream of having someone like that."

Mitsui pulled his hands out of his pockets and crossed them over his chest.

"Okay! You're right."

Mitsui's tone was no longer sarcastic. "That kid may be arrogant and deserves a beating, but his basketball talent is truly monstrous."

"Let's go."

Akagi straightened up. "I need to get some rest; we have a match tomorrow."

At the same time, in the hotel room where Sannoh Industrial was staying, the television screen had been playing a recording of Shohoku's game for three hours straight.

The county-level competition is against Lingnan, Hainan. The national competition is against Aihe and Boda University of Commerce.

On the screen, Sakuragi Hanamichi is backing down Maki Shinichi, Hainan's ace player.

He dribbled, backed down his defender, drove into the paint, turned, and jumped. Maki Shinichi was pushed back half a step and could only watch the ball go in.

In the next scene, Sakuragi is protecting the rim under the basket. He's defending the paint, going head-to-head with Takasago.

Kawada pursed his lips into a thin line and turned to look at Sawakita Eiji sitting next to him.

Zebei leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Kawada had known Sawakita for two years. He had seen Sawakita yawn with a bored expression after scoring forty points in the national tournament.

I've seen him say "Nothing special" with a blank expression during media interviews.

I've seen him easily break through all his teammates' defenses during training, then lazily toss the ball into the basket.

But he had never seen him with such an expression before. It was a look that was a mixture of excitement and seriousness in his eyes. Kawata Masashi couldn't help but say, "Sawakita, you, the number one high school student in all of Japan," may have met a real challenge.

Zebei finally turned his head. There was no smile on his face, but two flames were burning deep in his eyes.

"That's what makes it interesting."

Zebei's voice wasn't loud, but it was very confident. "I never expected to encounter such a master in Japan before I went to America."

"Tomorrow, I'm going to give it my all."

Kawada nodded and turned his gaze back to the screen.

The video continues playing. The scene cuts to the second half of the Shohoku vs. Hakata Commercial High School game.

Sakuragi Hanamichi received the ball at the top of the arc, faced two defenders, broke into the penalty area, and faced the opposing center who was covering for him.

He jumped and made a backhand motion in mid-air. The ball floated over his opponent's fingertips and swished through the net.

Kazunari Fukatsu frowned deeply.

As the captain and playmaker of Sannoh, his basketball IQ and composure are renowned in high school basketball. But at this moment, he could feel his heart beating much faster than usual.

It wasn't out of fear, but because he was frantically simulating in his mind: if he played point guard, how should I defend against him?

The answer is — it's impossible to defend against.

The video finally finished playing, and no one spoke; the silence lasted for a long time.

"alright."

Goro Domoto stood up from the corner and turned off the television.

Let me give you a tactical analysis.

Takenori Akagi, 197 cm tall, center.

Domoto tapped the chess piece representing Akagi with a marker. "Strong in offense and defense under the basket, but has one obvious weakness."

"Insufficient mid-range shooting ability. His threat drops by at least half when he leaves the basket. And—"

Domoto paused for a moment. "His ability to withstand pressure is average. He tends to get impatient in crucial matches, which significantly increases his error rate."

"Ryota Miyagi, 168 cm tall, point guard."

Domoto moves the marker to the next piece.

"Extremely fast, with sharp drives and above-average playmaking ability. However, his height is a fatal weakness. He is naturally at a disadvantage on the defensive end and is easily targeted by tall point guards. His shooting ability is also average."

Kazunari Fukatsu's brow relaxed slightly. A defensive strategy against Miyagi was beginning to take shape in his mind.

The premise is that Sakuragi should play the power forward position properly and not try to take Miyagi's place.

"Mitsui Hisashi, 184 cm tall, shooting guard."

With accurate three-point shooting, outside shooting is a crucial offensive weapon for Shohoku. However, the two-year gap in high school makes physical fitness a weakness, which can be addressed in advance.

Correct.

However, it's important to note that even when his stamina is completely depleted, it doesn't affect his shooting accuracy at all; in fact, it might even increase it.

Matsumoto touched his chin thoughtfully, recalling when he watched the game between Shohoku and Hakata Commercial University, Mitsui was so tired that he could barely stand, yet he still managed to make the shot.

"Rukawa Kaede, 187 cm tall, small forward."

"He has well-rounded skills, a variety of scoring methods, and his one-on-one ability is among the best in high school basketball. But like Mitsui, he has issues with his stamina."

He glanced around at the team members in the conference room.

"Under high-intensity competition, players will clearly run out of energy in the second half. This is a point that can be continuously worn down."

Domoto put down his marker.

"These are the weaknesses of Shohoku's four main players."

The atmosphere in the conference room suddenly became tense, and everyone was waiting for him to say what he would say next.

Everyone knew he had missed one person, but no one spoke up.

Domoto was silent for a moment, then turned around and picked up the last piece from the tactics board.

Magnet number 4 represents Shohoku No. 10.

He held the chess piece in his hand, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he just put the piece back on the whiteboard, in a lonely position, without any markings, circles, arrows, or tactical symbols around it.

That concludes today's analysis.

Domoto's voice remained calm. "Dismissed. Get some rest!"

The Sannoh players got up one after another and filed out of the room.

In Domoto's room, the hands of the wall clock pointed to one in the morning. The lights of Hiroshima outside the window had mostly thinned out, with only a few streetlights shining forlornly.

Domoto sat at his desk, writing and drawing in his notebook.

He drew a circle in his notebook and put the name representing Sakuragi inside it.

Then, around this circle, he drew question marks one after another.

A double team?

Are two players enough? Three? Should we use a zone defense or a full-court press?

Domoto slowly massaged his temples with his fingers.

He has been in the industry for over a decade. He has coached countless players, watched countless matches, and studied countless tactics.

But he had never encountered an opponent who made him feel so "unsolvable".

A player who can play positions 1 through 5. Also a player who can defend positions 1 through 5.

There are no weaknesses.

Strong drives to the basket, mid-range shooting, three-point shooting, drives, post-up play, playmaking, defense, rebounding. And stamina.

Maximize the abilities of all positions.

This cannot be explained by the word "talent." It is something that shatters all cognitive frameworks.

Domoto slowly exhaled, lowered his hand from his temple, and leaned wearily against the edge of the table.

He shook his head helplessly, a bitter smile appearing on his lips.

With over a decade of experience, he has coached the nation's strongest high school team and won countless championships. But he has never truly faced a player he felt was "unsolvable."

The strongest dynasty may need such an opponent to test its mettle.

Or, come and witness the dawn of a new era.

Outside the window, the night in Hiroshima was deep. Not far from the hotel where Sanno was staying, the outline of the Hiroshima Prefectural Stadium was faintly visible in the darkness.

Tomorrow, the final showdown of this year's national competition will take place there.

On one side is Sannoh, the strongest dynasty that has dominated Japanese high school basketball for many years!

On the other side is a dark horse that emerged out of nowhere and crushed all before it.