Slam Dunk: Sakuragi learned from Kawamura Eiki's experience

The referee stood in the center circle with his whistle in his mouth and the ball in his right hand.

Sakuragi Hanamichi stood at the jump ball position, knees slightly bent, arms raised, eyes fixed on the ball in the referee's hand.

My heart is beating very fast.

Thump, thump, thump, thump... It felt like someone was drumming inside my chest, hitting my ribs again and again.

His throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

The surrounding sounds suddenly seemed very distant. The noise from the stands, the shouts of teammates, and the footsteps of the opposing players all sounded as if separated by a layer of water, indistinct and blurry.

He could only hear his own heartbeat and his own breathing. His body was a little stiff, his shoulders were tense, the muscles in his arms were hard, and the angle of his knees was not quite right; he always felt like something was stuck.

He cursed himself inwardly, "Why am I so nervous?"

Then a picture suddenly flashed through my mind.

The stadium in my dream. A huge arena, bright lights, and densely packed stands.

Kawamura Eiki sat on the bench, his hands supporting his body on either side, his heels tapping the floor repeatedly, watching the players on the field with longing on his face.

His expression was one of longing to play, his eyes fixed on the field, not looking away for even a second.

Garbage time. In the final minutes, the score difference had become too large to be overcome. The coach called his name, he stood up, took off his warm-up uniform, and walked onto the court.

Only a few minutes.

It might even only last a few tens of seconds.

But he gave it his all. Dribbling, sprinting, defending—he fought for every ball, every run was like a 100-meter dash.

When Sakuragi saw him in his dream, he thought the guy was stupid. Why fight when the game was already lost? But Kawamura Eiki in the dream didn't care. What he cared about were those few minutes, those few seconds, every moment he spent on the court.

Sakuragi's breathing steadied.

My shoulders relaxed, my knees were at the right angle, and my palms were no longer damp. The stiffness, like smoke blown away by the wind, gradually disappeared from my fingertips and toes.

He looked up, his gaze passing through the referee's hand, through the ball, and landing on the opposite basket.

The referee blew the whistle, flicked his wrist, and tossed the ball high into the air. The orange ball spun under the lights, rising to its highest point before beginning to fall.

Sakuragi pushed off the ground with his toes the instant the ball began to fall, launching himself into the air. His body stretched out in the air, his right arm raised high, fingers spread, reaching for the ball.

It was as fast as a red lightning bolt.

The opposing center had just jumped, his toes barely off the ground, when a shadow fell over his head.

Sakuragi's fingertips touched the ball. He flicked it to the left, sending it precisely towards his teammate Akiyama, who caught it.

Meanwhile, the center forward from Hongye Junior High School had just reached the highest point of his jump.

The entire stadium erupted in uproar. With that jumping height, the opposing center looked like he was being slowed down in front of that red-haired guy.

Sakuragi landed, the sound of his feet hitting the wooden floor drowned out by the gasps of the audience. He didn't stop; with a bend of his knees and a spring in his step, he sprinted forward like a slingshot.

The white jersey clung to his body in the wind, and his red pompadour was tilted backward against the wind.

Before the players from Hongye Junior High School could even retreat, he had already driven to the basket, sticking out his buttocks and spreading his arms to completely block the pursuing defenders.

We've reached our spot.

Akiyama controlled the ball steadily, crossing half-court. He wasn't a star player; his ball control was solid, and his passing was accurate—that was enough.

He saw Oda asking for the ball at a 45-degree angle on the left, and made a bounce pass. The ball bounced once on the floor and landed precisely in Oda's hands.

Oda receives the ball, faces the basket, glances to the left, shifts the defender's weight, and Oda immediately breaks to the right, covering half a body length in one step.

But Hongye Junior High School was prepared.

The defender on the left immediately abandoned his own position and rushed over to double-team him.

The two players, one on the left and one on the right, sandwiched Xiaotian in the middle, compressing his dribbling space to almost nothing.

On the sidelines, the coach of Hongye Junior High School crossed his arms and smiled confidently.

He had studied Wako Junior High School. The core of that team was Oda, who controlled most of the ball possession. If they could double-team him, Wako Junior High School's offense would be crippled.

As for others, he didn't think anyone could step forward.

Then his smile froze.

The moment Xiaotian was double-teamed, he didn't force a breakthrough or take a shot. Instead, he casually tossed the ball to the right side of the basket with his right hand.

"Sakuragi!"

Sakuragi heard Oda's shouts.

His gaze locked onto the trajectory of the ball in the air, his body began to move instinctively, his knees bent slightly, his feet adjusted their position, he moved half a step to the left, and then he jumped up suddenly.

That jump left everyone in the stadium speechless.

His body rose straight up, his white jersey billowing under the lights, his red hair almost touching the rim at the highest point.

Yohei and the other three experienced an auditory hallucination.

It felt like an airplane was taking off from the runway, with the roar of its engines following.

Sakuragi, in mid-air, raised his right hand high, fingers spread, and caught the ball steadily.

The inertia in the air carried him forward, and his waist and abdomen suddenly contracted, transmitting core power from his abdomen to his arms, causing his whole body to twist in mid-air.

Then he slammed the ball into the basket.

With a loud "bang!", the entire basketball hoop suddenly sank down.

The ball went through the net, bounced twice on the floor, and rolled out of bounds.

The entire stadium fell silent; the hundreds of people in the arena instantly became a vacuum. No one spoke, no one moved, and no one even blinked.

Then, it exploded.

"An alley-oop! That's an alley-oop!"

Have you ever seen a middle school student do an alley-oop dunk?

"Who is that red-haired guy?"

"Wako Junior High School! Number 15! How high did he jump just now?"

The audience erupted in gasps, screams, and applause, like a flood bursting its banks, pouring down from every corner of the stands.

Several boys jumped up from their chairs in excitement, pointing at the court and shouting.

This is a junior high school basketball game. There are very few people who can dunk; you can count them on one hand.

But an alley-oop dunk is something from another dimension.

For most junior high school students, alley-oop dunks only exist in NBA reports in basketball magazines; they are the kind of "scenes that only appear on TV."

Now, this scene is playing on the junior high school basketball court in the county gymnasium.

The bench of Wagwang Middle School exploded.

The players on the bench all jumped up, tossing their towels in the air. Coach Takeda stood on the sidelines, his mouth slightly open, forgetting to close it.

He knew Sakuragi could dunk, he knew Sakuragi had a good jumping ability, but he witnessed it firsthand in the first round of a real game, on the very first attack.

After coaching basketball for so many years, this is the first time he feels like he doesn't have enough eyes to see everything.

In the stands, Yuri Yanai looked at the red figure on the court, one arm hanging on the rim, and felt something hit her chest.

It's an indescribable feeling, like your heart is being gently held by a hand, then released, and your heartbeat changes rhythm.

Her gaze was fixed on Sakuragi, unable to look away.

Sakuragi, hanging on the basketball hoop, let go and fell back to the ground, his foot landing on the wooden floor with a dull "thud".

His red hair shone brightly under the lights, and his white number 15 jersey fluttered slightly. He turned around, his gaze instinctively sweeping towards the stands.

From the stands, Yuri Yanai was watching him.

Their gazes met across the entire stadium.

Sakuragi's lips curled into a wide grin, a triumphant, smug look with a hint of arrogance.

Until Xiaotian ran over and slapped him on the back.

"Back up!"

Sakuragi said "Oh," and turned to run back.