Slam Dunk: Sakuragi learned from Kawamura Eiki's experience

When the whistle blew to end the first half, the scoreboard showed 39 to 28.

Ho Kwang High School is leading by 11 points.

As soon as the locker room door closed, Mr. Takeda couldn't stop smiling.

"That's it!" His voice echoed in the cramped locker room.

"Sakuragi, Oda, keep controlling the rebounds! Rebounds are our lifeline! As long as we don't lose the rebounds, we can beat Tomioka Junior High and advance to the finals!"

"Alright!" The team members were bursting with fighting spirit.

In the locker room of Fuqiu Middle School, the atmosphere was completely different; it was heavy.

Rukawa Kaede sat in the corner, holding a bottle of water, and took a sip after unscrewing the cap.

Last year, he led his team to the semifinals of the county tournament. This year, his goal is the finals and the championship.

He thought he could do it this year too. His skills were better than last year, he had more experience, and the other team members were more mature than last year.

Then, halfway through, a red-haired man appeared, like a boulder rolling down a mountain, blocking his path between him and the final.

The coach of Fuqiu Middle School stood in the middle of the locker room. He looked at all the data from the first half: points, assists, turnovers, fouls. These were not the issues.

The problem is rebounding. The rebounding statistics are on paper; Fuyuchi Junior High School's rebounding numbers are less than half that of Wako Junior High School.

The coach's gaze swept across every face, finally settling on Rukawa. Rukawa was the only one on the team capable of fighting for rebounds. The others lacked the height, jumping ability, rebounding awareness, and positioning skills.

However, Rukawa Kaede shoulders more than 70% of the team's offensive burden. His stamina is limited; if he also devotes his energy to rebounding, who will finish the offense in the crucial moments of the second half?

The coach opened his mouth as if to say something, but then paused.

"Rukawa," he finally spoke. "In the second half, try your best to help your teammates grab rebounds."

Rukawa Kaede glanced at the coach and nodded.

The second half begins.

Rukawa Kaede is like a completely different player on the defensive end. Before, when he defended, he relied more on positioning and anticipation, playing with his brain and using the least amount of energy to achieve the most effective defense.

Sakuragi positioned himself under the basket, pushing his rear end forward to try and shield Rukawa behind him. Rukawa didn't back down; instead, he rammed his knee between Sakuragi's legs and reached out from the side, using his balance and angle to force Sakuragi aside slightly.

The ball bounced off the rim, and Rukawa jumped up, catching it with both hands.

Rukawa grabbed three consecutive defensive rebounds, each time keeping Sakuragi behind him, compensating for the physical disadvantage with skill and anticipation. Tomioka Junior High's defense stabilized, and the point difference stopped widening.

Sakuragi stood under the basket, feeling somewhat embarrassed and angry. He clearly jumped higher and was stronger, but every time the ball bounced up, Rukawa would block his position first, leaving him behind and only able to watch that hateful number 11 steal the ball.

On the sidelines, Coach Takeda cupped his hands to his mouth, his voice cutting through the noisy arena and directly into Sakuragi's ears.

"Sakuragi...! Watch your positioning! Block your position!"

Sakuragi paused for a moment. He turned his head and glanced at Mr. Takeda.

Positioning.

As Coach Takeda taught me, spread your arms wide, lower your center of gravity, use your body to sense your opponent's position, block them first, and then grab the rebound. It's not about jumping high enough to get the rebound; only those who have secured their position have the right to jump.

Fuqiu Middle School's attack missed again. The ball bounced high off the right side of the rim.

Sakuragi spread his arms wide, like two gates blocking Rukawa's path, his chest pressing up, his buttocks sinking down, his center of gravity lowering below Rukawa's waist.

Rukawa tried to go around to the left, but Sakuragi moved his feet, taking a big step to the side, his body like a moving wall, blocking his way.

Then Sakuragi jumped, raised his hands above his head, and caught the ball steadily at its highest point.

Rukawa jumped behind him, his fingertips still a hand's width away from the ball.

The subsequent matches became a contest of strength and technique.

Rukawa's technique is better; his timing, angle, and technique for positioning are more refined than Sakuragi's. However, Sakuragi's strength is too great, beyond what his technique can compensate for.

Rukawa blocked his position, but Sakuragi pushed him aside from behind and jumped to grab the rebound. Rukawa then tried a different approach, using his knee to brace against Sakuragi's thigh and his arm to entangle Sakuragi's arm, attempting to wear him down through grappling.

Sakuragi didn't care. He jumped up, taking Rukawa's arm with him, and then caught the ball in mid-air with his other hand.

Rukawa's breathing became heavier, and his chest heaved much more than in the first half.

He couldn't beat Sakuragi. It wasn't a technical issue, it was a physical one. Jumping ability, strength, wingspan, second jump speed—he lost in every single one of them.

The point difference steadily widened thanks to Sakuragi's rebounding advantage. Every time Tomioka Middle School missed a shot, Sakuragi grabbed the rebound, giving Wako Middle School another chance to attack.

Every time Tomioka Junior High's offense was disrupted by Sakuragi's defense, the ball bounced out, Sakuragi grabbed the rebound, and Hikari Junior High had another offensive opportunity.

The difference seems to be slowly pushed upwards by an invisible hand.

Halfway through the second half, the scoreboard showed 52 to 34. 18 points.

Coach Taoka sat in the guest seats, arms crossed, his gaze shifting back and forth between Sakuragi and Rukawa, like a collector comparing two works of art.

Rukawa Kaede is a well-rounded player with a variety of offensive skills. He can handle the ball and play off-ball, and he can drive to the basket and shoot. He is a perfect shooting guard or small forward.

Sakuragi's technique is rough and his offensive methods are limited, but his rebounding, defense, and physical talent are the kind of rough gems that are one in a million.

If we were to bring both of them into Ryonan...

Taoka's mind started playing a movie: Sakuragi and Uozumi, the twin towers in the paint, dominating the paint in the national tournament.

The forward-guard duo of Rukawa and Sendoh dominated the perimeter. Fukuda's explosiveness, coupled with the support of other role players, made for a formidable attacking force.

With this lineup, Ryonan is not just aiming to be the county champion; their goal should be the national tournament, a challenge against Sannoh.

Just as Taoka's mind was playing a movie that reached its climax, Sakuragi was positioning himself under the basket and getting entangled with Rukawa.

The ball was shot from the outside, its arc flat, hitting the front edge of the rim and bouncing towards the right side. Sakuragi and Rukawa jumped simultaneously.

Then Sakuragi fell down.

In the stands, Takamiya Nozomi, Okusu, and Noma stood up almost simultaneously. The three of them looked like three radishes that had been pulled up at the same time, leaning forward with their necks stretched out and their eyes wide open.

Yuri Yanai also stood up and looked nervously at the figure lying on the ground.

In a flash, Sakuragi sprang up from the ground with a somersault.

His face was filled with bewilderment, as if wondering "what just happened?" He frowned and looked down at his right foot.

On the right foot, a tear had appeared on the side of the white sneaker.

The tear was large, extending from the edge of the sole to the middle of the upper, like a gaping mouth. White canvas peeked out from the tear, revealing a gray lining and Sakuragi's socks underneath.

Coach Taoka's eyes were wider than at any point in the first half. He leaned forward, craning his neck.

His gaze was fixed on the cracked cloth shoe on Sakuragi's foot, his mouth agape, forgetting to close it.

Sports shoes. This person was wearing the school's standard sports shoes while playing basketball in the semi-finals of the county tournament.

These shoes have soles so thin they offer almost no cushioning, and uppers so soft they provide no support. When you make a sudden lateral stop, your foot will slip inside the shoe, and your knee will bear the full impact when you jump and land.

This guy wore these shoes for three and a half games, dunked a lot, grabbed more than a dozen rebounds, and then the shoes finally gave out.

Taoka slowly leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting from Sakuragi's feet to his face.

He was squatting on the ground, picking at the crack in his shoe with his fingers, looking like a big dog that had discovered a hole in its bowl—confused and innocent.

From the stands, Takamiya Nozomi's voice squeezed out from her throat, shrill and urgent. "Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! Hanamichi's shoes are broken!"

Da Nan stomped his feet beside him. "What do we do?! What do we do?! These are his only pair of sneakers!"

Noma crouched down, clutching his head in his hands. "It's all over, all over, how is he going to play without shoes..."

The three members of Sakuragi's gang were like three cats whose tails had been stepped on, yelling and jumping around in complete chaos.

Yuri Yanai stood in the stands, motionless.

Her gaze fell on Sakuragi, who was squatting on the ground like a child who had done something wrong but didn't know what he had done wrong. He was looking down, his face blank, picking at the crack in his shoe with his fingers.

Something hit her chest hard.

It felt like someone had reached into her chest cavity, grasped her heart, and then gently, slowly squeezed it.

She remembered what he had said.

"I have no family." "I live alone." "I work at a convenience store." "My boss is very nice; he often brings me bread that's about to expire."

Now, seeing him squatting on the court wearing those worn-out cloth shoes, the pain in her heart surged up like a tidal wave, unstoppable.

He lives alone. No one cooks for him, and no one reminds him, "Your shoes are worn out, you should buy a new pair."

He works at a convenience store and doesn't have enough money to buy basketball shoes beyond what he needs to live on. He doesn't even know how much a pair of basketball shoes costs.

He wore the school's standard sports shoes during training and competitions.

Yuri Yanai's eyes welled up with tears. Her nose stung, as if someone had stuffed an unripe plum up her nose. She blinked hard, suppressing the heat.

Her fingers loosened from the back of the chair, slowly hanging down to her sides, where they clenched into fists. Her nails dug into her palms, leaving four deep crescent-shaped marks.

Kato Rena glanced at her but didn't say anything. Kato noticed Yanai's reddened eyes and the white mark on her lips where she had bitten them.

Kato turned back to the field, pretending she hadn't seen anything. But she knew in her heart that this young lady was truly heartbroken.