Slam Dunk: Sakuragi learned from Kawamura Eiki's experience

In the convenience store, Sakuragi stood behind the checkout counter, his eyes fixed on the small television.

The TV is replaying Game 6 of the NBA Finals, between the Chicago Bulls and the Los Angeles Lakers.

The game was in its final moments, with the Bulls in the lead. The Lakers were using fouling tactics, taking free throws, getting rebounds, and hearing the whistle. Then the camera cut to the awards ceremony.

Michael Jordan held the championship trophy, his eyes welling up with tears. He raised the trophy above his head, and his teammates surrounded him, cheering excitedly.

Yellow ribbons floated down from the ceiling, like a golden rain, landing on the players' shoulders, heads, and the field.

As Sakuragi watched that scene, his heart felt even heavier.

Jordan won the championship. After so many years of hard work, he finally won the title.

And what about me? In the semi-finals of the county competition, because my shoes were broken, that fox won.

"After so many years of hard work, Jordan finally won the championship."

The convenience store owner's voice carried a sentiment that only someone who had watched football for many years could have.

"He's been in the NBA for seven years. For the first few years, he was always dominated by the Pistons. If you can't beat them, you just can't beat them. But he didn't give up. He trained and played year after year, and this year he finally turned the tide."

The shop owner turned to look at Sakuragi, a gentle smile on his lips. "Sakuragi, you only lost one game. Jordan lost for years. Look at him now, isn't he at the top?"

As Sakuragi watched the bald man holding the trophy on TV, the tightness in his chest slowly eased a little.

It was time to leave work. Sakuragi took off his work apron, folded it neatly, and placed it under the cashier's counter. He pushed open the glass door, the wind chimes rang once, and the night air rushed in, carrying that warm feeling unique to June.

He walked out of the convenience store and was about to head home when he caught a glimpse of a figure at the alleyway next door.

The figure stood against the wall, wearing a dark blue sailor uniform with a neatly tied scarf. The skirt reached just to the knees, revealing a section of smooth calves.

Her hair fell over her shoulders, the ends slightly curled, swaying gently in the night breeze. She was holding a shoebox in her arms.

The streetlight shone on her face from the side, outlining her defined jawline and slightly upturned corners of her mouth.

Yanai Yuri.

Sakuragi's eyes lit up instantly, and he was about to greet her, but then he remembered the game from two days ago, the torn cloth shoe, and the image of his teammates rushing to Rukawa after he made the game-winning shot. He had lost the game in front of the girl he liked.

Sakuragi took a half step back, turned his body slightly to the right, hunched his shoulders, and pointed his toes toward home.

He was preparing to run away; he was afraid of failing and facing the girl he liked.

But before he could take a step, his left arm was gently embraced.

That softness wasn't something that bumped into him; it was something that pressed against him and then slowly tightened, like someone wrapping his arm in a warm ball of cotton.

He could feel the warmth of her fingers, pressed against his skin through the thin fabric of her T-shirt, five dots like five warm pebbles on his arm.

Sakuragi's brain completely short-circuited for a moment. His pupils dilated sharply, his mouth opened slightly, but he couldn't utter a single word.

Blood rushes from the heart to the whole body at three times the normal speed, first reaching the face, starting from the base of the neck and reddening upwards, past the chin, past the cheeks, past the ear tips, and down to the hairline on the forehead.

Yuri Yanai looked up at Sakuragi.

The light from the streetlamp fell into her eyes, revealing her light brown pupils, like diluted honey, somewhat transparent under the light.

"The match the day before yesterday..." Her voice was gentle. "You lost not because of your skill level, Hanamichi. It was just an accident. Your shoes broke, that's why you lost."

She tightened her grip on Sakuragi's arm.

"In my eyes, Sakuragi-kun is the best."

When she said this, her tone was very calm, without exaggerated surprise or deliberate encouragement.

It was as if she were saying something she truly believed, something that didn't need proof.

His eyes were fixed on Sakuragi, without flinching or hesitation. His gaze was like a hand, gently pressing on the still throbbing spot on Sakuragi's chest, suppressing the pain, and then slowly rubbing it away.

Sakuragi felt a lump in his throat. He sniffed hard, his lips moved, and his voice was a little hoarse, as if there was a layer of paste in his throat. "Really?"

"Really." When Yanai said those two words, the corners of her mouth curved up a little wider.

Sakuragi's lips began to curl upwards. The smile started at the corners of his mouth and slowly spread across his entire face. His eyes narrowed, his nose wrinkled, and the flesh on his cheeks squeezed together, like a flower slowly unfolding in the spring breeze.

He raised his right hand, scratched the back of his head, and ran his five fingers through his red hair in a clumsy manner, like a primary school student who had just been praised by his teacher.

Looking at his beaming face, Yanai sighed softly to herself. He really is so naive and easy to please.

Three words, a smile, a hug—and he melted away like snow warmed by the sun, inside and out.

No need for fancy words or expensive gifts, just a simple "You're the best" is enough for him to believe it, smile, and forget all his previous frustration.

The two walked side by side down the street at night. Streetlights swept overhead one after another, casting alternating light and shadow on them.

A night breeze blew by, and the sound of cicadas came from the trees by the roadside, in waves, like someone playing a violin out of tune in the distance.

"Oh, by the way, a high school basketball coach came to see me today." Sakuragi's tone carried an excitement of "I have good news to tell you."

Yanai turned her head to look at him, her eyebrows twitching slightly. "The high school basketball coach?"

"From Ryonan High School, his name is something like Taoka."

Sakuragi pulled that name from his memory. "He told me to go to Ryonan High School and join their basketball team. He said Ryonan was a strong team, capable of playing in the prefectural tournament and even the national tournament."

When he said the words "National Competition," his voice unconsciously rose a little, and his eyes blazed with fighting spirit again.

Yanai slowed her pace.

Ryonan. A private school. It was as if someone had turned a page in her memory. Her family had already planned for her to attend Ryonan after graduating from junior high school.

She had never seriously considered it; to her, it didn't matter which school she went to. But now things are different.

"Ryonan." Yanai's voice was soft, as if he were talking to himself, or as if he were confirming something. "What a coincidence, I'll most likely go to Ryonan to study in the future."

Sakuragi stopped in his tracks. He turned around, his eyes wide, his mouth agape, his pupils reflecting the light of the streetlamp and Yanai's face.

"Doesn't that mean we can go to the same school? Go to school together?"

Yanai nodded, her movements subtle but firm, as she watched him nearly jump for joy.

The two walked for a while longer. The shops on both sides of the street were closed, their roller shutters pulled down, and the sheet metal gleamed coldly under the streetlights.

Occasionally a car would pass by, its headlights sweeping across, casting the shadows of the two people onto the road ahead, before disappearing again.

Yanai stopped walking. Sakuragi stopped as well and turned to look at her.

She took the shoebox out of her arms. She had carried the shoebox all the way, and she handed it to Sakuragi.

"Here, this is a gift for you."

"Gift?"

Sakuragi lowered his head, looking at the shoebox that Yanai handed him. His brain short-circuited again. He took the shoebox, and the moment his fingers touched the paper, he felt the warmth of her hand still lingering on the box.

He opened the shoebox, revealing a pair of white basketball shoes. The uppers were pure white, the soles were thick, and there were blue accents. The shoes lay quietly in the shoebox.

Sakuragi felt something welling up in his chest, stuck in his throat, unable to be swallowed or spit out.

The feeling was something he couldn't describe, something he had never experienced before. It was like someone had gently pressed the softest spot in his heart.

His eyes reddened. Tears slid from the corners of his eyes, streaming down his cheeks, over his chin, and dripping onto the edge of the shoebox. He sniffed hard.

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, but the tears kept flowing. So he stopped wiping and just let the tears flow, his mouth stretched wide, smiling like a chrysanthemum soaked by rain.

This was the first time in his life he had received a gift from a girl.

He looked down at the pair of white sneakers, his fingers lightly tracing the surface. The material was smooth and soft, carrying the distinctive leather scent of new shoes.

He closed the shoebox, hugged it tightly to his chest, so tightly that the corners of the box dug into his skin. He was afraid it would fall, afraid someone would steal it, afraid it was just a dream, something that would be gone when he woke up.

Yanai stood in front of him, watching him cry, watching him laugh, watching him hug the shoebox as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

She didn't speak, didn't offer him a tissue, and didn't say "Don't cry." She just stood there, a very faint smile on her lips, looking at him.

"Go for it, Sakuragi-kun!" She waved her hand, her fingers slightly spread, and gently shook them twice in front of her.

Then she turned around, started walking, and went in the opposite direction.

Her figure grew farther and farther away, smaller and smaller, until it finally blended into the night, with only the faint clatter of her heels on the sidewalk still audible.

Sakuragi stood there, holding the shoebox, looking in that direction. The streetlights shone down from above, casting his shadow on the ground. The square shoebox in his arms contained the best gift he had ever received.

He glanced down at the shoebox in his arms, then looked up in the direction she had disappeared. He turned around, clutching the shoebox tightly, and walked towards home.