Slam Dunk: Sakuragi learned from Kawamura Eiki's experience

At the Shohoku Basketball Gymnasium, a three-on-three intra-squad scrimmage has just ended.

Mitsui Hisashi stood outside the three-point line, bent over, hands on his knees, panting heavily. After two years of neglect, physical fitness was his biggest problem.

The three-on-three sparring practice just now involved Sakuragi, Kogure, and Mitsui as a team.

Akagi, Rukawa, and Miyagi form a group.

Sakuragi's team completely crushed them.

The game was never in doubt from start to finish. Sakuragi was like a wild boar unleashed in the paint, grabbing rebound after rebound.

Akagi was blocked behind him, Rukawa was pushed aside by his body, and Miyagi couldn't even break into the basket.

Offensive rebounds and defensive rebounds—Sakuragi snatched the ball almost every time it bounced near the rim.

Mitsui and Kogure took turns shooting hoops outside. Mitsui would catch the ball and shoot immediately, his release as fast as lightning, the ball arcing high and gracefully before swishing into the net.

Although Kogure wasn't that accurate, he could still make open shots. The ball bounced twice on the rim and rolled in, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Akagi's defense was completely breached. Rukawa was carrying the offense alone, trying to break through, but every time he broke in, he ran into Sakuragi's help defense, either having his pass intercepted or managing to miss a shot.

Miyagi's shooting, which he had been practicing diligently, was still inconsistent, and he was severely restricted by Mitsui. Akagi had been battling Sakuragi in the paint for twenty minutes and was also exhausted.

During breaks, the team members walked to the sidelines in twos and threes, picked up their water bottles to drink water, and wiped their sweat with towels.

Kogure walked to the sidelines, picked up a water bottle, unscrewed the cap, took a sip, and looked at Mitsui's back, unable to help but shake his head.

"After two years of neglect, you still have this level of precision," Kogure's voice wasn't loud, as if he were talking to himself, or perhaps to Yasuda beside him, "Is this the difference between a genius and an ordinary person?"

Standing next to him, Yasuda swallowed hard upon hearing this, remaining silent but feeling a bittersweet mix of emotions he couldn't quite describe.

Sakuragi Hanamichi plopped down on the bench, unscrewed the cap of his water bottle, tilted his head back, and took a big gulp, making gurgling sounds in his throat.

He put down the kettle, turned his head, and looked at Mitsui, who was drinking water next to him.

Mitsui sat at the other end of the bench, holding a water bottle in his hand, sipping it slowly, unlike Sakuragi who guzzled it down.

His breathing had gradually calmed down, but his face was still a little pale. The two-year gap couldn't be made up for in just a few training matches, and his physical fitness was still far behind.

"Hello,"

Sakuragi's tone carried a hint of "This genius is going to praise you, but don't be too touched," as he said, "I didn't expect you to be such a good shooter. Even more accurate than Glasses Guy."

Mitsui glanced at Sakuragi, his water bottle hovering near his lips, but he didn't say anything.

His gaze shifted from Sakuragi to what was behind him.

Yuri Yanai was standing next to Sakuragi, holding a towel in her hand, bending down to wipe Sakuragi's sweat.

Her movements were very natural. She rubbed the towel on Sakuragi's red hair a couple of times, then flipped it over and rubbed it on his hair a couple more times, as if she were wiping a freshly washed dish.

Sakuragi's hair was a mess from being wiped, with a few red strands sticking up like a rooster's comb.

Yanai felt that gaze, but without stopping what he was doing, he turned around and looked at Mitsui while wiping Sakuragi's hair.

"You didn't tell your family about me beating you up, did you?" Yanai asked casually.

Mitsui was drinking water when he heard this, and the water in his throat choked and went into his trachea.

"Cough cough cough..." Mitsui suddenly bent over, one hand covering his mouth and the other hand supporting his knee, coughing until his face turned red.

Several teammates nearby turned to look at them.

Mitsui looked at Yanai, his lips twitching slightly. He lowered his voice so low that only a few people around could hear him: "How could that be? It's embarrassing, okay?"

He can't even beat a woman, so he still has a sense of shame. How could he possibly complain?

Yanai glanced at him for two seconds, then said nothing more and continued to wipe Sakuragi's sweat.

Several first-grade team members stood not far away and heard the conversation clearly.

Their gazes darted back and forth between Yanai and Mitsui, and the scene in the basketball court that day flashed through their minds at the same time: Mitsui was kicked away by Yanai, his whole body flying into the air, his back hitting the floor, sliding half a meter before coming to a stop.

The first-year students exchanged glances and took a half-step back in unison.

Previously, they only thought that Yanai was a beautiful girl who was tall and had a good relationship with Sakuragi.

Now they know that this beautiful girl isn't just pretty; she can also kick a grown man flying with one kick. And afterwards, she can chat with people while smiling, as if nothing happened.

Ayako walked in, holding a piece of paper in her hand. She went to the bulletin board by the court, stuck the paper on the wall, pressed the four corners flat, took two steps back, and put her hands on her hips.

"Come and take a look, everyone! The schedule for the county tournament preliminaries has been posted!" Ayako's voice was clear and bright, carrying an invigorating energy.

Everyone put down their water bottles and towels and crowded around the bulletin board.

Ayako stood next to the bulletin board, tapped the schedule twice with her pen, and read it aloud in a clear voice.

"May 19th, the prefectural tournament preliminary round. We were assigned to the bottom left B section, and our first opponent was... Miura Dai."

As soon as the name "Miura Dai" was mentioned, the second-year team members exchanged glances. Miura Dai wasn't a top-tier team, but they weren't pushovers either; they had a decent record in last year's prefectural tournament and were quite capable.

Ayako's pen traced a line down the paper as she continued, "Four consecutive wins to reach the quarterfinals. And then..."

She paused, then looked up at everyone.

"Our opponent in the semifinals is last year's runner-up, Shohoku."

Xiangyang. These two words were like two stones thrown into water; the splash wasn't big, but the ripples spread out in circles, and everyone's expression subtly changed.

Akagi's expression didn't change much. Kogure glanced at him, and there was no tension in Akagi's eyes, only a heavy seriousness.

If you want to enter the national competition, you'll have to face Shoyo sooner or later.

It's only a matter of time.

Akagi turned around to face everyone, his gaze sweeping across each person's face.

"Alright, let's continue training. Cheer up."

"We need to become stronger before the county competition."

The players dispersed and returned to the court. The basketball was retrieved from the hoop and bounced on the floor, the thumping sound starting again, turning from a few scattered thumps into a dense drumbeat.

Mitsui walked to the three-point line, bent down to pick up a ball, dribbled it twice, slightly bent his knees, flicked his wrist, and the ball drew a high arc, swishing into the net with a "swish," the net flipping upwards.

Sakuragi and Akagi were battling for position inside, their bodies colliding with a dull thud. Sakuragi arched his back, but Akagi didn't budge. Sakuragi arched again, but Akagi still didn't move. Sakuragi gritted his teeth and arched a third time with all his might. Akagi took a half-step back, but his hand was already outstretched, trapping Sakuragi behind him.

"Again!" Sakuragi roared, circled around to Akagi's front, and blocked his position again.

Rukawa was doing strength training at the other end of the court, while Miyagi was practicing shooting at the free throw line.

The calendar pages turned one by one. The May wind blew in through the window, and the date of the county competition preliminaries drew closer day by day.