(PS: Dear readers, it's the National Tournament! After all, these are the champion and runner-up teams from each prefecture, so the pace can't be too fast!
Also, although Gu Jin was a professional player in his previous life, which high school student in the Slam Dunk plot is at a normal high school level?
There are several NBA prototypes... Also, I want to say that the basketball rules of the 90s are still a bit different from now.
Relatively less strict than now, as rules only become more perfect over time.
Most importantly: Thank you to all the big shots who have been following along! Thank you for your support and tolerance!!!
You are the strength that keeps me updating!!!
You are also the source of my confidence and inspiration!!!
I won't say anything else, I'll just kowtow a few times to you first.
Pak! Pak! Pak!
Sorry, I got it wrong.
Again!
Bang! Bang! Bang!)
The second match between Ryonan and Qingfeng began as scheduled, amidst widespread anticipation.
The heat of the arena was more than double that of the first match—the stands were packed, even the highest seats were full, and the aisles were shoulder-to-shoulder. Late-arriving fans could only stand on their tiptoes at the back to get a glimpse.
After all, as an AA-level team that had rapidly risen this year, Ryonan was already an unignorable focal point in the National Tournament. Everyone wanted to see the true caliber of this newly-promoted powerhouse.
In the warm-up area beside the court, the Ryonan Team members were systematically practicing their shots. Fukuda Kiccho repeatedly soared for dunks, drawing cheers from the sidelines.
Meanwhile, on the Qingfeng Team bench, Moriyama Ryota clenched his fists, knuckles white, his gaze fixed on Ryonan's direction, muttering through gritted teeth, “How can someone like Fukuda be a starter? What makes him so special..."
He slammed his fist on the armrest of his seat, his voice full of resentment, “It seems this so-called AA-level team is nothing but an empty name! Today, we, the Qingfeng Team, will personally tear apart your false ranking!”
On the Qingfeng Team bench, Qingfeng Team's head coach, Oda Takeshi, stood in front of the tactics board, sternly laying out strategies to his players.
He wore a sharp suit, his eyes behind his glasses as keen as knives. His finger heavily tapped on the numbers of the Ryonan Team players on the tactics board: “Ryonan's forwards are a weakness. Sakuragi is only a first-year, and Fukuda's defensive gaps are particularly large. Yamazaki, Suzuki, you two focus on attacking his position;
Kato, lock down Sendoh Akira for me, don't let him pass easily; Kimura, your three-pointer is a weapon, take the shot decisively when you find an open space!”
He scanned his players, his voice suddenly rising: “So what if they are AA-level? In my eyes, they are nothing but a paper signboard! Today, let the whole nation see who deserves to stand in the next round of this tournament!”
The Qingfeng Team members responded in unison, their eyes burning with fighting spirit, as if they couldn't wait to tear their opponents apart.
On the other side, in Ryonan's bench area, Taoka Moichi stood in front of the tactics board, circling and drawing with a marker, his voice steady and strong: “Listen carefully, we've pretty much gauged Qingfeng's strength yesterday. There's no need to show all our cards right from the start.”
He looked up at the five starters in front of him—center Uozumi Jun, power forward Sakuragi Hanamichi, small forward Fukuda Kiccho, shooting guard Gu Jin, and point guard Sendoh Akira, who stood slightly to the side. His tone grew even more serious: “This game, we'll play it safe and steady, grinding it out from positional play.”
“Uozumi,” Taoka looked at the team's pillar, “you hold down the fort in the paint. Don't rush to attack, focus on guarding Suzuki's area under the basket, don't give them easy second-chance opportunities.”
Uozumi nodded heavily, clenching his fists.
“Sakuragi,” Taoka's gaze shifted to the red-haired young man, “your rebounding and movement are your advantages. In positional play, pay more attention to boxing out, and don't be reckless when crashing the boards. First, ensure defensive stability.”
Sakuragi patted his chest: “Coach, don't worry, leave it to this genius!”
“Fukuda,” Taoka paused, his tone softening slightly, “at the small forward position, pay attention to staying with Araki. He has a good pull-up jumper, don't give him easy space to shoot. On offense, there's no need to rush your efforts, just focus on connecting plays first.”
Fukuda responded, but his eyes held a hint of eagerness.
“Gu Jin,” Taoka looked at the shooting guard, “your task is to draw attention from the perimeter. Qingfeng's Kimura is a good three-point shooter, focus on guarding him. If necessary, double-team him with Sendoh Akira to cut off his receiving lanes.”
Gu Jin leaned against the wall, hummed in acknowledgment, his fingertips gently tapping his clothes.
Finally, Taoka's gaze fell on Sendoh Akira: “Sendoh Akira, you're playing point guard, the rhythm is yours to control. Don't rush fast breaks, first run the positional play tactics, and only pass the ball once you clearly see Qingfeng's defensive gaps. Remember, what we want is stability, not speed.”
Sendoh Akira smiled and nodded, spinning the basketball in his hand: “Understood, Coach.”
Taoka closed the tactics board, scanning everyone: “Lads, let them see that the weight of an AA-level team isn't just talk. Get on the court!”
The five responded in unison, rising and walking towards the court, their footsteps on the floor steady, as if they were about to take root on this court.
As the referee tossed the ball high, the sharp whistle signaling the start of the game cut through the arena.
Uozumi Jun leaped up, his long arms extending into the air like an iron gate. Qingfeng's center, Suzuki Kakuei, jumped with all his might, but his fingertips only reached Uozumi's forearm—it was an almost undisputed domination, and the basketball was firmly tipped backward by Uozumi.
Sendoh Akira was ready, turning sideways to catch the basketball. His eyes quickly scanned the entire court. Qingfeng's defense had just started, and with a flick of his wrist, he sent a precise long pass to the frontcourt.
Gu Jin darted towards the basket like an arrow released from a bow. He didn't even look at the trailing defender when he caught the ball, pushing off the ground with his feet, his entire body charging towards the hoop like a cannonball.
“You little first-year punk, you won't get away with it!”
Suzuki Kakuei had just returned to defend, and he jumped, aiming for a block!
However, the next second, Gu Jin's right hand, holding the ball, swung up fiercely, his body twisting slightly in mid-air. Over the leaping Suzuki, he slammed the ball into the hoop!
“Bang!”
The basket let out a dull thud, shaking the backboard slightly.
Gu Jin hung on the rim for a moment before letting go and landing. As he landed, he lightly bumped Suzuki, a hint of casual provocation in his eyes.
The entire arena fell silent for half a second, then erupted in thunderous cheers.
Aida Hikoichi jumped high on the sidelines: “Beautiful! Gu Jin, that dunk was too beautiful!”
Coach Taoka, arms crossed, imperceptibly curved his lips into a slight smile.
7 seconds into the game, 2:0!
Meanwhile, on the Qingfeng Team bench, Moriyama Ryota's face instantly flushed crimson, his clenched fists turning white at the knuckles—that dunk just now was clearly aimed at the dignity of their Qingfeng Team's interior defense.
But do the weak have dignity?