Kuroko: Mahoraga - Chapter 36: Padding Stats Against Weak Teams? (Patreon)

Once Fujii was confirmed as their opponent, Coach Nakamura was actually the most unsettled person on the team.

He had simply hidden it well enough before the game that no one noticed.

It was not because he was worried about his players’ performance.

On the contrary, with Masato on the team, he felt fairly reassured.

The real reason was a personal grudge.

He and Fujii’s coach went way back.

When they were younger, both of them had been athletes and had even played on the same team.

But they had never gotten along.

They clashed over almost everything.

Eventually, both retired and became coaches.

That only led to several more years of quiet competition between them.

It was not until the last few years that their rivalry finally began to cool off.

The reason was simple. Masaki Nakamura had fallen behind.

He had bounced between several teams over the years without much success, to the point where he was no longer considered a worthy rival.

His old opponent had become the head coach of a powerhouse program.

Meanwhile, Nakamura was stuck drifting along with a third-rate team.

That enormous difference in status was exactly what had left him so unsettled before the game.

Especially after his old rival had deliberately walked over to provoke him just moments ago.

Nakamura knew it was probably nothing more than a bit of gamesmanship meant to get under his skin and disrupt his decisions during the game.

Even so, it had worked. He had let it affect him.

After taking a deep breath, Nakamura gradually regained his composure.

He knew there was no point dwelling on it. This game was what mattered.

In competitive sports, results spoke louder than anything else.

It did not matter who you were or how impressive your résumé looked.

Basketball never lied.

Nakamura looked toward Masato, who was warming up on the court.

His nerves settled at once, and he found himself eager for the game to begin.

...

A little over ten minutes later, even more spectators had filled the stands.

Warm-ups were over.

As the referees took the court, both starting lineups returned to the floor.

Kawari lost the opening tip.

Masato had expected as much. Their center was as reliably bad at jump balls as ever.

He was not in any hurry, though. The game had only just started.

Basketball was different from a lot of other sports. There was plenty of time over the course of a full game.

Fujii attacked immediately after gaining possession.

They tried to catch Kawari before its defense was fully set.

It worked.

After several quick passes, a Fujii player finished with a layup and scored the first points of the game.

That first possession alone was enough to show how well they worked together.

Their players were all solid, clearly a level above the opponents Kawari had faced in its previous games.

Fujii’s organized cheering section responded with a loud cheer from the stands.

The game had only just begun, and the rest of the arena had not really come alive yet.

For a moment, Fujii’s supporters were the only people making any noise.

Judging by the sound of them, anyone who did not know better might have thought Fujii had already won.

Masato raised an eyebrow.

They were certainly fired up.

He did not care that Fujii had scored first.

Basketball was not soccer. Over the course of a full game, the other team was going to score.

He did not have the same kind of obsession with perfection as the Generation of Miracles.

Masato took the inbound pass and began bringing the ball up the court.

His defender did not retreat into the half court.

Instead, he picked Masato up full court.

He kept leaning into him physically as well, constantly looking for a chance to steal the ball.

But defense at that level was no threat to Masato.

He barely even needed his off arm to protect the ball.

He simply continued forward at his usual pace.

The gap between their individual ability was already obvious.

His defender did not seem to realize it.

If anything, he started talking trash while crowding Masato.

“Hey, I heard you transferred to Kanagawa from Teiko.”

“You crushed a few weak teams, padded your stats, and suddenly everyone’s talking about you.” The boy wore a mocking smile as he sneered. “Now that you’re playing us, you won’t get to pad your numbers anymore!”

Nearly every game lately seemed to come with a few idiots eager to provoke him.

Masato was almost speechless.

He understood that athletes were competitive by nature.

But did they really have to be this stupid about it?

He had very little patience for stupidity, and there was only one proper way to deal with someone like this.

Crush him completely and make him shut up.

Once Masato crossed half court, he stopped taking his time.

A quick between-the-legs dribble sent him driving left.

The move was simple and gave away nothing beforehand.

To the spectators, it almost looked as though he had casually strolled past his defender.

As Masato entered the lane, Fujii’s help defense rotated over immediately.

He beat the next defender with another clean crossover.

In an instant, he was through the defense and into the paint as if no one were there.

Then he rose high and slammed the ball through the rim.

“BOOM!!!”

Masato hung on the rim for a split second before dropping back to the floor.

The entire sequence had been smooth from beginning to end, without a trace of wasted movement.

His technique was so clean that it almost made basketball look as though it was supposed to be this simple.

That single possession was enough to capture the crowd’s attention.

A wave of amazed voices rose from the stands.

“Damn, Masato’s good!”

“Yeah, look at the way he plays. Everything is so clean and decisive!”

“Why does it feel like Fujii isn’t even defending him seriously?”

“They’re defending him. They just can’t stop him!”

“...”

The game had only just started, so the atmosphere inside the arena had not reached its peak yet.

But after Masato’s dunk, the crowd was clearly beginning to heat up.

Masato paid no attention to the defender he had just beaten.

He simply turned and ran back to his own half.

When Fujii came down with the ball again and the same player ended up in front of him, Masato finally noticed how ugly the boy’s expression had become.

That was understandable.

He had finished talking big only moments ago and immediately gotten embarrassed.

Masato thought that might finally make him settle down.

“I just got careless. I’m getting that one back!”

The boy stared at Masato with complete seriousness.

From his tone, he genuinely believed it.

He still thought he was better than Masato.

At that point, there was nothing left to say. They would settle it with basketball.

The guard attacked off the dribble.

He was quick, and his fundamentals were solid.

As expected from the starter of a strong team, he really did have some ability.

A player at his level could have started for plenty of schools.

Against Masato, though, it was nowhere near enough.

Masato deliberately let him get past.

The guard thought he had won the matchup.

As he gathered to finish, a smile had already appeared on his face.

Then a large hand came down from behind him.

It ripped the ball cleanly out of his raised hands.

A snatch block.

The guard froze, his smile still stuck on his face as he tried to understand what had happened.

By the time he turned around, Masato had already started the fast break and scored again.

Two possessions were all it took for Masato to seize control of the game’s rhythm.

A few more exchanges later, the confidence and arrogance on his defender’s face had disappeared completely.

The atmosphere inside the arena grew even hotter.

On the sideline, Fujii’s coach watched with a dark expression.

He had studied Kawari before the game.

His conclusion had been simple. If Fujii wanted to win, all they had to do was contain Masato.

And so far, the game was proving him right.

He glanced toward his old rival, Masaki Nakamura.

He could not help thinking that the man really did have incredible luck.

Then he signaled for a timeout.

As both teams headed toward their benches, Masato glanced at the player who had been guarding him.

The boy looked miserable, yet there was also a trace of relief on his face now that he finally had a chance to breathe.

Those few possessions had made the gap between them painfully clear.

He was already regretting all the trash talk from the opening minutes.

His face felt hot with embarrassment.

He knew Masato was looking at him, but he did not dare meet his eyes.