Chapter 113: They’re Too Weak
Brown suddenly dropped to his knees, leaving everyone on the Jackets Squad completely stunned.
“Captain! What’s wrong? Why did you suddenly kneel?!”
Brown looked as if his worldview had collapsed. His voice was dull and lifeless as he muttered,
“We can’t win. There’s no way we can win… the Miyamoto Family’s heir…”
Seeing him like this, Marlon and the others immediately realized how serious the situation was. There was only one explanation for why someone like Brown—who possessed extraordinary perception—would end up like this.
The newcomer was terrifyingly strong. Strong enough to completely crush Brown’s will to fight.
Mark and the others all turned toward the Black Emperor Dragon Team.
Miyamoto Tokima slowly stepped out of the car.
He was dressed in a black suit, a faint smile on his face, every bit the image of a refined young noble.
Behind him, Satsuki Momoi emerged in casual clothes, naturally linking her arm with Miyamoto Tokima’s as they walked forward together.
The crowd instantly erupted into excited chatter.
“They’re here! The Miyamoto Family’s heir—his presence really is on another level!”
“That’s his girlfriend, right? Figures. Even the Miyamoto Family heir’s woman is stunning!”
Marlon and the others watched Miyamoto Tokima approach. They could tell that his aura wasn’t as overwhelming as some of the others who had arrived earlier, yet none of them dared to let their guard down.
Brown’s reaction alone made one thing painfully clear—Miyamoto Tokima was the Black Emperor Dragon Team’s true core.
After getting out of the car, Miyamoto Tokima noticed Brown kneeling on the ground and frowned slightly.
“Why is he kneeling?”
Nash Gold was just as confused. He shook his head and shamelessly flattered him. “Probably because he admires you, Tokima-san.”
Miyamoto Tokima rolled his eyes. “You’re really good at sucking up.”
Over on the Jackets’ side.
Marlon and Isaac helped Brown to his feet. Seeing how utterly drained he looked, both of them were deeply worried.
“Do we really still have to play?” Isaac asked nervously. “This is obviously going to be a massacre.”
If everyone already knew it would be a slaughter, then the match itself felt meaningless. Surrendering outright almost seemed like the better option.
Marlon lowered his head, lost in thought. Just then, Brown suddenly spoke, cutting him off.
“We fight. We have to fight.”
Isaac froze. “Captain… why?”
Brown slowly raised his head, his eyes locking onto Isaac with a chilling intensity.
“Idiot. Do you really think… that if we don’t fight… the Miyamoto Family will let us go?”
Isaac felt a wave of cold run through his body under that stare, yet he couldn’t argue back. Brown was right.
If they refused to play, the Miyamoto Family would never forgive them.
At this point, there was only one path left. Even if they knew it would be a slaughter, they had to grit their teeth and see it through.
And they had to give it everything they had. Otherwise, the Miyamoto Family would take it as disrespect.
With no other choice, Brown forced himself to calm down and began warming up.
When the spectators saw that both teams were present and preparing, discussions immediately broke out.
“Who do you think will win?”
“Obviously the Black Emperor Dragon Team. Do we even need to ask? That’s the Miyamoto Family—pro players would kill for a chance to play for them!”
“Not necessarily. The Jackets are one of the strongest streetball teams around here.”
A white spectator voiced a different opinion, but the moment the words left his mouth, countless stares locked onto him.
He immediately panicked and waved his hands. “Black Emperor Dragon Team! Definitely them! Who do the Jackets think they are, trying to challenge the Black Emperor Dragon Team?!”
Only then did the surrounding gazes finally withdraw. As they did, he vaguely overheard whispers.
“Is he an idiot? Thinking a team founded by the Miyamoto Family could lose?”
“Who knows. Looks like he just wandered out from somewhere.”
On the court.
The Black Emperor Dragon Team warmed up in perfect order. Jason Silver unleashed a violent dunk straight at the rim, drawing gasps from the crowd.
Allen and Zack kept showing off flashy dribble moves before sinking shot after shot.
Nick made no unnecessary movements—just a few controlled dribbles before releasing the ball.
Shuzo Nijimura watched everyone display their strengths. Holding the basketball in his arms, he let out a quiet sigh. They’re all monsters.
It was hard to believe that Shuzo Nijimura—once hailed as the No. 1 middle school player in Japan—had become the weakest presence on this team.
He had even gone one-on-one with Zack before, only to be utterly crushed in a 21–6 defeat.
And even those six points felt like Zack had deliberately held back.
Miyamoto Tokima patted Shuzo Nijimura on the shoulder and said gently,
“Don’t get discouraged, Shuzo-senpai. Train hard. One day, you’ll surpass them.”
Shuzo Nijimura sighed. He knew Miyamoto Tokima was comforting him. He was fully aware of his own limits. Looking up at the sky, he said quietly,
“Tokima… sometimes I really envy your talent. And not just yours—Aomine and the others too. Their gifts are incredible, even to me. I can already imagine it… if Aomine keeps growing, the future me might not even score a single point against him.”
Seeing Shuzo Nijimura sink into melancholy, Miyamoto Tokima suddenly smacked him on the head.
“What are you getting sentimental for? Warm up properly. Train hard when we get back. Get stronger and give them a real surprise.”
Shuzo Nijimura rubbed his head, then broke into a smile. “Alright.”
He knew Miyamoto Tokima was encouraging him in his own way, and he was deeply grateful. If not for Miyamoto Tokima… he probably would have already given up on basketball.
...
Miyamoto Tokima walked over to Nash Gold. “What are you looking at?”
Nash Gold turned around at the sound of his voice. “I’m checking out our opponents.”
So he had been observing the Jackets’ strength.
Miyamoto Tokima glanced at the team still warming up. “Well? Notice anything?”
Nash Gold suddenly grinned and spun the basketball on his finger. “Weak.”
“Hm?”
“They’re so weak I don’t feel even a hint of tension.”
“They’re supposed to be one of the strongest streetball teams around.”
“Come on, Tokima-san. Stop praising them. You felt it too—they’re weak.”
Nash Gold looked straight at him.
Miyamoto Tokima’s lips curled upward as he nodded. “True. They’re weak. In that case… let’s make our opening match a beautiful one.”
Nash Gold’s grin turned vicious.
“Understood… Tokima-san.”
Author's Note
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