Chapter 132: Countdown
Shuzo Nijimura turned his head in confusion, looking at the excitement burning in Taiga Kagami’s eyes. After a brief hesitation, he asked,
“You mean… me?”
Taiga Kagami nodded repeatedly.
“Yeah, man! I want to play you one-on-one!”
Shuzo Nijimura was about to refuse, but when he met Taiga Kagami’s blazing gaze, he didn’t know why—he ended up agreeing.
“Alright.”
The two quickly took their positions, ready for a one-on-one.
Shuzo Nijimura handed the ball to Taiga Kagami and took the initiative on defense.
Only then did Shuzo Nijimura come back to his senses.
‘Why did I agree to this? That’s weird… Whatever. I’ll finish this quickly and head back.’
Taiga Kagami’s eyes burned with excitement as he prepared to attack.
From the sidelines, Tatsuya Himuro watched and asked,
“Do you think Taiga can win?”
Alex Garcia’s expression grew serious. After a short pause, she said in a low voice,
“I don’t know. I feel something familiar, yet unfamiliar, from that kid. It’s a bit like you… but also different.”
Tatsuya Himuro froze, murmuring,
“Familiar… yet unfamiliar?”
“Just watch,” Alex Garcia said. “The game… is starting.”
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Time flew by in the blink of an eye. Another year passed.
Over the course of that year, the Black Emperor Dragon Team’s reputation completely exploded. All across the United States, people knew of a streetball team strong enough to rival NBA-level squads.
Among them, Nash Gold and Jason Silver were once hailed as the future standard-bearers of American basketball.
But they were only the future.
The present already had its king—Miyamoto Tokima.
American media had crowned Miyamoto Tokima as the number one player of the younger generation in the United States.
Some even boldly claimed:
“As long as the Miyamoto family’s eldest son is willing to enter the NBA, he’ll instantly become an All-Star.”
A team scout had once publicly released a scouting report on Miyamoto Tokima.
The report read:
Strengths: The player possesses shooting speed, accuracy, and physical attributes far beyond the norm. He has excellent court vision, can play multiple positions, and adapts extremely well to league-level intensity.
Weaknesses: No obvious weaknesses!
Once the scouting report was released, the United States erupted. A player with no weaknesses was practically unheard of, and the entire basketball world began cheering for Miyamoto Tokima.
NBA teams went even further, offering him sky-high contracts and promising that once he turned eighteen, he would immediately become the core leader of the team.
They were willing to build the entire roster around him, even allowing Miyamoto Tokima to have a say in player recruitment and cuts.
In other words, the moment Miyamoto Tokima joined a team, he would hold the authority to decide who stayed and who left.
With that power in hand, it meant there would be only one unquestioned leader on the team—Miyamoto Tokima. No one would be able to defy him.
Of course, everyone knew that the teams’ obsession with Miyamoto Tokima wasn’t just because of his strength.
There was another reason—his identity… the heir of the Miyamoto family.
Securing Miyamoto Tokima was equivalent to gaining massive exposure, influence, and wealth.
After all, the Miyamoto family’s reputation in the United States was known to all. Their influence was so great that it could even sway the thinking of the U.S. military.
They were, quite literally, wealthy enough to rival a nation.
And so, Miyamoto Tokima had spent two full years in the United States. Counting the time, it was finally time for him to return to Japan.
That day.
Miyamoto Tokima went to find his father, Miyamoto Hiroshi, and explained the situation.
“Dad, I want to go back to Japan.”
Miyamoto Hiroshi, sitting beside Michiko, smiled and said,
“What, missing your friends?”
Miyamoto Tokima nodded and moved to sit on the other side of the sofa.
“Kind of. More importantly, things here are basically settled. I’ve shown my face, and the team has already become the strongest streetball team in the United States.”
Miyamoto Hiroshi took a sip of tea and replied,
“Alright. Things here are more or less wrapped up. It’s about time we moved on to our plans in Japan.”
Miyamoto Tokima paused.
“Dad, you mean…?”
Miyamoto Hiroshi laughed.
“That’s right. The whole family is going to Japan. Your mother and I will head over later. For now, you’ll go first on your own.”
Miyamoto Tokima smiled.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Miyamoto Hiroshi waved his hand.
“Alright, go. I’ll arrange the flight for you. Make sure you take care of everything today.”
Miyamoto Tokima nodded and got ready to head out to handle the team’s arrangements.
Suddenly, Miyamoto Hiroshi called out,
“Wait, Tokima.”
Miyamoto Tokima turned back in confusion.
“What is it?”
“Have you decided which high school you’re going to attend?”
“Not yet.”
“Good. I’ve already arranged it for you. More accurately, I’ve arranged schools for you, Momoi, and that senior of yours.”
Miyamoto Tokima froze.
“Dad, what school did you set us up with?”
Miyamoto Hiroshi gave a mysterious smile.
“Secret. All three of you will be in the same school. As for which one, you’ll find out after you return to Japan.
I’ll have butler Hayashi pick you up—ask him when the time comes.”
Miyamoto Tokima rolled his eyes helplessly.
“Dad, you’re doing this again—keeping us in suspense.”
Miyamoto Hiroshi laughed.
“Surprises are best saved for the end. Go on now, don’t waste time.”
Miyamoto Tokima nodded helplessly.
“Got it.”
With that, he turned and left to arrange everything with the team.
After Miyamoto Tokima left, Michiko shot Miyamoto Hiroshi an annoyed glance.
“Honestly, would it kill you to just tell your son?”
Miyamoto Hiroshi smiled calmly, reached out, and gently patted Michiko’s head.
“Just teasing him a little.”
Michiko leaned into Miyamoto Hiroshi’s arms and asked softly,
“Do you think the people you found for our son will really be okay?”
Miyamoto Hiroshi suddenly burst out laughing, his voice echoing throughout the entire mansion. He laughed for nearly five full seconds before finally stopping.
“As a businessman, I never judge things from just one angle. Those people may look like scum or villains in other people’s eyes, but to me, they’re the sharpest swords.
Swords meant to protect my son!”
Smack!
A crisp slap rang out.
“Sword my ass! Laughing right next to my ear—you almost deafened me! Get up!”
“I’m sorry, honey! I won’t laugh anymore!”
“Get into the room!”
“No, honey! I just handed it over yesterday!!!”
“Nooooo!!!”
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