Chapter 81: Trash Talk
The stands echoed with the name “Teikō,” shouted in perfect unison. The synchronized roar was overwhelming.
Shōei Middle School, by contrast, seemed like abandoned extras on the court, with not a single cheer directed their way.
Kōzō Shirogane frowned slightly and spoke to Shogo Haizaki beside him,
“Haizaki, get ready to sub in for Aomine.”
Haizaki nodded, already prepared.
Kōzō Shirogane knew that with Aomine’s current physical condition, his Animal Instinct wouldn’t last long. At most, he could keep it up for a few more possessions before being completely drained.
Daiki Aomine pushed himself to the limit, sprinting without restraint and scoring repeatedly for Teikō. But just as Kōzō Shirogane had anticipated, after two and a half minutes of play, Aomine’s stamina was fully depleted.
Exiting his Animal Instinct state, Daiki Aomine immediately began gasping for air. Sweat poured down his body as if it cost nothing, his knees trembling as he barely had the strength to take even a single step forward.
Inside, he muttered to himself,
“So… was it still too much after all…?”
Seeing this, Kōzō Shirogane immediately called a timeout.
“Beep! Teikō Middle School requests a timeout!”
Miyamoto Tokima and Shuzo Nijimura supported Daiki Aomine as they helped him off the court.
Shōei’s shooting guard panted lightly, watching Aomine being escorted off, and murmured under his breath,
“So he’s finally out…”
After reaching the bench, Daiki Aomine collapsed onto it, mouth wide open as he greedily sucked in air.
Kōzō Shirogane frowned but didn’t say much to him, only speaking sternly,
“Haizaki, you’re in for Aomine.”
Shogo Haizaki nodded.
“Yes, Coach.”
Tetsuya Kuroko looked at Daiki Aomine with concern, then turned to Miyamoto Tokima and asked,
“Tokima, is Aomine okay…?”
Miyamoto Tokima, who was having his sweat wiped away by Satsuki Momoi with a tissue, answered calmly,
“Don’t worry, Tetsuya. Aomine’s fine. He’s just completely exhausted.”
Shuzo Nijimura added from the side,
“That idiot never saves any energy for himself.”
Satsuki Momoi carefully wiped the sweat from Miyamoto Tokima’s face. When she finished, she handed him her water bottle and said softly,
“Drink some water. It’s warm.”
Miyamoto Tokima smiled, took the bottle, and drank.
“Thanks, Satsuki.”
Satsuki Momoi returned a sweet smile, quietly watching him.
The game resumed.
Shogo Haizaki took Daiki Aomine’s place on the court.
Shōei’s shooting guard noticed that his matchup had changed to a white-haired player, but he didn’t think much of it.
Catching the ball, he drove to the left.
Shogo Haizaki kept pace and cut off his driving lane.
The Shōei shooting guard immediately switched to a left-handed dribble, spun to the left, gathered the ball, jumped, and finished with a fadeaway jumper to score.
While retreating on defense, the Shōei point guard ran over and slapped hands with him.
“Nice shot! That white-haired guy was completely locked down by you!”
The shooting guard’s expression grew serious as he replied,
“I don’t think it’s that simple…”
After speaking, he glanced back at Shogo Haizaki and saw a wicked grin on his face, eyes fixed on him as if he were prey.
A chill rose in the shooting guard’s chest, sending a shiver through his body.
Possession changed.
Shogo Haizaki caught the pass, holding the ball with both hands as he faced the Shōei shooting guard.
The shooting guard stared intently at Haizaki, not daring to relax for even a moment.
Haizaki licked his lips, then suddenly drove from the left.
The shooting guard immediately followed.
All of a sudden, Haizaki spun with the ball in his left hand.
Because his weight was shifted to the right, the Shōei shooting guard couldn’t recover in time. By the time he adjusted, Shogo Haizaki was already airborne, releasing a fadeaway jumper.
Shock flashed through the shooting guard’s eyes as he watched the ball drop through the net.
‘That… that was my move just now…’
After scoring, Shogo Haizaki sneered disdainfully.
“From now on, you won’t be able to use that move anymore.”
Possession changed.
The Shōei shooting guard raised his hand to call for the ball.
The Shōei point guard passed it to him.
Holding the ball and facing Shogo Haizaki, who still wore that sinister grin, the shooting guard thought stubbornly,
‘Can’t use it anymore? I don’t believe that!’
He suddenly attacked from the left. When he saw Haizaki step forward, he immediately spun and went for a fadeaway jumper.
But as he rose into the air, he realized Haizaki hadn’t moved at all—instead, he was standing there calmly, watching with a mocking smile.
The Shōei shooting guard released the ball, his eyes locked onto it.
Clang!
The ball slammed hard off the rim and bounced high.
His pupils shrank as disbelief flooded his face.
Shogo Haizaki mocked him openly,
“I already told you—you can’t use that move anymore. Why won’t you believe me?”
Atsushi Murasakibara grabbed the rebound and passed it to Miyamoto Tokima.
Miyamoto Tokima dribbled past half court as ripples spread once again from beneath his feet.
After sweeping across everyone on the court, the ripples vanished.
Swish!
The ball zipped straight into Shogo Haizaki’s hands.
Beyond the three-point line, Haizaki faced the Shōei shooting guard, drove left again, spun, and pulled up for a fadeaway jumper.
The exact same move as before.
The Shōei shooting guard stood there blankly, watching the ball fall through the net, falling into silence.
Seizing the moment, Shogo Haizaki struck again,
“Your move has already been stolen by me. Give up. You’ll never score again…”
His words echoed in the shooting guard’s ears like a demon’s whisper.
Miyamoto Tokima saw everything but made no attempt to intervene.
Trash talk on the basketball court was extremely common—it had practically become part of the game itself. Some players even specialized in using trash talk as a weapon.
There were three ways to respond to trash talk.
The first, and most common, was to fire back with trash talk until the opponent shut up.
The second was to silence them with skill and performance.
The extreme third way was… to beat them until they shut up entirely.
If someone’s resolve could truly be shattered by trash talk alone, Miyamoto Tokima couldn’t imagine what kind of future that person would ever have.
Trash talk, however, wasn’t the same as dirty play. It was simply a method used on the court—one accepted by most, and often capable of igniting fighting spirit.
Small tricks and dirty play were different. Playing dirty and relying on cheap moves was nothing more than a lack of sportsmanship.
Author's Note
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