Chapter 3 I Want to Play Point Guard
Sakuragi Hanamichi had successfully joined the Shohoku basketball team.
A freshman who could leap from the free-throw line and dunk with ease—there was no way Akagi Takenori, captain of Shohoku, could possibly turn him away.
Still, Akagi maintained his usual stern composure. His face remained rigid as he gave a short nod.
"…Welcome. But if you join, you follow the rules."
Yet his slightly trembling fingers and the unusual brightness in his eyes betrayed him.
Inside, his heart pounded like a festival drum.
First Rukawa Kaede—silent, talented, a natural scorer.
And now Sakuragi Hanamichi—raw, outrageous physical potential.
Shohoku's long-stagnant dream suddenly felt closer.
No—perhaps even that buried ambition…
To stand on the national stage.
Akagi suppressed the grin threatening to split his face.
After Sakuragi completed registration, Akagi asked in his usual blunt tone,
"Sakuragi. What position do you intend to play?"
"Point guard," Sakuragi answered immediately.
"…Point guard?"
The gym fell silent for half a second—then erupted.
"A point guard?!"
"At that height?!"
"Is he insane?!"
In Japanese high school basketball, tall players dominated the paint.
With Sakuragi's build and jump, he was practically made to be a center or power forward.
Point guards were small, quick playmakers—court generals who controlled tempo and distribution.
Facing the astonished stares, Sakuragi simply shrugged, expression firm.
"Yeah. Point guard."
In his previous life, that had been his role.
Reading defenses. Controlling rhythm. Delivering passes that split formations.
That, to him, was the true beauty of basketball—not brute force alone.
Akagi studied him.
He remembered the free-throw line dunk. The explosive speed. The coordination.
"…Fine," Akagi decided at last.
"If you insist, we'll see what you can do."
Just then, Vice-Captain Kogure Kiminobu entered with the team manager, Ayako.
Ayako, holding a clipboard and whistle, immediately brightened upon seeing the two tall freshmen.
"Oh? These must be our new members! I'm Ayako, Shohoku's manager. Nice to meet you~"
She greeted Rukawa first. He gave a minimal nod, eyes half-lidded as always.
Ayako chuckled, unfazed, then turned to Sakuragi.
"Red hair, huh? You're definitely easy to remember. I heard you caused quite a scene outside."
She elbowed Haruko playfully and whispered,
"Haruko, aren't you thrilled? Especially about—"
Haruko's face instantly turned scarlet.
"A-Ayako-senpai! Please stop!!"
Once the team had gathered and finished warm-ups, Akagi clapped his hands.
"To evaluate the newcomers, we'll have a short practice game.
First-years versus second- and third-years. Ten minutes."
The Sakuragi Army, still hanging around outside the court, leaned forward eagerly.
"This is gonna be good!" Takamiya rubbed his hands.
"We finally get to see Hanamichi play for real!" Noma grinned.
Mito Yohei simply sat against the wall, smiling knowingly.
Ayako raised her whistle.
Tweet!
The game began.
Jump Ball — Sakuragi vs. Akagi
Akagi expected to dominate with height and experience.
But Sakuragi's legs coiled like springs.
He launched upward—faster, higher—and flicked the ball before Akagi's fingertips reached it.
Gasps rippled through the gym.
"That jump…!"
"He's still rising?!"
The ball fell into first-year possession.
Sakuragi received the pass and began dribbling upcourt.
His handle was smooth—unnatural for a beginner.
The ball seemed tied to his palm by invisible thread.
He scanned the floor calmly, directing teammates with hand signals.
Kogure stepped forward, glasses glinting.
"Let me test you, Sakuragi-kun."
Sakuragi smirked—the fearless grin of a self-proclaimed tensai.
He crossed over. Once. Twice.
Kogure shifted his weight—
Step-back.
Sakuragi rose beyond the three-point line, releasing in one motion.
Perfect form. Perfect confidence.
Even Akagi's eyes widened.
"…He can shoot too?!"
The ball soared.
Everyone watched.
Then—
Thunk.
Not even the rim.
A clean airball.
Silence.
Then—
"PUHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Takamiya collapsed laughing.
"Were you aiming for the ocean?!"
"Free-throw line dunk, but three-point disaster!"
Even upperclassmen hid their smiles.
Haruko covered her mouth, disappointed but trying not to show it.
Rukawa snorted.
"Tch. Amateur."
Sakuragi, however, remained calm.
He alone understood.
His mind remembered shooting mechanics.
But this body had no muscle memory.
No touch. No calibrated force.
Reality confirmed instantly.
So he adjusted.
No more long shots.
He attacked the basket with explosive drives.
He leapt for rebounds.
He set screens.
And above all—
He orchestrated.
He called plays, read defenders, threaded bounce passes through narrow gaps.
His timing was impeccable.
Teammates caught the ball exactly where they needed it.
Rukawa, unleashed, scored repeatedly.
Though Rukawa rarely passed, Sakuragi compensated—filling gaps, rotating, covering, directing.
The first-year offense slowly took shape.
Still, experience mattered.
The senior team remained more coordinated.
When time expired, the scoreboard showed a six-point difference.
Upperclassmen win.
Most first-years slumped in frustration.
Sakuragi merely exhaled.
Their loss was expected.
Cold shooting. No teamwork.
Rukawa playing one-on-one.
Three raw rookies learning spacing.
Basketball was five-on-five, not one-on-one heroics.
He walked to Rukawa, who was drinking water silently.
"Oi, Rukawa," Sakuragi said, surprisingly serious.
"You had open teammates a few times. If you passed, we could've changed the outcome."
Rukawa glanced sideways.
"…Tch."
No reply.
But his lips tightened slightly.
He had heard.
On the sideline, Kogure stood beside Akagi, watching.
"That was close," Kogure admitted.
"Rukawa's scoring is overwhelming… but he doesn't pass.
And Sakuragi…"
He paused, still stunned.
"He can't shoot at all. Yet his court vision, passing angles, defensive coverage…
It doesn't look like a beginner's instinct."
Akagi folded his arms, snorting.
"Hmph. First-year brats."
Yet the faint curl of his mouth betrayed him.
Those passes.
They had torn through Shohoku's defense cleanly.
"…He really might be a point guard," Akagi admitted inwardly.
Then another thought surfaced.
Miyagi Ryota will return soon.
Akagi rubbed his temple.
"How am I supposed to arrange the backcourt now…?"
It was, without question—
A very happy problem.