NOVEL NEXT Chapter 82: American High School Players
The next day during practice, Shiro approached Akashi, leaned closer to his ear, and said softly, "Hey, don't you think everyone's getting a bit too cocky lately? I've invited some American high school players to come and play a friendly match with us. Let them know about it."
Akashi was slightly surprised. He hadn't expected Shiro to arrange something like this so quietly. However, he quickly realized this was a good idea—an opportunity to remind the team that there's always someone better out there.
He nodded and replied to Shiro, "Alright!"
Akashi then clapped his hands loudly to gather everyone's attention. "Alright, everyone, gather around. I have something to announce."
The team, who had been practicing their shots, quickly assembled. Akashi stepped aside and motioned for Shiro to step forward.
Clearing his throat, Shiro began, "Listen up, everyone. I've arranged for a group of American high school players to come and play a friendly match against us. Get ready."
"What? For real? Finally, some tough opponents!" Aomine exclaimed, his excitement evident. Lately, he'd felt invincible—there was barely anyone who could keep up with him anymore. Hearing about skilled opponents reignited his competitive fire. Especially since Shiro refused to play one-on-one with him, leaving Aomine feeling like his potential was being wasted.
"Ugh, what's the big deal? American players? I'll crush them like bugs" Murasakibara scoffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking completely uninterested.
Nearby, Midorima adjusted his glasses with a slight frown, showing he was taking the news more seriously. "If Shiro's the one who picked them, they won't be pushovers."
Midorima also recalled his morning horoscope, which had placed Cancer's fortune at fourth place today. A faint sense of unease crept into his mind.
Kise, on the other hand, grinned. "Oh, playing against top-tier opponents again? This is going to be fun!" His eyes sparkled with excitement. He knew that facing strong opponents was the best way to improve his own skills.
Shiro's lips curled into a subtle smile. "All I ask is that you don't lose by more than 30 points."
Hearing this, Aomine's eyes widened in disbelief. "What?! Shiro, you're underestimating us way too much! Don't worry—I'm going to crush them."
Akashi and Midorima's expressions grew serious. If Shiro's words were true, then their upcoming opponents would be formidable indeed.
As silence fell over the team, Shiro's phone rang. It was clear that the opponents had arrived. Shiro said to the group, "Warm up quickly" before answering the call.
On the other end of the line was the same butler from before. "Young master, they've arrived"
"Let them in" Shiro replied.
Before long, a group of young players—comprised of Black and white athletes—entered the gym, glancing curiously around as they walked in. Leading the group was a towering player over two meters tall, with a prominent unibrow that gave him an imposing appearance.
The basketball team stared at the newcomers, wide-eyed and shocked. The average height of these players exceeded 190cm, creating a sense of overwhelming physical presence.
Even though players like Aomine, Shiro, and Midorima were all above 180 cm — and Murasakibara stood over two meters — they still felt dwarfed by this group. Akashi, barely over 170 cm, appeared especially small in comparison, adding to the team's unease.
Standing beside the American players was a middle-aged man — Shiro's butler — who greeted him with a deep bow and utmost respect. "Young master, I've brought the players as requested."
The towering player stepped forward and, with a heavy American accent, asked, "Is what you said earlier still valid?"
"Of course" Shiro replied smoothly in fluent English. "If you defeat us, each of you will receive $500,000 in prize money. I guarantee fairness — no biased referees, no tricks. Just play your best. These will be your opponents today." He gestured toward Aomine and the others.
Hearing this assurance, Anthony Davis relaxed and examined his opponents. A faint smirk appeared on his face, as though he believed the match would be an easy payday.
"Alright, I'm Anthony Davis. Let me introduce my teammates" Davis pointed to a quiet but solid-looking Black player beside him. "This is Andrew Wiggins" Wiggins gave a shy smile, scratching his head awkwardly.
Shiro couldn't help but chuckle to himself. "Didn't expect Wiggins to be this bashful back then" he thought.
Davis then motioned toward the only white player in the group. "This is Zach LaVine. Don't underestimate him."
LaVine responded with a confident smile and a nod.
Davis continued, introducing the rest of the team. "This is D'Angelo Russell, and that's Dennis Schröder."
Shiro shook hands with each player, exchanging polite greetings.
With introductions done, Shiro clapped his hands and reminded everyone, "Alright, time is short. Let's all warm up and get ready for the match."
As the players dispersed to warm up, Davis's lips curled into a barely noticeable smirk.
"Hah, telling us to warm up? These Asians sure are full of themselves" he thought. He kept his thoughts to himself, following his teammates to the court for a casual warm-up.
Compared to the disciplined and focused warm-ups of the Generation of Miracles, the American players were the complete opposite. They lounged around lazily, chatting and laughing, with some barely bothering to move. It was as if they didn't take the match seriously at all.