"Miyagi, that was a good shot. Keep that feeling going." Ayako tossed the ball back to him.
"Okay! Ayako~!" Miyagi answered brightly, shooting again and carefully replicating the rhythm he had just found.
Two straight days of training had helped him gradually rediscover his touch. His shooting wasn't bad to begin with—it was just inconsistent. With proper guidance, progress came quickly.
And with Ayako personally rebounding and encouraging him, his original goal of 200 shots a day suddenly felt too low. Now, he wanted to put up 2,000.
Beside him, Sakuragi was also practicing mid-range jumpers. His progress, however, was much slower.
After all, in the original story, Sakuragi needed 20,000 shots before his range improved. At just 200 a day, this was barely scratching the surface.
But this stage wasn't about results. It was about fundamentals—teaching him proper shooting form and helping him slowly develop his own feel for the shot.
"Sakuragi, keep that posture! That's five in a row!" Haruko cheered, checking her notebook.
"Really? Hahaha!" Sakuragi scratched his head with a goofy grin.
"Don't stop! Remember the feeling and keep going!" Okusu shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth like a megaphone.
The rest of the Sakuragi Gang quickly chimed in, their voices echoing through the gym.
To ensure Sakuragi stayed focused, Nango had specifically asked Haruko to supervise him. With her encouragement, Sakuragi's motivation was at an all-time high.
He was even secretly grateful to Nango. This setup gave him more opportunities to interact with Haruko.
Of course, things weren't as smooth as he imagined. The Sakuragi Gang insisted on hanging around too, ruining his fantasy of exclusive time with Haruko.
"Damn it… these pests…" Sakuragi grumbled through clenched teeth.
Akagi initially had concerns, worried her younger sister wasn't getting enough rest. But Haruko didn't complain at all—in fact, she was glad she could contribute to both Sakuragi's growth and Shohoku's success. Seeing Haruko's determination, Akagi chose not to interfere further.
Meanwhile, Nango watched Miyagi and Sakuragi's progress with mixed feelings. He was relieved, but also faintly melancholic.
Despite training every day with full effort and steadily improving his physique, his actual skills hadn't really evolved in some time. He was just becoming a stronger version of his old self.
And patience had never been his strong suit. The ambitions buried deep within him began to stir again.
It was time to activate the system's training mode.
That night, Nango lay down calmly on his bed. His consciousness slipped into a deep, dreamlike state.
When he opened his eyes again, a basketball suddenly flew at his face. He barely dodged in time.
"Don't just stand there like an idiot! Pick up the ball! Training starts now!"
The booming voice belonged to a tall white man in a white tracksuit and black shorts.
Nango recognized him instantly—Ganon Baker, a renowned professional basketball trainer.
Just seeing him made Nango feel that the 500 reward points were already worth it.
Though only 174 cm tall, Ganon had once played for the Denver Nuggets in the NBA Summer League. His height held him back from sticking in the league, and his semi-pro career went nowhere. But instead of giving up, he reinvented himself as a trainer, helping countless NBA stars sharpen their skills.
"Come on! Warm up first—dribble while running suicides!" Ganon barked, jogging in place as if he'd run alongside him.
Nango bent to pick up the ball, but Ganon's voice boomed again.
"Did I say one ball?! Both hands! Dribble with both hands at the same time! Quick, quick, quick!"
"What?! Both hands?" Nango froze. He had never tried dribbling two balls at once, let alone while running suicides.
"Yes, my friend! Use both your hands! MOVE!"
Hot-headed and relentless, Ganon left Nango no choice but to obey. He grabbed another ball and started dribbling both as he ran.
"Too slow! Don't stare at the ball! Are you a beginner?"
"Don't use your palms! Use your fingertips!"
"Dribble harder! Lead the ball forward—don't let it drag you!"
"Faster! Faster! Time waits for no one!"
Ganon's words were like machine-gun fire, ripping into every flaw.
At first, Nango stumbled, struggling to adjust. But after two laps, he began to find a rhythm, gradually increasing his speed.
Five exhausting laps later, he bent over, gasping for breath—only for Ganon to roar again:
"Don't stop! Keep dribbling!"
He picked up two balls himself and demonstrated. "Like this! In and out! Just like windshield wipers—smooth and sharp!"
"Quick! Quick! Quick!"
"I said fingertips, not palms!"
…
One drill flowed into the next as Ganon unleashed an arsenal of two-ball exercises. Nango followed every command, no matter how sloppy he felt.
Finally, Ganon clapped once. "Good. One minute break, then next drill!"
"One minute?!" Nango gaped.
"What's that look for? Don't want to rest? Fine, skip it! Next drill right now!"
"No, no, no! I'll take it!" Nango said quickly, collapsing onto the floor.
"Look at you, no ambition! This is just the beginning!" Ganon sneered.
Nango could only smile bitterly. His arms trembled, his fingers ached, but the trainer's stopwatch was already ticking.
The moment 60 seconds passed, Ganon pulled him back up and placed a stool at the free-throw line.
"This will be your opponent."
Without waiting for a reply, Ganon picked up the ball and demonstrated:
"Breaking through isn't about being fancy. The simpler the move, the better. And you're not especially fast, so precision is everything. Watch closely."
From the three-point line, he exploded forward with a sharp crossover, drove hard, then suddenly stopped near the stool. Glancing over his shoulder as if checking for a defender, he instantly pushed forward again, finishing with a smooth layup.
"The key is your first step," he explained. "Because of your height, defenders will always be wary of your passing. As long as your first move is sudden enough, you gain the initiative. After that, you decide how to finish—attack, layup, or pass. And if you can't shake them, use the look-back to trick them."
"Now, your turn."
Nango gripped the ball and began copying the move.
Of course, what followed was another barrage of scolding.
"Too slow! How will you ever beat a defender like that?!"
"Too fake! Don't make your movements so stiff!"
…
Yet despite the constant tongue-lashing, Nango wasn't discouraged. Deep down, he knew—this was exactly what he needed.
After this, he wouldn't just be stronger. He would be different.
And he couldn't wait to test his new self in the game against Fukuda.
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A/N: I'm really sorry for posting late, everyone. Our house needed some repairs, and I've been busy helping with that. Thank you so much for understanding and for continuing to support me—it really means a lot!
Support me at patréon com/DaoOfPeeking