November 5th. The Demon Deacons took the court at home for their final preseason warmup game, facing their old rivals:
The North Carolina Tar Heels.
Sure, it was "just" a warmup, but the booming arena music, the sizzling cheerleader routines, the roaring fans, and the mouthwatering scent of popcorn all screamed one thing to the players stepping onto the court: tonight's game was gonna be *shinken*—dead serious.
Let's be real: for sports nuts, America, with its crazy-developed sports scene, is basically *tenkoku*—paradise.
Everyone knows the Demon Deacons' home court, the Lawrence Joel Veterans Memorial Coliseum, can pack in 14,665 fans.
Filling those seats? That takes more than just the school's diehards. The real MVPs are the townsfolk of Winston-Salem, who show up with *netsu*—pure passion—every game day.
"He rose from nothing but never gave up!"
"ROAR!"
"We're the Demon's judges, and he's our leader for the new season!"
"ROAR!"
"He's the AAU National Championship champ…"
"CHRIS—PAUL!"
"ROAR!"
As the home DJ introduced the starting lineups and Paul strutted onto the court, the crowd's cheers hit like a *kaminari*—thunder cracking through the arena.
This was Winston-Salem, a small town of just 180,000, showing their decades-long, unshakable love for their team.
Yup, you heard that right.
These loyal fans, flooding the stands on game day, were the Demon Deacons' true ticket-sellers.
This is North Carolina, the heart of college basketball's *seichi*—holy land. A place where the NBA's big shots can't even dream of stealing market share.
For the fans here, who've backed their teams for generations, those NBA old-timers can't hold a candle to the young guns of college hoops.
Sitting on the bench, Zack—set to make his college debut as a sub tonight—felt a rush of emotions.
Compared to the dreams he'd had of moments like this, seeing the coliseum come alive in real life sent his blood pumping like a *shonen* hero ready to charge into battle.
Tonight, Coach Prosser rolled out a starting lineup of Ellis, Creekster, Monk, Evans, and Paul.
On the other side, UNC's starters included three names Zack knew like the back of his hand: Raymond Felton, Rashad McCants, and Sean May.
In Zack's memory, these guys were the core of the UNC squad that, after a 12-year drought, would reclaim the NCAA title. Once Marvin Williams joined next year, they'd form the legendary "UNC Fab Four."
On the court, the Tar Heels wasted no time flexing their dominance.
In just a few possessions, the once-deafening home crowd went silent, like the arena had turned into a *toshokan*—a library.
Before the game, Paul was dead-set on proving he was better than Felton. But from the tip-off, Felton clamped him down in a one-on-one mismatch.
Paul tried *everything* to stop Felton, but the guy was like a charging *ushitora*—a bulldozing beast. At 185 cm and nearly 95 kilos, Felton's size and power overwhelmed Paul's smaller frame.
Paul had no edge in speed or physicality, leaving him stuck on the defensive end, taking hits like a rookie *kohai*.
Sure, Paul would eventually grow into an elite college point guard, but at this moment in the NCAA, two mountains loomed over him—ones he couldn't climb no matter how hard he tried.
One was Felton.
The other? His future NBA nemesis, the eternal nightmare of "CP3," Deron Williams from Illinois.
If Zack's memory was right, the 04/05 NCAA Finals would pit Illinois against UNC. In that game, those two top-tier guards would duke it out in an epic showdown, proving they were the NCAA's unrivaled *kettō*—dueling stars—of their era.
Back on the court, with Paul locked down, the Demon Deacons' offense sputtered. As the score gap widened, Prosser had to pivot. His eyes landed on Zack.
"Beast [Ellis] is getting swarmed in the paint alone. I need you out there to form a twin-tower combo with him."
Prosser paused, then added, "Remember the plays I drilled into you during practice?"
Zack nodded. "I'll set high screens and playmake from the top to take the pressure off Chris."
Prosser gave Zack's back a hearty slap, grinning. "If they switch to a zone, you've got my green light to take open threes if you feel it."
Now, Zack had busted his *ketsu* training all summer, but his three-point shot was still a work in progress.
When he was hot, he could drain 'em like a *sharpshūta*.
But when he was off? Picture Westbrook-level bricks, like his soul had possessed Zack's shooting form.
No way around it.
After tweaking his shooting mechanics over the summer, building new muscle memory was a grind that'd take years. No matter how hard Zack worked, basketball's basic laws held firm.
At the scorer's table, Zack, now down to 134 kilos, strolled up looking *kenzō*—absolutely jacked.
Compared to his early team practices, he was a beast. Standing taller than Zion Williamson in his memory (with shoes on) and sporting broad shoulders and long arms, Zack's frame looked even more balanced than Zion's.
In the stands, when his classmates noticed the once-chubby Zack had morphed into a chiseled *senshi*, they erupted in cheers and applause.
America *loves* a good redemption arc.
No question about it—Zack's journey over the past six months had already become the stuff of campus *densetsu*—a legend passed down among students.
But the cheers barely lasted a second.
The crowd's mood sank as Felton drilled a pull-up three over Paul. With 12:47 left in the first half, the Tar Heels led by 14.
Scoreboard: 27–13, visitors ahead, as per American basketball custom.
Paul, desperate to prove himself, was burning with frustration.
A dead ball stopped play, and the Demon Deacons made a sub: Zack in, Creekster out.
Seeing the team's morale in the dumps, Zack knew they needed a spark—a killer play to fire up the *nakama*.
When Monk inbounded to Paul, Zack sprinted to the top of the key, setting a rock-solid screen.
His pick was so *gotsui* that Felton, chasing Paul, felt like he'd slammed into *Fuji-san* itself.
Even after dropping weight, Zack's size advantage was still *monosugoi*.
With Felton walled off, Paul—finally shaking off his funk—bolted into the Tar Heels' paint.
But his brain wasn't fully in gear. Instead of making the smart play, he barreled straight into Sean May's defensive zone.
At 206 cm and 121 kilos, May was college basketball's infamous "nimble big man." Spotting Paul's reckless drive, May flashed a smirk, stepping up and using his bulk to throw Paul off balance. Paul, teetering out of bounds, chucked up an awkward shot.
If that circus shot had gone in, it would've been the highlight of the night.
But nope. The home rim spat it out, mocking Paul's effort.
Despair.
*Total* despair.
Just as the arena sank into gloom, a hulking figure sliced through the darkness!
In the paint, May was still chuckling at Paul, who was sprawled on the baseline.
But Paul?
When he glimpsed the shadow looming behind May, he *knew* what was coming. In a flash, he sprang up, eyes wide, as May's smug look turned to shock.
The silent Lawrence Joel Coliseum exploded back to life!
In the Tar Heels' paint, Zack—descending like a *tenshi* from the heavens—followed his screen with a thunderous *tomahawk* putback dunk!
As May turned, he caught a glimpse of a sight that'd haunt him for years: Zack, arm cocked back, glaring down at him like a king from the *tenkū*.
For the first time in his life, May felt *chiisai*—utterly small.
**BAM!**
"Don't zone out on D, man. You're making this way too easy," Zack taunted May after the dunk.
Then, pulling a charging Paul into a bear hug, he grinned. "Relax, Chris. You're not fighting alone anymore."
Up in the stands, a handful of NBA scouts—who'd come to scope out other players—exchanged stunned looks, all thinking the same thing:
*Who the hell is this No. 10 sub for the Demon Deacons?*
Sure, it was "just" a putback dunk.
But to the pros, that play screamed *talent* bursting off the page.
Anyone with half a brain knows a 200 cm player with the same vertical as a 180 cm player is a whole different beast.
And even among 200 cm players with equal hops, the one with longer arms gets the edge in the air.
Longer arms, taller frame—what's that mean?
It means you can do effortlessly what others need to go *all out* for.
In Zack's memory, nobody ever praised Kevin Durant's vertical.
But how many guys in the NBA could contest KD's pull-up jumper?
There's an NBA saying: "I can teach you how to play, but I can't teach you how to grow taller or make your arms longer."
That's why the scouts were buzzing.
Beyond Zack's obvious height and wingspan, that dunk showed off his mobility—something special.
Right here, right now, Wake Forest had unleashed a *kemono*!
On the sideline, Prosser, who'd watched Zack's growth step by step, chuckled. "This kid was born for the big stage."
The Tar Heels' next possession.
As the chains holding him back loosened, Zack flashed another defensive weapon: his *bōei han'i*—defensive range.
Felton, using a screen to shake Paul, thought he had a clear path. But Zack stepped up, delaying him. Felton froze, clutching the ball.
*What a terrifying defensive presence!*
He's not even *that* close, but I had to stop just to protect the ball!
*Damn it, Rashad, get open! If you don't move, I'm gonna lose my passing lane!*
Under Zack's pressure, Felton felt a stress he'd never known.
To be fair, Zack's delay wasn't perfect. He wasn't yet free enough to pounce like Garnett, Duncan, or Davis in his memory.
Still, it was a solid defensive play.
Plus, with Zack easing the pressure on D, "Beast" Ellis locked down May in the paint, proving his worth.
Truth is, back at the Valley Cup, if Ellis hadn't stubbornly tried to bully through Zack's interior D with his so-so offense, he wouldn't have looked so rough.
At 115 kilos with a 215 cm wingspan, Ellis's defense was why he'd locked down the starting center spot as a freshman.
The stop secured, the Demon Deacons took the ball.
Paul, his head clearing, linked up with Zack for a picture-perfect play.
After a pick-and-pop, Zack found himself open at a 45-degree angle.
But as he prepped to shoot, he spotted Evans—looking like Tyrese Gibson—closing in. Zack held the ball, handed it off to Evans, then set a screen to spring him for a *wide-open* look.
That play showed off Zack's court vision.
Evans didn't waste the chance.
**Swish!**
As the three dropped, Evans glanced at Zack. "Man, your screens are like the Great Wall!"
Zack laughed. "You been to the Great Wall?"
Evans shook his head. "Nah, but you're our Great Wall now!"
To the Demon Deacons' fans, Zack was like a gift from *Kami-sama* himself.
In the end, after a 40-minute war, the Tar Heels took the W, 90–81.
But Zack, playing 19 minutes off the bench, went 4-for-7, 1-for-1 from three, 2-for-2 from the line, and racked up 11 points, 6 boards, 3 assists, 2 blocks, and a steal. His dazzling debut left the fans thinking:
*Who cares if we lost?*
*Guess what? Besides Paul, we've got another star to believe in!*
After Zack steadied the ship, Prosser kept his minutes tight in the second half.
Gotta eat the meal one bite at a time, walk the road one step at a time.
Postgame, Winston-Salem's local media swarmed Zack for an interview.
"Zack, congrats on your college debut!
We all know your freshman year was rough. You gave up on yourself, ballooning to a shocking 400 pounds.
Back then, folks thought you'd quit basketball for sumo.
But tonight, you proved us all wrong. What drove you to this point, and what did it take to get here?"
"You know, the old me was young and dumb, always dodging problems instead of facing them.
That made me depressed, frustrated, even self-destructive. I doubted everything. But after some soul-searching, I figured it out.
Basketball is my *shinjitsu*—my true love. I can't live without it, and I couldn't accept a life where I couldn't play. Once I realized that, I was all in on reclaiming my old self.
It was *tough*, no lie. But my teammates and coaches had my back the whole way.
Moving forward, I'm staying true to my roots, grinding hard to live up to their faith in me."
"Looking ahead, what's your short-term and long-term goals?"
"I wasted too much time before, so now I'm all about seizing the moment. This season, I want me and my *nakama* to push for March Madness and go as far as we can.
Of course, I'm also dreaming of the NBA, chasing my basketball *yume* there."
"What do you think of Chris Paul, the new guy on the team?"
"Me and Chris go way back to high school. I know the guy—he's unreal. I'm pumped to see how we'll vibe on the court together."
Answering the media's barrage while quietly taking the fall for "someone" else's past, Zack still hadn't come down from the game's adrenaline—nervous, excited, *all of it*.
Right then, he was itching for the next game.
"*Yappari*, I was born to play basketball," he thought, clenching his fist.
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