After the Thanksgiving break, the Demon Deacons, riding a flawless 9-0 start, climbed to the top of the national rankings.
"Our game plan? Hand the ball to Chris Paul, and two hours later, he usually delivers a *saikō* ending," Coach Prosser said, beaming about his star pupil's performance this season.
This summer, when the team first gathered, the Demon Deacons were a scattered mess. But under Paul's leadership, they'd molded into a tight, cohesive *unitto*.
On the perimeter, Evans and Monk stretched the floor with their shooting.
In the paint, Ellis and the breakout star Zack formed a twin-tower *kabe*—a wall of defense.
For a moment, this perfectly balanced squad was the talk of college hoops, dominating on both ends of the court.
In his first nine official college games, Paul averaged 17.3 points, 6.9 assists, 4.6 rebounds, and 2.9 steals. His shooting? Over 50% from the field and a jaw-dropping 48% from three.
As a diehard Paul fan, Zack knew CP3 was *always* the king of efficiency in his college days.
But let's be real—Paul's stellar stat line this season owed a lot to Zack, who'd been leveling up non-stop since the summer.
Thanks to the Demon Deacons' hot start, Zack—averaging 10.6 points, 6.3 rebounds, 3.3 assists, and 2.6 blocks—had officially caught the eye of NBA scouts.
Some might scoff, "Zack's numbers? Pretty *futsū*. Tons of NCAA players have better stats. Why's *he* on the NBA radar? Is there some secret 'player bonus' in America?"
Hold up. To get why Zack's numbers matter, you gotta understand the NCAA system.
Sure, plenty of players outshine Zack's raw stats in NCAA Division I.
But here's the kicker: are those guys balling in a conference as tough as the ACC?
The ACC is the *saikyō*—the strongest—of NCAA's top-tier conferences. Compared to weaker conferences, it's like the NBA versus the G League. The gap is *dekkai*.
This season, the ACC was hands-down the most competitive and stacked of the NCAA's five traditional power conferences.
So, Zack, grinding in the nation's toughest conference, naturally drew more eyes. His stat sheet carried *real* weight.
"Could *he* be the next star in the NBA? Wake Forest's Eastern Duncan has NBA scouts hooked!"
That day, as the Demon Deacons hit No. 1, media jumped on U.S. reports about the team and Zack.
Of course, being masters of *newsu* alchemy, they couldn't resist tweaking the headlines and stories for extra spice.
Back in 2003, the internet was picking up steam, but traditional media still ruled the news. Plus, most netizens weren't exactly pros at sniffing out the truth.
So, after a barrage of these hyped-up reports, basketball fans were buzzing with takes like:
"young Duncan? Quick question—who's Zack ?"
"How come I've never heard of this Zack guy? Has he been balling in the U.S. this whole time?"
"No way—are we about to get another No. 1 draft pick?!"
"But his stats are barely 10 points a game. Is the media hyping him up? Is he *really* Duncan-level?"
"C'mon, stop guessing. Sina's top reporter called him the new Duncan. What, you don't watch the NBA? You don't know how good Duncan is?"
Real talk: if Zack had time to hop online and see how media was spinning his story, he'd probably groan, "*Nani* the hell is this? Fake *nyūsu*!"
In reality, *Sports Illustrated*'s original piece on the Demon Deacons mostly praised Zack's redemption arc and his *me ni mieru*—visible—progress.
As for his actual draft stock?
ESPN had him ranked 13th at his position.
Yeah, Zack was on NBA scouts' radars, but nine games weren't enough to rocket him to the top.
Most U.S. reporters and scouts agreed: his potential needed more games to prove itself. Only time would tell if he could grab that *nokku brikku*—the key to the NBA's door.
Just like the Demon Deacons, No. 1 yesterday, could tumble from the throne tomorrow.
In December, the team's new month kicked off with a brutal clash against a squad of wild warriors from Illinois.
In what the Wake Forest school paper later dubbed "Our Waterloo," the Illinois Fighting Illini, led by Deron Williams and Luther Head, absolutely *shokei*—executed—the Demon Deacons' backcourt.
Chief executioner Deron dropped 28 points, 7 assists, and 5 rebounds.
Meanwhile, North Carolina's Mr. Basketball, Paul, got sent to the guillotine, managing just 8 points, 4 rebounds, and 5 assists.
The other Illini hitman, Head, was a bit kinder, "only" splashing 7 threes—yep, one more than the *entire* Demon Deacons team combined.
This game exposed all the cracks the Demon Deacons had hidden during their win streak.
First, compared to elite teams, Monk and Evans were solid shooters but couldn't keep up in high-stakes matchups.
Second, when Paul couldn't run the show, the team's offense flatlined *sugu ni*.
In the end, the Demon Deacons got smoked 95–74 on the road. The same media hyping them yesterday? They flipped overnight, calling out the team's "fake contender" vibes.
But here's the wild part: despite the blowout loss, Zack's draft stock *actually* went up.
In that game, he was the team's only *zakinburo*—the lone bright spot.
With Paul rattled by Deron, Zack stepped up, shouldering the offensive load. He went 9-for-14, 1-for-3 from three, 4-for-4 from the line, and set a personal NCAA high with 23 points, plus 9 rebounds.
Illinois was a perimeter-driven team—hell, even Sean May would feast in their paint later.
Zack leaned hard into his height and wingspan, racking up points through hustle, second-chance buckets, and relentless effort.
And when he had open looks from deep? He didn't hesitate, channeling his inner Michael Jordan with fearless shots.
Zack had seen the NBA's next 20 years. He knew where the league was headed, so he never planned to be a traditional big man stuck in the paint.
Still, after that road loss to Illinois, even with his standout performance, Zack's mood was *saitei*—rock bottom.
He hated that he wasn't strong enough yet to turn the tide in tough games.
He also cursed his stamina—unlike Jordan, who could play 48 minutes then hit the town for *nanpa*, Zack was nowhere near that level.
After the loss, his frustration drove him to train, train, and train some more.
Coach Prosser saw it all.
"That kid's *shōshin*—his drive to win—will carry him far," Prosser said that day.
Assistant coach Victor, looking worried, chimed in, "But he doesn't need to beat himself up. He did everything he could in that game."
Prosser nodded. "That's why I'm starting him next game."
After a pause, he added, "It's time to let him blow off some steam on the court."
As a veteran coach, Prosser knew the only way to shake off a loss's bad vibes was through more *shōri*—victories.
But at that moment, Prosser wasn't fully leveling with Victor.
The real reason he was starting Zack? The next opponent was Duke.
Everyone knows Duke's nickname: the Blue Devils.
Back in 1923, after Wake Forest crushed Duke, they claimed the title of "Demon Deacons"—the devils' judges.
Yup, you got it.
The Demon Deacons' name literally comes from their rivalry with Duke.
These two schools, bitter enemies since their founding due to religious differences, are the poster children for college hoops *shukuteki*—blood feuds.
Prosser knew the Wake Forest-Duke showdown would draw eyes from all of North Carolina, plus a swarm of NBA scouts and media.
To him, this was the *saikō* stage for Zack to shine.
And this year's Duke? They didn't have anyone in the paint who could lock down Zack.
"His future is the NBA, but to get there, he needs a heavy enough *nokku brikku*," Prosser thought, watching Zack grind away at practice.
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