Parallel World Light Novelist

Chapter 341: Chapter 340: Moved to Tears

May arrived.

The temperature of the animation industry rose steadily alongside the heat of the season.

Starting from the seventh episode, the plot of Slam Dunk finally entered its primary arc.

This was the Inter-High National Tournament qualifiers, a goal that had been constantly mentioned since the first episode but remained unseen for over a month. Before the actual qualifiers, however, the Shohoku team, led by the protagonist Hanamichi Sakuragi, would face off against the formidable Ryonan High in a practice match.

Traditionally, sports anime followed a predictable blueprint. Consequently, while there were many popular sports series, truly classic masterpieces that fans would praise decades later were few and far between.

However, the arrival of Slam Dunk in the spring and summer market completely shattered every preconceived notion the industry had about the genre.

The protagonist was a red-haired delinquent who loved to brawl and wasn’t particularly bright. His luck with women was abysmal; how else could one describe a high schooler who had been rejected fifty times?

His only motivation for joining the basketball club was to chase after the captain’s cute younger sister, Haruko Akagi.

In a comedy anime, such a lead would be perfect. But in a basketball anime, the audience struggled to see how he could possibly contribute. If Haruto hadn’t spent the last few years proving every critic wrong, the internet trolls and news outlets looking for Haruto clickbait would have already pounced on the show’s slow start.

Even so, seeing the protagonist remain so foolish deep into the series, many critics were already sharpening their knives, waiting for the ratings to drop so they could capitalize on the backlash.

But the winds of public opinion shifted the moment the Shohoku-Ryonan game began.

On the court, Hanamichi continued his usual buffoonery, but the actual basketball sequences were breathtaking.

Rukawa Kaede, who had done nothing but act cool for the first six episodes, turned into a relentless demon on the court. The Shohoku captain, ”Gorilla” Takenori Akagi, commanded the center position with such overwhelming physical presence that the pressure practically leaked out of the screen.

Furthermore, their opponents were not the typical one-dimensional villains found in other sports anime. The pillars of the Ryonan team, Akira Sendoh and Jun Uozumi, were portrayed with depth and skill.

By the second week of this arc, the viewership ratings for Slam Dunk neared the 6% milestone. In the character popularity polls for the season, Sendoh and Rukawa claimed the third and fifth spots respectively.

While they trailed behind the protagonist of Fullmetal Alchemist and the lead of the massive Initial D franchise, it was an incredible feat for characters whose story had only just begun. The fans were finally getting into the rhythm.

Two more weeks slipped by.

Hanamichi, the complete novice, spent the first half of the game on the sidelines. After a series of hilarious attempts to badger ”Pops” Coach Anzai into letting him play, he finally made his debut in the ninth episode.

His bizarre, wrap-around dribbling and his frantic, hyperactive warm-up routines provided plenty of laughs. However, when Akagi was forced to leave the court due to an injury, Hanamichi was sent in as a substitute. Tasked with the responsibility of saving the game, the boy found his mind going completely blank, resulting in mechanical, clumsy movements. This vulnerability immediately won over the audience. After the episode aired, the forums were flooded with comments.

”That’s exactly it. That’s exactly how I felt the first time I stepped onto a competitive court.”

”I totally empathize. In high school, I represented the school in a city-wide table tennis tournament. There were hundreds of people watching. Every time my opponent scored, the crowd cheered, and within three minutes, my form completely fell apart.”

”The way the author portrays a basketball novice is so authentic. I feel like I’m watching my younger self.”

”This practice match has been going on for four episodes now, and instead of getting bored, I find it getting better every week. Is that normal?”

”A basketball game is forty minutes, but the anime has spent nearly two hours on it. It’s a strange feeling.”

”It should be wrapping up soon. A practice match can’t take up too much of the season. Other anime finish an entire arc in twelve episodes, but here we are at the end of the market and the first game isn’t even over. The pacing is definitely deliberate.”

”But Rukawa really showed no mercy. Seeing Hanamichi frozen like a statue, he just walked up and kicked him.”

”It’s the catfish effect. Rukawa is the predator that forces Hanamichi to swim. Hanamichi didn’t stop being stiff because his nerves went away; he stopped because he got so mad at Rukawa that he forgot about the pressure of the crowd.”

”Basketball-playing Hanamichi is way more interesting than delinquent-comedy Hanamichi.”

”It looks like the series is going to chronicle his growth from a total amateur into a god of the court.”

”The production values are insane. The camera work, the animation of the movements, the storyboarding... it’s all so stylish. It’s actually more exciting than watching a real pro game.”

Within a few weeks of the Ryonan arc, the discussion had shifted from Hanamichi’s gags to basketball strategy, win-loss predictions, and the protagonist’s utility on the court.

Both Fullmetal Alchemist and Slam Dunk were slow-burn masterpieces. However, Fullmetal Alchemist had secured its audience early with its harrowing explorations of humanity and world-building. Consequently, its ratings never dipped below 6%. It rose slightly every week with rock-solid stability.

Slam Dunk had a more scattered start, but now that the main plot had arrived, fans recognized its brilliance. Within a few weeks, the show’s reputation underwent a massive reversal. The critics waiting for a disaster were forced to stay in the shadows, fearing the wrath of the growing fanbase.

As the Chairman of Haru-Yuki Animation, Haruto kept a close eye on the metrics. Once the game started, he became active on social media again, frequently replying to fan questions in the comments. He even made several television appearances in late May to give the series an extra push.

While he would have preferred to be a hands-off executive, the company still relied heavily on his personal brand.

May ended, and June arrived.

The industry predictions that the practice match would end quickly were proved entirely wrong. The game, which began in late April, continued into early June.

The audience watched as Akagi returned to the court with a bandaged eye, and Hanamichi, after his initial panic, began to showcase his pride and joy: his incredible jumping ability and raw athletic power. It was pure, unadulterated excitement.

On the day the eleventh episode was set to air in early June, Haru-Yuki Animation launched a massive promotional campaign on its official website.

They made it clear: the battle would conclude tonight. Tokyo TV1 followed suit, highlighting the finale of the match in their commercial breaks. The fans were vibrating with anticipation.

”To be honest, I can’t even point to one specific thing that makes Slam Dunk so good, but I’ve reached a point where I just can’t stop watching.”

”Me too. Time just flies when it’s on. Twenty minutes of animation for one minute of game time? I don’t care. I’m hooked.”

”I don’t even watch real basketball this closely. This Shohoku-Ryonan game has my heart racing.”

”It’s so different from the invincible genius protagonists I’m used to. I actually find myself rooting for Hanamichi much more.”

”At this point, Slam Dunk might not be at the level of Hunter x Hunter or Initial D yet, but it’s clearly a high-tier production. If the early pacing had been a bit tighter, the popularity would probably be even higher. The comedy focus in the first few weeks definitely turned off some of the hardcore sports fans.”

The forums were buzzing until the very moment the broadcast began. Then, a collective silence fell over the fanbase.

The first Saturday of June. Episode eleven.

Two minutes left on the clock.

The offensive and defensive struggle between Shohoku and Ryonan reached a fever pitch. With twenty seconds remaining, Shohoku was down by one point. Rukawa had possession. He drove past four defenders single-handedly, only to be met by Sendoh, the man who had suppressed him all game.

In that split second, Rukawa instinctively passed to the nearest teammate. Only after the ball left his hands did he realize it was Hanamichi, the person he bickered with most.

Hanamichi caught the ball and sprinted toward the basket with everything he had. He leaped high into the air, the ball gripped firmly in his palm, and slammed it into the hoop.

In that moment, even the fans who loved to live-chat during the show held their breath.

What defines a classic sports anime? It is the ability to make the audience feel entirely invested in every match. It feels less like watching a cartoon and more like being a friend, a parent, or the players themselves, breathing and sweating on that court.

The final two minutes of episode eleven gave the audience that exact feeling. Tension, pounding hearts... and then, as Hanamichi landed, the ball went through the net.

Ten seconds left. The score was 85 to 86.

Hanamichi, characteristically arrogant, stood with his hands on his hips, flashing a smug grin at the crowd as the hero of the hour. The viewers were ecstatic. Even Hanamichi’s cocky face looked charming in that moment.

However, a game is never truly over until the final whistle.

Ryonan’s ace, Akira Sendoh, used those final seconds to his advantage. While Shohoku was busy celebrating their assumed victory, Sendoh sprinted the length of the court. He wove through three frantic Shohoku defenders and scored a buzzer-beater, freezing the final score at 87 to 86.

The deafening cheers of the Ryonan students filled the gymnasium, contrasting sharply with the expressions of agonizing regret on the faces of the Shohoku players. The premature celebration trope, usually reserved for villains, had just been inflicted upon the protagonists.

The audience was frustrated, but they didn’t know who to blame. Akagi and Rukawa had given everything. The other starter players did their best to fill out the roster, they didn’t drag the team down, but they couldn’t be expected to carry it. As for Hanamichi, a novice with less than a month of experience, he had dominated the rebounds and scored the go-ahead basket with twenty seconds left. Arrogance was simply part of who he was.

It was painful. It was heartbreaking.

But as the episode drew to a close, the viewers could feel something else: the thumping of their own hearts after holding their breath for so long. The pain came from the fact that they had completely projected themselves onto the Shohoku team.

A fictional game in a fictional school had held them spellbound. Veteran anime fans realized that something special was happening with this show.

At the very end of the episode, Hanamichi roared in frustration on the court.

”Pass! Give me the ball! I feel like there’s still ten seconds left! Pass it to me!”

Captain Akagi walked over to him and said softly, ”Hanamichi. It’s over. We lost.”

Refusing to accept it, Hanamichi tried to grab the ball resting on the floor, only to trip and fall. He looked back to see that he had literally run the soles off his cheap sneakers; his toes were poking through the fabric. He slumped forward, his forehead hitting the hardwood floor in silent agony.

He couldn’t accept it, but it was reality. Even if they felt like winners for those ten seconds, they had failed to defend.

Their opponent had seized that tiny window and proven their superior experience.

As the ending theme began to play, many of the fans who had followed the show for eleven weeks found their eyes welling up. In the past, they might have watched real sports and wondered why people cried over a game. Now, they understood.

Ten minutes after the broadcast ended, the internet exploded.

”Brothers, I’m a mess.”

”Me too. I’m covered in cold sweat. I just feel this hollow ache of regret. It was so close.”

”It’s like failing an exam by one point. It’s the worst feeling in the world. Getting sniped at the buzzer... I’m so mad!”

”Why are you mad? You weren’t the one playing.”

”I just am! But I can’t even find someone to blame. Hanamichi and Rukawa gave it their all. Akagi was injured, Rukawa’s legs were cramping... the role players did their jobs. Hanamichi, a total rookie, got the rebounds and the go-ahead basket. He worked so hard... but that celebration at the end. Sigh.”

”That is the beauty of basketball.”

”The shot of Hanamichi hitting his head on the floor broke me. I’m on my school’s soccer team, and when we lost a game in the final minutes, I felt the exact same way. I wanted to slap myself. I feel his pain.”

”I don’t even play sports and I’m fuming. I have to say, the Warrior of Love’s sports writing is top-tier. The tension is on a completely different level compared to those invincible hero shows.”

”I always thought basketball was boring, but after watching this, I realize it’s incredible.”

”Easy there. Anime and reality are different. It looks cool when these characters do it, but if you try it, you’ll just be hitting the rim and air-balling, haha.”

”Man, if the rest of the show is this intense, I’m calling it a masterpiece right now.”

”I’ve already started telling people. He should have just started with the games. The first few episodes of Hanamichi wandering around weren’t bad, but they were so far off the main plot. That felt like buildup.”

”But those episodes are why we care about Hanamichi now! The pacing might have been a bit loose, but the character work was essential.”

”That’s a fair point. The author probably wanted to establish who Hanamichi was before throwing him into the deep end. It took a while, but I have patience for Haruto.”

The conclusion of the practice match in early June caused a massive spike in the show’s reputation and popularity. At the very least, every anime viewer now knew that regardless of how much Haruto liked to write about high school life, his basketball sequences were second to none.

From this point forward, the trajectory of Slam Dunk in the market began its sharp, upward climb.

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