On the court, Midorima once again struggled to keep up with Aomine's sheer speed.
"Damn it, he lost him again!" Takao sighed, his voice tinged with frustration. He knew Midorima was giving it his all, but Aomine's athleticism was simply on another level.
As soon as Aomine got past Midorima, Otsubo and Miyaji reacted instantly, closing in to double-team him, trying to shut down his drive.
But Aomine barely seemed to acknowledge their presence. His dribbling was fluid, his movements effortless, as if everything was unfolding exactly as he had planned.
Then, at full speed, he suddenly pulled up for a fadeaway jumper.
"He can stop on a dime and shoot from there?!" Kagami's eyes widened in disbelief from the sidelines.
"There's no way to close out on that. The speed gap is just too much" Kise shook his head, clearly impressed.
"In sports, 'speed' isn't just about top speed" Shiro analyzed calmly. "It's also about acceleration from zero to max, deceleration from max to zero, and agility—how quickly someone can change direction. And in terms of raw agility, Aomine is hands down the best among the Generation of Miracles"
His breakdown was precise. Aomine's elite agility was his natural gift, the very thing that made him an unstoppable force on the court.
As Aomine released his shot, the ball traced a perfect arc through the air before swishing cleanly through the net.
Score: 33-35. Tōō had reclaimed the lead.
...
Takao wasted no time. The moment the ball went through the hoop, he launched a pinpoint full-court pass, sending the ball soaring like a shooting star straight toward Midorima.
"Watch out!" Imayoshi's sharp instincts kicked in, and he immediately shouted a warning to his teammates.
Midorima, positioned near the basket, was in perfect range. Aomine's expression darkened—he knew exactly what was coming. Without hesitation, he sprinted back, determined to contest the shot.
Midorima, unfazed, caught the ball and bent his knees, ready to rise for his signature high-arcing shot.
Aomine closed in fast, leaping with an outstretched arm to swat the ball away.
But — Midorima never left the ground.
It was a fake!
Aomine took the bait, biting on the pump fake and jumping early. The moment his feet left the floor, Midorima calmly rose for a real shot. Even though Aomine tried to recover, there was nothing he could do—Midorima had already perfected the art of the fadeaway jumper.
The ball carved a beautiful arc through the air and landed cleanly in the net.
Swish!
"Damn it!" Aomine clenched his fists. Getting faked out like that? At a crucial moment like this? To him, it felt like an insult.
...
"Give me the ball." Aomine's voice was sharp as he called out to Imayoshi. His eyes burned with intensity—he was going to take this personally.
"Oi, don't just go one-on-one the whole time!" Wakamatsu grumbled.
But before he could continue, Imayoshi waved him off and passed the ball to Aomine without hesitation. He understood better than anyone—when Aomine got like this, it was best to just let him do his thing.
"Relax. I'll carry us to the win" Aomine said casually, his confidence unshaken.
With that, he darted toward Midorima, palming the ball and flicking it to his left. Midorima quickly adjusted, stepping in to defend.
Then—something unexpected happened.
The ball hit the ground, bounced back toward Aomine's right hand, and somehow spun back into his grip.
"What the hell was that?!"
Takao's eyes widened in shock. This was a streetball move. Aomine was using his self-pass dribble, something you'd expect to see on an outdoor court, not in an official game.
"Is he seriously pulling out streetball tricks in a tournament?!"
The crowd erupted.
Aomine didn't stop. His every movement was smooth, effortless, and dazzling—like an artist painting a masterpiece. The ball was an extension of his body, moving exactly as he willed it.
Then, with a flash of speed, he flicked the ball through Midorima's legs.
The court went silent for a split second—before the crowd erupted again.
Midorima barely had time to react before Aomine pulled the ball back, crossed over hard, and exploded past him with a lightning-fast first step.
Caught off balance, Midorima tried to recover, but it was too late.
His footing gave out, and he stumbled—falling to the ground.
A stunned hush fell over the arena.
Aomine didn't even look back. With a smirk, he drove to the hoop, ready to finish in style.