The basketball traced a perfect arc through the air, as if defying gravity itself. It grazed the rim ever so slightly, each bounce sending a ripple of tension through the crowd.
For a moment, time seemed to freeze—every eye in the stadium locked onto the ball as it danced along the iron.
Finally, after a few nerve-wracking bounces, the ball accepted its fate, reluctantly dropping through the net with a satisfying swish.
A barely perceptible look of relief flashed across Midorima's face. He knew just how crucial this shot was — not only for the scoreboard but for his team's morale and the momentum of the game.
If the ball had rimmed out, the opposing team's energy would have skyrocketed, putting his squad in a dangerous position.
The crowd erupted in applause and cheers, chanting Midorima's name in waves.
But he didn't bask in the moment. Instead, he immediately sprinted back on defense, locking in for the next possession.
Aomine smirked, his eyes gleaming with a mix of confidence and provocation.
"Not bad, Midorima. But I'm not letting you get another one." His voice carried a playful arrogance.
The next instant, he caught a pinpoint pass from Imayoshi and wasted no time initiating the offense.
Aomine executed a lightning-quick crossover, seamlessly transitioning into a behind-the-back dribble. His speed was unreal, leaving behind an afterimage as he effortlessly blew past Midorima.
Midorima, however, refused to back down. He sprinted after Aomine, staying close enough to feel the pressure mounting. But Aomine, unfazed, accelerated further, slashing toward the right side of the paint.
Midorima anticipated the move, using his length and footwork to cut off Aomine's driving lane, forcing him into a tight corner. It was a textbook defensive stop—denying space and limiting options.
Aomine felt the resistance but remained calm. He gathered the ball and rose for what looked like a pull-up jumper.
Midorima's eyes flickered with doubt but reacted on instinct, launching himself into the air to contest the shot. His long arms stretched out, nearly blocking Aomine's vision.
"You're not getting past me this time" Midorima thought, determined to shut him down.
On the sidelines, Kagami furrowed his brows. "That angle… there's no way he can get a shot off like that!" he muttered to himself.
Kise chuckled, shaking his head knowingly. "Heh, if you think that, you're dead wrong."
Kagami turned toward Kise, confused. "What do you mean?"
Kise smirked. "Just keep watching."
Aomine, still mid-air, flashed a confident grin. In an instant, he adjusted his shot, switching from a standard jumper to a smooth, effortless floater—his right hand guiding the ball gently toward the hoop.
Clang! Off the glass and in. The ball kissed the backboard before dropping perfectly through the net.
"Basketball, like any sport, is built on fundamental techniques refined over time" Kise explained to Kagami and Kuroko. "Because those fundamentals are ingrained, patterns emerge — predictability takes shape, and strategy follows. That's what makes competition possible."
As the team's manager, Momoi watched Aomine and added, "He's been playing since childhood, always going up against older, stronger players in streetball games. His elite ball-handling, combined with raw athleticism, created his completely unorthodox playing style."
"Whether it's dribbling or shooting, Aomine has no fixed form—his movements are limitless. That's why he's unguardable. That's why he was the best power forward in middle school."
Shiro and Kawamura nodded in agreement, explaining to Moyun, "Among the Generation of Miracles, Aomine is the one whose skill set comes closest to defying logic. That's why he demands everyone's full attention."
Back on the court, Aomine was back in control. This time, he toyed with the defender, casually faking a pass toward Takao.
"What the hell? This guy's wide open! He's leaving himself completely exposed!" Takao hesitated for a split second before reaching out, expecting to steal the ball.
Big mistake.
Aomine, having baited Takao perfectly, slapped the ball away from him in a lightning-fast motion and exploded past him in a blur.
"Damn it! A deceptive speed change!" Takao realized too late that he'd fallen for the trick.
Aomine cut through the defense, stopping at the free-throw line. Without hesitation, he rose for a jump shot.
Midorima reacted instantly, leaping with all his might to block the attempt.
But Aomine had already anticipated this.
His body twisted in mid-air at an almost impossible angle, tilting backward until he was nearly horizontal—his torso parallel to the floor.
Gasps erupted from the stands.
Midorima's outstretched hand swiped at nothing but air.
With perfect control, Aomine released the shot, banking it off the glass. Swish.
Too scored again.
The crowd went wild.
"No way! How did he shoot like that?!"
"Won't that hurt his back?!"
Fans whispered amongst themselves, struggling to process what they had just witnessed.
"Am I dreaming? He was practically lying flat in mid-air when he took that shot!" Takao stood frozen, unable to hide his disbelief.
"The best shooters in the world rely on consistency—every shot follows a natural arc" Kagami muttered, still trying to wrap his head around it. "But this guy? He's completely unpredictable… and yet, he still makes them all!"
Kise clapped Kagami on the shoulder with a knowing grin. "Keep working hard, man. You're still a ways off from catching up to us."
Midorima clenched his fists. His mind raced.
"Damn it… I can't read his next move at all!"
But despite his frustration, a fire burned in his eyes—an unyielding determination to find a way to stop the unstoppable.