As the undisputed core of Shūtoku's team, Midorima once again extended his hand, calling for the pass.
As the team's ace, he knew the weight on his shoulders—only by overcoming the opposing ace, Aomine, could he lead Shūtoku to victory.
His teammates had no hesitation. They had absolute trust in Midorima. As long as he was on the court, they believed they had a chance to win every game.
The ball arced through the air with precision, landing perfectly in Midorima's hands.
Immediately, Aomine closed in on him, sticking to him like a shadow. Their eyes locked, and sparks flew between them.
"Midorima, this time, there's no way you're scoring." Aomine smirked, his voice carrying a playful challenge.
Midorima didn't respond. He simply shot Aomine a cold glance before shifting into battle mode. He started dribbling, shifting his body left and right, searching for an opening.
But Aomine's defense was like an impenetrable wall—every move Midorima made was read with ease.
Midorima felt the pressure but refused to back down. He attempted a few deceptive feints, hoping to throw Aomine off, but for someone who had been mastering crossovers and fakes since childhood, Midorima's moves were riddled with openings.
He knew he had to try something unconventional. Taking a bold step back, he seemed to be creating space for a shot. Aomine immediately closed in, but it was just a fake.
The moment Aomine's center of gravity shifted upward, Midorima exploded forward with a lightning-quick drive, catching everyone off guard.
As Aomine caught up, Midorima made a decisive move—gathering the ball for a jump shot.
But just as he was about to pull up, Aomine pounced like a predator, snatching the ball right out of his hands.
A sharp "smack!" echoed across the court.
Midorima's eyes widened in disbelief. His shot attempt had been completely shut down. Aomine, having unleash in the animal instinct, had taken his speed and reflexes to another level.
"Sorry, Midorima! You're too slow—I couldn't just stand by and watch." Aomine grinned, full of confidence.
Without giving Midorima a chance to recover, Aomine immediately launched a blistering fast break. The intensity in the gym spiked, with every set of eyes fixated on his next move.
Midorima's determination flared — he couldn't let Aomine score again.
Clenching his teeth, he pushed his body to the limit, chasing after Aomine with everything he had.
But no matter how hard he tried, Aomine remained just out of reach. His handles and agility were on another level, making it nearly impossible to close the gap.
Takao watched the chase unfold and shook his head with a wry smile. "Unreal… He's still widening the gap even while dribbling."
Despite the frustration, Takao quickly readied himself to provide backup.
As the two entered the paint, Aomine barely acknowledged Midorima's presence. He gathered the ball effortlessly and took off for a layup. Midorima refused to give in, leaping up with him, stretching out his long arms for the block.
Then, the referee's whistle pierced through the tension. "Beep!"
Midorima had made contact with Aomine mid-air, drawing a foul. The collision threw Aomine off balance.
But in that split second, Aomine's raw talent shone through.
Adjusting his body mid-air, he reversed his arm motion and flicked the ball behind him towards the hoop. The move was fluid, like a work of art.
"Bang!" The ball banked off the backboard and swished cleanly through the net.
The crowd erupted, cheers echoing throughout the gym.
"The basket counts! And one!" the referee's voice rang out.
As Aomine landed, he turned to face Shūtoku's players with a smirk. "Is that all you've got?" His voice dripped with confidence, almost toying with them.
Then, with even more arrogance, he added, "The only one who can beat me is me. You guys don't even come close."
Shūtoku's players bristled at his words, but they knew that in sports, only skill and results mattered.
—
With the referee's whistle, "Beep!" the halftime buzzer sounded. "End of the second quarter! Ten-minute break!"
The tense atmosphere on the court eased slightly as both teams retreated to their locker rooms.
After Aomine's dominant stretch, the scoreboard read 50:64. Shūtoku trailed Tōō by 14 points at the half.
Midorima had struggled in the second quarter, locked down by Aomine's relentless defense, barely getting any good looks at the basket. Meanwhile, Aomine's offense was a storm, tearing through Shūtoku's defense with ease.
In the stands, Kise sat with a serious expression, staring at the scoreboard with unease.
"Shūtoku's in trouble…" he muttered. His mind replayed the first quarter, when Shūtoku had actually led by one. But now, they had been outscored by 15 points since Aomine unleagh his animal instinct. The weight of that number felt crushing.
Kise sighed. "Aomine… this guy's a freak." He knew how powerful Aomine was and how difficult it was to take him down.
But he also believed that Shūtoku wouldn't give up. They would fight tooth and nail in the second half to mount a comeback. This game was far from over.
Kagami clenched his fists, his eyes burning with excitement. "So this is the best power forward from middle school—Aomine. He's insane!" His fighting spirit soared, eager for his own chance to challenge Aomine.
Nearby, Nijimura shook his head with a sigh. "Man… this is just Aomine being Aomine." He had seen firsthand how unstoppable Aomine could be when he got serious.
Seated quietly, Shiro's gaze was locked onto Midorima. He was deep in thought. 'Is there still one more chance left…?'
Then, without a word, he suddenly stood up.
"I need to step out for a bit," he announced.
He quickly left the stands, leaving the others confused.
Momoi watched him go and whispered, "Be careful." She trusted that Shiro had a reason for leaving and knew he was up to something important.
So she remained in her seat, patiently waiting for his return.