"Beep! The Third Quarter Begins!"
As the referee's whistle blew, the tension in the arena instantly skyrocketed.
All eyes were locked onto the court, anticipation thick in the air as the third quarter was about to begin.
From the stands, Shiro settled into his seat, his gaze cutting through the crowd to find Midorima on the court. A glimmer of expectation flashed in his eyes.
"You were gone for quite a while. Where'd you run off to?" Nijimura asked curiously, noticing that Shiro had disappeared earlier.
Shiro smiled casually, replying with a laid-back tone, "Nothing much, just ran into an old friend and had a little chat."
His eyes once again locked onto Midorima, thoughts swirling in his mind. The reason he had given Midorima that little nudge was twofold: first, to see if Midorima could tap into his own "animal instinct" and second, to test how Aomine would respond under pressure from a true shooter.
Shutoku's players walked onto the court with a do-or-die mentality. A 14-point deficit was a massive hurdle, and they knew that if they wanted to win, they had to give it everything they had.
Meanwhile, Too Academy's players remained relaxed. They had already built a solid lead in the first half, and as long as they maintained their rhythm, they believed they could finish the game in dominant fashion.
Aomine stood on the court, smirking as he sized up the Shutoku players. His tone was cocky as he taunted them, "Yo, you guys still got some fight left in you?"
Midorima, however, wasn't rattled by Aomine's words. His focus remained locked onto Aomine, watching his every move, trying to decipher the secret behind his instinctual play.
Aomine could feel Midorima's gaze on him. He was a little wary but quickly brushed it off, his confidence unwavering. After all, the only player who could beat him was himself.
The third quarter was about to begin. Both teams had set their game plans, and the crowd held their breath, bracing for what was sure to be an intense battle.
Even as a spectator, Shiro couldn't help but look forward to the next developments, eager to see what surprises this game had in store.
The Third Quarter Tips Off
Shutoku knew they had to make a statement in this quarter if they had any hope of turning the game around.
Takao brought the ball up the court, quickly dishing it to Midorima—their star shooter and the best chance they had at cutting the lead.
As soon as Midorima caught the ball, he felt Aomine's presence—his defense was suffocating, like an impenetrable wall blocking any easy shots. But Midorima didn't waver. His eyes sharpened, and he made his move.
Midorima drove to the right, his motion swift and decisive. Aomine immediately closed in, ready to shut him down.
At that moment, Takao suddenly stepped up and set a screen for Midorima.
"A screen?"
Aomine's eyes flickered in surprise, but he reacted quickly.
"You think that's enough to stop me? Don't make me laugh!"
Aomine brushed past Takao's screen, using his quick footwork to recover almost instantly.
But Shutoku wasn't done yet. Miyaji stepped in and set another screen, giving Midorima even more space.
"Double screen?"
The crowd gasped.
"No way!"
The unexpected strategy took everyone by surprise.
"Tch, well, I guess that's one way to get an open shot" Kise muttered with a small smirk, watching from the sidelines.
He knew this was Shutoku's only real option. Midorima was their most reliable scorer, and if he couldn't shake Aomine, their offense would collapse.
After using two screens, Midorima finally found a sliver of space. Without hesitation, he pulled up for a three-pointer.
"Heh… you really think two screens are enough?"
Aomine's voice suddenly rang in Midorima's ears.
Midorima's pupils shrank—he had barely finished his shooting motion when he saw Aomine already closing the gap.
Despite the double screen, Aomine had somehow powered through with his absurd speed.
Like a lightning bolt, he soared into the air, extending his arm to full length—his wingspan covering Midorima's entire shooting angle.
Midorima tried to adjust, attempting a fadeaway, but Aomine was too fast.
Before Midorima could fully execute his shot, Aomine's hand slammed the ball out of the air.
A devastating block.
The ball was swatted away, bouncing loudly against the hardwood.
"WTF… that was insane!"
"Two screens and he still blocked it!?"
The arena erupted in shock.
Aomine stood there, his lips curling into a confident grin as if to say, This game is already over.
Midorima, however, wasn't discouraged. Instead, he continued to watch Aomine closely, analyzing every movement.
He stood still on the sideline, eyes locked on Aomine, studying his playstyle like a puzzle waiting to be solved.
Aomine moved like a beast—agile, unpredictable, completely unrestricted.
Midorima muttered under his breath, "Free… instinctual… raw."
As Aomine forced another turnover and launched into a fast break, Midorima's thoughts started to piece together.
"Playing without restraint… like a wild animal?"
Midorima's grip on the ball tightened. A realization was dawning on him.
Shiro's words echoed in his mind: To win, you must free yourself from the constraints of traditional basketball.
His hands trembled slightly — not from fear, but from anticipation.
Then, ever so faintly, a small smirk formed on his lips.
"…So that's how it is."