Inside the Too Academy Locker Room
"Sakurai, you brought it, right?" Aomine leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed, but there was a glint of anticipation in his eyes. His voice carried an easygoing tone — after all, they were leading by 14 points. He figured Midorima had no way to turn things around now.
Sakurai responded immediately, standing up and quickly heading to his locker. His movements were swift and practiced. He opened the locker and took out an elegant box of honey lemon slices.
"Of course!" he said warmly, as if proudly presenting his prize.
He handed the box to Aomine with a smile of expectation.
Aomine opened it, and the golden lemon slices glistened in the light, looking irresistibly fresh.
He casually popped one into his mouth. The balance of sweet and tangy flavors was just right—refreshing and invigorating. A satisfied grin spread across his face. "Damn, these are good!"
"Hey, hey! Leave some for us too!" Wakamatsu's voice suddenly rang out. Striding over, his eyes sparkled with the hunger of a man who had just spotted a gourmet treat.
Without hesitation, he reached into the box, grabbed a few slices, and tossed them into his mouth, savoring the taste with an expression of pure bliss.
Seeing Wakamatsu's actions, the rest of the team couldn't hold back. They quickly gathered around, each one eager to grab a piece. Soon, they were all enjoying the rare treat, their exhaustion momentarily fading away with the citrusy burst of flavor.
But Aomine, who had only eaten one slice, seemed different. He quietly sat back in his chair, closed his eyes, and simply took in the fleeting moment of calm.
"Feeling the burn a little?" Imayoshi muttered under his breath, his gaze fixed on Aomine. He knew Midorima wasn't an easy opponent and that, despite Aomine's dominance, the pressure he carried was real.
"Alright, enough slacking!" Harasawa suddenly clapped his hands, snapping everyone's attention back to him. His tone carried a mix of authority and confidence.
"For the second half, the plan is simple—keep setting screens for Aomine. Just keep feeding him the ball until their ace is completely broken." His words left no room for doubt.
The team nodded in agreement, their eyes filled with certainty. If they could take Midorima out of the equation, the rest of the game was as good as theirs.
After all, Too wasn't just a team — it was a collection of top-tier talent from all over. Each player had their own unique skills and strengths. And with Aomine leading the charge, victory felt inevitable.
Inside the Shutoku Locker Room
The atmosphere was heavy. The second quarter had taken its toll, and the mood in the room reflected the team's struggles.
Midorima had been completely shut down by Aomine's defense, and the 15-point deficit weighed on everyone like a boulder on their chest.
"Enough with the sulking" Coach Nakatani's voice cut through the silence like a knife. It carried the weight of authority, jolting the players out of their slump.
"For the second half, we're running a four-out, one-in strategy. Four of you will screen for Midorima, creating open looks for his threes." His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. "We're not just aiming for efficiency—we need to rain down threes to close the gap. Got it?"
"Yes, sir!" The team responded in unison, their voices laced with determination. No one was giving up.
Meanwhile, Midorima sat deep in thought. He kept replaying Aomine's movements in his mind, trying to decode the secret behind his explosive transformation. How was Aomine able to reach another level mid-game? What exactly was this zone he had tapped into?
Bang! Bang! Bang!
A sudden knock on the locker room door interrupted his thoughts.
The players exchanged confused glances. Who could be visiting them at this moment?
Takao reacted first, striding over to open the door.
Standing outside was a white-haired boy, his expression calm and composed, radiating an air of quiet confidence.
"Shiro?" Midorima immediately recognized him, his voice betraying a hint of surprise.
"Wait… you mean Fukui High's Kawakami Shiro? What's he doing here?" The rest of the team exchanged puzzled looks.
Shiro smiled. "I figured you might be stuck on something. Thought I'd drop by and give you a little guidance." His eyes held a glint of expectation.
Midorima blinked, momentarily taken aback. Then, as if regaining his usual composure, he scoffed and turned his head. "Hmph, I'm not struggling with anything."
But despite his words, there was an almost imperceptible flicker of anticipation in his gaze.
The rest of the team observed the exchange, their expressions filled with confusion. They had no idea what was going on, and the air in the room suddenly felt… strange.
Shiro chuckled before speaking again. "Basketball is all about adapting. To win, you have to read your opponent's strategy, adjust to their rhythm, and constantly refine your approach." His voice was steady, carrying an almost philosophical weight.
"The state Aomine taps into—that raw, unrestrained flow—it's about playing without limitations. Letting go of conventional thinking, pushing past hesitation, and embracing your instincts. Only then can you unlock your true potential."
His words hung in the air, resonating deeply.
Midorima listened in silence, a thoughtful look in his eyes. Something about what Shiro said struck a chord within him, like a door creaking open to a new understanding.
The rest of the team, however, remained utterly lost. They weren't sure if Shiro was giving a strategy talk or spouting riddles.
Shiro smirked. "That's all I wanted to say. How much you take from it is up to you."
With that, he turned to leave. His movements were deliberate, confident—like a player who always knew his next step.
Just before he stepped out, Midorima muttered under his breath, "…Thanks." It was barely audible, but Shiro caught it.
He turned back with a teasing grin. "Wow. Didn't think I'd live to hear Shintaro Midorima say 'thank you.' Anyway, my advice? Keep a close eye on Aomine. You might learn something."
Midorima's face reddened slightly, but he quickly turned away again, refusing to respond.
With one final chuckle, Shiro walked off, leaving Midorima to his thoughts.
As the door shut behind him, Midorima took a deep breath. He had been given something to think about—something that might just be the key to overcoming Aomine.
His gaze sharpened.
The second half was going to be different.