"It's over… let's go…" Aomine stood up, and Shidou Ryusei's group followed him out.
But as soon as they stepped outside the gym, it was raining.
Momoi complained, "The sky was clear when we came—how did it start raining now?"
Chizuru noticed a car slowly approaching. "It's fine, come with us."
Momoi said shyly, "Wouldn't that be too much trouble…?"
"It's no trouble at all."
"Then just dropping us at the station is enough."
"Alright."
Jack drove Momoi and Aomine to the station, then took Shidou and the others home.
"We're here, Miss Chizuru."
"Thank you, Uncle Jack!"
"My pleasure."
---
On the way back, Kise didn't say a word. Chizuru noticed he looked off and thought about inviting him over for dinner.
Kise shook his head and refused, looking completely listless.
Chizuru glanced at Shidou Ryusei, who shrugged, showing he didn't know what was wrong either.
That night, Shidou went to the indoor court. Midorima's shooting form from today's match kept replaying in his mind.
He stood outside the three-point line, the ball spinning in his hands.
He adjusted his posture, imitating Midorima's movements. The ball arced through the air… and bounced off the rim.
"Tsk… still a bit off."
He picked up the ball again.
In his mind, every detail of Midorima's form played back—the bend of his knees, the tightness of his core, the flick of his fingers.
Shidou tried again.
Swish.
Then again.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
Three straight shots went in, perfectly copying Midorima's form.
"Still not enough…" he muttered, backing up toward half-court.
First try—airball.
Second—backboard.
Third—rimmed out.
"Damn it!"
He calmed his breathing. Inhale… hold… exhale.
Swish.
"It worked!"
He kept shooting until sweat soaked his clothes and his arms burned.
"Poker Face's shooting really eats up stamina…"
But he couldn't stop.
Ten threes in a row—swish, swish, swish.
Finally, exhausted, he sat under the hoop. Dozens of balls lay scattered around him.
"This is so boring… How does Poker Face keep doing this…? But imagining using it in a match… that's exciting."
He remembered Midorima's final state—green air currents swirling.
No matter how he tried, he couldn't copy it.
Because that wasn't talent. It was effort.
---
The next morning, Shidou and Chizuru opened the door—and saw Kise standing there, hair messy, eyes bloodshot, looking half-dead.
"Ah!!!" Chizuru screamed and hid behind Shidou.
"Sister Chizuru, it's me—Kise Ryota!"
"Huh?! Kise?! What happened to you?!"
"I… didn't sleep all night," Kise said weakly. "I kept trying to copy Midorima's shooting… but I couldn't do it."
Shidou handed him bread and milk. "Eat before you collapse on the way to school."
Kise stuffed the bread into his mouth. "Little Shidou, don't forget your promise!"
"Huh? What promise?"
"Perfect Copy!"
"I know, I know."
---
They arrived at Kaijo High about 20 minutes later.
Shidou went to his class—and saw Kise following him.
"Hey, why are you here?"
"I asked the coach to put me in the same class."
They slept in the back row until noon.
After lunch with Chizuru, they went to basketball practice.
Coach Takeuchi gathered everyone.
"First, congratulations—we advanced."
"Second, in ten days is the IH tournament. Our first opponent may be Tōō or Shutoku. Training will be tougher."
"And… Shidou might miss the first game. He has to go to America."
Everyone looked at Shidou.
"I'll try my best to come back," he said awkwardly.
Kasamatsu put an arm around him. "Hey, don't look like that. You think we can't win without you?"
"Exactly!" Kobori said.
"And don't forget me!" Kise grinned. "I'm strong too."
"Yeah, Kise's unreliable sometimes," Hayakawa laughed, "but he's still got skills."
Shidou didn't know what to say. He thought leaving during an important game would feel like betrayal—but his teammates supported him.
"Alright," Coach Takeuchi clapped. "Enough talking. Let's train."
And practice began.