Imayoshi Shoichi took the basketball passed over by Sakurai Ryo. As he looked at Kaijo High's players already fully set on defense, his eyes narrowed into slits.
As expected… for ordinary people like us, every single one of the Generation of Miracles is a monster. To pull off a desperate comeback in a situation like this… it's honestly terrifying.
After crossing half-court, Imayoshi immediately passed the ball to Aomine Daiki. In this situation, the safest and most reliable choice—and the main scoring route—was to put the ball in Aomine's hands.
Aomine dribbled rhythmically, the steady thump… thump… echoing across the court. In front of him, Kise Ryouta radiated an overwhelming presence, as if his entire body glowed with a golden light.
An immovable king… interesting.
The ball swayed left and right before Aomine burst past Kise. Under the raised arms of Mitsuhiro Hayakawa, he switched hands mid-drive and easily sent the ball into the net.
The ace of Tōō Academy, Aomine Daiki, scored once again with ease, keeping the point gap steady.
But for Tōō, a stagnant score wasn't good news. For Kaijo, it was the clearest signal for a counterattack.
Kise received the ball again from Yukio Kasamatsu and drove into the paint. Aomine had already stepped in close, preparing for tight defense.
"Thump!" "Thump!"
The sound of the ball hitting the floor rang clearly. Compared to Aomine, Kise was still a bit slower—but Aomine seized his chance, his large hand shooting forward, fingers brushing the ball.
But the result was unexpected. Aomine's pupils shrank in shock.
He had touched the ball—but failed to steal it. From the other side came a force that knocked his hand away.
Kise maintained possession, then leapt into the air—
A one-handed dunk.
Dominant. Explosive.
This basket—breaking through Aomine's defense head-on—sent a ripple through the crowd, their eyes twitching in disbelief.
On the sidelines, Kagami Taiga wore a complicated expression. His brows were tightly furrowed, his sharp eyes wide and unblinking as he stared at Kise. His mouth hung slightly open in shock, as if he had forgotten to breathe.
After a while, Kagami coughed, a stifled feeling in his chest, before finally showing a defeated expression.
That moment made one thing painfully clear.
Whether it was Aomine, Haizaki Shogo, or even Kise standing before him… every one of them stood far, far above him.
So… my light really has dimmed that much.
Kagami admitted it himself. Yet, from somewhere deep inside, a strange excitement surged forth—joy, anticipation, the desire to chase. It filled him with hope and longing for basketball in Japan.
In Tōō Academy's bench area, Coach Harasawa Katsunori watched Kise closely. With his experience, he had already noticed something unusual.
"Is it worth it…? Is it worth it…?" he muttered repeatedly.
Beside him, Satsuki Momoi stood with tears shimmering in her eyes, ready to spill at any moment.
In her vision, two figures—one blue, one gold—clashed relentlessly.
Memories of their countless practice matches during their days at Teiko Junior High flashed before her eyes—moments filled with sweat, laughter, joy, and playful fights. They appeared, then shattered just as quickly.
Momoi lowered her head, wiping her tears with her sleeve. When she looked up again, her gaze burned with intensity, stray strands of hair falling beside her face, carrying a quiet sadness.
This… this is what Aomine-kun truly wants, isn't it? Just like when he played with Haizaki-kun… his eyes right now are full of joy and longing.
On the other side of the stands, players from Fukuda Sogo and Shutoku High stared at Kise in shock after witnessing that failed steal.
At the same time, their peripheral vision drifted toward Haizaki Shogo, seated in the front row—a beautiful woman on his left, and Midorima Shintaro on his right.
A single thought surfaced in everyone's mind:
Monsters really are monsters.
Haizaki's earlier conclusion had just been proven. Everyone now clearly understood the terrifying effect of the "Immovable King Form." Once again, awe toward the Generation of Miracles filled their hearts.
Back on the court, Tōō regained possession. The ball returned to Aomine. Seeing Kise already back on defense, Aomine let out a faint sigh.
"You should've decided earlier. Making that choice now… it's already too late."
With that, he drove forward, reached the half-court, and faced Kise head-on. With a simple hook shot, he effortlessly sent the ball through the net.
Aomine had already figured it out—Kise was preparing to compete with him in scoring, waiting for the perfect moment to decide the match.
As the ball dropped through the hoop, Aomine turned, leaving a quiet remark by Kise's ear:
"I'll be waiting."
Possession returned to Kaijo, and naturally, the ball went to Kise.
But the moment it reached his hands, he passed it off after a quick switch—then sprinted toward the basket, leaping high into the air.
Moriyama Yoshitaka caught the pass and immediately sent it flying again.
This setup—this movement—
It was an alley-oop.
And it was executed perfectly.
Kise pressed the ball down with one hand, his expression fierce and twisted, smashing it toward the hoop—right over Aomine, who had leapt at some unknown moment to contest.
"BOOM!"
The heavy sound of the dunk echoed across the court. Even the backboard trembled, as if groaning: Aomine, Kise—you brats, take it easy on my back!
Aomine said nothing. His right hand tingled, almost numb, as if losing sensation.
So this… is Kise's true form?
I like it. Let's keep going.
The third quarter neared its end. Aomine took the ball and, just before the buzzer, launched a three-pointer from the sideline.
For the first time all quarter, the score gap shifted—by a single point.
Tōō Academy vs Kaijo High: 74–51.
Tōō still held a commanding lead. But in the third quarter, the two teams had been evenly matched, neither gaining the upper hand.
As the quarter ended, players from both teams exhaled in relief and returned to their benches to receive instructions from their coaches.
In the stands, most spectators were left speechless, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the game.
Midorima Shintaro let out a sigh, murmuring regretfully, "What a pity."
Haizaki Shogo remained silent, deep in thought. The third quarter had been intense—but that was likely Kise's limit. If things continued like this in the fourth, something might go wrong.
And Aomine… he hadn't even used the Zone or his animalistic instincts—let alone Perfect Copy.
Which meant—
Was all of this… deliberate?