On the basketball court, the duel between Haizaki Shogo and Aomine Daiki had reached a different dimension.
What was happening now could only be described as guided basketball.
Haizaki was using the same "state" as Aomine, continuously pressing and colliding with him—forcing Aomine toward the second gate of his limits, pushing him to break through, to evolve beyond what he already was.
It sounded simple: clash, pressure, and force growth.
But in reality, executing "guided play" at this level was almost impossible.
And Aomine Daiki… did he even need guidance?
No one knew.
But Haizaki was trying.
He was actively guiding Aomine toward the second door of the Zone, not by teaching or instructing—but by overwhelming him with equal strength, forcing stimulation, forcing adaptation, forcing evolution.
It was a painful, brutal form of guidance.
A forced transformation through resistance.
And this… was the "favor" Haizaki Shogo was repaying.
He had once taken something from Aomine—his free-flowing instinct, his raw expression of play, something that technically wasn't even "stolen" in the traditional sense, but still originated from him.
To Haizaki, that origin mattered.
Even if no one else acknowledged it.
If it came from him… then I owe him.
That was Haizaki's logic.
So he chose not to simply dominate.
Instead, he stepped back into the same level, controlled his rhythm, and used pressure—not destruction—to push Aomine upward.
Even if he had already climbed past that mountain himself.
The buzzer signaled the end of the second quarter.
Both players naturally disengaged, returning to their benches as if nothing unusual had happened—except the entire stadium still felt shaken.
Haizaki accepted a towel and water from Shimizu Rena.
"Don't worry," he said calmly. "I know exactly what I'm doing."
"...Mm." she nodded, still uncertain.
=======
On the other side, Fukuda Sogo coach Ichiro Kudo looked at Haizaki with a complicated expression.
Haizaki Shogo… he's not just strong. He disrupts everything. Steals skills. Breaks rhythm. He's a disaster on the court.
For their opponents, the biggest obstacle was clear:
Haizaki Shogo.
Kudo rubbed his head, exhaling quietly.
In his era, players like this simply didn't exist.
Now? There were several monsters at once.
========
In the Seirin section, confusion filled the air.
"Unbelievable… Aomine Daiki, the ace of Generation of Miracles, is being suppressed…" someone muttered.
"Blackie, was Haizaki always this strong?" Kiyoshi Teppei asked.
"No," Kuroko replied quietly. "He was strong before… but not like this."
The gap between them felt unreal.
Something unreachable.
Kiyoshi spoke up after a moment.
"Talent is important… but so is effort. They must have trained far beyond what we can imagine."
That single sentence slightly lifted the atmosphere.
Especially for Kagami Taiga.
His eyes sharpened again.
"I'll get stronger too."
======
Three minutes passed quickly.
Players returned to the court.
The whistle blew.
A streak of blue lightning burst forward.
Aomine Daiki had entered his Zone.
Haizaki smiled as he watched him.
So this is how it feels… when I'm on the receiving end.
He felt no fear—only curiosity.
Aomine's dribble became unpredictable, fluid, untouchable.
He leapt—
BOOM!
The ball snapped through the net.
Haizaki narrowed his eyes.
So that's your growth…
Then he brought the ball up the court.
He faced Aomine directly.
And said:
"I'll return the favor, Aomine."
"...Huh?"
Haizaki didn't explain.
Instead, he accelerated.
The rhythm changed instantly.
His body entered a focused state—cold, precise.
And then—
BOOM!
He blew past Aomine and dunked the ball with brutal simplicity.
Aomine's eyes widened.
Blood vessels tensed beneath his gaze.
For the first time, he felt it clearly—
This is… the same level as me.
Or perhaps worse.
Haizaki exited his state immediately after scoring.
Not out of exhaustion.
But intention.
He was conserving energy—and more importantly, controlling the duel.
If I stay at full output… I'll overwhelm him instead of guiding him.
That's not the point.
Haizaki's goal wasn't victory alone.
It was evolution.
Aomine needed to see something beyond instinct.
A second door.
=======
On the bench, Aomine received the ball again, his expression shifting slightly.
Confusion… suspicion… excitement.
But he ignored it.
Because the game continued.
And so did the duel.