Compared to the heated discussions going on at Kaijo, things were way quieter on the Too bench. No one asked how Aomine did what he did, and frankly, Aomine had zero interest in explaining it. In his mind, this team only needed one guy: him.
Momoi looked at the eerily silent bench, sighed inwardly, and finally broke the silence.
"Daiki, that thing you just did... what was that?"
"It's my move. The Zone. Learned it back in middle school, after graduation"
Aomine replied casually.
He was still pretty friendly when talking to Momoi — if anyone else had asked, they'd be lucky to leave with their dignity intact. Or teeth.
"That kind of crazy move... you can't use it forever, right?"
Aomine paused for a moment before answering,
"Doesn't matter. I'll crush them before that becomes a problem."
"Which is why" he added with a smirk, "just give me the ball and watch greatness happen."
…
"This is ridiculous, man. What kind of overpowered cheat code was that?" grumbled Kise as he walked back onto the court.
Kasamatsu smacked him on the head with a classic karate-chop.
"Quit whining. Aren't you part of the Generation of Miracles too? Don't you have a big flashy move or something?"
Kise grinned through the pain.
"Aomine never used that trick before! And c'mon, even among the Miracles, there's still levels to this madness!"
Kota gave Kise a quick glance. The guy was complaining, sure — but the fire in his eyes said otherwise.
"It's fine" Kota said, rubbing his nose. "He can't keep that ridiculous form up forever."
"Anyway, he can't pass the ball. If he breaks in, just put more pressure on him"
Timeout ended. Game resumed.
Imayoshi inbounded directly to Aomine and ran to the corner, making space for the team's signature move:
"Everyone get out of the way and let the Ace cook."
Aomine stared down Kise, then glanced at the paint. Kaijo had clearly packed the lane to keep him from driving easily, leaving the perimeter wide open.
But come on — this was Aomine Daiki. At this point in his career, he was basically Kobe Bryant if Kobe never heard of passing.
A spark flashed in his eyes. One explosive jab step — and he was gone. Pure instinct, zero hesitation. Blew by Kise in a single move, skipped past Kaijo's help defenders, and hammered down a dunk like he was mad at the rim.
Kota watched the slam and whistled under his breath.
"Doesn't matter how many of you there are. The only one who can beat me... is me."
Aomine turned to shoot a glare at Kise and Kota, dropped that dramatic line like a movie villain, and strutted away like he had theme music playing in his head.
"…Uh oh, Kota."
Kota turned to see Kise staring at his own hand, trembling. His voice shook too.
"I think I've been cursed or something, man. I suddenly really want to go full offense mode. Like, I need to take him one-on-one. I wanna destroy that smug jerk so bad."
Kota blinked, then smirked.
"Honestly? I thought you were having a mental breakdown. Glad to see the real you, genius."
He clapped Kise on the shoulder.
"Permission granted. Go give that drama king the spanking he deserves."
…
"What the hell is with this guy?" Aomine muttered, watching Kise chasing him like a golden retriever with a vendetta.
Since that last dunk, Kise had gone berserk. He was on Aomine like glue, both on offense and defense. But in the Zone, Aomine was still comfortably winning the duel. Kise barely managed four points under Aomine's suffocating defense, while Aomine scored like it was a free-for-all buffet.
End of the first quarter: 9–24.
The whole quarter was basically a track meet with two guys racing and everyone else along for the ride. Kota usually hated the "give-the-ball-to-the-ace-and-pray" strategy, but once Aomine went Zone-mode... well, sometimes you just have to lock the doors and let nature take its course.
(Not that Kise appreciated being called nature in this metaphor.)
This approach disrupted Aomine's rhythm, drained his stamina, and sped up Kise's growth curve. I mean, come on—how often do you get a training dummy like Aomine in full beast mode?
Kota had read the manga. He knew how busted Kise could get when he turned up. Once he unlocked his full power, the guy might as well be called the Final Boss of High School Basketball. "Perfect Copy" wasn't just a gimmick — it was terrifying. If he gets any better, we'll need to call in a superhero — because regular athletes clearly aren't enough.
Kise plopped onto the bench, panting like he'd just run a marathon.
"Sorry, everyone... I got carried away and still got wrecked."
Kasamatsu pulled out a paper fan—where did he even get that?—and smack hit Kise on the head.
"You knew it was dumb and did it anyway. Are you brain-dead?! Our ace is a full-time drama queen, I swear."
Then he shot Kota a death glare. If Kota hadn't promised he had a plan, no way would Kasamatsu have allowed Kise to go full anime rival mode.
Kota scratched his cheek awkwardly. Honestly, Kise's urge to challenge Aomine was so strong, Kota figured he might as well let him. It would help Kise grow — and hey, someone had to distract the guy.
Truth is, Kota originally planned to defend Aomine himself. Not that it would work or anything, but at least it'd let Kise rest.
"It's fine" Kota said, glancing at Aomine. "That monster's probably close to burning out anyway."
"Catch your breath, genius. Next quarter's on us. I'm taking the beast."
…
"Daiki, maybe you should sit out for a bit" Momoi said, concerned.
She'd watched that whole quarter-long duel. Sure, Aomine was dominating, but even gods need rest. And since Too was ahead, giving their ace a breather made sense.
Imayoshi adjusted his glasses — the only one on Too who didn't actively hate Aomine. Back when Aomine was absent, the team had spirit but no wins. Now, Imayoshi had made peace with it:
Winning makes everything else go away.
"The manager's right. Take a break, Aomine. We've got this."
Aomine gave Imayoshi a blank look, then turned to Momoi.
"Momoi, I can't rest. These guys aren't pushovers."
"And trust my teammates with the game? Please. If I'm not in, we're getting smoked."
That last line was definitely meant for Imayoshi.
Before he could respond, Wakamatsu, the team's resident rage-machine, snapped.
"What the hell did you just say?!"
"Did I stutter? If you guys actually want to win, shut up and let me rest my way."
Then he closed his eyes like he was meditating before a fight.
Wakamatsu looked ready to explode—but deep down, he knew Aomine wasn't wrong. Without him, they had no shot.
Momoi bit her lip as the silence returned. This was exactly why she joined Too in the first place — to prevent this scenario. And yet, here they were.
"I don't think I've been any help at all…" The helplessness weighed on her as she turned her eyes to Kise.
"Why is it that Kise can change things…? Maybe it's my fault Daiki turned out this way. Maybe I shouldn't have followed him at all..."