The Game Begins!

"Oh ho, the tension is real!"

Imayoshi narrowed his eyes, a smirk creeping onto his face. His tone carried a hint of provocation, as if he was relishing the intensity in the air. His sharp gaze locked onto Takao, who nodded slightly, his expression serious and focused. His eyes glimmered with anticipation and nervous energy—he knew Imayoshi wasn't just any player. He was a high-IQ playmaker, a strategist on the court. Going head-to-head with him would be a tough challenge.

"Well, well, just don't go all out on me, alright? The real showdown is between those two, after all." Imayoshi said, tilting his head toward Midorimaand Aomine, his eyes filled with meaning.

Takao didn't respond. He simply locked eyes with Imayoshi, unreadable, his mind racing with possibilities.

As both teams took their positions, the tension in the gym was almost tangible. It felt less like a game and more like a battle about to erupt.

The referee held the ball in one hand, raising the other high, his expression focused and stern—his silent question was clear: "Ready?" Then, with a swift motion, he tossed the ball into the air. The orange sphere arced upward, carrying the weight of every player's determination, igniting the crowd's passion.

Tip-off! The game was on!

Wakamatsu and Otsubo jumped simultaneously, eyes locked on the ball.

Smack! Otsubo tapped it toward Takao, but before he could secure it, a shadow flashed before him — Imayoshi lunged in like a phantom, intercepting the ball mid-air.

Takao's eyes widened in shock. That speed…!

Without hesitation, Imayoshi took off down the court, launching an immediate fast break. Takao gritted his teeth and sprinted after him, determined to recover.

But Imayoshi was quick, deceptively so. Takao struggled to close the gap, only managing to catch up near the three-point line.

Imayoshi didn't slow down. Takao stretched out his arm, attempting to cut him off, but Imayoshi smoothly sidestepped his defense.

"Man, your transition defense is pretty solid. Guess I've got no choice" Imayoshi said with a smirk, his tone relaxed but eyes gleaming mischievously.

Takao's instincts screamed at him — something's coming.

Sure enough, Imayoshi flicked a no-look pass behind him. The ball sailed gracefully through the air.

Takao's gaze snapped toward it—straight into the waiting hands of Sakurai.

"Here comes our secret weapon!" Imayoshi grinned knowingly.

"S-sorry!" Sakurai muttered as he caught the ball beyond the arc. But before anyone could react, he fired off a quick-release three-pointer.

His movement was as fast as lightning, the shot arching perfectly through the air.

Swish!

The ball sliced through the net — first blood to Tōō!

Takao's breath hitched. That was fast… and deadly accurate.

But then, a smirk crept onto his face. "If it's a three-point shootout you want, you've come to the right place."

He turned to Midorima, his eyes brimming with trust.

Without hesitation, Takao inbounded the ball. Before Tōō's defense could react, Midorima had already positioned himself past half-court.

And then — he shot.

Swish!

Nothing but net.

The crowd erupted as Midorima's answer ball landed cleanly, instantly swinging the momentum back to Shūtoku.

"Sugoi!"

"Answer ball!"

Fans roared in excitement—just the opening minutes, and already a three-point shootout was underway!

This wasn't just a game. It was a spectacle, a battle of precision, strategy, and psychological warfare.

Aomine, standing on the sidelines, chuckled as he signaled for the ball.

Imayoshi didn't hesitate — he fired off a sharp pass. Aomine caught it effortlessly.

As Tōō surged forward, Shūtoku's defense was already in position. Their eyes were locked on Aomine, their bodies tense.

Standing beyond the arc, Kimura swallowed nervously.

"Damn… this guy's pressure is insane"

Aomine exuded an overwhelming aura—like a beast ready to devour its prey.

And then—

"Whoosh!"

In the blink of an eye, Aomine vanished from Kimura's sight.

What?!

One moment he was there — the next, he had already broken into the paint.

The crowd gasped at the sheer speed of his movement.

Kimura, left in disbelief, could only watch as Aomine soared.

Otsubo wasn't having it, though. "Generation of Miracles or not, I'm sending this back."

As Aomine rose for the layup, Otsubo leaped to block him.

But Aomine only grinned.

Mid-air, he spun 360 degrees, effortlessly slipping past Otsubo's outstretched hands. His movement was so fluid it looked like a dance.

And then, with a soft flick—

Layup.

The ball kissed the glass and fell through the net.

Aomine landed smoothly, barely winded. Flawless.

The gym erupted.

A storm of cheers, applause, and pure disbelief filled the air.

This game had only just begun — and it was already legendary.