Keeping the Suspense

After swatting Aomine's hook shot, Takao quickly secured the rebound and wasted no time kicking it out to Midorima.

Aomine reacted just as fast. He was like an impenetrable wall, sprinting in front of Midorima, spreading his arms wide, and taking a defensive stance.

His eyes were dead serious—he knew that once Midorima unleashed his animal instinct, he was not an opponent to be underestimated.

Facing Aomine's defense, Midorima's gaze sharpened, as if seeing straight through his opponent's intentions.

Then, without hesitation, he rose into a fadeaway jumper, his body forming a perfect arc in the air. Aomine gritted his teeth, muscles tensing as he exploded upward, aiming for the block.

But right before releasing the ball, Midorima suddenly froze. A sly glint flashed in his eyes.

"Damn, a pump fake!" Aomine instantly realized he'd been baited. Midorima's flawless execution had forced a slight opening in his defense.

Seizing the moment, Midorima jumped again—this time, a pure, textbook pull-up jumper. His release was lightning-fast, and the ball carved a perfect parabola through the air.

Swish!

Nothing but net. The crisp snap of the net sounded like a rallying cry.

The crowd erupted as the scoreboard flickered— 53:64.

Just 11 points now. The momentum shift reignited the tension in the game.

On the court, Aomine and Midorima locked eyes. Their competitive spirits reached their peak—they both knew that every single possession from this point on could decide the outcome of the match.

Aomine's eyes burned with resolve. He immediately signaled for the ball and, the moment he caught it, took off like a blur down the court.

Midorima was right there with him, laser-focused. Taking a deep breath, he matched Aomine's intensity, never losing sight of him.

The atmosphere in the gym was suffocating, all eyes fixed on them. Everyone understood the gravity of this possession—if Midorima could stop Aomine here, then Shutoku's comeback was truly on.

Aomine let out a wild, confident laugh.

"Haha! You've gotta be kidding me! You really think you can stop me?"

His words dripped with both arrogance and challenge, as if declaring to the entire world that he was still the king of the court.

Then, in an instant, Aomine hit top speed from zero, moving like a flash of lightning. With a single sharp crossover, he created separation.

And just as suddenly, he slammed on the brakes—stopping on a dime like time itself had frozen.

Midorima, caught by the sudden deceleration, lost his balance for just a fraction of a second. A flicker of surprise crossed his face.

Without missing a beat, Aomine flicked the ball behind Midorima's back.

Midorima's eyes widened as he instinctively turned to track the ball.

But Aomine was already on the move. With a quick spin to the left, he zipped past Midorima and recovered the ball cleanly—executing a textbook inside-out dribble move, leaving Midorima trailing behind.

As Aomine blew past him, Shutoku's big man, Otsubo, rushed over to help on defense.

But Aomine didn't even spare him a glance. He gathered the ball mid-stride and launched himself into the air. His eyes locked onto the rim—his mind focused solely on scoring.

"Not so fast!" Otsubo roared, leaping up with everything he had to contest the shot.

Aomine, however, simply smirked. Mid-air, he initiated contact—absorbing the bump from Otsubo.

For a brief moment, his body wavered off balance, but his eyes remained steady.

"Damn it! I overcommitted!" Otsubo realized too late—his aggressive leap had carried him forward, violating Aomine's vertical space.

Beep!

The referee's whistle shrieked, but nobody paid it any attention—all eyes were glued to Aomine's next move.

Even while off-balance, Aomine kept his composure. With a swift adjustment, he executed a graceful reverse layup, swinging the ball under the rim and softly banking it in from the other side.

The moment the ball kissed the backboard and dropped through the net, the stadium erupted.

"Are you serious?! How is that even humanly possible?!"

"Unbelievable! He lost his balance and still pulled off a move like that!"

Shockwaves rippled through the crowd. No matter how many times they watched Aomine play, he always managed to defy logic.

The referee's voice rang out over the noise.

"Basket counts! And one!"

Calm as ever, Aomine stepped up to the free-throw line and easily sank the extra point. His expression remained unreadable, as if everything had gone exactly as expected.

The lead stretched back to 14 points— 53:67.

"That's just classic Aomine" Kise muttered, shaking his head. The move Aomine had just pulled off required not just body control but also supreme core strength. Kise knew he wasn't at that level yet.

Kagami stood frozen, deep in thought. Even if it were me defending that, could I have stopped him?

A flicker of determination flashed in Kagami's eyes. I have to get stronger if I want to compete with him.

As Shutoku inbounded the ball, Midorima once again took control of the offense. Across from him, Aomine squared up in defense—yet another battle between the two was about to unfold.

Midorima's eyes gleamed with a competitive fire. He knew that to defeat Aomine, he had to surpass his own limits.

Bang!

Midorima moved decisively, executing a pound dribble step-back into another fadeaway. The motion was identical to his previous shot—but this time, he was much quicker.

Aomine, guarding him closely, felt the difference immediately.

He's faster than before.

But no matter how quick, Aomine was still confident he could keep up.

This time, though, Aomine didn't jump immediately—he studied Midorima's movement, trusting his own athleticism to react late and still contest the shot.

Midorima, however, didn't hesitate. He launched himself into the air, his release even faster than before.

Aomine was caught slightly off guard. So this is the difference when he's in his animal instinct...

Still, he rose up to challenge the shot.

But for some reason, as he jumped, he felt like Midorima's shooting hand was just out of reach—like the ball was slipping further away.

The game was far from over.