Everyone’s Expectations

Shutoku High School

The sound of basketballs hitting the hardwood echoed through the gym as Midorima stood beyond the three-point line, taking shot after shot.

His face remained expressionless, but with each attempt, he stepped further back until he was nearly parallel with the opposite hoop.

Midorima's shooting was pinpoint accurate. Every shot swished through the net cleanly, the sound crisp and satisfying.

Standing by the baseline, Takao silently retrieved the rebounds for him. He knew Midorima was feeling the pressure of the upcoming game, and this extra training session was his way of dealing with it.

"Here, take this." After they finished, Takao handed Midorima a bottle of water and opened one for himself, taking big gulps.

Chasing rebounds for so long had turned into an endurance workout of its own, leaving Takao exhausted.

Looking at Midorima, he suddenly asked, "Hey… is that Shiro guy really that scary?" His voice carried curiosity and doubt—he hadn't seen Shiro play in person and had no real grasp of his strength.

Midorima took a sip of water before countering with a question of his own:

"Aomine is strong, right?"

"Of course! He completely destroyed us!" Takao nodded emphatically. "But what does that have to do with this?"

"In middle school, Aomine never beat Shiro. Not even once. He could barely score against him."

Midorima's tone was heavy, as if trying to make Takao understand that the Generation of Miracles weren't all on the same level — Shiro's abilities were on an entirely different scale.

Throughout their time in middle school, Midorima had never been able to figure Shiro out. To him, even Akashi, with all his dominance, might rank behind Shiro in terms of sheer danger.

Hearing this, Takao froze. He had always assumed the members of the Generation of Miracles were close in strength. Aomine's win over Midorima last time could be explained by the Zone.

But Midorima's words made him realize that this time, their opponent was far stronger than they had imagined.

"You think the title 'Ace of the Generation of Miracles' is just for show?" Midorima shot Takao a sharp glance, his voice carrying a hint of reproach, as if scolding him for underestimating Shiro.

Then, he continued:

"And that's just Shiro. Fukui High's power forward was our middle school captain and once held the title of best PF in the country. Their point guard is Yuki Kawamura, the same guy who nearly beat us in the middle school finals. As for their shooting guard, you've probably heard of him recently—an insanely skilled sharpshooter. Honestly, the only weak spot on Fukui's roster is their center."

Takao nodded in agreement.

But as he processed Midorima's words, he fell into silence. Looking at it this way, Fukui High was a real powerhouse. Every position was filled with top-tier talent — except, of course, the center.

"Relax. We've got this! Don't underestimate our chemistry." Midorima's voice was steady, filled with confidence and determination.

Takao blinked, then scooped up a loose ball and passed it to Midorima.

"Yeah! Let's keep training!"

His tone was firmer now. He knew that only through relentless practice could they stand a chance in the game ahead.

Midorima let out a rare smile before launching another shot. The ball traced a perfect arc through the air before swishing through the net with a crisp, satisfying sound.

Outside the gym doors, Ōtsubo, Kimura, and Miyaji stood watching.

Ōtsubo turned away from the sight of Midorima and Takao training and spoke to Kimura and Miyaji:

"If even the first-years are putting in this much effort, we sure as hell can't afford to fall behind."

"Yeah" Kimura agreed with a nod.

Miyaji didn't say a word. Instead, he turned around and walked back into the gym, ready for another round of extra practice. To him, actions spoke louder than words.

Seeing this, Ōtsubo and Kimura chuckled and followed him inside.

They all knew that only through relentless effort could they bring out their best performance in the upcoming game.

Takao, ever observant, quickly noticed them. "Did you guys forget something?"

"Nope. Extra practice" the three replied curtly, grabbing basketballs and diving straight into training.

Midorima, still shooting, finally allowed himself a small smile. Watching his teammates step back onto the court filled him with a rare warmth.

Maybe this team wasn't so bad after all.

....

Meanwhile, over at Kaijō High…

"A showdown between Shiro and Midorima, huh? Man, as much as I like Midorima, he's probably gonna get wrecked" Kise muttered to himself during practice, a grin of anticipation spreading across his face.

His daydream, however, was cut short by a thunderous voice.

"What the hell are you spacing out for?!"

The sheer intensity of the voice snapped Kise back to reality. He turned his head to see Kasamatsu, hands on his hips, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Clearly, he wasn't happy with Kise zoning out during training.

Before Kise could react, Kasamatsu's foot was already on the move—

"Ow! That was brutal! You're so mean!" Kise yelped, clutching his backside dramatically after getting kicked to the ground. His face twisted into an exaggerated expression of pain.

"Serves you right for slacking off!" Kasamatsu barked, his voice echoing through the gym.

Kise shakily got to his feet, still rubbing his sore backside, knowing full well that he had messed up.

"Alright, alright, I was just thinking about the upcoming game between Shutoku and Fukui! Let's go watch it together!" Kise quickly switched gears, flashing a sheepish grin as he massaged Kasamatsu's shoulders in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

"The Shiro vs Midorima matchup, huh? Could be interesting." Kasamatsu stroked his chin, nodding slightly as if considering it.

But then—his expression darkened.

"Stop thinking about that and focus on training!"

"Y-Yes, sir!" Kise immediately straightened up, responding with mock military precision.

...

Over at Tōō Academy…

Aomine sat on the bench in the gym, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead before dripping onto the floor, forming tiny puddles. He grabbed a towel and casually wiped his face, his movements effortless and practiced.

The noise of the gym faded into the background as his mind drifted toward the upcoming game—

Shiro vs. Midorima.

"Perfect. I'll finally get to see where Shiro's at these days" Aomine mused, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

He stood up, draping the towel over his shoulder as he walked toward the court. He knew that only through constant training and effort could he keep his own game sharp.

Stopping beyond the three-point line, Aomine took a deep breath and raised the ball. His eyes sharpened, locking onto the hoop with laser focus.

He jumped effortlessly, a flick of his wrist sending the ball soaring in a graceful arc.

Swish!

The net barely moved as the ball dropped straight through. The clean, crisp sound echoed through the gym.

Aomine grinned in satisfaction.