After getting outplayed by his younger teammate, Imayoshi Shōichi was naturally looking to reclaim some dignity.
He pushed forward aggressively—but Hanamiya Makoto wasn't about to show his old captain any courtesy. He stepped right in and threw an elbow.
His aim was simple: provoke the "filthy-minded four-eyes." The more impatient Imayoshi got, the easier Hanamiya's job became.
Only after pulling this move did he whip the ball over to Tendou.
Tendou caught it and immediately took off.
Right beside him, Aomine matched his speed step for step.
The two burst into the three-point arc simultaneously.
Then the animation "camera" seemed to slow down to a crawl, giving both players a close-up.
Tap!
Tendou's foot landed softly just inside the arc.
Then—time resumed at full speed.
Tendou slammed the ball once and instantly stepped back behind the three-point line.
That dramatic shift in tempo made his lightning-fast stepback all the more striking—faster and deadlier than Hyūga Junpei's signature no-space release.
Tendou had pulled off a stepback three at top speed during a drive.
Biu!
Once again—it was Curry's one-motion shot. From catching the ball to releasing it, it took less than 0.3 seconds.
The ball rocketed from his hands like a laser cannon, a snap slicing through the air toward the basket.
Aomine twisted his feet, forced his weight around, and lunged with all he had to block—but still couldn't touch the ball.
Swish!
The ball dropped clean into the net.
WHOA—!!
The Kirisaki Daiichi fan section erupted in thunderous cheers.
Just seconds into the second quarter, Kirisaki had widened the gap again.
"This is bad…" Imayoshi's gaze shifted to Momoi.
She shook her head slightly and muttered, "Hanamiya's already figured out our playbook."
She glanced down at her scouting predictions. Based on her calculations, Hanamiya had likely seen through at least 80% of Tōō's tactical options.
She could see it—but it was hard to convey to her team.
Not every player had a brain like hers… or Hanamiya's.
"This puts Tōō on the defensive again."
"God really has no eyes. Of all people, Hanamiya had to be the one they're facing now?"
From Seirin's bench came cries of frustration.
They knew what it was like to suffer under Momoi's data-driven analysis. She had crushed them with her scouting before.
"Because Hanamiya's IQ is insane," one of them murmured.
"I know his IQ is high, but now's not the time to praise him! Did you forget how you got injured? Remember your side, moron!"
Hyūga smacked Kiyoshi Teppei hard across the head.
"Yeah, yeah… But still, Hanamiya's really strong."
Kiyoshi scratched his head awkwardly—but his tone didn't hide the admiration.
Before the Generation of Miracles came onto the scene, Hanamiya was widely considered one of the top two players in the nation.
And the key to that title? His terrifyingly complex mind.
"Reading the opponent's intent and adapting instantly..."
"No matter how you look at it, this game is elite-level basketball."
No one replied.
Because Kiyoshi was right—the level of play on this court far exceeded Seirin's.
Top-tier individual skill. Top-tier strategic execution.
Everything about this match felt high-level.
Now the gap had grown to 5 points.
Imayoshi stood at the sideline, deep in thought.
On the court, the other Tōō players kept glancing at their opponents—tense and wary.
None of them had expected this game to be so brutal.
They knew Aomine was fighting. But now even their captain, Imayoshi, was getting locked down—and that made Tōō's entire offense grind to a halt.
Hanamiya's steal had been more than just a turnover—it had shaken Tōō's entire flow.
He'd gotten into Imayoshi's head.
...
"So annoying. You half-assed extras are just getting in my way."
Aomine stepped out beyond the arc and waved Imayoshi over to give him the ball.
He'd had enough of the interference.
"Basketball's something you understand by playing, not overthinking."
He crouched low, hands resting on the ball between his legs.
It wasn't a textbook triple-threat stance, but there were no openings in his posture.
Susa Yoshinori moved up, trying to set a screen.
Aomine snapped, "Get lost. Your light's already faded."
And with those words, something shifted around him.
"What the…?"
Kagami, who possessed the latent talent of Wild Instinct, sensed it first.
A primal energy. Raw and overwhelming.
It was like some beast had burst forth from Aomine's body.
"Wild Instinct," Kuroko answered, his expression solemn.
"Wild… what? What's Wild Instinct?"
"A rare, innate gift that only a handful of players possess."
Even Kuroko looked tense as he explained.
"Back at Teikō, even among the Generation of Miracles, Aomine was the only one who had it."
"Not even Tendou?"
"No."
The team's expressions shifted.
Back on the court, Aomine had already moved.
He was faster—stronger.
His movements, already impossibly complex, reached a new level. Even human eyes could barely follow.
Tendou's Six Eyes spun furiously, searching for truth in the chaos of Aomine's footwork.
Then—he reached out again.
SLAP!
He had done it again—within the noise and deception of Aomine's insane moves, Tendou had pinpointed the real attack.
He batted the ball loose.
But Aomine's instincts kicked in immediately.
The moment the ball slipped away, his hand snapped backward and seized it mid-air.
Almost simultaneously, he swung it behind his back, changed direction, and blew past Tendou.
All of it happened in an instant.
By the time the crowd realized what was going on, Aomine had already broken free and crossed the arc.
"He got past him!"
"Aomine beat him!!"
The Tōō bench roared. Even Imayoshi clenched his fists.
From the start of the game, Tōō had been getting pushed back.
And the heart of it all was the Tendou-Aomine clash—Tendou had dominated it so far.
But not now.
If Aomine could flip the momentum, the whole game would shift.
Or so they hoped.
...
But Momoi wasn't as optimistic.
"That's still not enough," she said.
"What do you mean? Are you saying Tendou has the same kind of gift as Aomine?"
"No. Little Ten doesn't have Wild Instinct…"
"…But he has something else."
On the court, Aomine had already reached the paint.
He ignored Seto Kentarō's help defense and soared into the air, cocking the ball back for a devastating slam.
But in the next instant—a monstrous figure rose to meet him.
Dark. Towering. Blocking the space between Aomine and the rim.
It was Tendou.
His arm came crashing down, slapping the ball mid-air and denying the dunk.
"What the hell is that?!" Kagami flinched—he could feel something.
Like he'd just seen a beast rise from the shadows.
"A monster."
"Huh?"
"What Kagami saw… was Tendou's monster," Kuroko said quietly.