NBA Skills: Dominating Kuroko no Basket

Shutoku Bench

Midorima was gasping for air, his chest rising and falling violently like a bellows. Sweat dripped from his forehead, landing on the polished wooden court with a faint plop.

His body was nearing its limit after an intense back-and-forth battle. Every muscle trembled, and every breath felt like it was tearing his lungs apart. A wave of exhaustion, unlike anything he had ever felt, washed over him.

He knew that unleashing the animal instinct came with a massive toll on his stamina. But he also knew—it was the only way to keep up with Aomine.

Grabbing a towel, he wiped his face forcefully, trying to keep his mind sharp.

"There's no helping it. Aomine is just too strong… But as long as I stay in animal instinct, he can't stop me either."

Midorima's gaze instinctively shifted toward the Too Academy bench.

Aomine was sitting there, head down, eerily quiet, as if lost in thought. This unusual stillness sent a wave of unease through Midorima.

Frowning, he thought to himself, "What the hell is he thinking? Could he be hiding something else up his sleeve?"

Shaking his head, he forced the thought away. Overthinking wouldn't help.

His teammates, however, could clearly see how drained he was. They knew Midorima was the backbone of their team—their only hope of keeping up with Too Academy.

But they also knew they couldn't offer much help on the court. The only way to counter Aomine's relentless drives was through Midorima's deadly three-point shooting.

Nakatani walked over, his face serious. "Midorima, are you holding up?"

Midorima lifted his head, his sharp green eyes burning with determination. "I'll last through the fourth quarter. Don't worry." But deep down, he wasn't so sure—because he knew Aomine wasn't the type to just sit back and take it.

Nakatani nodded, his gaze sweeping across the team before addressing them firmly:

"Midorima will keep closing the gap with his threes. Your job is to make sure Too Academy doesn't interfere with his shots. As long as he gets open looks, victory will be ours! Understood?!"

"Yes, sir!"

The Shutoku players responded in unison, their eyes blazing with determination. They weren't here to lose—they wanted to win, to prove themselves on the biggest stage.

From the sidelines, Nijimura observed the scene with sharp insight. "Too Academy is in real trouble now. Midorima's energy has completely ignited Shutoku's fighting spirit. Even if Aomine can match him shot for shot, Midorima's threes will always be worth one more point than his twos."

Kawamura and Moyun nodded in agreement, their eyes glued to the court as they silently analyzed the game.

They knew Aomine was an unmatched individual talent, but under Midorima's three-point barrage, Too Academy was in a precarious situation.

However, Shiro, watching quietly from the side, just smiled knowingly without commenting.

Momoi, sensing something, turned to him. "Shiro, do you see things differently?"

Everyone immediately turned to him, eager to hear his thoughts.

"Haha, nah, I don't have much to say." Shiro chuckled, keeping his cards close.

"But…" Momoi murmured, her voice trailing off in thought. "The quieter Aomine gets, the stronger he becomes."

At those words, Shiro and Nijimura both nodded. They had all seen it before—when Aomine faced a worthy opponent, he didn't get frustrated. He got calm.

And that was when he became truly terrifying.

Nijimura's eyes widened slightly as a thought crossed his mind. He glanced at Shiro, who simply smiled and nodded back, confirming his suspicion.

"If that's the case… this game might turn into a massacre" Nijimura muttered, a trace of disbelief in his voice.

Too Academy Bench

On the other side of the court, Too Academy's players could feel the suffocating pressure from Shutoku. The weight of the moment pressed down on them, making it hard to breathe.

Yet amidst the tension, Aomine sat motionless on the bench, a towel draped over his head. His posture was relaxed, but something about him felt… different.

Every breath he took was slow and deep, his shoulders rising and falling in an unshakable rhythm.

In that moment, Aomine felt completely disconnected from the noise around him. The deafening cheers, the tense murmurs—it was all distant, like background static.

There was only him… and basketball.

Too Academy's coach Harasawa stood near the bench, his eyes fixed on Aomine. He knew—this was the key moment.

"Alright, listen up" Harasawa finally spoke, his voice steady. "We hold the line in the fourth quarter. Shutoku's ace is running on fumes. Lock down their other players, and let Aomine handle Midorima. As long as he stays on him, we win."

The Too players nodded, a hint of reassurance in their expressions.

Then, all eyes turned to Aomine.

"Yo, Aomine, you still got gas left for the fourth?" Harasawa asked.

Silence.

Aomine didn't respond.

He was too calm.

Inside his mind, everything was crystal clear. It was as if he was sinking into deep water, where nothing else mattered—except for one thing.

Basketball.

And then—

A smirk curled at the corner of his lips.

A faint blue spark flickered in his eyes.

At that moment, his aura shifted. Aomine wasn't just ready — he was in the Zone.