A twelve-point gap.
At this rate, if they kept chasing point by point, there simply wouldn't be enough time for Shutoku to catch up.
But despite the bleak numbers, Akashi Asuka still wore an expression of calm optimism.
The reason was simple, because Aomine Daiki's time was almost up.
Every player who entered the [Zone] had a limit. After all, the [Zone] was a state of complete mental focus, a peak of concentration no one could sustain forever.
That meant the one who entered first, Aomine Daiki, would also be the first to fall out of it.
Even if Aomine exited the [Zone], given the current score, there was still no guarantee that Shutoku could turn the tables.
The true danger for Tōō Academy lay elsewhere, in stamina.
Although both teams were playing their second match of the day, the intensity of their earlier games was vastly different.
Tōō had faced Seirin, whose starters had all unleashed everything they had. Even with Aomine's relentless firepower, that match had ended in a draw.
In contrast, Shutoku's previous opponent, Kirisaki Daiichi, had already lost most of their main players. Hanamiya Makoto, their only remaining threat, hadn't even appeared in the game.
One side fought a bloody war, while the other had played a restful scrimmage.
So it was clear from the start, Shutoku and Tōō began this match with completely different levels of stamina.
PAK!
Without warning, Aomine's rule-breaking jump shot was suddenly blocked, by none other than Midorima Shintaro!
Midorima didn't hesitate. He landed, gathered himself, and immediately leapt again for a shot.
Aomine tried to react, but the moment he moved, a sharp pain lanced through his ankle, spreading a wave of weakness through his leg.
His movement froze.
SWISH!
The ball arced across the entire court like a falling comet and pierced through Tōō's net.
113–122.
"What—?"
"Aomine... he actually..."
This was something no one from Tōō had seen coming.
Both Aomine and Midorima were known for their aggressive offense, and when they went all out, defense on either side became little more than paper.
If Midorima had beaten Aomine through offense, no one would've been shocked.
But on defense...?
BEEP!
Tōō's coach, Katsunori Harasawai, immediately called for a timeout.
When they returned to the bench, Satsuki Momoi and Shoichi Imayoshi were both stunned by Aomine's condition.
He looked as if he had been fished out of a pool, his jersey drenched, sweat dripping, his breathing heavy and ragged.
But the worst part wasn't that.
Aomine's legs were trembling uncontrollably.
Behind his glasses, Imayoshi's eyes widened, his usual smirk fading completely, replaced by a look of disbelief.
"No way... Aomine's stamina's gone? No... it's been gone for a while!"
Of course, Tōō had accounted for stamina before the match even started.
According to their plan, Aomine was supposed to rest for half a quarter in the second period, to save his energy for the later half.
But plans never keep up with reality.
This game against Shutoku had turned out far more intense than anyone expected.
If Aomine had even taken a minute to rest, Shutoku could have widened the score in an instant.
So Tōō had been forced to leave Aomine on the court,
All the way until the fourth quarter.
And once Aomine entered the Zone, his performance was so overwhelming that even his teammates had forgotten one simple fact, he was still human.
Now, as his time in the Zone ended, the physical backlash from pushing himself so far hit him all at once.
The Tōō bench fell silent.
Everyone waited for Coach Katsunori's decision. He furrowed his brow deeply, then finally let out a long breath.
"Aomine... you're sitting out."
The words hit like a thunderclap.
Even Aomine froze, staring wide-eyed. The rest of Tōō's players looked up in shock.
Then, predictably, Aomine exploded first.
"What are you talking about!? I can still play, "
"This isn't about whether you can play," the coach cut him off sharply. "I know you could finish the game if you wanted. But do you understand what that would cost you?"
Sometimes, too much talent could be a curse.
For a first-year high schooler whose body was still developing, the kind of raw power the Generation of Miracles possessed put immense strain on their bodies.
Especially during their first semester.
Even a brief burst of full effort could leave their joints aching and unstable.
By the second semester, as their bodies matured, things improved, but only slightly.
Under normal conditions, a player like Aomine could last a full game.
But today, he had played two full matches in one day, both at full power, and had entered the Zone in each one.
The physical toll was unimaginable.
One wrong move, and the damage could become irreversible.
...
"Hey, hey... Is Tōō okay?" Kasuga Ryuhei asked from the stands, noticing the commotion. "It looks like Aomine's arguing with his coach."
"Asuka-senpai, we should go."
Akashi Asuka glanced at the Tōō bench, eyes narrowing slightly before he stood up.
"Huh? Now? But the game's not over yet," Kasuga said, puzzled.
"No," Asuka replied quietly, shaking his head. "It's already over."
From the moment Tōō called that timeout, the match's outcome was no longer in the players' hands, it was in the coach's.
Unless Katsunori was willing to risk Aomine's future to win the game now, the result was already decided.
Any coach who truly cared for his players would make the same choice,
Give up this one match, and protect the limitless potential of tomorrow.