Sunday. Haizaki Shogo declined Shimizu Rena's invitation to practice fencing and stepped out of the house, basketball slung over his shoulder, under the familiar hum of his mother's nagging.
The night before, he had already called Satsuki Momoi and Aomine Daiki to arrange a basketball session together.
At the court, Shogo spotted Momoi in her crisp white outfit and Aomine in black. He walked over to join them.
"Weren't you waiting for me? How come you two got here first?"
"Shogo-kun, it was Aomine who wanted to warm up early, so… well, we came ahead of time."
Shogo looked at Momoi in white. She kept getting prettier, her figure more striking, and her personality kinder.
Sigh… Aomine, that mute goose, what a waste of talent!
"Shogo, stop talking and warm up already. I can't wait."
"Hehe, alright, I'll run a couple laps first."
Shogo handed his removed jacket to Momoi to hold, ran around the court a few times, then approached Aomine.
Taking the basketball from Daiki, Shogo dribbled and asked him a question.
"Aomine, if someone told you not to score a single point the whole game, could you do it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Literally what I just said."
"Maybe… I guess. As long as we win, it doesn't matter what I do on the court."
Shogo fell silent. A player as naturally gifted as Aomine had probably never experienced suppressing his own desire to score for an entire game.
"True. Only victory matters. Only winning can justify everything else."
With that, Shogo aggressively pushed into the paint and faced off with Aomine.
Under the boards, the sound of baskets went back and forth—wave after wave, neither giving ground.
"Shogo, I admire you. Taking away someone else's skill… I've never been able to do that."
"Is that a compliment?"
"Not?"
"Hehe. I actually admire you more. Your style is unique. Aren't you going to show me?"
"You'll see when we make it to the national finals!"
Looking at Aomine, Shogo felt something he hadn't expected—this person radiated charisma far beyond any anime character.
That terrifying natural talent… even now, Shogo shivered at the thought. Even with his own devouring ability, he could still feel Aomine's immense pressure.
Freedom in his style, unpredictable shots, wild instincts, a zone of free will… so many things Shogo envied.
Techniques developed later by Tetsuya Kuroko could be analyzed in one glance by Aomine. Couldn't he imitate them if he wanted?
This guy hid so much in his independent style—that was part of why Shogo admired him.
Someone who lives entirely for their own basketball, unjealous of others, fully focused on developing their own unique skills.
Unpredictable shooting could disguise many things while revealing others. The difficulty covered countless techniques: accuracy, flexibility, stance variations… Shogo even guessed Aomine could hit three-pointers from anywhere.
But it wasn't his style, so he didn't do it. I didn't want to.
Everyone called him the ace of the Generation of Miracles, and that said a lot.
Even the other Generation of Miracles members likely suspected some things but never said so. Even Shogo, once part of that prideful era, had no complaints about Aomine being the ace.
When it came to scoring, did Midorima Shintaro, who shoots threes at will, really surpass Aomine?
Even Akashi couldn't be sure he could beat Aomine. That shows how impenetrable Aomine's talent was.
This was the Aomine Daiki before him—the ace of the Generation of Miracles, Japan's top basketball talent.
"Hey, hey, hey! You're distracted, Shogo."
"Ha… Oh, just thinking about some things. I guess I was still a little naïve."
"Naïve?"
"Yeah, a little naïve!"
"Shogo, I'm looking forward to you more and more. The old you wouldn't admit being naïve."
"Really? I've grown a bit. You've grown too, haven't you?"
"Hahaha! Enough talk. Come on, keep going!"
That afternoon, Shogo and Aomine both had a blast. Training with someone of the same caliber felt heavenly—pure bliss in every moment.
After parting with Momoi and Aomine, Shogo returned home alone.
"Aomine, Shogo-kun seems different today… a little lonely, like the old you."
"Really? I didn't notice. Maybe just an illusion."
"Aomine, you'll go back to training at school, right?"
"No. Not interested."
"Aomine…"
"Let's go!"
"Okay!"
Momoi lost again, unable to argue with her childhood friend Aomine, so she followed obediently, step by step, back home.
And Shogo?
Lately, he had felt suppressed.
First, he couldn't find reliable teammates—frustration built, and blocking Teiko Junior High's three-peat felt hopeless.
Second, his weaker teammates disappointed him. After training so hard together, they couldn't resist temptation. Though it wasn't his place to scold, he still cared deeply about team unity, discipline, spirit, and culture.
Who wouldn't want an undefeated team? Everyone thriving together?
This suffocating feeling wasn't sustainable. Shogo had to play with Aomine to relieve some pressure.
Feeling the pressure Aomine gave him, Shogo could recognize his own weaknesses.
Like when Kise Ryouta challenged him at Teiko, and he thought: "I'm still far from good enough."
Everything came down to one truth: he wasn't strong enough yet.
If he were strong, he could dominate alone without worrying about others.
This wasn't arrogance or lack of teamwork—it was simply a limitation of ability.
Weaklings huddle for warmth; the strong can steal freely. When they meet someone stronger, even the strong huddle together.
Basketball was like this. Life was like this. Simple as that.
Realizing all this, Shogo collapsed onto his bed, ready to sleep. Tomorrow was another day of training.
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