The whistle blew, and the game resumed.
To contain Midorima Shintaro, Haizaki Shogo continued the man-to-man defense as planned by coach Ichiro Kudo, sticking to Midorima like a shadow.
Looking at Midorima's intensely serious expression, Haizaki casually asked,
"Why don't you use your right hand to shoot anymore?"
"Just a habit. I like my left hand better."
What a narcissistic and stubborn answer. Still, Haizaki was satisfied with it. His expression turned serious again as he fully committed to defending Midorima.
He still vividly remembered their middle school quarterfinal match. Haizaki had been blocked by Midorima and Murasakibara together during a dunk attempt.
Back then, he had already sensed that Midorima possessed far more physical ability than he ever revealed. So now, Haizaki was extremely cautious—very cautious.
At this moment, Shutoku's "human artillery" Midorima Shintaro had been temporarily sealed off by Haizaki's defense. Their best scoring option now was inside—the captain, Otsubo Taisuke.
A nearly two-meter-tall giant whose rebounding and defense could not be ignored.
But Fukuda Sogo's interior was no weaker. Coach Ichiro Kudo's 3-1-1 formation was not just for show.
The "Suzuran Karasu," their rebounding monster, and Okawa Sawano were both strong presences in the paint. Haizaki trusted them. That was why he could afford to focus entirely on Midorima.
Shutoku inbounded the ball. Takao Kazunari dribbled into Fukuda Sogo's half-court, his hawk-like vision scanning everything. In one motion, he passed the ball to No. 8, Miyaji Kiyoshi. Miyaji drove past a late rotation from Kimura Tosho and finished with an easy floater inside.
SWISH!
Shutoku retreated on defense. Sawano passed the ball to Ishida Hideki, who carried it across half-court and delivered it to Haizaki.
Haizaki dribbled, watching Midorima lower his center of gravity and extend his arms.
He chuckled softly, stepped back, and shot.
Midorima immediately assumed it was a rebound attempt. But he was wrong.
It wasn't a shot—it was a pass.
Suzuran Karasu leapt instantly, and before Otsubo could react, slammed the ball into the hoop with a powerful dunk.
BOOM!
The sound was heavy—so heavy it clearly carried emotion. Karasu was releasing his strength and presence with that explosive finish.
As players retreated, Haizaki remained behind, his eyes locked on Midorima.
Without Midorima leading the offense, Shutoku's attack weakened significantly. And weak offense meant vulnerability.
Takao brought the ball up again and tried to pass inside—but a huge hand intercepted it mid-air.
It was Sawano, Shutoku's defensive anchor, using his "Iron Chain Defense" to steal the ball. He grinned and launched a long pass downcourt.
Three figures reacted first and sprinted ahead: Kimura Tosho, Haizaki, and Midorima.
Kimura received the ball first—but immediately found Midorima in front of him. Seeing Haizaki nearby, he quickly passed it off.
Haizaki caught it, jumped high, and—despite Midorima's outstretched hand—forcefully dunked the ball through the rim.
Fukuda Sogo had taken the lead by two points.
Landing, Haizaki and Midorima exchanged glances.
"Shintaro, it's a two-on-one. Don't look at me like that."
"Shogo… you really are strong."
Possession returned to Shutoku. Takao grew more cautious and instead of passing to his usual targets, lobbed the ball toward the rim.
Otsubo Taisuke soared into the air and completed an alley-oop dunk.
Shutoku responded immediately.
Fukuda Sogo's Ishida dribbled up and, seeing the defense spread thin, hesitated before pulling up for a three-pointer outside the arc.
The ball dropped cleanly through the net. Fukuda Sogo extended their lead by three.
"Nice shot, Ishida-senpai!"
"Awesome, senpai!"
"Great shot!"
The bench erupted in cheers. The single third-year on the court became the center of celebration.
That three-pointer also lifted morale on Fukuda Sogo's bench. If the game continued like this, they would likely finish the first quarter with at least a one-point lead.
Possession changed again. Takao brought the ball up near midcourt—close to Haizaki.
Haizaki's eyes sharpened. Now's the chance.
Within Takao's hawk-eye vision, Haizaki's figure suddenly vanished. The next instant—
His hands were empty.
"Takao!" Midorima shouted too late.
Haizaki had already stolen the ball and was sprinting toward the Shutoku basket, Midorima chasing closely behind.
Inside the free-throw line, Haizaki jumped. His right hand rose, preparing for a dunk. Midorima leapt after him to contest.
But Haizaki's lips curled into a grin.
"Shintaro… let's widen the gap a little more."
In mid-air, he shifted the ball from his right hand to his left and executed a smooth hook shot instead of a dunk, releasing it toward the rim.
The whistle blew. The basket counted. Shutoku's No. 6, Midorima Shintaro, was called for a defensive foul. One free throw awarded.
SWISH!
The free throw went in effortlessly. Clean, decisive—without hesitation.
In the stands, Aomine Daiki let out a low scoff.
That move—he had taught Haizaki during their training sessions.
Watching Haizaki now use his own technique to torment Midorima filled Aomine with a strange satisfaction.
It felt as if he himself had scored on the court.
This sensation was hard to describe. Watching someone else use your technique to break someone down… it was strangely satisfying.
And dangerously addictive.
That single possession widened the gap even further.
17–23. Fukuda Sogo was leading.
And there was still one minute left in the first quarter.
The audience reacted with shock, though only Aomine, Satsuki Momoi, and Fukuda Sogo's bench remained calm.