Three minutes was far too short—especially under tension, excitement, and adrenaline. In the blink of an eye, it was already over.
Midorima Shintaro removed the towel from his head. It was completely soaked, heavy with sweat.
His teammates had already noticed the towel dripping continuously. It was proof—his stamina had been pushed to an extreme level.
The whistle sounded.
Midorima stepped back onto the court with his teammates.
On the other side, Haizaki Shogo of Fukuda Sogo calmly put down his bottle of purified water. He called out briefly to his teammates and walked back onto the court.
Shutoku's possession began.
The ball reached Midorima.
And the moment he received it—
Silver-gray electric eyes were already right in front of him.
Haizaki had arrived.
Midorima froze for a fraction of a second, utterly stunned that Haizaki had re-entered that terrifying state so quickly.
That single hesitation was all it took.
Haizaki struck.
He stole the ball.
And in the same motion, he broke past Midorima and launched it toward the hoop.
BOOM!
A clean finish.
In the fourth quarter, Haizaki's goal was simple:
Finish Shutoku in one breath.
No hesitation. No comeback window.
Because if Midorima were allowed to re-enter his state again and push himself into a reckless duel, the consequences would be far worse.
Shutoku might win—but Fukuda Sogo would be drained before tomorrow's national final.
And once Midorima entered that state again, both players would be forced into extreme output—Midorima shooting endlessly, Haizaki matching him—
A war of attrition that would destroy both teams.
Even injury was possible.
And that was the outcome Haizaki wanted least.
So he struck first.
Before Shutoku could even react.
Before Midorima could rebuild momentum.
He crushed the game's hope at its root.
Now, facing Haizaki's overwhelming pressure, Midorima had no real answer.
He could only rely on brief moments of "man-ball" to protect the ball—but even that time limit was approaching.
Finding an opening, Midorima passed.
"PAH!"
But the ball never reached its target.
Haizaki intercepted it mid-flight.
Midorima's eyes widened.
He didn't even have time to process what had just happened before Haizaki calmly pulled up and shot a normal three-pointer.
The ball went in cleanly.
No effort wasted. No special technique required.
Just pure execution.
Midorima's pupils shrank.
What he had just witnessed wasn't just a steal—it was something far more unsettling.
But there was no time to think.
The next possession came immediately.
And again—
Midorima was forced to face Haizaki.
At the baseline of Shutoku's half, the two once again clashed.
To the rest of the players, it felt like watching two kings fight while everyone else had been reduced to spectators—mere background figures waiting for the outcome.
Haizaki reached out his massive hand.
He seized the ball directly from Midorima.
A pure, overwhelming theft.
And immediately turned toward the basket for a dunk.
At that moment—
Midorima snapped.
I will not lose. Not to anyone. Not ever.
His green eyes flared as he leapt to contest the single-handed dunk.
But—
It was already too late.
BOOM!
Haizaki slammed the ball through the rim with ease.
Midorima's outstretched hand cut through empty air.
Shutoku fell behind by 25 points.
But something else happened.
The very thing Haizaki wanted to avoid.
Midorima entered his zone again.
His presence shifted instantly.
He received Takao Kazunari's inbound pass—and the moment Haizaki jumped to contest—
Midorima released the ball.
"SWISH!"
A perfect three-pointer.
Fast. Effortless. Precise.
Even Haizaki, mid-air, could only watch the arc of the shot sail perfectly into the net.
He landed and turned back.
And then he saw it.
Midorima already standing there again.
Waiting.
Haizaki smirked slightly.
It was obvious what Midorima intended.
He wanted to stop Haizaki completely—to erase Fukuda Sogo's chance of advancing.
But…
Could he actually do it?
Haizaki's eyes flashed with electric intensity.
In an instant, he broke through Midorima's defense like a runaway beast.
So this is what "Man-and-ball unity" really feels like…
Midorima experienced it firsthand.
Haizaki's speed and timing were absurd.
He slipped through an even enhanced reaction and entered position with terrifying ease.
Midorima turned to chase—
Too late.
Haizaki had already shot another three.
SWISH.
No wasted motion. No fatigue-heavy technique.
Just pure scoring efficiency.
And then—
Haizaki immediately closed in on Midorima again, pressuring him tightly.
Midorima could no longer shoot freely.
So he chose confrontation.
He tried to break through using his own "man-ball" state.
But the moment he initiated it—
Haizaki was already there.
Already positioned.
Already waiting.
He reached out.
And stole the ball again.
Midorima froze for a split second.
That was all Haizaki needed.
He was gone.
Midorima reacted instantly and chased to block the follow-up—
But Haizaki already knew.
He spun the ball around his hand in a flashy motion and finished with a creative layup.
BOOM!
The ball dropped into the net.
Midorima stared at it for a long moment.
Then he finally spoke as he turned away to retrieve the ball.
"You… how are you doing this? You monster."
Yes.
What he had just witnessed was beyond abnormal.
Haizaki wasn't just reacting anymore.
He was predicting.
Using familiarity with "man-ball," he was reading Midorima's movements before they even happened—positioning himself in advance, intercepting at the exact moment of hesitation.
It was terrifying.
Almost beyond the definition of "monster."
And Midorima's words carried admiration…
But beneath it, there was undeniable shock.
Because right now—
Who could possibly stop Haizaki Shogo?