"Aomine-kun, come back and train."
It was a rainy day.
Aomine, acting like a lost little prince again, wandered off on his own—conflicted by his opponent's words.
He didn't go to practice. Instead, he stood alone under the overpass in the grass, letting the rain drench him as he stared blankly at the river water flowing by.
Kuroko had to search for quite a while before he found him.
"Why, though?"
Aomine stood up, bracing himself on the wet ground. "What's the point of training anymore?"
"Every match we play, we win effortlessly."
"Didn't you see it, Tetsu? As long as we take things seriously, our opponents just collapse."
"You must've noticed—Tendou's been passing the ball to me constantly. He's not even trying anymore."
Aomine turned his back again, watching the river flow.
"He probably figured it out long ago. And those newspapers… calling it 'reserving strength for Nationals'... Hah.
That guy's just bored. Playing against these people means nothing to him."
Kuroko thought about it.
To his surprise… Aomine was right.
Tendou had no desire to dominate this year—completely unlike last year.
Except for the first game (where he dropped the highest score), he'd been feeding the ball to Aomine ever since.
But in truth, it was a misunderstanding.
Tendou wasn't holding back because he was bored.
He was simply observing Aomine—watching, planning, preparing for the day he'd have to take him down.
He knew the audience was already numb to his stats—he had put up too many monster games last year.
This year, he needed new, shocking performances to keep his popularity rising.
Kuroko didn't know that.
And so, his face dimmed with guilt.
"I understand how you feel, but—"
"Understand?" Aomine let out a bitter laugh. "What the hell do you understand?"
"You can't do anything on your own, Tetsu. What would you understand?"
Kuroko didn't back down.
"Even I… get jealous of Tendou and the others sometimes.
But sitting around sulking about what I can't do doesn't change anything."
"Then who exactly are you planning to pass to? Tendou? Me?"
"Let's be honest—we don't need your passes to win anymore."
BOOM—!
Thunder roared overhead.
It echoed like a judgment hammer pounding down on Kuroko's chest.
...
Later that night.
Practice had ended.
Tendou stayed behind to train on his own, dribbling near the café court.
Sure, he could improve his stats through the gacha system—but he didn't want to rely on that for everything.
After all, even the luckiest gacha wins were just a fluke.
Most people live life as a "non-lucky," not a born "SS-tier" puller.
Tendou knew that truth all too well from his past life.
Damn those penguin games. Damn Mihoyo...
Before long, Riko came over, holding a bento.
"You've been waiting a while, haven't you? Hungry?"
"A little."
He set the ball aside, and the two began their dinner right there on the court.
Naturally, talk drifted to the upcoming Nationals.
Riko had been closely following every one of Tendou's games—especially noticing Aomine's explosive form recently.
And she was worried.
She knew what Tendou's goal was: to become the strongest, to be the king of popularity.
But right now, Aomine was stealing the spotlight—even overshadowing Tendou's brilliance.
Rumors were already flying around school:
"Maybe Aomine is the real ace of Teikō."
His game was flashy, dominant—the very picture of streetball flair.
Anyone who saw Aomine play fell for his charisma.
Even Riko—who saw Tendou every day—couldn't help but admit:
"He plays like a beast…"
And so, she made a decision.
"Let's put on a show, Kageyoshi."
"Huh?"
"Let's act. I can be your supporting role—a gold-medal wingwoman!"
"You mean prop," Tendou said flatly. "You're just a flower vase at best."
She pouted.
"You're so mean. I'm your girlfriend, you know—can't you treat me a little differently than others?"
"Don't worry so much. Aomine still has a long way to go if he wants to beat me."
Tendou put down the bento, closed his eyes slowly.
And the next moment—
His consciousness entered another space.
The domain of ZONE.
...
In that otherworldly realm, Tendou walked forward silently.
The moment he arrived, the great door of ZONE creaked open—without resistance.
As he opened his eyes again, a glowing silver world unfolded before him.
...
Riko, watching from outside, felt chills up her spine.
"What… what is this?"
No reason, no logic—she just knew: Tendou had become incredibly powerful.
The already overwhelming aura around him had grown so intense, it made it hard to even breathe.
"Zone," Tendou said calmly.
He began explaining what it was, and just how difficult it was to enter.
"But… didn't you just close your eyes and go right in?"
"Yeah… kind of surprised me too."
...
Tendou first became aware of ZONE when his overall stats broke the 90-point threshold.
But he hadn't pursued it. He knew—Zone is a tsundere.
The more you crave it, the more it resists you.
The gateway to Zone requires three brutal conditions:
1 - A burning love for basketball.
2 - Unquestionable talent.
3 - A very specific personal "trigger."
And that third one is the most difficult of all.
...
Aomine's trigger was a worthy opponent.
Easy to find… if you're Aomine and most people can't beat you.
But even for him, only fellow Generation of Miracles members could trigger it.
Midorima's trigger was internal clarity.
He had to admit to himself that he truly loved basketball.
That was hard—he was always scatterbrained and lazy.
Imagine one day he wakes up, and instead of snoozing the alarm, he gets up with passion.
Unthinkable.
Akashi's trigger?
Even more brutal: he had to give up all reliance on teammates and fight alone.
But Akashi valued his teammates dearly.
If not for his split personality, he never would've met that condition.
...
"Then what about you, Kageyoshi? What was your trigger?"
Tendou smiled faintly.
"My trigger, huh…?"