Shiro caught the ball just beyond the three-point line, took a deep breath, and executed a lightning-quick hesitation move.
His motion was smooth and instinctive, the result of countless hours of practice.
Liu stuck close, his footwork fast and powerful, but compared to Shiro's agility, he seemed sluggish.
Then came Shiro's double step-back—so abrupt that Liu was completely caught off guard.
All he could do was watch as Shiro elevated, flicked his wrist, and sent the ball soaring toward the hoop in a perfect arc.
But just then, out of nowhere, Murasakibara, who had been down in the paint a moment ago, materialized like a ghost, moving at an impossible speed.
"What?!" Gasps erupted from the crowd.
A few plays earlier, Murasakibara had struggled to close the gap in time, but this time, he was already in Shiro's airspace, towering over him. It was clear now—he had been holding back.
Murasakibara's fingertip grazed the ball. In that instant, time seemed to freeze. All eyes were locked onto the ball, its trajectory about to change.
Smack! The sharp sound of contact rang out, followed by the crisp swish of the net.
But the ball didn't go in—it was sent out of bounds.
A stunned silence swept through the arena before waves of exclamations filled the air.
Takao cursed under his breath, turning to Midorima with disbelief in his voice. "Your teammate is ridiculous!"
Midorima calmly adjusted his glasses, his voice steady and full of conviction. "Mmm. His physical talent is off the charts. You could say he was born for basketball."
He paused, then added, "But he's also the laziest among the Generation of Miracles. If he actually pushed himself, his ceiling would be even higher."
On the other side of the stands, Nebuya swallowed hard, his expression shaken. "Akashi… are you sure Fukui High can handle this?"
His voice carried an uncertainty that hadn't been there before, as if he was questioning his own confidence.
A sharp gleam flashed through Akashi's eyes—Murasakibara's growth had caught even him by surprise.
"Shiro… even you aren't my match."
Murasakibara's words echoed through the court, filled with unshakable confidence.
As both players landed, he was the first to throw down the gauntlet.
Shiro, as always, remained unfazed, a faint smile tugging at his lips as if Murasakibara's challenge was nothing but an afterthought.
"Oh? Let's find out, then" he replied casually, catching the inbound pass from Kawamura.
With a flick of his fingers, the ball arced through the air and landed perfectly in his hands.
Once again, Liu was in front of him, guarding at the three-point line.
His stance was locked in, eyes focused, body leaning slightly forward, arms spread wide in anticipation.
Shiro wasted no time — crossover.
In an instant, Liu was left behind.
His movements were fluid and deceptive, like a fox slipping past an unsuspecting hunter.
He charged straight into the paint, slicing through the defense with dizzying speed.
Murasakibara locked onto him with a predator's gaze, making it clear—he wasn't letting this one slide.
His eyes burned with intensity, his body coiled, ready to explode.
But Shiro didn't flinch. As he entered the paint, he gathered the ball and stepped in with his left foot first.
Murasakibara didn't hesitate—he went up for the block.
His massive frame soared, arm fully extended, fingertips nearly brushing the ball.
But just as the block seemed inevitable, Shiro countered with Eurostep, planting his right foot wide to the right and gaining just enough separation.
His sudden movement was so sharp, so quick, that it caught everyone off guard.
Murasakibara, however, wasn't giving up that easily. He twisted mid-air, using his absurd flexibility to launch into a second jump, instantly closing in over Shiro's head.
His body bent and adjusted in midair, an incredible display of athleticism and control.
Shiro's lips curved into a slight smirk as he adjusted mid-air, pulling off a smooth one-handed switch-up.
The ball traced a perfect arc, his movement effortless and graceful, like a dancer suspended in flight.
Whoosh!
Murasakibara's reaction speed was just as monstrous. Relying on his freakish athleticism, he launched himself into an unprecedented third jump.
He soared upward, attempting to swat Shiro's shot straight out of the air!
The crowd gasped, many rising from their seats in shock. Three consecutive jumps—something almost unheard of in a basketball game.
Most elite players could barely manage a second jump, but Murasakibara, the undisputed top high school center in Japan, was far beyond the norm.
Even Shiro was momentarily taken aback—he hadn't expected Murasakibara to keep up with his tempo.
Now, he had no choice but to take this seriously. Against an opponent like Murasakibara, even the slightest lapse in focus could mean the difference between victory and defeat.
But Shiro had something special—an insane hang time reminiscent of Jordan himself.
His body seemed to float effortlessly in the air, as if gravity held no power over him.
Slowly, Murasakibara began descending, his face frozen in disbelief as he watched Shiro still rising.
"Why is he still going up?!" The same thought echoed in everyone's minds—it was simply unreal.
Shiro seemed to hang in the air forever, his body only beginning to descend after reaching an impossible peak.
Then, with a subtle flick of his wrist, he kissed the ball off the glass and into the hoop.
Swish!
Nothing but net.
A wave of stunned silence swept through the gym before erupting into thunderous gasps.
Score: 10-5.
"BEEP! Time-out, Yōsen!"
As the ball fell through the net, Araki immediately called for a timeout.
She cast a long, hard look at Shiro before turning away, her mind unable to settle.
"Terrifying. No wonder he was the number one middle schooler."
Takao let out a bitter chuckle. The sheer dominance of the Generation of Miracles was almost suffocating. Was it a blessing or a curse to be playing in their era?
Even Midorima, usually composed, couldn't hide his shock. Murasakibara's triple jump alone had been outrageous.
But Shiro had strung together a Euro step, a one-handed switch-up, and then hung in the air long enough to let gravity catch up—now that was pure insanity.
Midorima muttered a curse under his breath before glancing at Takao, who looked utterly deflated.
With an uncharacteristically gentle tone, Midorima said, "It's okay, Takao. You're still exceptional in your own way."
"…Really?" Takao's mood brightened instantly at the rare compliment.
Midorima nodded. "Yes. But don't compare yourself to us. And definitely don't compare yourself to Shiro — he's in a completely different league."
Then, with absolute sincerity, he added, "Compared to us, you're still trash."
"…YOU SON OF A—"
Takao exploded, cursing Midorima's entire bloodline. He actually thought the guy was about to say something comforting!
Meanwhile, over in the stands, Akashi and the others were deep in thought.
If Murasakibara defended like this, could they even score against him?
Aside from Akashi, none of them would even force Murasakibara into a third jump.
And if Shiro attacked like this… could anyone stop him?
The team collectively turned toward Akashi—because they knew.
Aside from him, no one else even stood a chance.
The initial left-handed drive, the Euro step, the one-handed switch-up, and finally the superhuman hang time—none of them had the defensive ability to counter any of it.