The scoreboard now read 25-28, and Fukui still had possession.
Shiro stood just a step behind the half-court line, while Murasakibara, learning from before, moved up to the three-point line—he had to lock down Shiro this time. If he let him get a shot off...
Kawamura once again inbounded the ball to Shiro. Seeing Murasakibara stepping all the way out to guard him, Shiro couldn't help but smile.
Then, instead of advancing, he took a few steps backward.
The crowd collectively tensed up.
What the hell is he doing?!
Murasakibara suddenly had a bad feeling.
Shiro kept retreating... until he was all the way back at his own three-point line.
Then, under everyone's shocked gaze—he gathered, flicked his wrist, and shot.
The motion was effortless, fluid—no hesitation, no wasted movement.
"Fuck!" Okamura couldn't help but curse. "No fucking way, that far?!"
As the ball soared through the air, tracing a perfect arc, the entire gymnasium fell into silence.
All eyes were locked onto the spinning basketball, as if time itself had frozen.
And yet, on the court, Shiro's expression remained calm—completely in control.
Swish!
The net barely rippled. A clean, perfect shot.
For a moment, the gym remained silent.
Then—a deafening eruption of cheers and gasps.
"NO FUCKING WAY!" Someone shouted in disbelief.
"That's literally a full-court three, just like Midorima!" Another fan jumped out of their seat, as if they had been the one to make the shot.
The scoreboard updated—25-31. Fukui extended their lead.
But more than just a six-point gap, this shot shook Yōsen to their core.
Up in the stands, Midorima remained composed. He had to admit—he approved of Shiro's shooting.
"Unbelievable... As expected from the Ace of the Generation of Miracles. He's a complete player."
Takao chuckled bitterly. "Shiro's got everything—handles, shooting, passing, defense...all at a top-tier level."
No wonder he was the true Ace of the Generation of Miracles. Losing to him? No shame in that.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the stands, Akashi's eyes glinted with surprise.
"He's even refined his three-point range to this extent..."
But rather than disappointment, a smile spread across Akashi's face.
"This is good. Only by defeating Shiro at his peak will my victory be truly complete."
Even Mibuchi, one of the best sharpshooters in high school basketball, was left speechless.
Hayama and Nebuya turned to him with questioning eyes—"Can you do that?"
Mibuchi shot them a glare.
"If I could, I'd be in the Generation of Miracles too, dumbass."
Back to the Court
Murasakibara was beyond frustrated.
He recognized that move.
"That's totally what Midorin does..." he muttered under his breath.
"So cheap."
With an aggrieved expression, he threw a glare at Shiro.
Sensing it, Shiro just shrugged. "What? I didn't do anything."
Now it was Yōsen's possession.
Murasakibara immediately ran back into the paint, and Shiro followed.
Kensuke Fukui once again fed the ball inside.
This time, Murasakibara was far more cautious.
Even with Shiro pressing against him, he didn't panic.
His stance lowered, arms coiling around the ball like a snake—total control.
Shiro kept tight on him, using physical pressure to disrupt his movements.
But Murasakibara's wingspan was monstrous—every time Shiro tried to reach in, he was kept at bay.
Then—Murasakibara made his move.
With a sharp bump, he shoved back against Shiro, muscling him off-balance just enough to create space.
Shiro staggered back slightly—a fraction of a second—but for a player like Murasakibara, that was all he needed.
Without hesitation, he spun, cradled the ball, and exploded upward.
With his towering height and ridiculous wingspan, Murasakibara launched himself toward the rim.
He was going to slam it down.
But just as he reached the peak of his jump—
Shiro jumped too.
Their eyes met in midair.
Murasakibara's pupils shrank slightly. No way.
He had never seen anyone match his elevation before.
Then again—Shiro wasn't anyone.
Still, power is power.
Murasakibara pushed through—there was no way Shiro could stop him.
He had the height.He had the weight.He had the dominance.
The best center in Japan's high school basketball scene wouldn't—couldn't—be denied.
Or so he thought.
Shiro's hands clamped down on the ball mid-air.
An unstoppable force met an immovable object.
Suddenly, Murasakibara felt resistance—the ball wasn't going down.
"What?!"
He instinctively put more force into the dunk—but so did Shiro.
The ball stalled.
The crowd held their breath.
Then—
"BANG!"
Shiro sent the ball flying.
Like a cannon blast, it rocketed away—Murasakibara's dunk attempt completely shut down.
For a brief moment, he remained frozen in the air.
Then, as he landed, his expression was blank.
He couldn't believe it.
Yōsen's players were in shock.
They knew Shiro was strong, but—physically overpowering Murasakibara in midair?
Unthinkable.
The audience exploded into chaos.
"WHAT THE HELL?!"
Midorima shot to his feet, gripping the railing so hard it shook.
Even Akashi's usually composed face showed cracks.
He had faced Murasakibara's power firsthand. He knew what it meant to try and stop him.
And yet, Shiro did it.
Head-on.
Akashi's gaze locked onto Shiro, a rare flicker of complexity in his eyes.
"Impossible... yet undeniable."