The ball landed in the hands of Kawamura, who instantly recognized this as a golden opportunity to score—he couldn't afford to waste it.
Like a coiled spring, he exploded forward, accelerating toward the basket.
Murasakibara snapped out of his brief daze and quickly refocused—now wasn't the time to be shocked; he had to go all out to stop the play.
Adjusting his stance, he took off after Kawamura with surprising agility for his size, his long arms forming a near-impenetrable defensive wall.
Yet Kawamura wasn't intimidated. He kept his speed, eyes locked onto the rim as he drove into the paint.
Murasakibara was right behind him, muscles tensed, waiting for the perfect moment to jump for the block.
Just as Murasakibara prepared to leap, Kawamura—without even looking back—flicked the ball behind him with pinpoint accuracy.
Everyone was caught off guard.
Murasakibara's block attempt missed completely.
The ball traced a perfect arc through the air, landing right in the hands of Shiro, who was positioned three steps behind the three-point line—completely unguarded.
With no hesitation, Shiro caught the pass, bent his knees like a bowstring being drawn, and then released the shot in one fluid motion.
Swish!
The sound of the ball snapping through the net was crisp and clean—nothing but net.
The arena erupted once again.
The scoreboard updated: 25-34—Fukui had stretched their lead, and Yōsen's advantage was crumbling.
Murasakibara wasn't having it.
There was no way he was going to accept being outplayed in the paint.
Taking a deep breath, he planted himself back in the low post, his eyes locked onto his teammate Kensuke Fukui, signaling for the ball.
His teammates still believed in him, and Kensuke Fukui quickly fed him the pass.
But Shiro had already anticipated this. A small smile played on his lips, as if saying, "You can try all you want, but the result won't change"
In his Animal Instinct, Shiro's sheer strength was starting to surpass even Murasakibara's.
Murasakibara didn't notice the shift. He leaned in, trying to bulldoze Shiro backward with a powerful post move.
But this time, Shiro played it smart. Instead of meeting force with force, he subtly shifted his stance, making it seem like he was holding his ground—only to suddenly pull the chair at the last second.
Murasakibara, expecting resistance, lost his balance completely.
With nothing to brace against, his own momentum sent him tumbling to the floor.
Shiro seized the moment.
With a sharp smack, he stripped the ball right out of Murasakibara's hands.
No time wasted—Shiro immediately took off down the court, blazing ahead like a lightning bolt.
Murasakibara scrambled to his feet, trying to give chase, but Shiro was already gone.
Other Yōsen players tried to catch up, but no one could match his speed.
Then, as he neared the hoop, Shiro took flight.
Launching himself into the air, he pulled off a powerful reverse windmill dunk, slamming the ball through the rim with authority.
Bang!
The entire backboard shuddered as the crowd exploded in cheers.
Fukui High was now up by 11.
Yōsen's players felt the pressure mounting.
Their interior anchor—their dominant big man—was struggling against Shiro in the paint. The confidence in their game plan was beginning to waver.
Kensuke Fukui knew they couldn't just rely on Murasakibara anymore. His gaze shifted to Himuro.
If Murasakibara couldn't break through, then it was time for their second ace to take over.
Himuro's expression darkened, his eyes filled with determination.
Moyun, meanwhile, remained locked in, fully aware of the danger. As Shiro had once put it, If anyone in high school basketball comes close to the Generation of Miracles, it's Himuro.
Himuro made his move.
His movements were crisp, powerful—raising his arms, creating space with his elbow, and rising up. Every action was a threat.
Moyun reacted instantly, lunging forward to contest the shot.
But just as he jumped, something clicked in his mind—Wait. Himuro is a master of fakes.
His eyes darted downward.
Sure enough, Himuro's feet hadn't actually left the ground—it was a pump fake.
Moyun's heart skipped a beat, but his instincts took over. He forced his body to stop mid-air, twisting to recover his balance.
Himuro smiled.
Dribbling past him in one smooth motion, he blew by Moyun and into open space.
But Moyun refused to give up.
Planting his foot, he immediately pivoted and chased after Himuro.
Himuro took one more step, then gathered for his signature pull-up jumper.
Moyun recognized the real shot this time.
Springing off the ground with everything he had, he reached up to contest the shot.
Himuro's eyes flickered in surprise—he hadn't expected Moyun to react that fast.
But he didn't panic.
At the peak of his jump, he snapped his wrist, releasing the ball just as Moyun's hand grazed past it.
The ball soared in a graceful arc.
Swish!
A perfect three-pointer.
Kawamura's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Wait… that just… passed right through his hand?!"
It felt almost supernatural—like the ball had phased through Moyun's block.
"That was… a Mirage Shot?"
Shiro chuckled softly, wiping sweat from his forehead with the hem of his jersey.
Then, his gaze shifted back to Murasakibara.
For a brief moment, their eyes met.
Shiro exhaled, feeling the fatigue creeping in.
Going up against Murasakibara is no joke… Every collision is a battle of pure force.
Meanwhile, Moyun quietly acknowledged Himuro's skill.
He didn't feel discouraged.
Alright, that was impressive. But let's see if you can handle my response.
From the stands, Akashi watched the exchange with interest.
Himuro was right at the edge — so close to their level, yet not quite there.
Like an invisible barrier standing between him and the Generation of Miracles.
Akashi's sharp eyes narrowed slightly.
Within seconds, he had already unraveled the mystery behind Himuro's shot.