"Shiro, if you dare step into the paint, I'll crush you!"
Murasakibara clenched his fists, glaring at Shiro with a mix of frustration and irritation. His usual world-weary expression made it almost comical.
Shiro met his gaze with a smirk, confidence and challenge gleaming in his eyes. He lightly patted his chest, then spread his arms wide, as if to say he wasn't afraid.
"Oh? Then let's see it, Murasakibara. I'm looking forward to your growth." His voice was deep and firm, carrying the weight of a battle-ready mindset.
Fukui still had possession.
Kawamura flicked his wrist, the ball tracing a perfect arc through the air before landing precisely in Shiro's hands.
Though Kawamura still had doubts about Shiro getting blocked earlier, his trust in him never wavered.
Shiro caught the ball smoothly, his sharp, predatory gaze locking onto the rim.
Liu was in front of him, but there was no hesitation in Shiro's eyes. He dropped his stance slightly, then exploded forward with such speed that the air itself seemed to rip apart.
A blur of movement—Shiro glided past him with ease.
"Fuck! How the hell do you guard this guy?!"
Liu cursed internally, feeling the sheer intensity radiating from Shiro. It was a suffocating presence, one that sent a chill down his spine. He knew it now—there was no way he could match up against Shiro.
Even after getting blown by, Liu still sprinted to recover his position.
But now, standing between Shiro and the basket, was an even bigger obstacle—Murasakibara.
208 cm (6'10"). A damn wall.
Murasakibara's expression held a hint of disdain, as if saying, "You really think you can get past me?"
Shiro, however, remained calm. Not even a flicker of doubt.
A quick crossover—so deceptive that Murasakibara hesitated for a split second.
That brief moment was all Shiro needed.
He immediately followed up with a step-back, retreating to the free-throw line, creating just enough separation.
Murasakibara, with his insane reflexes, quickly adjusted and got back in front of him.
But Shiro wasn't shooting yet. Instead, he shifted the ball to his off-hand, turning slightly sideways—an unusual posture that left everyone in the gym confused.
Then, he gave his answer.
A skyhook.
Right from the free-throw line.
The entire gym gasped.
Murasakibara, though momentarily stunned, reacted on instinct, leaping up to swat it away.
But Shiro had already elevated—his body fully extended, the ball released at the peak of his jump in a picture-perfect skyhook.
A move that had carved its place in basketball history. Not something you could just block.
At the moment of release, Shiro subtly used his non-shooting arm to shield against Murasakibara's contest. A small movement, but enough to create just a bit more space.
Murasakibara stretched out his arm—his massive wingspan like a dark shadow looming over the court.
But it wasn't enough.
Shiro had timed his release at the absolute peak of his jump, making it impossible to block.
Murasakibara had the height and the vertical, but in this moment, neither mattered.
The ball soared in a perfect arc, slicing through the air…
Swish.
Nothing but net.
For a moment, the entire gym froze.
Then—an explosion of cheers.
"Holy shit!"
Moyun, who had been holding his breath, could only blurt out one phrase. His face was filled with awe.
This wasn't just basketball. This was artistry.
A skyhook was something anyone could attempt, but executing it with such a high release point and draining it from the free-throw line? That was next-level.
Himuro's expression turned serious. His eyes locked onto Shiro.
He knew Shiro was strong. But he never expected him to break through Murasakibara's defense this easily.
Murasakibara had always been an unmovable wall. But today, Shiro scaled that wall like it was nothing.
"Damn, what kind of shot was that?!"
"I've never seen this before. Did he prepare this just for Murasakibara?!"
The crowd buzzed in shock and excitement.
Shiro had already proven he was an elite player, but now—this was something different.
Murasakibara's expression darkened, frustration written all over his face.
He had been so sure, so confident he could stop Shiro. He had even threatened to crush him.
But reality had just slapped him across the face.