When Yōsen regained possession, something unexpected happened.
Murasakibara remained under Yōsen's basket, making no effort to join the offense.
The players from Fukui were momentarily puzzled, but having studied Yōsen's game footage, they knew that Murasakibara almost never participated in offense — his role was strictly defensive.
Still, the crowd found this strategy a bit reckless. This was the quarterfinals, after all, and Fukui was one of the tournament favorites.
With Murasakibara staying back, the offensive load fell entirely on Himuro.
The atmosphere on the court grew tense as all eyes focused on the center of the action.
A 4-on-5 situation made Yōsen's offense significantly more challenging.
Standing beyond the three-point line, Himuro calmly assessed the court. Ren remained inside the paint, ensuring control of the boards.
Kensuke Fukui delivered a crisp, pinpoint pass, the ball tracing a perfect arc through the air before landing smoothly in Himuro's hands.
In that moment, time seemed to freeze.
Moyun locked in, his nerves stretched to the limit as he tracked Himuro's every move.
Having analyzed Yōsen's footage, Moyun knew exactly how dangerous Himuro could be. He moved swiftly, aiming to cut off every possible shooting angle.
But Himuro was even faster—decisive and fluid, wasting no motion.
The instant he caught the ball, he sank slightly before launching into his shot. His release was as smooth as silk, his shooting form a thing of beauty.
No hesitation. No wasted motion. Just pure, effortless execution—basketball in its most elegant form.
The ball followed a flawless trajectory, cutting through the air straight toward the hoop.
Swish!
The ball ripped through the net with a crisp sound.
Himuro had just scored Yōsen's first points of the game.
"Damn, that was smooth!"
"Yeah, I almost got mesmerized by it!"
The crowd murmured in awe. That fluid release and lightning-fast shot reminded everyone of Shiro.
Both players had that same lethal shooting stroke, but Shiro had an extra layer of unpredictability, capable of seamlessly switching between a one-motion and two-motion shot, making him even harder to guard.
A distinct green-haired figure entered the stands.
Midorima had just arrived and caught sight of the shot, a faint look of admiration flashing in his eyes.
"What's so special about it?" Takao, following close behind, asked in confusion.
To him, it was just a well-executed shot—a smooth release, nothing more.
Midorima glanced at Takao, his expression unreadable, as if saying, You wouldn't understand. You haven't reached our level.
"You haven't experienced basketball at our level, so of course, you wouldn't notice anything." His voice was calm, yet carried a subtle air of superiority.
"Man, you're so full of yourself" Takao muttered, unimpressed, then playfully extended his middle finger.
On the other side of the stands, another striking figure entered.
Akashi, his crimson hair unmistakable, took his seat.
"The real game is only just beginning" remarked Mibuchi, glancing at the scoreboard.
Meanwhile, Hayama and Nebuya seemed completely uninterested, their yawns echoing through the tense atmosphere of the gym.
"Ugh, I didn't get enough sleep" Hayama complained, his voice laced with boredom, making it clear he wasn't taking the game seriously.
Akashi's gaze turned ice-cold as he addressed Hayama in a firm, commanding tone.
"We have all lost to him before" he said, his voice devoid of emotion but carrying undeniable authority. "We should treat this match with respect and pay close attention."
Something in Akashi's tone made Hayama pause. His usual carefree demeanor faded, and he turned his full focus to the game.
Back on the court, the intensity escalated.
Shiro didn't call for the ball this time—Kawamura instead passed to Moyun.
Inside the paint, Murasakibara's sheer presence put immense pressure on every opponent. Moyun was no exception. He knew that scoring in the paint against Murasakibara's defense was nearly impossible.
So he stayed outside the three-point line, not even attempting to drive in.
Facing Himuro's defense, Moyun's eyes burned with competitive fire. He knew Himuro was an elite player, but he also believed in his own strengths.
He initiated a triple-threat stance, shifting the ball smoothly between his hands, ready to react at a moment's notice. Then, he positioned the ball at his right hip.
Himuro remained unfazed, keeping his stance disciplined. He knew better than to fall for a simple fake.
Then, in a split second, Moyun executed a fadeaway jumper.
He leaned back sharply, his right hand pushing the ball upward with a soft touch.
The ball arced beautifully through the air, heading straight for the hoop.
Himuro reacted instantly, raising both hands to contest the shot, but his vertical leap wasn't enough to truly challenge Moyun's release.
Moyun's fadeaway had a deep angle, his body adjusting mid-air with an effortless motion.
The ball soared past Himuro's outstretched hands and—
Swish!
A clean, perfect shot. The crowd erupted.
Akashi turned to his teammates, his voice steady but laced with anticipation.
"Well?"
Mibuchi, always analytical, gave a measured response.
"They're impressive. These two aren't any weaker than the Uncrowned Kings."
It was a rare acknowledgment, signifying that Himuro and Moyun had reached the upper echelon of high school basketball.
Meanwhile, Hayama grinned, an eager glint in his eyes.
Akashi, noticing the look, immediately cut him off.
"Don't get ahead of yourself" he warned. "You'll be facing Shiro, while Moyun will be Mibuchi's responsibility."
Hayama's grin quickly faded.
"…Man, Shiro is a nightmare matchup."