Shutoku vs Fukui

Standing at center court, Otsubo locked his gaze on the referee's hands, where the basketball rested, ready to be tossed into play. Across from him stood Fukui's center—an unknown figure, his reputation yet to be determined.

Both players bent their knees, muscles tensed, eyes locked on the ball, ready for the jump.

The referee took a deep breath, scanning the court to ensure everyone was in position. The ball in his hand became the focal point of the entire gymnasium, every player and spectator holding their breath in anticipation.

With a swift motion, the referee tossed the ball high into the air.

Whoosh!

Otsubo and the Fukui center leaped simultaneously, their bodies soaring toward the ball.

As one of the top centers in Tokyo, Otsubo had the clear advantage. He reached the ball first, tapping it toward Takao.

However, just as the ball was redirected, a blur of movement caught Otsubo's peripheral vision — Shiro, Fukui's ace, was already sprinting toward Takao with alarming speed.

Not good! Otsubo's heart tightened. He had intended to set up an easy possession for his team, but Shiro's reaction time was on another level.

The ball arced toward Takao's position, but before he could secure it, Shiro's outstretched arm intercepted it with ease.

Smack!

The ball was now firmly in Shiro's hands.

"Damn it!" Takao cursed under his breath. He had been a fraction of a second too slow.

Shutoku's players scrambled to recover, but it was too late. Takao, the closest defender, pushed himself to chase down Shiro, but compared to Shiro, his speed felt sluggish.

Shiro took flight, his body arching gracefully through the air as he palmed the ball. With force, he slammed it into the hoop.

BANG!

The rim rattled violently before the ball finally swished through the net.

Shiro landed smoothly and immediately sprinted back on defense, expressionless.

Takao, meanwhile, had barely made it past the three-point line. He could only watch as Shiro effortlessly put points on the board.

Takao took a deep breath, pushing aside his frustration. He knew this was coming, but witnessing Shiro's dominance firsthand was a different story.

Shiro, hailed as one of the new Generation of Miracles, was an opponent who demanded respect.

Regaining his composure, Takao picked up the ball and pushed forward. Across from him, Kawamura, stood like an immovable wall, his sharp eyes tracking Takao's every movement.

Takao attempted a few crossovers, but Kawamura's defense was suffocating, allowing no gaps for penetration.

Takao knew he couldn't afford to waste time. His eyes darted across the court, searching for an opening.

Then, he spotted Otsubo in the paint, using his massive frame to establish deep post position.

Without hesitation, Takao flicked his wrist, sending a precise lob pass toward his center.

Otsubo caught the ball cleanly. Using his strength, he backed into the Fukui center, who, despite his size, struggled to hold his ground.

With a powerful shove, Otsubo created separation. He wasted no time—gathering his strength, he exploded upward for a dunk.

His body soared through the air, the ball spinning in his grasp before he threw it down with authority.

For a brief moment, the entire gym fell silent.

Then—

BOOM!

The rim shuddered under the force of the dunk. The scoreboard flickered as the points registered: 2-2.

Otsubo landed and immediately retreated on defense, his expression unchanged, all business.

On the other end, Kawamura smirked, confidence gleaming in his eyes. He dribbled forward, the ball rhythmically bouncing off the hardwood.

Reaching the half-court line, he noticed Takao sagging off, giving him space.

Kawamura chuckled to himself.

'Underestimating me already?'

Taking two steps past the arc, he suddenly halted.

His body sank into a shooting stance—fluid, effortless. With a smooth release, he let the ball fly.

"Takao, step up on him!" Midorima yelled from the sideline, his voice urgent. He remembered all too well the damage Kawamura had done in past tournaments.

But it was too late.

Takao lunged forward in a desperate attempt to contest, but the ball was already in the air.

Swish!

A perfect three.

The crowd gasped.

Kawamura landed, turning to Takao with a playful smirk.

"Lesson one for a point guard: you better start respecting my shot."