The Unstoppable Shiro

Shiro's voice was like a spring breeze brushing over a frozen lake—warm and soothing, calming the turmoil in Moyun's heart.

He took a deep breath, pushing down all his anxiety and tension. A relaxed smile appeared on his lips as he nodded at Shiro and quickly returned to the frontcourt, as if the frustration from earlier had never existed.

Shiro's gaze swept over Midorima, a glimmer of sharpness flashing in his eyes. His body trembled slightly, and an aura similar to Midorima's but fundamentally different burst forth from him.

If Midorima's presence was like a venomous snake lying in wait, then Shiro was a shark gliding through the ocean — majestic and unstoppable.

Midorima sensed the shift in Shiro's energy, and a chill ran down his spine. A flicker of shock and unease appeared in his usually calm eyes. Why did Shiro's raw intensity make him feel fear?

It wasn't a fear of strength or skill but something primal — a deep, instinctual pressure that seemed to crush his confidence into insignificance.

The atmosphere on the court tensed instantly. The players from Shūtoku felt an overwhelming pressure unlike anything they had ever experienced. Despite the summer heat, they shivered, as if trapped in an invisible grip that left them paralyzed.

Shiro received the inbound pass from Kawmura with effortless fluidity, his movements devoid of any hesitation. His eyes locked onto the basket as if nothing else in the world mattered.

Then — whoosh! — in a flash, he exploded from the baseline to half-court in an instant. His speed was incomprehensible, as if he had broken the very laws of space itself.

So fast! Every player and spectator shared the same stunned thought. Most hadn't even fully registered his movement—one blink, and he was already at midcourt.

Swish!

The ball traced a perfect arc through the air before dropping cleanly through the net.

Silence. Then, an eruption of noise. The entire gym was in chaos. People rubbed their eyes, struggling to process what had just happened.

Midorima's pupils contracted. As a shooting specialist, he had a deep understanding of release speed—long-range shots naturally required more preparation time.

And yet, Shiro's release completely defied logic. That speed, that precision — it was just like… Steph Curry!

Midorima's mind reeled. He finally understood—only a shooter on the level of an NBA superstar like Curry could pull off such an impossible shot with that level of confidence and consistency.

On the sidelines, the players from Fukui looked at Shiro as if he were a guiding light, dispelling all doubt and hesitation. In their eyes, he was their ace, the strongest player on the court. Every shot, every point he scored was a testament to their unwavering trust in him.

Meanwhile, the once-relaxed expressions on the Shūtoku players' faces had long disappeared, replaced with deep concern.

They realized something critical: even with Midorima activating his Animal Instinct, he had only been able to suppress Shiro's regular state. But now that Shiro had activated his own Animal Instinct… how could Midorima possibly keep up?

That question loomed over everyone, even the spectators who had traveled far to witness this game. They leaned in, unwilling to miss a single moment, because they knew—this was about to become a battle like no other.

From the sidelines, Kise couldn't help but exclaim, "He's incredible!" His voice carried a mix of admiration and envy.

Shiro's mastery of Animal Instinct had completely surpassed his own. Kise couldn't help but ask himself—how long would it take before he could reach that level?

He shook his head, a wry smile forming on his lips. "That's just who he is."

Aomine stood nearby, silent, but his burning gaze spoke louder than words. The fire within him blazed with an insatiable desire—to challenge Shiro head-on, to test his own limits against the one who stood at the pinnacle.

Kagami, on the other hand, was utterly speechless. Shiro's skill had far exceeded his expectations. A creeping doubt began to settle in his heart. 'With a monster like him in Japan… do I even have a shot at being number one?' His fists clenched involuntarily.

Riko turned to Kuroko, her voice filled with concern. "Kuroko, was Shiro always this strong back in middle school?"

Kuroko shook his head with a small, bitter smile. "I don't know. I only joined Teiko's first string in my second year. Before that, all I heard was that Shiro had entered the Zone as a first-year and led Teiko to a championship."

The Seirin players stood frozen, a numb sense of realization washing over them. The bold declarations they had made earlier —about challenging the Generation of Miracles — suddenly felt hollow and naive. Against a player like Shiro… their dream of becoming champions seemed almost unreachable.

'Are we really going to have to streak if we lose?' The absurd thought flickered through their minds, draining the color from their faces.

Midorima stood at the perimeter, his expression unreadable. Despite the unsettling turn of events, he quickly steadied himself. He knew that against a player like Shiro, even the slightest moment of hesitation could mean defeat.

Receiving a sharp pass from Takao, Midorima inhaled deeply, preparing himself for the ultimate showdown.

Shiro stood before him, his eyes deep and all-consuming, radiating a suffocating intensity.

Midorima shook his head, attempting to dispel the oppressive feeling creeping into his mind. He understood—this game was no longer just about skill. It was a battle of mental fortitude.

Smack!

A loud impact shattered the tension. The ball had been stripped from Midorima's hands before he even realized what had happened.

"Too slow, Midorima!" Shiro's voice was calm, yet it carried the weight of an undeniable truth. A heavy blow landed directly on Midorima's confidence.

Stunned, Midorima hesitated for a split second—but that was all Shiro needed. In an instant, he had already launched into a blistering fast break.

Midorima scrambled to recover, sprinting with everything he had, but he was chasing a phantom. Shiro's speed had reached an unthinkable level, making Midorima's efforts feel futile.

With the court opening ahead of him, Shiro surged past the free-throw line. Then, in one explosive motion, he gathered the ball, took off, and soared through the air.

Boom!

A thunderous slam echoed throughout the gym as Shiro hammered the ball through the rim from behind the free-throw line.

The entire arena was left in shock, their mouths forming perfect O's.

A free-throw line dunk… from a step behind the line? In Japan? This wasn't just rare—this was unheard of.

At that moment, everyone watching understood.

Shiro wasn't just another skilled player.

He was something far beyond that.

He was unstoppable.