"He can even defend a fast break like that."
"This Generation of Miracles center is absolutely insane."
"Just how strong was Teikō back then, to actually lose to Yuuto?!"
The crowd marveled.
Murasakibara hadn't disappointed. Unbelievably powerful—truly worthy of being a Miracle.
Watching all the Generation of Miracles matches, it was easy to see just how terrifying Teikō had been in their prime.
And yet they'd still lost. Incredible.
"But this isn't the tempo Yōsen wants."
Aida Riko could see it clearly, as could most experienced observers.
This wasn't Yōsen's usual rhythm.
Reviewing all of Yōsen's game footage, it was obvious they preferred to settle things in half-court battles.
That style maximized their three-tower advantage while reducing the running distance and frequency for Okamura and the others, effectively conserving energy.
But now—
They were being forced to run with Seihō. Even though Murasakibara had defended that last possession, the situation remained grim.
Tweet!
The first quarter ended.
Seihō 26, Yōsen 19—a 7-point lead.
This had never happened before.
A fully assembled Yōsen was actually trailing.
Araki Masako had held the highest expectations for this lineup.
Though they'd lost to Rakuzan at the Inter-High, that was because Murasakibara and Himuro—their two pillars—hadn't played.
At full strength, they could stand toe-to-toe with Rakuzan.
Yet against Seihō, they'd fallen behind by 7 points in a single quarter, their vaunted Absolute Defense riddled with holes.
She glanced at her players resting on the bench.
Everyone's breathing rate was elevated, their exhaustion evident.
This was the downside of not controlling tempo. Aside from Himuro and Fukui, everyone else had been lugging their massive frames up and down the court with Seihō.
"Listen up. We need to slow this down first. This isn't the pace we want."
"Murasakibara, Tatsuya—it's on you two. Stretch their defense. Score efficiently. Don't give them fast-break opportunities."
Araki slammed the clipboard.
Everyone nodded gravely.
As national champions, Seihō's level had become crystal clear after just one quarter.
Incredibly strong.
Setting aside Yuuto the monster, the other players weren't pushovers either.
Only Murasakibara had his eyes downcast, listless.
He'd understood long ago what kind of sport basketball was.
What could be done, could be done. What couldn't be done—no amount of effort would change that.
Like himself.
He could react to Yuuto's passes, but his teammates absolutely couldn't.
That was talent.
Without it, you'd be stuck on the court, unable to move an inch.
"Murasakibara... Murasakibara... Murasakibara." Araki called his name three times before he snapped back, replying weakly, "Got it..."
He tossed aside his towel and stepped back onto the court.
Yōsen's ball.
Right from the start of the second quarter, they showed their adjustments.
Himuro isolated against Tsugawa.
He focused intently, his concentration razor-sharp—not just on his direct defender, but on Yuuto, who could strike at any moment.
Step!
He moved!
The instant Himuro entered the three-point arc, his heightened awareness detected Yuuto's action.
Without hesitation or any unnecessary thoughts, he whipped the ball to Fukui. He didn't trust himself to safely release the ball with Yuuto closing in.
Fukui caught it with no intention of attacking himself. Like a relay station, he instantly fed the ball into the paint.
Murasakibara received the pass, pivoted his massive frame, and hammered down a two-handed slam.
BOOM!
A thunderous dunk that made the rim shudder as if about to collapse.
Next possession—
They repeated the process. Himuro drew Yuuto's attention, then distributed. The ball safely reached Murasakibara in the paint.
Several consecutive possessions, Yōsen scored using this method.
Murasakibara's spinning, full-body power slam was one of the few techniques he actually knew.
Called the Thor's Hammer.
Iwamura and Ōmuro gave everything they had but it was useless—getting close meant getting bulldozed.
Under legal contact, this move maximized Murasakibara's power.
In high school basketball, finding a second player who could physically contest him head-on was nearly impossible.
Araki applauded from the sideline.
This was far from her ideal inside-out combination, but it at least temporarily solved their offensive problems.
But only temporarily.
7 minutes 29 seconds into the second quarter.
Yuuto made his move. As Murasakibara spun and elevated, Yuuto shot into the paint like lightning, his hand smacking firmly against the bottom of the ball.
The two wrestled beneath the basket.
After a moment, sensing the absolute gap in strength, Yuuto released his grip, allowing his opponent to complete the dunk.
BOOM!
Every member of Yōsen exhaled with relief. They'd genuinely feared even Murasakibara would be stopped.
But every Yōsen player's expression remained grave.
Just because he couldn't do it now didn't mean he couldn't later.
At minimum, Seihō's king had already matched their passing speed and completely read their offensive intentions.
Under her watchful gaze, Yuuto's eyes went blank for a moment before immediately refocusing.
This meant he'd completed another analysis, furthering his own evolution.
He found his teammate Iwamura and had a brief exchange.
Next possession.
Himuro continued his drive-and-dish.
But this time—
Just as Fukui was about to pass, he saw Iwamura stepping up to front the post.
This was actually within their expectations. Similar tactics occurred in leagues worldwide.
When an interior player became unstoppable—like Shaq back in the day—teams would find ways to prevent him from even catching the ball.
Fronting the post was one of many methods.
"Don't look down on us!" Fukui was decisive—terrifyingly so—lobbing the ball toward the paint without a moment's hesitation. "Get it, Murasakibara!"
Did they think a simple front would scare Yōsen off?
Impossible!
The basketball sailed toward Yōsen's paint. But at that moment, footsteps reached Himuro's ears.
Step!
Yuuto moved again, exploding forward like a laser beam aimed at Murasakibara in the paint.
Murasakibara had just received the pass. Due to the fronting pressure, Fukui had to lob it high enough, extending the ball's flight time.
Smack!
Smack!
Two crisp sounds of palms meeting leather.
The first was Murasakibara securing the catch. The second was Yuuto's arm reaching out to poke the ball away.
"I see—by fronting the post, they forced the lob pass, increasing the ball's airtime." Akashi's eyes gleamed.
...
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