Yōsen was strong—one of the most watched teams this year.
The reason was simple: their roster included Generation of Miracles center Murasakibara Atsushi.
The current Generation of Miracles essentially represented the best at each position—excluding Yuuto from the equation.
But this year, what surprised everyone most about Yosen wasn't Murasakibara.
Many analysts and fans agreed: Yosen's biggest discovery was the transfer student, Himuro Tatsuya.
His debut came during the Summer Inter-High, where he dropped 60 points in his first game.
People said Yōsen, like Seihō, had finally addressed their roster's last weakness and achieved perfection.
Tokyo's Iron Wall. Akita's Absolute Defense.
This referred to Seihō and Yōsen—both teams built around the same philosophy: defense wins championships.
Such teams were incredibly hard to score against, but their weakness was equally obvious: insufficient offensive firepower.
Himuro Tatsuya's arrival solved that problem for Yōsen.
Throughout the entire tournament, Yōsen's leading scorer wasn't Generation of Miracles member Murasakibara—it was Himuro.
So naturally, a talent like him wouldn't go unnoticed for long.
Himuro had no intention of passing. He was determined to defeat Yuuto head-on.
The first possession had just been a probe. Now the real game began.
His speed picked up, body undulating constantly as he moved.
In that moment, he seemed to vanish—people's attention followed his rhythm unconsciously, drawn into his flow.
Spectators watched as Himuro, who should have been charging right, suddenly materialized on the left in the blink of an eye.
"Hmph."
The next instant, Yuuto turned his head and lunged forward, arm whipping out like a lash.
But this was another fake.
Himuro snapped the ball back to the opposite side in a flash.
Though his physical stats didn't match the Generation of Miracles, his blindingly fast ball control created driving speed comparable to theirs.
"Another fake!" someone shouted. This street tournament's level was getting ridiculous.
This wasn't like before. Usually everyone just came out to have fun—nothing this intense.
Himuro blew past Yuuto by half a step and rose for a quick pull-up.
Tsugawa Tomoki, positioned nearby, immediately jumped to contest, arm firmly blocking the ball's path.
The next second, his eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
Himuro ignored the defense entirely, calmly releasing his shot.
The ball leaving his hand seemed to phase through Tsugawa's palm like a phantom before dropping cleanly through the net with a pure swish.
The crowd erupted.
"Isn't that Yuuto's Mirage Shot?!"
The Seirin players exclaimed in shock.
"The Mirage Shot isn't yours alone. I don't know where you learned it, but this is something I mastered long ago."
He'd learned it from his mentor back in America—dedicated countless hours to perfecting it.
Then he'd discovered someone on the other side of the Pacific had taught themselves the same technique. That had been a real blow at the time.
But he'd moved past it.
Himuro finished speaking and deliberately glanced at Kagami, as if saying: See that? I scored on him.
Unfortunately, Kagami didn't understand the message.
Or rather, even if he did, he couldn't acknowledge it.
He knew too well how terrifying Yuuto could be. This was just the beginning, not the end.
"Amazing! That guy can do the Mirage Shot too!"
"Hey, Yuuto, let me take him on?" Tsugawa Tomoki was buzzing with excitement, like he'd spotted prime prey.
"You'll get your chance later. For now, let me handle it. This is getting interesting."
His mood had improved. His brain was already churning, rapidly dissecting his opponent's style.
...
Yuuto took the inbound pass and looked at Himuro. "Not bad."
"Is that you admitting defeat?" Himuro's eyes turned cold.
"It means you're worthy of being my opponent." Yuuto's arms blurred—simple movements unleashing devastating force.
"This level of fundamentals..." Himuro had seen it on TV, but experiencing it firsthand was something else entirely.
He understood this playing style better than anyone.
Because his own talent was limited, once he'd recognized that ceiling, he'd committed to mastering everything within his reach.
That included fundamentals.
He believed he'd pushed them to the absolute limit. His reality-bending fakes were the proof.
Without rock-solid fundamentals, that style was impossible.
And yet?
These same basic skills became an entirely different weapon in Yuuto's hands.
Bang, bang~
Within seconds, Himuro felt his defense crumbling.
Speed, power, technique, court vision, instincts—every metric exceeded his own.
Is it only effective on offense?
Yuuto probed several times and discovered Himuro's fakes only worked on the attacking end.
Made sense—how would you use fakes to deceive someone on defense?
With that thought, he suddenly accelerated, a blur slicing past Himuro's right side.
"What?!" Himuro's heart lurched. By the time his brain caught up, Yuuto had already blown by—impossible to stop.
BOOM!
A one-armed slam. Seihō extended their lead.
"Your turn, then."
Yuuto landed and walked directly to Himuro's side. He would shadow the self-proclaimed best below the Miracles for the entire game.
"Full-court press? What's he planning?"
"Probably completing his calibration."
Kuroko sensed ulterior motives. "He's using Kagami's brother as a whetstone."
"Completing his calibration? You mean..."
"It appears so. Yuuto isn't treating this as a real match. He just wants to use it for self-improvement."
The Seirin players didn't know what expression to wear.
This was absurdly confident.
Such a powerful opponent—someone who radiated Generation of Miracles-level intensity—being treated as nothing more than a sharpening stone.
It meant Yuuto was certain he could win. Himuro Tatsuya was his to crush whenever he chose.
...
On the court, Yuuto and Himuro's battle continued.
Himuro's earlier confidence had completely evaporated.
This opponent's defense was impenetrable. He couldn't find a single gap.
"He's only played one possession against me... This kind of talent!" Himuro was shaken by Yuuto's evolution speed, while deep down, resentment burned.
The natural gifts this opponent possessed were exactly what he'd always yearned for in his heart—and never had.
"Losing focus mid-play isn't a good habit." Yuuto's arm swept out, powerfully stripping the ball and slapping it out of bounds. "At this level, you'll never beat Kagami."
He wanted Himuro to try harder. Time for some provocation.
The approach wasn't subtle, but for a brother-complex like Himuro, it would be devastatingly effective.
...
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