Akashi dribbled past half-court, skillfully dishing the ball to Shiro waiting on the left wing behind the three-point line.
Shiro made a quick, unassuming crossover in front of his defender, Hayama, who remained completely unfazed by the move.
But Shiro wasn't deterred. Without hesitation, he executed Iverson: Crossover. This time, the move hit its mark—Hayama's balance shifted, leaving him in the dust.
With his opponent outmaneuvered, Shiro leapt confidently and pulled off a smooth jump shot. The ball soared gracefully through the air and swished perfectly into the hoop, as precise as a guided missile.
The scoreboard now read: 43-27.
Hayama stood frozen, visibly shaken by Shiro's dominance.
The Fukuyama point guard quickly inbounded the ball to Hayama. This time, Hayama decided to switch up his strategy, motioning to his power forward to come set a screen.
The moment the power forward locked eyes with Hayama, he understood the plan and rushed over to block Shiro.
But Shiro was one step ahead. With lightning-fast reflexes, he weaved around the screen before it could be properly set.
"You can't face me head-on, can you?" Shiro muttered with a slight smirk, his words dripping with contempt.
Hayama's eyes narrowed, and without hesitation, he unleashed his signature Lightning Dribble. "Three fingers!" he shouted as the ball spun violently in his hand, flashing like lightning through the air.
Shiro's lips curled into a faint smile. In an instant, he closed the gap, sticking to Hayama like a second shadow. His suffocating defense was relentless—a move that seemed impossible to counter.
And just like that, the unstoppable Lightning Dribble... was stopped.
Gasps rippled through the crowd as they watched in disbelief. No one had ever managed to block Hayama's move—not even in previous games.
It might have made sense if Shiro had stolen the ball from behind, but to shut it down head-on? That was unthinkable.
'What do I do now?' Hayama thought, feeling a sense of helplessness creeping over him. Facing Shiro's overwhelming defense, it seemed impossible to find a way through.
While Hayama hesitated for a split second, Shiro's eyes flashed with predatory intent.
In a blur, he swiped at the ball.
The ball ricocheted out of Hayama's control.
"Not good!" Hayama lunged, desperate to recover, but it was too late. Shiro had already snatched the ball, sprinting down the court like an arrow released from a bow. His sheer speed left everyone in the dust.
With no defenders ahead, Shiro soared into the air, slamming the ball into the hoop with a thunderous dunk that left the rim shaking violently.
The score: 45-27.
Fukuyama regained possession, but Hayama still couldn't crack Shiro's defense. Frustrated, he passed the ball to a teammate, hoping teamwork might succeed where individual effort had failed. After a hard-fought exchange, the power forward finally sank a shot.
The score became 45:29.
Shiro immediately went on the offensive, locking eyes with Hayama. Without hesitation, he turned his back and began a post-up. At the final moment, he mimicked a signature Kobe: Fadeaway Jumper, sinking the shot with flawless precision.
47:29
The ball returned to Hayama's hands, but doubt clouded his mind. 'How can I break through his defense?' he wondered. 'Should I try the Four-Finger Lightning Dribble?' But the thought filled him with anxiety. 'I haven't mastered it yet...'
Fukuyama's coach called for a time-out, sensing the turmoil in his star player.
"Hayama, you're not in the right condition to use the Four-Finger Lightning Dribble. It will put too much strain on your body—possibly even jeopardizing your future career" the coach warned sternly. "It's not worth the risk."
"If it comes down to it, we can forfeit the match. Teiko is just too strong."
Hayama clenched his fists in frustration. "Coach, this is all on me. I'm not strong enough to win"
"You've done everything you could," his teammates said, offering words of comfort. "We're the ones dragging you down"
"Why...?" Hayama whispered, lowering his head. "Why am I so weak? Why can't I lead Fukuyama to victory?" His voice was filled with regret and self-blame.
The time-out ended, and both teams returned to the court. But by now, the game was entirely in Shiro's control.
As the second quarter wore on, Teiko's dominance only grew. Their offense was unstoppable, their defense impenetrable. Fukuyama's efforts were in vain as the scoreboard climbed relentlessly.
67-40
The spectators looked on in awe. What they had hoped would be a tightly contested match turned into a one-sided affair. Fukuyama simply couldn't keep up with Teiko's overwhelming power.
The game's outcome seemed inevitable, with Teiko comfortably ahead by 27 points.
In Teiko's locker room, the atmosphere was light and celebratory. The players smiled and joked, treating the game as if it were little more than a warm-up. Shiro wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to the coach.
"Coach, I'd like to sit out the second half. Let Aomine handle Hayama from here" Shiro requested, his tone calm but edged with exhaustion.
Coach Shirogane gave a slight nod. "That's fine, but don't let your guard down. We can't afford to let them close the gap." He smiled, confident in his team's control of the game.
Aomine's eyes lit up with excitement. "Don't worry, Coach. I'll make sure Hayama doesn't get a single chance" His competitive spirit burned bright—this was the moment he had been waiting for.
The rest of the team chimed in with their support, fueling the locker room's energetic atmosphere. They were eager to see how the second half would unfold.
Meanwhile, in Fukuyama's locker room, the air was heavy with tension and despair. A suffocating silence blanketed the players, each lost in their thoughts. Hayama sat quietly in a corner, a wet towel draped over his head.
The coach forced a bitter smile. "You all played your hearts out today, but Teiko is just on another level. We've got nothing to be ashamed of"
Despite the coach's words, frustration lingered in the room. Fukuyama's point guard—now in his final year—broke the silence. "We may not win this, but we can still make them bleed. We'll fight until the end"
His words reignited the team's spirit.
"Hayama, we've got your back!" The players rallied around him, lifting the towel off his head.
With tears glistening in his eyes, Hayama clenched his fists. "Alright, let's take it to Teiko!"