NBA Skills: Dominating Kuroko no Basket

Three Weeks Later

It was May 16th.

Today, Fukui High School faced off against Shuchi Academy in a fierce showdown. This match was not only the opening game for the Osaka A Division but also a crucial opportunity for Fukui to showcase its strength to the outside world.

In the Osaka Gymnasium parking lot, the Fukui High basketball team members stepped off the bus one by one.

There were no reporters or media waiting to interview them. After all, Fukui High wasn't yet a team that attracted widespread attention.

Shiro led his teammates into the arena and headed straight to the locker room. They quickly changed into their uniforms, prepared their gear, and ensured they were fully ready for the game.

When the last fifteen minutes before the match arrived, Shiro and his teammates exited the locker room and stepped onto the court for their final warm-up.

The audience in the stands was sparse — likely because both Fukui High and Shuchi Academy lacked the appeal of traditional powerhouse teams.

Beep!

The sharp whistle of the referee signaled the start of the game.

Both teams marched confidently onto the court, taking their positions. The referee stood at center court, holding the bright orange basketball in both hands, before tossing it high into the air.

The centers from both teams jumped simultaneously. Ultimately, Fukui's center had the edge, tapping the ball toward Kawamura.

Kawamura swiftly caught the ball and immediately passed it to Shiro, who had already reached midcourt. Without hesitation, Shiro launched a shot directly from there.

Swish!

The ball cut through the air in a graceful arc and fell cleanly into the net without touching the rim. Fukui scored the first basket with lightning speed.

The Shuchi players stared at Shiro in disbelief, their expressions frozen in shock.

"No way!"

"He just shot like that right after the tip-off — and he made it!"

Even the spectators were stunned by the sudden and audacious play. They had never seen someone take such a bold shot so early in the game.

The arena fell silent, the only sound lingering being the crisp swish of the net.

On the Shuchi bench, their coach was left speechless, his mouth agape.

He couldn't fathom that someone would take such a risky shot and, even more shockingly, make it. A deep unease began to settle in as he observed Shiro.

While the audience was still digesting the spectacle, Shuchi's players quickly refocused and began their offense. Their point guard crossed the half-court line cautiously, only to have Shiro appear like a phantom, easily poking the ball away.

Shiro then bolted toward the basket, a blur of speed no one could stop. With a stunning 360° spin dunk, he added two more points for Fukui.

The scoreboard now read 5:0. Less than 15 seconds into the game, Fukui had already scored twice.

Shuchi attempted another attack, their point guard now on high alert after the earlier steal. Clutching the ball protectively, he scanned the court nervously, determined to avoid a repeat.

He decided to lob the ball to their center in the paint, hoping to break the momentum.

But Shiro anticipated the play perfectly. He leaped into the air, intercepting the pass effortlessly.

Shuchi's center, standing at just 190cm, could do nothing to counter Shiro's incredible vertical leap.

Shiro's gaze locked onto Nijimura, who was already sprinting toward the basket like a missile. Without hesitation, he executed a quarterback-style long pass. The ball traced a flawless arc through the air, landing squarely in Nijimura's hands.

Nijimura didn't miss a beat. Leaping high, he delivered a ferocious tomahawk dunk that rattled the rim and brought the crowd to its feet.

The score now stood at 7:0.

Shuchi's coach immediately called for a timeout, his face betraying his growing anxiety. Shiro's dominance was undeniable.

"Great job! Keep up this momentum!" Miyamoto said with a calm smile.

However, Miyamoto knew the truth: this game was nothing short of a crushing victory in the making. With a player of Shiro's caliber, anything less than a commanding victory would be a failure on his part as a coach.

Shiro and his teammates, seated on the bench, appeared relaxed and confident, their faces glowing with satisfaction.

In stark contrast, Shuchi's players were drenched in sweat, their heavy breathing betraying both physical exhaustion and the overwhelming pressure they faced.

On the Shuchi bench, their coach frowned deeply.

"Who is this boy? Why does he look so familiar?" he murmured, unable to hide his confusion.

One of his players chimed in, "Coach, haven't you read the basketball magazines? He's Shiro, the ace of the Generation of Miracles! They called him the best player in all of Japan during middle school!"

"What? He's that Shiro?" the coach exclaimed, utterly stunned. He had heard of the Generation of Miracles — legends in the world of basketball — but had never seen their photos. To discover that such a player was now his team's opponent was nothing short of shocking.

Though the coach attempted to maintain a composed demeanor, his heart sank. Facing someone of Shiro's caliber meant his team had little hope of victory.

The timeout ended, and both teams returned to the court. The game resumed, but the outcome was becoming increasingly clear.