It was no wonder Atsushi Murasakibara was stunned—Dicky Anthony had already taken off.
Murasakibara stared blankly at the basketball arcing through the air, falling silent for a moment.
Swish!
The ball dropped cleanly through the net, the crisp sound echoing pleasantly.
Murasakibara scratched his head and asked dully,
"You can shoot?"
Dicky Anthony didn't quite understand him and instinctively turned to Shuzo Nijimura for help.
Shuzo Nijimura chuckled.
"Atsushi Murasakibara, Dicky Anthony isn't a center. He's our shooting guard. Hmm… how should I put it? Anyway, just guard his shot."
"He's not getting past you on a drive."
Murasakibara nodded slowly.
"Got it."
To be fair, Shuzo Nijimura wasn't wrong. Dicky Anthony's driving ability had indeed been one of his weaker points.
That was exactly why Miyamoto Tokima had specifically designed a dribbling and driving program for him. After that stretch of training, Dicky Anthony's penetration had improved noticeably.
But against Atsushi Murasakibara's elite defense, those improvements still weren't enough.
On the court.
Dicky Anthony was completely lost—he hadn't understood a word Shuzo Nijimura had said.
But he did notice something: the purple-haired guy in front of him had changed his stance.
He was guarding the shot now.
Shuzo Nijimura!!! You sold me out!!!
Dicky Anthony shook his head helplessly. He couldn't really blame him. Most opponents figured out his tendencies within two or three possessions anyway.
Whether they could stop him was another matter.
He looked at Atsushi Murasakibara—the tall, slightly vacant-looking giant.
Hope you can stop me.
No… let me see if you can.
With that thought, Dicky Anthony suddenly rose up for another jumper.
Murasakibara reacted instantly and jumped with him.
Even he hadn't expected Dicky Anthony to shoot so decisively.
Dicky Anthony's pupils trembled as he locked onto Murasakibara.
Because Murasakibara's right hand was getting closer—closer to the ball.
Dicky Anthony forced himself to keep his shooting form intact and released.
But precisely because he insisted on maintaining his form for accuracy, Murasakibara's fingertips brushed the ball.
Dicky Anthony's eyelid twitched.
He touched it?!
Shuzo Nijimura, watching from the sideline, was just as shocked.
Murasakibara actually got a piece of it!
Miyamoto Tokima nodded in quiet satisfaction.
Seems purps hasn't slacked off since I left.
On the court.
The ball struck the rim hard and bounced away.
Murasakibara turned immediately, preparing to attack.
"My turn."
Dicky Anthony didn't understand the words, but the meaning was obvious.
Possession changed.
Murasakibara cradled the ball in both hands, slightly hunched forward, his expression turning extremely serious.
He hated losing. The feeling of defeat made him deeply uncomfortable. Whenever he faced a strong opponent, he would naturally become serious.
And Dicky Anthony had triggered that switch.
Strangely, losing to Miyamoto Tokima never gave him that same frustration.
Perhaps, deep down, Atsushi Murasakibara only allowed Miyamoto Tokima to beat him. No one else had that right.
On the court.
Murasakibara's gaze sharpened, his face growing fierce.
A suffocating pressure rolled out from him once more.
Dicky Anthony's body tensed instantly.
It was pure instinct.
Or rather, his body reacting before his mind.
One clear message pulsed through him:
Danger.
The next second—
Murasakibara moved.
No wasted motion. His right hand pounded the ball once—
Then came the collision.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!!!
Murasakibara drove his body into Dicky Anthony again and again, backing him down with raw force.
Dicky Anthony gritted his teeth and tried to hold his ground.
But how could his strength compare to Murasakibara's?
Just two brutal bumps, and he was shoved backward.
After clearing space, Murasakibara turned his back to the basket, his expression twisting with intensity. A violent gust seemed to swirl around his feet.
The next instant—
He exploded upward, spinning 180 degrees in midair before hammering the ball into the hoop with both hands.
BOOM!!!
The rim rattled violently, metal groaning as it shook.
Fortunately, the Kirisaki Daiichi basket was reinforced. An ordinary rim would have been finished by that dunk.
On the sidelines, the rest of Kirisaki Daiichi wore complicated expressions.
Kazuya Hara swallowed hard and muttered,
"So this is… the center of the 'Generation of Miracles'… Atsushi Murasakibara?"
"That strength is insane."
It wasn't that their team lacked strong players. Shuzo Nijimura, Dicky Anthony, Shogo Haizaki—each of them was formidable.
But their styles were completely different.
They relied on drives and jumpers.
Their offense was versatile, flashy, pleasing to watch.
Murasakibara, on the other hand—
He was pure violence.
Forget drives. Forget finesse. He didn't need any of that.
He just powered through.
Brute force. Relentless force. Overwhelming force.
If you can stop me, try.
If you can't, I'm going straight through you.
And once he got inside, it ended in a dunk.
His basketball was simple. Crude, even.
But that raw dominance made your blood boil.
Miyamoto Tokima's expression shifted slightly as he watched.
In the original story, Murasakibara's strength hadn't been this overwhelming.
But now, he had reached this level.
Which meant he had truly taken Miyamoto Tokima's words to heart.
He had kept his promise. He had trained hard.
At the thought, Miyamoto Tokima smiled faintly.
The more he watched Atsushi Murasakibara on the court, the more endearing he found him.
On the court.
Dicky Anthony rubbed his chest and muttered,
"Damn… that's some crazy strength."
Even back in the US, he had never been bullied like that in the post.
His chest throbbed, but a grin slowly spread across his face.
It had been a long time since he'd met an opponent this satisfying.
Murasakibara's physical gifts and brutal style gave him a completely new thrill.
You… are a good opponent.
...