Coming out of the timeout, Colorado's sixth man—their spark off the bench—drilled a clutch bucket to tie the game.
This reserve had been their X-factor all night, already tallying 21 points.
The Buffalo bench went wild, everyone on their feet, ready to storm the court in celebration.
But they still needed to do one thing to claim victory.
Stop the Bruins' #10 from scoring!
They had to contain this closer if they wanted to win tonight.
Time remained on the clock, and neither team had timeouts left.
"We should call timeout, Steve!"
"No need. He's been through this many times, and he's always delivered. Trust him—Yu will handle it."
Steve sounded relaxed, but his sweating palms betrayed his nerves.
Mosely brought the ball across halfcourt and immediately swung it to Yuuto.
He caught it one-handed, calmly watching the clock.
As he held the ball, time ticked down to its final seconds.
This was an absolutely critical possession.
Fans and players alike held their breath, watching intently.
Including ESPN's commentators. "Yu has the ball. He's not rushing—waiting for the perfect moment."
"The Bruins are only down 1. Even if he misses, as long as they run out the clock, they'll get at least one more chance to change the outcome."
The 30-second shot clock dwindled to 5 seconds. The defense knew Yuuto was about to make his move.
Then.
Without warning, instead of attacking forward, Yuuto retreated—two full steps back, positioning himself nearly two steps beyond the three-point line.
Then.
Without any wind-up, he rose and fired.
The motion was silky smooth, like flowing water—something he'd practiced millions of times.
Steve thought it was absurd, but Yuuto had bailed UCLA out with these "absurd" decisions countless times.
Tonight was no exception.
The defender lunged with everything he had but couldn't even reach Yuuto's hand. He could only watch helplessly as Yuuto flicked his wrist and released.
The ball traced a high, fast arc through the air—like an orange rainbow.
His hand had been specially trained for this!
Yuuto felt unprecedented confidence in this shot. The moment it left his fingers, he knew.
And so.
After landing, he did something even more audacious than the shot selection itself.
Under the stunned gazes of the fans, under the frozen expressions of Jerry West and Danny Ainge.
Yuuto didn't wait for the ball to drop through the net. He turned around, arms spread wide...
Then—
Swish!
The ball went in. Pauley Pavilion descended into absolute madness.
Not just because Yuuto had hit the go-ahead three—but because of his swagger, his personality, his "turn-around-before-it-goes-in" celebration worthy of the Mamba himself.
"OH MY GOD!!!!"
"YU—HE SHOOTS—FROM TWO STEPS BEYOND THE ARC!"
"That's the distance between the Moon and Earth! His shot was at least 30 feet from the basket, and he..."
"BANG!!!!"
The commentators lost their minds, screaming at the top of their lungs.
"This is Yu! A cold-blooded, lethal assassin!"
"He didn't even look back at his shot! The confidence!"
"This is killer instinct—Yu was born to do this!"
Praise poured from the announcers' mouths without pause.
The Bruins' bench exploded.
The only imperfection of this moment? Yuuto's shot wasn't a buzzer-beater. If it had been, they could've rushed the court with abandon.
But what the bench couldn't do, Mosely could.
They swarmed Yuuto, wrapping him in tight embraces, peppering their congratulations with various "fucks" to express their disbelief and excitement.
The Buffalo bench fell silent.
Players who moments ago had been celebrating now looked like they'd been doused with ice water.
Bone-chilling cold swept through them.
Colorado's coach immediately called timeout for one final stand.
But Yuuto read their play perfectly. He covered half the court and swatted the inbound pass out of bounds with a thunderous block.
The 13,000-plus fans at Pauley erupted, already celebrating their 13th straight win.
"If you haven't put Yu in your top-three lottery mock, you're not a professional—you're an amateur, a complete rookie." The commentators hadn't stopped shouting.
"Yes, we've been talking all year about how unstoppable this Kentucky team is, but Kentucky—don't get comfortable!"
His broadcasting partner chimed in.
"Yu is rising rapidly. He led Covanord to two state championships. Now he's replicating that success at UCLA. Thirteen straight wins is his answer!"
"AD, don't think the number one pick is already yours! If I owned an NBA team, I'd move heaven and earth to get Yu on my roster—at any cost!"
Meanwhile...
The highly praised Yuuto was receiving his head coach's still-trembling tirade.
"You damn Asian—betting everything on that ridiculous shot at that moment!"
"But nice work, you heart-attack-inducing bastard! You hit a top-tier bucket—and that block!"
As a coach, staying calm was essential. Only with composure could you read the game and help your team.
But right now.
Steve was just like the damn fans—heart racing, adrenaline flooding his brain to the point where thinking clearly was impossible.
He wanted nothing more than to rip off his tie, throw down his jacket, and scream like a dog in heat.
"That's not even the best part. If they'd made that three, I could've had a walk-off game-winner. They're too weak."
"Yeah, they're weak and you're strong—is that what you're saying, you bastard?"
"Pretty much."
"Fuck. You really don't know what humility means."
Steve was equal parts frustrated and delighted.
Yuuto was a difficult player to coach. Steve hated difficult players. But what could he do when this one was a genius?
As long as Yuuto remained at UCLA, he could do whatever he wanted—even take a dump at center court.
Coming out of the timeout, Colorado had 2.9 seconds for one last desperate attempt. They ran a play to get the ball to tonight's X-factor, their sixth man—Kenny, a former four-star recruit in high school.
But Yuuto once again demonstrated the gap between five-star and four-star.
Under Yuuto's suffocating defense, Kenny couldn't find any space to shoot. He forced up a desperation fadeaway that didn't even hit rim.
Colorado had to foul. Yuuto stepped to the line.
Swish!
First free throw good—his personal scoring total eclipsed 50 again.
On to the second.
NCAA rules differed from the NBA: if you missed your first free throw, you didn't get a second attempt. You only shot the second one if you made the first.
Yuuto took a breath, adjusted, and released. Swish. The second one dropped too. The lead stretched to 4, and with just seconds remaining, UCLA's 13th consecutive victory was all but secured.
...
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