Ikegami Ryoji stared at the basket, unable to recover from what he'd just seen.
What was going on? Kenichi Uesugi hadn't even aimed properly—he shot the ball directly in midair, during the jump.
And yet… the ball went in.
It was unbelievable.
"Coincidence," Ikegami muttered, struggling to find a reasonable explanation.
"It has to be a coincidence!"
From the sidelines, Sendoh watched Kenichi retreating after his shot.
Coincidence? he thought skeptically.
The energy Kenichi carried was far beyond what he'd expected.
This wasn't just some imitator.
"This is getting more interesting," Sendoh smiled.
He thrived on fighting strong opponents, and with Kenichi on the court, this training match had suddenly become exciting.
On the bench, Taoka Moichi sat silently, arms crossed, observing everything closely.
He didn't buy Ikegami's excuse.
Kenichi's shooting, while seemingly random, was the result of intense practice — from the jump rhythm to the release itself.
It was clear that Kenichi worked hard behind the scenes.
That pleased Taoka Moichi immensely. He respected players who combined talent and dedication.
The blue team now attacked.
Uekusa dribbled cautiously into the front court, facing Kazuki Kishino's defense.
Kazuki was a newcomer, and Uekusa, nicknamed "Papyrus," decided to give him a lesson—showing the gap between starters and substitutes.
Uekusa feinted a drive to Kazuki's right.
Kazuki took the bait, shifting his weight and attention.
Quickly, Uekusa dribbled between his legs, switching direction to the left.
Kazuki reacted—but he was a split second too slow.
Uekusa raced past, heading straight for the basket.
The red team's inside was guarded by Yuzumi, a formidable defender, so Uekusa played it smart.
He lobbed the ball over Yuzumi's head, sending it soaring toward the hoop.
Just as the ball hovered at the rim, Sendoh appeared like a phantom.
With a powerful two-handed dunk, he slammed the ball home.
Score tied at 2:2.
"What a beautiful alley-oop!"
"As expected of Sendoh!"
"We can never lose with him!"
Aida Hikoichi cheered from the sidelines, beaming.
Even without touching the ball this time, Sendoh's mood was ecstatic.
After a quick high-five with Uekusa, Sendoh glanced toward Kenichi Uesugi and flashed a friendly smile.
Kenichi knew that smile meant one thing—Sendoh's competitive spirit was fully ignited.
Good.
Kenichi was eager to test if he truly had the strength to go toe-to-toe with Sendoh.
The game pressed on.
Red team on offense again.
Yuzumi passed to Kazuki Kishino, who dribbled toward the front court.
Still smarting from Uekusa's earlier move, Kazuki was determined to fight back—to prove he wasn't outmatched.
But Yuzumi, watching from the basket, felt uneasy.
Based on Kazuki's rookie performance and just now, Yuzumi suspected Kazuki was best suited as a substitute.
A direct clash with Uekusa would likely end in defeat.
Yet Yuzumi said nothing. As a newcomer, Kazuki deserved his chance.
He needed to find his place on the team by understanding his own limits.
Kazuki dribbled deliberately, studying Uekusa's defense and plotting his attack.
He even imagined what dunk pose he might use.
Suddenly, Kazuki accelerated.
After a rapid dribble, he spun sharply, preparing to break through.
From the sidelines, Taoka Moichi frowned.
Though Kazuki's moves looked smooth, they were ineffective.
His feint failed to fool Uekusa.
When Kazuki spun, Uekusa's focus never wavered.
Before Kazuki completed his turn, Uekusa reached out and slapped the ball away.
Taoka shook his head in disappointment.
Kazuki's team awareness was weak.
He focused too much on personal skill but lacked strategic thinking.
He was only fit to be a substitute.
The ball rolled away from the red team's court.
Koshino quickly stepped forward and snatched it before it went out of bounds.
Kenichi Uesugi moved to the three-point line at the bottom corner, ready to assist.
Ikegami followed Kenichi's steps to the three-point line as well.
Seeing Ikegami's nervous expression, Kenichi guessed he was still worried about that quick shot from earlier.
But Kenichi would disappoint him.
He'd seen Koshino's intent to pass.
Without hesitation, Kenichi stepped back, caught the ball, jumped, and shot—all in one fluid motion.
"Again?" Ikegami's eyes widened.
This time, even prepared, he couldn't react in time.
He didn't jump or contest the shot.
Swish!
The ball sank through the net again.
Ikegami stared, stunned by the still-rippling net.
This time, there was no denying it.
Kenichi Uesugi's shooting wasn't luck.