Alex nailed two quick shots back-to-back, forcing Ikegami—his defender—to feel the mounting pressure.
Ikegami had already seen Alex in action during the rookie tournament. He knew the kid had potential. That much was obvious. A player to watch out for.
What he didn't expect was to be the first victim of that potential.
And it wasn't pretty.
As the team's defensive anchor, Ikegami was used to reading his opponents like open books. But against Alex, he found no opening. No rhythm to disrupt. No weak spot to exploit.
How do you stop someone like that?
Every time Alex jumped, it meant he was already shooting—and shooting fast.
In all his years of playing, Ikegami had never encountered someone with a release that quick. It completely threw him off.
Over on the bench, Coach Taoka shifted in his seat, excitement flashing in his eyes."Just as I thought… he's been putting in hours mastering that weird shooting form."
But even as a grin tugged at his lips, a flicker of worry crossed his face.
That ultra-quick shot might work for now—but it's not invincible.What if someone figures him out in the regional or national tournaments?Would Alex have a Plan B? Could he still score under pressure?
In Taoka's heart, he believed Alex was meant to be a complete player—offense and defense. But if his ability to score got shut down…
That would be a massive blow to Ryonan.
"Do you have another way to score?""If you do… show me."
The blue team launched another offensive.
Uekusa once again looked to exploit Kazuki Kishino's side—still the weakest point in the opposing defense. He understood the golden rule of attack:
Strike where it hurts most.
As he slipped past Kishino with a clean dribble, ready to penetrate the lane, a sudden shadow loomed in front of him.
"Alex?!"
He hadn't even noticed when Alex rotated over. The surprise double-team made Uekusa flinch, just for a moment.
But he wasn't a rookie like Kishino. He had experience. Grit.
Quickly regaining his composure, he made the read.
If Alex is double-teaming me, that means…
He glanced behind the defender—and there it was:Ikegami, completely unguarded and waving for the ball.
Alex's rotation had left him wide open.
Uekusa didn't hesitate. He snapped a pass over Alex's shoulder, threading it cleanly toward Ikegami.
A small smirk crept onto his face.
"Too young, Alex. You fell for it.""You came for the double, but no one covered your man.""What, you think Ikegami can't shoot just because he's a defensive specialist?""Kids… always getting cocky after a couple flashy plays."
Ikegami, now free on the perimeter, was already picturing redemption. After letting Alex score on him twice, he needed to make something happen—or face the coach's wrath after the game.
But just as he caught the ball, a loud "smack!" echoed through the gym.
The ball never reached him.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
Alex—without even looking—had reached out with one hand and snatched the ball midair from behind his own back.
He didn't turn his head. Not even a glance.
Had he… seen it?
Did he have eyes in the back of his head?!
Ikegami was frozen.
Uekusa, just as stunned, stared in disbelief.Alex had been looking straight at him the whole time—never once glancing behind.
And yet… he intercepted the pass perfectly.
How?!
What no one knew was that Alex had just pulled off a move inspired by Izuki Jun's Eagle Eye and Eagle Claw—two legendary skills from Black and Blue. By mimicking both at once, he gained a kind of mini "God's-eye view", allowing him to sense the court with uncanny clarity.
That wide-angle awareness is what let him anticipate the pass, even from behind.
On the sidelines, Coach Taoka shot up from the bench, stunned.
What he just witnessed defied normal understanding.
He had heard rumors—whispers passed down among coaches—about players like this. Players who didn't just see the game, but felt it. Players whose court sense was so sharp, they could predict passes and movements without relying on sight alone.
Alex's perception wasn't quite that advanced… yet. But it was far beyond average. And it left Taoka speechless.
Since the day he first picked up a basketball, Taoka had never encountered someone with that kind of intuitive feel.
This level of talent wouldn't win games by itself—but it could change them.
And for Taoka Moichi, having a player like Alex on the team was more than luck.
It was a sign.
"Maybe..." he thought, a flicker of hope in his chest,"Maybe he really can be the next Sendoh."
He slowly unclenched his fists, calming the storm of excitement inside him, and sat back down—eyes still locked on Alex.