Ueno stared at Yagami Osaka and prepared to attack again.
He lowered his center of gravity and dribbled slowly, the ball tapping rhythmically against the floor. His right foot slid forward, his body swaying slightly, and then—without warning—he burst toward Osaka's left side once more.
Osaka reacted almost identically to before. His left foot stepped laterally, cutting off the lane, while his left arm swept down toward the ball in Ueno's hand, forming a massive wall of defense.
But the moment Osaka shifted, Ueno changed.
With a smooth hanging motion, he pulled the ball back, dragging it behind his body. The basketball snapped from his right hand to his left in one fluid movement, and his body followed, sharply pulling back.
The instant Osaka's right side opened, Ueno didn't hesitate. He exploded forward.
Osaka's left foot had only just landed. Fooled by the feint, he was clearly a step behind.
Yet in the next second, the spectators' expressions changed.
Osaka didn't turn to chase from the right—the natural choice for most people. Instead, he pivoted hard from the left and surged forward, directly pursuing Ueno.
And his speed was frightening.
In just a breath, he was already closing in.
Feeling the pressure pressing tightly against his back, Ueno's eyes sharpened. He forced another burst of speed, tore open a narrow gap, then slammed to a sudden stop and rose straight into a pull-up jumper.
At that exact moment, Osaka's foot crashed down on the court.
Despite the distance—nearly two full body-lengths—he still jumped.
His right arm shot upward, fingers stretching toward the ball.
Ueno released the shot first.
But in his widened eyes, Osaka's fingertips brushed the ball midair.
The basketball spun through the air in a crooked arc.
Bang!
It struck the backboard—and then dropped cleanly through the net.
Cheers exploded across the court.
"Nice shot!"
"That was insane!"
"As expected of Ueno!"
To everyone watching, facing a defender as tall as Yagami Osaka would've been suffocating. Yet Ueno not only withstood the pressure—he scored.
Excitement surged through the team.
Ueno truly was Tōdai's ace.
Only Ueno himself didn't smile.
His gaze drifted to Osaka, who was standing there staring blankly at his own fingertips. Ueno's expression slowly tightened.
That shot hadn't been a planned bank.
The ball bouncing off the backboard and falling in was pure chance.
From the sidelines, Kyōichi and the others hadn't seen Osaka touch the ball. They assumed Ueno had calculated the angle perfectly.
But Ueno knew better.
The trajectory had been changed.
That basket had gone in on luck alone.
Ueno bent down, picked up the ball, and tossed it to Osaka. He spread his arms, lowered his stance, and fixed his eyes firmly on him.
Osaka caught the ball with one hand. He glanced again at his fingertips and murmured quietly,
"…Just a little more."
On the sidelines, Kyōichi watched the two and spoke after a moment,"Ueno probably can't stop him this time, right?"
They trusted Ueno's offense completely. But defensively, Osaka's sheer physical advantage was undeniable.
Shin didn't answer. His eyes were distant, replaying Osaka's recovery in his mind.
If it were him… would he have reacted the same way?
Most players, once beaten by a feint, instinctively turn toward the direction of the drive. That half-second of hesitation alone was enough to lose an entire body-length.
But Osaka hadn't hesitated.
He pivoted instantly from the left and chased, eliminating the delay entirely—almost cutting off Ueno before the shot.
If Ueno hadn't been so fast, the outcome might've been different.
The more Shin thought about it, the more unsettled he became.
Osaka's reaction speed and decisiveness were abnormal.
Nearby, Miyara and the others were just as shaken.
That left-side pivot had completely defied instinct.
Kimura Ri took a deep breath, suppressing his shock, and spoke quietly to Miyaraichi.
"Arā… that recovery just now…"
Miyara nodded slowly, his brow furrowing.
"…It was incredible."
If it were him, he would've chased from the right.
That was human instinct.
Most people naturally turned right when pivoting—unless they were left-handed.
Miyara's gaze lingered on Osaka as he spoke in a low voice.
"If he isn't left-handed… then he's a defensive genius."
On the edge of the court, Kurumatani Sora watched the duel with sparkling eyes.
Both Ueno's offense and Osaka's defense had set his blood boiling.
Back on the court, Osaka began dribbling toward Ueno again.
Ueno's eyes narrowed.
He didn't know how good Osaka's shooting was—but he couldn't allow an uncontested shot.
With the formless shot added to his arsenal, Ueno's offensive power had reached another level entirely. Defense, however, still relied mostly on instinct and speed.
Offensively, he stood at the top.
Defensively, he was still catching up.
Osaka advanced cautiously, his left arm held across his chest while his right hand dribbled the ball with care.
The spectators stiffened.
"…Huh?"
"Can he even dribble?"
"What is he doing?"
Osaka's movements were clumsy—almost painfully basic.
Yet to Ueno, it was obvious.
This was the safest way for Osaka to play.
With his height and wingspan, stealing the ball from him wouldn't be easy. At the same time, dribbling like this left him vulnerable to mistakes.
And then—
It happened.
Osaka dribbled once.
Twice.
The ball struck his own foot.
It rolled straight to Ueno's feet.
Osaka remained frozen in place, still holding his dribbling stance, staring blankly at the runaway ball.
Silence swallowed the court.
After a long second, Kyōichi spoke slowly,
"…I take it back. On defense, Ueno wins."