Kogure took one dribble, testing Godai’s positioning.
Then he attacked.
Between-the-legs dribble—left to right, the ball whipping through the triangle of space.
Godai shuffled his feet, trying to mirror the movement, but Kogure was already flowing into the crossover step.
Plant.
Shift.
Cross.
Explode.
LV3 execution.
Godai’s weight shifted wrong, just for a heartbeat, but it was enough.
Kogure burst past him, baseline drive, too much separation to recover.
Kimura rotated over from the paint.
Kogure sold the pass to Matsui with his eyes—Kimura bit, stepping toward the anticipated lob.
Instead, Kogure gathered and laid it in off the glass.
Soft touch.
Easy finish.
“Nice move, Kogure!” The manager clapped enthusiastically.
“I didn’t know you had that in your arsenal!”
Kogure jogged back, fighting a smile.
Three years of being overlooked as the “hardworking but limited” player, and now—
Godai stood at the top of the key, staring at his hands like they’d betrayed him.
That wasn’t a fluke, his expression said.
He really just…
The confidence that had carried Godai through their Kitamura years was cracking.
They’d been teammates two months ago.
Same skill level, same limitations, both grinding away with minimal results.
Now Kogure was crossing him up like it was nothing.
We were supposed to struggle together, Godai’s face seemed to say.
When did you leave me behind?
The mental shake affected his game immediately.
His defensive stance got sloppy, his rotations late, his focus scattered.
When Kogure attacked again—same crossover, same result—Godai barely contested.
Kogure kept attacking.
With Godai mentally checked out and Kimura neutralized by Matsui’s size, the defensive scheme collapsed.
The manager found space for his pull-up jumper.
Matsui dominated the paint through pure physicality.
The first game ended quickly.
Tsukubu rotated in their second squad—slightly weaker overall, but fresher legs.
This time the margin was razor-thin.
Matsui’s conditioning had evaporated after years away from competitive play.
By the fourth possession, he was breathing hard, his rotations a half-step slow.
Age and 200+ pounds didn’t care about past glory.
They still won, but barely.
The third game featured Matsushita’s rested squad.
This time, Matsui had nothing left.
He played defense standing up, unable to chase, relying purely on positioning.
On offense, he could barely jump.
Tsukubu won going away.
By 2:30 PM, Matsushita checked his watch and called it.
“We need to get back for club activities.
Thanks for the games, seniors!”
“No problem.” The manager was still breathing easily, clearly in better shape than Matsui.
“Good playing with you.”
Before leaving, Godai turned back, his jaw set with new determination.
“Kogure!” His voice carried across the court.
“I’m doubling my training when I get back.
Next time we meet, I won’t lose like this!”
Defeat hadn’t broken him—it had lit a fire.
Kogure grinned.
“Looking forward to it.”
That was the spirit that would eventually turn Godai into an excellent three-point specialist.
Natural talent mattered, but so did refusing to quit.
“Haven’t played basketball that hard in years,” he finally managed, wiping sweat from his face.
“Forgot how good it feels.”
“Made me feel young again,” the manager agreed, looking remarkably fresh despite the sustained effort.
“We should do this more often.”
Kogure checked his system.
[Pull-Up Jump Shot: Learning Progress 27%]
Just from watching and playing against it.
The system’s learning mechanism was efficient—observation got him to 27%, but he’d need direct instruction and practice to finish.
“Alright, Kogure.” The manager grabbed the basketball.
“Let me teach you the pull-up jumper.
Watch carefully—I’ll go slow first.”
Relief flooded through Kogure.
He’d worried the manager might forget or lose interest.
The manager started from the three-point line, moving at half-speed toward the corner.
At the short corner, he planted hard—feet rooted like he’d grown from the concrete—then exploded upward.
His release was smooth, the ball arcing beautifully into the basket.
[Pull-Up Jump Shot: Learning Progress 40%]
The slowed demonstration let Kogure process details he’d missed during live action: the heel-to-toe stopping sequence, the immediate transition to the jump, the way the manager’s shooting motion started before he reached full height.
“Let me break down the mechanics,” the manager said, moving through the motion in segments.
“First: footwork.
Bend your knees while moving—you need to be loaded to stop quickly.
Otherwise you’ll either blow past your spot or travel.”
He demonstrated the stopping sequence.
“Heels hit first to start the deceleration, then the forefoot plants to complete the stop.
The force transfers through your calves, knees, and thighs in sequence.
It’s a full-chain movement.”
[Pull-Up Jump Shot: Learning Progress 50%]
The manager shot again, this time calling out each phase.
“Approach speed.
Plant—heels then forefoot.
Load.
Explode into the jump.
Shoot on the way up, not at the peak.
Release follows through.”
[Pull-Up Jump Shot: Learning Progress 63%]
Pure instruction was invaluable.
Theory combined with demonstration let Kogure’s system absorb the skill structure rapidly.
“That’s the foundation.
Now let’s see you try it.”
The manager tossed Kogure the ball and backed off.
“Run toward the basket.
I’ll pass when you’re at speed.”
Kogure jogged toward the hoop.
The pass came chest-high, slightly ahead—he caught it on the move, took one more step to get into position, then planted.
SCREECH.
His shoes grabbed concrete.
His body lurched—too much forward momentum, balance wavering.
He jumped anyway, released the shot while falling slightly backward.
CLANG.
The ball hammered off the backboard, rim-out by a mile.
“Too much force on the stop,” the manager called.
“You’re trying to freeze too fast.
It’s a controlled deceleration, not a car crash.
Let your body absorb the momentum through the kinetic chain—calves, knees, thighs, core.
And when you shoot, soft push from the legs, light wrist action, gentle finger flick.
Coordinate the whole body.”
[Pull-Up Jump Shot: Learning Progress 65%]
Kogure reset and ran it again.
This time he eased into the stop—still aggressive, but controlled.
The balance felt better.
His shot was less forced.
Clank.
Front rim, bounced out.
“Better!” the manager encouraged.
“Rhythm’s improving. This chapter was taken from novelping.com without permission.
Keep your shooting form the same as your set shot—don’t change mechanics just because you’re moving.
The stop creates the space, the shot is still the shot.”
[Pull-Up Jump Shot: Learning Progress 68%]
Again.
And again.
And again.
The sun beat down mercilessly.
Sweat poured off Kogure’s face, soaked his shirt, dripped onto the concrete.
His legs burned from the repeated explosive stops.
His shooting arm ached from the volume.
But each rep felt cleaner.
The stop became more natural.
The transition to the jump smoothed out.
His release timing improved.
Swish.
The first make.
Swish.
The second.
Swish.
Swish.
Swish.
Five in a row.
The pull-up jump shot—catching the ball on the move, stopping, shooting—clicked into place.
[Pull-Up Jump Shot: Learning Progress 87%]
“Excellent!” The manager looked genuinely impressed.
“You picked that up fast.
Most players need weeks to get comfortable with the catch-and-shoot version.
Now let’s work on the harder one: pull-up off the dribble.”
Dribbling added complexity—you had to gather the ball, transfer it from dribble position to shooting position, all while stopping and maintaining balance.
“I’ll play light defense,” the manager offered.
“Give you some pressure but not enough to disrupt the learning.”
Kogure started from the top of the key, ball in hand.
One dribble to build momentum.
The manager shuffled with him, hands active but not aggressive.
Kogure hit his crossover—the manager bit slightly, creating separation.
Kogure planted for the pull-up.
THUD.
The ball caught the front rim and died.
“Drop the ball lower when you gather!” the manager called.
“Right now you’re bringing it up too high, which slows your jump.
Low gather, quick transition.”
[Pull-Up Jump Shot: Learning Progress 89%]
Kogure nodded, breathing hard.
The dribble version required different timing, everything had to be more compact, more explosive.
He tried again.
Crossover, gather—lower this time—plant, jump, shoot.
Swish.
“There it is!” The manager grinned.
They worked the pattern repeatedly.
Attack, crossover, pull-up.
The manager gave him different defensive looks—playing off, playing tight, recovering from different angles.
Each variation taught Kogure something new about creating the necessary space.
The clock in Kogure’s peripheral vision read 2:50 PM.
His legs were rubber.
His shooting arm trembled with fatigue.
But the progress bar kept climbing.
One more rep.
Crossover left, plant on the inside foot, elevate, release.
Swish.
[Pull-Up Jump Shot: Skill learned!
Integration complete.]
The notification echoed through his mind just as the clock struck 3:00 PM.
Time to head to Shohoku for official practice.