Ace of the Bench

The ball hit the floor with a dull thump.

Gasps rippled through the arena.

For a moment, no one moved.

Shunjin stared upward, mouth half open, his fingertips still tingling from where the ball had been snatched out of mid-air.

Itsuki Sera landed lightly, barely a sound from his white Curry 11s. His eyes half-lidded, glowing faintly gold tracked the ball as it bounced once, twice, before he caught it effortlessly.

The faint shimmer of a tower tall, golden-yellow and etched in shifting patterns hovered behind him like an illusion. Its outline flickered, reaching high above the court before fading into mist.

It wasn't just speed.

It was reading.

Itsuki had seen the entire play seconds before it happened.

"No one passes… my perfect defense."

Marcus's jaw clenched.

"Wait… how the hell"

Yuuto's voice broke through the tension.

"Bro… wasn't he on the other side just now!?"

Daichi frowned. "He's the point guard! What's he doing blocking like a center?"

Kento's eyes widened. "He read that before it happened."

Shunjin's eyes narrowed, chest heaving. "And how did he even get that high?"

Itsuki turned slowly, eyes glowing faintly gold under the lights. He met Marcus's gaze and for the first time, Marcus felt a chill.

Marcus muttered, "…What the hell are you?"

Itsuki's expression didn't change. He simply replied, calm and sharp as steel:

"Good try."

Marcus took a breath, heart pounding in disbelief.

"…Good block."

A faint smirk crossed Itsuki's lips. "It won't be my last."

The stands erupted in applause. Cameras zoomed in on Itsuki as the announcer's voice thundered:

"Number 6, Itsuki Sera, with an incredible defensive stop what reflexes!"

Up in the coach's corner, Rin Hazama nodded slightly. His expression didn't change, but his eyes narrowed.

"That boy… he doesn't react. He anticipates. That's my Sera. My perfect defense. The Watchtower sees all."

In the stands "Wait a minute isnt he a point guard." said Ayaka.

"Yes he is" said Kana

"So how and why did he?" Said kana.

"I have no clue" said kana.

"Is that even possible should he even be doing that?" Said Ayaka.

"Anything is possible in basketball." Said Kana

The referee's whistle cut through the tension. "Easton ball!"

Itsuki pass the ball to Sho.

Sho brought the ball up, calm and composed.

His dribble echoed with precision: thump… thump… thump.

Easton Technical didn't waste motion. No flash, no tricks just surgical spacing.

Itsuki called plays with a single gesture. Ajax cut right, Orson looped left, Sho positioned inside, and Mori planted under the rim like a fortress.

"Run formation Delta."

Three passes. One movement. A synchronized breath.

Ajax slipped past Kento, caught a pass, pump-faked

Daichi bit on it

and Ajax stepped through for a smooth layup.

5–0.

Marcus exhaled. "Okay… that's their tempo."

Riku nodded. "Everything's connected."

"Not connected," Marcus muttered. "Programmed."

Marcus called for the inbound. "Let's move! Shunjin, use the screen!"

They set up a double pick play. Shunjin slipped through

and instantly, Itsuki rotated.

The screen collapsed.

Pass denied.

Marcus faked a crossover and went for a mid-range pull-up. Sho's shadow loomed.

Bam blocked.

Sho grabbed the rebound and passed it out instantly.

Orson sprinted downcourt, catching the outlet in stride

one bounce

a sharp step-back three.

Swish.

8–0.

"Already Eight!?" Yuuto shouted.

Shunjin clicked his tongue. "Tch, they're fast in transition."

"They're not fast," Marcus said, jaw tightening. "They're ready."

Possession after possession, Seiryō kept getting suffocated.

Itsuki hovered at the top like a shadow, never overcommitting. He wasn't guarding one player he was guarding the idea of their offense.

Every time Marcus looked up to pass, Itsuki's eyes were already there, scanning, calculating, deleting options.

Kento tried a cut denied.

Riku swung the ball stolen.

Daichi tried to muscle through stripped by Orson.

Coach Hikari Aoyama from Seiryō called out, "Patience! Move the ball!"

But how could they move it when Easton seemed to breathe as one?

Sho dictated the interior, setting impassable screens. Ajax and Orson rotated seamlessly, their defensive traps folding like origami.

And always always Itsuki stood behind it all, orchestrating.

The Watchtower oversees everything.

Timeout: Seiryō, 2:33 left in the first quarter.

Score: 13–0, Easton is leading.

The boys sat on the bench, sweat dripping, lungs burning.

Shunjin slammed his water bottle down. "They're suffocating us, Coach! That point guard he's everywhere!"

Coach Hikari wiped her clipboard clean. "Tell me what you saw."

Marcus leaned forward, towel around his neck. "It's like he's… predicting the future."

"Prediction," Coach said calmly, "comes from information."

Riku frowned. "Information?"

"Watch his eyes," Hikari continued. "He's not watching the ball. He's watching your hips, your feet, your breathing. Every tell, every twitch he records it. That's how a Watchtower sees the whole field."

Marcus tightened his grip on his knees.

So he's not faster. He's smarter.

Marcus Observes

Coach Aoyama looked at them. "If they're a system… then we'll rewrite the rhythm. Change your patterns. Randomize your cuts. Force him to react instead of anticipate."

Marcus nodded. "Let's flip the script."

They broke from the huddle. The crowd roared as both teams returned to the court.

Marcus called out, "Formation 3–Low!"

Riku moved to high post. Daichi cut short, then reversed. Kento faked right, darted left.

Itsuki's eyes flickered he was calculating

then froze.

Marcus smiled.

"Now."

He threw a no-look pass behind his back straight to Shunjin cutting baseline.

Shunjin caught it mid-stride, leaped

and slam!

Finally, a bucket.

The bench erupted.

"Let's go!"

Score: 13–2.

Sho raised an eyebrow. "He's adapting fast."

Itsuki adjusted his wristband, eyes narrowing. "Then so will I."

Easton inbounded again.

Sho dribbled, calling the next set.

Marcus followed Itsuki this time, not the ball. His eyes tracked the way Itsuki's head tilted, how his feet positioned before each movement.

"He's not reacting to me," Marcus realized. "He's reacting to the team's rhythm."

He started seeing it subtle beats in the flow.

Sho's dribble matched Ajax's steps.

Kuga's cuts matched Mori's rotations.

Every breath timed.

Every pass preordained.

Marcus's pulse quickened. So that's how you play.

He smiled faintly. "Then I'll learn your rhythm and break it."

The game turned tactical.

Marcus slowed down the next possession intentionally, walking the ball up.

Sho's eyes narrowed. Itsuki adjusted a step closer.

Marcus whispered, "You're watching me, aren't you?"

Then he shifted speed—bam—crossover, behind the back, quick burst left.

Itsuki moved instantly already there.

Marcus kicked it out to Kento, who fired from the corner.

Swish.

13–5.

The bench cheered again. The rhythm was changing.

Sho passed the ball in, his calm beginning to crack. "Sera."

"I know," Itsuki replied. "He's starting to see."

Itsuki's eyes flared again gold aura shimmering faintly.

He motioned to Sho. "Switch rhythm."

Suddenly Easton's formation morphed. Players cut in diagonal patterns, swapping positions mid-possession. The ball moved faster than words could follow one, two, three, four

and ended in an alley-oop to Ajax.

15–5

The crowd roared.

Marcus bit his lip. "Damn… they can switch rhythm mid-game."

Sho's voice echoed softly as he jogged back, "That's what a balanced team looks like."

By the first quarter was up, the scoreboard glared: 30–10, Easton.

The locker room air was thick. No one spoke for a full minute.

Shunjin punched his thigh. "We can't even breathe out there!"

Kento muttered, "That Itsuki guy's in my head. Every move I make, he's already there."

Marcus leaned back, staring at the ceiling. His mind wasn't angry it was calculating.

Coach Hikari stepped in, clipboard in hand. "You're not outmatched. You're out of rhythm."

Riku frowned. "Coach, what do you mean?"

She smiled faintly. "Easton's system moves like a clock. Itsuki's the second handtracking everyone's time. You need to stop chasing theirs and make them chase yours."

Marcus sat up slowly.

"Our rhythm… huh?"

Marcus closed his eyes for a moment. The sound of the crowd outside faded away.

He remembered Coach Hikari's words from the start of camp: "Leadership isn't about control it's about timing. Feel your team's heartbeat."

Heartbeat.

Pulse.

Tempo.

He inhaled deeply, then opened his eyes sharp, focused, burning.

A faint blue spark flickered behind his pupils.

"Then let's set the pace."

Second Half Begins

Whistle.

Possession: Seiryō.

Marcus dribbled forward smooth, slower, in rhythm. His steps matched Riku's movements, Kento's shifts, Shunjin's spacing.

He wasn't watching Itsuki anymore.

He was feeling his own team.

Itsuki's golden eyes tracked him, but something felt… off.

Marcus's rhythm wasn't predictable anymore it flowed.

"Switch defense!" Sho barked.

But before Easton could adapt, Marcus slipped through two screens and lobbed a pass to Riku slam

30 –12.

The spark grew brighter.

For the next five minutes, the court became a storm of shifting tempos.

Easton's machine precision met Seiryō's fiery improvisation.

Itsuki's Watchtower scanned every angle, predicting screens, intercepting passing lanes, trapping ball handlers. His aura loomed like a guardian spirit.

But Marcus was changing. His eyes gleamed faintly blue, reading energy instead of movement. He felt his teammates' momentum like a heartbeat.

A duel of perspectives Vision vs. Instinct.