The moment Coach Anderson finished speaking, the Shohoku gym erupted in chatter.
"Wait… is this real? Ryonan actually invited us?"
"No way! They were county quarterfinalists last year. Why would they waste time on a team that can't even make it past round one?"
Disbelief filled the room. Normally, a powerhouse like Ryonan wouldn't even spare Shohoku a glance. If they wanted a scrimmage, they'd pick someone closer to their level. This felt… off.
Cory Grant frowned. Strange. In the original timeline, this never happened. Charles Ackerman and Victor "Tank" Uozumi were supposed to meet for the first time during the county tournament. A pre-tournament friendly? Completely out of place.
Maybe Coach Anderson had declined the offer in the original story. But after Shohoku's fiery performance in their intrasquad match, he had agreed this time.
"Cory," Charles asked in confusion, "why would Ryonan even bother with us?"
"Because Coach Anderson isn't just any coach," Cory explained. "He's a former national team player. He's coached at major universities. Coach Tian of Ryonan likely proposed this out of respect for his reputation."
Charles nodded slowly, but his eyes still carried doubt. "Still… can we even beat Ryonan?"
Cory's eyes narrowed. "Charles—if you're already thinking like that, we can forget about ever realizing our dream."
The words struck deep. Years of defeats at Kitamura had crippled Charles's confidence. Cory knew that, but he couldn't let weakness linger.
"We must believe in ourselves. Ryonan is strong, yes—but not invincible. If we can beat them, it proves we're on track to fulfilling our promise to Mitch Harris."
Charles's mind flashed to the bedside vow he'd made to Mitch. His hesitation burned away, fists clenching tight.
"For Mitch—and for our dream—we'll crush Ryonan!"
For the first time in years, his voice carried conviction. Cory smirked inwardly. Sorry, Uozumi. But Charles is coming for you.
Later that evening, Cory approached Coach Anderson carefully.
"Coach… I heard you once played for the national team?"
Anderson chuckled, waving it off. "Ho ho! That's ancient history. Nothing worth bragging about now." His hearty laugh surprised Cory—not quite as indifferent as his usual mask.
"You must've been incredible back then," Cory said sincerely.
Anderson's eyes narrowed. "Cory Grant… what are you after?"
Cory didn't hesitate. He bowed deeply. "Coach, please. Teach me a move."
The gym stilled. Players stole glances.
Anderson sipped from his thermos, silent for a long moment. Finally, he exhaled and rose from his chair.
"Basketball isn't about a single flashy move. It's about teamwork. Hard work. Dedication. But—since you're so earnest, I'll show you something."
The gym whispered with shock. The rare sight of Anderson actually stepping onto the court.
"Cory, do you know the Eurostep?"
Cory blinked. "I've heard of it."
In his past life he'd seen clips—Manu Ginóbili slicing through defenses, Dwyane Wade weaving, Kyrie Irving side-stepping with ease. But knowing was different from executing.
Anderson picked up the ball, lowering into his stance.
"The Eurostep is a driving move. A sudden side-to-side sway to mislead your defender. They shift their weight—and you pass them by."
He jabbed right, cut left, then lumbered into a layup. His aging body moved slow, almost comical—but the mechanics, the deception, were all there.
Shohoku's players leaned in, riveted.
Cory's system pinged instantly:
[Learnable Skill Detected – Eurostep | Progress: 13%]
Anderson explained as he demonstrated:
"Sink your shoulders—lower gravity stabilizes your knees and increases speed."
"Let the ball follow your torso. Fake with your body, drag the ball naturally into space."
"Snap your feet: one step baits, the next cuts."
He handed Cory the ball. "Now you try. I'll guide."
Cory inhaled, then attempted it. His first motion was clumsy—legs stiff, feet crossing awkwardly.
"Again," Anderson corrected. "Lower. Shoulders down. Let it flow."
Cory adjusted. Step right—sway left—cleaner. His progress bar jumped wildly.
The others tried too, imitating, but only Cory felt the invisible HUD flashing new percentages with every step.
Step after step, his rhythm improved. His sway smoothed, feet quickened.
Half an hour passed.
[Eurostep – 99%]
Anderson's eyes widened. "I've never seen anyone learn this quickly…" For a heartbeat, he almost regretted. If only this kid had the body of a prodigy… the ceiling would've been unimaginable.
But he didn't. To Coach Anderson, limited physical talent set a ceiling no effort could break.
Still, he offered one last tip. "On your first step—land on your toes. Keep the heel up. It makes your cut sharper."
The system's voice chimed crystal clear:
[Congratulations! New Skill Acquired – Eurostep]
Cory's chest heaved, breath sharp. Veins buzzed with energy.
At last—another weapon was his.
And with it… Shohoku's battle with Ryonan had gained a deadly new edge.