Vorpal Basket – 31 | Forest Basket – 30
The buzzer echoed into silence.
Aiden White sprang to his feet, launching his towel skyward like a flare.
Kai Mendoza jumped and roared, fist punching the air.
Coonie Smith slapped Jeremy’s shoulder so hard it echoed louder than the buzzer.
Jeremy just laughed, unbothered, eyes wild with joy as he shouted into the storm of cheers.
Louie Gee Davas didn’t move.
He leaned back in his chair, arms spread along the backrest, the same way a lion leans into the sun after a good hunt.
His head tilted slightly toward the court.
"Show off..." he muttered with a grin, the words a mix of annoyance and pride.
Then, louder, chest rising:
"Alright then, Lucas... my turn now."
Lucas jogged past, breath heavy, sweat trailing from his chin.
He turned his head at the sound.
"Yeah. It’s your turn."
Lucas said it like a promise.
Like a baton passed between wolves.
And the second quarter?
It was already on fire.
Ayumi clapped her clipboard shut.
The echo of it was sharp. Final.
Her heart thudded like a kick drum in her chest.
(Let’s go... Second quarter. Keep the rhythm alive.)
She didn’t shout. She didn’t cheer. But the fire in her eyes — it said everything.
Lucas turned toward the bench. His chest still rising and falling, but his voice? Steady.
"Louie, you’re in. Aiden, stay loose. Kai, warm up. Second quarter’s ours to command!"
He cracked his knuckles like a villain entering the ring, the grin spreading wide across his face.
"Time to light the forest on fire."
The bench boys responded instantly.
Kai stretched his arms with a sly grin, nodding to himself.
They didn’t need a huddle. They didn’t need a speech.
Because Ethan may not be on the court...
This was still Vorpal Ball.
It hadn’t skipped a beat.
Five hungry wolves stepping into the storm.
Lucas jogged toward the sideline, sweat streaking down his temple. As he passed Louie, he offered a single nod — quiet, respectful.
Louie didn’t return it.
Wild. Cocky. Untamed.
(Let me show ’em what real street looks like.)
Across the court, Forest Basket’s starting five trudged back in.
But they weren’t the same anymore.
Micah’s jersey clung to his frame, damp and wrinkled.
Kael’s eyes darted to the scoreboard — 31–30 — like it was closing in on him.
Elijah stood at the point, tall and proud, but his breaths were longer now. His shoulders? Heavier.
The ref blew his whistle.
Elijah took the inbound, crossing half-court.
But the air was... different.
Louie crouched near the arc. Arms loose. Body swaying. Eyes locked.
A smirk tugged at his lips.
(Come on... make a move. I dare you.)
Micah curled around the top of the key—
Coonie slammed into his path like a freight train.
Kael tried to slip baseline—
But Jeremy was glued to him. Step for step. Like a second skin.
A window opened. Midrange.
He stepped in—quick, decisive.
A blur of fingers struck the ball clean out of his hands.
Louie’s voice cut through the gym like a dagger.
He didn’t just steal it —
He stole it mid-step, mid-breath, mid-thought.
Palming the ball one-handed, Louie twisted midair, grinning at the stunned Forest lineup.
The gym roared to life.
Even Ayumi couldn’t hide her grin.
Back to The day before.
Just the echo of sneakers on hardwood.
Just the sound of breath, sharp and tired.
The starters were gone — prepping plays with Coach Fred
Only the bench remained.
Sweat slicked their backs.
Blisters painted their palms.
And yet — they stayed.
Ayumi stood at half-court, arms crossed, watching. A clipboard dangled at her side, untouched.
Lucas walked past her slowly, gaze dragging across the group.
Louie was dribbling on the sideline, headphones in, lost in his rhythm.
The others? Panting. Shaky. Hesitating between sprints and shots.
Lucas clicked his tongue.
"From the looks of this... aside from Louie, all of you can’t handle the monsters we’re about to play against."
Coonie stood, jaw tight, breath heavy. He looked down at his calloused hands. Skin split at the base of his fingers. The cost of catching every rebound Ethan had drilled at him the past week.
"I know..." he muttered. "Then what should we do, huh?"
Lucas didn’t look away.
He stepped forward, voice lower now. Sharper.
"Remember what Ethan said."
He let the words hang.
No one spoke. But in every head, the words echoed.
"But it means nothing without purpose."
"If you’re going to ride the bench, then ride it like a bomb waiting to go off."
Lucas finally turned to face Ayumi.
She gave a subtle nod.
"You’re not gonna become monsters overnight," Lucas said, walking down the line of tired bodies. "But you can become matchbreakers."
Jeremy clenched his fists.
Aiden wiped his forehead, eyes burning.
Coonie slowly straightened.
Lucas looked each one of them in the eye.
"Play like you’re not invited."
"Play like you’ve got something to prove."
"And when the buzzer rings — break them."
"Ayumi. Let’s teach them what Ethan teach me"
She dropped the clipboard.
And training began again.
Louie tore down the left lane.
Aiden sprinted down the right.
Kai crashed through the middle like a bullet train.
He bounced the ball between his legs, then spun mid-stride —
two defenders flinched like they saw ghosts.
Ayumi shot up from the bench, screaming.
Dropped his clipboard.
Kai raised both fists, yelling:
Jeremy and Coonie slapped hands as they ran back on D.
Louie turned toward Forest Basket’s bench.
"You thought I was a benchwarmer?"
Back on Forest’s side, Elijah bit his lip.
(This guy... he’s pure chaos.)
He looked toward Coach Nguyen.
He simply raised a hand.
He wasn’t even close to done.
Next Forest possession?
He didn’t just break ankles—
🎙️ Commentator Jamie (voice rising):
"AND HERE WE GO! Back again — the prodigy streetballer Louie Davas! He’s showing off his skills like it’s Harlem out here!"
🎙️ Color Analyst Coach Doyle (in awe):
"This kid... he’s not just better. He’s a beast now. Someone call the fire department, ’cause he’s torching ’em alive!"
Ayumi watched from the sideline, hand clutched over her heart.
(Ethan... look what you started.)