Extra Basket-Chapter 142 - 129: Loan Shark (5)

The tip‑off felt like the first breath before a storm. Under the bright arena lights, both teams circled the circle, anticipation electric in the air. The announcer’s voice faded into the background as the players locked eyes, each heartbeat a drumbeat in the silent moment before the clash.

"Here we go," I murmured, standing beside the court. My clipboard had been set aside now wasn’t the time for diagrams. It was time for action.

Vorpal Basket’s starters took their places:

#11 Ryan Taylor – Power Forward, crouched low, muscles coiled.

#10 Lucas Graves – Shooting Guard, calm yet hungry.

#8 Josh Turner – Small Forward, agile and watchful.

#15 Brandon Young – Center, a solid presence.

#9 Evan Cooper – Point Guard, focused, ball in hand.

Across the line stood the Blazing Fox roster:

Leonel Blaze – Point Guard, the Maestro, eyes glowing with strategic fire.

Jace Holloway – Shooting Guard, the Phantom Shooter, relaxed but lethal.

Malik "Titan" Reed – Small Forward, built like a tank.

Noah Vance – Power Forward, stoic, calculating.

DeShawn Briggs – Center, a giant shadow looming over the paint.

The referee tossed the ball high. Ryan leapt and tapped it, it spun forward. Evan swooped in.

"Tip’s ours," Ryan said quietly as Evan grabbed control.

"Lock in," I mouthed. Every player shifted into defensive mode.

Evan dribbled between his legs, a signal. Ryan slid toward the elbow. Lucas took wing position, his feet whispering against the floor. Brandon angled himself on the block.

On the Blazing Fox side, Leonel started the offense—his feet were still, his mind already in motion. Jace leaned one-way, baiting defenders. Titan eyes the left lane. Noah squared his shoulders at the high post. DeShawn towered at the rim.

"Watch their setup," I reminded my team.

Evan called the play. He ran a series: Evan to Ryan, quick swing to Lucas. The ball zipped left, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Leonel how he shifted his weight in sync with each pass.

(He’s not just watching. He’s predicting.)

Klaw. Lucas squared up for the catch.

"We swing back!" Lucas commanded. He passed to Josh, who jab‑stepped into the top of the key.

Across from Josh, Jace slid—instant recognition. (Their shooter reads body language like X‑ray.)

Evan drifted to the wing, giving options. Ryan set a screen on Titan, and Josh drove hard off the pick pivot‑step, shoulder lean but Leonel anticipated.

The moment the drive started, Titan slammed his shoulder into Josh’s chest. "No easy lane," Titan growled. Josh stumbled, stepped back.

Evan sensed the collapse and flung a no‑look bullet to Brandon.

"On you," I said under my breath.

Brandon caught and pivoted. DeShawn burst forward, arms raised. Briggs walls the paint.

Brandon powered forward, spun—he almost got past DeShawn, but the big man rose like a wall and blocked the shot. The ball rattled out; I saw Noah and Titan collapse beneath the rim. Titan outmuscles Ryan, grabs the board.

"Push!" I shouted.

Titan emerged with brute dribble. He slithered around Ryan toward the free‑throw line.

(Titan’s strength... but Ryan’s endurance holds.)

Ryan mirrored his path, stance low. Titan paused, eyes scanning. He nodded at Leonel, who sprinted to the wing.

Jace faked center, then streaked to the corner.

Evan tracked Jace; I watched for that step‑back. When Titan tossed it out to Leonel, Jace was open but Christians drilled, and Jace caught, rose.

(Phantom Shooter’s move...)

Jace’s step‑back arc—swish—the shot split the defense. The crowd gasped.

"4–0 Blazing," the announcer boomed.

I clenched my jaw. (Not panic. Instead: reset.)

Ryan jogged back on defense. "Reset!" I barked. "Switch to drop zone on their shooters."

At half court, I gathered my starters: Lucas tightened his grip. Josh took a deep breath. Brandon flexed his wrists. Evan’s eyes met mine.

"We adapt. They scored with flow—I want disruption."

(Let’s slow them down... turn their tempo into ours.)

Evan nodded. "We go Sprawl‑Chaos—pressure in the arc, deny space."

I could see Brandon shift his weight. He was ready.

"Finish this quarter strong," Lucas said, more to himself than to the others.

They nodded.

Back on court

Leonel brought up again, calm energy. He motioned to Titan and Noah rolled high.

Evan stepped out, contesting the pass lanes. Lucas slid to Jace’s hip. Ryan glared at Titan, stance sharp. Brandon positioned on DeShawn’s chest.

The Vultures’ offense halted—they had to pick a setting. Titan hammered inside, but Ryan held his ground. DeShawn spun around Brandon but Brandon didn’t bite stayed balanced.

Evan jumped in front of a Leonel bounce. He denied the drive. "Switch!" I called out.

Lucas slid onto Leonel. He angled his body to block the path but gave just enough space to bait the dribble.

Leonel jabbed left cut in.

(Here comes my Zone Vision...)

Leonel’s step slowed. Time...and almost...stretched. Evan lunged for a steal but missed. Leonel hit the first half-court cross. He paused. He eyed the split.

(Now.) I thought.

Evan collapsed to help.

Leonel sensed it. He flung an alley‑oop pass to Titan cutting. Titan caught mid-drift—crash.

Slamm, the rim rattled. The place erupted.

"6–0."

I wiped sweat running through my hair. (Two plays in—it’s already this high-intensity.)

Lucas jogged back with the others. "Keep calm," he said. "Our time’s coming."

I nodded. My mind ticked through adjustments. My team looked to me. I exhaled.

"They hit with Blitz‑Ball fast lanes off Ivy dribble. We slow their spacing. We bait them into half‑court. Use our press and stay sharp. Understood?"

They nodded resilient eyes. We had a plan.

....

Bench breath:

Aiden, Coonie, Kai, and Ayumi watched from the sideline, hearts pounding.

Aiden whispered: "We can’t let them run."

Coonie shook his head: "That alley‑oop tore us, man."

Kai clenched both fists: "We’ll adjust."

Ayumi bit her lip, concern warring with pride.

The game continued, each team feeding off the other’s fuel. The scoreboard, the clock, the constant shift of momentum, everything felt alive.

In that cauldron of roar and footsteps, we took breath and moved forward.

..

Lucas POV

"6–0."

I looked up at the scoreboard.

Still the first quarter. 7:03 left. Plenty of time. But if we let them control the rhythm any longer... it’s going to spiral.

I turned and jogged back on offense, sweat already gathering under my chin. The court felt heavier now. Not just because of the Blazing Fox’s pressure — but because of what was at stake.

Jeremy’s debt. Ethan’s promise. My pride.

Brandon passed the ball in to Evan. He called out a set, but Leonel was already moving — reading, stalking.

That dude doesn’t play like a high schooler... he plays like he’s been doing this for a decade.

Jace shadowed me. Smooth. Relaxed. Arrogant.

(He doesn’t respect me yet. Good. That’s when I’m most dangerous.)

I curled off Ryan’s screen and sprinted toward the arc. Evan faked a handoff, then passed to Josh. Josh jabbed, pulled the defender, and flung it back to me.

I caught it. Instinct kicked in.

Dribble. Plant. Rise.

My form felt clean elbow tight, wrist snapping.

But in a blur, Jace appeared. His hand brushed the arc of my shot.

"Tch."

The ball rimmed out, kissed iron, and bounced.

Titan snagged the rebound like it was nothing and whipped it to Leonel.

Damn. I backpedaled. (I rushed it. He baited me into a fast shot. Gotta slow it down.)

They brought it up again.

Leonel dribbled like he owned the world. Calm. Sharp. Dangerous. I hated how smooth he looked. The crowd watched him like he was already famous.

He swung to Jace, who pulled up and didn’t even glance at me.

Net. Three more.

"9–0."

I clenched my jaw. (We haven’t even scored once. We’re letting them showboat.)

We gathered around near half-court; Evan slowed the ball down.

Ethan stood on the sideline; hands cupped around his mouth.

"Run Double Reverse Ghost!"

Evan nodded.

That was a play we barely practiced. A weird, misdirection-heavy set Ethan created last week. But this was the kind of chaos we needed.

Josh cut hard baseline. I followed, crossing behind him. Ryan and Brandon crisscrossed up top, two hard screens.

I slipped under Brandon’s shoulder, popped out top key. Evan hit me — and this time, Jace was a step too slow.

I rose again.

"Get in," I whispered.

Swish.

First blood.

The bench clapped. Ayumi stood, hand over her heart. I saw her eyes, they glowed with something proud.

"9–3," Evan called out as we set our defense.

(That’s it. We just need rhythm. We don’t need to panic. We just need to fight.)

I glanced toward Ethan, who was scribbling something on his clipboard.

Always thinking. Always watching. And somehow... everyone listens to him.

...

Blazing Fox inbounded. Leonel walked it up again.

He looked over and locked eyes with me, just for a second.

There wasn’t hate in his stare.

There was boredom.

Like he didn’t think I was worth remembering.

(Fine then. Keep thinking that.)

He passed to Jace, who was curling wide again. But Josh was there this time. Chest out. Feet ready.

"Hands up!" Brandon barked from the post.

Titan cut across the paint, but Ryan stayed in his hip. Evan dropped to help.

They didn’t get a clean shot.

Leonel passed it back out, they reset.

Shot clock ticked to 7.

He tried to drive on Evan but Evan poked it!

Loose ball!

I dove, slapped it toward Josh. Josh scooped it up and took off.

Fast break. Let’s go.

Jace chased but Josh was too fast. One dribble. Euro step.

Layup. Clean.

"9–5."

Now it was their bench getting quiet.

As I jogged back, exhaling hard.

(They’re human. They bleed.)

As we reset, I looked at Ethan.

He didn’t say anything. Just nodded.

That was enough.

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We still had time.

And we weren’t done yet.

..

Meanwhile...

Leonel Blaze dribbled the ball slowly past half court, eyes scanning the defense — but his mind was elsewhere.

(Lucas Graves...)

He remembered the look on the kid’s face after that last three.

Not fear. Not frustration.

Fire.

That same stubborn fire Leonel had seen in only a few players before — players who refused to let the scoreboard define them. Players who got better the more you tried to shut them down.

He had seen Lucas’s highlights before.

That viral clip. The underdog team. The win.

Back then, Leonel didn’t care.

But now?

Now, he could feel it.

(He’s not just playing to win. He’s playing like his lives on the line.)

Leonel’s eyes narrowed as Lucas slid up to Jace’s hip on defense, never giving him a clean look. Fluid, quick reactions. Hands ready. Eyes focused.

(He’s still raw. Footwork’s not polished. Timing’s a bit off. But he’s learning... every possession.)

He crossed the ball once, twice, then passed off to Titan and began drifting to the weak side.

As he moved, he stole another glance at Lucas.

(You’re not scared of us. That’s rare.)

He thought about what Jace said earlier.

"(That blond kid? Ethan Albarado. And the black-haired one with golden eyes? Lucas Graves.)"

Leonel smirked to himself.

(Lucas Graves, huh? You’re starting to piss me off... in a good way.)

Because it wasn’t just about winning for Leonel.

He wanted to test people. To break them. To see what came out of the cracks.

And Lucas?

Lucas wasn’t cracking.

Not yet.

(Alright. Let’s see how far you go before you do.)

He signaled for an iso. Jace waved off. Malik backed away.

The play wasn’t about scoring this time.

It was about sending a message.

Leonel passed the ball to Titan on the block, then jogged toward the corner, directly in front of Lucas.

He stopped.

Turned.

And stared.

The crowd murmured, sensing tension.

Lucas didn’t flinch.

Leonel smiled, a flicker of something more than amusement in his eyes.

"Show me something, Graves."

(Because if you don’t... I’ll end this game myself.)

To be continue

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