Extra Basket-Chapter 156 - 143: Loan Shark (19)

Score: 103–103

Time Remaining: 0:34 seconds

Final Possession — Vorpal Basket’s Ball

The crowd was no longer just loud — it was shaking.

Like the arena had been lifted off the earth, floating on pure tension.

Every single person was on their feet.

Hands over mouths. Eyes wide. Breaths held.

And on the court...

Ethan Albarado walked to the sideline like a soldier stepping onto the battlefield. Sweat poured down his temples, but his expression was calm — too calm — the eye of the storm.

Across from him, Leonel Blaze stood at half court, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his wrist. Still smiling. Still watching.

(He’s not going to call a timeout.)

(He wants me to choose the end.)

The referee handed Ethan the ball.

"34 seconds left," the official muttered. "Clock starts on inbound."

Ethan nodded once.

Then turned to his team.

Sweat. Focus. Fire.

Louie: flexing his fists, teeth bared, nodding.

Lucas: silent, breathing sharp, eyes locked on Ethan.

Brandon: slapping his chest once, then pointing at the rim.

Evan: spinning the hem of his jersey once, breathing out through his nose.

And Ethan?

He didn’t give a speech.

He just whispered:

"Last symphony."

"We don’t force it."

"We feel it."

"Trust the rhythm we created."

Everyone nodded.

Inbound.

Evan passed it to Ethan.

Clock: 33 seconds

Dribble. Step. Breath.

Ethan brought it past half court.

Leonel didn’t move.

He didn’t need to.

He was reading it waiting for it like a tiger crouched at the edge of tall grass.

Ethan’s dribble slowed.

He scanned the floor.

The defense? Tight. Adaptive. Still in that fluid triangle-and-two — but it had mutated into something sharper. Like it had grown fangs.

Noah hedged every passing lane. Malik stood ready at the weak side. Jace twitched with every step.

(No holes... unless we make one.)

He motioned.

Lucas moved.

Brandon ghost screened.

Louie slipped baseline vanished from vision.

Evan ran a decoy loop across the arc.

The court swirled like a dance. A trap. A storm.

Ethan never stopped moving.

He dribbled left.

Leonel mirrored him, step-for-step.

"You’re going to try and swing it to Lucas," Leonel said, voice low.

"That’s what you want me to think," Ethan replied.

And then —

The shift.

20 seconds.

Lucas sprinted around a double-screen. Malik chased. Jace switched.

Ethan faked the pass.

Leonel jumped the lane.

WRONG.

Ethan spun the opposite way.

Sudden burst of speed.

Crossed back dribbled low split the triangle.

Explosion of movement.

"ETHAN’S DRIVING!!"

The arena gasped.

Leonel chased but too wide.

Noah slid over shot-blocking angle perfect.

Ethan rose. Left foot forward, right hand extended.

(NOW.)

But he didn’t shoot.

He twisted.

Dropped a bounce pass perfect timing.

LOUIE appeared ghosted in like a wraith behind Noah.

Caught it mid-sprint didn’t even dribble.

JUMPED.

FLOATED.

TWO HAND SLAM.

BOOM.

105–103.

8.6 seconds left.

The arena was chaos.

AYUMI: "THAT’S IT!!"

Aidan: "LOUIE!!"

RYAN: "WE’RE UP!!"

Coonie: "DEFENSE! DEFENSE!"

Kai:"GUYZ!!!!"

But Ethan wasn’t celebrating.

He was already turning.

8.6 seconds. Blazing Fox’s final chance.

No timeout.

Leonel had the ball in his hands by 8.2

And he ran.

Full speed.

Like a meteor made of flesh and fury.

Louie turned.

Lucas rotated.

Brandon reached out.

Evan yelled: "STAY IN FRONT!!"

But Leonel didn’t just run.

He danced.

Double crossover. Spin. Stutter. Step-back. Re-attack.

Like he’d abandoned physics and decided to write a new law for basketball.

Ethan was there trying to read trying to keep up.

But it wasn’t patterns anymore.

It was chaos. Improvised chaos.

3 seconds.

Leonel stopped.

Pumped.

Brandon jumped.

Leonel ducked.

2 seconds.

No pass.

No dish.

He rose mid-fadeaway off one leg.

A one-legged, double-contorted, falling-away jumper from just inside the three.

Ethan’s eyes widened.

(Impossible form. No angle. No balance. No way—)

Release.

Silence.

The ball spun.

Twisting in the air like a silver coin deciding fate.

Crowd: frozen. Breathless.

The buzzer —

BBZZZZZZZZZZZTTTTTT—

The ball kissed the rim.

Once.

Twice.

Then—

ROLLED OUT.

MISSED.

Final Score: 105–103 — VORPAL BASKET WINS.

For one full second, no one moved.

Then—

ROAR.

The stadium exploded with sound.

Coonie leapt onto the bench.

Kai screamed.

Ayumi fell to her knees in shock.

Ryan and Aiden hugged like kids on a playground.

Lucas punched the air.

Brandon collapsed, arms wide.

Evan threw his jersey.

Louie ran to the stands and screamed:

"WE BEAT THEM!! WE BEAT THE BLAZING FOX!!"

And at half-court, in the middle of the chaos...

Ethan Albarado stood.

Hands on his knees.

Sweat dripping from his brow.

Chest rising and falling.

Then—

He looked up.

Leonel Blaze was still standing.

Still staring at the rim.

Still calm.

And then...

He smiled.

Walked over.

Stuck out his hand.

"You read me," Leonel said, quietly. "Not all the way... but enough."

Ethan met his hand.

"You pushed me past my limit."

Leonel nodded.

"Next time... I won’t miss."

Ethan grinned.

"Next time... I won’t need the last shot."

They both laughed, breathless.

And in the background...

The crowd chanted one name:

"VORPAL! VORPAL! VORPAL!"

..

Meanwhile on the audience

The cheers of the arena still thundered like a quake but high in the shadowed bleachers, above all the lights and celebration, two figures remained unmoved.

Big King didn’t clap.

He just stared.

Silent.

Still.

Smoke curled from the cigarette that had burned halfway through but was still gripped between his fingers like a ritual.

Beside him, Jeremy Park sat on the edge of his seat, frozen, eyes still locked on the scoreboard.

105–103.

They’d done it.

Vorpal Basket had won.

Jeremy’s eyes welled up. His fists trembled on his knees.

"I... I knew it," he whispered, voice cracking. "They did it..."

Big King exhaled.

A slow drag. A longer silence.

Then—

He let out a gravel-edged laugh. Dry. Low. Almost amused.

"Well I’ll be damned..."

He stood. Stretched his massive shoulders. Cracked his neck.

"Looks like your debt’s gettin’ paid after all."

He glanced down at the arena at the screaming fans, the celebrating bench, the teammates tackling Ethan at midcourt like he just won a championship.

Then back to Jeremy.

"Five thousand dollars." He said it like it was nothing. Like it was a drop in a well.

"That’s what you owed me, right?"

Jeremy looked up slowly, mouth parting, breath caught in his chest.

Big King smirked. Not kindly.

Not cruelly.

Just... knowingly.

"Guess that friend of yours just bought you freedom with sweat and blood."

"Not bad."

Jeremy blinked fast, lips trembling. He stood, fists balled.

"Does... does that mean it’s over?"

Big King stared at him.

Long.

Hard.

Then he took one final drag of the cigarette... and stubbed it out against the metal bleacher seat.

"Yeah."

"It’s over."

A pause.

Then, stepping past Jeremy, he added with a grunt:

"For now."

Jeremy turned. "Wait—what do you mean—?"

Big King didn’t look back.

He simply walked away, boots echoing down the concrete steps.

And over his shoulder, he muttered:

"You bought yourself time, kid. That’s all this world ever gives you when you win."

"Let’s see if you know what to do with it."

Jeremy stood there.

Breathing heavy.

Looking down at Ethan at the team at the boy who just bought him salvation with a

pass and a plan.

He didn’t cry.

He just nodded.

Softly.

To himself.

"Thank you, Ethan..."

And in that moment, the noise below didn’t matter.

Because the weight was finally lifting.

And in the distance, for the first time in a long time...

Jeremy Park saw a future.

....

In the chaos, Ethan turned away from Leonel, walking back to his team.

Louie grabbed him around the shoulders.

Lucas bumped his fist.

Ayumi ran toward him, eyes wide.

But before anyone could say a word, Ethan raised a hand.

Palm up.

"Hold on."

He looked up at the scoreboard.

105–103.

The win was real.

But still he whispered:

"System."

(Reward)

[UPGRADE POINTS +100 | SHOP POINTS +1000]

A soft chime echoed in his mind.

And Ethan smiled.

Only slightly.

But it was the smile of someone who saw the future — and was ready for it.

Coach Rios approached Leonel quietly, hands in his pockets.

"Wasn’t expecting them to last like that, huh?"

Leonel didn’t answer right away.

He exhaled slowly.

Then turned to him and said:

"They won this round. Doesn’t mean they’ve won the war."

...

POST-GAME INTERVIEW — "THE GIANT SLAYERS"

Location: Midtown Arena, post-game court interview

Date: August 6, 2010

Host: "High School Hoops Weekly"

Reporter: Jamie Santos, local sports anchor in a navy blazer with wild 2010 hair gel

JAMIE SANTOS (grinning, mic in hand):

"We’re here live with the miracle team of the night — Vorpal Basket! A middle school team that just toppled the semi-pro powerhouse, Blazing Fox, in an absolutely electric 105–103 victory! And not only that — they’ve just won the grand prize: $10,000 dollars for their school’s basketball program!"

(The crowd behind her is still going wild. Confetti flutters. The team gathers around, sweaty, hoarse, but beaming.)

...

🎤 ETHAN ALBARADO

JAMIE: "Ethan! You called the final play, you read Leonel Blaze’s movements like a chessboard, and you kept your team together. How does it feel to walk out of here with the win and that prize money?"

ETHAN (voice calm, eyes still sharp):

"It wasn’t just my win. We did this together. All of us. Leonel’s the strongest player I’ve ever faced... but the thing about rhythm is once you find the beat, you don’t break. You dance."

"We didn’t just survive. We adapted."

...

🎤 LUCAS GRAVES

JAMIE: "Lucas! That pull-up three in the final minute — the whole stadium went silent until it dropped. What was going through your head?"

LUCAS (grinning, wiping sweat from his eyes):

"I wasn’t thinking."

"I’ve shot that same shot a thousand times and Ethan trusted me. So I fired."

(He chuckles)

"Also, we really needed that ten grand."

...

🎤 LOUIE

JAMIE: "Louie! You were moving like a hurricane out there spin moves, no-look passes, trash talk. What fueled that performance?"

LOUIE (flexing dramatically):

"Easy. Energy drinks, raw emotion, and a burning hatred of losing."

"But real talk? That Blazing team is scary. I had to be louder than my fear."

...

🎤 EVAN COOPER

JAMIE: "Evan, your court vision was a game-changer. The way you navigated their press... was that all instinct?"

EVAN (softly, glasses fogged up):

"Nah. It was trust. I knew where my guys would be. That’s what made the difference."

🎤 BRANDON YOUNG

JAMIE: "Brandon! You anchored the paint against players two, three years older. You took hits and still dunked. How did you hold up?"

BRANDON (rubbing his shoulder, tired but proud):

"I just kept saying, ’One more stop. One more play.’ That’s all we needed."

....

🎤Kai

JAMIE: "Kai! You weren’t on the court, but I saw you screaming louder than anyone on the bench. What does this win mean to you?"

Kai (beaming):

"EVERYTHING! We’re the underdogs. But now we got $10k, baby!"

..

🎤 Coonie

JAMIE: "Coonie— you called rotations from the bench. Saw things others missed. What made you believe you guys could win?"

Coonie (calm, nodding):

"Because we’re not afraid to lose. That’s what makes us dangerous."

..

🎤 JOSH & RYAN (Support Guards)

JAMIE: "Josh, Ryan — quick thoughts. Did you think this was possible?"

JOSH:

"Yes. Because we practiced like it was life or death."

RYAN (pumping fists):

"And because Ethan’s a freaking genius."

🎤 AIDEN (Small Forward)

JAMIE: "Aiden, you had huge off-ball movement. You disrupted their whole defense. Did you expect this game to come down to the wire?"

AIDEN (laughing):

"I expected a war. And we came prepared."

...

🎤 AYUMI BROOKE (Team Manager, Middle School Student)

JAMIE: "What does this win mean for Vorpal’s future?"

AYUMI (wiping tears, holding clipboard to her chest):

"It means we belong. Not just on middle school courts... but any court."

"They didn’t believe in us. But look at us now."

JAMIE (to camera):

"From a forgotten middle school to the biggest upset in the youth circuit — Vorpal Basket isn’t just a team anymore. They’re a story. They’re a movement. And tonight, they walk out with $10,000 and something far more valuable — respect."

"Back to you, at the studio!"

Camera zooms out as the team gathers midcourt again hugging, laughing, crying under the arena lights. The final image? Ethan lifting the game ball to the sky, surrounded by his brothers in battle.

To be continue

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