Extra Basket-Chapter 157 - 144: Loan Shark (20)

"Back to you, at the studio!"

CLICK.

The TV screen faded to black, the final image lingering Ethan Albarado lifting the game ball to the sky under the golden lights of Midtown Arena.

In a sleek high-rise office above the city, surrounded by polished marble floors and enormous windows revealing the neon pulse of downtown, a White-haired teenager leaned back in a leather chair. A subtle grin curved across his lips. His sharp blue eyes reflected the screen’s last flicker.

He looked no older than 15. His hair was swept back in a loose, practiced mess — effortlessly noble. His sports jacket hung off one shoulder, and a gold ring glittered on his finger, marked with a strange emblem: Ω.

"You really did it, huh... Ethan Albarado."

He sounded amused. But it wasn’t mockery.

It was acknowledgment.

A king recognizing another piece rising on the board.

A quiet knock.

"Sir," said a voice behind him.

An assistant dressed in crisp black and silver bowed slightly. "The Gods Team is waiting."

For a moment, the blond didn’t move.

Then he stood. Fluid. Controlled.

Even his step felt imperial.

He walked to the window, staring down at the city, hands folded behind his back.

"I’ll be right there."

The assistant nodded and left, silent.

The room fell still again.

Only the sound of the wind brushing the windows far above the world.

Then, just before he turned away — the white hair guy whispered:

"See you on the court, Ethan Albarado."

His smile sharpened.

"Let’s see if your rhythm holds... against the Gods."

...

Meanwhile After the prize.

The crowd had started to thin. Some still lingered, buzzing with disbelief over Vorpal’s victory. But down near the baseline, away from the noise and cameras, a more personal moment was unfolding.

Ethan Albarado stood quietly near the scorer’s table, sweat still clinging to his brow, jersey soaked from the war he’d just fought. His yellow eyes, sharp on the court, now looked... calm. Tired.

But not finished.

Behind him, Jeremy Park approached. Slow steps. Hesitant. His arms hung stiff at his sides, his face pale not from fear anymore, but shame.

He didn’t even get to speak before Ethan turned, already reaching into the inner pocket of his duffel bag. He pulled out an envelope thick, sealed.

And handed it forward.

"Here," Ethan said, voice low but firm. "Five thousand. You can pay him back."

Jeremy’s eyes widened.

He stared at the envelope like it was glowing.

"What...?"

His voice cracked.

"You earned it," Ethan continued, "This win was yours too."

Jeremy’s hands trembled as he stepped forward, taking the envelope with both palms like it was sacred.

And then—

He dropped to his knees.

"Thank you... thank you, Ethan..." he whispered, voice breaking, head bowed so low it touched his chest.

"I thought I ruined everything..."

The team turned toward them.

Louie stepped forward, fire still in his blood, arms crossed tight across his chest. His voice came rough and sharp:

"Next time... don’t bring Ethan’s name into your mess."

He leaned closer, tone darker.

"Or else I’ll—"

"Louie," Lucas interrupted, stepping between them. His hand landed gently on Louie’s shoulder.

"Calm down. It’s done now. Debt’s paid."

Louie grunted, looking away with a roll of his eyes.

"Tch. Whatever. Just don’t let it happen again."

Ethan reached down and helped Jeremy to his feet.

"What happens next is up to you," he said quietly. "Just don’t waste it."

Jeremy nodded, tears still clinging to the corners of his eyes.

"I won’t. I swear... I’ll work. I’ll train. I’ll— I’ll earn it."

Ethan gave the faintest smile.

"Good. Then we’re even."

The rest of the team slowly joined them Brandon, Evan, Aiden, Ryan, Josh, Coonie, Kai all silent, but present. Together.

In the distance, the $10,000 check sat on the scorer’s table.

But here in this moment the real victory was something else:

A debt erased. A mistake forgiven. A team truly unified.

..

A small TV flickered in the corner of a dusty breakroom. Coffee stains on the table. Crumbs on the floor. A half-eaten donut from three days ago sat on a napkin like a fossil.

Coach Fred Mason, slouched in a squeaky office chair, wore his usual tracksuit — a size too tight around the belly and a whistle that hadn’t been blown in years.

He sipped from a styrofoam cup filled with lukewarm instant coffee, eyes half-lidded with boredom as he lazily watched the post-game broadcast.

"...and in a stunning upset, Vorpal Basket defeats the undefeated Blazing Fox team to take home the ten thousand dollar grand prize—"

PFFFFFFT!!

Fred spit his coffee all over the table, coughing as he sat upright like a man who’d just been electrocuted.

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

He scrambled toward the TV, face pressed against the screen like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

"They played WHO?! BLAAAAZING FOX?! And they WON?!"

He grabbed the remote, clicked up the volume like it would change the facts.

The screen now showed Ethan, Lucas, and Ayumi holding a massive check. A banner behind them read:

"Winner: Vorpal Basket"

Fred’s face turned red. Not from pride.

From rage.

"WHY DIDN’T ANYONE TELL ME?!"

"WHO SAID THEY COULD PLAY A TOURNAMENT WITHOUT ME?!"

He stumbled around the room, waving the remote like a sword.

"I’m the HEAD coach! I’m the LEGEND! I’m the REASON that team exists!! They’re using my name! My jersey!! Where’s my CUT of that money?!"

He pointed at the screen, where Ayumi was giving a victory interview.

"We’re so proud. We didn’t need anyone but each other. We had no official support, but we had something better... heart."

Fred’s face twitched.

"NO OFFICIAL SUPPORT?! YOU LITTLE—!!"

He collapsed back into his chair, panting like he’d run a mile.

(He hadn’t run anything since 2004.)

He grumbled to himself, slapping his knee.

"I swear... when I find those brats, I’ll— I’ll..."

....

Meanwhile The night air had cooled, but tension still crackled like static. Just beyond the arena’s glowing exit doors, in a shadowed alley by a loading dock, the real confrontation waited.

Big King.

A hulking man in a trench coat, still sitting on a steel crate like a throne of concrete and smoke. A fresh cigarette dangled from his lips, barely lit. Beside him stood Brick crossed, face like a stone wall and two other men: Slim and Wrecker, both towering, both silent.

The ground crunched under shoes.

Ethan Albarado led the team forward. Jeremy trailed half a step behind him, envelope in hand, nerves buzzing like exposed wire. Lucas, Louie, and the rest stood close — not as spectators, but as a wall behind their captain.

Big King’s lone eye gleamed beneath the shadow of his brow.

"Well, well..." he rumbled, cigarette glowing as he exhaled.

"Didn’t think you’d actually walk out of that game alive. Let alone... rich."

Jeremy stepped forward and bowed.

"Sir. The debt... it’s paid. In full."

He held out the envelope. Hands shaking. Not from fear but because this was the moment that had haunted him for weeks.

Big King didn’t move at first.

Then... he stood.

Slow. Deliberate.

Each step he took toward Jeremy made the ground feel heavier.

He reached out not snatching, just... taking. He opened the envelope.

Counted.

Once.

Twice.

Then he nodded once.

"$5,000."

A puff of smoke trailed off.

"Debt’s clean."

Jeremy’s eyes welled up. Shoulders sagging.

"T-Thank you..."

But Big King didn’t look at Jeremy. His gaze shifted... to Ethan.

"...You."

Ethan met his eyes without blinking.

"What?"

Big King gave a slow, gravel-filled chuckle.

"You had every reason not to get involved. Every reason to turn your back and let this little coward drown in his own choices."

"...But you didn’t."

He took one last puff and dropped the cigarette. Crushed it beneath his heel.

"You’re the real deal." He looked around at the team. "All of you. Might be kids, but I’ve seen grown men handle less with more panic."

Brick grunted. Almost impressed.

Slim cracked his knuckles but didn’t speak.

Big King stepped back, exhaling like the weight had passed.

Then he spoke, louder.

"Jeremy Park’s debt is paid. Clean. No interest. No favors owed. No strings."

Jeremy fell to his knees again, head low.

"Thank you... thank you..."

Lucas placed a hand on his shoulder.

Louie crossed his arms.

"Good. Now it’s over."

Big King turned one last time toward Ethan.

"Don’t ever end up in this kind of situation yourself, boy."

Ethan didn’t flinch.

"I won’t."

Big King gave a faint nod.

Then he cracked a faint, amused grin.

"Well, I’ll be damned... Ten thousand dollars for a middle school team. Guess miracles still happen."

He looked at Brick.

"Let’s roll."

Brick turned. Slim and Wrecker followed.

But just before stepping into the shadows, Big King stopped. Over his shoulder, he muttered:

"Ethan Albarado... if you ever play for money again..."

"...call me. I like betting on winners."

And with that, they vanished into the city.

Silence hung in the alley for a beat longer.

Then—

Jeremy sobbed, quietly. Relief pouring out of him.

The team didn’t mock him. They stood still. United.

And Ethan?

He looked at the stars above the city.

"Debt cleared. Game won. Next step..."

He smiled.

"...Win the Championship"

...

The next day

The bell rang.

And for the first time in school history... it felt like a national anthem.

Students weren’t just walking through the hallways anymore; they buzzed through them. Phones out. Voices rising. Hushed gasps and wide eyes.

"Did you hear?! They actually beat the Blazing Fox!"

"Ten thousand dollars! For middle schoolers! That’s, like, pro-level crazy!"

"They said Ethan read Leonel Blaze like a book—"

"No, no, Lucas dunked it backwards over Malik Titan Reed! I saw it!"

And then came the hush.

As they walked in.

Ethan Albarado, backpack over one shoulder, yellow hair slightly tousled, eyes calm as ever, the eye of the storm.

Behind him were Lucas, half-awake but grinning, Louie, who had both headphones in and a bandage on his elbow like a badge of war, and Brandon, hands in pockets like the quiet tank he always was.

Evan jogged to catch up with them, holding a carton of chocolate milk.

"Dude," he whispered, "people are staring at us like we just came back from fighting aliens."

Louie smirked.

"We basically did."

Ryan grin

"I should’ve worn shades. Feels like paparazzi."

Lucas yawned

Ethan didn’t say much. His eyes scanned the halls. Not in arrogance. In focus.

He knew the storm wasn’t over. Just changing shape

To be continue

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