Extra Basket-Chapter 167 - 154: Division Cup Vorpal vs Storm (8)

Start of 3rd Quarter

Score: Vorpal 40 – Roanoke 31

Location: Central Valley Division Cup.

The whistle blew.

And the court... changed.

It wasn’t just about who was on it now it was about who they became when they stepped in.

From the right side, wearing black and silver, with the number #20 stitched across his chest—

Ethan Albarado walked to the center circle.

Eyes steady.

Breath controlled.

Focus absolute.

Across from him, the full Roanoke Storm starting five took their positions.

#23 – Kagetsu Renjiro

The Human Thunderclap. Eyes unreadable. Shoulders relaxed. A storm contained in human form.

#1 – Marcus "Flash" Daniels

Small, twitchy, cocky. A live wire with goggles and confidence.

#12 – Tyrese Caldwell

Disciplined, focused. A shooter that didn’t flinch.

#34 – Andre "Tank" Malone

Built like a truck. Quiet. But every step shook the floor.

#50 – Malik Okafor

Taller than most high schoolers. The rim protector. The anchor.

And then—

#20 – Ethan Albarado

The extra. The anomaly. The strategist.

With him stood:

#8 – Josh Turner (Shooting Guard. Calm. Trigger ready.)

#9 – Evan Cooper (Point Guard. Brain and eyes of the team.)

#11 – Ryan Taylor (Power Forward. Grit and heart.)

#15 – Brandon Young (Center. Their wall.)

..

The sharp squeak of sneakers echoed across the gym as the third quarter began.

The scoreboard burned bright above the court.

Vorpal: 40

Roanoke: 31

8:00 remaining — 3rd Quarter

On the hardwood, tension rippled through the air like static before a storm.

Ethan Albarado stood at center court, stretching his shoulders, cracking his neck. His yellow hair was damp with sweat, his eyes locked on a single figure on the opposing side.

Kagetsu Renjiro.

The "Human Thunderclap" himself. Calm. Coiled. Smiling.

Across from him, Ethan didn’t return the expression.

Kagetsu narrowed his eyes, muttering under his breath.

"Finally... You came to play."

Ethan didn’t answer. Not out loud.

But in his head—

(No more studying. No more data collecting.)

(For now, that is...)

(’Cause I want to go crazy for once.)

The referee whistled.

Ball in. Game on.

Marcus "Flash" Daniels caught the inbound and immediately zipped toward the top of the key, scanning.

But Ethan moved up—fast.

No hesitation.

Flash flinched slightly as Ethan crowded the dribble, his footwork crisp, his hand hovering like a shadow waiting to snatch.

(Bait the left. Cut off the inside. If he panics — he kicks wide to Caldwell.)

And just like that—

Flash passed to the wing.

Tyrese Caldwell caught it. Flicked his wrists.

Pull-up three — off the bounce.

Ryan Taylor lunged with long arms raised.

CLANG!

The ball smacked off the iron.

Brandon Young snagged the rebound like a vacuum. Muscles tense. Focused.

The break began.

"RUN!" Ethan’s voice thundered across the court.

Evan Cooper took the outlet pass and sprinted down the right lane. Josh peeled off left.

Ryan thundered down the middle.

And Ethan?

Ethan walked.

Deliberate. Unhurried. Watching.

His eyes locked onto Kagetsu, already retreating into defensive position like a lion waiting for prey.

....

Jamie (commentator):

"It’s a fast break, but Ethan’s... walking?"

Coach Doyle:

"No, Jamie. He’s waiting."

Evan skidded to a stop just outside the arc. He hesitated then slung it to Josh.

Josh passed it right back.

Swing pass — top of the key — to Ethan.

He caught it smooth, like he’d been waiting for this exact second all along.

The crowd held its breath.

One-on-one. Albarado vs. Renjiro.

Lucas watched from the bench, holding his breath. Ayumi clutched her clipboard. Even Coach Fred dropped his protein bar mid-bite.

Ethan jab-stepped.

Kagetsu didn’t flinch.

Then came the move.

Crossover. Hard drive left.

Spin back right. Stop.

Kagetsu mirrored every inch.

(As expected. He doesn’t fall for flash. He plays by rhythm. He reacts.)

Ethan adjusted mid-step. He bumped Kagetsu’s shoulder. Dipped under.

And launched it.

One-handed floater — high arc — glass — clean.

SWISH.

The gym exploded.

Jamie:

"Ethan Albarado with the softest touch over the Thunderclap!"

Score: Vorpal 42 – Roanoke 31

7:42 remaining in the third quarter

Kagetsu landed light.

He blinked.

Then smiled not wide, but sharp.

Like a blade unsheathed.

"Good," he whispered, eyes never leaving Ethan.

"Now make me sweat."

Ethan didn’t look away either.

(I will.)

...

As The ball whipped back into Roanoke Storm’s possession like a pendulum ready to swing vengeance.

Score: Vorpal 42 – Roanoke 31

7:35 – 3rd Quarter

Marcus "Flash" Daniels darted forward, crossing half-court with blinding pace. But this time, he didn’t drive. He didn’t dance. He passed.

Straight to Kagetsu Renjiro.

And the gym fell quiet.

Kagetsu caught the ball at the wing.

He didn’t even dribble at first.

He just... stared.

Ethan stepped forward.

Two gladiators at the center of the storm.

Kagetsu’s Thoughts:

(He’s calm... almost too calm. But he’s not fearless. Just focused. Good. So am I.)

Then he moved.

One step. One breath.

And the court shifted.

His footwork was strange unorthodox. Not quite street. Not quite textbook. His shoulders swayed, but not off-balance. His rhythm staggered, awkward at first glance...

But that was the point.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed.

(That’s new... he’s disrupting tempo—on purpose?)

A sudden dribble-pound, then a fake crossover—

No.

A twist-hop, pivoting off the inside toe and spinning behind the back.

Kagetsu shot forward like lightning.

Kagetsu Style: Thunder Shift.

Ethan’s reflexes kicked in, sliding left anticipating the blow-by.

But Kagetsu didn’t drive. He stopped short and rose up.

Mid-range jumper — in rhythm.

Ethan leapt, a hand up.

Too late.

SWISH.

...

Jamie (commentator):

"WHAT A MOVE! Kagetsu Renjiro just hit him with a glitch in the rhythm! That’s not your average ISO play, Coach Doyle!"

Coach Doyle:

"That’s not just skill. That’s philosophy. That’s Kagetsu Style — dissonance into harmony."

...

Kagetsu landed, face calm, not even watching the ball fall. freёnovelkiss.com

He looked at Ethan.

"Come on. One shot won’t end you."

Ethan blinked.

Then smirked.

Ethan’s Thoughts:

(So this is what he’s been hiding. This is the evolution of someone born to dominate.)

(But I wasn’t born to dominate. I was born to adapt.)

Vorpal 42 – Roanoke 33

7:05 remaining

Brandon inbounded to Evan. Ethan didn’t wait.

He jogged up beside him.

"Top horn set. I want the ball in motion. Set a stagger for Josh—draw Malik to the weak side."

Evan nodded.

Ethan looked at Lucas on the bench, then to Ayumi.

Then back at Kagetsu.

"You’re not the only one with a style."

Back on defense, Kagetsu adjusted his headband slightly.

He could feel it now.

The shift in the air.

(You’re starting to match me... Albarado. Good.)

(Let’s see how long your fire burns before the thunder puts it out.)

...

Meanwhile bench side

The gym pulsed with tension — the kind you felt deep in your ribs, like thunder drumming from within.

The scoreboard blinked:

Vorpal 42 – Roanoke 33

6:50 – 3rd Quarter

On the bench, Lucas Graves leaned forward, elbows on knees, his golden eyes locked onto the court. Sweat still clung to his neck, his chest rising and falling from the earlier battle.

But his focus wasn’t on himself anymore.

It was on the boy now standing at center stage —

Ethan Albarado.

He watched as Ethan dribbled slowly, head low, eyes sharp.

Lucas’s Thoughts:

(Ethan... the way you’re moving... that’s not strategy. That’s something else. You’ve always been the brain. The one planning from behind the curtain. But now...)

(Now it looks like you want to go crazy for once, huh?)

A faint grin tugged at his lips.

"Ethan... go rampage."

Coonie Smith, sitting beside him, nodded slightly as if he understood the rhythm behind the madness. He didn’t say a word.

Louie Gee Davas, on the other hand, leapt up, nearly knocking over a water bottle.

"GO ETHAN!! BEAT THAT BASTARD!!" he yelled, pointing straight at Kagetsu like a proud younger brother hyping up his hero.

Aiden White, sitting behind them, let out a long sigh and muttered under his breath:

"Could’ve just said ’good luck,’ Louie..."

Jeremy Park, eyes locked on the court, clenched his fists in his lap.

His voice came out soft:

"Ethan..."

Beside him, Kai Mendoza adjusted his hair and gave a calm, knowing smile.

"Don’t worry."

"Ethan is strong."

...

Back on the court, Kagetsu moved into his stance, hands loose, but pressure heavy.

The arena roared, but Ethan heard none of it.

All he heard was the bounce... bounce... bounce of the ball in his hands — steady, thunderous, deliberate.

Kagetsu stood across from him, eyes narrowed, arms loose, waiting.

Ethan exhaled slowly.

His heartbeat? Controlled.

His mind? Calculated.

But his will? Wild.

(I’ll use every skill at my disposal... to test you.)

(You want a storm, Kagetsu? Then get ready to drown in the system I built piece by piece.)

With a single step forward, the engine roared to life.

Ethan’s core ignited.

🔹 Elite Crossover Dribble (Pro) — His body shifted with unnatural smoothness, slashing left then hard right, lightning-quick.

Kagetsu reacted fast — but not fast enough.

The moment he leaned forward—

🔹 Ankle Breaker (Pro) — SNAP.

The crowd gasped as Kagetsu’s footing stuttered — just enough.

(You’re not falling. You’re not broken. But I saw it — that shift. That hesitation.)

Ethan pulled up mid-range.

🔹 Jordan Shooting Form (Advanced) his elbow tucked, wrist relaxed.

Ethan’s Thoughts:

(Release. Arc. Balance. Follow-through. Clean.)

SWISH.

The net snapped crisp. The crowd erupted.

Score: Vorpal 44 – Roanoke 33

Kagetsu didn’t flinch.

He just smiled.

"Tch... so you’ve been hiding fire this whole time..."

Ethan backpedaled, eyes never leaving him.

(That was one.)

(Let’s see how long I can chain these together without burning out.)

Louie was on his feet again, screaming like a madman.

"WOOOOOOO!!! THAT’S MY MASTER!!"

Kai grinned.

Jeremy’s grip tightened.

Lucas?

He just smiled.

To be continue

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