Extra Basket-Chapter 181 - 168: You are what you are.

The world was... light.

But not warm.

Just pale and endless — like walking through clouds that didn’t move.

Ethan Albarado stood barefoot, the surface beneath him unrecognizable — soft, yet firm. Real, yet dreamlike. There was no wind. No sound. Only that strange pressure in his chest.

He looked down at his hands.

But they weren’t his hands.

Not anymore.

They were pale fingers longer, bones more prominent, faded calluses along the side where a pencil once rested. Not the hardened grip of a basketball player.

He gasped.

"This... this isn’t me..."

He was Jonathan Anderson again.

The boy from another life. The one who should’ve remained ordinary — unnoticed. The boy who spent too many hours staring at ceilings, trying to convince himself he mattered.

The one who died.

"Am I... dead again?"

A voice came from behind him. Calm. Soft.

"Not quite."

Ethan turned.

And there he was.

A younger version of himself but not Jonathan. Not Ethan. A strange fusion of both. Ten, maybe eleven years old. Messy black hair that stuck out in all directions. Golden eyes shimmering with quiet understanding.

The boy wore no shoes, just like Ethan. Each step he took left faint ripples in the ground of light.

"Hello, me from another world."

Ethan blinked, his throat tight.

"What do you mean ’me’?"

The boy didn’t answer right away. He simply kept walking, until the distance between them vanished.

Then he stopped and said:

"You carried both of us this far. But you’ve forgotten something."

Ethan’s brows furrowed.

"Forgotten what?"

"Who you are."

"I know who I am!" Ethan snapped, voice echoing across the void like a crack in glass. "I’m Ethan Albarado now. I play for Vorpal Basket. I—"

"No." The boy cut in not harshly, but firmly. "You’re not just Ethan. And you’re not just Jonathan. You’re both. You’re more."

The world shuddered.

From the pale fog around them, mirrors rose one by one — thousands of them, curving around in a dome, each shimmering with memory.

In one, a young Jonathan lay in a hospital bed, tears in his eyes as the doctor spoke gently.

In another, Ethan hit a three-pointer, teammates cheering.

A mirror flickered to a boy in a wheelchair, watching an old video of himself playing.

Then a child, screaming in triumph as sweat dripped from his face, fists raised in a forgotten game.

Each reflection was real.

Each one, him.

"All of these... are me?"

"Yes." The boy’s eyes never left the mirrors. "And if you want to live... if you want to wake up... you have to accept all of us. Not just the strong parts. Not just the athlete. The scared parts. The weak parts. The real parts."

Ethan dropped to his knees.

The tide of memory surged.

The hospital’s beeping monitors.

The blinding headlights.

The helpless feeling of wheels beneath his hands.

The crushing silence in his room.

The way his father stopped looking him in the eye.

I wasn’t supposed to be like this.

I was never meant to be more.

And yet...

That second chance.

That breath.

That promise.

I swore I’d never waste it.

Tears blurred his vision.

"I want to go back."

The boy knelt beside him.

"But first... you need to become strong. After all, you know the future of this novel, don’t you?"

Ethan looked up, still trembling.

The boy’s eyes were serious now. Focused.

"Those monsters on the court... those prodigies."

"Yeah..." Ethan clenched his teeth. "I need to become much stronger than I am now... But what about the one who shot me? What if everyone’s still in danger?"

The boy’s voice softened.

"You don’t need to worry about them..."

His tone shifted like a breeze whispering between veils.

"You don’t need to worry about them..."

Ethan’s breath caught.

"What do you mean?"

No answer.

The boy stood and walked toward a mirror.

Inside it: chaos.

Lucas, shirt stained red, screamed Ethan’s name, his voice broken with desperation.

Ayumi collapsed behind him, phone in hand, fingers shaking.

Charlotte sobbed silently as she dialed frantically.

Louie stood frozen, for once without a clever remark.

Ethan stared at it, wide-eyed.

His reflection pale and ghostlike hovered behind it all.

"They’ll carry you," the boy said, eyes still fixed on the mirror. "Just like you carried them."

Ethan’s fists tightened.

"That’s not fair... I promised I’d protect them. I swore—"

"And you will." The boy turned back to him. His voice no longer gentle — but unwavering. "But protection doesn’t mean being a shield all the time. Sometimes it means being a light. A reason to keep going. A symbol of faith."

Ethan breathed shakily.

He felt... small.

Smaller than ever.

But somewhere deep inside, something sparked.

A warmth.

A flicker.

Like a candle refusing to be blown out.

"...Then give me that chance," he whispered. "Let me go back. Let me grow stronger. Let me face those monsters. For Lucas. For everyone."

The boy nodded.

"You already have the strength. But now... you’ll also have the will."

Above them, the clouds shimmered.

The pale light gave way to a golden glow — soft, radiant, like dawn over mountains.

The boy held out his hand.

"You won’t remember this clearly. But you’ll feel it — in every pass, every shot, every heartbeat."

Ethan stared at the hand.

Then slowly, trembling...

He reached out.

Their fingers touched.

And then—

[SYSTEM ONLINE]

Resynchronizing Consciousness...

Medical Override Activated.

Vitals Stabilizing...

Time of Revival: 5:02 PM

..

Back in the real world—

Flashing lights.

Screams.

The blare of an ambulance.

Lucas sat at Ethan’s side, gripping his hand like a lifeline. Like if he let go, the world would collapse.

The paramedics shouted.

"Clear!"

A jolt.

The defibrillator discharged.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep—

A twitch.

Ethan’s fingers moved.

Lucas gasped.

And then—

His eyes opened.

Not wide.

But enough.

Enough to breathe.

Enough to live.

Ethan blinked once.

The transparent window hovered gently in front of his vision, glowing faintly blue in the hospital’s sterile light.

[Would you like to train in a lucid dream while unconscious?]

Yes / No

His body was still too weak to move much — his breath shallow, IV lines laced across his arm, a heart monitor gently beeping behind him. But in his mind?

He was awake.

"Yes," Ethan whispered under his breath.

The moment he said it, the window dissolved like dust into the wind.

His eyelids fluttered once... then closed fully.

To be continue

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