Extra Basket

Chapter 319 306: Vorpal vs Wildcats (18) Rookie?

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…

…

Before the 4th Quarter

The buzzer sounded.

Not sharp.

Not loud.

Just final.

End of the third.

The scoreboard glowed above them, numbers burning into everyone's peripheral vision—but no one spoke about it yet. Sweat dripped onto the hardwood. Shoes scuffed as bodies slowed. Lungs pulled air like they'd just surfaced from deep water.

Vorpal gathered near the bench.

Not sloppy.

Not frantic.

Tight.

Focused.

Coach Fred Mason stood there with his clipboard, mouth open then closed it again. He swallowed, eyes darting instinctively toward Ethan.

Old habit.

One he hadn't fully broken yet.

Ethan noticed.

He always did.

(He's trying.) Ethan thought. (But he still doesn't trust himself.)

So Ethan stepped forward.

Not to take over.

To steady.

"Alright," he said calmly, voice cutting cleanly through the noise. "Everyone sit. Breathe."

They listened.

Every single one of them.

Lucas dropped onto the bench beside him, towel around his neck, yellow eyes sharp but warm. Ayumi hovered just behind, already passing water bottles, her movements practiced, her eyes lingering on Lucas for half a second longer than necessary.

Brandon sat heavily, massive frame folding inward as he leaned forward, forearms on his knees. Ryan lounged back beside him, sweat-slick hair pushed up, trying and failing to look relaxed.

Louie was pacing.

Of course he was.

Josh stood off to the side, arms crossed, jaw tight.

Aiden leaned against the scorer's table, eyes never leaving the court.

Coonie sprawled dramatically across two chairs.

Jeremy sat close to Ethan.

Kai bounced lightly on his heels, nodding at everyone like they needed a reminder to keep believing.

Coach Mason cleared his throat.

"Okay—fourth quarter," he began, then hesitated. "We, uh… we've done well. But Wildcats…"

Ethan lifted a hand.

Coach Mason stopped immediately.

Not offended.

Relieved.

"Coach," Ethan said gently, "let me break it down first. Then you close."

Coach Mason nodded fast. "Right. Yeah. Go ahead."

Ethan turned to the team.

The noise of the gym faded.

This wasn't a speech.

This was a calculation.

"They're going to change gears," Ethan said. "Miho hasn't gone all out yet."

Ryan snorted. "You say that like the last three possessions weren't war crimes."

Louie slapped Ryan's shoulder. "Don't joke about that, bro. I almost saw my life flash."

Lucas leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"He's syncing deeper," Lucas said quietly. "Not just timing. Intention."

Ayumi stiffened slightly behind him.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

Lucas didn't look back.

"It means they'll move before we do."

Silence.

Brandon exhaled slowly. "So… we're reacting too late."

Ethan nodded.

"Exactly."

Josh frowned. "Then what do we do? Guess?"

Ethan shook his head.

"No. We simplify."

Coonie raised an eyebrow. "Oh good. Because I was getting tired of thinking."

Jeremy snorted despite himself.

Ethan continued.

"Evan," he said, turning to the point guard. "You control tempo. No panic dribbles. No forced passes. If a lane closes, we reset immediately."

Evan nodded once, sharp and serious. "Got it."

"Brandon," Ethan said. "They're going to test you early. Hard. Don't chase blocks. Stay vertical. Be a wall."

Brandon's eyes hardened. "I can do that."

"Ryan," Ethan said next.

Ryan grinned. "Ah. My favorite part."

"You're bait," Ethan said flatly.

Ryan blinked. "…Excuse me?"

Louie burst out laughing. "HAHA—YOU HEARD HIM."

Ethan allowed a small smile.

"They think you're reckless," Ethan said. "Use it. Slip screens early. Drag their help defender out. Don't force shots unless I signal."

Ryan clicked his tongue. "Using my reputation against them. Dirty." He winked. "I love it."

Ethan turned to Lucas.

"Lucas," he said. "You're my pressure valve."

Lucas straightened.

"If things break down," Ethan continued, "I need you cutting or pulling defenders with you. Mimic whatever keeps them honest."

Lucas smiled slightly.

"Sunshine duty," he said. "Got it."

Ayumi squeezed his shoulder without thinking.

Then froze.

Then pretended she meant to.

Ethan looked at Louie.

"Louie," he said.

Louie snapped to attention like a soldier. "YES SIR."

"You talk," Ethan said. "You distract. You make noise. You keep energy high even when it's ugly."

Louie puffed his chest. "I WAS BORN FOR THIS."

"Josh, Aiden," Ethan added. "Stay ready. Wildcats rotate fast. One mistake and you're in."

Both nodded.

Coonie raised two fingers lazily. "And me?"

Ethan glanced at him.

"You keep everyone loose," he said. "But the moment I look at you—be ready."

Coonie smirked. "I live for that look."

Kai pumped his fist. "We got this!"

Jeremy leaned closer to Ethan.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

Ethan paused.

Just for a second.

(This is it.) he thought. (The point where the story was supposed to break me.)

He looked up.

Met Miho's gaze across the court.

Calm.

Challenging.

Awake.

"Yeah," Ethan said softly. "I am."

Coach Mason finally stepped forward again, voice steadier now.

"Listen to him," he said. "Trust each other. Trust the plan…" he corrected himself quickly, "I mean, trust your plan."

A beat.

Then, quieter.

"And… Ethan."

Ethan looked back.

Coach Mason met his eyes.

"I'm with you."

Ethan nodded.

Across the court, away from Vorpal's tightening huddle, the Wildcats gathered.

But unlike Vorpal's controlled calm, this circle sagged.

Not broken.

Just… heavy.

Miho Park stood at the center, hands on his hips, chest rising and falling with measured breaths. Sweat slid down his temple, tracing the sharp line of his jaw before dripping to the floor. His eyes moved not wildly, not impatiently but thoroughly, cataloging everything.

One by one.

Armi Hassuf leaned forward, hands braced on his knees. His shoulders were tense, breath shallow. His shooting arm trembled faintly when he flexed his fingers.

Davis Conner stood upright, massive frame still imposing, but the subtle delay in his movements betrayed him. Each breath came a fraction slower than before. The power was still there but it was burning fuel faster now.

Jun Seo paced once, then stopped. His footwork was sharp, but the spring had dulled just enough for Miho to notice. Sweat darkened the collar of his jersey.

Kenji Takeda wiped his face with his wrist, eyes narrowed behind calm focus but the blink rate had increased. Tiny. Almost invisible.

But Miho saw it.

He always did.

(Tsk…)

Miho exhaled slowly through his nose.

(They're exhausted.)

Not weak.

Not sloppy.

Just reaching the limit that no amount of synchronization could fully erase.

His gaze drifted briefly to the Wildcats' bench.

Sparse.

Quiet.

Unproven.

(Our bench…)

His jaw tightened.

(…isn't that good.)

The thought tasted bitter.

Then came the truth he hated more.

(But do we even have a choice?)

Miho clenched his fist once, then relaxed it.

(If we want to survive the fourth… we need to save breath.)

Before he could speak

Coach Okamoto's voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding.

"Starters, rest well!"

Miho's head snapped up.

"Bench, come in!!"

The words landed like a hammer.

Miho stepped forward instantly.

"Coach," he said, voice firm, controlled. "Let me play."

Okamoto didn't even look at him at first. He scribbled something on his clipboard, then finally lifted his gaze.

His eyes were calm.

Unyielding.

"If you just want to play because you think the bench can't handle them," Okamoto said flatly, "then you're wrong."

Miho stiffened.

"What?"

Okamoto turned slightly and raised his voice.

"Ikinawa."

A beat passed.

Then

A yawn.

A long one.

"Haaaah~"

Heads turned.

A boy stood up from the far end of the bench, stretching his arms above his head like he'd just woken from a nap.

"What is it, Coach?" he said lazily.

Okamoto's eyebrow twitched.

"What do you mean 'what is it'?" he snapped. "It's your turn."

The boy blinked.

Then scratched the back of his head.

He stepped forward slowly.

Brown skin glistened under the gym lights. His hair was tied back in a loose knot, strands falling carelessly around his face. His jersey looked almost too clean—like it hadn't seen real minutes yet.

"Uh… it's my turn now, huh?" he muttered.

Miho stared.

Actually stared.

(Who…?)

He leaned closer to Okamoto.

"Coach," Miho asked quietly, "who is this?"

Okamoto didn't hesitate.

"Our rookie."

Miho's eyes widened just a fraction.

(A rookie… now?)

"I didn't know we had a rookie like him," Miho said honestly.

The boy, Ikinawa looked up.

Their eyes met.

And then

Ikinawa grinned.

Wide.

Bright.

Unbothered.

"Bro," he said casually, pointing a thumb at his own chest, "Miho. I idolize your style."

A few Wildcats blinked.

Jun Seo frowned.

Armi straightened slightly.

Davis raised an eyebrow.

Miho didn't respond.

So Ikinawa kept going.

He stepped closer, grin widening, eyes sharp despite the lazy posture.

"I've watched your games since middle school," he said. "That calm? That control? Crazy."

Then he turned, glancing toward the court—toward Vorpal.

His grin sharpened.

"Let me handle this," Ikinawa said lightly. "While you all rest."

Silence fell.

Not awkward.

Not loud.

Just… stunned.

Miho searched the rookie's face.

No fear.

No hesitation.

No desperation to prove himself.

Just confidence.

Raw.

Untested.

But real.

Miho inhaled.

Then exhaled.

Slow.

Measured.

(…Interesting.)

Coach Okamoto placed a hand on Miho's shoulder.

"Trust me," he said quietly. "Even Apex needs breath."

Miho nodded once.

Then stepped back.

As Ikinawa walked toward the scorer's table, he cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders like he was about to play pickup at a park.

Miho watched him go.

Eyes sharp.

Mind calculating.

(If you fail… we lose momentum.)

(But if you succeed…)

Miho's lips curved not into a smile

But into something close.

The fourth quarter buzzer echoed.

The rookie stepped onto the court.

And the Wildcats' future just for a moment

Rested on unfamiliar shoulders.

To be continued.