So, guys, I’ve been sick again. Hayst. But thankfully, I’m okay now. I’ve got my ds and I’m slowly getting back on my feet.
Honestly, ever since I was a kid, my life has been like this surrounded by dicines, hospitals, and constant health struggles. It’s not easy living life on dication, but because of that, I spent a lot of ti alone. And in that quiet, I found sothing beautiful: stories.
I loved imagining other worlds. Isekai, fantasy lands, or even just retelling the stories I heard from my dad and friends. They would share their own experiences, funny, deep, or painful and I would take those and let them grow in my imagination. I imagined what their stories would look like in a different world, or if they beca characters in an ani or a novel.
That’s when I realized: I want to be a storyteller. I want to create stories that touch people’s hearts, just like how others’ stories inspired and comforted during my sick days. Writing beca my escape and now, it’s my purpose.
So yeah, my life may be full of ds but it’s also full of imagination, dreams, and the will to keep creating no matter what.
All I need is your support whether it’s reading my stories, leaving a like or comnt, sharing my work, or simply encouraging when things get tough. Every little bit of support gives strength to keep writing, keep dreaming, and keep going. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
.....
The clock ticked past 3:00 PM.
Classes were over.
The gymnasium at Oak Hill Academy buzzed with the sounds of squeaking sneakers and bouncing basketballs. Afternoon light stread in through the tall windows, casting golden lines across the polished wooden floor.
Ethan Albarado stood calmly by the sidelines, arms crossed, his blue eyes locked on two players at center court.
One of them was new—yet already stirring waves.
The other? A starter, a talent they all knew.
And today, they were about to clash.
Coach Fred Mason stood with his whistle lazily dangling around his neck. He eyed the new kid with a neutral expression.
"Louie," he said gruffly, "you’re now officially a mber of Vorpal Basket."
The words echoed across the gym.
Louie Gee Davas?
Didn’t even flinch.
He just grinned wide.
"(This fatass was always under the radar...)." Louie thought, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"(What did Ethan do to make this corrupt old man suddenly listen to reason?)"
Ethan stepped forward, his voice cutting through the mont with clarity.
"Even if you’re one of us now," he said, "I need you to do sothing first."
Louie cocked his head. "And what is it?" he asked, the grin still hanging off the corner of his lips though a subtle gulp betrayed a bit of tension.
Ethan didn’t answer imdiately.
Instead, he turned his head toward the other player on the court.
Lucas Graves.
Calm. Focused. Slightly confused.
Ethan pointed. "Have a match with him."
Lucas blinked. "?"
He tapped his chest, raising an eyebrow.
"Yep," Ethan smirked. "You."
The gym grew a little quieter as the tension spiked.
Lucas looked across at Louie.
Louie looked back, almost evaluating.
"(So I’ve gotta play against Lucas Graves...)" Louie thought, his hands twitching slightly with excitent.
"(A year older... I may say one of the best on the team... Who copy other people.)"
Ethan narrowed his eyes and teased, "What? You chickening out already?"
Louie grinned, eyes glinting with fire.
"No way. In fact... thanks. For making go against him."
Ethan gave a mock sigh. "Then call him senior."
Louie chuckled and replied, "If he can beat ...then maybe I will."
His smirk widened.
Lucas raised an eyebrow at the cockiness. Then, sothing flickered behind his eyes.
Challenge. Excitent. Respect.
"(This guy...)" Lucas thought. "(He’s cocky, but it’s not empty. He’s fired up—I like it.)"
He clenched his fists and shouted:
"LET’S DO THIS!!!"
Louie bent his knees slightly, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
He watched Lucas’ posture, his stance, his rhythm.
"(So this is how he stands when he’s focused...)" Louie noted.
"(His aura is sharp. Calm, but ready to strike. I like it.)"
"(I don’t care if he can copy my moves... I’ll outthink him. I’ll outpace him. I’ll show him what original looks like.)"
He looked toward Ethan for just a mont.
"(Watch , Ethan. Watch earn it.)"
"(I’ll make you recognize .)"
The ball bounced once.
Then twice.
And in the center of the gym—Louie Gee Davas and Lucas Graves faced each other.
Two young beasts.
Both hungry.
Both burning.
The match was about to begin.
.....
The gym floor creaked softly beneath their sneakers. The afternoon light had llowed, casting long shadows. Other team mbers lingered at the sides, whispering, curious. But inside that court, only two mattered.
Lucas Graves, standing tall, ball in hand, calmly dribbling.
Louie Gee Davas, bouncing on his heels, focused, adrenaline building with every second.
They didn’t need a crowd.
They didn’t need a scoreboard.
To Louie this wasn’t for glory.... this was for recognition.
Ethan simply tossed a whistle to Coach Fred, who gave one short blow.
The match began.
The Vorpal Basket bench squad and the starters were all watching now:
Ethan Albarado, watching with arms crossed, a strategist behind the curtain.
Josh Turner, already whistling.
Ryan Taylor, leaned on the wall with crossed arms.
Brandon Young, seated like a stone tower.
Evan Cooper, rubbing his hands together, excited.
Jeremy, Kai, and Coonie whispered among themselves.
Coach Fred Mason stood to the side, clipboard in hand, watching silently.
The gym was still. Only the sound of bouncing basketballs from another court and distant sneakers squeaking faintly in the background.
"We’re playing to five," Ethan said. His voice calm. "No breaks. Straight points. No rcy."
Lucas dribbled the ball smoothly, studying Louie’s stance.
"You’re light on your toes. That’s good," he said. "But your right knee opens a little when you prep for lateral movent."
Louie smirked, cocking his head. "Tch. Who are you, a scout?"
Then his grin widened.
"Talk with your ga."
Louie thought to himself "(Don’t show him anything. Just react. Let the body talk.)"
Lucas responded. Crossover. Left to right. Into a hesitation.
Louie tracked him, sliding smoothly.
Then—boom—Lucas hit an "In-and-Out" dribble, planting his right foot and bursting forward into a hop step, gathering the ball into his chest.
Louie lunged to contest.
Too late.
Lucas floated the ball high off the glass. It arced beautifully and dropped through with a clean whisper.
"1–0." Lucas turned, speaking without flair. "Hop-float. Good against fast feet like yours."
"(He’s not just skilled. He’s like a maestro.)" Louie thought, retrieving the ball. "(But he’s not the only one who can adapt.)"
Louie brought it up top.
Quick jab step. His right foot stabbed forward. Lucas twitched—
That was the bait.
Louie slashed right, then spun left on a di, digging his pivot foot into the floor, launching himself into a silky step-back midrange jumper.
Swish.
"Alec Storm’s not the only one who can hoop."
Lucas raised an eyebrow, respect flickering across his face. "You are good"
"Yosh."
Lucas bounced the ball again, breathing slow.
He mimicked Louie’s earlier move—jab step, spin—but instead of shooting, he twisted into a reverse pivot layup, off-hand, spinning away from Louie’s contest attempt.
Ball kissed glass.
Dropped in.
"2–1."
"He’s using my rhythm against ... turning my style inside out," Louie realized. "He’s not just playing . He’s learning ."
Louie cracked his neck. Smiled.
"Try copying sothing I haven’t even done twice."
He attacked—slash right, leap into the air—but mid-air, he twisted, slapping the ball off the backboard with his right hand.
The crowd gasped.
He caught it again with his left before landing, twisted mid-air, and fired the shot.
Lucas jumped—
But the ball was already sailing.
Swish.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!" Lucas shouted, stunned. "Did you just pass to yourself off the glass!?"
Louie landed smoothly, already backing up. "Yup. What, you never tried that before?"
"...No! Who does that!?"
Louie laughed, hands up. "."
[Basketball Note: Passing off the backboard to yourself is legal if done without traveling. It’s flashy, rare, and demands elite body control and timing.]
Lucas stepped forward, unshaken. He began low, dribbling tight, explosive—shoulders hunched like a sprinter off the blocks.
Then he dropped a low crossover behind-the-back, switched hands clean, half-spin fake, and glided around Louie’s side for an underhand finger roll.
"3–2."
Louie reached—missed air.
"Damn. He’s quicker. No wasted movent. Every step counts."
The crowd was hushed. Then murmurs started again.
Ethan nodded slowly. "His decision-making... it’s faster."
Coach Fred scribbled sothing down without lifting his eyes.
Ryan leaned forward from the wall, voice low. "Louie’s not bad. But Lucas... Lucas is a monster."
But what ca next was the mont Louie would never forget.
....
anwhile... At the Orlando Hoops Facility, Miami, Florida
Alec sat on the edge of the bench, towel around his shoulders.
Julian walked over, handing him a cold-water bottle.
He sat down beside him.
Julian said, "You’ve been quiet since we got back from Virginia. You thinking about that match again?"
Alec smirked, twisting the cap off. "You want to know why I got locked down by Lucas Graves?"
Julian blinked. "I thought you underestimated him. That’s not like you."
Alec leaned back, staring at the ceiling of the gym.
"I did... but it wasn’t just that. That guy’s ability..." he paused.
"It’s not just copying. He doesn’t just imitate—he understands."
Julian looked curious. "Explain."
Alec sat up. His voice dropped lower, serious.
"He copied my crossover, yeah. But then he changed it. He made it tighter. Faster. And when I adjusted, he was already adapting again."
"That’s not normal."
"So what now?"
Alec stood up, spinning the ball on his finger.
"Simple. We train harder. And when the next match cos..."
The spin slowed.
The ball dropped into his palm.
He gripped it tight.
His mind wandered back—not to the crowd, not to the buzzer, not to Lucas’ glare.
But to that one person.
To him.
"(Ethan... that guy.)"
"(If it weren’t for him—I wouldn’t have been locked down by Lucas.)"
Alec closed his eyes briefly, his mind replaying a single mont on that day.
To be continue
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