Training Ground – Late Afternoon
The basketball bounced with an almost hypnotic rhythm on the concrete of the training court. The sun, still high, cast long shadows as sweat already beaded on Hugo’s forehead. He fired shot after shot like a machine. Three-pointer. Another one. Then another. He dribbled, ducked, dodged an imaginary opponent before spinning and releasing a perfect shot. The net snapped, again and again.
Then he ran, jumped, and slamd a dunk with an ease that made a few passing students turn their heads. Even alone, Hugo was fierce. Determined to prove he wasn’t just the "new kid" back from nowhere. He had been their captain, their damn captain, for Christ’s sake. But now? He had to start all over.
That’s when they arrived. Alan and five other guys, all mbers of the boys’ team. Veterans. Regulars. Echoes of his past.
Alan stepped forward, a smirk on his lips, arms crossed over his chest, tight in his jersey.
"Well, well. The phoenix is back."
His voice carried, tinged with irony. But Hugo didn’t even look up. He stood there, alone in the center of the court, his gaze fixed on the ball he was bouncing with regularity. The other guys had already gathered around Alan. Five of them, familiar faces. Players Hugo had once led, guided, transford. But today, he was nothing to them but a mory. A guy who had to start from scratch.
"Who gave you the courage to stand in front of , you bunch of followers?" he said in a flat tone, almost disinterested.
He bounced the ball. Then, in a flash, his body ca alive. A chest feint, a slide step to the right. He passed the ball between his legs with disconcerting ease, then, without even looking, executed a behind-the-back pass to one of the guys behind him. The surprise was total.
Before the defender could react, Hugo was already sprinting to the wing, catching the ball in mid-air. He jumped, pure montum. His body soared into the air like a forgotten promise. The dunk was brutal, sharp, a slap in the growing silence.
The circle trembled. The others froze for a second. Not a word.
But Hugo wasn’t done.
He recovered the ball and started again. He dribbled with fluidity. Crossover. Spin move. Acceleration. He slipped through them like a ghost. His crossovers were sharp, precise. He stepped back, looked up, and shot without hesitation. The net snapped, again and again. Each shot was a statent. He feinted, circled, spun. Raw, wild, bubbling energy.
Alan tried to block him. Too slow. He was left behind without even understanding how.
Another tried to stop him at the three-point line. Hugo spun, planted his feet, and scored with a one-handed shot. The ball didn’t even touch the rim.
A fourth player tried to grab him at the waist. Too late. Hugo jumped and slamd another dunk with fury.
The guys stepped aside one by one, impressed despite themselves. There was anger in his ga. A pent-up rage that expressed itself in every move, every shot. He wasn’t playing. He was pouring out his guts.
"You might be able to beat us on your own..." Alan said, breathless, trying to regain composure. "But what about our captain?"
The others exchanged a glance.
A tense silence fell, broken only by the sound of footsteps. A player approached from the far end of the court. Tall, slender, almost nonchalant. He walked slowly.
He stopped in the center. The sun reflected off his dark, sweat-glistening skin. He wore a black tank top with no number.
Jay.
The new captain.
A senior who arrived last year, whose legend had quickly grown: agile, powerful, calm. A force no one had ever seen lose a duel.
"Let’s try the new guy," he said calmly, almost playfully, tossing the ball to Hugo.
The tone shifted.
Jay didn’t run. He glided. He didn’t jump. He floated. His first move was lightning-fast. He dribbled, went behind Hugo’s back, spun, and sank a shot without hesitation.
Hugo grimaced but responded. He recovered the ball, attempted an aggressive dribble, went right, crossed left... But Jay was already waiting. A clean block. A humiliation.
Jay accelerated. He devoured the distance. A double crossover, a spin, and a step-back. Another basket.
"Tss... You think you’re the best?" Hugo muttered, breathless, hands on his knees, gaze fixed on the ground.
His veins bulged on his arms, his forehead glistened with sweat. He was out of breath.
"Alright, last play," Jay announced calmly.
He took the ball. Drove left, as if to go around Hugo. Hugo tried to intercept, but Jay violently crossed inside. Hugo reacted. He jumped, anticipating a dunk. But on contact, Jay pushed him in the air with terrifying power.
Hugo crashed to the ground.
"Damn... What the hell are you?"
Jay approached, picked up the ball with one hand, extended the other to him.
"You can consider the king of the jungle." He smiled slightly. "A lone wolf like you... can’t beat ."
"Tsss—a crappy taphor."
Hugo gritted his teeth but took his hand. Jay pulled him up effortlessly, as if lifting an empty bag.
He returned to the bench, breathless, gaze distant.
He was good. Very good. But against Jay, it was like playing against a steel wall. He’d need more than good cardio. He’d need to transform.
He then noticed the figure beside him.
"Hey, you—"
But the girl had already stood up.
Confident stride, cold gaze. Kathy.
She wasn’t just anyone. One of the best players on the girls’ team. Untouchable in mixed gas. Her reputation preceded her.
"...O-okay..." Hugo muttered.
He rubbed his neck, still a bit dazed. He sighed deeply. His body scread fatigue. He stretched, his muscles numb.
"Ah, Katrina. Long ti no see," he said, seeing Kathy’s twin sister sit beside him.
Unlike her sister, Katrina always wore a warm smile. The kind of presence that soothes.
"You did well earlier," she said.
"Arh, you wanna console ’cause I lost to Jay? That bastard’s got monster strength."
"Ahah, maybe, but it was impressive. I’d love to see you two on the sa team."
"Fat chance!"
"Well... if you say so..."
There was a light silence.
"By the way, why’s your sister so sour?"
Katrina burst into laughter.
"Ahaha, how would I know? She’s always been like that."
"Hmm... she reminds of a friend."
’Testing the waters to see if this guy’s got a shot with that sourpuss,’ Hugo thought.
"Who’s that? Ben?"
"No. But you seem to know him well."
"Makes sense. Sabrina only talks about him nonstop. I feel like I’m in their relationship."
They both laughed.
"Actually, I was talking about Kaiser. You know, the zombie-looking guy."
"Ahaha, I see who you an. He’s got a bit of a mysterious side, that’s true."
"Mysterious? He’s just a junkie in withdrawal."
"A junkie?"
"Nah, it’s just his nickna. To ss with him."
"Hmmmm? He’s on drugs?" she asked, intrigued.
"..."
"He didn’t seem like that type. Appearances are really deceiving," Katrina comnted with a small, complicit laugh.
Hugo smiled, a bit embarrassed.
But if there was one thing he knew, it was that if Kaiser had been there... he would’ve slapped Hugo rcilessly for snitching like that.
All for a girl.
That son of a bitch deserved the stake.
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