CHAPTER 47: ONE HOLE, TOO MANY SCORES

Jazz, with her Amazon build, snagged the ball first, no contest.

She palmed it like it was nothing and whipped it down the court, straight at Jinzo. No hesitation, just pure muscle memory.

Instant chaos, Blacklist scattered, gears already turning for their first play.

But Jinzo didn’t even follow.

He just stood there, dribbling the ball between his hands. Nash stood in front of him, the two staring each other down like it was a contest.

A slow smirk crept across Jinzo’s face. He let the ball bounce once, then just... softly shoved it over to Nash.

"I’ll spot you the first move," he called out, voice carrying over the crowd. "Let’s pretend it’s a fair fight before I mop the floor with you."

A wave of confused noise rolled through the court. Even Blacklist looked thrown.

Jinzo crossed his arms, totally unbothered.

"Go on. Show me what all that trash talk’s worth—"

Suddenly, wind in his face.

Rubber hammered the backboard.

The ball hit the rim, spun, and dropped clean. The net barely moved.

1-0.

The crowd froze, one could feel the air get sucked out of the place.

Zayela blinked like she’d missed a frame. Blacklist stared at their own hoop. Even the manager’s jaw went slack.

Jinzo’s head turned slow, like maybe he was stuck in some bad dream. Nash hadn’t even budged.

He was still standing straight as a post, arm outstretched, fingers splayed like he’d just flicked a rock across a pond.

Disorder Shoot.

"A handicap?" Nash cocked his head, eyebrow up.

Jinzo’s jaw clenched, his head giving the tiniest shake.

Nash dropped his arm, all casual.

"You don’t even know how many handicaps you’re up against, man."

And just like that, the place exploded. Phones whipped out, silence shattered, replaced by a wall of cheers.

Jinzo barely had time to shoot Nash a dirty look before Blacklist scrambled to grab the rebound.

Jazz was already on it, snatching the ball and hurling it down the court like she had a train to catch.

Mac and Drex, the two NPC, were on autopilot, running plays like they’d been programmed at birth.

Screens, corner shifts, just ping-ponging the ball until it landed right back in Jinzo’s hands.

And just like a bad penny, there was Nash. Hanging around, waiting, almost smug.

Jinzo’s jaw tightened so much you could probably hear his molars grinding from half-court. He dribbled, eyes glued to Nash.

"Don’t get cocky," he muttered, low. "You think I’m a freebie?"

He went for a crossover. Quick, tight, almost nasty.

But Nash didn’t even twitch.

It was like his brain hit slow-motion. He spotted Jinzo’s heel slip, weight off-balance, and then... his hand shot out like a snake biting.

Ball gone.

Jinzo tried to snatch it back, but the ball bounced away behind Nash’s foot like it had somewhere better to be.

"LET’S GOOOO!" someone bellowed, and then the whole court blew up.

Nash was already halfway down the court, sneakers squeaking, crowd roaring like it was the playoffs, and in a way, it was. It was his big day.

Mac and Drex tried to chase him down, but Nash moved like a flash. He didn’t even look like he was sprinting, he was just... gone.

Jazz planted herself in front of the basket, arms wide, looking like she could block out the sun.

Nash didn’t even try to drive, face to someone with this physic, it was pointless. He just flicked his eyes left.

R-Cloud, his teammate, barely noticed the ball until it slapped his palm with a WHAP.

He blinked, then just chucked up a three like he didn’t even know what he was doing.

The arc was ugly, the silence too.

And then, swish.

Net barely even moved.

2-0.

The place went wilder. People yelling, jumping, losing their minds. Even R-Cloud looked shocked, stood there frozen, then pointed right at Nash.

Yeah, that was all Nash again

The manager crossed her arms under her chest, brows furrowed.

Her eyes didn’t leave Nash. She was analyzing every twitch, every motion. Like she was watching a weapon wake up.

Meanwhile, Zayela was hanging at the edge of the court, practically sparkling.

Every time Nash did anything, even just breathing, she sucked in a breath like she was seeing magic for the first time. He wasn’t just playing, he was owning it.

Ridiculously fast, razor-sharp, pulling moves like he had cheat codes, which he was technically.

He just flowed.

She’d never actually watched him play before. That was her first time

The way he moved, you’d swear he was stitched together from basketball nets and hardwood.

Zero hesitation, not even a hint of wasted motion. Just pure energy and smoothness.

Nash snatched the ball at midcourt. Jinzo and Drex tried to crash in, close off his path.

Nope. Too slow.

Nash just dropped low, legs coiling up and exploded forward, dragging them with him. He squeezed through the tiniest gap, spun, then whipped a bullet pass across the court so fast it might’ve left scorch marks.

The teammate barely had time to react, but he caught it and laid it up.

3-0.

The crowd was straight-up losing their minds now, screaming, jumping, chanting like they’d all hit the lottery at once.

Nash jetted left, then slammed on the brakes. Drex, probably guessing another sprint, kept going like a runaway train.

But not this time.

His foot caught, and he went down on all fours, like one of his girls.

The place exploded.

5-0.

Zayela slapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide

She was watching something rare. Her heart beat louder in her chest. That was her Nash. The one who walked her here, now turning into some kind of legend.

Now he stood at the top of the court, face to face with Jazz.

The Amazon braced, teeth grinding. She was all muscle and power, but Nash had something more than talents.

He had dribbling skills.

He dropped into a low stance, ball bouncing steady, like it was synced to his pulse.

Then, he jab-stepped left, shifted low like he was cutting inside, then twisted hard on his heel and rolled the ball behind his back with a flick.

Jazz bit on the fake too fast. Her weight pitched forward. Her ankle wobbled.

Jazz’s feet got all tangled up. She buckled and fell right onto her butt.

Nash stopped in front of her.

Jazz stared up at him, hands shaking.

Nash stopped in front of her. He bounced the ball once, then again. Then he stepped back, planted his feet, and flicked his wrist.

The ball soared, clean and fast, and sank through the net.

6-0.

The match only got worse for Blacklist.

After Nash’s shot dropped cleanly, the ball was reset, but the atmosphere had shifted. Blacklist looked rattled.

The crowd smelled like blood.

Jinzo called the next play, shouting at Mac and Drex to tighten their defense. His voice cracked slightly.

"MOVE! Get your feet under you!"

They scrambled, but Nash had already repositioned himself, moving like a shadow.

He intercepted the inbound pass before it even touched Drex’s fingers, then launched it behind his back to a teammate sprinting the lane.

Easy layup.

7–0.

Jinzo stomped.

"Are you even looking?! Are you blind?!"

Mac hunched, panting. Drex bent forward, grabbing at his shorts.

"We’re getting cooked out here!" Jinzo shouted again. "Wake up you idiots!"

Blacklist reset again, slower this time. They passed wide, then cut inside, trying to regain rhythm.

Nothing worked.

Every angle was choked. Nash appeared like a ghost wherever the ball went, either intercepting, contesting, or redirecting play. Every time Blacklist made progress, he stole it.

10–0.

Another score, this time Nash assisting a clean dunk after a misdirection play. The court roared.

Jinzo grabbed at his hair.

"GUARD SOMEONE!"

He turned to Nia.

"Say something! Help!"

But Nia walked casually around, barely paying any attention to the game.

Jinzo huffed, turning red in the face.

"You think this is a joke?!"

He tried a solo push, dribbling past two defenders, only for Nash to slide in clean from the side, strip the ball, and throw a one-handed alley-oop behind him.

Another point.

12–0.

Zayela clapped once, hard, then covered her mouth as a giddy laugh slipped through.

The crowd was screaming his name now.

Jinzo tried again. He passed to Drex, who fumbled. The ball skidded across the concrete and landed at Nia’s feet.

She caught it smoothly.

The noise died.

Jinzo turned toward her.

"Come on. Let’s get something back."

Nia looked at him, quiet.

She glanced around. Her team looked done, deflated, sweating with their eyes wide.

Then she looked at Nash.

He wasn’t even tired.

She sighed and bounced the ball once.

"Wasting my time." She murmured.

Nash caught the ball on the next reset and moved quickly, splitting Drex and Mac with two slick steps.

As the defense collapsed, he planted and flicked a Disorder Shoot from just inside the arc, off balance, mid-motion.

It swirled and hit the rim.

Clunk.

Missed.

The rebound hit hard but Nash was already tracking it. He jumped in ahead of Jinzo, grabbed the ball with one hand, pivoted, then fired another Disorder Shoot from the baseline.

Nothing but net.

14–0.

Jinzo slammed his fist into the fence.

"MOVE YOUR ASSES!"

The next play was chaos. Mac tried to go solo, only to be blocked clean by Nash. Ball back in his hand, Nash danced around Drex, hesitated at the three-point line, then spun and launched another Disorder Shoot mid-spin.

This one bricked. Jaz caught the rebound and looked to pass, but Nash moved first, tipped it mid-air, stole it again, and this time passed behind his back to a waiting teammate who dunked it.

16–0.

Jinzo’s face was pure frustration. He yelled at Mac again, who looked too gassed to respond. Drex was on his knees, catching breath.

Then came another blitz.

Nash faked a drive, slipped around Drex again, and sent another instant pass through the legs of Mac to a teammate in the corner.

Splash.

19–0.

Jinzo tried to rally, charging in on the next play, but Nash snatched the ball out of his hands like taking candy from a kid, took three steps, and lobbed another Disorder Shoot.

Off the backboard, into the rim.

21–0.

Jinzo reset with shaking hands. He didn’t shout this time. His lips were tight, and his eyes were glossed with frustration.

He faked a call, drove wide, then suddenly lobbed the ball toward Jaz, hoping for an assist to break the curse.

But it never reached her.

A clean snap echoed across the court as a hand intercepted the pass mid-air.

The manager.

She stood just inside the sideline, holding the ball in one hand like it weighed nothing. Her other hand adjusted her glasses as she glanced at Jinzo.

"That’s enough."