CHAPTER 185: CHAPTER 172: STRAT AND ANNOUNCEMENT

The gym echoed with the sound of bouncing balls and sneakers screeching against polished wood. But something was different. The energy was raw. It pulsed — not just with anticipation, but with something deeper.

Resolve.

Coach Fred stood at the center of the court, whistle hanging from his neck, clipboard in hand. Beside him, Ayumi was arranging printed scouting reports on a folding table, stacks of laminated player profiles and match-up sheets ready to distribute.

Lucas stood tall in front of the team, still wearing his sweat-soaked practice jersey. His breath was steady, but his eyes were sharp — filled with fire.

"Listen up, team." Lucas’s voice rang out. "We’re not just playing anymore. We’re fighting — for Ethan, and for what he stood for."

Everyone went quiet.

Louie looked down at the court, jaw clenched. Coonie tugged at his wristband nervously. Evan stood with arms crossed, eyes locked on Lucas. Josh was already nodding. Aiden cracked his knuckles.

Coach Fred stepped forward. "As of today, the strategy’s shifting. Nationals are a different beast. And our first opponent is no joke."

Ayumi tapped the whiteboard as she pulled down a screen. A projected logo appeared: an evergreen tree with a basketball at its roots. A name followed.

First Battle: Evergreen Middle – "Forest Basket"

Region: Pacific Northwest

Style: Zone Defense / High-IQ Play

MVP:Elijah Rainn (PG, "Forest Watcher")

Lucas narrowed his eyes. He remembered the tapes.

"They don’t play fast. They play smart." he muttered.

Coach Fred nodded, pointing to the board.

"Exactly. Forest Basket is known for their tight 2-3 zone. They force you to take bad shots and turn rebounds into fast breaks."

Ayumi added, "Their captain, Elijah Rainn, is not just their best passer — he’s their eyes. He reads the court like a book."

Basketball IQ: Top

Court Vision: Top

Steal Rate: Top

"He’s their ’Forest Watcher’ for a reason," Coach Fred said grimly. "He stalks the weak links and cuts passing lanes like they’re vines."

Jeremy muttered, "So what’s the plan, Coach?"

Coach Fred glanced at Lucas.

Lucas stepped forward, the light catching the sweat on his brow. He took a deep breath.

"We attack the roots, not the leaves."

The team blinked.

"Meaning?" Ryan asked.

Lucas looked around, pacing slowly. "Their zone depends on spacing. We move fast — not recklessly, but precisely. Short passes. Diagonal cuts. We shift their defense before they even realize it."

Ayumi passed around a folder titled: "Zone Breaker Drills."

Coach Fred smirked. "This is Ethan’s idea. The same playset he taught Ayumi and Lucas during individual drills. We call it ’Cascade.’"

Lucas nodded. "Cascade uses triangle motion — keep the ball in motion, force mismatches. Louie, you’ll draw help defenders. Evan and I hit the open seams.

Brandon and Ryan screen at the elbows. Josh spots up corner. Coonie, you fill the gaps."

Louie raised a brow. "So we’re not just attacking the basket?"

"We’re unrooting the forest," Lucas said firmly.

Josh chuckled. "Damn, that sounds cold."

Aiden grinned. "Ethan would love that."

Coach Fred held up his hand.

"One more thing." His voice grew solemn. "Ethan’s name will still be called during games. He’s part of this team. No matter what."

Everyone stood still.

"So we’re playing six on five?"

Evan said with a small smirk

.

"More like... ten on five," Lucas muttered, glancing at the empty bleachers.

In his mind, he saw Ethan sitting there with his legs crossed, smiling, nodding at the plan.

"(Watch us, Ethan... We’re going to make it.)"

Ayumi stepped forward. "Everyone, we’ve got new training gear, too. Thanks to our sponsors. Let’s treat every day from now like it’s game day. No more half-effort drills."

Coach Fred nodded. "This is the Nationals. There’s no next time if we screw this up."

Lucas looked at his teammates. He clenched his fist.

"Then let’s not screw it up."

And as the buzzer sounded to start the next drill, the players scattered — running sharper, passing quicker, shouting louder.

Without Ethan on the court — but never without Ethan in their hearts.

Meanwhile... in the Evergreen Forest 🍃

Pacific Northwest – Evergreen Middle’s Private Training Facility

The gym was quiet—almost too quiet. Not because there weren’t players on the court...

But because they moved like ghosts.

No sneakers squeaked. No one called out.

Just the subtle thump of the ball and the gentle swish of the net.

At the center of it all was Elijah Rainn, the "Forest Watcher."

...

Elijah Rainn – The Forest Watcher

Position: Point Guard

Height: 5’9"

Elijah dribbled the ball once, then stood completely still.

He closed his eyes.

"Zone formation: Curl top, push Kael on the weak side. Ayden rotates baseline... now."

His teammates adjusted instantly without a word.

He opened his eyes.

"Execute."

He tossed a no-look bounce pass through a narrow seam—perfect timing.

Micah caught it in full motion and launched a three.

Swish.

Coach Nguyen whispered from the sidelines,

"His vision... it’s like watching wind bend the trees."

...

Micah Vale – The Quiet Flame

Position: Shooting Guard

Height: 5’8"

Micah didn’t speak.

He never had to.

He floated through screens, curled tight around Tobias’s shoulder, and caught the ball mid-step. His form was perfect—fluid, fast, silent.

One dribble. Pull-up. Net.

Again.

Again.

Elijah murmured,

"No words. Just buckets."

Micah nodded, and ran again.

....

Kael Moreno – The Trail Phantom

Position: Small Forward

Height:

5’9"

Kael disappeared behind the defense.

Literally.

One second, he was at the arc. The next, he was under the rim—cutting like a wisp of smoke.

Tobias flicked a pass over the top—Kael caught and spun midair for the reverse layup.

"You don’t see him..." Ayden said from the baseline.

"You just feel the score change."

Kael grinned briefly, then vanished into another cut.

...

Tobias "Toby" Grey – Stonebark

Position: Power Forward

Height: 5’10"

Toby planted his feet.

Micah slammed into him mid-sprint during a practice drill bounced back like he’d hit a boulder.

"You good?" Toby asked calmly.

Micah shook his head, laughing silently. Then nodded.

He got back into position.

Tobias held his stance again.

His screen was a wall. His box out was a tree trunk. His presence didn’t move.

"He holds the line," Coach Nguyen said, "like an ancient oak."

..

Ayden Liu – The Quiet Sky

Position: Center

Height: 6’0"

Ayden stepped out of the paint and raised one hand.

A teammate drove. Ayden waited.

Then jumped.

Time slowed.

He hovered—longer than gravity should allow—and tapped the shot away with a feather-light block.

"Sky Curtain," Elijah murmured.

"You shoot... and then the air closes above you."

Ayden landed. Silently. No chest-thumping. No pose.

He turned, reset his feet, and waited for the next challenge.

The Forest Awakens

The five gathered at midcourt, calm... still.

Their zone defense shifted as they moved.

Like branches adjusting to wind.

No gaps. No chaos. Just rhythm.

From the sidelines, Coach Nguyen nodded once.

"Let the forest guide the flow."

Elijah spun the ball on one finger.

"First match... Vorpal Basket. Stay rooted. Stay quiet."

He looked toward the gym doors, as if he could see his opponents already.

"The louder they shout... the harder they fall."

....

Meanwhile, back at the hospital...

The soft rhythm of the heart monitor was the only sound that filled the quiet room.

The white curtains danced lightly against the breeze from the half-opened window.

And in the center of the room, Ethan lay unmoving his body still, but his presence heavy in the air.

Charlotte Graves sat at his bedside, hands gently folded on her lap, her eyes never leaving Ethan’s face.

Her voice was soft, almost a whisper.

"Come back to us, Ethan..."

She leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You didn’t even get to play in Nationals. Everyone’s waiting."

Her throat tightened slightly.

"I’m waiting."

Just then—the door creaked open.

Charlotte turned.

It was Elle Albarado, Ethan’s mother.

She stepped inside, her arms slightly open, holding a tote bag filled with children’s paper crafts and alphabet cards. Her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, but her smile remained gentle.

"I’m sorry for the wait, Charlotte," Elle said as she closed the door behind her.

"The kids in the kindergarten are so hard to handle today. I didn’t think finger painting could start a war."

Charlotte chuckled softly, standing to help her.

"It’s okay, Auntie... don’t worry about it. I know it’s hard to be a teacher."

Elle set the bag on the table beside Ethan’s bed and let out a sigh, glancing down at her sleeping son. Her fingers reached out, gently brushing Ethan’s hair back.

"Hard... but nothing compared to this."

The two stood there in silence for a moment, both watching the boy they loved.

Charlotte whispered,

"He always carried the team even when no one noticed. He never gave up—so he won’t now."

Elle nodded, blinking quickly to hide the tears that threatened to fall.

"He’s strong. Just like his father was."

Charlotte looked back at Ethan and smiled faintly.

"And just like his mother."

The silence settled again, warm this time... hopeful.

..

Meanwhile Location: BAC – U.S. Division (Basketball Asian Company Headquarters, Los Angeles)

In the sleek, glass-walled studio overlooking the city skyline, a tense silence hung in the air.

LED panels flashed with game highlights and stat overlays, but the mood was far from professional today.

At the analyst desk sat Alfred Albarado, former international basketball champion and now one of BAC’s most respected voices in the sport. Gray had touched his temples, but his presence remained as sharp and commanding as ever until now.

"This is not how we do this!"

Alfred’s voice echoed across the studio, slamming his fist lightly against the desk.

A few heads turned.

One of the veteran analysts, a colleague from Alfred’s earlier career days, looked up from his tablet.

"What’s wrong, Alfred? That’s not like you."

Alfred rubbed his temple, the tired lines under his eyes more visible under the studio lights.

"I’m sorry... I must be under stress due to... what happened to my son."

His voice cracked ever so slightly.

Across the room, the younger analyst barely in his 20s, fresh-faced and eager—swallowed hard.

"I’m really sorry, sir... Has the perpetrator who shot him been caught?"

Alfred’s expression darkened.

"No," he said firmly. "As of now, there are still no clues."

The room fell into a hushed pause. No one quite knew what to say. Alfred had always been composed, professional, even charismatic on live TV. But this was personal. Deeply.

And yet...

None of them knew the truth.

What no one in that room—nor the public—understood was this:

Ethan Albarado was not comatose because of a gunshot wound to the head.

That was the official report, the one released to media outlets and news programs.

But in truth?

Ethan’s body lay still... because his mind was somewhere else.

Inside his mind, an entire court had been built, a battlefield of skill, sweat, and growth.

A realm where time moved differently. Where every shot, pass, and decision was magnified.

He was undergoing rigorous training inside his own consciousness, powered by the Basketball System he had awakened.

To be continue