CHAPTER 253: CHAPTER 240: VORPAL VS HARBOR KINGS (7)

The horn still echoed as both squads disappeared down their tunnels, leaving the scoreboard glowing above the noise.

Vorpal 66 – Harbor 53.

But the energy didn’t die down. If anything, it pulsed hotter. The bleachers were alive—students stomping, fans chanting, parents clapping—but tucked in two distinct corners of the arena, the reactions carried a different weight.

....

Roanoke Storm Section

Kagetsu Renjiro sat with his arms folded, posture calm, but his sharp eyes never left the court. Even as the halftime performances began, he leaned slightly forward, analyzing every flicker of Lucas Graves’s golden gaze.

"So that’s how far he’s come..." Renjiro murmured, his voice low, almost reverent.

Marcus Daniels, sitting beside him, huffed.

"Man, that Sunshine kid... he was already tough when they beat us. Now he’s copying everything? What the hell is that?"

Tyrese Caldwell adjusted his hoodie, his jaw tight.

"It ain’t copying. Look closer—he’s owning it. Dude’s not just using their moves, he’s stringing them together. That’s dangerous."

Dante Walker, arms resting heavily on his knees, couldn’t hold back his growl.

"Tch. Ethan’s just sitting there. Not even playing the first half. Like he doesn’t need to. That arrogance pisses me off."

Kagetsu’s gaze flicked toward Dante, his tone quiet but cutting.

"It’s not arrogance. It’s patience. You can feel it too, right? Ethan’s holding back because he’s preparing. He doesn’t waste energy on meaningless battles."

Dante clenched his fists, but no rebuttal came. He had felt it—the chill in Ethan’s calm, the calculation in his narrowed eyes.

Coach Halter, seated a row back, leaned forward and joined in, his voice gravelly.

"Storm, remember this sight. Vorpal isn’t a team carried by one prodigy anymore. Lucas is blooming. Ethan is waiting. If they fuse their strengths by the Finals..."

He let the thought hang, grim but tinged with a spark of challenge.

"...Then we’d better be ready to meet fire with fire."

Malik Okafor cracked his knuckles, grinning despite the tension.

"Big talk, Coach. But I like it. If we face them again, I want that Graves kid under the rim. See if he can mimic my weight."

Renjiro finally allowed himself the faintest smirk, his tone sharp with respect.

"Lucas Graves. Ethan Albarado. If Vorpal reaches the Grand Arena, then so will Roanoke. And when that day comes our rematch won’t be about survival."

His eyes glinted.

"It’ll be about proving whose flame burns brighter."

....

Thunderhawks Section

Not far from Roanoke, a cluster of voices rose high with excitement the Oak Hill girls’ team, the Thunderhawks.

Charlotte Graves Lucas’s older cousin was on her feet, hands cupped around her mouth.

"That’s my cousin! Did you see that step-back three? He stole Clamps’ ankles and then cashed it!"

Izzy Moreno laughed, slapping Charlotte’s shoulder.

"Girl, you’ve been screaming since the first quarter. We all saw it!"

Lena Kowalski crossed her arms, smiling wryly.

"Can’t blame her, though. Lucas is shining out there. And Louie? That boy looks like he was born for streetball chaos."

Sakura Tanaka leaned back, arms behind her head, her calm voice cutting through.

"No, look deeper. Lucas isn’t just shining. He’s syncing. He’s in tune with Louie’s rhythm, with the court itself. It’s... different. Like a musician finding his perfect harmony."

Carmen "The Tiger" Delgado, towering in her seat, grinned wide.

"Harmony or not, that and-one reverse was straight beast mode. If Harbor thought they could bully Vorpal, they’re learning the hard way."

Eva Johansson tugged at Carmen’s jersey, chuckling.

"Careful, Carmen. You sound like a fan."

"So what?" Carmen shot back. "We share the same school. They rep Oak Hill too. Vorpal’s wins make Thunderhawks shine brighter too."

Natalie "Nattie" Carter nodded eagerly, eyes sparkling.

"Facts. Everyone in the arena is talking about them. Imagine when Nationals broadcast it—Oak Hill will be famous for both boys and girls."

Mina El-Sayed, however, was quieter, her dark eyes studying the court with a sharper edge.

"Fame is nice. But remember if they burn too bright now, the monsters waiting in Nationals will see everything. Ethan knows that. That’s why he’s still sitting."

Jasmine Williams leaned closer, lowering her voice.

"So you’re saying... Ethan’s protecting his playbook?"

Mina nodded slowly.

"Exactly. Harbor is strong, but they’re not the endgame. Ethan’s waiting for when it truly matters. That’s why his calm feels... scarier than Lucas’s fire."

Clara van der Meer, quiet until now, finally murmured.

"...It’s strange. When I watch Vorpal, I don’t feel like I’m watching middle schoolers. It’s like I’m already watching the future."

The girls fell silent for a moment, the weight of her words settling.

Charlotte finally broke it with a fierce grin, voice cutting sharp as her cousin’s three-pointer.

"Future or not, that’s my cousin out there. And the world’s about to learn—when a Graves shines, you don’t look away."

The Thunderhawks cheered, their voices adding to the roar of the bleachers.

And so, as halftime swallowed the court in a rush of whistles, cheers, and drums, it wasn’t just Vorpal vs Harbor anymore.

The whole gym rivals, allies, scouts, enemies felt the weight of the blaze Lucas and Ethan were stoking.

And somewhere in that noise, a truth settled deep into every watching heart:

This wasn’t just a game anymore. It was a storm gathering momentum. A storm no one could ignore.

...

In the Harbor Kings – Locker Room, Halftime

The air was thick with sweat and frustration. Sneakers squeaked against tile as players paced, slammed towels, cursed under their breath.

Clamps Lee sat on the bench, head lowered, towel draped over his shoulders. His jaw worked like stone grinding against stone.

"Damn kid..." he muttered, voice tight. "No matter how I read him—he still breaks through." His fists clenched until his knuckles popped.

Jet Step, Jamal threw his water bottle against the wall, exploding water across the lockers.

"He’s not supposed to keep up with us! That street rat and Sunshine punk—how the hell are they running circles around us?"

Malik, towering and furious, slammed his palms on the bench so hard it rattled.

"They’re syncing now. Louie and Lucas. One moves, the other reacts—like they’re the same damn player. If we don’t stop it—"

"—Enough."

Sora Nakamura’s voice sliced through the chaos. She hadn’t raised her tone, but the room went silent anyway.

She stood at the whiteboard, clipboard snapped shut, eyes sharp as a blade.

"You’re angry. Good. But anger without precision is useless."

Her gaze locked on Clamps first.

"Clamps. You are not failing. Lucas Graves is no longer just copying, he’s adapting. That means his flow can be broken, not his instinct. Stop reading him. Start disrupting his connection. Pressure the passing lanes, not his body. Force him to isolate."

Clamps raised his head, scowl softening into reluctant focus. "...Cut the link."

"Exactly."

She turned to Jet, whose chest still heaved.

"Jamal. You’ve been so obsessed with outpacing Lucas that you’re forgetting the basics. Your speed isn’t for pride, it’s for disruption. Attack early, attack before they sync. Drag him where he can’t mirror you, baseline traps, weak side."

Jet bit down on his lip, then gave a small nod.

"Malik." She turned to the big man. "You’re crashing strong, but Vorpal’s bench is feeding off second chances. I want you to anchor, deny every putback, own the boards. No rebounds, no rhythm."

Malik’s nostrils flared, but he nodded, pounding his chest once.

Finally, she swept her gaze across the whole team.

"They think they’ve found fire. But fire only burns until it meets the ocean. And we—" she tapped the board with the tip of her pen, a sharp click— "we are the tide. They will flare bright, then we drown them."

The Harbor locker room fell quiet, the earlier anger simmering into something colder, sharper.

Clamps stood, towel falling to the floor, eyes hard again.

"Cut the link. Kill the rhythm."

Jet cracked his knuckles.

"Drag him out before he finds his shine."

Malik growled, low and dangerous.

"And no damn rebounds."

Sora finally allowed the faintest of smirks, closing her pen with a snap.

"Good. Now go remind them who the Kings really are."

At the same time in the vorpal..

The room smelled of sweat and victory, but the energy was electric buzzing, alive. Vorpal had a lead, yet everyone knew Harbor wasn’t done.

Josh was the loudest, bouncing in place, towel whipping over his head.

"Yo! Did you see that reverse? Lucas out here breaking physics! We’re up, baby! They can’t stop us!"

Ryan leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his damp hair, flashing his trademark grin like he was posing for imaginary cameras.

"Bro, Harbor’s shaking. Did you see Clamps’ face? Man looked like his crush just left him on read. That’s how bad we cooked him."

Coonie snorted, stretching his legs across the bench, sarcasm dripping.

"Yeah, yeah. Real impressive. Half a game in and you two sound like ESPN highlight reels. News flash: Harbor still breathing, genius. You want confetti, wait ’til the fourth."

Josh threw a towel at him. "Man, shut up!"

But Lucas wasn’t laughing—he was breathing deep, golden eyes glowing even under the dim locker lights. He sat forward, elbows on his knees, voice low but fierce.

"They’re learning me. I can feel it. But I’m not done. Every move they throw, Jet’s step, Clamps’ pressure, Malik’s muscle, it’s mine. I’ll take it all. Fuse it. Break them with their own game."

Louie slapped his chest, grinning wide, energy contagious.

"Hell yeah you will! Sunshine and Street, baby, we got them dancing already! They can’t stop what they can’t read!"

Ayumi had been scribbling furiously the whole time, glasses slipping slightly down her nose as her pencil scratched across the clipboard. Finally, she raised her head, voice clear, cutting through the noise.

"Listen. Harbor is going to clamp down. They’ll pressure Lucas harder not to stop him, but to sever your connection, Louie. Expect traps in the lanes, deny passes, baseline force."

Lucas and Louie exchanged a quick look. Louie clicked his tongue.

"They wanna break us apart? Cute."

Ayumi nodded. "So, you adapt. Don’t force the sync disguise it. Switch tempos. Louie, go decoy sometimes. Lucas, work the weak side and keep spacing. If they can’t predict when you connect, they can’t cut it."

Evan, calm as always, spoke next, fingers drumming against his knee.

"That means I gotta be the stabilizer. If their press comes high, I’ll control the entry points. No panic passes, no dumb turnovers. They feed off chaos, so I’ll slow it down until we’re ready to break it again."

Ryan stretched, smirking, voice playful but sharp.

"And I’ll be the beauty they can’t ignore. Flash cuts, corner threes, let ’em chase me while Lucas burns them."

"Chickboy out here thinking he’s a distraction model," Coonie muttered, rolling his eyes.

"But fine. I’ll be the sass in their face. Talk, poke, get in their heads while you all work. Someone’s gotta rattle their cool."

Aiden spoke last, voice steady, fire steady in his chest.

"Harbor’s physical. Malik, Diesel, Wave, they’ll try to bully us in the paint. So I’ll keep crashing, keep fighting. No easy boards. No fear."

Josh pumped a fist.

"Yeah! No fear! If they want war—we’ll bring war!"

Ayumi pushed her glasses up, a rare spark in her tone.

"Exactly. Harbor will drown us if we lose focus. But if we stay connected, brains, chaos, rhythm, fire then we’re the storm they can’t contain."

Coach Fred nodded and said "yes... that’s true"

Ethan, who had been silent until now, leaned forward from the back. His voice was calm, but every word carried weight.

"Harbor will adjust. That’s what strong teams do. But remember... adjustments cut both ways. Don’t burn all your weapons now. Second half is survival. Fourth quarter is the kill. Make them bleed but don’t let them see all your fangs yet."

The room quieted, every player absorbing his words.

Lucas finally stood, sweat dripping, chest heaving. His grin was sharp as firelight.

"Second half—we shine brighter. Louie, you ready?"

Louie pounded his fist against Lucas’s.

"Always."

Ryan smirked. "Time to break hearts."

Coonie shrugged. "Time to break egos."

Evan nodded. "Time to stay steady."

Aiden’s eyes burned. "Time to fight."

Josh shouted. "Time to WIN!"

The buzzer in the hall echoed.

Vorpal rose as one, fire surging through every step.

The second half was waiting.

And Vorpal wasn’t just surviving, they were ready to blaze.

To be continue