Extra Basket-Chapter 133 - 120: The Next Step

4:30 PM

Graves Family Gymnasium

The golden afternoon sun filtered through the high windows of the Graves gym. Dust particles danced in the light, a quiet contrast to the fire building inside the room.

I stood at the front, arms crossed, eyes locked onto the players sitting and standing around me.

My team.

Some still catching their breath after the drills. Others drinking from water bottles, beads of sweat trailing down their foreheads.

This was us.

Vorpal Basket.

Once mocked, now moving.

"Now that we passed the qualifier phase," I began, my voice calm but sharp, "let’s move on to Step 2: The Division Cup."

Their eyes locked on mine tension, excitement, and uncertainty all brewing.

I stepped closer, holding up four fingers.

"There will be four regions."

North – 16 teams

South – 16 teams

East – 16 teams

West – 16 teams

"Only one team from each region will advance to the National Finals."

Coonie Smith tilted his head and asked, "So... where will it be held? The Division Cup?"

I smirked, stepping back.

"August 10."

A moment of silence followed. The date rang like a bell in everyone’s mind.

Barely two weeks away.

I paced slowly in front of them, making sure they understood the weight of it.

"We don’t have much time left," I said. "That’s why starting tomorrow—we enter the next phase of training. We’ll be ramping everything up: stamina, game sense, advanced play styles. No wasted movements. No wasted days."

Lucas stood up, towel around his neck, sweat soaking his jersey. His yellow eyes locked onto mine.

"Ethan... what’s it gonna be?"

Everyone turned to look at me.

I clenched my fists.

"It’s going to be hell."

"But if we survive it... we’re not just the team that ’finally won a game’ anymore."

"We’ll be the team no one saw coming... until it was too late."

Evan leaned back and let out a low whistle.

Josh bumped his fists together.

Ryan nodded with a slight grin.

Brandon cracked his neck, as if ready for war.

Aiden’s gaze hardened.

Louie Gee Davas, still bouncing his knee with restless energy, grinned wide.

This was our moment.

And I wasn’t going to let us waste it.

..

Meanwhile, deep underground in a shadowy hideout, silence hung thick like a shroud.

A figure wearing a sheep mask stood tall and still, the dim light catching the eerie curve of the mask’s hollow eyes.

Before him, Akni Baduh a sharp-eyed, imposing man in his fifties, his face etched with years of hardened resolve stood quietly, his dark skin marked by faint scars, and his gaze unwavering.

Sheep’s voice, cold and mocking, broke the silence.

"Oh, Akni... Akni... Akni... tss, tss, tss..."

Akni’s voice was steady but tired.

"I already did what you said. I made sure nothing happens to our organization."

A slow, cruel smile crept across Sheep’s hidden face.

"You did your job, Akni. But that’s exactly why you need to die."

Without hesitation, Sheep’s hand moved with deadly precision. The cold barrel of a gun emerged from beneath his cloak and pressed firmly against Akni’s temple.

The silence shattered with a sharp, deafening shot.

Akni’s body crumpled, lifeless. The echo bounced off the concrete walls, swallowed quickly by darkness.

Sheep stared down at the fallen man for a long moment expression unreadable behind the mask before turning silently and disappearing deeper into the shadows.

....

Ethan Pov

The gym was alive with the sharp sounds of sneakers pounding the polished hardwood, the rhythmic echo of basketballs bouncing, and the occasional thud of a missed shot hitting the rim or backboard. The smell of sweat mixed with the faint scent of rubber from the court. I stood near the sideline, arms crossed, eyes scanning every movement of my team.

Today’s training was focused on the basic footwork, coordination, and shooting. It wasn’t flashy, but it was the backbone of everything on the court. Without solid footwork, even the best shot or pass falls apart. I could see the strain in their faces the tight jaws, the furrowed brows, the sweat dripping down their necks. They wanted to get better. I had to make sure they did.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself, then called out, "Remember, this isn’t just about moving your feet. It’s about controlling your entire body. Balance. Precision. Speed. You can’t fake those."

Lucas Graves, ever the sharp forward, adjusted his stance quickly and nodded. He wiped the sweat from his brow and dribbled a few steps forward before shooting. The ball arced perfectly and swished through the net.

"Nice shot, Lucas!" I said, a small smile breaking through my usual calm demeanor.

Lucas shot me a grin but quickly returned to his drill.

Nearby, Evan Cooper was running through agility ladders, his feet a blur as he moved through each box. He stopped and looked up, catching my eye.

"How can I speed up my transitions without losing control?"

I walked over and crouched beside him. "It’s all about muscle memory and mental focus. Your body needs to know what to do before your brain tells it. That means drills. Over and over. You don’t just want fast — you want smart speed."

Evan nodded, the determination clear in his eyes. "Got it. More drills."

(That kid’s got potential, but he needs to slow down mentally before he can speed up physically.)

Across the court, Josh Turner was struggling to keep his balance during a pivot drill. His foot slipped slightly, causing him to stumble.

I called him over. "Josh, you’re leaning too far forward. You want your weight centered, knees bent, ready to explode in any direction. Watch me."

I demonstrated a proper pivot low center of gravity, strong base, controlled movements. Josh mirrored my actions, focusing hard.

"Better," I told him, "but you still need to keep your eyes up. If you’re looking at your feet, you’re blind to the game."

He chuckled nervously. "Noted, Coach."

Then came Ryan Taylor and Brandon Young, working together on a passing drill. I watched as Ryan struggled to connect with Brandon, the timing off by milliseconds that made the difference between a clean pass and a turnover.

I stepped in. "Ryan, slow it down just a bit. Brandon, call for the ball earlier. Communication isn’t just yelling, it’s anticipation."

They reset and tried again, this time the pass flying clean into Brandon’s hands.

"Good," I nodded. "Now make it second nature."

Aiden White was practicing his defensive slides, his movements smooth but lacking aggression.

I shouted across to him, "Aiden! Defense is about attitude as much as technique! You’re the wall they have to get through — make them regret every step."

He glared at me, but I could see the fire lighting up in his eyes.

(This kid’s got heart. I like that.)

On the bench, Louie Gee Davas was showing off a few flashy crossovers to Kai Mendoza and Jeremy Park. Louie’s skill was undeniable, but sometimes his ego got the better of him. Kai laughed as Louie smirked.

I shook my head, muttering, "Showmanship won’t win games, Louie."

He caught my eye and shrugged with a cheeky grin. "Coach, I’m just keeping spirits high."

(Maybe a little too high.)

After about an hour, I gathered everyone in a circle. Their chests heaved, sweat dripping down their faces, but their eyes were sharp.

"Listen up," I said, voice firm. "You all passed the qualifier phase, but the Division Cup is a whole different beast. You’re not just playing to survive anymore — you’re playing to dominate."

Lucas stepped forward, voice steady but intense. "Coach, what do we focus on next? We can’t just rely on speed and power."

"Exactly," I nodded. "You need to think three steps ahead. Footwork and coordination give you the tools, but game IQ will let you use them smarter than your opponent. We’ll start adding situational drills — pressure plays, reading defenses, quick decisions."

I looked each of them in the eyes. "This isn’t just about basketball. It’s about proving to yourself you’re worth something. That you can rise above whatever’s holding you back."

Lucas’s jaw clenched, determination radiating off him. (I see you, Lucas. We’re in this together.)

"Got it, Coach," Josh said quietly, nodding.

I smiled slightly, proud but aware of the road ahead. "Alright, back to work. This time, focus on integrating footwork into your shooting. Movement before the shot is everything."

They spread out again, the gym filling with the sounds of bouncing balls, feet sliding, and focused breaths.

I stepped back, watching over them like a guardian. (They’re not just players to me. They’re the future.)

...

After a while, I noticed Louie Gee Davas jogging over toward me. His shirt was soaked through with sweat, and beads dripped down his forehead, but his eyes were burning with excitement — that familiar fire of someone hungry for more.

"Coach Ethan," Louie called out, catching his breath, "you think I can beat Lucas one-on-one soon?"

I couldn’t help but chuckle softly. Louie was confident, maybe a little cocky, but that kind of spirit was what made players great.

"Louie, keep training like this," I said, my voice calm but encouraging, "and maybe one day you’ll give him a real challenge."

He puffed out his chest, chest rising and falling quickly from the hard work, a cocky grin spreading across his face.

"I’m coming for him," he said firmly, full of swagger.

(Good. Let that rivalry push you both.) I thought, watching him with a mixture of pride and caution.

Just then, Evan Cooper jogged over from the other side of the court. His breathing was steady, but his face was serious.

"Ethan..." he called out tentatively.

I looked up at him.

"I’m your coach for today," I said, a playful edge in my tone, "don’t call me Ethan."

Evan grinned sheepishly and nodded.

"Okay... coach," he replied, scratching the back of his neck.

There was a short pause before Evan continued, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"How about you? Don’t you train too? I mean, you’re one of our main team players."

I shook my head slowly, a faint smile on my lips.

"I already train what I need," I said firmly, "now my job is to train you all."

Evan blinked, absorbing my words. He looked at me for a moment, as if realizing the weight of what I just said that I was no longer just a player, but their guide, their coach.

(This is bigger than me now.)

I felt a surge of responsibility settle over me. The Division Cup was coming, and every step I took wasn’t just for my own growth — it was for all of them.

Louie, still standing nearby, crossed his arms and shot a sideways glance at Evan.

"Coach sounds better anyway," Louie teased.

Evan laughed, shaking his head.

"Yeah, yeah, coach it is."

I watched the two of them, thinking about how this team wasn’t just a group of players, they were a family in the making. Rivalries would sharpen them, doubts would test them, but together, they could become something unstoppable.

I turned back to the court, ready to push them harder. Because if they wanted to beat the prodigies and monsters waiting in the future, we had to be ready. freewebnøvel.com

To be continue