The gym was packed.
Banners rustled from the AC vents, sneakers squeaked against hardwood, and the murmur of voices—parents, fans, and maybe even scouts—filled the air like rising smoke before a storm.
Jalen stepped onto the court with a bounce in his stride. His black and gold Vipers jersey clung to his shoulders, a thin layer of sweat already glistening. The game hadn't started, but his heart had. Beating. Fast. Like a drum before battle.
"Remember," his dad had said that morning. "Pressure is just a spotlight. Let it show what you've been grinding for."
He looked to the stands. His dad gave a nod. A familiar face, calm and steady.
Then he glanced across the court—and his stomach twisted.
The Rivalry Ignites
Kairo was back.
But not on the other team.
He stood beside Coach Trey, now wearing a Vipers warm-up.
"What the—?" Jalen muttered under his breath.
Coach clapped his hands. "Alright team, quick huddle!"
As the players gathered around, Coach dropped the bombshell.
"We added Kairo to the roster this morning. His old team got disqualified, and I've seen the way he plays. We need fire if we're gonna win this tournament."
Jalen stared. Kairo didn't smile, didn't gloat—he just gave a short nod like it was already decided.
"We play together," Coach said. "Put the ego aside. The legacy's bigger than the beef."
Jalen swallowed. "Alright," he said. "Let's see if fire and fire can make something golden."
Tip-Off
The game began like a shot.
The other team—the Northline Raptors—was tough. Fast breaks. Full-court press. Their captain, a lanky kid named Tyrese, was all arms and hustle. Within two minutes, it was 8–2, Raptors.
"Get it together!" Coach shouted.
Then, Jalen caught the ball just past half-court.
He dribbled, faked a pass, spun through two defenders—and nailed a floater in traffic.
The crowd roared.
"Nice," Kairo said, running past him.
It wasn't praise. It was a challenge.
Next play, Kairo stole the ball mid-dribble, drove to the basket, and dunked.
Dunked.
The gym exploded.
The Fuse Lights
As the second quarter ticked down, something shifted.
Kairo and Jalen weren't competing anymore—they were combining. Alley-oops. Give-and-goes. Traps that shut down Tyrese.
Their rhythm clicked like they'd trained together for months.
Coach Trey grinned on the sideline. "That's how stars are made."
With one minute left in the half, the Vipers were up 31–26.
Halftime Tension
In the locker room, the air was thick with energy and sweat.
Jalen sat on the bench, bouncing the ball lightly. Kairo sat beside him, tying his laces tighter.
"You mad at me?" Kairo asked without looking.
"No," Jalen said. "I just didn't expect it."
Kairo finally looked at him. "You're good, Cole. Real good. But today? Let's be legendary."
Jalen smirked. "Let's show them what fire really looks like."
Second Half Surge
The third quarter was war.
Tyrese went off, scoring three straight layups. But Jalen answered with a reverse and-one. Then a dagger corner three.
Kairo followed with a behind-the-back assist that made the crowd lose it.
By the fourth quarter, the Vipers were up by ten.
But the Raptors didn't quit.
With two minutes left, Tyrese hit a deep three. Then stole the ball. Then hit another.
Down to a 2-point game.
Final Possession
20 seconds left. Vipers ball.
Coach called time.
"They'll expect Kairo. Jalen, you take it."
The gym held its breath.
Inbound. Jalen dribbled. Crossover. Time ticking. Defender closing in.
10 seconds.
He pump-faked. Defender didn't bite.
8 seconds.
He heard his dad's voice in his mind:
"Pressure is the moment when you decide what kind of player you are."
He stepped back.
Fadeaway jumper.
The crowd stood.
Swish.
Game.
Aftermath
As the buzzer rang, Jalen pumped his fist in the air. Kairo grabbed him by the shoulder and yelled, "Let's GO!!!" as teammates rushed in.
In the stands, his dad stood and clapped slowly—eyes filled with pride.
And Jalen? He didn't see the scout in the corner scribbling notes. He didn't hear Coach mutter, "That kid's going somewhere."
All he felt was this:
Mamba would've been proud.