WILDCATS 72 – VORPAL 71
5:00 remaining.
The clock glowed red like an open wound above the court.
Ethan crossed half-court slowly.
Not stalling.
Measuring.
Each dribble was low and compressed palm relaxed, fingers controlling spin. His shoulders were loose, but his eyes were not. His eyes were hunting.
Ikinawa waited.
Half-smile. Loose stance. Weight floating on the balls of his feet never committing.
Predators recognized predators.
The gym noise faded inside Ethan's head.
Not silence
Structure.
Ethan thought this seriously
(Your glide layup changes release point after hip rotation.
Your acceleration always follows a low double bounce.
Your shot fake begins with your left eyebrow.
You don't attack space, you bend angles.
I see it now. All of it.)
Louie cut across baseline.
Aiden ghosted corner.
Evan lifted to slot
.
Spacing perfect.
But Ethan didn't pass.
Not yet.
He stepped forward.
