He stepped onto the court, the ball rack standing beside him like an old companion waiting to see what he'd become. The corners of the gym were filled with quiet murmurs, but he couldn't hear any of it. Not Jamie. Not Kris. Not even Kumstrim's instructions.
Just the sound of his own heartbeat and the bounce of the first pass.
"Corner one. First shot."
He caught the ball cleanly. His form rose effortlessly.
Splash.
The second ball followed he didn't even pause.
Splash.
He was in rhythm now.
Three. Four. Five.
One after another, the net whispered its approval. 4 out of 5 from the first corner.
He jogged to the next spot the right wing. A slight shift in distance, but the muscle memory held firm. He missed his first, but corrected immediately.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
3 out of 5 again.
His breathing stayed calm. No overthinking. No panic. Just movement, catch, rise, release.
Top of the arc his favorite. The first one rattled out, but then he caught fire.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
3 out of 5 again. He was now 10 of 15.
He felt it now the same warmth in his fingertips that he'd only felt during late night sessions in an empty gym, when no one was watching and it was just him and the basket.
Next up: left wing. He missed two this time one too short, one too rushed but still sank three.
He gave himself no time to get frustrated. Just moved on.
Final corner.
By now, his arms were a little heavy, his legs slower but his will stayed sharp. He sank his first two. Missed one. Then swished the final two.
17 out of 25.
When the last ball left his hand and found the net, Nikola stood there for just a second longer. His chest rising, sweat on his brow but a different kind of feeling in his chest.
It wasn't just relief.
It was pride.
He hadn't just kept up… he had performed again.
From high up in the stands, the sun filtering through the dusty gym windows painted golden streaks across the court. The air was buzzing not just from the echo of bouncing balls, but from the rising tension of the tryouts.
Aleksandar leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked onto the court like a sniper aiming down scope.
Nikola had just finished his final shot, jogging back toward the sideline, a thin line of sweat glistening on his brow.
"Did you see that, Hao?" Aleksandar said, his voice a mix of pride and disbelief.
Hao glanced at him, then nodded casually. "He went 17 for 25, right? Not bad at all."
But Aleksandar shook his head. "Not just 'not bad'… he's been solid through every shooting drill so far. First threes? Nineteen. Then mid range? Seventeen. Now again? Seventeen. That's consistency, man. Not just luck."
Hao let out a quiet whistle, impressed despite himself. "You're right. I didn't expect him to bounce back like this after the physical drills. He looked… crushed earlier."
Aleksandar smirked slightly. "He was. But this? This is the Nikola I know. Give him a ball and a chance to shoot, and he'll remind people why he's here."
He leaned back now, arms crossed. Below, Nikola sat on the bench, drinking water, towel draped around his shoulders but there was a subtle shift in him. A sense of calm. Confidence returning.
"He's not the most athletic. Not the fastest. But when it comes to heart, and pure shooting… he's finally showing it," Aleksandar said, eyes never leaving Nikola.
Hao's expression softened, and he gave a small nod. "Let's see if he can keep this momentum going."
The next name was already being called.
"Kris!" Kumstrim's voice echoed through the gym, clipped and commanding.
Kris stepped up, a quiet but sharp energy surrounding him. His shoulders rolled back, arms loose, eyes laser focused on the rack of basketballs in front of him. While others might have felt the pressure after Nikola's strong showing, Kris wore a calm grin like this was exactly where he belonged.
And maybe it was.
The drill began.
First spot corner right.
Swish.
Swish.
Swish.
Swish.
Kris didn't just shoot he flowed. Each catch was a seamless motion. No hesitation. No break. The sound of the net snapping echoed in rhythmic patterns. Shot after shot found the bottom of the net, almost mechanical, yet with a smoothness that was uniquely his.
Second spot right wing.
A miss.
Kris exhaled.
Then came four in a row.
By the time he reached the top of the arc, everyone was watching.
Even Kumstrim, usually impassive, raised an eyebrow.
It wasn't just the makes it was the way he moved, the way the ball left his hands like it had been trained since birth to obey him.
By the time Kris reached the final spot left corner the gym was nearly silent. The final five shots came and went in a flurry.
Swish.
Swish.
Swish.
Swish.
Swish.
21 out of 25.
As the final ball dropped through the net, Kris took a step back and simply nodded to himself, like it wasn't surprising it was expected.
He turned and walked off the court, towel already in hand, passing by Nikola on the sideline with a quick, confident smirk.
Nikola, wiping sweat from his brow, watched him quietly.
So that's your specialty…" he thought to himself, a strange mixture of admiration and determination bubbling up inside him.
The gym wasn't done yet. But the message was clear:
Kris had arrived.
Up in the stands, the low chatter from earlier had faded into silence. Everyone's eyes were glued to the court, and Hao was no exception.
He sat with one leg crossed over the other, hands calmly resting in his lap, but his eyes sharp and analytical were locked on Kris the entire time.
Shot after shot, Hao barely blinked.
Kris... 21 out of 25.
The number echoed in Hao's mind as he watched the light skinned shooter walk off the court without even looking back. There was no showboating, no celebration just quiet confidence.
"…That kid is dangerous," Hao murmured under his breath, lips curling into a small smile.
Aleksandar, sitting beside him, turned. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
Hao didn't respond immediately. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, his gaze still fixed on Kris's retreating figure.
"Most players hit shots because they're hot," Hao said, his tone low and thoughtful. "But that " he nodded toward the court "that was rhythm. Pure rhythm. That form… the release… he didn't even hesitate."
Aleksandar nodded slowly, but Hao continued, voice softer now.
"He's not just talented. He's trained. You don't shoot like that unless you've been obsessed with it. Day in, day out. Rain or shine."
There was a brief pause, the sound of a ball bouncing filling the quiet.
Then Hao leaned back and crossed his arms.
"Kris," he said, almost to himself. "I'm going to remember that name."
And as the next player stepped onto the court, Hao's sharp gaze remained unwavering.
The tryouts weren't over yet. But the pieces on the board were beginning to reveal themselves.