Team C had the first possession.
Julián stood at the top of the arc, palms low, dribbling with calm rhythm. His eyes scanned the court not for the man in front of him, but for the space behind him. He was orchestrating.
He signaled with his left hand, a subtle wave.
Kris immediately broke from the corner, brushing past Nikola and curling around a screen. The defenders were forced to switch. Confusion sparked just as planned.
Julián passed the ball off to Kris at the wing.
Kris took a quick dribble, then reversed the ball to Nikola near the baseline.
The defense chased. But it was already too late.
Nikola passed it right back to Julián at the top.
In a flash, Julián faked a drive, pulled both defenders with him, and then snapped the ball behind him Kris again.
Crisp, clean, controlled chaos.
The shot clock ticked.
Seven… six… five…
Kris now had the ball with his back to the basket. He jabbed once. Twice. The defense held.
Then he pivoted and kicked the ball out to the top again
Nikola was there. Wide open.
Time slowed. The gym fell quiet.
Four… three…
Nikola caught it in rhythm, rose with a textbook form, and released.
The arc was perfect. The rotation was clean.
The ball sailed.
Swish.
Two to zero.
Kris pumped his fist.
Julián gave a small clap.
In the stands, a sharp snap echoed as the ball sliced through the net. Nikola's three pointer was clean, the kind of shot that made people instinctively rise from their seats.
Aleksandar did more than rise he nearly leapt into orbit.
"YEEES! That's what I'm talking about!" he roared, slapping the railing in front of him with both palms. His eyes blazed like he'd just witnessed the birth of a legend.
He whipped his head toward Hao.
"You saw that?! You saw that, right?! My boy just hit that like it was nothing! Ice in the veins! Catch and shoot from deep like he's been doing it his whole life!" Aleksandar's voice trembled not from doubt, but from raw belief.
Hao, still seated, blinked. Slowly. Unmoved.
"...It was an open three," he replied flatly, sipping from his water bottle. "Good ball movement, yeah. But let's not act like he just dunked over three guys or pulled off a step back fadeaway."
Aleksandar scoffed, dramatically slapping his chest.
"Bro, are you serious?! That's not just a shot, that's momentum. That's a
statement. You think Jamie's out here doing this kind of team basketball? No, man! My guy Nikola he's the real glue player! You see that form? You see that decision making?! That's pro material!"
Hao didn't even look at him this time.
"...Whatever makes you sleep at night."
Aleksandar leaned back, waving him off like a mosquito.
"Sleep? I'll sleep when Nikola gets that contract. And when he does, I don't want to hear a single 'I told you so' from you."
He then locked his gaze back onto the court, eyes sparkling with fire and unshakable belief.
"Let's go, Nikola… show them who you really are."
Before the ball had even been checked in, Nikola found himself standing face to face with Fermín, the long armed forward from Team D. The sun caught the sweat beading on his brow, but his eyes sharp, focused held none of the aggression Nikola had expected.
Instead, Fermín smiled.
"Before we start," he said, his voice calm and grounded, "I just want to say you guys play real team basketball. Most players who just meet at tryouts like this… they panic, try to show off, hog the ball. But you three? That last possession… smooth reads, ball movement, trust. I respect that."
Nikola blinked, taken aback. He was fully prepared for trash talk. But this? This was genuine praise.
Fermín tilted his head slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. "If I'm honest, I'd love to play with you guys. But hey… we're opponents now. So let's make it count."
Then he added with a small chuckle, "Oh, and that shot? Nice form. Clean stroke. Keep shooting like that, I'll have to start guarding you tighter."
Nikola's chest felt tight but not with fear. It was the odd flutter of being seen, of being acknowledged.
"...Thanks," he replied, his voice quiet but sincere. "Good luck to you too. And… I'll give it everything I've got."
Their eyes met for a brief moment not as enemies, but as equal.
Once again, Julián stood at the top of the arc, fingers gently dancing the ball off the hardwood as his eyes scanned the floor like a seasoned general surveying the battlefield. Each dribble echoed faintly, blending with the murmurs from the crowd and the sneakers squeaking against the gym floor.
Then, a flicker of movement.
He spotted Kris slipping behind his defender, cutting through the paint with swift precision.
"Now."
With a swift, low pass, Julián dished the ball toward Kris expecting an easy layup.
But before the ball even reached its target, a shadow darted in.
Fermín.
Like a hawk anticipating the motion of its prey, he had read the play before it unfolded. He broke formation, gambling everything on his read, abandoning Nikola, who now stood wide open on the wing. But luck or perhaps skill favored the bold.
With a clean swipe, Fermín intercepted the pass mid flight and instantly pivoted toward transition. Without a pause, he fired the ball across the court to his teammate waiting in the corner.
But Julián was fast too fast closing in with lightning speed to contest the shot.
"Back!" Fermín shouted, raising his hand.
The ball returned to him.
Kris stood firm, now between Fermín and the rim. The two locked eyes, and for a brief moment, time slowed.
Then, Fermín exploded forward, driving with speed and power, Kris matching him stride for stride.
But just as they reached the final few feet from the hoop, Fermín swung the ball behind him, eyes darting sideways a pass fake.
Kris twitched.
That was all it took.
Fermín had executed the move with perfection a classic Rondo fake pass and in the instant Kris shifted to react to the illusion, Fermín stepped through the open lane, calm and collected.
With an elegant glide, he laid the ball in off the glass.
The net snapped.
2 to 1.
Fermín landed softly, his lips curled into a subtle smirk. The gamble had paid off.
And Nikola, still wide open at the arc, clenched his fists.
"Next time," he whispered under his breath, "he won't get that lucky."