Basketball System: Rebound of the Underdog

Jian leaned back on the bench, staring up at the scoreboard.

He felt it might change if he looked hard enough.

However, the gap wasn't even close.

His team was silent.

The Juren Champions had been here before—plenty of times, actually. They were the ones used to win, the ones who usually left the court with their heads held high. But today, it was different. Today, the Shizi Dogs had taken their victory, and the Champions were the ones with nothing to show.

Chaoxing was the first to break the silence. He stood in front of his teammates, forcing a smile. "Hey, it's okay, guys," he said, his voice shaky.

He looked around at them—Jimmy, whose eyes were cast down, refusing to meet anyone's gaze, and the younger players, who were already trying to mask their tears with laughter.

"We can come back next year," one of the younger players said, his voice trying to sound optimistic. "You can still play next year, Chaoxing."

Chaoxing let out a watery laugh, wiping at his eyes. "No, I can't, you idiot," he said, half-chuckling and half-sobbing. "I'm graduating."

"Wait, you're not playing next year?" the first-year player looked genuinely confused, glancing around to confirm this wasn't true.

"Damn, you guys are hopeless," Chaoxing said, shaking his head. He ruffled the younger player's hair, trying to put on a brave face. But the tears kept coming, no matter how much he smiled. "I can't believe I spent my last game with a bunch of blockheads like you."

Jimmy, however, said nothing. He kept his head down, fists clenched on his knees.

Jian's gaze drifted away from his teammates, his mind turning inward.

They'd won countless times.

The Champions were the dominant force in this league for as long as he could remember. Yet, this loss felt different. No, this was actually the first loss he had experienced.

He stood, needing space and air. Without a word, he walked away, ignoring the reporters who called after him, their cameras pointed in his face, seeking a reaction.

He had nothing to give them.

He pushed past the crowd and past the stands where his family was sitting. He saw his mother's worried face, his father's hand reaching out as if to pull him into a hug, but Jian shook his head. He couldn't handle their comfort right now.

He needed to be alone.

He stepped out into the corridor, the noise of the arena muffled behind him. It felt like he was underwater, everything distant and muted, even the sound of his own heartbeat thudding in his ears.

He wasn't sure what he was feeling. It was like a storm of emotions, all colliding together—pain, frustration, maybe even a hint of relief. He couldn't pin it down or make sense of it.

He was about to leave when he felt a hand grab his arm. He turned, frowning, expecting to see one of his teammates, maybe even his coach. But it wasn't.

It was Kimmy.

"What are you doing here?" Jian asked, blinking in confusion. He frowned deeper.

"Shouldn't you be going to Kai right now?" he asked. He'd seen her looking at Kai more than once; he knew how she felt about him.

Kimmy clicked her tongue, crossing her arms. "Wow, you really are clueless, aren't you?"

Jian huffed, glancing away. "If you're here to rub it in, I'm not in the mood."

"Are you alright?" she asked, her tone unexpectedly soft.

Jian didn't answer right away. He clenched his jaw, looking down at the ground. "I don't know," he admitted finally.

It was the truth, as raw as he could put it. He felt like he should be angry, but instead, he just felt… hollow.

Kimmy stepped closer, her expression hardening. "You know what your problem is, Jian?" she said, her voice sharper now. "You're naturally talented. You're one of the best players I've ever seen. But you don't work hard. Not at all."

Jian snapped his head up, glaring at her. "You think I don't know that? Do you have to tell it to my face?"

"You heard me," Kimmy shot back. "You lost today because you coast on your talent. You don't push yourself like the others do. You've always had it easy, Jian. You think just because you're good, that's enough?"

He stared at her, speechless. It wasn't like she was wrong, but hearing it out loud stung. He'd never had anyone talk to him like this, not his teammates, not his family.

"You're such a paradox," Kimmy continued, almost laughing. "You're closed off, and yet, you pretend like you have it all figured out. But you don't. You've never let yourself be vulnerable enough to actually care about something enough to work for it."

Jian's eyes dropped to the floor, her words piercing through the haze in his mind. He felt something twist in his chest, something he couldn't name. He didn't know how to respond. He wanted to yell at her, to defend himself, but the words wouldn't come.

"You deserved to lose," Kimmy said bluntly, her voice like a slap. "And you know what? I'm happy you lost."

Jian's head jerked up, meeting her eyes. She was serious. There was no malice there, just a firm, unwavering honesty that he wasn't used to.

"Maybe now," she continued, her voice softening for the first time, "you'll know what it feels like to actually lose something. And maybe then, you'll know what it means to work hard to get it back. Because that's the only way you'll ever become better, Jian. Not just as a player, but as a person."

Jian slowly lifted his head, her eyes meeting hers.

She looked unexpectedly sincere. There were also tears brimming in her eyes.

Why was she looking at him like that?

Why did it feel like she still...cared?

She started to walk away, leaving him standing there, rooted to the spot.

Her words echoed in his mind. He clenched his fists, staring after her, feeling something form in the back of his throat.

"Hey," he called out, his voice rough. Kimmy paused, turning back to look at him. He swallowed, his throat dry. "Want to grab lunch tomorrow?"

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "I'm not interested in eating with your team."

Jian managed a small, tired smile. "No," he said, shaking his head.

"Just the two of us."