Basketball System: Rebound of the Underdog

Kai sat there dumbfounded, his mind fogged as the room slowly filled with murmurs. Every athlete around him stared in wide-eyed disbelief at the elaborate torch-lighting plan.

"What the heck?" someone muttered behind him. "How can they do it?"

"Yeah, who even comes up with this stuff?" another voice chimed in.

Kai blinked, still processing. He looked back at the animated screen, where his animated self had just pulled off the perfect shot, lighting the entire torch in one grand flourish.

No way was that realistic.

Meanwhile, across the room, Fernando Ching nodded to himself, utterly unfazed. His arms were still crossed, but there was a confidence to him—a belief that he could and would make his part of this work. Kai couldn't help but gulp, his throat dry.

'Maybe if he was that confident,' Kai thought to himself, 'then this wouldn't be so bad.'

"Good luck, kid," Dong teased, drawing laughter from the other athletes.

"Yeah, you're gonna need it," Max added with a cheeky grin.

"Try not to embarrass us too much!" Jian called, smirking at Kai.

Kai forced a smile, but his hands were clenched into fists. The lighthearted jeering continued, and then Jimmy, still salty about his missed opportunity, crossed his arms and muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear, "Hope you miss."

"Real supportive," Kai shot back flatly, earning a chuckle from the rest of the Elite Five.

Still, as the teasing died down, Kai couldn't shake the pressure of everyone's expectations—or lack thereof. Most of the athletes clearly didn't believe he could pull it off. In their eyes, it was probably some publicity stunt, something that would fail spectacularly in front of millions.

But not for Kai. He saw it differently. As he pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes toward the now-frozen screen, a mission flashed before him in his mind's eye.

[Special mission: Light the torch on fire during the opening ceremony of the Global Games. One try.]

[Prize: 100 XP]

He almost laughed at himself.

If he could do this—if he could somehow make the impossible work—it would mean something. Something bigger than a silly shot. Something he could prove to himself and everyone else.

But that also meant one thing: the pressure was on.

***

Kai was standing in a smaller practice arena with Fernando and the director of the performance, Mr. Liang.

"So," Mr. Liang began, clapping his hands sharply to get their attention. "We don't have much time. You two will need to work in perfect sync if this performance is going to succeed." He turned his sharp eyes on Kai. "You start. Let's see how you handle the ball."

Fernando stood off to the side, arms crossed as always, watching Kai with a skeptical expression. It wasn't exactly reassuring.

Kai took a deep breath and stepped forward. The ceremonial ball—a strange, weighted thing filled with flammable liquid—was handed to him. It looked and felt like a normal basketball, except heavier. He bounced it once experimentally, feeling the odd, sluggish movement of the liquid inside.

"Careful," Mr. Liang warned. "Bouncing the ball will be difficult because of the liquid inside. You'll lose control if you're not precise."

Kai didn't respond. Instead, he focused. His hands adjusted around the ball, getting used to the weight. He bent his knees and bounced it lightly once, then again. The sound echoed cleanly through the empty practice space.

Effortless.

Kai smiled faintly, letting the ball glide in and out of his hands with smooth control. Despite its strange weight, it wasn't so bad—like a slightly deflated ball. Nothing he couldn't handle.

Fernando's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Mr. Liang looked impressed, though he tried to hide it. "Good foundation," he admitted. "Now, let's move on to the throw."

Kai nodded and stepped back to the designated line. In his head, he replayed the animated scene over and over. A clean shot. A perfect arc. Easy, right?

He had done this plenty of times!

He breathed out, steadied himself, and threw.

The ball soared through the air, heavy but balanced, heading straight toward the ring where the coal waited.

Then—THUD.

The ball entered the torch basket, but it didn't light on fire. His eyebrows raised in surprise, and before he could say anything, Fernando stepped forward with his rifle in hand.

"You didn't get it close enough," Fernando said sharply, his voice accusing. "The arc was wrong."

Kai turned to him, eyebrows raising slightly. "I thought you were supposed to shoot it?"

"I am," Fernando snapped. "But it won't work unless your throw is precise."

Kai swallowed down a retort and picked up the ball again. Mr. Liang clapped his hands, drawing their attention. "Let's do it again. We won't stop until we get it right."

And so it began. Over and over, Kai repeated the throw. He adjusted his stance, his grip, his arc. Each time, Fernando would aim and fire—but every single attempt missed.

Kai's frustration began to show through his calm facade. He didn't know what was worse—the repeated failures or the way Fernando kept blaming him.

"Too low."

"Too far to the right."

"Do you even know what you're doing?"

Kai gritted his teeth, picking up the ball yet again. His body was starting to ache from the repeated movements, but he didn't say anything. He couldn't. The pressure of their gazes was crushing.

Mr. Liang watched silently, his expression impassive but intense. Fernando glared at him after every missed shot as if it were only his fault.

But Kai didn't know if it was. Maybe it was him. Maybe he was overthinking it. Or maybe it was Fernando, whose shots seemed just a beat too late every time. Either way, they weren't getting anywhere.

Kai bent over slightly, resting his hands on his knees as he breathed in deeply, sweat dripping down the back of his neck. He glanced up at the ring that blasted coal sitting there mockingly, still unlit.

"Again," Mr. Liang called.

Kai straightened up, lips pressed into a thin line. He picked up the ball, adjusted his stance, and locked his eyes on the target once more. He could still feel Fernando's disapproving gaze boring into him from the side.

It didn't matter. He'd keep trying. He had to make it work.

As he moved back into position, though, something tugged at the back of his mind. A realization.

There was another problem he hadn't thought of yet—one that might make this whole thing even harder.

'What if Fernando doesn't want me to succeed?'