Basketball System: Rebound of the Underdog

"It's a bad idea."

Zheng's voice cut through the quiet room as he and Jian barged in. The two had looks of frustration, staring at their teammate with narrowed eyes.

Kai didn't even flinch, his gaze fixed on the glowing phone screen in front of him.

Max crossed his arms, standing next to Jimmy. "We're already divided as it is, Kai. Do you really think this competition is going to help? It's just going to make things worse."

Jian nodded in agreement. He sat on the edge of the desk, running a hand through his hair as he spoke. "Our teamwork was already starting to get better. And now you want to tear us apart?"

Kai didn't immediately answer.

His thumb swiped across the screen, the faint sounds of basketball commentary playing in the background.

"Granted, we stay the same," he said finally, his voice unbothered, "are we going to win?"

That shut them up.

Max's frown deepened as he looked to Jian, searching for support, but the latter had nothing to say either.

They all knew the answer to Kai's question, whether they liked it or not.

Kai sighed through his nose, his eyes still locked on the phone screen. "The reason I said something like that is because the current system isn't working. Nothing will change if we continue on with this path. You know this."

"You can't even look at us while you say that?" Zheng's voice broke through the silence.

He'd been standing near the door, arms crossed and shoulders tense. His tone wasn't angry, but it wasn't far from it either.

Kai exhaled sharply, finally lifting his head. "I'm watching the Japanese team play," he said, holding up his phone for emphasis.

"Now, you can either join me or lose. It's already decided, anyway. We're going to have that competition since Coach Xu Wei has decided on it. There's no use crying over spilled milk."

The room fell silent. They knew that Kai wasn't trying to be cruel—he was being honest, blunt as ever.

And the truth was undeniable. They were already walking on a thin line.

"I'm sure of this," Kai added, softer this time, "I know you don't want to lose against those guys."

No one spoke, but the fire in their eyes flared.

"Technically," Kai added. "We've never won against the veteran team. They do like us better now, but I still don't think they take us seriously. Don't you want to change that?"

When they didn't answer, he looked back at his phone and resumed watching.

The others exchanged glances before slowly making their way over. One by one, they crowded around Kai, their eyes narrowing as they watched the Japanese players move on the screen.

For the next hour, the room was filled with the quiet murmurs of strategy discussions and occasional groans as the Japanese team executed perfect plays.

***

The day of the game came faster than anyone expected. The Chinese team walked into the arena, the squeak of shoes on polished floors echoing around them.

The atmosphere was definitely different from the earlier games.

The audience was sparse, the stands dotted with empty seats.

It was obvious that both countries had lost hope in their delegates. For the fans, this wasn't a game of pride or excitement anymore. It was an obligation—nothing more, nothing less.

David and Gina, the commentators, were doing their best to drum up enthusiasm, but even their voices carried a sense of resignation.

"Here we are, folks. Japan versus China," Gina said. "Both teams are struggling in the standings, and unfortunately, this game won't change much for either of them."

David hummed thoughtfully. "It's disappointing, really. Both countries have storied basketball legacies, but something just hasn't clicked for these teams this year. You can see it now as the Chinese players come onto the court. They look...well, separated."

The camera panned to the Chinese team as they entered the court, and David's words rang true.

Instead of one unified line, the players came in disjointed.

The veterans led the way, their expressions focused but distant.

Behind them, Kai and the Elite Five trailed.

Between the two groups, Coach Xu Wei walked, his posture straight, though the tension in his shoulders was impossible to miss.

Kai glanced at his teammates as they scattered to warm up.

Just like David had said, they looked separated.

He tightened the strap on his wristband and exhaled deeply.

"It doesn't matter," he muttered to himself. "This is the way it should be."

"Honestly, it looks like they've fought," Gina commented, "You don't often see this level of separation in a professional game."

David sighed. "I don't know, Gina. Maybe this is part of their strategy? We heard rumblings about the team shaking things up, so maybe it's intentional. Still, it's hard to watch a team that doesn't look like a team at all."

Kai caught bits and pieces of the commentary as he dribbled idly at the edge of the court. He shot a glance toward the stands, taking in the rows of empty seats and the small clusters of fans who were still there.

Kai's gaze drifted to the Japanese team warming up on the opposite side of the court. One thing that their team had the best among the rest was their discipline.

Kai was reminded of the Xing Stars—like military men who moved as one unit.

Then, he glanced back at their own bench. For some reason, a small smirk made its way to his lips. Disconnected as they seemed, it appeared like they were more determined than ever.

Just then, the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of their warm-up period. Coach Xu Wei sat on the bench, gesturing for them to come together.

They all walked to the old man, but even then, they kept some space between their own teams.

"Just as planned," Coach Xu Wei said, sounding a bit excited. "The veterans go first."

Caleb cracked his knuckles while Dong sighed. Jaw-Long looked at Kai and shook his head.

"I didn't want to do this, but it seems like we're going to teach you a lesson, young men."

"Kids these days are so brave," Muyang bit. "I'll make sure you guys go back crying to your mommies."

Meanwhile, Marcus merely threw them a glare before walking to the court.

The smirk on Kai's lips didn't leave as he watched their retreating figures.

This was what he wanted.

This fire. Whatever this was—it might just lead them to their first victory.