A Dunk

Marquis shakes his head, chuckling to himself. "A memory," he says, his gaze drifting back to the basketball court where a game is about to begin.

Nearby, Kai animatedly chats with a group of girls. "Yeah, and I screamed, 'Hey, fifth year, you missed this!' And bam!" He mimics hitting something with his legs, clearly reliving his tale with dramatic flair. 

Marquis raises an eyebrow. Did it really escalate that far?

Marquis sighs, gripping the basketball in his hand. He dribbles it casually, alternating between behind-the-legs and a smooth hesitation move, the rhythm of the ball grounding him in the moment.

He scans the court. Half of it is occupied by the girls, leaving a cramped space for the boys to manage. "2-on-2? First to 21?" Marquis proposes, his voice low but decisive.

Kai strides over, stretching his arms lazily. "What about our 1v1?"

"Nah, I'm good. I already know I'd lose." Marquis smirks, leaping up to touch the rim for show. He wastes no time picking his team, pointing at two boys: a towering figure with a muscular build and another lean, athletic-looking player. "Me and Kai are Team A," he announces.

"Hey, that's not fair!" someone from the sidelines protests. "You and Kai are too good. Switch one of you for Alain or something!"

Marquis pauses, turning toward the commotion. "Alain?" He spots him lying sprawled on the ground, his head tilted back as if he's just woken up. Alain's unmistakable red eyes flicker open, gleaming even in the daylight.

"Huh? Who?" Alain mutters groggily, stretching his limbs lazily. Marquis winces, already regretting the potential chaos.

"All of you are the most skilled around here, and you're afraid of a little 2-on-2?" Marquis taunts, gripping the basketball tighter.

Alain, now fully awake, yawns and stands, his red eyes glowing brighter. 

"I'll join." He raises his hand, motioning for Marquis to pass him the ball. Marquis obliges, watching as Alain lazily dusts off his plain white sportswear.

"I'll take the same big guy. What's your name again?" Alain asks, barely glancing at the towering figure beside him.

"Tyrsson," the boy replies flatly. His height is intimidating—easily a head taller than anyone else.

Alain tilts his head, studying him. "You play basketball?"

"No," Tyrsson says with zero hesitation. "Retrieval wars."

The entire court falls silent at the words.

Marquis breaks the silence first. "What level?"

"One below professional," Tyrsson says, his tone still calm and matter-of-fact.

The shock is immediate.

"How old are you?" Alain presses, his curiosity evident.

"Fourteen."

The revelation drops like a bomb. Gasps ripple through the group as everyone stares at Tyrsson in disbelief.

"No way you're 14!" Kai yells, his voice cracking in astonishment. "Your size, your level—your so close to competing in the universal retrieval wars!"

"I'm not." Tyrsson shrugs, his indifference infuriating. Alain starts giggling, clearly amused.

"I mean, yeah, but your level…" Kai says, slapping his forehead.

"I don't like playing," Tyrsson cuts in, his tone nonchalant, "but I'll wipe that smug look off your face." as he finishes a grin appears on his face.

Marquis cuts in, eyeing Tyrsson. "What race are you—"

Before he can finish, Tyrsson cuts him off with a loud, commanding voice. "Ball! We're playing to 21, right?"

"Check up," Kai says, stepping forward to match up with Tyrsson.

Alain's eyes gleam a vivid, bloodshot red as Marquis strides up to guard him.

"Ugh, stop doing that," Marquis grumbles, locking his stance in front of Alain.

"I should be the one complaining," Alain retorts, his voice dripping with irritation. "I didn't even want to play. Moving around is the worst."

But his actions betrayed his words. Alain darted across the half court with unpredictable, frantic energy, cutting angles and leaving Marquis in a constant state of adjustment.

Kai passed the ball to Tyrsson, but the moment it landed in his hands, he unleashed a suffocating presence.

Tyrsson moved with deliberate, crushing force, his towering frame nearly impossible to stop. 

He feinted left, shifting his weight deceptively, then executed a shockingly agile body fake and drove right.

Marquis blinked in surprise—how could someone so massive move like that? Tyrsson fired the ball to Alain, who leapt into the air to catch it with ease.

Alain landed, his bloodshot eyes locked on Marquis, who was shadowing him closely. The intensity in his gaze never wavered as he tested Marquis' defense.

He went between the legs, the ball flicking with sharp precision, but Marquis mirrored his movement perfectly.

A crossover? Blocked.

A spin move? Neutralized by Marquis' quick feet.

Alain tried a step-back jumper, creating just enough space to fire a clean shot. Marquis was already there, hand extended.

Frustrated, Alain pump-faked, drawing Marquis into a brief hesitation before rifling a pass to Tyrsson. The big man bulldozed his way past Kai, finishing with an effortless layup.

"That's 2-0," someone called from the sideline.

The game became a battle. 

Alain and Marquis threw everything at each other, their movements becoming sharper, faster, and more calculated. 

Meanwhile, Kai was a blur of creativity on the court, executing in-out-dribbles with precision, followed by a drop step to feint Tyrsson. Each point was earned with sweat and sheer determination.

6-8.

During a check-up, Alain suddenly broke loose.

He accelerated with such explosive speed that Marquis barely had time to react. 

By the time he moved, Alain was already slicing through their defense. With a deft up-and-under maneuver, he faked Marquis into the air and laid the ball softly off the glass.

The score tightened, the tension rising with every possession. Marquis' mind raced as he reset his stance, his eyes narrowing at Alain. "I won't let him through so easily this time."

Score: 19-20.

The final stretch was chaos. Alain unleashed everything in his arsenal, chaining moves with breathtaking fluidity. He darted toward the rim, a blur of motion. 

Marquis, who had spent the game adapting to Alain's patterns, lunged forward, his hands low, ready to intercept the ball between Alain's legs.

"He loves going between the legs," Marquis thought, locking onto Alain's every movement.

Alain didn't disappoint. He started with an in-out dribble, the ball momentarily vanishing from Marquis' reach.

With fluid momentum, he faked a drive to the right, the ball seeming to follow—but it was a deception. In reality, the ball was already in his left hand. Without breaking stride, Alain whipped a no-look pass to Tyrsson, who caught it cleanly.

Tyrsson, hesitated for a moment. He'd been tagged with red flags all game, the defense zeroing in on him.

Instead of forcing his way forward, he retreated just outside the paint, scanning the court. 

Alain had already looped behind him, cutting through defenders like a phantom. Tyrsson passed the ball back with perfect timing.

More and more students crowded around the court, drawn by the energy. 

The class had ended minutes ago, but break time had turned into a spectacle. The little court was now a cauldron of noise, every move on the court drawing gasps and cheers.

Alain seized another fast break. His pace was electrifying, each stride eating up the court as Marquis scrambled to keep up. Kai made a split-second decision, leaving Tyrsson to double-team Alain. "If we can block his shot, Marquis will score on the rebound," Kai reasoned.

It was their biggest mistake.

Alain approached the center, his dribbling a blur of misdirection.

He pulled off an inverted behind-the-back dribble, the ball switching sides so fluidly it left Marquis a step behind. Alain planted his foot, exploding toward the rim. 

Both Marquis and Kai leapt, hands outstretched to block the shot.

The crowd roared, voices echoing: "ALAIN!!"

Just when it seemed like he was going for a contested layup, Alain's eyes flicked sideways. His gaze locked on Tyrsson, who stood silently near the baseline.

"Pass," Tyrsson muttered, his deep voice barely audible over the crowd.

Without hesitation, Alain executed a no-look, over-the-shoulder pass mid-air. 

The ball flew with pinpoint precision, arcing perfectly into Tyrsson's path. Alain's move was nothing short of wizardry: a mid-air alley-oop setup.

Tyrsson, despite his massive size, leapt ridiculously high. The court seemed to hold its breath as his hulking frame soared above the defense. The ball met his hands, and with an earth-shattering force, he slammed it through the rim.

"A DUNK!!" the crowd erupted.

The rim shuddered violently under the impact, the backboard quivering in protest. Tyrsson landed with a thunderous thud, the ground beneath him seeming to quake. The sidelines exploded as students swarmed the court.

"No way! You idiotic giant!" a boy shouted, laughing despite himself.

"They should call you guys 'The Force and his Focus!'" someone else cheered, the nickname spreading like wildfire through the crowd.

Marquis and Kai stood still, catching their breath as the chaos unfolded around them.

The game was over, and their loss was decisive. Marquis scanned the crowd, his vision blurred by sweat and exhaustion. Amid the sea of faces, one stood out: Anna.

She was walking toward him with purpose, her expression unreadable.

"Huh?" Marquis muttered, wiping his eyes. Anna strode closer, her gaze locked onto him.

Kai, drenched and defeated, shook his head and trudged toward the locker room without a word.

Anna stopped in front of Marquis, her eyes narrowing as she tilted his face upward.

"You—" she began, her voice sharp.

"Is she going to kiss me? Please do!" Marquis thought, his heart pounding. 

His face involuntarily shifted into what he assumed was a "kissing position," though he wasn't sure what he was doing.

He shut his eyes, ready for the moment.

Instead, a sharp slap stung his cheek.

"You lost against Alain," Anna said fiercely, her tone dripping with disappointment.

"What?" Marquis thought, his mind scrambling to process. I lost, sure, but why is Anna so mad? Oh... she was watching. I tried my best, though.

"Your best isn't enough," Anna snapped, crossing her arms.

"She has this way of knowing what I'm thinking..." Marquis mused, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

Despite her scolding, he couldn't help but think, "I could get used to this."

Anna continued reprimanding him, her fiery passion somehow making his loss feel a little less bitter.