Chapter 22 – Pressure Points
January 30th.
The schedule tightened. Three games in five days. All against playoff-bound teams.
Fatigue wasn't a theory anymore—it was real. Legs burned. Knees stiffened. Hands felt heavier on every closeout, every rebound.
But Michael never showed it.
Because he couldn't.
[System Warning: Physical Strain Detected – Efficiency Penalty Incoming] [Condition Modifier: +0.3% Fatigue per Game Played This Week]
He read the notification and simply taped his ankles tighter.
First game: Easton High.
Tough zone. Slow tempo. Michael played facilitator.
He picked them apart with backdoor passes and short jumpers.
Final line: 17-6-8. Team win.
[Progress: 17.54%] [System Adjustment: Fatigue Level +0.3%]
Second game: Redwood Charter.
Faster team. Full-court press. Michael had to work for everything.
First quarter: he had 10. Second quarter: nothing came easy.
Third quarter: cramps.
He played through it.
Took a charge. Got a block. Hit a fading three late in the fourth.
Final: 63–60.
He didn't speak much after.
Jamal walked beside him toward the locker room.
"You good?"
Michael nodded. "Just the cost of carrying pace."
[Progress: 17.93%] [System Warning: Endurance Limit Approaching]
Third game: Rosefield Academy.
They smelled blood. Targeted Michael from the jump.
They played him rough—doubled early, bodied him on screens, hit him on every drive.
He still hit the first shot of the game. And the third.
But his legs were gone by the third quarter.
He missed a rotation. Missed a box out. Then missed two free throws.
Coach Alvarez called timeout.
"You're gassed. Let me sit you."
Michael shook his head. "I'm here."
And he was.
Final two minutes: tie game.
Michael caught it on the wing. Drove baseline. Drew contact—no whistle.
Spun. Elevated. One-leg fade.
Splash.
Then a stop on defense.
Then a last-second assist to Jamal.
Win.
Final line: 21-5-4.
Michael limped into the locker room and dropped his bag like a weight off his back.
[Progress: 18.47%] [System Alert: Grit Tier I Unlocked]
Coach sat beside him.
"You're running on fumes, kid."
Michael nodded.
"Then I'll run smarter."