AT VICTORY ACADEMY LOCKER ROOM****
Coach fuckface: No wandering. No heroics. You see a Victory Academy student, you look the other way. Am I fucking clear on that?.
Team: yes sir.
Coach fuckface: as soon as y'all round up with your showering, I expect your asses to head back to your room. The last thing I need is my student roaming around, hope I made myself clear?.
Team: yes coach.
Coach fuckface: I'll be heading out now.
BARELY THREE MINUTES ON***
Me: okay, I'll be wandering now.
Jensen: I know we both heard what coach said.
Me: there's no way I'll be staying in our room for the next couple of hours, I'm claustrophobic.
Jensen: I'm surprised you know what that mean.
Me: ouch, the fuck is that supposed to mean? (Putting on my sweatshirt)
Jensen: (signaling the other guys) don't worry, you guys can head back to your rooms, I Will follow him to make sure he doesn't get into any trouble.
Me: I knew I could count on you. So where to?
Jensen: wherever you go I follow
Me: eew, that sounds like you're professing your endless love to me. change it
Jensen: I keep forgetting you're weird.
It was barely 9 PM, but the life of the school was as dead as a graveyard. Victory Academy is a study in misplaced priorities. I know it's meant to be a rivalry but what Mr Okoro invested in was a billion-dollar veneer. It's all granite countertops and gold-plated trophies designed to scream 'success' to whoever is left to pay the tuition. The problem is, they've designed a perfect showcase, not a supportive community. It's all flash, no foundation, a very expensive monument to 'keeping up appearances'. It's a fucking disgrace I tell you.
Me: They've paved every path with marble and polished every corner of this building. It makes you wonder, if they spend all that energy polishing the outside, what's left for polishing the connections inside?.
Jensen: damn. Who are you and what have you done with keima?.
Me: the fuck is that supposed to mean?.
Jensen: you just had a spontaneous outbreak of philosophy, and that's something you've never done.
Me: wait. Now that you mention it, when did I get so smart?.
Jensen: now this is the keima I know.
Me: fuck you.
We kept on with our headless walk and followed a path that wound toward a smaller, more secluded courtyard, clearly reserved for the highly privileged. We stopped dead in the shadow of a giant oak tree. This just proves my point cause who plants oak trees in a school building.
Three figures were sitting around a highly detailed iron table, textbooks open, but barely touched. They were girls, dressed in designer sweats and cashmere, sipping from delicate travel mugs. They looked entirely too comfortable and entirely too expensive to be cramming for an exam. I thought the standard at starling was high, but this?, this was just absurd.
The ring leader, a stunning girl with dark, precise features and an air of complete command, was sitting in the middle. I knew her type instantly, the kind of people that possessed intellects that felt more like a calculated weapon than a passion.
Ring leader: And then I just explained that the Cobb-Douglas function in that context was academically unsound.
What the fuck does that even mean?. I know for a fact that I'm not dumb, being in the omega department should have proved that, but again, who the fuck is cobb-douglas?.
Ring leader: It took Professor Davies an hour to concede, but he did.
I scoffed under my breath, about to make a remark to myself again, but my internal commentary was cut short when the ring leader's eyes snapped up, finding us in the darkness.
Ring leader: and how long does Starling's finest intent to hide in the dark?.
Jensen: Apologies. We're just heading back to our dorms. Lost our way.
Ring leader: of course Jensen, you lost your way.
Me: you know him?. (Looking at Jensen) She knows you?.
Ring leader: yes I do, we have something of a history.
Me: (staring blankly at Jensen) even outside Starling bro. God, I fucking hate you.
Jensen: it's not what you think.
Me: (looking at ring leader) is it what I think?.
Ring leader: more or less.
Me: (looking at Jensen) more or less she said.
Jensen: hi, Seraphina, please stop putting weird ideas in the head of my friend.
Seraphina/ring leader: we dated didn't we?, what weird ideas?.
Me: you dated?. Jensen!, what the actual fuck, aren't they meant to be our rivals?.
Seraphina: (scoffing) rivals?, of the eight times we played we've won five. We won the last three matches by a landslide, what rivalry are you talking about.
Jensen: that's enough Seraphina.
Seraphina: oh is it?, Starling's light, (looking at me) the wonder kid. Cheap names with no value. That show you put on earlier for us?, that speech your coach gave about forgetting us seeing you train and countering your tactics, that's gonna bite his ass so bad he will want to quit coaching as a whole.
Me: (cracking a joker-like laugh) I think I've let you speak enough, fine, this isn't a rivalry it's been an embarrassment for us. But you know what?. You standing here right now, grinning and keeping tags on the score like we're practise dummy, that's gonna change.
Seraphina: and who's gonna do that exactly?. You ?. You think the addition of one insignificant lot is gonna change what's already written on the wall?.
Me: (scoffing) one?. No, all of us. (Walking closer to her) You wanna talk about results?, you wanna brag about numbers?. Do that, but I assure you, last year was your last win. We will be taking the dub from now on.
Seraphina: (also leaning closer) bold words
Me: yeah, cause I know I can back em, I'll tell you something else, I promise you, tomorrow you'll start looking at your bench asking questions.
Seraphina: bring it on. Wonder kid.
Me: oh, I will.
This was probably the first time I've ever felt genuinely annoyed and angry before a game, I won't be playing tomorrow's game for my ego. I'll be doing it for the ego of Coach, and Jensen and Damian and Jace and every other player who have been subjected to this weird ridicule of Victory Academy. Getting closer to our room door....
Jensen: you meant every single thing you said?.
Me: every single word. Tomorrow would be nothing, and I repeat nothing but war for me.
Jensen: I knew I made you my rival for a good reason
Me: last I remember I, made you my rival.
Jensen: so?. we both said the same thing.
Me: yes, we did, but how in heavens name did you even date someone like her?.
Jensen: she's Mr okoro's daughter, so I don't know?, I guess we just fell in love.
Me: you fell in love with the rival of your dad?. This some k-drama, philipino shit.
Jensen: yeah I know. But we were madly in love then. Just so hard to understand why we became so distant now.
Me: you are?.
Jensen: didn't you see the way she spoke to us, that should've told you all you needed to know.
Me: from what I saw, she hates the school for the rivalry, but she never once spoke harsh to you. In fact she only used that soothing voice of hers when addressing you.
Jensen: yeah, you're definitely the only one who picked that.
Me: did God exchange your senses for looks?.
Jensen: the hell is that supposed to mean man?.
Me: nothing, maybe just use your fucking empty head. (Walking into our room) And here I thought God took a break while making you, his angels probably used you to practice sculpting.
Jensen: ouch, what the fuck dude.
AROUND 11PM*****
Jensen: Keima, our favourite big mouth, issued a challenge to the entire Victory Academy team for tomorrow's match, and I concurred. We lost by a whole 20 points last year, 15 the year before and 17 before that. That'll be stopping this year. They think they are better than us?, they think they are bigger than us?. Fuck them. Tomorrow we win them by a fucking margin, tomorrow we show them they underestimated us. Are y'all with me?.
Four of us: yes we are
Jensen: Our blabber mouth also said something, tomorrow is war. A war we intend to win. Everyone, get some shut eyes. We need to be at a hundred tomorrow.
Damian: I like this new spirit of ours. Tomorrow we win, nothing short of that.
I guess tomorrow we go to war. Nothing short of a win.
NEXT DAY, TEN MINUTES BEFORE KICKOFF****
The air in our designated locker room, usually loud with bad jokes or laid back chatter, was thick and heavy. Ten minutes, ten minutes until we had to back up every word I said last night.
I was at a locker, meticulously re-taping my right wrist. I didn't need the tape, not really, but the routine kept the swirling thoughts out. My teammates weren't much better. Even Anayo our loudest guy was silent, just sitting on the bench, bouncing a knee or staring at the polished floor.
Jensen walked over, holding a water bottle., slowly taking sips. He was the only one who looked under no pressure, I guess that's what makes him captain material.
Jensen: How you feeling?. You've barely talked all morning.
Me: (Without looking up, still taping my wrist) Focused. I just don't want to give Seraphina any other bragging right.
Jensen: (Taking a long sip of water) Look, about last night, she knows how to push buttons. Trust me, I was with her for over a year and I know
Me: except she wasn't just pushing buttons. Five wins out of eight?. That's not trash talk Jensen, that's history. We've been giving them the material. Not anymore. Tonight, we rewrite that history.
Jensen: And that, we will. They go around picking up guys from different divisions, we go around building our team in family and togetherness. We know the weaknesses of each other, and we know our strengths. Today we show them exactly who we are. Exactly who starling strike is.
I finished the tape, flexing my hand to feel the snug grip. Across the room, Coach was chalking up the tactics board, his back to us. The only sound was the faint, muffled roar of the crowd already gathering in the court outside.
Coach fuckface: today we're winning, today we're going back to being the best. Today Starling is going back home with the win, am I clear?.
Team: yes coach.
Coach fuckface: now we match out. Let's go.
Coach threw the door open and the sudden blast of noise was like a physical punch. It was a chaotic mix of screaming fans, the relentless thrum of the drumline, and the smell of popcorn and sweat. The light felt like a thousand spotlights focused only on the narrow tunnel we were in.
Jensen stepped out first, followed by the rest of the starting lineup. The crowd was almost entirely in Victory Academy's colors, a wave of deep blue and gold that surged and roared as we emerged, honestly I expected much, they only allowed us to bring 30 students as spectators.
I was the last one out, as I hit the polished hardwood, I ignored the taunts raining down from the stands. My eyes went straight across the court to the seats reserved for the VIPs, there Mr white West and Mr Okoro sat, accompanied by Seraphina and Tephnine. Seraphina caught my eye immediately. She didn't cheer, she didn't call out, she just gave a single, slow nod, a tiny gesture that acknowledged everything that had passed between us. It was a silent, confident promise that she remembered my guarantee.
Victory players were already stretched out near midcourt, looking relaxed and annoyingly pristine in their jerseys.
I felt the heat rush into my face, not from the arena lights, but from pure, focused adrenaline. My fingers gripped the collar of my jersey.
Five wins out of eight. Indeed this was not a rivalry.
Taking a deep breath, I walked toward our bench, keeping my gaze locked straight ahead. This was it. No more talk about wealth, no more excuses about team spirit. Tonight was about results. And Seraphina unknowingly to her, had just lit the fire under the team that was going to deliver them.
The whistle screamed, and the ball went up. Victory Academy's center, towering over Matt, tapped the ball to their point guard, a guy called Marcus. The home crowd erupted, a solid wall of sound pressing down on the court. It's just the start, shut your fucking mouths up.
Next thing I knew Marcus was streaking down the floor, before He pulled up just inside the three-point line and drained the first basket. 2-0, Victory Academy. What the fuck!. How did that even happen, we'll need a quick response.
Almost as if they all read my mind, everyone moved with unity and a goal. Jensen received an inbound pass from Damian and he didn't look for a play, he looked for me. He zipped a pass that went through two defenders. While on the move I caught it, blowing past my own defender with a powerful burst, and I didn't even bother with a layup, I forcefully slammed it down, 2-2. The force of the dunk shaked the rim. I had to pass a message, No easy points for them. For every shot they attempt to take, We answer immediately.
The received the message cause next thing we knew Victory Academy began slowing the tempo, working the ball around the perimeter. I just locked onto Marcus, guarding him with a type of ferocity that borders on fouling. Marcus tried to drive, but i shuffled my feet, cutting off the lane. Showing Frustration, Marcus kicked the ball out, and from no where a different Victory player hit a contested jumper. 4-2, Victory. Like, what the actual fuck?.
On our next possession, the pressure on Jace became enormous. They've been giving him zero chance of making any attempt. I guess they already knew about him being our "Rainmaker". Jensen seeing this, did a one-two pass with Matt, and before we knew it. He made a layup, 4-4, game on. The game went on at a terrifying pace, with both teams scoring at every possession.
Around the three minute mark, Victory missed their first shot of the game, a rushed three-pointer. I hurriedly grabbed the rebound and pushed the pace, flying up the sideline. Seeing how I've drew most of the defence to myself at the top of the key, I whipped the ball across the court to Jace. He took one breath, planted his feet, and launched.
Swoosh!, 17-14, starling strike. Our first lead of the game.
The entirety of the Victory Academy crowd began groaning, a sound of surprise and maybe disbelief, while our bench were on their feet, Coach shouting encouragements.
Victory Academy almost immediately, called a timeout. As the players trotted to their benches, my eyes remained fixed on the score board. The arrogant confidence from last night is gone, replaced by a calculating intensity. The score is only 17-14, but the dynamic has already shifted.
The first three minutes have established that this is a fight, not a friendly competition.
After the timeout, the game exploded, living up to every one's expectation. This wasn't the type of performance Seraphina remembered. This was war.
Victory Academy leaned on their precision and speed. Marcus, drove hard, drawing fouls and hitting clean mid-range jumpers. We responded with sheer intensity, driven by the furious energy of our pride on the line.
Every time Victory pulled ahead by two, I would answer. If they made three, Jace found a way to do the same. Our trio weren't just scoring, we were a wall on defense. On one occasion, I stripped the ball from Marcus and flying down the court blasted a two-handed dunk. The arena, mostly blue and gold, went silent from a bit of genuine shock.
Today coach made Jensen play my role, and he did it perfectly. Weaving through traffic and delivering razor-sharp passes. He didn't miss an open teammate, racking up assists and keeping the offense flowing when Victory tried to isolate me.
By the end of the second quarter, the scoreboard showed how tight the battle was: Victory Academy 47, Starling strike 46. Victory held a slight edge, but only because they were forced to play their best game of their lives to match our fire.
The third quarter started with Victory pressing their advantage. A guy called Anthony, who had been quiet, took control, hitting a deep three and then forcing a turnover that resulted in an easy layup. The score climbed to 50–46 for Victory. The crowd was deafening, sensing the upcoming collapse, I called a timeout.
Me: Jensen, I know you're the captain, but can I say something quick?.
Jensen: (nodding) you called for this, carry on.
Me: Thanks. I'll be straightforward, we're playing good, but for us to win this guys we'll need to play better than good. These guys are all good players, from Marcus to their last man, they are all good. But one thing I've noticed, they are good individually, but collectively?, they're shit. We isolate em, we flood em. They already suck at being team players, let's just intensely put more pressure on em. I can feel it, this is our moment. We're winning this today. Not just for us, not just for coach, not just for Mr white, but for the name Starling Strike. Are y'all with me.
Team: (being vocal) yes we are!.
Me: then let's fucking go.
Back on the court, we were welcomed with cheers from our fans and jeers from the rival fans. I choosed to not speak, instead map out my goal and next play. Taunting Marcus had been my goal from the first quarter and now it finally paid off.
Quickly receiving the ball from James who had been brought in, I took the ball, crossed Marcus over with a brutal shift, and drove straight at the center, scoring the basket while absorbing a hard foul. One free throw to us. Jensen didn't waste it. 3 points back.
On the very next possession, jensen drove, drawing the defense to him, then fired a bullet pass to Jace, waiting in the corner. Swish!. Another three points made.
The sequence sparked a quick 6–0 run for us, and the lead flipped. Jace, his confidence surging, hit another three points from the wing as the clock ticked down. The constant noise of the crowd turned into frustrated murmurs.
By the end of the third quarter, We had already weathered the storm and taken the lead: Starling strike 72, Victory Academy 68.
The fourth quarter wasn't a contest, it was a statement. The psychological shift was complete. Victory Academy were playing confused and disrupted, the little teamwork they had was single-handedly destroyed by us.
The quarter belonged to Jace, living upto his name, 'The Rainmaker'.
He was unstoppable. Every time Victory tried to cut the lead, Jace launched it. From the top of the key, from the hashmark, even one contested shot from a ridiculous distance, they all dropped. He finished the quarter with an incredible five three-pointers, turning a fragile lead into a blowout.
Jensen directed traffic, setting up a perfect pick-and-roll that left me open for a spectacular reverse layup. One of my highlights of the game. But I made sure to never ease up, I wanted to mock them the same way Seraphina mocked us. I didn't just want to win, I wanted us to win by a landslide. My final act was a clean steal on Marcus who was already looking out of place as he desperately tried to drive, which led to a fast break finish.
The final minutes were a slow, agonizing moment for Victory Academy, who at this point had already gotten tired of grumbling.
The final horn became something of a mercy, a relief for the home fans who were watching their team suffer.
Final Score: Starling Strike 110, Victory Academy 78.
They of course still have the upper hand when you look at the head-to-head, but the 32-point difference we just made have forever been cemented. Now we have a bragging right of ours.
TO BE CONTINUED*********