"We did it," Robi said, his voice low but thick with quiet, intense satisfaction. "We actually freaking did it." Even Robi, the human embodiment of composure, was shook.
But even amidst the explosion of jubition, there was this subtle undercurrent, something a little… different. Awe, yeah, definitely awe. But also, maybe just a tiny, almost imperceptible hint of unease. They had all witnessed something extraordinary, something that messed with their heads, something that defied all logical expnations.
And the source of it all was just chilling right there among them, the quiet, unassuming James, who was currently re-tying his shoeces like he'd just finished a casual practice drill.
Whispers started to circute, hushed and half-joking, but definitely present. The kind of whispers that start as jokes but hint at a deeper, more serious question.
"Yo, did you peep how high he jumped for that rebound?"
"Dude, it's like he can actually fly, no cap!"
"Maybe… maybe he's a mutant, for real!" someone joked, but with a nervous ugh that betrayed a sliver of doubt.
"Superpowers, man! He's got legit superpowers! We've unlocked the cheat code to basketball!" another guy excimed, his voice ced with both excitement and a hint of something akin to… fear?
They were definitely joking. Mostly. But the ughter felt a little too loud, a little too forced, like they were trying to ugh away the creeping feeling that maybe, just maybe, they weren't entirely joking. There was a kernel of genuine seriousness buried beneath the Gen Z humor, a sense that what they had just witnessed was way beyond the realm of normal basketball.
James was… different. Undeniably, irrevocably, mind-blowingly different. And they were winning because of it. But the question hanging in the air, unspoken but heavy, was: what exactly was he?
Tahera, ever the pragmatist, the one who always brought the team back down to earth, even though even she was clearly mind-blown by James’s performance, decided it was time to inject a dose of reality into the superhero specution session. She cpped her hands together, the sharp sound cutting through the excited chatter like a referee's whistle.
"Alright, alright, settle down, squad," she said, her voice sharp and clear, instantly commanding attention. "Let's soak in the win for like, five seconds, because honestly, that was insane. But heads up, people, this party ain't over yet. We tied it, cool, good job, gold star for everyone. But don’t even think about getting compcent. This is halftime, not game over. We're only halfway through this rollercoaster."
She turned her ser-focused gaze towards Kiyoshi, her expression suddenly serious, all traces of amusement gone. "Kiyoshi, listen up, Captain Obvious time: Motijheel is not gonna roll over and py dead after this. They just got publicly humiliated on their own court. They’re going to come back swinging in the second half like they’re auditioning for a boxing movie. And they’re gonna ser-focus on one thing, and one thing only: shutting down James. Prepare yourselves."
She paused for dramatic effect, her eyes scanning the team, making sure everyone was locked in and listening. "From what I know about Motijheel High, and trust me, I've done my pre-game stalking – I mean, uh, homework," she added with a hint of her signature dry sarcasm, "they’re gonna put James under a microscope so intense it'll make a NASA scientist jealous.
