The noise of the gym was still echoing—shoes squeaking, voices shouting, the distant sound of the scoreboard buzzer still ringing in Ethan's ears. But all of that faded the moment he saw them.
His family.
Standing by the edge of the court, just past the line of cheering teammates and flashing cameras, were the three people he hadn't expected to see today.
His little sister, Anna.
His mother, Elle.
His father, Alfred.
They had been watching the whole game. From the beginning to the very end.
And now, they were here.
Anna, just 10 years old, sprinted across the court with the kind of innocent joy only children could carry, her pigtails bouncing as she ran.
"Big brother!!!" she called out, her voice high and full of excitement.
Ethan dropped to one knee just in time to catch her in his arms as she leapt into him. Her tiny frame crashed into his chest and he hugged her tightly, laughing softly as he spun her once.
"Anna…" he whispered, his voice catching in his throat as he held her tighter.
She looked up at him, beaming from ear to ear.
Behind her came Elle—his mother, graceful as ever, her eyes shimmering with tears she refused to let fall. Her smile was warm, and her hands were folded near her chest as she stepped closer.
"Ethan… I'm proud of you," she said gently.
He looked up at her, still holding Anna in his arms, and his eyes softened.
"Mother…" he said, emotion trembling in his voice.
Then came the familiar sound of heavy footsteps and a booming laugh, Alfred Albarado, his father. Broad-shouldered and confident as always, he stood tall with arms crossed and an unmistakable spark of pride in his eyes.
"As expected of my son," he said with a wide grin.
His deep voice rumbled like thunder through the gym as he walked over and gave Ethan a firm pat on the shoulder, nearly making him stumble.
"Your basketball talent was inherited from me, after all!" he laughed heartily.
Ethan couldn't help but roll his eyes with a grin, wiping away the quiet tears forming in the corners of his eyes. It wasn't just the victory that made this day unforgettable....it was this.
The warmth of family.
The pride in their eyes.
The feeling of being seen not as a background character, not as an extra—but as their son, their brother… as Ethan.
He stood up slowly, Anna still clinging to his arm, and looked at them all.
(This… This moment. This warmth. This connection. I don't hate this one bit at all…)
And for the first time in a long time…
He truly felt like he was really home.
…..
Lucas stood at the edge of the court, just a few steps away from the rest of the celebrating team. His face wore a quiet smile genuine, but laced with something softer, something unspoken.
He watched Ethan with his family, taking in the laughter, the hugs, the warmth of a reunion that made victory even sweeter. Lucas didn't envy it. Not exactly. But there was a hollow space inside him that ached gently as he imagined what that moment might have felt like… if things had been different.
His hand clenched slightly at his side, but his smile never faded.
(Mom would've loved to see this... if only she wasn't working.)
He lifted his eyes toward the empty seats in the upper bleachers. That's where he had imagined her sitting. Where he had hoped she might be, just this once.
But he knew better.
His mother CEO of BAC, the Basketball Asian Company was one of the most powerful women in the Asian basketball industry. Always on the move. Always managing athletes, arranging tournaments, making appearances. It was through her that Lucas had come to love the sport watching her navigate the professional world of basketball, watching the games of the players she trained, mentored, believed in.
She had sparked his fire.
And yet… despite everything, she couldn't be here.
Not because she didn't care, but because life had demanded too much of her already.
And of him.
Lucas swallowed hard, eyes dipping slightly.
(If only Dad wasn't in a coma… maybe she wouldn't have to carry everything alone.)
It had been three years now.
Three long, grueling years since the accident that left his father unconscious, hooked to machines, lying still in a quiet hospital room. Lucas still visited. So did his sister. And his mother—when she could spare a moment between boardrooms and court sidelines.
(Maybe… just maybe, if things were different, I could've been like them.)
But even with all that weight on his shoulders, even with no mother in the stands or father waiting at home, Lucas still smiled.
He had a purpose on the court.
And even if his family couldn't be there in person…
He'd play for them. Every single game.
No excuses.
No regrets.
Only heart.
Suddenly someone shouting
"Lucas!!"
Lucas blinked.
His heart skipped a beat when he heard the familiar voice cut through the post-game noise.
"Lucas!!!"
His head turned, scanning the crowd and then he saw her.
Standing near the edge of the court, waving enthusiastically with that wide, goofy grin she always wore when she was proud but trying not to cry, was Ayumi Brooke.
Lucas's eyes widened in surprise.
"Ayumi?" he said, almost disbelieving.
Ayumi ran up to him, slightly out of breath, her short ponytail bouncing with each step. Her cheeks were flushed, not just from the sprint across the gym, but from the overwhelming excitement in her chest.
"Heehee… I was just going to surprise you," she said, laughing softly as she leaned forward, hands on her knees. "Are you surprised?"
Lucas let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah… yeah, I am." He rubbed the back of his head, trying not to let the heat rise to his cheeks. "I didn't think you'd be here."
Ayumi stood up straighter and placed her hands on her hips in mock frustration. "Of course I came, dummy! I'm still your number one supporter, remember?"
He smiled at her genuine, warm, touched.
But behind that smile, a flicker of emotion ran through him. It hadn't been that long since Ayumi was booted from her position as the basketball club manager—thanks to Coach Fred Mason, a bitter, lazy, out-of-shape excuse of a coach. He remembered the arguments, the way Ayumi stood up for the players, for the team, how she called Fred out on his incompetence and lack of passion.
Fred didn't like that. His ego couldn't take it.
So he retaliated.
And Ayumi was pushed out.
But here she was still standing. Still cheering. Still the same fireball of energy that had always been there for him.
Lucas looked down for a moment, then up at her again.
"Thanks for coming, Ayumi."
She smiled and nodded. "Of course. That was an insane game, you know. You were amazing."
Lucas looked at her for a long moment, eyes softening as her words hit him deeper than he expected.
"I told you you could pull it off…." Ayumi's voice was gentle, teasing, but full of pride. "You were always complaining…I'm not talented,' 'I'm not good,' 'I'll forever be a bench player'... Blahblah" She chuckled, her arms crossing as she tilted her head. "I mean, look at you. That game, that play you did… it was amazing."
Lucas swallowed.
He remembered those late nights, sitting on the bench while the others played.
Remembered the self-doubt, the frustration of working hard but not being seen. The way he used to call Ayumi in the middle of the night, venting, doubting himself.
"(She never gave up on me… even when I did.)" Lucas thought, a faint heat blooming in his chest.
He gave her a big smile. "I guess you were right hehehe"
For the first time in a long time, Lucas didn't feel like just a shadow on the bench.
He glanced down at his hands the same hands that had been idle for so long, gripping towels and water bottles. But tonight, those hands had played. Had mattered.
He breathed in, heart still racing from the rush of it all, and thought quietly to himself:
"(Thank you, old man…)"
The memory of that strange meeting the mysterious old man who had handed him the pill flashed in his mind. The Power of Absolute Mimicry. A gift... or maybe a burden. But one that had finally given him a chance.
"(If it weren't for that… I'd still be sitting at the far end of the bench… invisible…)"
But not anymore.
He was brought back to the present as Ayumi waved a hand in front of his face. "What are you spacing out for?" she said with a playful frown. "Now c'mon, let's celebrate! Don't think for a second I'm letting you walk away without at least three pictures and a victory drink—" she tapped her chin, grinning, "or bubble tea. Whatever we can get."
Lucas chuckled softly, the tension in his shoulders finally beginning to ease.
"Alright, alright," he said. "But hmpp I'm not doing those weird poses you always make me do."
Ayumi laughed. "No promises! You're a star now. You've got to give the fans what they want."
As they walked off toward the rest of the team, the sound of victory still pulsing through the air. And deep inside, he made a silent vow.
"(This is just the beginning… I'm not going back to the bench. Not anymore.)"
...…
Meanwhile, a man stood alone in the dark tunnel near the gym exit, where the lights didn't shine and the sounds of celebration were faint. A man stood alone.
Dressed in a sleek black coat, his figure was sharp and composed, like someone who didn't belong among the chaos of teenagers and their triumphs. His expression was unreadable, save for the faintest smirk curled on the edge of his lips.
His eyes locked on one person.
"So his son is just like him… I thought it wasn't."
His voice was low, but laced with something chilling half curiosity, half threat as he watched Lucas Graves among the crowd, laughing with Ayumi.
He took a slow step back, his boots echoing slightly on the polished floor as he continued murmuring to himself.
"Lucas Graves…" he said the name with a strange sense of weight, as if it meant more to him than to anyone else in the world. "I hope you won't be a trouble to us in the future…"
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"…or else you might end up like your father."
With that final warning whispered into the void, he turned his back on the light, on the court, on the sound of celebration and stepped outside.
The gym doors creaked shut behind him.
And just like that…
He vanished.
To be continue