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Basketball Fire
墨書 Inktalez
The moment the ball was thrown into the air, it felt as if the entire world had been pressed on fast forward. Jokic sprang into action, his movements slow yet somehow inserting commands into the fabric of time and space, as he slapped the ball to Harden. The instant Harden caught it, the floor seemed to flash with light; his steps were so light it was as if he were dancing on musical notes. Dribbling, he tapped the floor and smirked, "It's time to showcase some real artistry."
Giannis Antetokounmpo had already cut in from beyond the three-point line, moving so swiftly that he left only a blur of muscle in his wake. Harden passed behind him, and the ball traced a perfect arc through the air—poetic and picturesque—landing in Giannis's hands. He soared into the air, defying gravity itself. With a resounding bang, he slammed down a one-handed dunk that made the rim groan in submission. Just three seconds into the game, Coach Popo was already frowning, while Mother Zhang jotted down notes on the ball's angle and speed, discreetly sending a message to her corporate spy.
Curry was unhurried. He glided across half-court like a street poet, lightly tapping his chest twice before signaling to the sky. The arena lights flickered—not a malfunction, but Curry’s three-point warning. Before Giannis could even react, Curry leaped from midcourt like a bouncing artist, effortlessly releasing the ball as if it were moonlight cascading onto the ground. The ball sliced through the air and swished through the net without a sound from the Brooklyn Nets. The crowd fell silent for two seconds before erupting.
KD retaliated with a stoic demeanor. He resembled an unsheathed sword, his fingertips representing an unstoppable release point. Facing Tatum, he merely raised his hand; Tatum hadn’t even jumped when the ball sailed over his head like a tear falling into the ocean—silent yet impactful. KD didn’t celebrate; instead, he scanned the court with his gaze as if asking: Who can stop me?
Kyrie Irving then danced like he was on a rhythm game machine. With consecutive spins, crossovers, behind-the-back moves, and changes of direction, he nearly sent Harden tumbling. The audience gasped in unison at this display; someone even shouted, "We just witnessed the Phantom Step!" Kyrie flew into the Restricted Area where Jokic came to defend him. Yet Kyrie changed direction mid-air; as he went for a layup, it looked as if he were swimming through water—so soft it defied reality. His fingertips lightly brushed against the ball's edge as it climbed up the backboard and gently fell through the net.
The score stood at 12-12 after just three minutes of play; both teams seemed to have condensed an entire NBA Finals into this brief opening segment. Jay Chou stood at the sidelines with a deepening gaze; picking up a microphone, he began to sing: "From here... to there, just five steps." This wasn’t merely music; it was a tactical command.
Bill entered next. In his first possession, he silenced the crowd completely. Receiving Harden’s pass, he spun around Wembanyama and launched a three-pointer over Tatum. The arc of his shot was so perfect it seemed drawn by an angel’s fingertip; when it went in, everyone held their breath. Jay Chou nodded approvingly: "Not bad; I can smell three-pointers in the air."
But then Mother Zhang suddenly chuckled as a mysterious figure burst from the bench—it was Poole, who had just been recalled unexpectedly. Without even touching the ball, he muttered to himself: "I’m the main character; I’m the climax!" Poole launched a three-pointer from midcourt during a fast break with an odd trajectory that bore no resemblance to trained shooting techniques. Yet it went in, followed by a somersault landing that ignited the crowd. Popo turned coldly to Mother Zhang: "Are you sure he's mentally stable?"
"Don’t worry; he’s just received his share of dividends and wants to win more than anyone else."
Durant didn’t give them any breathing room, scoring two consecutive pull-up layups that sent James into a rage as he began directing everyone on court. LeBron switched into old-man mode—alley-ooping to Tatum, putting back Wembanyama’s miss, and backing down KD for three straight scores like a deity descending from above.
Both sides plunged into chaos. Every offensive play felt like warfare; every defensive stand felt like penance. Wembanyama blocked Giannis’s shot which ricocheted off the ceiling and was retrieved by Poole who threw up another wild shot—yet somehow it went in for another three-pointer. The opposing bench nearly stormed onto the court in protest.
As the first quarter neared its end, Harden broke through Curry’s defense and twisted mid-air like an odd axis before tossing the ball upward. Jokic swooped in unnoticed from above to catch it for an emphatic dunk! Everyone thought that would be the last play of the quarter as the score reached 29-27.
Little did anyone know, Curry took the ball without hesitation and launched a LOGO SHOT. No dribbling, no second thoughts; with a swift motion, the ball lingered in the air for two seconds, as if the god of basketball himself had caught it and nodded in approval for it to go through the net.
The shot was good, and the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the first quarter. The score stood at 30 to 29, with the opposing team temporarily in the lead.
On the sidelines, Mother Zhang opened her phone, revealing a mysterious text message: "Acquired 40% stake; next quarter, we can activate the 'Aroma Penetration' strategy."
Jay Chou glanced at the other side and whispered, "I smell betrayal."
As the second quarter began, the atmosphere in the arena reached a boiling point. Stars in the audience stood up, and even the commentators in the broadcast booth were at a loss for words. An old-school veteran broadcaster was even teary-eyed: "I've watched basketball for thirty years, and I've never seen a game that felt so much like a comic book..."
Both teams made slight adjustments to their lineups, but all core stars remained on the court. This was no ordinary game; it was a direct clash of elite souls.
Curry opened with a bang, hitting two consecutive three-pointers that ignored all defense, pulling the score away from reality at light speed. As the ball left his hands, it felt as if all the air was compressed; everyone could only hear that crisp swish of the net. This wasn't just shooting; it was a declaration of faith.
Harden furrowed his brow but moved with an elegance that couldn't be ignored, maintaining an undeniable rhythm. He dribbled like he was playing piano, each bounce hitting the beat perfectly. Suddenly, he took a step back, leaving his defender hypnotized for half a second. He shot! Clean and precise! The ball swished through the net. His expression remained neutral as he turned away, but his calm and confident silhouette seemed to say, "We haven't even begun our real performance."
Then came Kyrie. Receiving Curry's pass, he instantly weaved through three defenders like magic, his footwork defying gravity itself. With crossovers, behind-the-back moves, and a spin, he executed a layup at an impossible angle. The ball spun around the rim twice before gently falling in. As he landed, he resembled a dancer, even giving his jersey a light flick; the entire crowd rose to their feet in applause.
KD didn’t need words; his way of speaking was through scoring. His mid-range shots were so accurate they made one question if he had emerged from some mathematical equation. He caught the ball, turned, jumped, and shot—a process so simple it hardly felt like an offense—but no one could stop him. His gaze was icy as if to say, "This world consists only of me and the hoop."
And Tatum? He was like lightning in adversity. He ran across the court—defending, blocking shots, fast-breaking, and rebounding—embodying five positions in one warrior. He managed to contain KD for one play but then soared to grab a rebound and turned for a three-pointer in an instant. His teammates looked at him as if they were seeing this young leader anew.
Wembanyama had completely unlocked his "future player" mode. He blocked Giannis Antetokounmpo’s soaring layup with one hand and then received a pass from beyond the arc before taking an Eurostep into the Restricted Area and slamming it down with both hands—a move that felt like visual violence. He appeared as if he were an undisclosed prototype designed by God himself suddenly manifesting on Earth.
Poole went wild on the sidelines. No longer waiting for the signal to enter the game, he dashed onto the court, snatched a falling board, and immediately turned to take a quick three-pointer! As the ball soared through the air, he was already celebrating, making a heart gesture with his hands towards the female fans in the stands. The shot went in. Coach Popo was furious and took off his jacket on the spot, but Mother Zhang patted his shoulder and said, "Let him fly; the stocks are soaring."
Bill quietly took over the rhythm of the game. He wasn’t the flashiest player, but he was the kind of assassin who brought reality back to the game with every shot. He seized an opportunity when the opponents switched defenses, executed a turnaround jumper off the backboard, and then successfully stole the ball behind Curry's back, finishing with a fast-break layup. Everyone thought he was just a sixth man, but little did they know he was the quietest killer on the court.
Jay Chou stood on the sidelines with his hands in his pockets, softly humming "In the Name of the Father." His gaze remained steady because he knew these players weren’t just playing basketball; they were orchestrating a war.
In the final possession before halftime, LeBron took control of the offense. With just a look, he directed his entire team into position. With five seconds left on the clock, he drove into the Restricted Area, drawing three defenders before making a behind-the-back pass. The ball slipped through two defenders' gaps and landed perfectly in Wembanyama's hands. Without hesitation, he slammed it down with both hands! The rim shook as the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the second quarter.
The score stood at:
Curry's Team 63 : Heavenly Kings Team 62
Just one point separated them, but the atmosphere had completely shifted. This wasn’t about who was leading; it was about who could endure until the end and whose spirit and skills could withstand this divine-level contest.
During halftime, Poole was pulled aside for a calming talk; Popo’s gaze was icy while Mother Zhang opened her laptop and said, "It’s time to activate Plan B."
Meanwhile, Jay Chou pulled out a tactical diagram from behind him, prominently featuring the words: "Night Chapter Seven" — full-court pressure plus three-point barrage strategy.
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