The Liberation Cup isn't gonna hand itself over nicely wrapped with a bow. We gotta go snatch it." He looked back at the pyers, already formuting the next sequence. "This feeling?

  This is what fuels that championship run."

  James found a spot against the cool, painted brick wall, away from the main huddle, nursing his water bottle. He wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but the gym carried sound. He caught snippets floating over from Kiyoshi and Ahsan – "expect," "reliance," "confidence," "opens up nes." Each word felt like another small weight added to his shoulders.

  It was different. Easier, yeah, not having to fight through that wall of doubt anymore, not feeling every missed shot amplified the skepticism. They believed now. That part was… nice.

  Unexpectedly nice. But the pressure? Man, it hadn't disappeared; it just morphed into something heavier, maybe? Before, the mission was simple: surprise them.

  Prove the doubters wrong with a few good pys. Now? The expectation was relentless. Deliver.

  Every. Single. Time. He saw Robi across the court trying to expin something about post-moves to one of the rookies, then Robi gnced over at James, then back to the rookie, probably using him as an example for something completely different.

  Then Faisal, who usually kept his head down, caught his eye from the bench, miming a quick 'where should I cut?' motion. Even the guys fighting for minutes were keying off him now. It was… a weird vortex of fttering and slightly suffocating. A lot.

  Definitely felt like a lot more than just pying ball.

  "Alright, break time's over! Let's see some hustle! Back on the floor!" Tahera’s voice, sharp and clear, sliced through the retive quiet, punctuated by her signature rapid-fire cps. She'd been a permanent fixture at the scorer's table, eyes darting between the court and her logbook, scribbling notes with intense concentration. But you could see that little upturn at the corners of her mouth – the 'things are finally clicking' smile.

  From her perch, the improvement was probably even more obvious. Drills weren't just patterns; they were coordinated attacks. Passes hit their targets with speed and precision, not hopeful lobs. Pys that used to stall out, ending in forced shots or turnovers, now seemed to have this magnetic pull towards James, creating a ripple effect that opened up seams for everyone else.

  The whole offensive engine felt like it had been stripped down and rebuilt with better parts.

  Teams were quickly reformed, diving straight back into a high-energy half-court scrimmage. The pace instantly picked back up.

  "James! James! Screen left! They're shading hard this way!" Sajid yelled, controlling the dribble near the three-point line, reading the defender leaning towards his right. "I'll use it, look for the kick-out if they help!"

  "Got you! Setting it now!" James called back, moving decisively.

  Zero hesitation from James. No 'are you sure?' look. He just moved, fluidly pnting his feet, creating that solid pick Sajid needed. "Screen's set!"

  "Using!" Sajid dribbled tight off James's shoulder, driving hard down the baseline, exactly as pnned. Predictably, like sharks smelling blood, two defenders immediately abandoned their assignments and converged on Sajid, trying to trap him near the basket. "Help coming! Kicking it!" Sajid shouted just as he made the pass.