"Ahhhh!"

An instant quietness engulfed the court. Their excitement and loud noises had been pierced by that agonizing scream.

What the hell just happened?

"It's Lake!" someone yelled in the murmuring crowd. "Lake Everett is down!"

Indeed it was him. Lake Everett had just landed awkwardly after a powerful jump, and it was his yell of pain that echoed across the entire field, cutting through the cacophony of cheers, and bringing everyone to a haunting silence.

Lake's body was on the ground, he clutched his knee, his face had turned red and his muscles tensed. It was clear that the young boy was in tremendous pain.

The game against the Black Thunders came to an abrupt halt as players from both teams converged around him in a flurry of concern.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you!?" Chums approached Ryo Takahashi with anger in his face.

Ryo smirked and raised his hands in mock innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah, right. You fucking liar. I saw you!" Chums made a lunge at him, but was instantly held back by the rest of his teammates.

The referee intervened and blew his whistle, bringing the altercation to an end. Chums still looked visibly pissed, and Ryo... well the smug assassin could not care any less.

The stadium was in a frenzy at this point. Fans stood on their feet, the cheerleaders were not at all cheerful, and everyone's faces bore worry and disbelief. A murmur rippled through the stands, and even the commentators struggled to find their words.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've just witnessed something tragic," the commentator's voice trembled. "Lake Everett, the star player for the Firefoxes, appears to be in severe distress. It looks like he's hurt his leg badly. We hope it's not as serious as it seems."

But it was as serious as it seemed. Everyone knew it. Even Lake as he laid there, clutching his leg in agony. Even his teammates, surrounding him with their faces twisted with concern, and even the opposing team standing in shocked silence.

Medical personnel arrived swiftly. They carefully examined Lake, who was still writhing in pain, tears streaming down his face.

They tried their best to reassure him, but he could barely hear anything they were saying over the throbbing agony in his leg.

"Just hang in there, Lake. We're going to get you through this," one of the medics said, though the uncertainty in their voice was tangible.

They gently lifted him onto a stretcher, and Lake's eyes, wide with pain, searched for familiar faces.

His best buds, his teammates — Chums, Jefferson, and Alex — were standing there with faces etched with concern and fear. Lake could also see Vanessa, his girlfriend, standing a few paces away in her cheerleader outfit, her face painted with anxiety.

How come she never came to check on me? His fading thought asked.

Lake grunted and tried not to think about anything, he ignored the tears on his face and the tense silence of the atmosphere.

It's going to be alright, he lied to himself. It's going... to be alright.

As the medics wheeled him away, Lake's vision blurred. The murmurs of the crowd and even his own thoughts sounded distant, and he fainted from the pain and shock.

✯

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Lake slowly began to stir awake.

I'm in a hospital, aren't I? I recognise that beeping sound anywhere.

He opened his eyes to the sterile, bright light of a hospital room, affirming his suspicions. There was a beeping sound of medical equipment and a faint murmur of distant conversation creeping into his conscience.

His leg still throbbed, and a dull ache radiated through his body.

Fuck, Lake swore. Fuck, fuck. This doesn't seem good.

A doctor, with a serious expression, noticed that he had stirred awake and walked towards him, then stood by his bed. In his hand was one of the few things Lake could recognize in a hospital — an X-ray film.

Lake tried to predict the severity of his situation by looking at the doctor's face, but the facial expressions of doctors were as difficult to read as their handwriting. So, he gave up the moment he started.

"Lake, good to see you awake," the doctor said.

"How bad is it, doc?" Lake inquired, not wanting to listen to anything else.

The doctor sidestepped the question and asked another. "How are you feeling?"

This caused Lake to frown. "I'll be feeling a whole lot better once you tell me how bad it is. What is it? A dislocation? How long am I going to be out? When can I begin training?"

A sigh escaped the doctor, and his initially unreadable gaze clearly showed pity now.

"Lake, I'm afraid you won't be able to play basketball ever again."

Dum!

It sounded like a hammer, or a drum, but it was actually Lake's heart falling into his stomach, sinking while his eyes widened in his disbelief.

"W— w— what?" he stuttered.

The doctor continued, his voice steady but solemn. "You've torn your ACL, shattered it actually. The injury is severe, and unfortunately, you won't be able to play basketball again."

Lake shook his head vigorously. "No. N— no. This is a joke, right? You're joking. Did the boys put you up to this? Did Chums tell you to do this?"

The doctor's response was a gentle shake of the head. "I'm sorry, Lake. But there is no joke here."

Lake could feel blood rising to his head. "No, that can't be right. There has to be something you can do. I can't just — just be done. I can't."

"These things happen, Lake. I'm truly sorry," the doctor said softly. "The damage is extensive. Surgery might help with mobility, but it won't restore your ability to play basketball, or any basic sport."

"No, you're not listening!" Lake slammed his hand against the bed. "You're taking my life from me, doc. Basketball... it's my life. It's all I have. I just... I can't be done. I need this. Please."

The doctor gave him a soft look of pity that only angered him the more. "I am sorry, Lake."

He walked away from the bed, leaving Lake lying there in disbelief and incredulity.

This can't be happening, he cried in his thoughts.

The door quietly opened, and his teammates and best friends, who had been silent witnesses to the grim exchange, approached, looking at him with solemn eyes.

Lake glanced at them one after the other, bitterness and pain in his heart. "Did we win?"

Chums shook his head.

"They trashed us, man," Alex said. " Fifty-five to twenty-one."

Lake cursed under his breath. He listened to his friends' silence for a while, though he started to get irritated by it. His ego could not let him accommodate being pitied.

"You heard?" he asked them.

"Yeah," Jefferson said. He stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Lake's shoulder. "Man, we're so sorry. We wanted this to be our year, but it ain't gonna be the same without you."

"Jeff's right." Chums added. "We were in this together. The State Cup is our dream, all of us. Now even if we somehow win it's going to leave a bitter taste in our mouths. You don't deserve this, Lake."

"You're the best of us. The heart of the team," Alex chimed in. "This is... just so hard."

Lake remained quiet, gazing at the ceiling as he listened to his friends. Nice words. Assuring even, but he wasn't certain they actually meant them. He knew eventually he would get replaced and everyone would forget about him.

Lake grimaced, his jaw clenched. He could not let that happen.

Jefferson wished Lake a speedy recovery, and left the room alongside Alex. But Chums stayed, reclined against the wall with folded arms.

"I wanted to promise you that I'll make sure Ryo Takahashi pays for this." Chums said with a firm tone. "But you know what? You're going to do it yourself. You have to, Lake. Screw the doc, screw what everyone else says. You have to find a way to return to the court and stop the Thunders from winning the title again."

"You hear me, Lake? The Firefoxes are nothing without their Golden Flame," Chums added before leaving the room.

But not long after, the door opened once again.

Lake cursed. "Who is it now?"

"Lake?"

His eyes widened in the realization, he looked down to see his girlfriend, looking at him with a conflicted, fearful expression. "Vanessa?"

She approached him, her gaze falling on his bandaged leg.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he joked.

Vanessa did not seem to appreciate his comic, her bright blue eyes appeared to shy away from his face. "Lake... I... uhm."

Lake furrowed his brows. "Vanessa? What's wrong?"

"Lake —" Her voice trembled, "I'm so sorry. I can't be with you if you're not going to be the star you were. I need someone who can help me with my career, and..."

Lake wasn't sure he had heard correctly. What?! Is she breaking up with me? Here? Now!?

"Vanessa, what are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm so sorry!" Her voice cracked as she turned away and ran off, leaving Lake alone with the harsh reality of his new situation.

Did that just fucking happen? Did she just break up with me? What the hell is going on? Why is every possible horrible thing that could happen to me happening in the same day?

Lake felt an overwhelming wave of despair. He buried his face in his hands, fighting tears. His dream, his future, had been ripped away in an instant.

"Why... Why is this all happening to m— Ouch! Argh!"

Just as the tears started to form, an unbearable pain struck his head.

It was sharp, intense, and disorienting, like a needle piercing his brain. Lake attempted to call for the doctor, but before he could make a sound, something even stranger happened.

Right before him, some kind of yellowish interface had manifested. It was fairly translucent and had symbols that reminded Lake about sci-fi movies.

But what was even stranger was the glowing text written on this interface;

[What will you give for a second chance?]