The court was quiet except for the sound of Kendrick's breathing and the faint hum of the city in the background. The basketball felt heavier in his hands as he stared at Trenton across the cracked asphalt.
"You sure about this, Trent?" Kendrick asked, dribbling slowly. "You're really betting it all on a game?"
Trenton smirked, stepping forward. "It's not just a game, K-Dawg. This is about respect. About reminding you where you came from."
Kendrick shook his head. "Where I came from isn't where I'm staying."
Trenton's smirk faded, and his jaw tightened. "We'll see."
They checked the ball, and the game began. Trenton started aggressively, driving hard to the basket and scoring the first point with ease. Kendrick gritted his teeth. He knew Trenton wasn't just playing to win—he was playing to send a message.
As Kendrick took possession, he studied Trenton's movements. Trenton was strong and fast, but Kendrick had spent countless hours analyzing players, learning to anticipate their moves. He faked left, then cut right, pulling up for a clean jumper.
Swish.
"Alright," Trenton said, nodding as he grabbed the ball. "You got one. Let's see if you can keep it up."
The game intensified with each possession. Trenton used his size and strength to muscle his way to the hoop, while Kendrick relied on speed and precision. They traded points, the tension thick in the air.
At 10-10, Kendrick stole the ball mid-drive, racing toward the hoop for a layup. As the ball swished through the net, Trenton scowled.
"You think this means something?" Trenton snapped, bouncing the ball hard against the ground. "One game doesn't erase who you are, K-Dawg."
Kendrick caught his breath, his voice steady. "This isn't about erasing anything, Trent. It's about proving I'm more than just the streets."
Trenton glared at him, his grip on the ball tightening. "Then prove it."