Chapter 10 | The Last Ones Remaining

Before the fourth quarter began, the scoreboard’s numbers were glaring.

Down by twelve.

Not impossible to catch up, but for this team, it was near the limit. The bench knew it. No one spoke loudly. Only the soft scrape of sneakers on the floor filled the gym.

Zero stood, rolled his shoulders.

Coach Zhou didn’t set any complicated plays. He just said,
“Play the fourth like the third.”

Zero nodded.

He knew what that meant—
No risks. No gambling everything.

The first two minutes of the fourth quarter, the opponent stayed steady.

They didn’t rush to score. They pressed the clock, forcing mistakes. Zero could tell their point guard was starting to back off from direct pressure, directing the team more than contesting.

That was Zero’s opening.

First possession.

Zero dribbled past half-court. No screens. He stood at the top of the arc, letting the clock tick down eight seconds.

Suddenly—hand to hand.

Inside player caught the pass, rolled down.

Foul.

One of two free throws made.

Score difference: eleven.

Second possession.

The opponents tried the same press.

Zero sent the ball early to the corner. Teammate shot.

Miss.

But the rebound was grabbed.

Another pass.

Mid-range shot.

Swish.

Score difference: nine.

People at the sidelines began standing.

The opponent called timeout.

When play resumed, the opponent increased defensive intensity, trying to end the game in one push. Two attacks directly at Zero:

One steal attempt failed.

One foul.

Zero sank both free throws.

Score difference: seven.

Coach Zhou remained expressionless, fingers lightly tapping his clipboard.

Halfway through the fourth, Zero was breathing heavily, but his mind was unusually clear.

He knew one thing—
This game wasn’t designed for him.

Final three minutes.

Opponent point guard turned the intensity back up, trying to close it out with experience.

One pick-and-roll.

Zero was hung on the screen.

Opponent mid-range shot—good.

Score difference back to nine.

Zero didn’t panic.

He ran down the clock to the last five seconds, then suddenly initiated.

Not a drive.

A draw.

Defense collapsed.

He passed to the weak side.

Three-pointer.

Swish.

Score difference: six.

Final two minutes.

The gym finally erupted.

The opponent grew anxious.

One hesitant pass—Zero anticipated, cut the lane.

Steal.

Zero didn’t go for the layup.

He stopped, controlled the ball, and passed securely to a trailing teammate.

Two points.

Score difference: four.

Coach Zhou stood.

Opponent timeout.

Timeout over—the opponent brought in all their starters.

Final minute.

Opponent had possession.

They played cautiously, swinging the ball around the perimeter. In the end, the point guard forced a drive.

Zero stayed close.

No steal. No contact.

Just positioning.

Shot.

Miss.

Rebound scramble.

Ball pops out.

Zero grabs it.

The gym falls silent for a fraction of a second.

He pushes into the frontcourt.

Time slipping.

He glances at the scoreboard.

Glances at teammate positions.

Then—he stops.

Not driving. Not passing.

Just secure.

The opponent is forced to foul.

Zero steps to the line.

First free throw—good.

Second free throw—good.

Score difference: two.

Final twenty seconds.

The gym is roaring.

But in the end, the opponent executes a clean sideline play, sealing the game.

Whistle.

Score final.

Loss.

Zero stands at center court. Sweat drips down his chin.

No disappointment.

Coach Zhou approaches, pats his back.

“Remember this quarter,” the coach says, “You’re not the one who carried us to win.”

Zero looks up.

“But you’re the one who gave us the chance to win.”

The bus ride home is quiet.

Some sleep, some scroll on their phones.

The senior point guard sits a row ahead, glances back.

“You controlled that stretch really well.”

Zero nods.

“Thanks.”

Outside the window, city lights blur past.

Zero leans back, eyes closed.

For the first time, he clearly understands—
His role on this team isn’t a hero.

It’s the last piece, the stabilizer that can’t be lost.