A week had passed since Fergus’s first official training session for the Wallace Memorial U13 basketball team, and basketball had already begun settling into a new routine.
Team training occupied Tuesdays and Thursdays, lunchtime usually involved playing with Arthur and William, and Fergus still visited the public court whenever homework, weather and family responsibilities allowed.
Coach McKenzie had made it clear during that first session where Fergus currently stood within the team.
He wasn’t close to the starting five, his shooting needed considerable work, and his ability to create opportunities for teammates was limited, but he defended hard, ran constantly and could score simple shots around the basket.
For the moment, that made him useful.
On a cool afternoon in September, however, Fergus wasn’t thinking about his place in McKenzie’s rotation.
He stood beneath the basket at the public court, staring at a familiar translucent screen that had been occupying his thoughts for considerably longer than he originally expected.
‘Mikan Maestro’ ‘Tier: Grey – Basic Understanding’ ‘Advancement Requirement: Complete 100 successful right-handed repetitions and 100 successful left-handed repetitions every day for 30 consecutive days.’ ‘Current Streak: 29/30.’ One more day.
When Fergus had first seen the advancement requirement during the summer holidays, he had assumed Mikan Maestro would become his first naturally ascended basketball skill within a month.
Two hundred successful repetitions every day sounded like a lot, but Fergus enjoyed practising enough that the number itself didn’t bother him.
Once his finishing improved, completing the required repetitions usually took less than an hour.
The difficult part was completing them for thirty consecutive days.
Fergus had discovered that distinction during his first attempt.
He had been well over halfway through the requirement when he became ill during the summer break.
It wasn’t anything serious, but a fever, blocked nose and aching body were enough for his mother to immediately forbid him from going anywhere near the public court.
Fergus had tried arguing that he only needed an hour and could take things slowly, which hadn’t gone particularly well when his mother was both a nurse and completely unimpressed by his attempt at medical reasoning.
The System hadn’t cared why he missed the session.
His streak returned to zero.
Fergus had been furious when he saw the reset, particularly because there was nothing he could do about it.
Thirty consecutive days meant exactly what it said, and being sick didn’t magically transform twenty-something completed days into thirty.
Once he recovered, he started again.
His second attempt had survived the remainder of the summer holidays, the return to school, tryouts and his first week as an actual member of Wallace Memorial’s basketball team.
There had been afternoons when fitting in two hundred successful repetitions was inconvenient, particularly once homework and team training began taking more of his time, but Fergus refused to allow the counter to reset again.
Now he was finally on the thirtieth day.
Fergus dismissed the interface and began with his right hand.
The drill felt completely different from when he first started practising it.
During the earliest sessions, Fergus had needed to consciously think about almost every part of the movement.
His footwork would become confused, he occasionally jumped from the wrong leg, and judging how much force to use against the backboard had been surprisingly difficult.
Thousands of repetitions had gradually removed most of that uncertainty.
Fergus stepped beneath the basket, lifted the basketball with his right hand and placed it softly against the backboard.
He caught it after it dropped through, moved across the rim and repeated the action from the other angle before continuing in a steady rhythm.
Mikan Maestro hadn’t simply made him better at layups.
Basic Understanding had shown Fergus what he should be paying attention to, while A Star’s Work Ethic helped him process those lessons and recognise mistakes more quickly.
The improvement itself had still required thousands of movements performed correctly enough for his body to become comfortable with them.
His right hand reached one hundred without much difficulty.
‘Right Hand: 100/100.’ Fergus collected the basketball and moved on to his left.
His weaker hand remained behind his right, but the difference was considerably smaller than it had been before summer.
Fergus used to avoid left-handed finishes whenever possible, sometimes contorting his body into awkward positions simply because using his right hand felt safer.
The Mikan repetitions had gradually forced that habit out of him.
He began the second hundred.
The basketball touched the backboard and fell through.
Fergus caught it and repeated the movement.
As the repetitions accumulated, his thoughts wandered towards the previous week of team training.
The starting five had become even clearer since the first session.
Arthur was the team’s best playmaker, Finn provided shooting, Jaime was their most dangerous individual scorer, William gave them size and versatility, while Merrick’s strength and experience made him the obvious centre.
Fergus couldn’t offer anything comparable yet.
His jumper remained one of the weakest on the roster, despite the additional shooting work he had begun doing after practice.
Tight Handles was improving his comfort when dribbling with either hand, but it only addressed basic control and didn’t suddenly give him the ability to break defenders down.
His passing was acceptable when the correct decision was obvious, yet he remained noticeably slower than Arthur whenever McKenzie introduced drills requiring players to read multiple options.
What kept Fergus involved were the simpler parts of basketball.
He could defend.
He could run.
He could finish around the basket.
McKenzie seemed particularly pleased with the first two.
The coach rarely praised anyone excessively, but Fergus had already learned that a sharp “Good defence, Robertson” meant far more coming from him than a lengthy compliment from most people.
The basketball dropped through again.
‘Left Hand: 78/100.’ Fergus returned his attention fully to the drill.
Twenty-two successful repetitions remained.
He had already completed far more than the six thousand successful finishes theoretically required for a thirty-day streak because his first attempt hadn’t vanished from his body simply because the System reset the counter.
Every repetition from that failed streak had still improved his footwork, touch and comfort with his weaker hand.
That had been an important lesson.
Failing an advancement requirement didn’t mean the training had been wasted.
Fergus continued until the counter reached ninety, then deliberately slowed himself down.
He didn’t want excitement about finishing the requirement to cause sloppy technique during the final few repetitions.
Ninety-five became ninety-six.
Then ninety-seven.
At ninety-nine, Fergus caught the basketball beneath the rim and took a moment before beginning the final repetition.
There was no audience waiting for him and nothing particularly dramatic about what he was doing.
After all the work required to reach this point, the final action was simply another left-handed finish identical to hundreds he had completed before.
Fergus stepped towards the basket, lifted from the correct foot and released the ball softly from his left hand.
It touched the square and dropped through.
A notification appeared almost immediately.
‘Advancement Requirement Complete.’ Fergus caught the basketball and held it against his hip as the message changed.
‘Skill Ascension Available.’ ‘Mikan Maestro has satisfied all requirements for advancement from Grey Tier – Basic Understanding to Green Tier – Intermediate Understanding.’ ‘Ascend Skill?’ ‘Yes / No’ Fergus smiled.
“Yes.” The Mikan Maestro card emerged from Player Skills.
Its familiar Grey border gradually brightened before shifting into Green, leaving Fergus staring at the first basketball skill that he had personally advanced beyond Basic Understanding.
‘Skill Ascended.’ ‘Mikan Maestro’ Tier: Green – Intermediate Understanding.’ An updated description appeared beneath the skill.
‘The host has progressed beyond the fundamental understanding of basic close-range finishing.’ ‘At Intermediate Understanding, repeated training has developed significantly greater consistency when completing standard uncontested layups from familiar angles with either hand.’ ‘The host will begin developing the ability to preserve finishing mechanics against minor defensive interference, including light pressure, late contests and limited disruption near the basket.’ ‘Intermediate Understanding does not provide mastery of contact finishing, advanced finishing angles or scoring against established rim protection.
Physical strength, balance, coordination and practical experience remain relevant.’ Fergus read the description carefully.
The first improvement immediately appealed to him.
Consistency around the basket had already become one of the few offensive strengths McKenzie trusted, and advancing Mikan Maestro appeared to reinforce that strength.
Wide-open layups from familiar angles wouldn’t become literally impossible to miss, but Fergus would now understand the movements well enough that an uncontested basic finish should be something he converted with considerable regularity.
The second part interested him even more.
“What exactly counts as minor defensive interference?” The System responded almost immediately.
‘Minor defensive interference may include a late-arriving defender, an extended arm contest that does not substantially alter the host’s path, light body contact, restricted visual space or other limited defensive pressure.
Intermediate Understanding does not guarantee successful finishing against such interference.
It improves the host’s comprehension of adjustments required to maintain control, balance and finishing technique.’ Fergus nodded slowly as he considered what that meant.
Actual games rarely provided the perfectly uncontested layups he had spent the summer practising.
Defenders chased from behind, reached across the body, raised an arm near the release point or arrived just late enough to make a simple finish uncomfortable.
Fergus had encountered those situations repeatedly during team training, and his results were inconsistent whenever somebody disrupted the rhythm he had developed through the Mikan Drill.
An intermediate understanding of Mikan Maestro wouldn’t make those contests irrelevant.
It would begin teaching him how to finish despite them.
Fergus looked around the empty public court before recognising an obvious problem.
“Would be easier to practise that if I had someone here.” ‘Competitive application and appropriate partner-assisted training are recommended for further development.’ “Suppose I’ll find out tomorrow, then.” His next team practice was Thursday afternoon.
Fergus collected the basketball and attempted several ordinary layups before leaving.
The improvement wasn’t accompanied by any dramatic physical sensation.
His legs weren’t suddenly more explosive, and his hands hadn’t gained supernatural control over the basketball.
Instead, the movements felt clearer, almost as though he had become more aware of the small adjustments he had spent the previous two months learning.
On one attempt, Fergus approached slightly too far beneath the backboard.
Rather than forcing his usual release, he instinctively extended the basketball higher and wider, finding a better angle off the glass.
The ball dropped through.
Fergus paused beneath the rim.
That had felt different.
Not automatic.
Not effortless.
Just clearer.
He attempted several more finishes from familiar positions and noticed the same thing.
His body still needed to perform the movement correctly, but Fergus recognised errors sooner and understood how to make minor adjustments without completely losing his technique.
Before leaving, he opened Player Skills one more time.
A Star’s Work Ethic – Green Mikan Maestro – Green Perimeter Pest – Grey Suicide Sprinter – Grey Tear Dropper – Grey Tight Handles – Grey Seeing Mikan Maestro beside A Star’s Work Ethic produced more satisfaction than Fergus expected.
His work ethic had already been recognised at Green when the System appeared, whereas Mikan Maestro had started at Grey and required Fergus to earn every bit of its advancement himself.
It had taken longer than he expected.
His first streak had ended because of illness, forcing him to begin the entire thirty-day requirement again.
The second had carried him through the end of the summer holidays, the return to school, tryouts and the beginning of team training.
Now it was finally finished.
The following afternoon gave Fergus his first opportunity to discover what Intermediate Understanding actually meant against defenders.
Near the end of practice, McKenzie organised a half-court scrimmage with Fergus playing alongside several reserves against most of the starting unit.
Arthur controlled the basketball on the opposite side, while William and Merrick made the paint difficult to enter whenever Fergus’s group had possession.
For several possessions, Fergus barely touched the ball.
That didn’t bother him.
McKenzie had spent the previous week drilling the same lesson into him: defend, run, cut and finish the simple opportunities when they appeared.
Eventually, one appeared.
Fergus passed the basketball towards the top before cutting hard along the baseline.
His defender lost sight of him for just long enough that the return pass reached Fergus near the left side of the basket.
He gathered cleanly.
William reacted from the paint.
At five-foot-seven, William was several inches taller than Fergus and possessed enough length to make the finish uncomfortable.
He stepped across with one arm raised, arriving too late to completely block Fergus’s route but early enough that the layup was no longer uncontested.
A week earlier, Fergus might have rushed.
This time, he understood the angle more clearly.
He used his body to keep the basketball away from William, maintained his balance through the final step and extended with his left hand rather than twisting back towards his stronger side.
William’s arm entered his vision as Fergus released the ball, but the contest wasn’t enough to destroy his mechanics.
The basketball touched high off the backboard.
It dropped through.
Fergus landed and immediately turned to run back on defence.
McKenzie’s whistle stopped the possession.
“Robertson.” Fergus looked towards him.
McKenzie pointed towards the basket.
“That’s better.
You normally rush when someone comes across like that.
Keep your balance and make them actually stop you.” “Yes, Coach.” William gave Fergus a small nod as they reset.
McKenzie tossed the basketball back towards the top of the key.
“Again.
Let’s go.” Practice resumed, and Fergus hurried back towards his defensive position with a smile threatening to appear.
Thirty successful days.
Two hundred repetitions every day.
One failed streak and thousands of additional finishes that technically hadn’t counted towards the requirement.
All of it had eventually contributed to one ordinary left-handed layup with William arriving late to contest him.
Fergus thought it was completely worth it.