February 27th.
Ridgeview.
They were everything the headlines promised. Disciplined. Deep. Loud. And undefeated all season.
They also had a memory.
Last year, Ridgeview bounced Michael's current team from playoff contention in the second round—ran them off the court and laughed doing it.
Marcus still remembered the center who dunked on him and stared him down. Jamal still remembered getting benched after two turnovers in five minutes.
And Michael?
He wasn't there. But he saw the look in their eyes this week.
And he decided to carry the grudge like it was his own.
Before the game, the Ridgeview team walked into the gym in matching jumpsuits, music blaring.
Their star guard, Tyrese Bell, made a show of walking past Michael and bumping shoulders.
"Didn't think you'd make it this far, rookie."
Michael didn't react. Didn't even blink.
Until Tyrese added, "Don't fold like your boys did last year."
Michael paused. Then turned to him.
"You'll find out real quick what folding looks like. And it won't be us."
Tip-off.
Ridgeview came out hot. Clean sets. Full-court energy. Tyrese drained a deep three and pointed at the crowd.
Michael's team stumbled out of the gate.
Turnover. Foul. Missed box-out.
Timeout.
Coach Alvarez didn't yell. Just looked at Michael.
Michael stood, pulled the huddle in.
"They think this is still last year's team. Let's make 'em regret that assumption."
He clapped once.
"Let's take it."
Second quarter: the shift began.
Michael attacked Tyrese on back-to-back possessions—spin into a layup, then a jab-step pull-up.
On defense, he locked in. Drew a charge. Forced a travel.
The team followed.
Jamal found his rhythm. Marcus dominated the glass. Bench players started diving for loose balls.
By halftime, it was tied.
The third quarter was war.
Tyrese kept shooting. Michael kept answering.
They traded buckets, blocks, trash talk. But Michael didn't talk back much. He stared. He executed.
And he elevated.
Late in the third, he rose over two defenders and dunked so violently the gym went silent. Then he pointed straight at Tyrese.
"No fear in this house."
Fourth quarter.
Both teams exhausted. Both benches screaming.
Down 1, two minutes left.
Michael isolated at the top. Tyrese shaded him hard.
Stepback. Fake. Drive.
Kick to Jamal—corner three. Bang.
Next possession: Michael strips Tyrese clean.
Fast break. Windmill slam.
The gym erupted.
Final score: 81–75. Michael: 29 points, 7 rebounds, 6 assists, 3 steals.
Reporters flooded him postgame.
"Was this personal?"
Michael didn't hesitate.
"I wasn't here last year. But I saw what Ridgeview did to these guys. So yeah—it felt personal."
[System Notification: Trait Boosted – Competitive Drive Tier II → Tier III][Progress: 23.44%]
He wasn't just building his resume anymore.
He was rewriting the legacy of every teammate who came before him.