Date: June 2–6, 2021

Location: Boston, MA & Milwaukee, WI

June 2 – Late Night, TD Garden TunnelThe lights were long gone, but Kyle hadn't moved from his spot at center court. A single security guard passed by and nodded—he'd gotten used to the rookie's midnight visits. Kyle didn't acknowledge him. Didn't need to.

He was somewhere else.

In his head, Game 1 played again. Giannis turning the paint into a warzone. Holiday blowing up every pick-and-roll. Middleton calmly sinking daggers from the corner like he had all the time in the world.

Kyle knew what it looked like. What it felt like.

He could see the holes.

Could feel how they were supposed to be filled.

But he couldn't fill them—not with his body wrapped in doubt and his leg wrapped in ice.

He limped to the scorer's table and sat down slowly, pulling his phone from his hoodie.

No texts from Ari.

He scrolled up to that letter. The one from Montego Bay. The one that said his father wasn't just a myth—but a code waiting to be broken.

He opened his notes app. Titled a new file:

"The Mirage Blueprint"

He started typing, one line at a time.

Observe everything. Speak little.

Basketball is movement. But fate is position.

There's a difference between being a star and being gravity.

My father knew something. I will too.

June 3 – Celtics Film Room, MorningKyle sat in the back again, hoodie up, crutches leaning beside him. Udoka paced the front of the room, breaking down Game 1 footage like a surgeon dissecting a body.

"Too slow on help. Too soft on the doubles. Jrue's picking us apart early."

Jaylen nodded. "We can switch more up top. Sag off Lopez, collapse on the roll."

Kyle raised his hand from the shadows. "Play the 3:42 mark in the third again."

Udoka squinted at him but complied. The tape rolled.

"Right there," Kyle said. "Pause."

The screen froze as Tatum got caught in a screen, giving Holiday an open lane to drive.

"We're fighting under on a high screen, with Lopez popping—except Giannis is ghosting behind. That's not a simple drive. It's a timing trap."

He stood slowly. The whole room was watching.

"Next time, you ICE that action. Push Jrue baseline. Make Lopez the playmaker. He doesn't want it."

There was silence for a second.

Then Smart grinned. "You coaching now, Rookie?"

Kyle shrugged. "Someone's gotta think while y'all bleed."

Udoka didn't smile, but he nodded.

June 4 – Game 2 Pregame: TD Garden TunnelKyle lingered by the locker room door as the team gathered to take the floor. No uniform. Just team gear and a Kyonic windbreaker. His brace was hidden underneath black pants. He carried a clipboard now—one of the assistant coaches handed it to him pregame. Half a joke. Half respect.

Tatum dapped him up. "Don't forget who you were before this."

Jaylen leaned close. "And don't forget who you still are."

As they ran out, the tunnel roared.

Kyle stayed in the shadows.

Game 2 – First Half: FightbackThe Celtics came out like wolves.

Tatum had fire in his eyes. A crossover into a pull-up over Middleton on the very first possession. Then a spin layup. Then a catch-and-shoot three.

Jaylen was attacking again—slashing, finishing through contact. Marcus Smart picked up Holiday full-court, barking like a street pit.

Kyle stood with the assistants now. Watching.

He couldn't stop his foot from tapping. Couldn't stop his hand from scribbling down schemes.

When the Bucks hit a 9-0 run in the second, Udoka glanced back at him.

Kyle held up two fingers, pointed to the corner, then gestured down.

Translation: zone it. Match Giannis with a box baseline trap and force the rotation up top.

Udoka gave the nod.

Next play: a forced turnover. Tatum dunked it in transition.

The bench exploded.

Kyle stayed calm. Eyes sharp.

Score at the half: Boston 53 – Milwaukee 50

Halftime – Locker RoomNo one was panicking. But no one was smiling either.

Jaylen sat with ice on both knees. Tatum reviewed iPad footage with one of the assistants.

Kyle sat near the showers, alone, staring at the floor.

Ari texted him.

"Call me later. Got news. Not basketball. It's about your dad."

He blinked.

Re-read it.

And his heart began to race.

Second Half – One-Man StormGiannis turned into a monster.

Spin. Slam. Euro-step. One-man fast break. Elbow fadeaways like it was 2011 Dirk.

But Boston didn't fold.

Smart drilled a three in Holiday's face. Rob Williams caught a lob. Jaylen grabbed a steal and finished with a thunderous reverse.

With two minutes left, Boston was up 101–98.

Then Giannis bulldozed through three defenders for an and-one.

Tie game.

Kyle stood up instinctively, clipboard in hand.

"Mirror screen left," he muttered to no one. "Bucks will blitz the strong side. Slingshot to the opposite wing."

Tatum hit the exact pass—over Middleton's shoulder. Corner three. Derrick White. Bang.

Final seconds. Milwaukee down three. Giannis tried a pull-up from the top.

Off.

Boston 105 – Milwaukee 102.

Series tied 1–1.

June 5 – Ari's ApartmentThe room was quiet except for the faint sound of news on the TV.

Kyle sat at the edge of the couch.

Ari slid a manila folder across the coffee table.

"What's this?"

She folded her arms. "Records. From Jamaica. I asked a friend who works in the archives. Not everything's digital there yet. But this…" She hesitated. "It's your father's final known address. Same neighborhood as your mom."

Kyle picked up the file.

Photos.

A police report.

A flyer: MISSING – DERRICK WILSON. Last seen March 2003.

Then a hand-written note, torn on the edge. Scribbled with almost manic energy.

"The court is a mirror. Fate has rules. But the mirror lies. Don't follow me, son. Or you'll lose yourself too."

Kyle stared at the handwriting.

He didn't recognize it.

But somehow, it felt familiar.

"Why didn't my mom ever show me this?" he asked quietly.

Ari didn't answer.

Just watched him wrestle with ghosts.

June 6 – Team Flight to MilwaukeeThe Celtics boarded their flight for Game 3. Kyle sat near the back with the assistant coaches now. Crutches beside him. But his presence? It had shifted.

He wasn't just the rookie anymore.

He was a mind. A weight. A presence.

Before the plane took off, Jaylen leaned back to his row.

"You coming to coach or coming to haunt?"

Kyle smirked. "Little bit of both."

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