The Trail of the Warrior (The Super Hoopers 4)

To all those who read me, come to see me,
and ask me for dedications.
To those who want more. Thank you!
A. C.
THE SUPER HOOPERS VOL. 4
The Trail of the Warrior
First edition: October 2025
© Text: Alberto Casamayor Otero, 2025
© Illustrations: Palma&Kako, 2025
Translation from Spanish: Carolyn Louise Black, 2025
© Editorial el Pirata, 2025
C. Ripollès, 4 Sabadell (Barcelona)
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All rights reserved
ISBN: 978-84-19898-91-3
PO: 9788419898913-1
Legal deposit: B 15825-2025
Printed in Barcelona (Spain)
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4
THE TRAIL OF THE WARRIOR
Written by
Alberto Casamayor
Illustrated by
Palma&Kako

I'M JOEL,
AND I'M NINE.

Oh boy, oh boy…oh boooy!
Those of you who’ve read any of the Super Hooper
adventures already know who I am. And to those
who’ve just arrived…now’s a really bad time.
Why am I so stressed out? Well, because Nick
—who’s our cockiest player—has just passed me
the ball, and the players in the other team (all of
them!) have surrounded me, looking like they want
to take it from me even if it’s over my dead body.
I bounce the ball and search for a gap to slip
through, but the Hurricanes (that’s our opponents’
name) are closing in on me, looking threatening.
Perhaps you, sitting in your armchair at home, or
the in comfy chair in your room, or even on the john
while you’re…doing that… Perhaps you think I’m
exaggerating.
1

If you look closely, you’ll see that the Super Hoopers
are wearing our gear over the top of thermals.
Laura’s even put on a scarf, and Sam’s wearing
mittens! Meanwhile, the Hurricanes are dressed
in tank tops and shorts, like it’s no big deal…even
though it’s, like, 50 degrees out!
I’d rather you
didn’t pass to ME.
These Hurricanes
look real DEADLY.
Over here,
over here!

But I can’t pass to Patrick because a monkey stole
his glasses, and he’s as blind as a bat without them.
I dodge a hand that, instead of trying to get the
ball, seems to want to rip off my head.
“Ref!” bawls Coach Evans, all muscles and nerves
on the bench, drinking coffee from his ten-pint flask.
“That’s an unsportsmanlike foul!”
The way the game’s been going, we know he’s
not going to blow a foul. On this open-air court,
in the middle of the mountains on the other side
of the Andes, the rules are different. To play kids’
basketball, you just have to be under ten years old.
The problem is that a lot of people around here
don’t have a clue what year they were born in, so
the only real requirement is…to have arms and legs!
My eyes search for Laura, our nicest, most
empathetic player. She always gets away from her
marker so I can pass to her, and… Seriously? Is she
signing autographs for a bunch of kids? Now?
7

“Don’t lose it!” warns Hiroko, our latest signing,
who’s had to sit on the bench because of a sprain.
I shouldn’t lose it?! The shortest girl in the
Hurricanes, who’s a couple of inches taller than me,
has me trapped on the baseline.
“Help!” I yell, about to fall outside the court.
To throw off the Hurricanes’ player, Sam—who’s
our third base and has been disqualified for
cheating—restless as a caged rat, starts turning
somersaults through Bermúdez’s sister’s feet. She’s
Coach Evans’ assistant.
Total disaster! He trips her up, and she crashes
into the coach, spilling coffee all over him.
At his side, Mallory, who’s prone to seeing the
future, can’t take her eyes off the mountain behind
us. Ever since we arrived in the village, she’s been
saying we’re in a mystical place and has been
completely distracted.
Sam’s distraction ruse didn’t work. Their center—a
kid who, for a nine-year-old, has more hair on his
legs than a hairdresser’s floor—grabs the ball from
my hands. Like a bolting horse, he runs toward the
basket and…smashes it with an awesome dunk!
8

The scoreboard, which is made of strips of wood,
shows the Hurricanes are winning 50 to 42. In the
hourglass keeping time for the last quarter, there’s
hardly any sand left to fall.
9

“Love-hearts!” yells a familiar voice.
Sandy has just arrived. We stand there with our
mouths open, because she’s riding on a…
Hold on, hold on! I guess you must be wondering
about a whole bunch of things. What are the Super
Hoopers doing so far away? Why are we playing
against such a violent team? And who is Sandy’s
incredible companion?
So, let’s go back a few days. Come on, come on,
because you’re not going to believe what happened
to us!
BOING!

It all kicked off days after we beat the Bronze
Samurais (against all odds), when Coach Evans
called a team meeting in his living room at home,
which is where we prepare our games.
The fish that swims in the huge fish tank looks at
Sam’s flaming red hair with one eye and watches
the bananas that Bermúdez is juggling with the
other.
“Bananas are healthy and give lots of ENERGY;
eating them guarantees you will live MERRILY.”
“Sit, y’all!” grunts Coach Evans.
And right away, we all sit down wherever we can,
the fish included. The coach takes a gulp from his
flask of coffee and wipes his ears with a cotton bud
before speaking again.
“An old acquaintance of my wife’s, Grandmaster
Konpe Siko-La, has a legendary karate school in a
faraway village. Sandy was a pupil, and as she was
an orphan, she lived there too…until we adopted
her, of course.”
Konpe Siko-La…does the name ring a bell? He’s
the martial arts sensei who very occasionally
2
11

chooses a special pupil to whom he will teach his
most precious secrets. For a long time, Sandy had
been preparing to be chosen.
“So it’s true…” Patrick’s eyes widen behind his
fantastic sports glasses for the near-sighted.
“Sandy, you were raised among monks who hunted
with their hands!”
“And even with their FEET—that sure would be
NEAT,” marvels Bermúdez, who’s spinning a banana
on his finger like a propeller.
“I hunt, too…” Sam takes a tubby, slime-covered
slug out of his pocket.
“Oh, please! Where did you get that?” Laura sounds
vexed.
“It was in danger,” Sam shrugs and puts the slug
away in his pocket. “And when there’s a little fella
in danger, I don’t think twice!”
“Enough!” yells the coach, and we all stand
ramrod straight. “The fact is that he’s built a
basketball court so the kids at his school can play.”
“Oh, what a great guy this Mister Grandmaster
Kon…Sinpe-Luca has to be!” says Laura, clapping.
12

“The problem is that his brother, Masfan Tali-Mon,
has been harboring resentment against him for
years. He used to be a good man, but they fought,
and he left the school they ran together. Masfan
Tali-Mon took the money they had put by and
opened his own karate school. Whenever he has the
chance to bother Konpe Siko-La, he does, and now
he’s ordered his pupils not to let anyone who isn’t
from his school play on the court.”
“What an ogre!” Laura is outraged. “And why did
they fight?”
The coach frowns and takes a sip of coffee.
“Because of a legend.”
“Wow, they sure do take these legends seriously,”
muses Sam, rummaging around in his nose.
“They do,” agrees the coach. “But a few days ago,
Konpe Siko-La told me his brother made him a
promise. He’ll share the basketball court and stop
bothering his pupils on one condition: that the
Super Hoopers beat the Hurricanes, his team, in a
basketball match.”
“Why does it have to be our TEAM? There are plenty
of others that play like a DREAM,” asks Bermúdez.
13

“Cause we’re simply the best,” breaks in Nick,
smoothing down his bangs. “Hey, Mr. Evans, what TV
networks are broadcasting the game?”
“There will be no TV,” replies the coach. “The village
is on the other side of the world. That’s why, next
week, when school’s out…”
We’re
flying off to
the jungle!

The Super Hoopers keep quiet.
Did he say the jungle?
But he doesn’t mean the jungle where there are
pumas, bears, and other wild animals that can
gobble you up in one bite, right?