One motion—hook shot.
Taiga landed, frozen.
His chest rose and fell like a piston.
Twice now he’d been made to look like a fool.
After that bucket, Yuto didn’t celebrate.
He walked calmly back on defense.
Straight toward Masaki.
Leaning in, he muttered beneath the roar of the crowd,
"We target their hustle first."
Masaki gave the faintest nod.
Because just like Horizon studied Toyonaka’s stonewall defense—
Toyonaka had studied Horizon too.
And one of Horizon’s keystones?
The man who’d throw himself across the floor to save a ball,
Block a shot from three meters behind,
But hustle has a flaw.
"So we shatter that first. We fake. We twist. We make him doubt."
Either Taiga would keep biting,
He’d start to hesitate.
And a hesitant defender...
The ball came back into play.
Kaito inbounded to Dirga.
As the pass landed, Kaito spoke low, almost like a warning:
"Yuto’s already in Motion."
Because if he and Kaito were the type of point guards who orchestrated offense—
Yuto was the one who conducted the defense.
The maestro of pressure.
The dictator of tempo.
A tactician disguised in a defender’s body.
Dirga brought the ball up the court, hands light but mind burning.
He glanced at the clock — 4:30 left in the first quarter.
Just a few more plays before Kaito gets subbed out.
His heart... it won’t last longer than this.
Yuto still stuck to him like glue—
No lean, no twitch, no wasted motion.
"What’s the key to elite defense?" Dirga asked himself.
Quick feet? Important.
If you reveal your hips—show the angle of your movement—
A real defender never lets his hips betray his intentions.
Still nothing to exploit.
Fine then... I’ll force your eyes off me.
He passed the ball to Kaito.
Off-ball movement began.
Dirga sprinted, looping around—
Calling for three screens—
The ball moved just as fast.
Aizawa to the corner—
Then a quick dish into the paint.
Toyonaka’s defense had to rotate.
Too many moving parts.
They had to make a decision.
But the ball had already gone inside.
Two titans under the rim.
Rikuya caught it with both hands,
Planted his left foot.
Then spun, shoulder-first into Haruto’s chest—
A collision like slabs of steel.
Haruto held ground, but Rikuya didn’t stop—
The crowd was still buzzing from Rikuya’s earth-shattering dunk.
A reminder: Horizon could hit back.
Dirga clenched his fist once, low and subtle.
That’s what team basketball looks like.
Movement. Timing. Precision.
But there was no time to bask.
Kaito stepped off the court, chest rising heavier than before—
His hand subtly brushed over his heart.
No words were needed.
Eyes sharp. Shoulders squared.
The tempo was about to shift.
Toyonaka inbounded the ball.
Yuto barely crossed half-court before launching the pass forward.
A bullet pass—fast and deliberate.
Masaki caught it on the wing, just inside the arc.
Gloved to his skin like he was born to guard him.
Masaki stared into Taiga’s eyes.
With quiet challenge.
"How far will you go, Taiga?"
Fast hands. Low bounce.
Masaki shifted gears again—
He was already past him.
Dirga rotated to help—
A stutter. A step-back that wasn’t.
Masaki was already slashing into the lane—
Rikuya followed—read the angle, took flight—
Switch hands in mid-air.
Masaki floated midair like time slowed down.
And from his left, a soft floater over Rikuya’s full contest.
And dropped clean through the net.
A silence spread for a moment, despite the crowd.
Masaki landed softly, gaze sharp as a dagger.
He turned to face Rikuya—calm, unblinking.
Then, without blinking, he shifted his eyes to Taiga.
Still breathing heavy. Still regaining his balance. Still chasing.
That wasn’t celebration.
But Rikuya didn’t bite.
He scooped the ball up without fanfare and passed it cleanly to Aizawa.
Aizawa burst forward.
A blur of silver and fire.
His first step split the court open, catching Toyonaka just a hair off-beat.
Aizawa drove hard, dragging defenders toward him.
And there it was again.
Already there. Already reading.
Shadowed so close, it felt like Dirga had a mirror stitched to his back.
Coming from behind. Fast. Silent.
Dirga felt the wind shift.
He didn’t look back. He didn’t need to.
Right behind his neck.
Dirga slowed just a tick, baiting the trap.
But in that split-second, Dirga twisted his body—
Behind the back. Blind. Clean.
Rei caught it in rhythm.
The crowd held their breath—
Haruto leapt up, hands wide—!
A shadow surged behind Haruto—
Rikuya exploded from the weak side, shoulder crashing through the lane like a wrecking ball.
He snatched the rebound out of Haruto’s hands, his buzzcut head a blur in motion.
Haruto was thrown off mid-air, crashing down like he’d taken a hit from a freight train.
The crowd was on their feet, yelling, gasping, stunned.
Dirga raised a fist. Rei lowered his head in frustration, but Rikuya—he didn’t celebrate.
Masaki walked a step forward. Just a step.
"Nice. I’ll destroy you."