Toyonaka’s transition game now unstoppable.
He was a demon unleashed.
A mid-air adjustment.
Coach Tsugawa stood—his voice cutting through the chaos.
With three minutes left in the second quarter.
The gym was buzzing, but to Horizon’s bench, it felt muted.
Dull. Like the hum of defeat trying to sink its teeth in.
Dirga walked off the court slowly, towel draped over his shoulders, sweat dripping down his jaw like the remnants of a storm that had failed to bring the rain.
His vision was sharp.
His mind, even sharper.
But his grip on the game?
Toyonaka was adapting.
Masaki—was tearing them apart.
And it wasn’t just him.
Rikuya sat with his head lowered, towel over his face. Taiga leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, knuckles white. Their bodies were fine.
Fraying at the edges.
Masaki was scoring like defense didn’t exist—
Blowing past doubles.
Sinking threes like practice drills.
Moving like a man possessed.
The conductor was losing the rhythm.
"GO GO HORIZON! GO HORIZON!!"
Ayaka’s voice sliced through the gloom like lightning.
Again and again, louder than any horn or drum.
The cheer squad followed her lead, stomping, clapping, chanting.
And for a brief second—
Ayaka was at the front of the squad, fist in the air, her voice raw from shouting, face flushed from the effort.
She’s still fighting.
So we don’t fight alone.
And in that moment, Dirga clenched his fists.
Coach Tsugawa snapped.
"We’re changing the formation," he barked, no hesitation in his voice. "Toyonaka’s choking Dirga too tightly. They’ve prepped for him. We take that away."
"Kaito at PG. Dirga slides to SG. Aizawa at SF. Taiga, Rikuya—you hold the frontcourt."
The players blinked. This wasn’t the usual look.
Not since Dirga learned to control the tempo had they run this setup.
Coach Tsugawa’s eyes locked on Dirga.
"This time, you don’t conduct. You detonate. Kaito will carry the rhythm—you bring the chaos. Unleash it, Dirga."
"Yes, coach," Dirga said, voice low—but his heartbeat roaring.
Inside, something pulsed.
[ Flow State: Activated ]
[ 200% Attribute Boost – Time Remaining: 2:30 Minutes ]
[ Stamina Booster Engaged – Reserves Stabilized ]
A soft echo only Dirga could hear.
But it wasn’t a whisper.
The moment he stepped back on the court, it was like the world narrowed.
The lines of the court sharpened into trails, like veins under glass.
He rolled his shoulders once.
And as the inbound passed from Kaito’s hands to his—
And the storm followed.
Kaito brought the ball up.
It had been a long time.
But now—the General was back.
Across from him, Shunpei tightened his stance, eyes locked in.
And Yuto? Still glued to Dirga like a shadow.
Kaito glanced at Dirga.
The same one from their match against Seiryuu.
The kind of fire that demanded respect... and attention.
But Kaito wasn’t here to admire it. He was here to use it.
With a sharp flick of his hand, Kaito called for a screen.
Dirga stepped in—shoulders squared, feet planted.
But the moment contact hit, he didn’t hold.
He rejected the screen—darting toward the basket in a sharp cut.
Shunpei bit the bait.
Both defenders collapsed toward the moving flame—Dirga.
And in that instant, they left the General alone.
Kaito paused. One heartbeat.
Then rose from behind the arc.
He didn’t raise a fist.
He simply turned back, eyes already scanning the next play.
Dirga might be on fire.
He was just another piece on the board.
Every move. Every cut.
Every possession Kaito orchestrated—
was designed with one simple goal:
But the problem wasn’t in the offense.
It was in the cracks beneath the basket.
Because no matter what Horizon did on the other end...
Masaki was a damn scalpel.
Yuto walked the ball up, chest rising with calm rhythm.
No words, no signals—
Slashed through Horizon’s defense like a hot knife through butter.
He broke through Taiga.
It wasn’t that Horizon’s defense was bad.
It was just that Masaki...
He didn’t scream for attention.
He just scored—like gravity itself answered to him.
The ball was back in Kaito’s hands.
Dirga jogged into position, locking eyes with him.
"Use me," his gaze screamed.
His fingers twitched, ready.
But Kaito didn’t pass.
Toyonaka’s defense was tight—walls closing in.
Kaito was the locksmith.
Change of pace—slowed just enough to bait.
He cut past Shunpei like a shadow.
Aizawa darted in from the wing, sharp like a knife.
Dirga slid to the elbow—primed. Loaded.
Toyonaka’s defense began to crumble.
Two defenders overcommitted.
Everyone thought Kaito would shoot.
Instead, a no-look dish.
Behind. Under. Into Rikuya’s hands.
All alone in the paint.
Dirga exhaled through his nose.
He saw the whole play unfold.
Every thread. Every layer.
He still hadn’t touched the ball.
His fists clenched slightly.
His breath burned in his throat.
But as they jogged back—
And then he was gone.
What is dirga need to realize