Kaito sprinted down the court — open floor.
Everyone else was trailing behind.
The ball slammed into the backboard—
ricocheted back toward center court.
Everyone crashed the paint.
Rikuya and Haruto jumped together.
Their hands collided—struggling for control.
Rough. Violent. Desperate.
"Jump ball! The ref calls a tie!"
"This is insane! Bodies on the floor, blocks, deflections—this game is pure willpower now!"
"Another jump ball... and only 32 seconds left in the final!"
Rikuya, the Titan of Horizon.
Haruto, the Tower of Toyonaka.
The referee raised the ball.
Rikuya got there first—tipped it left.
The ball went loose—bodies everywhere—hands scrambling—
Yuto came up with it!
Dirga and Taiga closed in. Hard. Fast.
Yuto turned to pass—Dirga stole it.
Dirga raced toward the Toyonaka court.
Dirga broke his sprint—step-back dribble.
Masaki didn’t. He doubled with Yuto.
Tempo Sight – GodFrame Active
The court in slow motion.
Angles. Movement. Timing.
He saw Kaito—cutting in.
A soft, perfect pass—
Right into Kaito’s hands.
Even Kaito blinked in surprise.
Haruto leapt for the rebound—grabbed it.
Rikuya slapped it out!
His vision locked on Masaki.
Just like the prefecture final.
Everyone backed away.
Dirga dribbled. Left. Right.
Masaki mirrored him. Didn’t bite.
Masaki stayed with him.
Dirga absorbed the contact.
He was at the three-point line.
Dirga rose for the shot.
He fell. The court hit his back.
The ball rose into the air—
Slow. Perfect. Silent.
The gym held its breath.
The crowd—thousands strong—went still.
Not even a single shoe squeak.
Only the ball. Spinning. Hanging. Deciding.
"DIRGA!! DIRGA!! DIRGANTARA RENJI JUST WON IT!!"
But even that was drowned out.
At first it was a rush of footsteps.
The sound of shoes slamming hardwood.
Then a scream—Ayaka’s voice breaking through first:
Then a wall of sound behind it—
A tidal wave of roars, chants, cries, and laughter.
Everything moved in slow motion.
Kaito ran toward him first, yelling his name—
His arms wide, pulling him into a hug.
Rikuya followed. Then Taiga. Then Aizawa.
One by one, the team fell on him—
A pile of exhaustion and joy.
Ayaka sprinted to the edge of the court, tears on her cheeks, still screaming.
Coach Tsugawa’s arms raised, fists clenched, head lowered—whispering something only he heard.
Takeshi-sensei. Sayaka. The managers. The crowd.
All pouring out their voice.
All pouring it toward one name.
Above the chaos—confetti machines fired from the rafters.
Tiny bits of silver and gold rained down.
The air shimmered like starlight.
Dirga sat on the floor still, chest heaving.
Because in that moment, the court belonged to him.
Dirga looked up at the scoreboard.
Just... a quiet smile.
The kind that means: it’s over. We did it.
He let himself fall back.
"And just like that... this game ends."
"We thought—honestly—we might be heading for a second overtime. Just like Toyonaka’s match against Heian Gakuen. But no. It ends here. In one."
"And what an ending it was. From the very first quarter, the intensity never dropped. Both of these teams brought everything."
"Two rising powers out of Osaka. Horizon and Toyonaka met in the prefecture finals... and now again in the regional final. And guess what? It could happen again."
"Exactly. Horizon moves on to the nationals, three weeks from now. But Toyonaka’s journey might not be over. They still have a shot at the wild card berth. And if they qualify—"
"Then we’ll get a round three. And I think everyone—everyone—wants to see that."
"No doubt. The scouts are already taking notes. There’s enough tape from this game to study for weeks."
"And don’t forget, we’ve still got the 3rd-place match coming up—Wakayama Seiryuu vs. Heian Gakuen. Then, the closing ceremony."
Dirga’s hands were trembling.
He gripped at his jersey, then his side.
His chest rose, then stopped.
Then again—short, sharp breaths.
He was smiling, but he wasn’t steady.
The Horizon bench stood.
The medical team ran.
"Hold on—what’s happening?"
"There’s movement on the court. Medics entering—fast."
"They’re headed to center court—Dirga’s down. He’s... he’s not getting up on his own."
"Did something happen during the shot? Or is this... is it fatigue?"
"This kid—he’s been running on empty for two quarters."
"That kind of intensity comes with a cost..."
The medical team crouched beside him.
Kaito moved aside. So did Rikuya.
Taiga looked shaken for the first time all game.
They gently checked Dirga’s breathing, his pulse, his responses.
Like a candle burned to the base, but still glowing.
The crowd stilled again.
That reverent hush returned.
You could hear the zip of a medic’s bag opening.
The soft static of a walkie-talkie.
The click of an ice pack.
A whistle dropping to the hardwood.
A cheerleader crying quietly into her sleeve.
They helped Dirga to his feet.
He didn’t walk alone.
One medic Keep reading on NovelHub - where stories come alive!
Another steadied his shoulder.
He just nodded once to the crowd.
And as he limped off the court—
"Let’s hope it’s nothing serious."
"He gave everything. That was more than basketball. That was heart."
"That was one of the greatest finishes... I’ve ever witnessed."