The clinic was quiet.
Dirga, Horizon’s ace, lay asleep on the examination bed. Still, unmoving—
As if all the fury and fire from the Toyonaka match had burned out of him completely.
Outside the room, Horizon’s players were spread across the clinic floor—
Exhausted, asleep in chairs, against walls, some even on the ground.
Their jerseys still half-drenched in sweat, shoes kicked off, breathing heavy.
In the corner sat Coach Tsugawa, Sayaka, Ayaka, and Takeshi-sensei, Dirga’s uncle.
Even Aoi, Toyonaka’s manager—and Dirga’s cousin—was there.
No rivalry now. Just family. Just people who cared.
Takeshi-sensei finally broke the silence.
"So... how is Dirga?"
The doctor looked up from the monitor, speaking low.
"Stable. But he needs rest. His muscle fibers are at critical fatigue, and his vitals show extreme physical stress. He pushed himself far beyond normal output."
"I see," Takeshi-sensei nodded. "Thank you, Doctor."
He turned to look at Dirga—his nephew.
And yet, in his stillness, he looked so much like his father—Takeshi’s brother.
The same fire. The same intensity when it came to something he loved.
He plays like there’s no tomorrow.
Because sometimes, in his heart—maybe he believes there isn’t.
Coach Tsugawa leaned back, eyes still on Dirga.
Takeshi-sensei smiled, tired and proud.
"Yeah... a tough one."
filled with worn-out players, quiet machines, and the hum of rest—
For the fire to wake again.
Meanwhile, at the arena...
The last match of the tournament played out like a royal parade.
Wakayama Seiryuu vs. Heian Gakuen.
And even though Heian’s core had taken damage through the tourney,
they showed why they were still standing among giants.
The Emperor’s Guard still had bite.
Hard-fought—but no overtime.
Heian Gakuen clinched it.
And with that, the results were set:
3rd Place – Heian Gakuen
The gym slowly emptied, the crowd began to drift, and the stage for the award ceremony started to take shape.
There was an hour to rest.
Back in the clinic...
Dirga opened his eyes slowly, the light stinging.
Then he blinked a few times and muttered:
"Mmm... that was a nice sleep."
His whole body throbbed like someone poured fire through his bloodstream.
"Ughh—what the hell..."
From beside him came a familiar voice—mocking, but warm.
"Wake wake?" Ayaka tilted her head, smug grin on her face.
"Yeah, but... I feel like I got run over," Dirga groaned. "Everything hurts."
Ayaka sat back and crossed her arms.
"Just rest. You’ve got an hour till the ceremony."
Dirga looked around, noticing how quiet the room was now.
"They were all waiting... but when you didn’t wake up, their stomachs won the war. Food patrol, all of them," Ayaka said, shrugging.
"Ugh, don’t say that—now I’m hungry too."
Right on cue, his stomach growled.
Ayaka stood, disappeared for a moment, and came back with a tray.
Nothing flashy—doctor-approved recovery food. Warm rice, chicken slices, miso soup. Plain, healthy, energy-packed.
"Not the most gourmet meal, but you’ll live."
"Yeah, maybe," Dirga muttered, reaching for the chopsticks—only to flinch.
Pain shot through his arm.
"Tch. Stop being stubborn," Ayaka said, lightly smacking his hand.
She took the chopsticks, picked up a bite of rice, and brought it to his lips.
Dirga blinked. A little red in the face.
"Is this... how it feels to win?"
He took the bite. Swallowed slowly. Warm. Simple. Safe.
"So... when’s our next date?" Ayaka grinned.
Dirga choked. Literally.
Ayaka handed him a cup, not even hiding her laughter.
"You promised," she said softly.
Dirga took a sip, still coughing a little.
He looked away, pretending to focus on the food.
Because he knew what came next.
But before that—exams.
If he didn’t pass, he wouldn’t play.
None of Horizon would.
It was school policy. And it meant everything was on the line, again.
But if they made it through...
Week 1 of Summer Break: Wild Card Tournament—teams from other regions fighting for the final seed.
Week 2: The real war begins.
The National Tournament.
Where legends were born.
Where dreams shattered or soared.
And Dirga—tired, sore, and barely able to lift a chopstick—smiled.
"Let’s pass this test...
...then we fight again."
Meanwhile — Toyonaka Locker Room
Shoes unlaced, jerseys half-off, towels over faces.
No one spoke. No one moved.
Aoi reentered, sliding the door shut behind her. She had just come back from the clinic.
Masaki looked up first, jaw tight.
Aoi folded her arms. Her voice was steady.
"He’s fine. Exhausted. Pushed too far. But still breathing."
Masaki didn’t reply at first. His fingers curled slightly.
He’d said it himself.
I’ll break my limits.
But what he saw in Dirga wasn’t just a broken limit.
It was someone who pushed until his body nearly snapped.
A wave of quiet spread over the room. Heavy. Gloomy.
The kind of silence that feels like the end.
But Aoi—Aoi hated this mood.
"This isn’t the end. Why are we acting like it is?"
Her voice cracked just enough to show how angry she was.
But at this defeated silence.
"We still have a chance. Wild Card. Nationals aren’t over."
Masaki looked at her. Yuto too. Even Haruto, silent as ever, glanced up.
"So what if we lost today?" she continued.
"Dirga lost to us before. Today he won. That’s how it goes. One day up, one day down. Are we so weak we can’t climb again?"
"You guys really gonna let Aoi be tougher than you?" Yuto smirked. "Seriously. We lost. So what?"
"We’ve beaten Horizon before. They beat us today. That’s how rivals are made."
He looked around the room, voice rising.
"The Wild Card is ours. We take that, we’re back in. We meet Horizon again. And next time..."
Yuto’s fists clenched.
"We don’t let it end ."
Shunpei stood next. Then Daichi. Then Haruto.
He slowly rose, still sore, but eyes clear.
"Yeah... We’re not done."
A new spark lit the air.
Toyonaka will be back.