Aizawa’s face was burning.
Anger. Shame. Determination.
Everything flaring all at once.
He brought it up to the three-point line and called for a screen.
Standard pick-and-roll.
Passed back to Aizawa, who caught it in stride and attacked the lane.
Aizawa didn’t slow down.
He powered in—body tense—eyes blazing.
Minato met him in the air.
Ripped the ball mid-flight.
The Wolves were already running again.
Gaito didn’t rush it this time.
He slowed at half-court, shepherding his team.
The Wolves flowed into position.
Set screens. Curved their cuts. Distracted, dragged, disrupted.
Minato moved off-ball.
Every step a feint. Every curl disguised as a drift.
It was chaos—orchestrated chaos.
And when Minato slipped free?
Gaito’s pass came in an instant.
Threaded through three defenders.
Floater. Soft. Arcing.
Rikuya reached—too slow.
The ball dropped in clean.
North Wolves had taken the lead.
The players trudged toward the bench, breath heavy, sweat dripping, frustration thick in the air. Aizawa sat down hard, jaw clenched. Dirga leaned forward, elbows on knees, thinking fast but saying nothing.
Coach Tsugawa stood in front of them, calm—but firm.
"We’re getting baited into their rhythm," he said. "We keep pushing, but they’re dictating the tempo now."
He pointed toward Dirga and Kaito.
"They’re locking Dirga down and collapsing the lanes. So Dirga—give it up early. Let Kaito take the first touch. You’ll be the second wave."
Dirga nodded. "Copy."
"Taiga, help crash the boards. Aizawa... keep moving. Don’t force it yet."
Aizawa didn’t respond. Just gave a slow nod.
"Alright," Tsugawa said. "Let’s turn it around."
"YES, COACH!" they shouted in unison.
Substitutions complete.
Dirga – Point GuardKaito – Shooting GuardAizawa – Small ForwardTaiga – Power ForwardRikuya – Center
From the Wolves, the starting five stayed intact.
The howl hadn’t stopped.
The pack was still hunting.
And the Shepherd was still leading.
Dirga brought the ball up the court.
Low dribble. Controlled breathing.
But inside, his thoughts raced like wildfire.
His fingers clenched his wristband.
Ayaka’s charm pressed against his skin—
A thread of calm in chaos.
[Echo Skill Activated – Tempo Sight: GODFRAME – 45 seconds]
Movement lines burned into his sight.
Defensive patterns glowed with algorithmic precision.
It was an out-of-body surge—
The court no longer just hardwood, but a living diagram of war.
Teammates in radiant blue.
Opponents outlined in blood-red pulses.
Passing lanes shimmered like veins.
Every option. Every trap.
Like chess—played at the speed of instinct.
Taiga set a high screen.
Gaito didn’t hedge—he didn’t need to.
Tomoya rotated early. Help defense. Synchronized. Calculated.
Dirga rejected the screen—crossover left.
Exploded toward the elbow.
The angle flashed open—Dirga zipped a pass to Aizawa slicing in—
Minato was already there.
Because the Wolves were never guessing.
After all, they had Gaito—the best passer in the league.
And if anyone could see a pass before it happened...
Minato leapt—tipped the pass in mid-air.
Rikuya hit the floor—dived—snatched it back to Dirga.
Dirga paused. GODFRAME still active. But...
Every opening—a trap.
Every play he imagined—they were already in motion. Already waiting.
He swung the ball to Kaito.
Kaito tossed it into Aizawa on the wing.
The fourth this quarter.
Aizawa didn’t hesitate.
Jab. Cross. Step-through.
But Minato didn’t flinch.
He mirrored Aizawa—like a perfect reflection.
Aizawa dropped his shoulder, forced contact—
Minato stayed glued, slid like he was made of smoke.
Aizawa spun—rose—released the floater—
Minato’s hand snatched it clean from the air.
The Wolves’ bench erupted.
That was block number five.
Minato stood tall. Silent.
Looking down at Aizawa like stone.
His eyes weren’t cold.
"Trying too hard, little bro," he said, voice low. "You’re the only one rushing."
Aizawa bit his lip hard.
Rage behind his eyes.
To tear off the court.
Gaito at the helm again.
The Wolves began to rotate.
Curled around a double screen from Haru and Riku.
"Watch the curl!" Dirga shouted.
Gaito’s pass didn’t go to where Minato was.
It went to where Minato would be.
A diagonal bounce pass—threaded through a collapsing defense.
Minato caught it mid-motion.
Took a single step—elevated.
Rikuya leapt to contest.
Minato twisted—mid-air—
Spun around him like wind slipping past a tree.
Reverse layup. Off glass.
Dirga’s heart pounded.
He thought he understood them.
He thought they were just wolves.
They weren’t a team anymore.
And the shepherd had joined the hunt.
Dirga fought to keep breathing, keep moving.
Every time he passed one defender—
Like the forest closing in.
No margin for missteps.
So he made Kaito the anchor.
They did the same to Kaito.
Mirrored his adjustment.
He tried a double play.
Their timing wasn’t human.
It was like... they shared a breath.
The Shepherd’s rhythm.
The score started to unravel.
Fatigue in his limbs.
The Shepherd’s control—slipping.
The Wolves lost their unity.
Bit by bit—they fought their way back.
Toyonaka Horizon High 41 - Sapporo North Wolves 49
And still, above it all—
The echo of the hunt remained.
But it was the Shepherd who gave them direction.
And the hunt was far from over.