Masaki, used to rhythm and momentum, was left stranded. The flow broke. The energy fractured. Their scoring stalled—and Heian Gakuen seized the moment like a pack of wolves sensing blood.
Fast breaks. Backdoor cuts. Three after three.
Dirga’s eyes narrowed from the stands.
Halftime score: Heian Gakuen 48 – Toyonaka 34.
The damage had been done.
As both teams retreated to their locker rooms, the tension was thick.
Heian Gakuen walked with calm confidence. Efficient. Focused. Silent, but deadly.
Toyonaka, on the other hand...
Masaki stormed ahead alone. Yuto trailed behind, not even glancing in his direction. The rest of the team followed awkwardly, silent, heads down. No words. No energy. Just the heavy weight of something broken.
Dirga remained seated, eyes following them until they disappeared down the tunnel.
He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
"So it’s not just about talent," he thought. "It’s about trust. And right now, they don’t have it."
His hands clenched slightly on his knees.
He knew Toyonaka had the pieces. The firepower. The athleticism.
Even kings could fall.
He looked down at the court, now empty but still echoing with the intensity of the half.
"If they don’t fix this by the third quarter... it’s over."
Inside Toyonaka’s Locker Room
The atmosphere was suffocating.
Everyone sat in silence, drenched in sweat—not from the game, but from the pressure crackling like static in the air.
A towel slammed against the wall.
Yuto stood, fists clenched, face flushed with anger.
"You need to play with us!" he shouted, voice echoing off the cold walls. "This is a team, damn it!"
Masaki didn’t flinch.
He stayed seated, his eyes cool and unreadable, breathing steady despite the heat of the moment.
"What you need to do," Masaki said, his voice low, almost too calm, "is believe in me. I can win the game. You can’t."
The room went dead silent.
The insult wasn’t just in the words—it was in how casually Masaki said it, like he wasn’t even trying to provoke Yuto. Like he believed it with every fiber of his being.
Yuto’s chair screeched as he stood up, fury burning in his eyes. He took a step toward Masaki, fists tight.
But before it could erupt, Haruto Senda stepped between them.
"Stop it, Yuto," Haruto said firmly. "Masaki’s right."
Yuto’s eyes widened in disbelief. "What? You’re siding with him?"
Haruto didn’t budge. "We need to play from him. You saw what he did in the first half. Without him, we’re not even in the game."
Yuto looked around the room—searching for someone to back him.
But he saw it in their faces.
Doubt. Frustration. Even Aoi, usually quiet, had her gaze lowered, saying nothing in his defense.
Coach Reina finally spoke.
She walked into the middle of the room, voice calm but commanding.
"Yuto," she said, looking directly at him, "you’ll start the third quarter on the bench."
Yuto’s mouth parted slightly, like he wanted to protest—but he said nothing. The weight of Reina’s words silenced him more effectively than any argument.
"Maybe from there," Reina added, "you’ll understand what the team needs."
Yuto sat back down heavily, his chest still rising and falling fast—but his voice remained locked inside.
The buzzer for the third quarter echoed in the hall outside.
And Toyonaka rose as one—fractured, maybe... but still fighting.
Dirga leaned forward in his seat, his eyes sharp as a blade. This was no longer just a game—it was a test of growth, trust, and leadership.
Yuto remained on the bench. A second-string guard took his place, and for a moment, Toyonaka’s offense found new life.
Without hesitation, the ball flowed through Masaki. The rest of the team—Daichi, Haruto, even the backup guard—adjusted. They gave Masaki the spacing and trust he had long craved.
Masaki responded in kind.
Every possession, he danced. Three-pointers, pull-ups, slashes through the lane, double-clutch layups, alley-oops from Daichi—it was a clinic. He made it look effortless.
Dirga could see it, even from the stands.
The price of carrying a team alone was heavy.
Each explosive drive cost him more energy. Each defensive scramble—however short—chipped away at his stamina. And on the other side of the court...
Heian Gakuen didn’t panic.
They adjusted—methodically, patiently. Their triangle offense kept churning, breaking Toyonaka’s weakened defense down possession by possession. With Yuto, the heart of the perimeter defense, on the bench, Heian Gakuen found more lanes. More passing angles. More shots.
They weren’t in a rush.
They were letting Masaki burn himself out.
On the sideline, Coach Reina stood with arms crossed. Then, without looking at him, she spoke to Yuto.
"About Masaki," Reina continued, "he was a ball hoarder at first, yes. But look at him now. Look what happens when the team believes in him—when you believe in him."
"Forget your ego. Play for the jersey. Play for each other"
She placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"You’re the leader on that court, Yuto. That means you create space for others to grow. Masaki evolved. Now it’s your turn."
Yuto stayed quiet, eyes locked on Masaki as he forced another drive into the paint, absorbing a foul but barely making it back on defense.
The crowd roared—but Dirga didn’t cheer.
He knew this path wasn’t sustainable.
Even thunder has its limits.
Heian Gakuen 68 – Toyonaka 62.
The once-double-digit lead was trimmed, but Masaki was heaving as he walked to the bench, drenched in sweat, chest rising like waves in a storm.
Dirga sat back in his seat, arms crossed.
"They’re close. But this won’t last. Masaki’s running out of gas... they need Yuto."
Instead, he walked straight up to Yuto—legs shaky, but eyes burning.
The entire team fell silent as they watched.
Before Yuto could even open his mouth to apologize, Masaki spoke first.
His voice was hoarse, but the words were clear.
"We need you to win this game."
Even Coach Reina paused.
There was no pride in Masaki’s voice. No arrogance.
Only the quiet admission of a warrior reaching his limit.
And in that moment—something shifted between them.
Looked Masaki in the eye.
Yuto lowered his gaze, fists clenched. "I let my pride blind me," he muttered.
Yuto didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward.
"...Then let’s finish this. Together."