CHAPTER 48: MOUNTAIN TRIAL : NO MORE GREY FOOD

Another day, another battlefield.

Dirga and the Horizon team gathered at the mountain lodge, their footsteps heavy, but their eyes—burning. Behind them, Toyonaka arrived, faces grim and quiet. And finally, like a breeze brushing through fire, the Kurama team followed—fresh, clean, annoyingly relaxed.

Toyonaka looked fired up.

But Horizon?

Horizon was a burning star.

You could feel the heat coming off them like a forge. Two straight nights of that cursed gray nutritional paste had ignited something primal.

They weren’t here to play basketball.

They were here to make damn sure they never had to taste that sludge again.

Even Kaito looked like he was one comment away from homicide.

Like clockwork, Coach Tsugawa blew his whistle.

"Alright! You know the drill. Morning run. First to the court gets the exemption!"

This time, Horizon didn’t just run.

They exploded.

Rei and Hiroki were out like rockets.

"I didn’t even know Hiroki could run that fast!" Taiga shouted behind them, gasping.

"He’s transcending!!" Aizawa wheezed, already a step behind.

Dirga didn’t have any stamina boosters left, so he ran smart. He kept pace, let the others blaze ahead. Kaito ran beside him, pushing through every painful breath like the food demons were chasing him.

The wind bit their skin. The trail twisted like a serpent through the trees. Every step pounded like a war drum.

When they reached the court, Hiroki was already there—arms raised, sweat pouring, eyes wild with victory.

He looked like a man who’d just defeated death itself.

Rei stumbled in next, hands on his knees, laughing like he’d lost his mind.

Meanwhile, Taiga and Aizawa were curled in the corner of the court like kids who’d seen a ghost.

Dirga limped over, panting. "So... Hiroki?"

Hiroki didn’t respond with words.

Just a proud, deranged smile.

Training began shortly after.

Brutal. Unforgiving. Vintage Coach Tsugawa.

But this time, something was different.

Their bodies—were adapting.

The drills still hurt. The reps still burned. But now, there was power behind every movement. They were faster. More explosive. Even their recovery was quicker.

Dirga activated another Training Booster.

[Training Booster activated. Boosting all gains for the day.]

I’m going to walk out of this mountain a monster.

...

Two hours of pain later, Coach Tsugawa gathered everyone midcourt.

"Flip time!" he shouted.

He tossed the coin into the air.

"Horizon vs. Toyonaka!"

No cheering. No celebration.

Just a deadly silence.

Everyone’s eyes said the same thing:

We are not eating that food again.

...

Game 1

Horizon vs. Toyonaka

Dirga glanced at Kaito. "We go all out."

Kaito cracked his knuckles. "Don’t need to tell me."

The game tipped off.

These two teams knew each other inside out.

They’d fought in practice matches. In the Spring Tournament. In this very training camp.

But this time—it was about how much they’d grown.

Dirga took the lead, but something was different.

He wasn’t pure chaos anymore.

He wasn’t all instinct and heat.

Now, he was controlled chaos—a wildfire moving with intention.

Dirga began switching between styles—sometimes composed, sometimes unpredictable. That unpredictability threw Toyonaka off.

Even with Kaito resting, Horizon played with a system. A rhythm.

And it worked.

Toyonaka 0 – Horizon 1

...

Game 2

Dirga continued leading.

This match was his test. His evolution.

Could he truly balance the chaos within?

He slowed the tempo at times, baiting defenders. He sprinted with bursts. He read and reacted like a conductor.

Toyonaka, to their credit, adapted quickly.

Yuto shadowed Dirga like glue, anticipating every feint. Masaki upped the pressure, scoring from every angle.

But just when Toyonaka started closing the gap—

Kaito subbed in.

The floor shifted.

Order returned to the storm. Chaos became precision. Horizon surged ahead, every player falling into perfect sync.

Dirga and Kaito—the unpredictable spark and the calculated general—dismantled Toyonaka’s rhythm.

Toyonaka 0 – Horizon 2

...

Game 3

By now, everyone could feel it.

This wasn’t just training camp anymore.

This was war.

Masaki started roaring after every bucket. Yuto dived for loose balls. Haruto slammed the boards like a machine.

But Horizon?

They were burning.

Rei hit threes like sniper shots. Rikuya began bodying Toyonaka’s post defenders. Even Hiroki pulled off a behind-the-back fake and floater that left the crowd gasping.

Dirga called no plays. He let instinct take over. His chaos had direction now.

And chaos was uncontainable.

Toyonaka 0 – Horizon 3

The gray food?

A distant memory.

The real food?

So close they could taste it.

...

Game 4

But Toyonaka wasn’t going down without a fight.

This time, Yuto led the charge.

He changed Toyonaka’s structure—pushing the tempo faster, dragging Horizon into a high-speed game.

Masaki flowed with him. Shunpei started cutting off Horizon’s passing lanes. Even the bench players came in and gave everything.

Kaito sat this one out, trusting Dirga to run the floor.

But it wasn’t enough.

Toyonaka struck back.

Toyonaka 1 – Horizon 3

Dirga clenched his fists as he walked to the bench.

They’d played well. But Toyonaka was hungry, too.

Their pride was on the line.

...

Game 5

Kaito was back.

The duo reunited. And this time, they weren’t playing safe.

They attacked from the first second—pick and rolls, slip screens, backdoor cuts. Dirga read Yuto like an open book. Kaito baited Masaki into overcommitting, then punished him with pinpoint passing.

Toyonaka fought back—but it wasn’t enough.

Toyonaka 1 – Horizon 4

They had done it.

Victory.

Real food.

Freedom.

Horizon wins.

At least one step to the Food

The team erupted into cheers.

Taiga dropped to his knees, hands up. "NO. MORE. GRAY. FOOD."

Rei just laid flat on the floor like a dead fish. "Praise the sun..."

Aizawa started doing a victory dance that looked like a wild mix between a chicken and a tornado.

Dirga leaned against the wall, chest heaving, sweat dripping—but smiling.

He looked over at Kaito.

Kaito gave him a thumbs up. "Nice job, Captain."

Dirga chuckled. "You’re the captain, remember?"

Kaito grinned. "Not today."

They laughed.

On the other side, Toyonaka wasn’t bitter.

Just tired.

Masaki approached Dirga and extended a fist.

Dirga bumped it.

"Good game," Masaki said.

Dirga nodded. "Hell of a fight."