CHAPTER 57: SCOUTING

The Kansai Regional Tournament opened on a crisp Sunday morning, the air charged with anticipation. Sixteen of the region’s top basketball teams had gathered, their banners fluttering outside the vast expanse of Kyo Arena. The venue was colossal—steel and glass stretched into the sky, reflecting the sun like a monument to the sport. Inside, the roar of excitement echoed off high ceilings. Two full-sized courts gleamed under floodlights, polished to perfection, each ready to host four back-to-back battles. It wasn’t just another tournament. It was a warzone dressed in hardwood and paint.

The opening act? None other than Heian Gakuen.

From the moment the whistle blew, all attention in Kyo Arena snapped to Court One. The stands leaned forward, breath held. This wasn’t just a game—it was a statement.

Heian Gakuen, the pride of Kyoto, stepped onto the floor like they owned it. Their jerseys shimmered under the lights, their movements sharp and synchronized. Across from them stood another Kyoto team—technically a home matchup, but the crowd knew where the power truly lay.

The focus, the whispers, the cameras—all of it locked onto one name.

"The Bermuda Triangle."

A nickname that struck fear across the region.

Their offense was a seamless triangle: Power Forward anchoring the post, Small Forward cutting like a knife through space, and the heart of it all—Center Riku Mamoru. Towering. Quiet. Efficient. He didn’t just block shots—he erased them. And when he got the ball inside that triangle?

You didn’t get it back.

They didn’t rush. They didn’t panic. Their spacing was surgical, every pass delivered with the cool certainty of players who had rehearsed this a thousand times behind closed gym doors.

Like falling into the sea and realizing the current is stronger than you thought—and now you’re too deep to swim back.

Dirga’s eyes narrowed.

In his previous life, when he was with the Toyonaka team, their first-year run had ended right here—against Heian Gakuen. Riku Mamoru had been the one to crush their dreams. But if memory served right, after this year, once Riku graduated, Heian Gakuen would begin to crumble. That year had been their peak. It was Riku’s era.

"This is worth watching," Dirga said, his tone calm but laced with resolve. "We might have to face them in the final."

"I agree," said Kaito, nodding thoughtfully. "Better to study the powerhouse now, rather than be caught off guard later."

Meanwhile, Aizawa and Taiga were already bouncing with excitement—literally. The two of them jumped around like kids on a sugar rush, humming a goofy song they’d made up on the spot. Rei and Hiroki couldn’t help but smile and join in, drawn in by the energy.

Maybe it was the size of the arena, the echo of sneakers on polished floors, or the roar of the crowd—but for a lot of the Horizon team, this was the biggest stage they’d ever stepped foot on.

Dirga glanced over to Rikuya. Unlike the others, he said nothing. But his eyes were sharp, locked onto the court below. Silent admiration. Focused intent.

They soon made their way to the spectator seats.

The moment they entered, the arena buzz hit them like a wave—shouting fans, echoing chants, the thunder of drums. Not just spectators, but players from all 16 schools were in the stands, watching closely. Some with notebooks, others with silent, calculating stares.

They were all here for the same reason: to study their future enemies.

And among them sat Toyonaka—Dirga’s old team.

They were scheduled for the second match of the day, right after Heian Gakuen’s. Of course they were watching. How could they not?

Dirga looked at the bracket again.

If Horizon faced Heian Gakuen, it would only happen in the final.

But Toyonaka’s path was different. If they won their first match, they’d be set to face Heian Gakuen in the semifinals.

A do-or-die match.

Only the two finalists from this region had a shot at the national tournament. One guaranteed. The other had to survive the brutal wild card playoffs.

Since the training camp, Horizon and Toyonaka had grown close—almost like brothers-in-arms. So when the regional tournament began, it felt only natural for both teams to sit together in the crowd, sharing the same section of the Kyo Arena stands.

"Heyyy, so how’s it going?" Dirga grinned as he greeted Yuto, the sharp-eyed point guard from Toyonaka. It hadn’t been that long since they’d last seen each other, but somehow the tournament atmosphere made everything feel more official—more serious.

Yuto nodded casually. "Same old. You guys pulled the short straw, huh? Facing the giants right off the bat?"

"Yeah," Dirga sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "We’re up against Heian Gakuen if we make it to the finals. What about you guys? Who’s your first match?"

"We’re facing Nara Second High," Yuto replied. "Not the champion team, but still a finalist. Can’t afford to underestimate them."

With greetings exchanged, Horizon’s squad slid into the seats beside Toyonaka’s. The arena buzzed with the energy of anticipation—shouts, chants, camera flashes, the sound of shoes squeaking faintly as players warmed up on the court.

"Hey, Masaki!" Dirga called out to the familiar figure sitting two rows ahead—a tall guy with a braid and deep brown skin, impossible to miss even in a sea of jerseys and fans.

Masaki didn’t respond. He sat perfectly still, his usually loud and boisterous energy completely muted. It was strange.

"What’s up with him?" Dirga asked Haruto, sliding in beside him.

Haruto smirked. "Ah, some kids asked for his autograph earlier. Said he looked like an NBA player. One of them even told him, ’I’ll see you in the NBA someday, so I want your first signature now.’"

Dirga blinked, then laughed. "So he’s not quiet—he’s processing

."

"Yep," Haruto grinned. "Running that entire scenario in his head. You know Masaki. That kid might be onto something, though."

Just then, the announcer’s voice boomed over the PA system, cutting through the chatter in the arena.

"Welcome back, everyone, to the 2009 Kansai Regional Tournament!"

The crowd erupted in cheers.

"Starting off the day with a bang—our first match on Court A features none other than Heian Gakuen, the powerhouse of Kyoto, going up against Higashiyama Tech!"

"Oof," someone muttered. "Tough draw."

"I almost feel bad for Higashiyama," the co-commentator chimed in. "Facing the Bermuda Triangle in round one? That’s rough."

Dirga leaned forward as the teams began to emerge from the tunnels, the rhythmic beat of the drums echoing through the arena. He spotted him—Riku Mamoru, Heian’s leader. Even just walking out, the guy had a presence that made your eyes stick to him.

Dirga’s eyes narrowed.

He knew this team. Knew them too well.

In his previous life, this was the wall he couldn’t climb. Heian Gakuen had crushed Toyonaka’s dreams back then, keeping them from Nationals. But now, things were different. He had knowledge. He had a new team. A second chance.

The game tipped off, and as expected, Heian Gakuen dominated from the start.

Their infamous Triangle Attack was in full swing—Riku at the center, orchestrating everything like a point forward. Despite being a power forward, his passing and vision rivaled most guards. On top of that, Heian’s actual point guard had surgical precision, acting as a perfect bridge to activate the triangle offense.

It wasn’t just athleticism—it was a system. A well-oiled, suffocating system.

Dirga watched intently, mind racing, committing every movement, every rotation to memory.

This wasn’t just a game. It was recon.