CHAPTER 70: HORIZON VS RAKUZAN : WE’RE NOT BACKING DOWN 1

Quarter Break.

Rakuzan 21 – Horizon 11.

The buzzer thundered like a war drum.

Rakuzan jogged back to their bench, heads high, voices loud—dominant.

Reiji bumped shoulders with Asahi, the ace, who just winked like he hadn’t even begun to sweat.

Their body language said it all:

We’re not just winning. We’re teaching.

We’re not just playing. We’re dictating.

"We own this court."

On the Horizon bench?

Silence.

Not the kind that signals defeat.

The kind that listens.

The kind that sharpens.

Coach Tsugawa didn’t scream. He didn’t throw his clipboard or curse the refs. His voice was calm—deadly calm.

"They’re not better than you," he said. "They’re just ahead of you." He pointed at the scoreboard. "Ten points is nothing if you make them play your game."

But all eyes were already shifting.

To Dirga.

Because even with the game slipping, the floor still belonged to him.

Not because he scored.

Not because he ran fast.

But because he saw everything.

Every hesitation.

Every trap.

Every frame Rakuzan used to spin the game their way.

Dirga sat still, towel draped over his shoulders, eyes scanning the court like it was a battlefield covered in landmines.

Not frustrated. Just... calculating.

He finally stood.

"We flip the board," he said.

Coach Tsugawa gave a nod.

"Okay, let’s play with Kaito at the two. Dirga stays PG. Rei slides to the three. Aizawa at four, Rikuya center."

Taiga looked like he wanted to protest. The heat still shimmered off him—his jaw clenched, fists still tight.

But Tsugawa cut in before he could speak.

"I know, Taiga. You’ll get your shot. But cool your head. Then we unleash you."

Taiga exhaled hard. Nodded.

"Yes, coach."

Dirga clapped once, loud and sharp.

Kaito cracked his knuckles. Rei rolled his neck. Even Aizawa—usually the quietest—gave a low grunt of focus as he adjusted his sleeves.

Taiga just stared at the floor, jaw set. No one said it. But every heartbeat on that bench thumped with the same message:

Enough playing.

"Let’s win this."

....

The air was thick with tension.

Rakuzan stepped back onto the court with swagger—Reiji leading the way, that same irritating smirk plastered across his face. He wasn’t sweating. He wasn’t nervous.

He was hunting.

But there’s a saying.

The one who starts the fire... is the one who burns first.

And if Reiji thought he was the only one who could set traps?

He was about to meet someone colder.

Dirga glanced at Kaito—one subtle motion. Not a play. A challenge.

Flashy. Relentless. Target their king.

Kaito caught it immediately. His head nodded once.

Let’s burn him.

Dirga’s body stilled.

Then—

Maestro State: Activated.

Tempo Sight: Engaged.

The court unfolded in his mind like a hologram.

Layers of spacing, rhythm, timing—each teammate was a note in a living song.

The ball, his baton.

He didn’t see five players on the court.

He saw currents. Openings. Fault lines.

He didn’t control the game.

He composed it.

He dribbled once. Hard.

Passed to Kaito.

Kaito, lightning-fast, snapped it back.

Reiji was guarding now. Eyes sharp. Smirk sharper.

Dirga danced—crossover, hesitation.

Passed again—Rei on the move.

Rei to Kaito.

Dirga cut.

Like a blade slipping through fabric, silent and merciless.

Needle pass—Kaito split the defense.

Dirga caught it on the move.

He didn’t just attack the lane.

He sliced through it like it owed him something.

He already saw Reiji closing.

Every twitch of muscle. Every slight lean.

He knew the bait was coming.

Reiji launched—trying to draw the foul, to bait the charge.

Dirga shifted his body midair, contorted around the pressure, absorbed the hit—and still laid it in.

Whistle.

And-one.

Reiji stumbled back, blinking.

The gym ignited.

For the first time, the Rakuzan bench shifted. Uneasy. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Dirga wasn’t supposed to land that clean a hit—through contact.

Not on Reiji.

Not that soon.

Dirga landed, chest heaving—but not from exhaustion.

From adrenaline.

From electric, living control

He turned to Reiji, eyes locked.

"That’s it?"

"C’mon. I thought you were a problem."

Smirk. Ice-cold.

He walked to the free throw line, spinning the ball once in his hand.

Didn’t look at the rim.

Only at Reiji.

Shot.

Swish.

21 – 14.

Dirga never broke eye contact.

His lips moved—quiet, sharp.

"Come on."

A taunt. A challenge.

He raised an eyebrow and gave Reiji a shrug—

The universal "What now?" gesture.

"Sure, the ref’s on your side. But foul me like that again? Even they won’t be able to look away."

Reiji’s smile didn’t fade.

But his eyes sharpened.

Rakuzan answered fast.

Tsukasa inbounded and rocketed up the court, tempo igniting again.

But Dirga had already seen it. Already adapted.

He pressed high. Denied Reiji the ball. Shadowed his angle.

Reiji had to drop back—just to receive the pass.

A tiny win—but a win.

Less space. Less control. Less power.

Reiji just chuckled, low and dangerous.

"Smart dog," he muttered as he passed Dirga. "Let’s see how long you can fetch."

Dirga didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

Because the chuckle?

It wasn’t as deep as before.

It trembled—just a little.

Enough.

Rakuzan shifted.

Zipper set.

Tsukasa up top. Reiji on the weak side.

Asahi curled around a double screen—Dirga rotated early, too early, expecting the shot.

Mistake.

Asahi saw it. Instantly.

He didn’t flare out.

He cut backdoor.

Tsukasa didn’t hesitate—lobbed it up like a prayer.

But Asahi?

He made it gospel.

BOOM!

Caught mid-air. Slammed it through.

23 – 14.

The crowd exploded.

Flashbulbs. Gasps. Shouts. Cheers. and digital clicks

Dirga froze for half a second.

He’d forgotten about Asahi.

Not in strategy—no.

But in presence.

Dirga respected the talent. The explosiveness.

But presence? That was a different beast.

And Asahi didn’t just enter the room.

He owned it, every time he left the ground.

Reiji was the chaos.

But Asahi was the hammer.

Dirga reset. Jogged to the inbound line, hand raised, lungs steady, eyes sharper than ever.

Eyes scanning.

One by one.

He would dismantle them.

Reiji.

Then Tsukasa.

And yes—Asahi too.