The buzzer groaned across the gym—deep and distant, like thunder grumbling behind heavy clouds.
End of First Quarter:
Horizon 21 – Kurotsuki 9.
But neither bench celebrated.
Not even Horizon's.
…
Horizon Bench
No cheers.
No smiles.
Just the rustle of towels.
And breath—measured, heavy, filling the silence like fog.
Dirga hunched forward, arms draped over his knees. His chest rose and fell in even intervals—disciplined.
Eyes unblinking.
Still reading the court.
Still writing the narrative in his mind.
Taiga tilted his head back, chugging water in short, sharp gulps. The bottle crinkled in his grip.
Pacing behind them, Aizawa didn't speak. He wasn't angry.
He was mapping possibilities.
At the scorer's table, Rei leaned with one shoulder pressed firm. His jersey strap slipped—he adjusted it.
Once.
Twice.
Three times in ten seconds.
And then—Kaito.
He didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't even blink.
