Halftime Score: 28–26.
The tension hung heavy in the air. Our bench was silent—focused. I was breathing hard, chest tight. Coach Tsugawa approached.
"Dirga, see me," he said, just like in the first quarter.
"Yes, Coach," I replied, sweat dripping down my face.
"Okay. Kaito and Hiroki, you're in. Dirga and Rei, take a breather."
"Got it," Kaito said calmly, already standing.
But Hiroki… he looked nervous again, fidgeting on the bench. I placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Hiroki," I said, locking eyes with him, "believe. You're not alone out there. Rikuya's got your back—and so does our captain. Just pass the ball and keep it moving."
I clapped his hand, followed by Kaito and then Rikuya. One by one, the team joined in. Hiroki still looked anxious, but a faint fire began to light behind his eyes.
…
Third Quarter Begins
Kaito would play up to eight minutes max—any longer and his stamina might crack. But in that short window?
He lit up the court.
His playmaking was next-level—better than anyone else on either team. When the tempo got too fast, he slowed it down with smart ball movement. When things got too sluggish, he sped it up like a conductor hitting a crescendo.
Hiroki found his footing too—providing solid ball rotation and hitting a couple of mid-range shots. We held firm.
Toyonaka benched a few starters, including Masaki and Yuto, probably to rest them for the fourth. But that decision backfired.
Score: 42–32.
We were up by ten. Kaito's leadership on the court turned the momentum completely in our favor.
But then, Toyonaka's core five checked back in.
The real game began again.
Masaki returned—and immediately launched into a scoring clinic. Rikuya struggled to keep him in front. On the other end, Taiga kept getting into foul trouble trying to contain him.
Kaito, now running for six straight minutes, was clearly gassed. But his face? Determined. He wasn't ready to come out.
Coach Tsugawa looked at him, paused for a moment, then finally called it.
"Dirga, you're in."
I tapped out Kaito while Rei subbed in for Taiga. We needed Aizawa's defense now more than ever.
"Just focus on offense," Coach said. "Leave Masaki be—give him soft defense. We can't stop him, so we'll outscore him."
A bold, almost reckless strategy—but it worked early
We traded baskets.
They scored.
We scored more.
Score: 48–42.
End of the third quarter.
But we had underestimated Masaki.
He wasn't just scoring anymore.
He was destroying us—drawing fouls, dishing assists, controlling the pace.
…
"Taiga, you're coming in again," Coach said.
"Play like it's your last day. I'll treat you all to extra ramen."
The bench erupted.
"Ramen? Say no more!"
With that, our spirits were back.
…
Fourth Quarter
It turned into a war.
Rikuya went full beast mode—The Titan of Japan roared to life. He screamed after each rebound, each block, and every bucket.
Taiga and Rikuya doubled Masaki hard, but that left others open. Reality set in.
We were the underdogs.
Our attributes were average.
They were the elite.
But I couldn't lose.
Not this time.
[Activating Flow Echo]
[Flow Mode 200% Activated – Duration: 5 minutes]
The clock showed 7 minutes left. I planned to end it in five and hand the rest to my team.
Score: 54–58.
Toyonaka had taken the lead.
People expected me to pass. Instead, I drove in and hit a pull-up mid-range jumper.
Even with Rei open in the corner, I pulled off a contested fadeaway.
I was in the Flow.
My teammates saw it. They fed me the ball, trusted me.
Layups, step-backs, floaters—I took over the offense.
But on the other end… Masaki kept responding.
He cut in, pulled up, drained threes, bullied the paint.
A pure scorer versus a pure scorer.
The game turned into a shootout.
But I knew this couldn't continue.
Something had to change.
Instead of forcing more shots, I switched gears.
I picked up Masaki—on defense.
Every possession, I stayed glued to him. I contested every shot, funneled him into help, forced him into bad angles. When he drove, I was there with Rikuya. We grinded him down.
69–64.
The Flow had ended.
Dirga's chest heaved, sweat dripping from his chin like a leaky faucet. His legs felt like lead. The brief superhuman burst from Echo Flow was gone, and now the weight of reality came crashing back. But the fire in his eyes hadn't faded.
Across from him, Masaki King—Toyonaka High's ace—moved like a shadow. Still relentless. Still lethal.
Kaito got up from the bench. "Let me in, Coach. Let me play."
Coach Tsugawa hesitated. He knew about Kaito's condition. But he also saw the fire in his eyes.
"…Okay. Stay safe."
Kaito clapped Rei's shoulder and turned to the court, his expression calm but commanding. "Alright," he said as he passed Dirga, "I've got the floor. Just play your game."
Dirga gave a tired nod. No need for speeches.
The gym was quiet. Just the squeaks of sneakers and the sharp inhale of tense breathing.
No crowd. No cheers. Only the game.
69–66.
Masaki had just hit a contested layup through traffic. Even with Rikuya and Taiga hounding him, he made it look easy.
One minute and twenty seconds left.
Kaito brought the ball up, gesturing with his hand. The team spread out. Dirga hovered on the wing, hands ready.
Kaito passed to Aizawa. Fake. Then to Dirga.
Masaki switched onto Dirga instantly, eyes locked.
Dirga jab-stepped. Masaki didn't budge.
He dribbled once, twice. Then drove left.
Masaki stayed with him.
Dirga stopped on a dime — fadeaway jumper.
Swish.
71–66.
His body screamed. But there was no time to feel it.
Toyonaka didn't hesitate. They pushed.
Masaki ran off a screen. Aizawa tried to recover but slipped.
Catch. Shoot.
71–69.
Thirty seconds.
Timeout? No. Kaito signaled to push.
"Dirga," he said under his breath, "one more."
Dirga nodded, gulping air like water.
He got the ball near the top. This time, Masaki was a step closer.
Ten seconds on the shot clock.
Dirga faked right—Masaki bit. Dirga spun left, powered into the lane.
Masaki recovered—
Dirga felt the hand brushing his hip. The body on his side.
He jumped, leaned away—
Contact. Shot released.
Whistle.
The ball bounced on the rim.
Once…
Twice…
In.
And-one.
Gasps from both benches.
Dirga dropped to one knee. His legs had nothing left.
Kaito ran to help him up.
His own breaths were shaky now. His shirt clung to his skin, soaked with sweat. His legs wobbled, but he smiled.
"Finish it," he said quietly, eyes tired but proud.
Dirga staggered to the line. He could barely see straight.
Dribble. Inhale. Shoot.
Clang—
Rikuya soared in. Tip-back? No. He palmed it, kicked it out to Taiga.
Toyonaka fouled instantly.
Taiga missed the first. Made the second.
74–69.
Twelve seconds.
Masaki sprinted down. Took the screen. Pulled up from deep—
Rikuya blocked it.
The ball rolled toward half court.
Dirga didn't even think. He dove.
His hand slapped leather just before Masaki could reach it.
The buzzer blared.
Game.
Dirga lay on the floor, face down, chest heaving.
No cheers.
Only the sound of heavy breathing, sneakers shuffling, and Coach Tsugawa clapping once.
Kaito crouched beside him, knees trembling, sweat dripping down his jaw.
"Good work," he panted with a rare grin. "You earned your ramen."
Dirga didn't answer.
He was too tired to talk.
But he smiled.
And beside him, so did Kaito.