The clinic was quiet.
Dirga, Horizon’s ace, lay asleep on the examination bed. Still, unmoving—
As if all the fury and fire from the Toyonaka match had burned out of him completely.
Outside the room, Horizon’s players were spread across the clinic floor—
Exhausted, asleep in chairs, against walls, so even on the ground.
Their jerseys still half-drenched in sweat, shoes kicked off, breathing heavy.
They were waiting.
For him to wake up.
In the corner sat Coach Tsugawa, Sayaka, Ayaka, and Takeshi-sensei, Dirga’s uncle.
Even Aoi, Toyonaka’s manager—and Dirga’s cousin—was there.
No rivalry now. Just family. Just people who cared.
Takeshi-sensei finally broke the silence.
"So... how is Dirga?"
The doctor looked up from the monitor, speaking low.
"Stable. But he needs rest. His muscle fibers are at critical fatigue, and his vitals show extre physical stress. He pushed himself far beyond normal output."
"I see," Takeshi-sensei nodded. "Thank you, Doctor."
He turned to look at Dirga—his nephew.
Peaceful, for once.
And yet, in his stillness, he looked so much like his father—Takeshi’s brother.
The sa fire. The sa intensity when it ca to sothing he loved.
Basketball.
He plays like there’s no tomorrow.
Because sotis, in his heart—maybe he believes there isn’t.
Coach Tsugawa leaned back, eyes still on Dirga.
"He’s a tough kid."
Takeshi-sensei smiled, tired and proud.
"Yeah... a tough one."
And in that room—
filled with worn-out players, quiet machines, and the hum of rest—
they waited.
For the fire to wake again.
...
anwhile, at the arena...
The last match of the tournant played out like a royal parade.
Wakayama Seiryuu vs. Heian Gakuen.
And even though Heian’s core had taken damage through the tourney,
they showed why they were still standing among giants.
The Emperor’s Guard still had bite.
Hard-fought—but no overti.
Heian Gakuen clinched it.
And with that, the results were set:
1st Place – Horizon
2nd Place – Toyonaka
3rd Place – Heian Gakuen
The gym slowly emptied, the crowd began to drift, and the stage for the award ceremony started to take shape.
There was an hour to rest.
Back in the clinic...
Dirga opened his eyes slowly, the light stinging.
Then he blinked a few tis and muttered:
"Mmm... that was a nice sleep."
Then—
Pain.
His whole body throbbed like soone poured fire through his bloodstream.
"Ughh—what the hell..."
From beside him ca a familiar voice—mocking, but warm.
"Wake wake?" Ayaka tilted her head, smug grin on her face.
"Yeah, but... I feel like I got run over," Dirga groaned. "Everything hurts."
Ayaka sat back and crossed her arms.
"Just rest. You’ve got an hour till the ceremony."
"Where is everyone?"
Dirga looked around, noticing how quiet the room was now.
"They were all waiting... but when you didn’t wake up, their stomachs won the war. Food patrol, all of them," Ayaka said, shrugging.
"Ugh, don’t say that—now I’m hungry too."
Right on cue, his stomach growled.
Ayaka stood, disappeared for a mont, and ca back with a tray.
Nothing flashy—doctor-approved recovery food. Warm rice, chicken slices, miso soup. Plain, healthy, energy-packed.
"Not the most gourt al, but you’ll live."
"Yeah, maybe," Dirga muttered, reaching for the chopsticks—only to flinch.
Pain shot through his arm.
"Tch. Stop being stubborn," Ayaka said, lightly smacking his hand.
"Let ."
She took the chopsticks, picked up a bite of rice, and brought it to his lips.
"Here."
Dirga blinked. A little red in the face.
"Is this... how it feels to win?"
He took the bite. Swallowed slowly. Warm. Simple. Safe.
Then—
"So... when’s our next date?" Ayaka grinned.
Dirga choked. Literally.
"W-Water—!"
Ayaka handed him a cup, not even hiding her laughter.
"You promised," she said softly.
Dirga took a sip, still coughing a little.
"Okay—after exams."
He looked away, pretending to focus on the food.
Because he knew what ca next.
The Nationals.
But before that—exams.
If he didn’t pass, he wouldn’t play.
None of Horizon would.
It was school policy. And it ant everything was on the line, again.
But if they made it through...
Week 1 of Sumr Break: Wild Card Tournant—teams from other regions fighting for the final seed.
Week 2: The real war begins.
The National Tournant.
Where legends were born.
Where dreams shattered or soared.
And Dirga—tired, sore, and barely able to lift a chopstick—smiled.
"Let’s pass this test...
...then we fight again."
...
anwhile — Toyonaka Locker Room
Silence.
Shoes unlaced, jerseys half-off, towels over faces.
No one spoke. No one moved.
Aoi reentered, sliding the door shut behind her. She had just co back from the clinic.
Masaki looked up first, jaw tight.
"How is he?"
Aoi folded her arms. Her voice was steady.
"He’s fine. Exhausted. Pushed too far. But still breathing."
Masaki didn’t reply at first. His fingers curled slightly.
He’d said it himself.
I’ll break my limits.
But what he saw in Dirga wasn’t just a broken limit.
It was soone who pushed until his body nearly snapped.
And still stood.
Still played.
And won.
A wave of quiet spread over the room. Heavy. Gloomy.
The kind of silence that feels like the end.
But Aoi—Aoi hated this mood.
She stepped forward.
"Can we stop this?"
Everyone looked up.
"This isn’t the end. Why are we acting like it is?"
Her voice cracked just enough to show how angry she was.
Not at them.
But at this defeated silence.
"We still have a chance. Wild Card. Nationals aren’t over."
Masaki looked at her. Yuto too. Even Haruto, silent as ever, glanced up.
"So what if we lost today?" she continued.
"Dirga lost to us before. Today he won. That’s how it goes. One day up, one day down. Are we so weak we can’t climb again?"
Yuto stood. Fast.
"She’s right."
Everyone turned.
"You guys really gonna let Aoi be tougher than you?" Yuto smirked. "Seriously. We lost. So what?"
"We’ve beaten Horizon before. They beat us today. That’s how rivals are made."
He looked around the room, voice rising.
"The Wild Card is ours. We take that, we’re back in. We et Horizon again. And next ti..."
Yuto’s fists clenched.
"We don’t let it end like this."
Shunpei stood next. Then Daichi. Then Haruto.
And Masaki?
He slowly rose, still sore, but eyes clear.
"Yeah... We’re not done."
The mood shifted.
Gloom faded.
A new spark lit the air.
This wasn’t a loss.
It was a warning.
Toyonaka will be back.
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