CHAPTER 119: HORIZON VS TOYONAKA : ECHOES AT THE BUZZER 4

Masaki dropped the towel.

His eyes pierced through the noise.

His voice was calm. Cold. Sharp.

"No," he said. "We’re not here to shut him down.

I’m going to destroy him."

Silence.

"He’s good—fine. He’s in the zone? I don’t care.

He’s still human. And humans have limits.

If he breaks them—I’ll break mine harder."

He stood up, slow, like a titan dragging himself from the earth.

"I didn’t come back from the States just to play.

I came to win.

If I can’t beat him here—

I don’t belong in the NBA.

I promised I’d take us to Nationals. I’m not breaking that promise now."

Masaki turned.

His gaze didn’t land on Reina.

Or Yuto.

Or the court.

It locked on the one player standing alone near the baseline, never looking away from their bench.

Dirga.

And then—

Yuto stood up next.

"There’s just one Dirga.

But there’s five of us.

If we all go beyond... he’ll fall."

Shunpei leaned in, fists tight.

Daichi slammed both palms into his chest.

Haruto cracked his knuckles with a growl.

"Let’s break our limits."

Masaki’s voice, iron in the storm.

"Nine points? One minute?

We turn this around."

And just like that—

The final push began.

Back on court.

Horizon still led.

But now?

Toyonaka chased.

Just like in the Regional Final.

Except this time—they were the ones behind.

...

00:59

Yuto inbounded.

The ball kissed Masaki’s hands.

And then—

Everything changed.

The roar of the crowd?

Muted.

Just a low hum behind his heartbeat.

The court?

Clear.

Like an overhead map etched into his brain.

His breath slowed.

His legs lightened.

And the rim?

It wasn’t just a circle anymore.

It was calling him.

"There."

"Twelve meters. Slight angle. Defender trailing. Fade window open."

Click.

Masaki moved.

One dribble.

Dirga met him.

Like a wall made of instinct.

Every twitch of muscle, Dirga read.

He mirrored every step—every feint—like a reflection in a perfect mirror.

But Masaki...

Masaki was no longer thinking.

He wasn’t reacting.

He wasn’t playing basketball.

He was expressing it.

One sharp snap to the left—

A stutter-step—

Dirga bit. Just a breath. Just a blink.

Masaki vanished like smoke.

Passed.

Taiga rotated—fast, aggressive.

Masaki didn’t slow.

Took the bump.

Stayed on one foot.

A drifting, one-legged fadeaway jumper—

Body bent against gravity.

Eyes never leaving the rim.

Wrist snapping in perfect angle.

Fsssshhh.

81 – 74.

He landed, staggered once—

But didn’t stumble.

The silence in his ears lifted for a second, just long enough to hear one voice:

"MASAKI!!!"

He didn’t look back.

He just turned, eyes forward, and whispered—

"Not done yet."

Yuto saw it.

Masaki—different.

Eyes like iron.

A man on a mission.

And if Masaki was the blade...

Then Yuto had to be the shield.

"I’ll be the wall Dirga can’t break."

Deep breath.

Focus.

This was it.

Dirga brought the ball up—calm, focused, flowing.

But Yuto?

Yuto met him just past the line.

Chest low. Arms wide. Fingers twitching.

Pressure.

A slap at the ball.

No call.

He didn’t blink—didn’t lose eye contact.

Dirga shifted.

A twitch in his shoulder—

A shift in his hips—

Yuto’s instincts flared.

He lunged—

But it was a bait.

Dirga flowed past—

Except—

Masaki was there.

Swipe.

Steal.

The ball ricocheted into open space—

Yuto dove—

Snatched it.

Crowd erupted—

But there was no time to hear.

Yuto straightened.

Saw Masaki.

And passed.

The court turned.

Horizon scrambled back.

Rei pointing.

Taiga yelling.

Dirga running.

But Masaki... slowed.

One step.

Two.

A breath.

A step back.

"You’re pulling up from there?"

He didn’t hesitate.

He let it fly.

Arcing, high, sharp.

The kind of shot that makes the whole gym inhale.

Swiiisshh.

81 – 77.

The net snapped.

00:43

Four points.

Time didn’t just tick.

It pounded.

Each second a heartbeat slamming against ribcages.

On the other end—

Dirga clenched his jaw.

His heart beat like a war drum.

He’d already used Flow.

But Masaki...

Masaki was something else now.

A storm wrapped in skin.

"A generational talent..."

And then—

Dirga activated it.

[Active Skill – Godframe: Initiated 00:45 second]

The world split.

His vision changed.

Like his soul detached from his body.

Hovering.

Enemies glowed red.

Teammates bathed in blue.

The court—like a chessboard.

Every passing lane. Every mistake. Every breath—visible.

"I see it all."

He grabbed the inbound.

What now?

Run the clock?

Hold it?

Or take the shot—

And risk everything?

He hesitated.

That was all Yuto and Daichi needed.

Pressure.

Full-court trap.

Breath on his neck. Arms jabbing like blades.

Dirga dipped—dribbled low—trying to shake free—

No gap.

So he passed.

Rei, top of the arc.

Open—

Or so it seemed.

SHWAP—!

Haruto exploded in.

Read it.

Blocked it.

PAKKKK!

The ball spun high—

Wild—untamed—

But Masaki was already there.

Right place. Right time.

He didn’t think.

He ran.

Rikuya followed.

Looming. Breathing hard. Ready for war.

Masaki hit the paint.

Slowed—then dropped into a low post stance.

Rikuya squared up.

Chest tight. Hands wide.

Masaki spun.

Rikuya stayed with him.

Then—

Another spin.

A blur.

A blur that twisted space.

Rikuya bit.

Masaki slammed into him.

BUMP.

And then—

He rose.

One arm. One motion. One breath.

Whistle.

And one.

81 – 80.

Just one more point.

This game would be etched in history—

Decided by a single possession.

24 seconds.

Dirga grabbed the inbound.

Slow it down.

Kill the clock.

But Yuto came charging—

Foul.

The ref’s whistle echoed like a pistol shot.

Free throws.

From the stands, a war:

"MISS! MISS! MISS!" – Toyonaka’s roar

"DIRGA! DIRGA! DIRGA!" – Horizon’s answer

The court vibrated. The rim seemed smaller.

But Dirga?

He was still.

One breath. One bounce. Look. Fire.

Swish.

82 – 80.

He tossed a glance at his teammates—

No celebration.

Not yet.

Second shot. One bounce. Two. Release.

Swish.

83 – 80.

10 seconds

Yuto inbounding.

A full-court press.

Rei stuck to him like glue.

Yuto launched it—

A high pass over half court.

9 second

Masaki caught it.

Dirga met him.

Pressure.

Taiga joined.

Masaki spotted Shunpei cutting free.

Bounce pass—through the legs.

8 second

Shunpei caught it—set his feet.

Rikuya charged.

He pivoted—pass to Haruto.

7 second

Haruto rose.

Aizawa flew in.

Fingertips grazed it.

6 second

The ball popped loose—chaos.

Yuto recovered.

Dirga and Taiga crashed toward him.

5 second

Masaki slipped a screen—freed himself.

Yuto dumped it back.

4 second

Masaki caught. Stepped back.

Shoot.

3 second

The ball cut the air—

Perfect arc.

Beautiful. Deadly.

It kissed the front rim—

BOUNCE.

Up.

BOUNCE.

Back iron.

BOUNCE.

Spins—

One. Two. Three...

DROP.

BUZZER.

83 – 83.

Overtime.