CHAPTER 123: HORIZON VS TOYONAKA : MAESTRO’S LAST NOTE ONCE AGAIN 4

Fast break.

Kaito sprinted down the court — open floor.

Yuto chased.

Everyone else was trailing behind.

Kaito euro-stepped—

Fake. Side step.

Yuto didn’t bite.

He waited.

Jumped.

PAKK!

BLOCKED!

The ball slammed into the backboard—

ricocheted back toward center court.

Everyone crashed the paint.

Taiga leapt—missed.

Rikuya and Haruto jumped together.

Their hands collided—struggling for control.

Rough. Violent. Desperate.

The whistle blew.

"Jump ball! The ref calls a tie!"

0:32 remaining.

"This is insane! Bodies on the floor, blocks, deflections—this game is pure willpower now!"

"Another jump ball... and only 32 seconds left in the final!"

...

Maybe the last jump.

Rikuya, the Titan of Horizon.

Haruto, the Tower of Toyonaka.

The referee raised the ball.

Whistle. Toss.

They both leapt.

Rikuya got there first—tipped it left.

Aizawa caught it—

But Yuto was there!

A tip—chaos again!

The ball went loose—bodies everywhere—hands scrambling—

Yuto came up with it!

But—

Dirga and Taiga closed in. Hard. Fast.

Pressure. Trap.

Yuto turned to pass—Dirga stole it.

Dirga raced toward the Toyonaka court.

But he wasn’t alone.

Masaki and Yuto.

One left. One right.

No escape.

Dirga broke his sprint—step-back dribble.

He didn’t force it.

He waited.

Masaki didn’t. He doubled with Yuto.

But—

Tempo Sight – GodFrame Active

Dirga saw it.

The court in slow motion.

Angles. Movement. Timing.

He saw Kaito—cutting in.

A soft, perfect pass—

Right into Kaito’s hands.

Even Kaito blinked in surprise.

He was wide open.

Three-point shot.

The arc — beautiful.

CLANG.

Miss.

Haruto leapt for the rebound—grabbed it.

But—

Rikuya slapped it out!

Loose again!

Taiga snatched it!

Quick pass to Dirga.

10 seconds.

Dirga caught it.

His breath slowed.

His vision locked on Masaki.

Just like the prefecture final.

One last play.

One last shot.

Dirga vs. Masaki.

Everyone backed away.

Isolation.

9...

Dirga dribbled. Left. Right.

8...

Masaki mirrored him. Didn’t bite.

7...

Dirga jabbed right.

Exploded left.

6...

Masaki stayed with him.

Body to body.

5...

Dirga absorbed the contact.

Step back.

4...

He was at the three-point line.

3...

Dirga rose for the shot.

His legs burning.

His arms steady.

His mind quiet.

Step-back three.

Release.

He fell. The court hit his back.

The ball rose into the air—

Slow. Perfect. Silent.

The gym held its breath.

The crowd—thousands strong—went still.

No voices.

No drums.

Not even a single shoe squeak.

Only the ball. Spinning. Hanging. Deciding.

One spin.

Two.

Three.

Clink—back rim.

Drop.

Swish.

99 – 98.

And then—

Sound returned.

"DIRGA!! DIRGA!! DIRGANTARA RENJI JUST WON IT!!"

But even that was drowned out.

The court erupted.

At first it was a rush of footsteps.

The sound of shoes slamming hardwood.

Then a scream—Ayaka’s voice breaking through first:

"DIRGAAA!!"

Then a wall of sound behind it—

A tidal wave of roars, chants, cries, and laughter.

The gym shook.

But for Dirga—

Everything moved in slow motion.

Kaito ran toward him first, yelling his name—

His arms wide, pulling him into a hug.

Rikuya followed. Then Taiga. Then Aizawa.

One by one, the team fell on him—

A pile of exhaustion and joy.

Ayaka sprinted to the edge of the court, tears on her cheeks, still screaming.

From the bench—

Coach Tsugawa’s arms raised, fists clenched, head lowered—whispering something only he heard.

Takeshi-sensei. Sayaka. The managers. The crowd.

All pouring out their voice.

All pouring it toward one name.

DIRGA.

Above the chaos—confetti machines fired from the rafters.

Tiny bits of silver and gold rained down.

The air shimmered like starlight.

Dirga sat on the floor still, chest heaving.

Kaito pulled him up.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t need to.

Because in that moment, the court belonged to him.

The noise.

The weight.

The lights.

The win.

Dirga looked up at the scoreboard.

99 – 98.

Then—

He smiled.

Not wide. Not loud.

Just... a quiet smile.

The kind that means: it’s over. We did it.

And then—

He let himself fall back.

Onto the hardwood.

...

"And just like that... this game ends."

"We thought—honestly—we might be heading for a second overtime. Just like Toyonaka’s match against Heian Gakuen. But no. It ends here. In one."

"And what an ending it was. From the very first quarter, the intensity never dropped. Both of these teams brought everything."

"Two rising powers out of Osaka. Horizon and Toyonaka met in the prefecture finals... and now again in the regional final. And guess what? It could happen again."

"Exactly. Horizon moves on to the nationals, three weeks from now. But Toyonaka’s journey might not be over. They still have a shot at the wild card berth. And if they qualify—"

"Then we’ll get a round three. And I think everyone—everyone—wants to see that."

"No doubt. The scouts are already taking notes. There’s enough tape from this game to study for weeks."

"And don’t forget, we’ve still got the 3rd-place match coming up—Wakayama Seiryuu vs. Heian Gakuen. Then, the closing ceremony."

Suddenly—

Dirga’s hands were trembling.

He gripped at his jersey, then his side.

His chest rose, then stopped.

Then again—short, sharp breaths.

He was smiling, but he wasn’t steady.

And suddenly—

The Horizon bench stood.

The staff waved.

The medical team ran.

"Hold on—what’s happening?"

"There’s movement on the court. Medics entering—fast."

"They’re headed to center court—Dirga’s down. He’s... he’s not getting up on his own."

"Did something happen during the shot? Or is this... is it fatigue?"

"This kid—he’s been running on empty for two quarters."

"That kind of intensity comes with a cost..."

The medical team crouched beside him.

Kaito moved aside. So did Rikuya.

Taiga looked shaken for the first time all game.

They gently checked Dirga’s breathing, his pulse, his responses.

He was conscious.

Smiling.

But gone.

Not in pain.

Just... empty.

Like a candle burned to the base, but still glowing.

The crowd stilled again.

That reverent hush returned.

You could hear the zip of a medic’s bag opening.

The soft static of a walkie-talkie.

The click of an ice pack.

A whistle dropping to the hardwood.

A cheerleader crying quietly into her sleeve.

They helped Dirga to his feet.

He didn’t walk alone.

One medic supported his side.

Another steadied his shoulder.

He didn’t fight it.

Didn’t pretend.

He just nodded once to the crowd.

To his team.

To the moment.

And as he limped off the court—

Everyone stood.

Not yelling now.

Just clapping.

A standing ovation.

For the Maestro.

"Let’s hope it’s nothing serious."

"He gave everything. That was more than basketball. That was heart."

"That was one of the greatest finishes... I’ve ever witnessed."

And just like that—

the game was over.

But the legend?

Just beginning.