CHAPTER 128: THIS EXAM IS OUR FINAL

The morning sun washed over the gates of Horizon High, casting golden rays across the campus.

Dirga stepped onto the grounds.

And there it was.

Bold. Proud. Fluttering gently in the breeze above the main building.

"Congratulations Horizon Basketball Team – Kyoto Regional Champions! See You at Nationals!"

His eyes lingered on the banner.

His chest tightened—just a little.

Pride? Relief? Maybe both.

He smiled. Not just with his lips, but with something deeper.

Sweet.

Sweet Horizon.

Each step through the courtyard felt... different.

The usual background noise—the chatter, the footsteps, the rustle of bags—faded slightly.

Eyes turned.

Heads nodded.

Some whispered.

Some pointed.

So this is what they call... the athlete effect?

He wasn’t invisible anymore.

He wasn’t "just a first-year" anymore.

He was Dirgantara Renji. Horizon’s maestro. A piece of history walking the hallway.

"Hey."

A familiar voice came from his left.

Dirga turned—already guessing.

Ayaka approached, casual but sharp-eyed as ever, with her older sister Sayaka in step beside her. Both in Horizon’s uniform, both radiant in different ways. One cheerful. The other, calculating.

Ayaka raised a brow.

"You’re grinning. Is it the banner?" She leaned closer, narrowing her eyes. "Or is it... girls?"

Dirga blinked. "The banner," he said quickly, straight-faced. "There’s nothing wrong with appreciating school spirit."

"Mm-hmm." Ayaka clearly didn’t buy it, but she let it go with a huff.

Sayaka just chuckled quietly beside her, like someone used to watching this dance.

"Enjoy the spotlight while it lasts, superstar," Ayaka added with a playful nudge.

Together, the three of them walked through the crowd—parting it without even trying.

Eventually, they reached the stairway.

"Second-year wing," Sayaka said with a wave.

"Good luck," Ayaka added, turning toward her own class.

Dirga raised his hand in farewell as Ayaka and Sayaka disappeared down the hallway.

Then he turned—toward the first-year wing. His classroom. His desk.

Another day of school.

Another countdown to the exams.

...

The bell rang.

Most students cheered at the signal to go home.

But Dirga didn’t follow the crowd out the gate.

Instead, he walked toward a different destination.

Not his home.

But Horizon’s home court—the place where sweat and dreams lived.

But this time...

No one was shooting.

No drills. No sneakers squeaking on the floor.

The court had transformed.

Not into a battlefield... but a classroom.

Desks were pulled in. Whiteboard dragged to the side.

Notebooks scattered. Textbooks opened.

A full-scale study group was underway.

First-Year Team:

Dirga, Taiga, Hiroki, and Rei.

Young blood. Full of potential—and panic.

Second-Year Team:

Kaito, Aizawa, Sayaka.

And unexpectedly... Ayaka.

Third-Year Solo:

Rikuya. Sitting cross-legged near the corner hoop, calmly flipping through a workbook.

Dirga blinked when he saw Ayaka, already setting up materials with her usual efficiency.

She didn’t even look up before speaking.

Her voice came sharp, as if reading his thoughts.

"What? Want to ask why I’m here?"

Dirga awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

"I decided to help you guys," Ayaka continued. "First-year, second-year material—I’ve got it covered."

She sat down, folded her arms, and shot him a look that said you better keep up.

And no one complained.

Because Ayaka—and Kaito—were monsters in the classroom.

Top 10 in their grade, year after year.

Sayaka and Rikuya? Solid. Reliable. Quiet achievers.

Dirga, Hiroki, Rei?

Hanging on. Somewhere between average and "please let me pass."

And then...

The Bottom Tier.

Taiga. Aizawa.

Aizawa had already failed once. Red-flagged.

Taiga? Let’s just say... numbers weren’t his thing.

But Coach Tsugawa’s ramen was on the line.

That sacred bowl—tender broth, hand-made noodles, the reward promised only to those who passed.

At first, the ramen drove them.

Aizawa and Taiga studied like their lives depended on it.

Then reality hit.

"What even is

this equation?" Taiga muttered, staring at his math sheet like it was written in alien code.

Aizawa slammed his forehead on the desk. "I’m going to die before I touch that ramen..."

Days bled together.

Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday.

Each one followed a new rhythm:

Light training in the morning.

Heavy studying in the evening.

Kaito and Ayaka became the team’s new coaches—

Teaching equations like tactics.

Drilling history like defense.

"Don’t memorize the date—remember the event flow," Ayaka said, pointing to the timeline like a playbook.

Dirga, surprisingly, became the English MVP.

Even Kaito and Ayaka leaned in when Dirga explained sentence structures and idioms.

"NBA interviews," he said casually. "You think I’m not going to be ready for them?"

He made it look easy.

But it wasn’t.

Saturday. Sunday.

No parties. No games.

Only pens, flashcards, open books, and determination.

Dirga didn’t just study for himself.

He stayed late with Aizawa.

He ran quizzes with Taiga.

He pushed Hiroki and Rei past their comfort zones.

This wasn’t about grades.

This was about the team.

And then...

It came.

Monday.

The start of it all.

Three days. Six subjects. Countless questions.

The Academic Tournament had begun.

And this time, the court wasn’t wood and hoops.

It was lined paper, ink, and the sound of pencils scratching in silence.

Horizon had stepped into a new battle.

And they’d either pass together—

Or fall alone.

...

The first day of exams.

The school felt different.

As if the walls themselves were holding their breath.

Dirga stepped into his classroom.

A strange silence swallowed the air.

No idle chatter. No greetings.

Just the rustle of paper, the soft scribble of pencils...

And the quiet tension of war.

Everyone was deep in their own battle—

Eyes narrowed, brows furrowed, hearts pounding.

Dirga sat at his desk.

His palms were a little sweaty.

His body still held echoes of soreness from regionals,

but his mind was sharp.

He took a breath.

And the first bell rang.

Day One:

Math. Japanese.

Questions like fast breaks—fast, sharp, punishing if you misread.

But Dirga kept pace.

Day Two:

History. Science.

Ayaka’s drills echoed in his brain like court calls.

Dates, logic chains, names of reformers, molecules, formulas.

Every answer, a shot taken.

Day Three:

English. Electives.

Dirga’s domain.

He moved through the questions like running a perfect fast break—

Fluent, confident, smooth.

Somewhere, Taiga was sweating buckets.

Aizawa looked like he was clinging to life by sheer will.

Hiroki was muttering to himself.

Rei was blank-faced—but writing.

Sayaka’s hand moved like a machine.

Ayaka, perfect posture. Calm. Focused.

Kaito barely blinked—he didn’t just study; he understood.

And Rikuya?

Rikuya was probably done ten minutes early, quietly sleeping with his head on the desk.

Three days.

No one collapsed.

No one gave up.

The final bell rang.

Pens dropped.

Students leaned back, sighing like soldiers after a siege.

The exam...

Was over.

All that was left—

Was to wait.

Hope.

And believe.

Dirga looked around the room.

Some were smiling.

Some were pale.

Some... didn’t even know what to feel yet.

But whatever the result—

They had fought.

Together.