CHAPTER 134: BURN THE WOLVES DOWN

The last bag zipped shut.

Muscles sore. Sweat wiped. Knees cracked from one last stretch. Shoelaces pulled tight once more.

And then, Horizon and Toyonaka—united for just a moment longer—stepped out of the Yoyogi gym into the sharp Tokyo afternoon.

The air bit cold against their flushed skin. The sky above was grayed by thick clouds, sunlight dulled, casting long shadows that stretched along the pavement like echoes of war.

But they weren’t alone.

Six figures stood at the edge of the gym’s exit.

Tall. Still. Watching.

Their matching dark blue warm-ups shimmered faintly under the light. On each chest: a white insignia stitched with precision—

A wolf howling beneath northern stars.

Sapporo North Wolves.

Blocking the path. Not moving. Not speaking.

Intentional.

The atmosphere snapped like a pulled string.

"What’s this?" Taiga muttered, stepping slightly forward. His tone light—but his shoulders coiled.

Then, one of the Wolves stepped forward.

Tall—easily over 183 centimeters. Hair black, swept upward like frozen flame. His eyes were unreadable, his movement casual but composed. No wasted energy.

He spoke with a voice as smooth as falling snow—low, steady, and sharp enough to slice tension without raising it.

"We’re not here to pick a fight," he said, hands loose at his side. "Just wanted to check on something."

His eyes swept past the others—ignoring Dirga, Kaito, Rikuya—until they landed on one person.

Aizawa.

He locked eyes with him.

Dirga felt it instantly.

The shift.

The tension that had been hiding inside Aizawa since the draw... now surfaced. Quiet. Cold. Focused.

The tall boy nodded once.

"I’m Minato Haruto," he said.

The name dropped like a blade.

Every Horizon player turned—instinctual.

Aizawa didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

But Dirga saw it. That faint tightening in his jaw. That stillness that screamed louder than anything.

And then—confirmation.

The tall boy smiled slightly.

"So it’s really you," he said. "I figured. Just came to check if you were still alive, little bro."

Not a single voice moved.

Even Taiga—always quick with a joke—said nothing.

Aizawa stood there, frozen in posture... but burning behind the eyes.

And then—just like that—Minato turned.

The Wolves followed. No threats. No taunts. No arrogance.

Just a message.

The Wolves walked off.

No threats.

No warnings.

Just a silent message left hanging in the cold air.

We see you.

Their footsteps echoed down the stone path until silence returned.

Only then did anyone breathe.

Dirga turned.

Aizawa hadn’t moved.

Frozen—not in fear.

But something deeper.

Like a dam holding back a flood.

Even Taiga, usually quick with a jab, said nothing.

No jokes.

No questions.

Just stillness.

Because whatever that was...

It wasn’t surface-level.

It ran deep.

...

After training, Horizon returned to the dorms.

No one brought it up.

No one mentioned Minato Haruto.

Even Taiga—loud, wild, shameless—remained quiet, matching Aizawa’s silence like an unspoken agreement.

They showered.

Changed.

Ate.

And by the time they reached the cafeteria, Aizawa was... himself again.

Laughing too loud.

Arguing with Hiroki over spice levels.

Roasting Rei for eating with perfect manners like a rich kid.

The others let it go.

But Dirga watched closely.

He could see it.

Aizawa’s grin was just a bit too sharp.

His laughter just a bit too forced.

He was back—but he wasn’t okay.

Something inside was boiling.

And Dirga knew.

He had to fix it.

...

That night, after dinner, Horizon returned to their rooms to prepare for tomorrow.

The opening ceremony.

Their first match.

Dirga closed the door to his single-occupancy dorm.

Dropped his jacket.

Sat on the edge of his bed—

Then the System pulsed.

...

[Echo Quest Alert]

Qualify for the Knockout Round

Optional Objectives:

• Finish 1st in the Group

• Finish 2nd in the Group

• Finish 3rd in the Group

Reward:

• Skill Rank: Normal – Rare – Legendary – Mythic (based on placement)

• Attribute Boost: (+1, +2, +3, +4 based on placement)

[Accept Quest?]

[YES] [NO]

...

Dirga didn’t even hesitate.

He pressed YES.

Of course.

This was the next step.

A power-up waited at the end of this round. And he wasn’t aiming for second or third.

He was going for the top.

First place.

But even as he lay back in bed, fatigue in his muscles...

Sleep wouldn’t come.

His mind turned.

Twisted.

Looped.

Sapporo.

Minato.

Aizawa.

So finally, he got up.

Slipped into his hoodie.

Opened the door into the quiet dorm hallway.

Cool air brushed his skin.

And there—just outside under a soft white hall light—

Aizawa.

Leaning against the railing. Looking up at the Tokyo night sky.

Still in his sweatpants, hoodie half-zipped.

Dirga walked over slowly.

"You can’t sleep either?" he asked quietly.

Aizawa exhaled. "Yeah..."

Dirga leaned next to him. Silence passed. Then—

"Because of that guy?"

A pause.

Then a small nod.

"Minato," Aizawa said at last. "My... brother."

The word landed heavy.

Aizawa’s voice was lower now. Almost careful. Like stepping across thin ice.

"I used to play baseball in my first year. I switched to basketball recently... because of him."

Dirga didn’t interrupt. Just listened.

"Our family’s a mess," Aizawa continued. "We’re brothers—but not from the same mother. He’s the child from my father’s first marriage. His mom passed away. My mom came later."

A dry chuckle escaped him.

"But even though he’s not her real son... my mom always doted on him. Praised him. Loved him. Like he was perfect."

His fists clenched at his side.

"And me? I was just... there. The spare. The ’other kid.’ No matter what I did, she barely looked at me."

Dirga looked at him then—not with pity.

But understanding.

That pain...

It carved deep.

Aizawa pressed on, eyes locked on the dark sky.

"I tried everything. Studying? I beat him. Didn’t matter. He started sports? I followed. First baseball. Then one day, he switched to basketball. So I switched too."

And then his voice changed.

Steel returned.

"But this time... I’m not following. I’m not chasing. I’m fighting."

He looked at Dirga, fire in his chest.

"This time, I’m going to beat him. Not just play. Not just keep up. Beat him. On this stage. In front of the whole damn country."

Dirga nodded slowly.

"Then we’ll make it happen."

He raised a fist.

"I’ll make you shine in that game. That’s a promise."

Aizawa stared at him for a second—then smiled.

A real one.

He bumped Dirga’s fist.

"Promise, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Alright then," Aizawa said, turning back to the sky. "Let’s burn him. Burn the Wolves down."

Dirga smirked.

Because that fire?

That was the Aizawa they needed tomorrow.

And when the sun rose...

They’d light the court on fire together.