CHAPTER 135: THE COURT WHERE LEGENDS BEGIN

he night talk settled more than just tension.

Aizawa—lighter now. His fire focused. His mind clear.

Dirga could see it in the way his shoulders finally relaxed.

The weight wasn’t gone. But now it had direction.

And Dirga?

He had made a silent vow.

Tomorrow, I’ll be the maestro—and Aizawa will be my soloist.

He would guide him, pass to him, sync with him.

Not just as a teammate.

But as a conductor bringing out the best in his sound.

Aizawa would shine.

That was the promise.

And with that thought anchored deep in his chest, Dirga returned to his room.

Dropped into bed.

Closed his eyes.

Let sleep take him.

...

06:00 AM

Dirga’s eyes opened the moment the alarm buzzed.

No grogginess.

No hesitation.

Today wasn’t just another game.

It was Nationals.

The start of everything.

He rose from bed, muscles sore from yesterday’s hellish warm-up—but beneath the soreness was something sharper:

Readiness.

He cleaned up quickly. Washed his face. Brushed his teeth with cold tap water that snapped him fully awake.

Then slipped into Horizon’s travel uniform.

Black and red sports jacket. Matching sweatpants. Clean sneakers.

The colors of war.

By 07:00 AM, the Horizon team was gathered in the dormitory’s lobby.

Bags packed. Eyes sharp. Breaths steady.

Some teams had already left for the stadium.

In front of them stood Mina Asagiri, clipboard in hand, glasses catching the early lobby light. Her voice, as always, was crisp.

"Alright—Horizon High," she said, ticking boxes off her sheet. "Roll complete."

Takeshi-sensei gave a nod. "We’re good."

"Confirmed," Kaito added. Calm. Focused.

Mina turned slightly. "There’ll be an organizer waiting at the gate to escort your team inside. Don’t wander. You move as a unit. You’re not civilians today—you’re contenders."

Coach Tsugawa’s eyes scanned the group once before speaking.

"Let’s go."

And they moved.

No music.

No words.

Just footsteps echoing off concrete walls—sharp, steady, synchronizing like a march to battle.

Horizon was ready.

...

The moment they stepped into the stadium grounds, it was clear:

This wasn’t like yesterday.

The Yoyogi National Gymnasium had changed overnight.

Banners hung from the rafters. Bright, bold, ceremonial flags for each region. Cameras perched on scaffolds like hawks.

A red carpet lined the player entrance.

Volunteers in navy blazers stood in rows. Organizers with earpieces moved like clockwork.

And just inside—

The roar.

Dirga stepped into the main concourse.

And the noise hit him like a wave.

Voices.

Drums.

Cameras clicking.

Fans—thousands of them already here for the opening ceremony.

Not just families. Not just students.

Reporters.

Scouts.

University coaches.

Pro team observers.

Even in 2009, the national stage was massive.

Sayaka and Takeshi-sensei split off, handling registration and logistics with the officials.

The players, meanwhile, were guided to their designated locker room. Inside, Horizon’s uniforms were already laid out—folded neatly with precision.

Red and black with a touch of gold.

Clean. Gleaming. Regal.

Dirga ran his hand over the jersey fabric before slipping it on.

The moment it touched his skin, his heartbeat changed.

No longer just a game.

This was something greater.

The room buzzed with quiet tension as the team changed.

No jokes. No shouting. Just focus.

They waited.

Until they would be called.

...

Meanwhile—

On the main court.

The stadium lights dimmed slightly, replaced by spotlights tracing the arena’s edge.

The air practically vibrated.

A DJ booth played instrumentals—bold orchestral beats laced with taiko drums.

On the screens above the arena, the National Tournament logo flashed: a burning basketball wrapped in rising sakura petals.

The camera crews were already in place.

Multiple networks. Regional and national coverage.

This wasn’t a school event anymore.

This was a broadcast.

The court itself gleamed.

Wood polished to a mirror shine.

The national emblem—a blazing ball framed in crimson sakura petals—was etched at center court.

Above, two full rows of scouts sat in the VIP gallery. Some wore suits, others windbreakers from pro teams, but all held the same things: clipboards, tablets, and sharp eyes.

You could feel it in the air.

That buzzing tension.

That quiet electricity.

Today... legends would begin.

And Horizon High?

They were moments away from taking their first step onto sacred ground.

Then the announcer’s voice thundered through the speaker system—sharp, practiced, commanding:

"And now... let us welcome the twelve titans who will battle for glory in this year’s 2009 National High School Basketball Tournament!"

The crowd erupted—cheers, claps, camera flashes bursting like fireworks.

The parade of champions had begun.

...

"From Hokkaidō—Sapporo North Wolves High!"

A wave of cool blue swept across the tunnel.

The Wolves stepped out in frost-silver uniforms, sharp like blades of winter.

Leading them: Minato Haruto—stoic, tall, unreadable. He held the banner with calm pride, his eyes cutting across the court like a silent challenge.

...

"From Tōhoku—Sendai Seiryuu High!"

A graceful squad entered in stormy azure, their movements fluid, almost serene.

The two-year-ago champions, known for their relentless discipline and flow.

Their captain’s eyes didn’t waver.

...

"From Kantō—Tokyo Kousei Academy!"

A pause.

Then the thunder hit.

The reigning champions marched in with an aura so heavy it pressed on the crowd.

Imperial black, trimmed in gold—commanding, elegant, ruthless.

At the front: Kei Takahashi, walking like he already owned the court.

"The defending kings of last year," the announcer echoed with reverence. "Tokyo’s crown jewel—Tokyo Kousei Academy!"

...

"From Chūbu—Nagoya Raijin High!"

Electric yellow blazed across the floor, loud and fast. A team known for speed, full-court chaos, and breakneck tempo.

...

"From Chūgoku—Okayama Ironcrest High!"

Steel-gray marched with precision—like machines. Compact, tactical, unforgiving.

The Iron Wall of Chūgoku.

...

"From Shikoku—Takamatsu Wavefront High!"

Ocean teal flowed in from the left gate, their banner painted with waves.

A team of flair. Unorthodox. Deep-range threats. Chaos under control.

...

"From Kyūshū—Fukuoka Yamabane High!"

Forest green. Loud chants. Physical builds.

The power hitters from the South.

...

"From Okinawa—Naha Southern Drakes High!"

Coral-orange jerseys shimmered as the Drakes entered with a swagger unmatched.

Tricksters. Trash-talkers. Dazzling in streetball flair.

...

"From Hokuriku—Kanazawa Sekiryuu High!"

Obsidian purple—regal and cold.

The champions from three years ago.

Still coiled. Still dangerous.

...

"From Shin’etsu—Nagano Kurotsuki High!"

Moonlit white.

Silent. Ghostly.

A team built on defense and deception.

Their presence sent chills.

...

Then—

"From Kansai—Toyonaka Horizon High!"

A wave of noise surged from the Kansai supporters in the crowd.

Dirga stepped out first, the golden sun catching the shine of his Horizon jersey—black trimmed with crimson and hints of fire gold.

Behind him: Kaito, calm and composed.

Then Rikuya, unshakable.

Followed by Aizawa, Rei, Hiroki, and Taiga—each of them walking taller than ever before.

"A first-time national contender," the announcer boomed. "A rising giant. Keep your eyes on Dirgantara Renji—the young maestro leading Horizon High into history!"

Flashes burst from cameras.

The crowd buzzed with excitement and curiosity.

...

"And finally... our Wild Card entrant—Toyonaka High!"

A beat.

Then a roar.

Masaki King led the charge—shoulders broad, stride fierce, eyes lit like a forge. His black diamond skin, braided hair, and carved build stood out instantly.

Next to him, Yuto Kobayashi, steady and resolute.

Then Shunpei, Haruto, Daichi.

A team reborn.

"Two teams from Kansai this year," the announcer added with a grin. "Let’s see how deep that fire burns."

Once all twelve teams stood across the court, the lights shifted.

A spotlight hit the center podium.

Stepping up—calm, regal—was Kei Takahashi, captain of Tokyo Kousei.

"As last year’s champion," the announcer declared, "Kei Takahashi will open this year’s tournament."

Kei took the mic. His voice wasn’t loud—but it didn’t need to be.

Every word struck like a drumbeat.

"We all come from different places. Different styles. Different stories," Kei said. "But here—on this court—we speak the same language."

"Basketball."

"Let’s play with pride. With respect. And leave nothing behind."

"Good luck... to everyone who dares to win."

Applause followed.

Short. Sharp. Respectful.

The ceremony wrapped quickly after.

Some teams moved to the stands to spectate.

But Horizon?

They were led to the bench.

Because they were first.

Game One: Horizon High vs. Sapporo North Wolves

Dirga tightened his laces.

Kaito rotated his shoulder twice, silently.

Aizawa looked forward—not smiling.

Just focused.

The curtain was rising.

And the Wolves were already waiting on the opposite side of the court.

The war was about to begin.