CHAPTER 34: HORIZON VS TOYONAKA 4: MAESTRO’S LAST NOTE

Score: Horizon 60 – Toyonaka 58

Start of Fourth Quarter

The crowd’s roar wasn’t just sound—it was pressure. A wave crashing over me every second. My vision blurred. My jersey clung like a second skin. My breath came in short, shallow bursts.

I had played every minute.

Every. Damn. Minute.

And yet... here we were. One quarter from glory. One quarter from heartbreak.

I glanced at the scoreboard—60 to 58—and forced my tired hands to grip the ball tighter. Across the court, Toyonaka’s huddle looked focused. Masaki King, towel around his neck, grinned like a lion in a den of prey. Haruto Senda fist-bumped him. Their bodies didn’t look tired—they looked built for this.

Meanwhile, I could barely stand.

Coach Tsugawa crouched beside me. "You good?"

"No," I replied, my throat dry. "But I’m not done."

He smirked. "Then we’ll play you ’til you drop."

The whistle blew.

Fourth quarter. Final round.

Possession: Toyonaka.

They moved like a machine—screens, cuts, passes. All in one rhythm. Yuto Kobayashi controlled it all like a maestro, his A+ court vision slicing through us.

Then it came—

A lob to Masaki.

He rose, higher than anyone, and dunked with both hands like he was slamming the entire gym into silence.

60–60.

I caught the inbound. My legs felt like anchors. My heel throbbed—hot, sharp pain flashing with every step.

But I had to move.

Had to run the show.

I called the set.

Rei flared out, caught the ball. I looped around the screen. The defense collapsed.

Back pass.

Taiga. Elbow jumper.

62–60.

The Horizon crowd roared.

"DIR-GA! DIR-GA!"

But I felt like I was walking on broken glass.

And then the next possession—Masaki again. Isolation. Pump fake. Drive. Contact.

Foul.

Swish. Swish.

62–62.

That’s when it hit—like a lightning bolt up my leg. A burning pain in my heel. I stumbled for a split second, hiding it from the refs, from my teammates. I masked the limp as a slow jog.

Shit.

Not now. Not like this.

Coach noticed. "You okay?"

I didn’t answer. Just waved it off.

Then... a stir from the bench.

Gasps echoed from behind me.

I turned.

Kaito.

Fully suited. Jersey tucked. Sweatband on. And his heart—not even cleared to play.

He walked calmly toward Coach and me.

"What the hell..." Taiga whispered.

"I just need two minutes," Kaito said to Coach. "Let Dirga breathe."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "You’re not supposed to—"

"I’m not here to die," Kaito smiled. "I’m here to help."

Coach looked torn.

But in the end, he nodded.

I passed him the ball.

"Don’t screw it up."

"Never."

For the next two minutes, Kaito held the team together.

He didn’t flash. He flowed. He hit Rei for a three. Found Taiga on a cut. Even drew a charge on Haruto that made the entire bench erupt.

68–66. Horizon.

I sat. Watching. Humbled.

He was willing to risk his heart for us.

And here I was, hesitating to use my system for fear of injury.

That ends now.

[Echo. Activate Maestro’s Pulse.]

[Boosting team rhythm. Court synergy increased.]

[Flow Available.]

[Activate Flow?]

[Flow Activated. Boost: +200%. Duration: 4 minutes.]

My body surged. The pain dulled beneath the tide of adrenaline.

I stood.

Coach nodded. "Go finish it."

I subbed in—PG. Kaito stayed at SG.

Together—we danced.

For the next three minutes, we were unstoppable.

Dirga to Kaito—drive, dish to Taiga.

Kaito to Rei—corner three.

Dirga no-look to Aizawa—slam dunk.

The gym was shaking.

Score: 76–75. Horizon.

But Masaki wouldn’t die quietly.

He hit a turnaround fadeaway.

76–77.

Then a double screen. Hand-off from Yuto. Deep three.

76–80.

The crowd erupted.

Coach Tsugawa called timeout.

Kaito collapsed onto the bench, chest rising unevenly.

"You okay?" I asked.

He smiled, pale and shaky. "Go win it."

We subbed Hiroki in for him.

Final Minute.

Hiroki hit a three from the corner.

79–80.

Toyonaka missed.

Rebound. Horizon ball.

20 seconds. One possession.

No timeouts.

I held the ball near half court. Masaki stepped up.

One last duel.

I could see it—he was tired too. His footwork slower. His posture more upright. But his stare... sharp as ever.

I dribbled left.

He bit.

I crossed right.

Pain flared.

But Flow masked it.

I attacked the lane.

Rikuya screamed my name.

I rose.

[Flow Deactivating... 3... 2... 1...]

Mid-air.

It vanished.

The pain hit like thunder.

My heel screamed.

But I had already jumped. Already released the shot.

Buzzer.

The gym froze.

The ball sailed...

Bounced off the backboard.

Hit the rim.

Rolled.

And—

Clanked out.

Final: Toyonaka 80 – Horizon 79.

We lost.

I crashed to the floor.

Not from the pain.

Not entirely.

From the weight.

Of losing.

Kaito sprinted toward me.

So did Rei. Taiga. Rikuya.

"Dirga? DIRGA!"

I couldn’t even speak. I just clutched my foot.

The medics rushed in. I was lifted off the court, surrounded by trainers, coaches, and shadows.

In the clinic.

My foot was wrapped. Diagnosed with an inflamed Achilles. Nothing permanent—but weeks of rest.

I stared at the ceiling, blinking back tears.

We made it so far.

So far.

We were the dark horses.

The team no one expected.

And we lost... by one.

Coach Tsugawa walked in.

He didn’t speak.

Just patted my shoulder.

"You played your heart out."

Rei, Taiga, and Rikuya followed.

Kaito entered last. Pale. But standing.

"I told you," he grinned. "No regrets."

And for the first time, I allowed myself to smile.