CHAPTER 37: THE NEXT STEP

The day after the date was surprisingly... normal.

Dirga limped through school on crutches, drawing curious stares from classmates, but his mind wasn’t on his foot.

It was on her.

Ayaka.

That one, blissful date had short-circuited his entire brain. Not because it was fancy or dramatic—no, it was because it felt real. The world hadn’t changed, but he had. They still hadn’t gone on that second date, though. Ever since that afternoon, Ayaka had been busier than ever with student council duties. Meetings, announcements, event prep. He’d catch glimpses of her across the hallway, trading subtle nods or half-smiles.

A quiet promise lingered between them: We’ll go again.

Still, his head was filled with questions.

What will we talk about next time? Where should we go? Should I bring flowers? Are we already dating? Wait, I’m mentally thirty—but she’s a teen. Am I committing a crime? Or does it not count because my body is young too?

"ARRRGHHH." Dirga groaned, his thoughts spiraling.

"Dirga?" his homeroom teacher called. "Is your foot acting up again?"

"Ah—uh—yes, sensei. Just a little flare-up," Dirga lied, forcing a sheepish smile.

He definitely couldn’t tell the teacher he was spiraling over age-gap philosophy and quantum ethics.

The rest of the school day crawled. Each tick of the clock felt like a free-throw drill in slow motion. Eternity, one second at a time.

But once the final bell rang—

CLANG!

Dirga practically flew out of his seat—even on crutches. He ignored Taiga’s voice calling after him, locked in on a singular goal: basketball club.

The gym was already alive when he arrived. The sound of sneakers squeaking, balls bouncing, and his teammates yelling was music to his ears.

"Yo, Dirga!" Taiga waved. "How’s the foot?"

"It’s healing," Dirga replied. "Doctor said one week of light activity, two weeks for full recovery."

"Ohh, that means you’ll be ready before Regionals," Kaito’s voice came from behind.

Dirga turned to see him—color returned to his face, his usual grin back in place.

"You’re okay?" Dirga asked, genuinely relieved.

"Don’t underestimate me," Kaito said proudly, flexing his arms. "I’m tougher than I look."

"Hey! Look at my muscles too!" Aizawa joined the flex-off.

Rikuya quietly raised his sleeves and flexed his arm with a straight face.

Rei and Hiroki watched in disbelief.

"Disgusting," Rei muttered.

"This club is weird..." Hiroki added.

Before the testosterone-fueled display could escalate, Sayaka walked in—clipboard in hand and eyes like laser beams.

"What are you guys doing?" she asked in that deceptively soft tone that struck fear into their hearts.

Every player froze.

"You’d better get serious now. No slacking," she said, her smile hiding impending death.

Dirga chuckled. So that’s what they mean by ’Godzilla in a ponytail.’ Ayaka might be cute, but her twin was terrifying when she switched into manager mode.

Once they changed and lined up at midcourt, Coach Tsugawa stepped in front of the whiteboard, Sayaka beside him.

"Alright, listen up!" Coach barked. "Sayaka, start the briefing."

Sayaka nodded and stepped forward with a serious expression.

"Since Horizon High advanced to the Kansai Regional Tournament, we have only three weeks to prepare," she began. "Unlike before, only one team qualifies for Nationals. It’s do or die now. There is no second chance."

A heavy silence fell.

Kaito clenched his fists. "Then we’ll win. No matter what."

Sayaka continued, "And this time, forget the Four Monarchs. There’s only One King in this region—Heian Gakuen. They’ve won Regionals five years in a row."

The weight of her words sank in. Heian Gakuen wasn’t just a powerhouse—they were the

powerhouse.

"We still don’t have the bracket," she said, "but this is your wake-up call. Train like champions—or die like cowards."

"Alright," Coach Tsugawa clapped once. "We’re starting with physical drills today. Dirga, you’re benched for now. Focus on healing."

Dirga nodded. "Understood."

"Everyone else—on the baseline! Go!"

As his teammates groaned and sprinted toward their punishment, Dirga watched from the sidelines. Sweat began to pour. Grunts echoed in the gym. Bodies dropped mid-drill.

He sighed. I don’t know whether to be grateful or jealous...

Ten minutes in, Sayaka approached him.

"Getting bored, aren’t you?"

"Uh... maybe a little." Dirga admitted.

"Then follow me. I’ll show you something."

Dirga blinked. "What, like secret training?"

"Kind of."

She led him through the school’s back hallway to a room Dirga had never noticed before.

The Video Room.

Inside was a fully-equipped archive: old CRT screens, VCRs, even DVDs and tapes. It looked like a 2000s-era coaching room.

"Wait, where did all this come from?" Dirga asked, astonished.

"We received funding from the school after our Spring Tournament performance," Sayaka explained. "Takeshi-sensei helped set this up during your recovery."

"Damn... this is cool."

"You’ll be using it a lot," Sayaka said. "Let me show you how to operate it."

Together, they went over how to sort tapes, use the tracking knobs, and fast-forward in key plays. By the time Sayaka left, Dirga was already immersed.

Old footage. NBA games. Japanese high school rivalries. Even a few rare tapes of Heian Gakuen matches.

As he watched, his mind locked in.

Spacing. Tempo. Defensive reads. Play-calling rhythms...

This was another kind of training. Mental. Strategic. If he couldn’t run now, he could read.

Suddenly—

[System Quest Alert]

Watch basketball footage for 14 days (minimum 120 minutes/day)

Reward: Skill – Tempo Sight

[Accept Quest?]

[Yes] [No]

Dirga smirked.

"Of course."

He clicked yes.

[Injury Reducer already administered post-Spring Tournament game. You avoided a career-ending ankle injury, Host.]

[Please remember—resources are limited. Heal wisely.]

— Echo

Dirga let out a low whistle.

That was close. Too close.

Without that injury reducer, he could’ve lost his future... again.

And so began Dirga’s new routine.

While the others bled on the court, he dissected tapes in the shadows. Hours spent watching spacing, reading eye movements, studying timing and hesitation moves.

It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t loud.

But it was building something dangerous.

A weapon that didn’t rely on speed or strength.

It relied on rhythm.

And Dirga was becoming its conductor.