CHAPTER 41: MOUNTAIN TRIAL : THE COURT

The clock ticked exactly to 07:30 AM.

All of us were gathered in front of the lodge, our bags slung over shoulders, sweatbands already on, legs still sore from yesterday’s climb. The cold mountain air was crisp, the fog rolling across the gravel like ghostly arms.

And that’s when we saw it.

An off-road vehicle revved to life in front of us. Behind the wheel was none other than Takeshi-sensei, sunglasses on, looking like someone’s cool mountain-dwelling uncle.

Next to him sat Coach Reina, Sayaka and Aoi, waving casually as if they weren’t about to abandon us to climb through the wilderness on foot.

"See you at the court!" Takeshi sensei shouted from the rolled-down window, sporting aviator sunglasses like a retired action hero.

The engine howled.

The tires kicked up dirt.

And they were gone.

Silence fell.

Then, Coach Tsugawa clapped his hands once.

"We’re taking the old-fashioned route. Foot. Through the mountain path."

A chorus of groans answered him.

"And," he continued with a sly grin, "first one to reach the court gets an exempt meal voucher—in case your team loses today’s scrimmages."

That got everyone’s attention.

"Exempt meal?" Masaki muttered, eyes narrowing.

No one said it, but we all understood. Yesterday’s mountain feast was legendary. Missing out on that? Unforgivable.

Everyone lined up at the start, stretching legs, cracking knuckles.

Taiga and Aizawa were bouncing on their toes. Masaki looked like a lion ready to pounce. Yuto had his usual focused glare. And beside Dirga stood Kaito, arms folded.

Dirga stayed near the back. His foot was finally healed, but the doctor’s warning still echoed in his mind. He couldn’t push too hard. Not yet. Not with the regional tournament so close.

"Don’t force it," Kaito said, glancing at Dirga’s foot. "We still need you next week."

Dirga gave a slight nod. "I’ll pace myself, Senpai."

Then Coach Tsugawa raised his arm.

"Go!"

They took off.

Aizawa took the lead with explosive strides, Taiga hot on his heels. Masaki and Yuto followed, neither willing to let Horizon show them up. Behind them, a pack of players pushed through the incline, lungs burning.

Dirga and Kaito stayed behind, jogging at a steady rhythm.

Fifteen minutes passed.

The mountain path twisted and climbed. The dirt trail was narrow and rocky, roots sticking out like traps. The air got thinner the higher we went.

And finally—Dirga saw it.

A building. Hidden between two peaks. An indoor court, somehow standing tall in the middle of nowhere. He blinked. It looked surreal.

Who the hell builds a court out here?

But it wasn’t a mirage. He picked up his pace, feet crunching over gravel.

As he finally arrived, he saw the aftermath—players sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath like fish out of water. Masaki lay against a tree. Yuto was flat on his back. Taiga groaned something unintelligible.

He scanned the room.

"Who won?" Dirga asked, wiping sweat from his brow.

No one answered.

Then, slowly, Rikuya raised his hand from the far wall.

The Buddha Titan himself.

He had apparently jogged the entire way at a monk’s pace and still finished first. His face was dripping sweat, but he was grinning faintly. Even serenity couldn’t hide satisfaction.

Coach Tsugawa entered behind us, clapping once.

"Three-minute rest, then we begin physicals!"

A wave of groans rippled through the gym.

Every Horizon player shared the same look of dread.

Coach Tsugawa’s physicals.

Even after months, no one got used to it. No matter how many times you did it—it always hurt like hell.

"Both teams—line up!"

Toyonaka grumbled, but followed orders. We lined up with them, Horizon and Toyonaka now shoulder to shoulder.

First: 10 laps around the court.

Sweat fell like rain. Breathing got heavier. The cold mountain air did little to stop the fire in our legs.

"One-minute rest!"

Then: Strength training.

Push-ups. Sit-ups. Squats. Burpees.

Then: Agility training.

Cone shuffles. Ladder drills. Defensive slides.

Always one minute break. Never enough.

"WHAT IS THIS?!" Masaki wheezed, half-collapsing near a cone.

"Welcome to our daily life," Taiga grinned. "This is normal."

Another round of torture later, Coach Tsugawa finally relented.

"Ten-minute break. Then we split. Horizon with me. Toyonaka with Coach Reina."

We dropped like arrows had shot us.

Sayaka and Aoi moved quickly, handing out towels and energy drinks. Cold towels were placed on foreheads. A few groans of "Thank you, goddess..." escaped from the bench players.

Dirga sprawled on his back, chest heaving. Across from him, Yuto gave a thumbs up.

Respect. From one general to another.

Once the break ended, we regrouped with Coach Tsugawa.

He looked at us calmly.

"I’ve noticed something," he began. "When Dirga leads, the game becomes chaos. High-risk. High-reward. Unpredictable."

He paused.

"When Kaito leads, the game becomes ordered. Calm. Disciplined. The court becomes a battlefield—and Kaito is the general."

We nodded.

Coach’s eyes swept over us.

"Both styles work. But they only work because you all adapt. Dirga can’t play chaos alone. You must read him. Move with him. Anticipate him."

He turned to Dirga.

"And you—stick to the system first. Then evolve it. Add the chaos later. Understand?"

"Yes, Coach."

We then spent the next two hours working through our plays. Defensive rotations, fast breaks, out-of-bounds drills, weak-side help, screen switches.

Sweat poured. Voices echoed. Bodies collided. But we were growing.

Another two hours passed.

Exhausted, they gathered on the sidelines again as Sayaka handed out rice balls and tea.

But they weren’t done.

Then came the real challenge.

Coach Reina stood in front of both teams.

"Now, we scrimmage."

The format? A mini-playoff.

Seven games. Each game: one quarter (10 minutes).

Each win: one point.

First to four wins.

Takeshi-sensei would be the referee.

Dirga blinked. An NBA-style series? Interesting...

The games began.

...

Game 1:

Horizon opened with Kaito at PG. His court command gave them structure. Toyonaka’s defense faltered slightly under the rhythm.

With two minutes left, Dirga subbed in at point—disrupting the tempo. The sudden switch overwhelmed Toyonaka, and Horizon took the lead.

Horizon 1 – Toyonaka 0

...

Game 2:

Dirga led from the start. His chaotic style was met with early resistance, but Toyonaka began to adapt. Their defense adjusted to the unpredictable passes. Despite a close game, Toyonaka eked out the win.

Horizon 1 – Toyonaka 1

...

Game 3:

Dirga led again, but fatigue showed. Kaito subbed in at the six-minute mark, but Toyonaka had already taken momentum. Masaki dominated the boards. Haruto blocked everything.

Horizon 1 – Toyonaka 2

...

Game 4:

A reversed approach. Dirga started, creating fast plays, stretching the lead. Kaito entered in the seventh minute, stabilizing things.

The combination worked. Horizon bounced back.

Horizon 2 – Toyonaka 2

...

Game 5:

Kaito took full control early on. Horizon dominated the rhythm. But when he subbed out at minute three, Dirga entered, maintaining the energy with unexpected passes and cuts.

A buzzer-beater from Rei sealed it.

Horizon 3 – Toyonaka 2

...

Game 6:

Dirga led again, but Toyonaka countered. Masaki ramped up pressure. Haruto controlled the paint. The game tilted toward Toyonaka... until Kaito entered—not as PG, but as SG. Dirga kept running the point.

The two played in sync—Kaito as Dirga’s anchor, Dirga as the chaotic spark.

They won.

Horizon 4 – Toyonaka 2

...

The final whistle blew.

Horizon had taken the set.

Players collapsed. Not from defeat or victory—but from exhaustion.

Masaki sat on the floor, sweat dripping from his chin.

"Well... you guys really are crazy," he muttered.

Taiga dropped beside him. "We just want to eat."

Laughter echoed through the court.

Sayaka and Aoi entered with towels and drinks.

As Dirga lay on his back, chest rising and falling, he looked up at the ceiling of the old wooden court. Through a crack in the roof, a single beam of sunlight pierced through, bathing the floor.

He smiled.