CHAPTER 52: MOUNTAIN TRIAL : THE LAST DAY 3

Pride? Bragging rights? Camaraderie?

Those were the stakes hanging heavy in the air like a storm about to break.

The gym smelled of sweat and polished wood. The heat from the afternoon sun streamed weakly through high windows, mixing with the sharp tang of exertion and anticipation. Sweat still clung to their skin, cooling slowly in the stagnant air as the teams gathered midcourt. The tension was palpable, thick enough to taste — a blend of nerves, excitement, and unspoken challenges.

Heartbeats thundered in chests. Eyes glinted like sharpened blades, burning with focus. Coach Tsugawa stood at the center, the whistle around his neck swinging lightly like a battle emblem. His gaze swept across the gathered players, calm yet commanding, as if silently measuring the weight of what was to come.

Coach Reina and Takeshi-sensei leaned casually nearby, their presence steady and reassuring amidst the crackling energy.

"Alright," Tsugawa said, flicking a coin into the air and catching it with a practiced hand. "Next up — Team 1 versus Team 2."

The coin’s silver flash was like a signal flare, igniting a ripple of electric energy that pulsed through the gym. A collective breath seemed to catch as every player, coach, and spectator held a moment of suspended time.

Dirga’s eyes locked on his team — Buzz, Masaki, Taiga, Haruto Senda, and himself. A potent fusion of raw talent, muscle, and unpredictable chaos, each member a spark ready to ignite the court.

But standing across the line was no easy task. Team 2 was a fortress of precision. Kaito and Yuto stood as floor generals, eyes sharp and calculating. Renjiro was a lethal long-range threat, Masaru a rock-solid anchor in the paint, and Aizawa and Rei flanked the wings with lethal versatility.

This wasn’t just a match. This was war — a battle between fire and order, instinct and discipline. Between chaos and control.

Every gaze in the gym locked onto the court with electric anticipation. Everyone knew: this game would matter.

...

Game Start — Team 1 vs Team 2

Sweat glistened on Dirga’s forehead as he bounced the ball with steady rhythm, the leather thudding against polished wood like a heartbeat. One tap. Two taps. Then, he moved — weaving through the court like a dancer stepping through chaos.

Masaru stood in the paint like an immovable monolith. Towering and unyielding, he was a wall without cracks. With no longer a three-jump restriction, the post was locked down. No one could penetrate, no one could contest the rebounds he snatched like a magnet drawing metal.

Dirga adjusted instantly.

He danced around the top of the key, orchestrating the offense like a maestro conducting a storm. Leading the defense left, firing a no-look pass right, faking baseline before dishing midair to Taiga for a reverse layup.

But still, the paint remained sealed. Masaru was a gravitational force, pulling in every rebound. Haruto Senda struggled to match his pace, the defensive tempo erupting into chaotic bursts.

Dirga stopped forcing the issue.

His eyes scanned the court like a seasoned general surveying the battlefield. Every subtle shift from Masaru sent ripples through their defense — patterns emerging in the chaos.

If we can’t break the wall, then we’ll build around it.

Buzz and Masaki became their cannons, the sharp shooters breaking the tension.

Dirga read their tendencies like a living map, slipping passes into their shooting pockets with surgical timing. Buzz pulled up for a smooth mid-range fadeaway; on the very next play, Masaki sliced through the lane with a euro-step floater that seemed to defy gravity.

It was beautiful chaos.

The court erupted into a fireworks show — bang, swish, bang.

But Team 2 wasn’t passive.

Midway through, Kaito checked in.

He took control immediately.

Even though this was his first time playing alongside some of these teammates, his passes were surgical, cutting through defenses with cold precision. He fed Aizawa on a backdoor cut, set up Renjiro for a clean three-pointer, baited a double-team before lobbing a thunderous pass to Masaru, who slammed it home with raw power.

The game became a battle of philosophies — Dirga’s adaptive flow against Kaito’s precise control.

And Dirga danced between them, never dominating the ball but always making the right read when it counted most.

Masaki and Buzz found their rhythm — now scoring machines. Taiga did the hard work, chasing rebounds, locking down help defense, rotating with explosive speed.

The gym pulsed with life. The squeak of sneakers, sharp shouts of encouragement, the heavy thud of ball against wood — all merging into a living symphony. Sweat flew, muscles burned, tension rose like steam from a kettle ready to boil over.

Coaches leaned forward, teammates yelled encouragement, even Ayaka and Sayaka paused their towel duty, caught in the storm.

Despite Kaito’s late push, the cannonfire was overwhelming.

Final score: Team 1 wins.

"BOOM! Let’s goooo!" Buzz shouted, fists pumping like thunderclaps.

Masaki raised both arms, a fierce grin breaking across his face. "That’s how we do it!"

Dirga, breathing hard, grinned wide. "That... was fun."

...

The Final Match — Team 2 vs Team 3

One point each.

Everything came down to this.

Team 3 stepped onto the court with calm confidence. Smooth, strategic, composed — led by Sota Enami, a tactician whose presence alone seemed to slow time. Rikuya Asano, Yu Tamura, Daichi Fukuda, Hiroki, and Shunpei formed a tight, flexible core that moved with seamless precision.

Sota smiled softly as he took the floor. "Let’s make it clean."

Kaito glanced at Yuto and nodded, eyes sharp. "Let’s win this."

The gym fell silent. Even the fans on the walls seemed to pause mid-rotation.

The whistle blew.

Immediately, it became a clash of titans.

Masaru and Rikuya met in the post, old-school style. Hook shots, body bumps, spins, counters — every move a battle of strength and skill. The court creaked beneath their footwork, each possession heavy with the weight of giants clashing.

Dirga watched from the sideline, whispering to himself, "This is beautiful."

Sota didn’t waste a single motion. Plays unfolded like a symphony — a glance here, a nod there, a subtle shift of footwork signaling the next move. The team flowed in perfect harmony.

Yu was a machine of fundamentals — screens, cuts, passes — everything timed to perfection, free from any restriction.

But Team 2 didn’t flinch.

Kaito used Masaru’s gravity to pull defenders in, then kicked out to Renjiro, who slashed through the defense with eerie smoothness and finished with flawless finesse. Rei nailed a three from the corner. Aizawa kept the ball moving like clockwork.

Both benches leaned forward, breaths held tight. No one spoke, no one blinked. Even the coaches exchanged nods of respect, recognizing the artistry on display.

The game was fast. Tight. Possession after possession, the score barely shifted. No one could pull away.

It was a chess match wrapped in fire.

Then, in the final minute, Team 2 struck gold.

Renjiro curled around a screen, received a handoff from Kaito, and sank a clutch three-pointer that set the bench roaring.

Team 2 wins.

The gym erupted in thunderous applause.

One point each. A three-way draw.

Everyone turned toward the coaches, expecting sudden death. Maybe a tiebreaker?

Coach Takeshi stepped forward, raising a hand for silence.

"Well, we could keep going," he said, glancing around at the tired but exhilarated faces, "but this is the last day. You’ve all played your hearts out, and we think you deserve something else."

He clapped once sharply.

"No one eats gray food today!"

"WOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Taiga screamed.

Cheers exploded through the gym like a release valve.

Aoi and Sayaka emerged, water bottles and towels in hand, passing them out like heroes delivering salvation. Smiles bloomed like sunflowers across every face. Even Sota, usually composed, looked visibly relieved.

The air grew lighter. Brighter.

The weight of competition gave way to celebration.

This camp was ending on a high note.