CHAPTER 68: HORIZON VS RAKUZAN : NO PLACE FOR THE WEAK 1

The scoreboard still reads 2–2, but it’s meaningless now.

This isn’t a contest of points.

It’s a war of nerves, of ego, of control.

And the first cracks are already forming.

Rakuzan doesn’t slow down—not for a second.

As soon as the ball is inbounded, they charge in transition, like a wave set to crash.

Tsukasa takes the outlet and launches a laser pass cross-court—long, clean, deadly.

Reiji’s already there, like he knew it before it left Tsukasa’s hands.

But he’s not alone.

Asahi is already curling into the wing beside him, like a second shadow.

And right behind—Taiga and Aizawa—locked in, eyes sharp, ready to cut them off.

But Rakuzan doesn’t flinch.

They flow.

Reiji catches. Drops it to Asahi. The two of them slide into a pick-and-roll so smooth it’s like the ball vanishes between their hands.

The court gasps.

Reiji peels off the screen, snaking baseline.

Asahi pivots, body shielding, timing perfect.

He threads the pass.

Reiji catches on the move.

He’s at the rim.

Taiga rises to meet him—full extension, body squared.

For a split-second, it’s war in the air.

But Reiji doesn’t force it.

He freezes, then leans back mid-jump, rising with a sudden stop-and-pop jumper—clean, composed, cruel.

Swish.

2–4.

The Rakuzan bench erupts.

Reiji backpedals slowly, eyes locked on the Horizon bench—not with fire, but with cold mockery.

Then he smirks.

Blows a kiss.

And drops his hand low—just above the court—like he’s patting the floor.

"Too early," the gesture says.

"You’re still beneath me."

Directed right at Taiga. And Aizawa.

No words.

He doesn’t need them.

Reiji Kaname doesn’t just play the game.

He performs the humiliation.

t wasn’t just trash talk—it was a declaration of war.

Aizawa’s jaw clenched. Taiga’s shoulders tensed. You could feel the heat radiating from both of them. Their aura was shifting—bending with fury.

If eyes could kill, Reiji would already be six feet under.

Dirga stepped in fast, like ice meeting flame.

"Stop. Don’t get pulled into it," he said firmly, looking from Aizawa to Taiga.

"Remember our strategy. If you really want to shut him up—do it with skill. Make him feel it with plays he can’t answer."

Aizawa exhaled, his clenched fists loosening.

"Yeah... you’re right, Dirga-kun." His tone steadied.

Taiga gave a small bow, his voice low but boiling.

"Yeshh."

Dirga took the inbounds.

Ball in hand.

Eyes scanning.

Where to break them?

Where’s the crack in Rakuzan’s armor?

He took a second. Not long. Just enough.

Then his gaze locked with Rikuya’s across the paint.

A nod.

And Rikuya’s expression answered, sharp and ready—

Bring it on.

Dirga dribbled up with Tsukasa pressing him close—too close. This wasn’t just defense. It was an invitation to chaos.

He could feel it. Tsukasa wanted to provoke something.

But Dirga had no time for games. Not this early. Not here.

He called the play.

Taiga set a hard screen at the top, rattling Tsukasa’s shoulder. Just enough to throw timing off.

Motion peeled across the court.

Aizawa cut weak side. Rei flared to the wing. Rakuzan’s eyes scattered for just one breath too long—

That was all Dirga needed.

He looked off to Rei—sold it—and fired a no-look bullet pass inside.

Rikuya caught it mid-step, like the ball had magnetized to his palms.

The paint exploded into bodies.

Kido and Araki were already waiting, arms up, hips low.

They weren’t guarding Rikuya.

They were bracing for him.

But Rikuya didn’t flinch.

He lowered his shoulder, carved out space, and went into his post move—

—a tight, vicious hook over both defenders.

Then it hit.

Araki leaned into him from the side, hip-checking like a bouncer at a bar.

Kido crashed into his chest, throwing a forearm low—not quite legal.

Together, they tried to smother him, hoping the foul would disappear into the chaos.

But Rikuya was unshaken.

The hook went in. Clean.

4 – 4.

The Horizon bench roared.

But on the sideline, Coach Tsugawa was already on his feet.

"Ref! That’s a foul! That’s an AND-ONE!"

He pointed, voice booming across the hardwood.

But the ref... waved it off.

No call. No whistle. Just the ball dropped back into play.

Rikuya jogged back with murder in his eyes.

But that was the trap.

Because Reiji Kaname was watching.

He wasn’t looking for Rikuya’s anger. He was inviting it.

The moment Rikuya crossed halfcourt, Reiji drifted up to the corner—not to shoot, but to whisper. His voice low, taunting.

"Nice bucket, big guy. Shame it’s the only clean one you’ll get all game."

Rikuya didn’t react. But his jaw clenched.

Then Rakuzan moved.

The play wasn’t flashy. In fact, it started slow—deliberately slow. They lulled Horizon into thinking the pace was shifting.

But it wasn’t.

It was a setup.

Tsukasa took the ball up with a casual dribble. A decoy flare screen on the right. Nothing urgent. The defenders relaxed a fraction.

Then the trap sprung.

Asahi snapped into motion.

He darted up from the corner, set a sudden pin screen for Reiji, then slipped backdoor hard.

Taiga switched late.

Reiji flared out—Taiga stuck with him.

But Asahi?

Asahi had already caught the inbound, cutting right into the paint.

Rikuya rotated late. He had to help.

Asahi knew that.

He rose—then faked the shot mid-air, tucking the ball under as Rikuya soared.

And just before landing, **Asahi flailed his arms up—**a deliberate, practiced move. His shoulder bumped Rikuya’s hip, just enough.

He hit the floor hard.

Whistle.

Foul on Rikuya.

The crowd howled.

Coach Tsugawa exploded off the bench again. "What?! He flopped! You saw that—he FLOPPED!"

But the ref already had the book out.

First foul on Rikuya.

And Reiji?

Reiji was smirking the entire time.

Taiga stepped in to box out for the free throw.

But Reiji brushed past him—"You boys really thought this was just basketball?"

Taiga turned sharply—too sharply.

The two collided.

Whistle.

Off-ball foul.

First foul on Taiga.

Taiga’s eyes widened. "What?! He walked into me!"

Dirga come and stop taiga

" Remember our strategy"