CHAPTER 92: HORIZON VS SEIRYUU : DOWNLOAD COMPLETE 3

Coach Tsugawa added, voice low but firm—

"Time to conduct."

...

The substitution felt like a pressure valve being turned.

Dirga stepped back onto the court.

Not just as a point guard—

But as a signal.

A change in frequency.

The other players stayed in their positions:

Rei at the two.

Aizawa at small forward.

Taiga in the four.

Rikuya anchoring the paint.

But all eyes shifted to him.

The Maestro had returned.

Dirga didn’t waste time.

He didn’t look at the bench.

Didn’t call a play.

Didn’t raise a finger.

Because right now?

He wasn’t thinking.

He was feeling.

He let his instincts guide him.

The ball touched his hands—

And he was already moving.

A blur of motion. A ghost threading through the seams.

He attacked the lane.

No hesitation.

No plan.

Just rhythm, raw and unscripted.

But Seiryuu?

They weren’t the same team from the first half.

They didn’t just have data on Horizon’s tactics anymore.

They had Dirga’s patterns.

How he dribbled under pressure.

How he changed speeds.

When he liked to hesitate.

Where he planted for floaters, how his shoulder dipped on layups, the angle of his wrist when he launched from the elbow.

Every move. Tracked. Labeled. Studied.

And Teshima?

He was waiting.

He didn’t chase.

He anticipated.

Every crossover met with a slide.

Every jab step met with discipline.

Dirga tried to shake him—spin, fake, stutter-step—but it was like dancing with a mirror.

And then—he forced it.

A fading jumper with no space, no rhythm.

Clank.

A miss.

But while Seiryuu smothered Dirga...

They forgot the rest.

Taiga dove into the paint like a missile, pulling Fujisawa off balance.

Rikuya crashed from the weak side, hips low, feet wide.

Tip-in.

56–45.

A second chance bucket. Ugly. Scrappy.

But it counted.

And for now, that was enough.

Dirga backpedaled slowly.

His breath heavy, shoulders tight.

He could feel it now.

This wasn’t going to be a duel.

It was going to be a grind.

Because Teshima wasn’t just defending him—

He was executing a program.

The game resumed, but the rhythm felt... distorted.

Every movement Dirga made was one step too late.

One step too early.

One step too obvious.

Seiryuu had rewritten the tempo.

Seta curled around a double screen.

Dirga tried to fight through, but Seta was already airborne.

Mid-range jumper.

Splash.

56–47.

Dirga didn’t wait.

He danced forward, trying to weave in from the top—ankle fake, shoulder dip—

But Teshima mirrored him like his shadow was coding his future.

Even when Dirga finally got by him—finally turned the corner—Seta was already rotating from the weak side, closing the paint.

No angle.

No pass.

No shot.

Dirga kicked it out to Taiga—who launched a forced three—

Clang.

Rikuya couldn’t grab the board.

Fujiwara did.

And Seiryuu ran.

It was terrifying to watch—not because they were fast, but because they were prepared.

Jinbo and Mikami didn’t just fill lanes—

They filled the correct lanes, every time.

Fujiwara rifled the ball upcourt—

Layup.

56–49.

The twenty-point lead was now seven.

Dirga brought the ball up slower this time.

He wiped sweat from his brow.

Looked at Coach Tsugawa.

No clipboard. No playcall. Just a silent nod of trust.

So Dirga drove again.

But this time, he spun mid-lane.

And just before Seta could rotate—

Behind-the-back pass to Rikuya.

A flash of blue and white.

Slam.

58–49.

It didn’t matter.

Next play, Teshima used a stagger screen, baited the switch, stepped into an open three—

Bang.

58–52.

Then a defensive stop.

Then another corner bucket from Seta.

58–55.

1:30 remaining in the third quarter.

The lead was thin.

The game was tilting.

And Dirga could feel the pressure squeezing his ribs.

He couldn’t afford to waste this.

[Echo Active: Tempo Sight – GODFRAME]

[Duration Remaining: 0:45]

The moment his vision snapped into the digital overlay, the world blurred at the edges.

Colors sharpened.

Time slowed.

Noise dimmed.

Everything became lines and light and motion arcs.

Like standing inside a living playbook that only he could read.

He wasn’t just in the game now—

He was orchestrating it from inside the code.

Dirga let the ball roll up the court to save seconds.

Teshima waited—stoic, still, reading.

But Dirga didn’t attack yet.

He waited for Teshima’s foot to twitch.

The moment came—

Snap.

Dirga exploded off the bounce, cross-jabbed left, and slid past the first hedge.

Mikami rotated. Too late.

Dirga no-look dumped it to Rikuya, but it was a fake—

Ball was never there.

Dirga yanked it back, sidestepped, rose mid-air—

Float.

Swish.

60 – 55.

Seiryuu possession.

Dirga, still locked in Godframe, drifted across the court like a phantom.

He watched the prediction threads tighten—

Teshima’s elbow flared too early.

Crossover coming.

Dirga jumped the lane—nearly stole it. Just a fingertip shy.

Teshima adjusted mid-dribble and flared it to Jinbo on the wing.

Three.

Bang.

60 – 58.

:52 seconds remaining.

Dirga turned to the bench. His breath was heavier now.

But it wasn’t done yet.

He motioned for the next set—except he didn’t say a word.

Everyone just moved.

Like notes in a measure.

Rikuya at the top, screen left.

Taiga ghost cut, then flared baseline.

Kaito slipped behind, trailing Dirga like a satellite.

Seta shifted too late.

Dirga drove.

And right before he crossed the free throw line, he paused.

Split-second freeze.

Seta’s momentum carried wide.

Dirga spun—tight and violent—jumped—

One-handed feed over the shoulder to Kaito.

Layup.

62 – 58.

Clock: :21 seconds.

Dirga wiped sweat from his forehead.

[Godframe: 0:06 Remaining]

Seiryuu came back quickly.

Teshima pressed.

Passed off.

Jinbo again.

Dirga saw the line.

He rotated to help.

Jinbo hesitated—

Then kicked to Mikami, corner three.

Open.

Splash.

62 – 61.

Last possession.

Dirga had 6 seconds to use the last flickers of Godframe.

He crossed halfcourt.

No call. No plan.

Just instinct in high resolution.

Teshima pressed too close.

Dirga spun again—then stopped.

Pulled back.

Three.

Contested.

Release.

Buzzer.

Backboard – Rim – Bounce – Drop.

65 – 61.

End of the third quarter.

Dirga exhaled, staggering slightly as the glow of the Godframe flickered away.

It wasn’t enough to break Seiryuu.

But it was enough to stay ahead.

Just by four.

And the fourth?

Would be war.