CHAPTER 97: THE OPPONENT ?

After the interview, Dirga made his way back toward the locker room. His steps were slow—not from pain, but from the weight of the day. His body was spent, but the warmth building in his chest pushed him forward.

As he pushed open the door, a wave of laughter burst out to greet him.

Inside, the whole team was already there—Sayaka was giving instructions near the whiteboard like a seasoned commander, Coach Tsugawa leaned back in the corner with his arms crossed, Takeshi-sensei sat on a stool drinking from a vending machine bottle, and—somehow—Ayaka was here too, standing off to the side, watching with wide eyes.

"Ohhh~! Our star has arrived! Dirga-kun~," Aizawa teased the moment he spotted him, grinning ear to ear, deliberately dragging out the honorific with a smug face.

"Please stop, Aizawa-senpai," Dirga groaned, his expression twisted in exhaustion and embarrassment.

"Dirga-kunnn!" Taiga chimed in from behind, practically jumping onto him with exaggerated joy. One joker was bad enough—two was a crisis.

Their voices triggered a ripple of laughter across the room. It wasn’t loud, but it was bright. Joyful. The kind of laughter that only comes when the weight of pressure is—at least for a moment—lifted.

The atmosphere was golden. A locker room that had seen battles now pulsed with calm and warmth.

Sayaka stepped forward with a clipboard in hand, ever the professional despite the chaos around her. "We’ve got the Toyonaka match later this afternoon," she said clearly. "Until then, it’s free time. We’ll rest, eat, and be ready to scout."

"Rest here for about an hour. Takeshi-sensei and I will grab food for everyone," she added, glancing toward the teacher who gave a small wave.

"Thank youuu, Manager~!" the team chimed in unison, some teasing, some genuine, all grateful.

Ayaka, who’d been quietly watching, blinked in surprise at her little sister—who now commanded the room like a general. Her usual timidness had vanished.

"Let me help, Sayaka," Ayaka offered.

"Yes, onee-san," Sayaka replied with a rare confident smile.

With that, the locker room gradually quieted. Players slumped onto benches, rested against walls, or laid flat on the floor. Exhaustion caught up to them—stacked from the back-to-back matches, it hit like a blanket of gravity.

Sleep came quickly.

And as breaths evened out and chatter died, Horizon High—warriors for now at peace—found their moment of stillness.

The final match would come in a week.

But for now... they rested.

...

Forty-five minutes passed.

Most of the Horizon team had already begun to stir awake. The fatigue hadn’t vanished—but the short nap had done its job, like a patch on a cracked wall. Just enough to hold the weight a little longer.

Sayaka and Ayaka were already busy, quietly preparing food by the far bench. The scent of rice balls and warm miso soup clung to the air, comforting and home-like even inside this dim, sweat-slick locker room.

Dirga stood, stretching his arms with a grunt. His body still ached, but the fog in his head was starting to lift. He grabbed a bottle of water, splashed some across his face at the sink, and exhaled deeply.

"Here," Ayaka said, handing him a boxed meal.

"You were cool out there," she added with a teasing glint in her eyes. "But you better watch out—some girls might start getting ideas."

Dirga blinked. The drowsiness disappeared instantly, replaced by wide-eyed confusion. "What...?"

Ayaka smirked. "Kidding. But seriously—stay sharp."

"Yes, ma’am," Dirga muttered, still flustered as he accepted the food.

One by one, the others woke up, stretching and yawning as they lined up to splash cold water on their faces and grab their meals. It wasn’t a feast, but it was warm, filling, and enough to recharge their bodies.

They sat on benches, quietly eating together, some joking between bites, others just soaking in the silence.

"Okay," Coach Tsugawa said, rising with a clap. "Once we’re done eating, we clean up the place and head out."

Horizon moved like a machine—brooms sweeping, wrappers collected, water bottles capped and trashed. In fifteen minutes, the locker room was spotless again. No trace left behind. Just the faint echo of laughter, and the lingering heat of competition.

As they stepped out into the hallway—

"You’re not manning the merch booth again?" Dirga asked Ayaka, walking beside her.

"Nope. Everything’s sold out," Ayaka sighed, a little proud, a little regretful. "I should’ve made more. After qualifying for the final, people started swarming like bees."

"Where’d you even get the money to make it in the first place?" Dirga asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ayaka smiled smugly. "You forget who I am? Student council member. I submitted a funding proposal to make official souvenirs for our basketball team. All by the books."

Dirga gave her a low whistle. "We’ve got a real businesswoman here. Entrepreneurial spirit and everything."

She elbowed him gently. "Don’t mock it."

With two hours until Toyonaka’s game, Horizon wandered through the complex. Booths lined the concourse, filled with food stalls, drinks, tournament memorabilia—souvenirs, towels, limited-edition shirts. The entire area buzzed like a summer festival. Excitement was in the air.

Thirty minutes before tip-off, they regrouped.

"Let’s head in," Sayaka said, adjusting her clipboard. "The game’s about to start."

Together, they entered the arena. And Horizon paused.

The crowd was massive.

Dirga could barely hear the squeak of his sneakers over the roar of conversation, the blaring speaker announcements, the distant beat of cheer squads rehearsing their chants. The energy was different—heavier, sharper.

This wasn’t just a semifinal game.

This was a clash of titans.

Masaki Toyonaka, the reigning Osaka powerhouse.

Heian Gakuen, the Emperor team known for its perfect triangle attack.

Dirga scanned the crowd, spotting clusters of familiar Toyonaka fans. He squinted—some of those faces... old memories, old classmates maybe. But the past was a blur. A distant version of himself.

On the court, Toyonaka’s players appeared, greeted by a roar from the home crowd.

And at their bench—Aoi.

Takeshi-sensei, naturally loud, was already calling out across the court to her like an excited Father at a family wedding.

"Aoi! Look over here!"

Aoi turned. Saw them. Smiled. And gave a wave.

Dirga raised a fist with a smirk and flashed a "beat them" gesture—two fingers poking toward the chest, then down. A message loud and clear.

She laughed and nodded.

Moments later, Heian Gakuen stepped onto the court—tall, calm, silent. Their presence was nothing like Toyonaka’s fireworks. It was quiet dread. Precision wrapped in calmness.

The countdown had begun.

The game was about to start.