CHAPTER 98: HEIAN GAKUEN VS TOYONAKA : THE BLACK THUNDER IGNITES

Dirga sat silently in the upper stands, hoodie up, eyes locked on the court below. The tension was unmistakable. This wasn’t just any game.

This was Toyonaka vs. Heian Gakuen.

The clash of styles. Of pride. Of ambition.

And right at the center of it all—Masaki.

Dirga narrowed his eyes. What kind of monster have you become, Masaki?

...

The game began with Heian Gakuen winning the first possession. Toma Reiji calmly tipped the ball to Riku Mamoru, who instantly initiated the play.

No surprise—Heian Gakuen immediately slid into their signature system: the Triangle Offense.

Across the court, Toyonaka responded with a 2–3 zone: two defenders outside the arc, three inside the paint. A safe choice. But against a team like Heian Gakuen, even "safe" could become dangerous.

Heian wasn’t famous for their outside shooting, but they weren’t weak, either. If left open, they could still make you pay.

And they did.

Relentlessly.

With crisp passes, tight cuts, and almost psychic timing, Heian Gakuen tore through the zone like a blade through water. Toyonaka scrambled, switching between man-to-man and zone, trying to find a rhythm—but it wasn’t enough. The triangle kept evolving, adapting. Every rotation, every misstep was punished.

Dirga could already see it: Toyonaka was being crushed on defense.

But on the other end of the court... the storm had a name.

Masaki King.

He didn’t wait. He didn’t hesitate.

From the opening whistle, Masaki played like a man possessed.

He wasn’t just scoring—he was exploding.

Pull-up threes. Lightning-quick drives. Floaters, double clutches, reverse layups, even a one-handed dunk through contact. He attacked from every angle, every level.

The crowd was going insane. Even the commentators couldn’t believe it.

"Masaki is on a different planet tonight!"

"Look at that elevation! That’s not just vertical—that’s orbital!"

He wasn’t playing like a high schooler.

He was playing like something else entirely.

Heian Gakuen, for all their preparation, didn’t know what to do with him. Even Riku Mamoru, their elite defender, struggled to contain the sheer unpredictability.

Dirga leaned forward. He knew that energy. That overwhelming force. That chaos.

"He’s hitting that same zone I did," Dirga thought. Flow State... maybe not literal, but close. Instinct-driven. Pure offense."

The first quarter ended with a close score.

Heian Gakuen 23 — Toyonaka 21.

Aizawa, watching from the audience seat, let out a breath.

"That guy... is ridiculous."

Taiga grinned. "I wanna guard him."

Kaito stared in silence.

And Dirga?

Dirga smirked.

No words.

Just... respect.

He’s grown.

...

Masaki had scored 18 of Toyonaka’s 21 points.

As the buzzer echoed, both teams headed to their benches.

But Dirga saw something else.

A flicker.

A moment.

Tension.

Yuto Kobayashi, Toyonaka’s point guard, threw his towel down in frustration. He said something to Masaki—his expression tight, jaw clenched.

Masaki didn’t respond. He just sipped water, eyes still locked on the court.

Dirga sighed. So it’s started.

He knew this dynamic all too well.

Yuto was the classic leader. Old-school. Disciplined. He believed in team play, in structure, in five moving as one.

And Masaki?

Masaki was chaos incarnate. A player who could carry the whole game on his back—but in doing so, disrupted the team’s rhythm.

"I get it now," Dirga thought. "They’re clashing not because they hate each other... but because they play the game differently."

Yuto didn’t like that Masaki hoarded the ball. But he couldn’t argue with the results.

Masaki was thriving in that role.

He was carrying them.

Yet... something about it felt off.

Dirga could sense it. The balance was wrong. The trust between teammates was starting to fray. Masaki was burning bright—but how long could he sustain it?

And what would happen when the others stopped believing they were part of the fight?

Dirga leaned back and exhaled. Just earlier, his team—Horizon—had overcome impossible odds to reach the final. They had grown. They had evolved.

They were no longer the underdogs.

But what about Toyonaka?

Were they rising too? Or were they splitting at the seams?

Masaki returned to the court first, bouncing the ball gently, alone at half court. Eyes ahead. Calm. Focused.

But not waiting.

Yuto followed behind, expression unreadable.

The whistle blew.

The second quarter began.

And Dirga whispered under his breath:

"You better figure it out soon, Masaki. Or even all your power won’t be enough."

...

The whistle blew.

Toyonaka took possession to open the second quarter.

From the jump, it was clear: Toyonaka’s defense was evolving. They were rotating faster, communicating better. Even Masaki, known mostly for his offense, had begun to improve his positioning and contesting.

But...

Heian Gakuen wasn’t called the Emperor for nothing.

Their triangle offense wasn’t just a formation—it was a philosophy. And worse, they didn’t rely on just

the system. Their individual talent levels were staggering. Even if you managed to counter the pattern, you couldn’t neutralize their skill.

They had layers.

And they kept scoring.

Every time Toyonaka got a stop, Heian adjusted—tightening their execution, finding new angles. It was like trying to plug holes in a dam with bare hands. Inevitably, water burst through.

Still, Toyonaka had one answer: Masaki King.

He continued his personal war against Heian. Shot after shot. Drive after drive. His movements were sharp, decisive. Even when Heian threw double-teams at him, he found ways to create space or draw fouls.

It was enough to keep them in striking distance.

Until it happened.

Midway through the second quarter.

Yuto Kobayashi—Toyonaka’s point guard—found himself wide open at the three-point line.

Masaki had the ball at the top.

A pass would’ve led to an easy three.

But Masaki didn’t pass.

He saw a narrow lane to the basket and attacked instead—shoulders down, slicing into the paint. The crowd rose with him. For a moment, it looked like he might soar again.

But this time... Riku Mamoru was waiting.

BAM!

A thunderous block.

Masaki went sprawling. The gym roared, half in awe, half in shock.

And Yuto?

He didn’t say a word—but his expression said everything.

Stone cold.

Disappointed.

Betrayed.

The next few plays told the real story.

Yuto began freezing Masaki out.

No passes. No eye contact. Every possession was run through someone else.

And Toyonaka’s offense collapsed.

Masaki, used to rhythm and momentum, was left stranded. The flow broke. The energy fractured. Their scoring stalled—and Heian Gakuen seized the moment like a pack of wolves sensing blood.

Fast breaks. Backdoor cuts. Three after three.

Dirga’s eyes narrowed from the stands.

Halftime score: Heian Gakuen 48 – Toyonaka 34.