Chapter 33: Chapter 33

Score: Horizon 45 – Toyonaka 45

The gym trembled with thunderous energy. Both cheering sections roared louder than before—chants, banners, even the war drums pounded with every bounce of the ball.

Coach Tsugawa stood in front of us, eyes steady, voice low but firm.

"The third quarter decides everything. This is when tired bodies turn to instincts. And the smarter team wins."

He looked each of us in the eye.

"Play with grit. Play with pride."

We nodded. No more words were needed.

This wasn’t a game anymore. This was war.

I brought the ball up, calling for a stacked screen. Aizawa flared to the top, but Toyonaka switched the coverage like clockwork. No openings. No hesitation.

Rikuya fought his way into the post, muscling against Haruto Senda. He sealed deep—so I lobbed it in.

Rikuya turned, ready to punish.

But Haruto met him in the air like a brick wall.

The gym shook with screams.

"THAT’S HOW YOU DEFEND!" Toyonaka’s bench roared.

Haruto landed, arms flexed. Rikuya hit the ground and growled like a waking beast.

He wasn’t Buddha anymore.

He had fully embraced The Titan.

This wasn’t going to be finesse.

This was going to be blood in the paint.

Toyonaka came back quickly. Yuto dribbled like a machine, signaling a flex set. Their screens cut through our defense like blades.

Masaki posted Taiga, bullying him into the paint.

Dirga called the double.

Masaki spun baseline and passed over his shoulder to Haruto, who finished through contact.

As we reset, I glanced at Rikuya. His eyes were burning.

"They want the paint?" he muttered, breathing hard. "Then they’ll have to go through hell to get it."

I brought the ball up and let Rikuya work.

He wanted the ball. I gave it to him.

He squared up against Haruto again.

This time—no floaters. No hooks.

He backed Haruto down with sheer power, pivoted, then launched off two feet—

Rikuya roared like a beast uncaged.

But Toyonaka wasn’t fazed.

Yuto flung the ball ahead to Daichi, who Euro-stepped around Rei for an easy layup.

We were trading punches now.

The next few minutes turned ugly.

Bodies collided. Elbows flew. Screens were set like battering rams. The refs let them play.

Rei fought off Arakawa on back-to-back possessions. He finally got free for a corner three.

Masaki snatched the rebound, sprinted full speed, and pulled up from deep.

"Timeout?" Rei asked, panting, blood on his lip.

I looked at Coach Tsugawa.

He shook his head. "Push through."

I slowed the game down, waiting for Toyonaka to settle.

Then I burst into motion—one-touch pass to Taiga at the elbow, immediate cut right.

Taiga handed it back.

Rei came flying off the double screen.

Toyonaka answered again.

Masaki jabbed, backed down Taiga, spun. Aizawa came for the double.

Masaki faked the pass, powered up.

Rikuya rose to meet him—

Foul. Rikuya’s third.

Masaki hit both free throws.

Rikuya bit his mouthguard. "No way that’s a foul."

"You bodied him mid-air," the ref snapped.

"Clean contest," he muttered, walking away.

The crowd was savage now. Toyonaka’s section sang Masaki’s name like a war song.

This time, I pulled Rei to the corner, sent Aizawa to the dunker spot, and called Taiga to screen.

Toyonaka switched again.

I drove left—then threw a no-look wrap pass behind my back to Rikuya.

Then it got even bloodier.

Haruto elbowed Rikuya on a rebound. No call.

Rei got knocked on a corner closeout—blood again.

I dissected Toyonaka with IQ: Lob to Aizawa for a reverse, Skip pass to Rei, top of the arc. Hesitation into a drive-and-dish for Hiroki’s open three.

But champions respond.

Masaki called isolation. The crowd rose with him.

He faked a jab, pulled our entire defense left—then lofted a high lob over the top to Haruto.

I had nothing left but instinct.

Faked the screen call. Drove through two defenders. Saw Haruto creeping up.

I threaded a pass between his legs to Rei.

But then—the gut punch.

Two minutes left in the quarter.

We had the ball. Down by one.

Aizawa flared. Rikuya posted. Rei slid corner.

I drove into the lane.

Then Masaki stepped in.

I went for the Euro-step.

The whole gym erupted.

"Lowered your shoulder," the ref said flatly.

Masaki picked himself up with a smirk.

Coach Tsugawa raised his hand.

We limped back to the bench.

Rei’s lip was bleeding again.

Rikuya was clutching his ribs.

We were drenched in sweat.

Coach didn’t raise his voice.

He crouched in front of us and said, "This is it."

"They’re playing like warriors. But you’re playing like artists."

His gaze locked on mine.

"Now paint something beautiful."

Back on the court, the battle only intensified.

Haruto bodied Rikuya again—no whistle.

Yuto tried to break me down one-on-one. I stayed in front, forcing a bad angle.

He attacked. Taiga helped.

30 seconds left in the quarter.

I brought the ball up slowly.

"Last shot!" I called.

I dribbled out the clock.

Yuto crouched in front of me, hands wide.

I crossed. Spun. Faked the handoff.

The gym exploded—our section jumping, fists flying into the air.