Dirga moved.
One dribble left.
Step-back.
Kick to Aizawa—far wing.
Late defense.
Catch.
Shot.
In.
40 – 36.
He backpedaled slowly.
Not smiling.
Not satisfied.
Just… listening.
To the floor.
To the weight of five defenders trying to anticipate something—
That hadn't even been called.
He exhaled.
If I can keep them guessing... I can slow them.
…
Kaito peeled off the bench.
Unwrapped his towel.
Eyes locked.
Hands already clenching.
"KAITO IS CHECKING BACK IN!"
"The fire returns to the floor—just in time! Horizon holds the edge, but Kurotsuki's pulse is rising!"
Dirga's heart kicked—
Not from pressure.
Not from nerves.
From rhythm.
Because Kaito wasn't just energy.
He was an amplifier.
And if Dirga could conduct the beat—
Kaito could burn through the silence.
Substitution.
Rei out.
Kaito in.
They bumped hands.
No words.
Just a rhythm transfer.
Dirga turned back to the court.
Sho: under the rim.
Taniguchi: drifting far corner like a ghost.
