Toyonaka Horizon High 50 - Nagano Kurotsuki High41
"Another quarter of Dirga's vision! He really is the maestro!"
"Maestro, phantom, tempo-breaker—he's writing this game like a symphony."
"Yeah, but Kurotsuki doesn't break. They bend. Let's see what they've been hiding."
…
Horizon Bench
Laughter—not loud, but low and warm, like jazz under breath.
Taiga draped his towel like a cape, smirking beneath it.
Aizawa elbowed Rikuya in the ribs, murmuring a box-out joke only they could hear.
Dirga drank water slowly, eyes half-lidded, listening—not to voices, but breath.
No one was gassed.
They were breathing in rhythm.
Tuned.
The tempo?
Theirs.
Coach Tsugawa barely needed to speak.
He just gave a small nod and said:
"Don't slow down. Just finish the piece."
Then—
Kaito stepped forward.
No more hand on ribs. No grimace. He stood like stone warmed by fire.
"Coach," he said, steady. "I'm going."
Tsugawa raised one brow.
"How long?"
Kaito held up two fingers.
