The fog wasn't gone.
It had just taken on a new shape.
Something was off.
Not broken.
Not shattered.
Just—
Off-axis.
…
Dirga brought it up the sideline.
Jaw set.
Eyes scanning like a codebreaker trying to find a symbol that shouldn't exist.
He called motion.
Strong-side two-man action.
Kaito cut early.
Rikuya slipped baseline.
Taiga drifted corner.
The geometry was perfect.
They'd run it a dozen times.
Dirga held it center.
Tossed it to Kaito.
Clean handoff.
Kaito caught.
Pump fake—
Sho stayed grounded. Eyes locked.
Toshiro slid low, sealing the drive lane.
Kaito didn't force it.
No panic.
He kicked it back to Dirga.
Dirga snapped it cross-court—lead pass to Aizawa curling weak-side.
Catch. Turn. Lane open—
Except…
It wasn't.
Ryōta had shifted.
Not a lunge.
Not a steal attempt.
Just half a body forward—in the wrong place at the worst time.
He didn't touch anyone.
Didn't even flinch.
He was just… there.
Aizawa caught it in stride—
