I Died on the Court, Now I’m Back to Rule It

"Dirga—focus on conducting the offense."

"Let him dance. You drive the rhythm."

He looked around again, gaze sharp.

"The rest of you—focus. And believe in yourselves."

"Yes, Coach!"

All five voices—stronger now.

Recentered.

A new note in the air. Tighter. Sharper. Like resetting the tempo on a metronome.

…

Back on the floor.

Dirga brought it up again.

Eyes locked forward.

Haruki waited.

But now?

Taiga shadowed.

No hesitation.

No delay.

Feet heavy but precise. Breathing steady in his chest.

Haruki saw the matchup instantly.

Tried to juke left, into a spin move—his signature misdirection.

Taiga didn't bite.

Didn't flinch.

Didn't even chase.

He held.

Feet planted.

Chest out.

Absorbing the motion.

Haruki shifted again—sharper this time.

A second drive attempt.

Taiga slid.

Clean. Controlled.

Shoulders square.

Contact.

And for the first time—

Haruki stumbled.

The crowd gasped.

No turnover.

No steal.

But a ripple through the gym.

Haruki passed—late.

Keita caught in the corner—

Forced a three.

Missed.

Dirga snagged the rebound.

Eyes already scanning.

Transition.

Aizawa broke left—full sprint.

Dirga pushed.

Mid-stride swing—

Threaded pass.

Layup.

4 – 13.

A pulse.

A heartbeat in the chaos.

Small.

But real.

Haruki walked it up.

Taiga stood waiting.

No crouch. No stance.

Just presence.

Just pressure.

A silent wall.

Haruki circled once.

Measured. Calculated.

But he didn't dive in yet.

Instead—

A flick pass to Masato.

Reset.

Ball back to Haruki, top of the key.

This time?

He tested it.

Dribble. Hesi. Step-back.

The rhythm looked the same—

But Taiga didn't budge.

Eyes sharp.

Feet ready.

Haruki fired.

Clang.

Off the front iron.

His first miss.

But Joji... cleaned it.

Offensive board.

Monster hands.

One quick elbow swing—

Spin.

Rim attack.

DUNK.

4 – 15.

And the whole court—

shook.

…

Dirga brought it up again—

Eyes darting.

Reading gaps.

Feeling tempo.

He skipped the screen.

No delay.

Just pure motion.

Quick pass to Hiroki on the wing—

Immediate swing to Aizawa—

Taiga sliced through the lane, a blur past the defenders—

Drew eyes.

Opened space.

Ball zipped back to Dirga.

Top of the arc.

Pull-up three.

No hesitation.

Snap.

Net.

7 – 15.

The bench erupted.

Fists up.

Voices sharp.

Momentum flickered—

Not a blaze.

Not yet.

But a spark.

…

Haruki Miyazato wasn't just playing now.

He was baiting.

No screens.

No cuts.

No distractions.

Just Haruki.

And chaos.

Step.

Cross.

Behind-the-back.

Pump fake.

Taiga held his ground—

Low stance.

Arms wide.

Hips square.

Eyes locked in.

Haruki paused.

Reset.

Jab step.

Then—burst left.

Taiga shifted—

Clipped.

Half a step behind.

Enough to create danger.

But Dirga had already triggered it.

[Tempo Sight – Active Trigger: GODFRAME – 45 seconds]

His pupils dilated.

Eyes flickering—white-blue glow.

And then—

The vision returned.

The world flattened.

Aerial view.

Like watching the court from above.

Enemies pulsed red.

Allies pulsed blue.

Passing lanes shimmered like heat haze.

Arcs and timing curves danced across the floor—

like painted lines of music and momentum.

Dirga's mind read it all.

Haruki drove.

Joji cut.

From the top, slashing toward the rim.

Dump pass—

Dirga saw it coming before it happened.

Reach.

Deflect.

The ball spun wild.

Loose.

Hiroki snatched it.

Fast break.

Aizawa took off.

Two streaks—blue fire across the court.

The Drakes scrambled to recover—

Too slow.

One bounce.

Lead pass.

Aizawa.

Layup.

Net.

9 – 15.

A breath in the crowd.

A shift in the room.

The spark was catching fire.

…

Drakes possession.

Haruki jogged it up.

No rush.

No expression.

Just silence in motion.

Taiga stepped up to meet him.

This time, hard stance.

Low hips.

Eyes level.

Dirga had whispered it just before:

"It's you now, Taiga."

Taiga had nodded.

Tapped his chest.

"Me."

The Drakes cleared out.

One-four flat.

A signal.

"Really?" Taiga muttered, squaring up.

Haruki smirked.

"Let's dance."

Then he moved.

Dirga watched it unfold—

Like a chessboard gone wild.

Haruki vs. Taiga

First step—left.

Taiga slid.

Second step—dead stop.

Taiga caught it.

Almost.

Spin right.

Quick.

Clean.

Taiga stayed with it.

Recovered.

But Haruki?

He didn't play in rhythm.

He played in disruption.

No crossover.

No tempo.

Just off-beat chaos.

Half-step early.

Half-step late.

Then—suddenly—

Blow-by.

Gone.

Two strides.

Layup.

9 – 17.

Taiga watched the ball drop through the net.

Didn't slump.

Didn't sigh.

He just stared.

Eyes locked.

Jaw set.

He'd lost the step.

Got cooked.

But not broken.

Not even close.

That fire behind his gaze?

Still burning.

Hotter.

He muttered it—

Low.

Cracked with heat.

A whisper like a promise.

"Yeah... you can pass me now."

"Just wait."

And he smiled—

Not wide.

Not friendly.

Unhinged.

Like a guy about to sprint through a brick wall.

…

Just like revenge.

Dirga waved off the screen.

ISO.

No sets.

No signals.

Just one-on-one clarity.

They needed it—

A moment of calm in a storm of noise.

He faced Masato.

Dribbled left—

Shoulder dip.

Spin at the elbow.

Masato held ground.

Tall. Disciplined.

Dirga rose into the pump—

Masato jumped.

Too soon.

Dirga leaned in.

Contact.

Whistle.

Two shots.

The gym hushed.

Dirga exhaled.

Routine.

Swish.

Swish.

11 – 17.

…

20 Seconds Remaining

No timeout.

No clipboard.

Just Coach Renji's nod.

Haruki brought it up.

Deliberate. Loose. Deadly.

"Last shot," he muttered—audible on purpose.

Taiga was already waiting.

Stance wide.

Eyes burning.

This time?

No illusions.

Just collision.

Haruki dribbled once.

Twice.

Then—

Explosion.

Straight into Taiga's chest.

Boom.

Bodies collided.

Taiga held ground.

Haruki staggered—off balance—

Flung it out to Masato.

One dribble.

Pull-up.

Front rim.

Miss.

Horn.

Blare.

The quarter ended—

But Taiga didn't move.

He stared across the court, chest heaving.

Right at Haruki.

Eyes lit.

Not just focused—

Ferocious.

Like a guy who just found his rhythm

and wanted blood.

"See?" he muttered through clenched teeth, voice low, cracked with heat.

"I got you."

Haruki paused.

Head tilted slightly.

He didn't frown.

Didn't smirk.

Just that crooked, unreadable smile.

Almost impressed.

Almost hungry.

"Nice," he said.

"Let's see where it goes."

Then he turned—

Back straight.

Hands loose.

Smile still there.

Taiga didn't blink.

Didn't breathe.

He just whispered again, to no one in particular:

"You're mine now."

…

Toyonaka Horizon High 11 - Naha Southern Drakes High 17