Masaki, used to rhythm and momentum, was left stranded. The flow broke. The energy fractured. Their scoring stalled—and Heian Gakuen seized the moment like a pack of wolves sensing blood.
Fast breaks. Backdoor cuts. Three after three.
Dirga's eyes narrowed from the stands.
Halftime score: Heian Gakuen 48 – Toyonaka 34.
…
The damage had been done.
As both teams retreated to their locker rooms, the tension was thick.
Heian Gakuen walked with calm confidence. Efficient. Focused. Silent, but deadly.
Toyonaka, on the other hand...
Masaki stormed ahead alone. Yuto trailed behind, not even glancing in his direction. The rest of the team followed awkwardly, silent, heads down. No words. No energy. Just the heavy weight of something broken.
Dirga remained seated, eyes following them until they disappeared down the tunnel.
He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"So it's not just about talent," he thought. "It's about trust. And right now, they don't have it."
