SLAM.
39 – 42.
The crowd exploded.
Taiga roared, veins in his neck taut, chest heaving—alive, for the first time all game.
Dirga clenched his fist.
Second gear : engaged.
The machine was no longer turning.
It was awakening.
Kaito was slowing.
His shoulders rose and fell with each breath, heavier now. His steps lost that effortless bounce—like he was carrying weight no one else could see.
Dirga saw it.
Everyone did.
Then came the moment: Kaito winced, a hand drifting to his chest, just for a second. Not pain. Just… pressure. A quiet warning from the heart he had pushed too far.
From the bench, Coach Tsuguwa stood immediately. No hesitation.
"Rei. In."
Rei nodded, already peeling off his warm-up.
As the whistle blew for a dead ball, Kaito jogged off the court—shoulders proud, but face tight, every inhale measured. He passed Dirga, who met his eyes.
Dirga spoke low, firm.
"I'll leave the paint to you, Kaito-senpai."
