Takeru feeds Kenta deep in the block. Rikuya leans in.
Too much.
Kenta lobs it over—Renji skies in.
Slam.
28 – 28.
The scream shakes the gym.
And the score is tie
That scream doesn't shake Dirga. It focuses him.
Back on offense, Horizon adjusts.
Kaito stays off-ball. Dirga commands the pace now, walking it up with a boxer's bounce. Not fast. Not slow. Just uncomfortable.
He calls a ghost screen from Aizawa, knowing full well Hyōgo will switch. He wants them to.
They do.
And now the mismatch is there: Hyōgo's power forward caught out high, guarding Dirga's handle.
Dirga crosses low, sweeps right, then stops dead—the defender over-commits.
Inside pivot.
Spin.
Contact.
Shoulder to chest.
Dirga absorbs it, elevates, and flicks a floater over Renji's late rotation.
Swish.
But it doesn't drop.
The floater arcs high—soft, perfect—and kisses the front of the rim.
It wobbles.
Hangs.
Then rolls out.
Another fight in the paint.
