"Remember our strategy," Coach Tsugawa said, his voice low but firm, echoing through the locker room. "We can't play our game if you're not cold-headed. Don't get provoked. Don't get pulled into their rhythm."
"Yes, Coach."
"Alright," he nodded. "Now go out there… and break a leg."
We rose together, the sound of sneakers scuffing against the locker room floor filling the silence. Time to walk into the fire.
Rakuzan entered the arena first—their red and black jerseys glinting under the lights, faces unreadable, confident. Cold. Asahi Tenma led them with that calm arrogance of someone who expected to win just by showing up.
Then it was our turn.
Dirga leads them, eyes sharp. Behind him, Rei flicks his wrist like he's already knocking down shots. Aizawa's got his usual grin—half hype, half danger. Taiga rolls his shoulders, quiet and coiled. And Rikuya? Calm as ever. A Budha in motion.
The announcer's voice boomed over the PA system.
