Asahi's eyes narrowed. The usual cold calculation flickered with something new—
A chill.
Doubt.
He looked across the court, then back toward the Horizon bench.
To Coach Tsugawa Masaki.
To the man who changed Europe's tempo years ago.
Who now stood still, arms crossed, watching like a conductor listening to a symphony reaching crescendo.
Then back to Dirga, now standing just beyond the arc, hands relaxed, but legs twitching with kinetic energy.
Asahi exhaled.
"We answer it. We hit the paint. Target the mismatch."
Tsukasa nodded.
"Got it. They don't have a center anymore."
"Exactly," Asahi said. "No Rikuya. No rim protection. We punish that. Again and again."
…
Time remaining: 6:43
Rakuzan Ball.
Asahi brought it up, steady and cold.
No panic.
Just calculation.
Their target was clear.
Taiga.
The makeshift center. 175 centimeters of grit, standing in for the 189cm Rikuya.
Undersized.
Overmatched.
And right where Rakuzan wanted to go.
