Taiga had briefed Rin earlier that morning. They sat under the shade behind the gym, the air still thick with the residue of the last practice, and Taiga’s voice low but firm as he explained what had unfolded after the team meeting. Rin had listened in silence, jaw clenched, eyes dim. “You need to submit your name,” Taiga had said finally, breaking the pause. “Tomorrow’s game decides the season. If you skip it, they’ll pull you off the team.” Rin didn’t need convincing. He had no intention of losing basketball—not for Takuri, not for Izumi, not for anyone. He wouldn’t let heartbreak take that from him. That’s what led him here now, standing in front of Izumi’s desk in the team office. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a cool tone over the white walls and blue-tinted windows. Rin stood tall, expression blank, voice flat. “Where do I write my name?” he asked directly, wasting no time on pleasantries. Izumi raised her brows and offered a slight, condescending
Rin hadn’t been to school in four days. Four days since he ran off into the night with bruises around his neck and panic in his eyes. Two days until the Shirakiba Wolves were set to face their next match—against one of the most formidable opponents this season: the Minazuki Dragons. Taiga sat in the meeting room, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped together. His eyes didn’t stray from the floor for long. Not with her standing up front. Izumi stood before them, giving her usual stern, instructive address—like she wasn’t the reason their captain was missing. Like she hadn’t crawled back into Takuri’s life and cracked it open like an old wound. And Takuri… well, Taiga didn’t even want to look at him. But he did. He looked like hell. Eyes sunken, lips pale, hair messier than usual. He hadn’t shaved, and he looked like sleep hadn’t touched him in days. Good. He didn’t deserve comfort. Taiga sighed quietly. He was trying—really trying—to keep his expressio
The hallway was cold, silent but for the echo of footsteps pounding against the tile floor. “Rin,” Takuri’s voice came sharp, his pace quickening. “Stop walking away from me—I’m speaking to you.” Rin froze mid-step, his back still turned, shoulders stiff. The tone… it wasn’t just a plea. It was a command. His body tensed involuntarily, spine locking. He turned his head slightly, lips parted with disbelief. “Did you just—did you just use a command on me?” His voice shook with restrained fury, his arm twisting against Takuri’s grip, trying to pull free. Takuri's fingers only tightened. “I need you to listen to me.” “No,” Rin snapped, yanking his arm again. “No, I don’t want to hear whatever it is you think you have to say. What could you possibly tell me that justifies that?” His voice cracked. “What you said to me out there—how do you even begin to justify that?” Takuri flinched. His grip softened, but didn’t release. “You humiliated me,” Rin continued, eyes glistening. “
The gym was loud with the buzz of anticipation. The Shirakiba Wolves stood gathered near their bench, sweat clinging to their skin from warm-ups, the sound of bouncing balls and sneaker squeaks thick in the air. The scoreboard hadn’t even lit up, yet the tension was already electric. Their opponents—Kujin Tai—stood across the court, dressed in dark forest green and white. Sharp uniforms, sharper stares. But it was their ace, Midorin Haizen, that drew the most attention. Tall, lean, and eerily calm, he spun the ball on his finger with surgical precision, unreadable emerald eyes scanning the court like a predator. Maya Yesuda leaned against the bench, his light blue hair tied in a loose ponytail. Sharing what he knew. He kept his tone casual as he spoke to his team mates . “Just so you know,” Maya said, keeping his eyes on Midorin, “I used to play with him in middle school. He’s not the type to get rattled. Reads plays fast. Doesn’t waste energy.” Rin gave a soft hum of acknow
the morning air was crisp, the clouds veiing the rising sun.Dew clung stubbornly to the corners of the chain-link fence surrounding the public basketball court, making the world feel fresh, untouched. Empty. Quiet. Except for Maya. He stood near the free-throw line, arms folded over his chest, his back rising and falling in steady breaths. He had arrived ten minutes early, pacing occasionally, trying to calm the steady beat of nerves behind his ribcage. dressed in shorts and a loose baggy top, his light blue hair packed in a pony tail. He couldn’t get Dante's face out of his head, or the way Taiga had looked last night after the game. Like he had something to say but didn’t know how. Like his heart was carrying something too heavy for one person. Maya looked up at the sound of sneakers crunching gravel. Taiga was here. Hands shoved in the pockets of his joggers, flannel jacket unbuttoned displaying tonned abs and defined.waist and V line, hair swaying in the wind.Taiga approach
The stadium pulsed with life—an electric storm of energy surging through every bleacher, every row, every soul packed into the arena. Sneakers screeched against polished hardwood, a rhythmic friction that blended with the deep thud of bouncing basketballs and the rising roar of the crowd. The Shirakiba Wolves were locked in battle, and this time, it wasn’t just any ordinary game.This was war.The Kansa Mortals stood across from them, towering in presence and fierce in talent. Each player moved with the precision of machines but burned with something wild in their eyes—untamed determination, the kind that tasted like blood and sweat. At the center of it all was their Ace, Kota Roku.Kota had a reputation that preceded him. He was a shadow in the court world—unreadable, lethal, and dangerously accurate. His uncanny ability to mirror any move and make it his own had earned him the title of The Phantom Ace. And now, that shadow had turned its gaze to Taiga.Just minutes before tip-off, M