"Keep trying, little bro."
Aizawa's fists clenched.
His jaw flexed.
But he didn't say a word.
Dirga glanced at Aizawa—eyes alert.
He could feel it.
The fire was starting.
And Horizon?
Just getting warmed up.
…
Inbound to Dirga.
Backcourt.
Haru stepped up again—tight stance, arms out, that same focused look. But Dirga saw the gap in his footwork.
This kid still doesn't get it.
They're underestimating me.
Fine.
He'd make them regret it.
Dirga brought the ball up, slow at first. Then—
A hand signal. A jab.
Rikuya stepped in for the screen.
A clean angle, set left. Haru readied himself to fight through it.
Except—Dirga rejected it.
BOOM.
Explosive first step.
A blur past the screen.
Dirga cut right—open.
But he didn't go all the way in.
He paused.
Because he knew.
Riku, North Wolves' towering center, was waiting in the paint. Lurking. Ready to leap.
So instead—Dirga lifted.
A shooting motion.
Pump fake?
No.
Pass.
