Then—
Fadeaway hook.
Up.
Over.
Through.
Between Joji's outstretched fingers—
Swish.
13 – 23.
The whistle blew.
Foul.
Rikuya hit the floor.
Back flat.
Chest rising.
But his eyes—
Locked on Joji.
Silent.
I can do better.
He stood.
Stepped to the line.
One bounce.
Exhale.
Shot—
Clean.
14 – 23.
No roar from the crowd.
Just a shifting energy.
Like something tightened.
Rikuya backpedaled.
This time?
He wasn't retreating.
This time?
He'd won.
Against Joji.
Even if just for a moment—
The mountain had shifted.
…
Drakes possession.
Haruki walked it up.
Ball bouncing slow.
Theatrical.
Each dribble an invitation.
Each step, a dare.
Come press me.
I dare you.
Taiga gave him a half-step more space this time.
Not retreat.
Adjustment.
Learning.
Respect without surrender.
Haruki took it.
Quick jab.
Acceleration—
Step-back—
But Taiga didn't bite.
Slid in rhythm.
Feet light. Eyes calm.
Haruki rose anyway.
Deep pull-up.
Fired it—
Long.
