The buzzer screamed, slicing through the gym like a razor.
Fourth quarter.
The crowd erupted into a tidal wave of sound chants, stomps, the metallic slap of bleachers vibrating under hundreds of eager fans. The air was thick with heat, sweat, and the electric scent of adrenaline. Each player on the court felt it pressing down, yet it sharpened them, made every movement more precise, more dangerous.
Seiryō's team walked back onto the court, heads high but shoulders heavy. Jerseys clung to drenched skin, shoes squeaking with every step. Marcus clapped his hands once, sharp and loud, the sound cutting through the noise.
"We finish this. No fear," he said, eyes blazing.
Yuuto rolled the ball between his palms, chest heaving, heart hammering like a drum. Sweat stung the corners of his eyes, but his mind was calm, focused. Every late-night practice, every endless drill, every time he'd pushed himself to exhaustion all had led to this quarter.
