Buzzer.
The sound ripped through the gym like thunder.
Fourth quarter.
The scoreboard glowed 74–65.
Easton still led but Seiryō's Pulse refused to die.
The crowd was a living wave of sound, a sea of motion and color. Sweat dripped, sneakers screeched, hearts pounded. Every breath carried tension, every glance a promise of retaliation. Marcus inhaled deeply, tasting the salt of effort and the heat of war in the air.
He looked at his teammates Yuuto, Shunjin, Kento, Daichi. Each face was streaked with exhaustion but burning with something fiercer.
Fire.
Coach Aoyama's words still echoed in his head.
"Flow through their system. Don't fight the tide redirect it."
Marcus rolled his shoulders, chest heaving. "Let's bring it back."
Yuuto nodded once. Calm. Grounded. His eyes gleamed with that quiet fire again the one that always appeared before he caught flame.
