The pressure changed.
It wasn't louder.
It wasn't faster.
It was heavier.
Yuuto felt it the moment Ryu stopped smiling.
The dribble slowed—thump… thump… thump—each bounce echoing like a countdown. Ryu stood taller now, posture relaxed but commanding, red aura no longer flaring wildly but condensing inward, dense and controlled.
This was different.
This wasn't testing.
This was authority.
"Alright," Ryu said quietly, voice carrying only because the court itself seemed to listen.
"Let's see how far your eyes really reach."
The King of the Court stepped forward.
Yuuto lowered his stance instinctively, knees burning, breath ragged. His vision sharpened again—but this time it hurt. The court fractured into layers: passing lanes, rotations, help defense, weak-side shadows. Too much information. Too fast.
Watch the hips.
Ryu's hips barely moved.
Yuuto's heart skipped.
Too late—Ryu exploded.
Not with speed.
With presence.
