The arena had learned Ryu's rhythm.
That was the terrifying part.
Not just the players—everyone.
The crowd's breathing rose and fell with his dribble. The refs' whistles seemed delayed, like even they were waiting for permission. Hakuro moved like a perfected system, gears interlocking, every rotation precise.
Hakuro — 51
Seiryō — 44
Five minutes remained in the fourth.
On Seiryō's bench, nobody sat.
Coach Takeda didn't bark orders anymore. He didn't need to.
This wasn't about schemes now.
It was about belief.
Yuuto stood at half court as Shinji brought the ball up, chest still heaving from the last defensive stand. Sweat stung his eyes, but his vision felt sharper than ever. The Self-Actualization buzzed quietly beneath his thoughts—not overwhelming, not flashing warnings.
Stable.
Present.
Alive.
Across from him, Ryu waited.
Relaxed.
Interested.
Like a predator who'd finally found prey worth chasing.
Shinji crossed half court and raised two fingers.
