PREVIEW
... gh the air like a blade.
It wasn’t panic.
It wasn’t anger.
But it was serious.
War-time serious.
The players gathered. Horizon jogged to the bench, sweat trailing like steam off their shoulders, breath tight in their chests.
Dirga sat down last—his face set, jaw clenched, legs bouncing.
He was fuming. Not from ego, but from the instinct to fight. His muscles were hot, twitching to return. But he looked at Coach Tsugawa... and held back.
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