I Died on the Court, Now I'm Back to Rule It-Chapter 78: Horizon VS Rakuzan : The Tempo Shift 3

Rakuzan tried to bait contact again—

But Horizon avoided it like a dance.

Clean movement. Measured rhythm.

Every foul Rakuzan wanted to fish—was a ghost in their hands.

The game is electrifying—Rakuzan’s relentless press is suffocating, while Horizon fights desperately to break through and score. Every possession is a war, with Rakuzan crashing the paint like a storm, determined to dominate.

...

4th Quarter – 4:07

Rakuzan 65 – Horizon 63.

The gym was a furnace—packed with breath, heat, and the tension of a single shot.

Kaito staggered toward the bench, one hand pressed to his ribs, the other wiping sweat from his eyes. His chest rose and fell in ragged waves.

Coach Tsugawa met his gaze.

No dramatic words. Just a nod.

That was enough.

Timeout: Horizon.

The crowd clapped—not loud, not wild. Just... respectful. Because everyone saw it.

Kaito had given everything.

Dirga stepped in front of him. Shoulder bump. No smile.

"You held the line."

Kaito forced a tired grin. "Keep the rhythm going."

Substitution: Kaito OUT. Aizawa IN.

Substitution: Taiga OUT. Rikuya IN.

The tension rippled.

Rikuya, already carrying four fouls.

Aizawa, smaller, but fast and smart.

This was a gamble.

No anchor. No cushion.

Coach Tsugawa trusted them.

He bet it all on speed and symphony.

Dirga glanced up at the clock:

4:07.

Every second was now a beat in a symphony with no repeats

It was silent.

Then it hit.

Like lightning under skin.

Echo gasped.

Not in fear—

In awakening.

Veins lit up.

The crowd blurred.

Noise became a low hum, like waves behind glass.

His heartbeat vanished.

Only tempo remained.

Only the flow.

Here comes THE Maestro

Asahi brought it up.

Dirga met him, feet set.

Rakuzan immediately looked for the mismatch.

They went after Rikuya—again.

Drive. Contact. Shoulder in.

Rikuya held—barely—

No foul.

Kick out. Tsukasa tried to curl around Aizawa.

Dirga appeared in the lane.

Not ran.

Appeared.

The pass was intercepted.

Dirga didn’t dribble.

He launched.

One step.

Two.

The defense tried to rotate—too slow.

Layup. Finger roll. Clean.

Score: 65 – 65

Rakuzan slowed it now.

They felt it.

This wasn’t just Horizon trying to survive.

This was Horizon—ascending.

They passed around the perimeter, trying to bait the defense,

forcing Rikuya into switching out.

Then Tsukasa drove hard. Rikuya in position—again, vertical.

But they called it.

Foul.

5th.

Rikuya stood frozen.

Ref pointed to the bench.

Dead silence.

Rikuya’s head dropped.

Substitution: Rikuya OUT

Taiga IN (despite 4 fouls)

Coach Tsugawa exhaled through his nose.

Dirga clenched his fists.

Aizawa just nodded, rhythm unchanged.

Tsukasa at the line

1st Shot: In

2nd Shot: Missed

Score: Rakuzan 66 – Horizon 65

Dirga waved the set.

No motion.

Just chaos.

Hiroki ran a double back screen into a sharp cut, dragged both defenders.

Dirga slipped left, cross-step, drive.

Rakuzan tried to trap.

He passed behind the back—Aizawa caught it.

No hesitation. Three-pointer.

Splash.

Score: Rakuzan 66 - Horizon 68

4th Quarter – 3:38

Rakuzan 66 – Horizon 68

The net still shimmered from Aizawa’s shot when Asahi stormed up the court.

No timeout. No pause.

Just raw retaliation.

Dirga turned. Their eyes locked—one step ahead of the game, both of them.

Asahi shifted left.

Fast.

Dirga shadowed him, feet gliding like he was skating across air.

Asahi jabbed. Crossed. Crossed again.

Dirga stayed glued.

The Flow State sharpened his senses to a blade’s edge.

The crowd roared around them, but Dirga only heard the heartbeat of the game.

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

Asahi drove baseline—then spun into the lane.

Elevated. Midair clash.

Dirga didn’t jump.

He read it—timed it.

Swipe.

Ball stripped clean in midair.

Gasps exploded from the stands.

Dirga snagged the loose ball and took off.

3:09.

Rakuzan swarmed.

Three defenders.

He didn’t see a wall.

He saw angles.

Aizawa sprinted wide—Asahi tailed him.

Rei was in the corner. Hiroki cut hard to the short corner.

But Dirga didn’t pass.

He slithered.

Step-through. Euro. Hang in the air.

**Contact—**No whistle.

Didn’t matter.

66 - 70

The crowd erupted—a noise like a dam bursting.

2:51

Rakuzan didn’t hesitate.

Reiji Kaname, fire in his veins, raced down and pulled up from deep.

Dirga turned too late.

Bang.

69 - 70

Coach Tsugawa didn’t call timeout.

He let them run.

Dirga clapped once. "Move."

Horizon moved like extensions of his will. No signals. Just rhythm.

Rei screened. Hiroki rolled.

But Dirga saw Asahi shadowing him now. Tight. Unrelenting.

A challenge.

He took it.

Dirga crossed. Between the legs. Drove.

Asahi didn’t bite.

Dirga stopped, sudden.

Stepback.

Asahi flew in—too aggressive.

Dirga twisted mid-air, fading away from contact.

Release.

Swish.

69 - 72

2:11

Rakuzan again.

This time—Tsukasa.

He danced around Taiga, who couldn’t risk a fifth foul.

Mid-range jumper.

71 - 72

The clock was bleeding, second by second, heartbeat by heartbeat.

1:48

Dirga dribbled at the top.

Breathing slow. Calm.

Then exploded.

Cross—cross—spin—drive—

Asahi met him in the paint.

Contact.

Dirga elevated through it. Surged upward.

In midair—he twisted—

Reverse layup.

71 - 74

Even Asahi blinked.

He grinned.

"I’m not done."

"Neither am I," Dirga replied.

1:21

Rakuzan ran a set.

Backdoor cut.

Reiji caught the pass—wide open—

But Hiroki came flying in—last second—

Block.

Ball bounced.

Scramble.

Dirga dove.

Loose ball—his.

He rolled. Passed.

Taiga dunked it.

71 - 76

The bench jumped.

0:57

Rakuzan looked frantic.

Tsukasa pulled up again.

Short.

Taiga rebounded, nearly losing it—but Aizawa saved it.

Dirga had it.

He walked it up.

0:41.

Eyes locked with Asahi one more time.

No screen.

No help.

Just one-on-one.

Dirga jabbed.

Asahi flinched.

Dirga pulled.

Three.

Silence midair.

Net.

71 - 79

0:24

Rakuzan scored again—quick two from Araki.

73 - 79

Dirga didn’t slow down.

He waved everyone off. fгeewёbnoѵel_cσm

Held the ball.

They had to foul.

Clock ticked.

Foul.

Dirga walked to the line.

Breathing calm.

He looked at the rim.

Then closed his eyes.

Swish.

73 - 80

Second shot—

Swish.

73 - 81

Final 10 seconds.

Tsukasa rushed up.

Launched a desperate three.

Off.

Taiga grabbed the rebound.

BZZZZZT.

Final buzzer.

Rakuzan 73 - Horizon 81

...

The stadium exploded.

Dirga exhaled.

Flow State faded—but the moment burned in.

They had done it.

Without perfect strategy.

They’d fought tooth and nail—and won.

And somewhere in the stands—

Scouts, coaches, rivals—

Watched.

And whispered one word:

"Horizon."

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