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.

Sho Amakusa dribbled lazily at half-court, his movements surgical and slow. The court revolved around him. "Formation Sigma," he said softly.

Marcus's heart skipped a beat. Again.

Easton shifted, their spacing perfect. Itsuki took position near the arc, golden eyes glowing faintly. Renji locked into the paint, calm as still water. Ajax lurked baseline, ready to pounce.

But it wasn't Sho who struck first this time.

It was Itsuki.

A single glance.

A half-step forward.

And suddenly, he wasn't guarding Marcus he was reading Yuuto.

Swipe!

The ball was gone before Yuuto realized. Itsuki pivoted, almost dancing, before firing a no-look pass to Ajax.

Slam!

76–65.

The gym erupted.

"ITSUKI TAKASHIMA STRIKES AGAIN!" the announcer shouted, voice drowned in the storm of cheers.

"That's the Watchtower Vision on full display predicting the play before it happens!"

Marcus's breath hitched. His Pulse his entire rhythm was being dismantled piece by piece.

Yuuto brought it up, his dribble steady, but frustration flickered beneath the calm. Renji stood tall before him, a wall of poise and precision.

Yuuto feinted right.

Step-back.

Pull-up three

Smack!

Renji's fingertips grazed the ball, altering its path just enough for it to clang off the rim.

Yuuto's jaw clenched. "Tch"

Renji caught the rebound, landing lightly. "It's not personal," he murmured.

Yuuto froze, thrown off. "What?"

Renji's voice carried quiet sincerity. "You're strong. I respect that. But I have to block you. That's my job."

That calmness the sheer composure made Yuuto's frustration twist deeper. His chest burned. He wanted to scream, to tear through that wall. But he couldn't shake the feeling that Renji was untouchable.

Marcus locked eyes with Sho again. This time, Sho didn't smirk. He studied Marcus as if testing him curious, not cruel.

"Let's see your rhythm, captain," Sho murmured.

He passed to Itsuki.

Itsuki's eyes gleamed. A flick of the wrist. The pass whipped to Daigo Easton's future ace who caught it mid-run and launched off one leg.

"Daigo, no!" Shunjin shouted, trying to contest.

Too late.

Slam.

78–65.

The rim rattled. The gym exploded.

Daigo landed with a grin wild, electric, confident. "That's what it means to finish, Shunjin!"

Shunjin's teeth clenched. "Don't get cocky."

Daigo chuckled, backing up into position. "Cocky? Nah. I'm just better. You're just a shadow of your captain."

Shunjin froze.

Those words stabbed deeper than they should have. "What did you say?"

Daigo's smirk widened. "You heard me. You talk big, but you're just following Marcus's beat. Without his rhythm, you're nothing."

The crowd oohed at the jab. The tension thickened, heavy like smoke.

Marcus saw Shunjin's eyes darken. His breathing changed shallow, angry. The Pulse trembled.

"Shunjin!" Marcus barked. "Don't take the bait!"

But Daigo had already struck the nerve.

Next play, Shunjin rushed his cut forced his angle. Daigo read it, slipped past, and swatted his layup attempt out of the air.

Thwack!

The ball bounced back into Yuuto's hands. Yuuto caught it, hesitated, and then pulled for three.

Clang!

Missed.

Renji grabbed the rebound effortlessly, his movement so smooth it almost looked rehearsed. He pivoted, passed to Sho, and the cycle repeated. Easton's rhythm cold, mechanical perfection continued to slice through Seiryō's chaotic Pulse.

Coach Aoyama shouted from the sideline. "Calm down! Stop reacting feel the rhythm!"

Marcus clenched his fists.

He wanted to. He really did.

But Itsuki was everywhere at once cutting passing lanes, anticipating their spacing, dismantling their plays before they began.

The next pass came.

Itsuki intercepted. Again.

Fast-break.

Layup.

80–65.

The crowd was thunder now. Sho's calm radiated across his team. Easton looked untouchable five parts moving in flawless synchrony.

Marcus turned toward his bench, chest heaving. His teammates looked at him, searching for a signal. He nodded slowly, voice steady.

"We're not done."

He turned to Shunjin.

"Forget Daigo's words. You're not my shadow. You're my light. Move like it."

Shunjin blinked stunned. His breathing steadied slightly. Yuuto gave him a small nod. "Let's show them your pride."

Marcus dribbled slowly. The tempo was different now less forced. He felt each bounce resonate with his team's steps.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

The Pulse.

He signaled silently. Shunjin cut baseline, brushing off Kento's screen. Yuuto rotated to the top. Daichi wrestled Renji in the post. Marcus passed to Yuuto, who redirected instantly to Shunjin. Catch. Elevate.

Swish.

80–68.

The gap shrank slightly, but meaningfully.

The crowd responded. The energy shifted. Seiryō's bench jumped to their feet.

Marcus exhaled sharply. The Pulse flickered again, faint but alive.

Sho advanced slowly, eyes scanning. "Itsuki. Control the rhythm."

Itsuki nodded. His eyes glowed gold. The Watchtower Vision activated again reading the tempo, dissecting Seiryō's angles.

But something was different.

Marcus had changed his spacing. Yuuto wasn't forcing. Shunjin was moving with controlled pride instead of ego.

Itsuki stepped forward, expecting a pass

Marcus spun behind his back instead, cutting the lane.

Yuuto found him instantly.

Layup good.

80–70.

Itsuki's eyes widened for the briefest moment. He hadn't predicted that.

Sho smirked. "There it is… the true Pulse."

Marcus exhaled. His lungs burned, but his heart was steady. "I told you," he murmured, more to himself than anyone. "We adapt."

Two minutes later.

The duel between Daigo and Shunjin intensified.

The Flash vs. The Calm.

Daigo's speed was raw lightning blinding acceleration, reckless energy. Shunjin's movement grew precise, measured. He began reading Daigo's tempo not trying to match it, but flowing around it.

Daigo charged, going for a dunk.

Shunjin jumped not to block, but to alter trajectory. Daigo's shot skimmed the rim. Missed.

Shunjin landed, chest heaving. "Pride doesn't mean perfection," he gasped. "It means standing tall even when I fall."

Marcus caught the rebound. He turned. Yuuto was open. Pass shot

Swish!

80–73!

The crowd roared. The Pulse vibrated through every Seiryō player like electricity.

Coach Aoyama clapped once, smiling faintly. "There it is. The heartbeat of a team."

But Easton responded.

Sho called the next play, voice steady.

"Itsuki. Daigo. Pattern Alpha."

Daigo smirked, spinning off Shunjin. Itsuki passed mid-motion no look, perfect timing. Daigo caught it and laid it in off-glass.

82–73.

Marcus gritted his teeth but smiled faintly. "Heh. Not bad."

Final minutes.

The scoreboard blinked 84–78. Seiryō was closing the gap, slowly, painfully. Every possession mattered. Every second felt eternal.

Yuuto finally broke through Renji's defense with a hesitation step and scored off the glass. Renji nodded once, murmuring, "Well done."

Marcus couldn't help but grin. "Even their calm is polite."

The tension peaked.

Crowd screaming. Coaches pacing. Sweat dripping.

Itsuki wiped his face, exhausted but determined. "I beat your Pulse once," he said quietly to Marcus. "I'll do it again."

Marcus met his golden gaze. "Maybe. But this time, it won't break. It'll evolve."

The ball found Marcus's hands. He didn't think. He felt.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Kento's screen.

Shunjin's cut.

Yuuto's drift.

Daichi's seal.

Every piece in motion this was the Pulse.

Alive. Flowing. Free.

Marcus drove, stopped mid-lane, and kicked it to Shunjin. Shunjin rose Daigo leapt to block but Shunjin hung just long enough. Release.

Swish.

84–81.

The crowd went wild.

Sho exhaled softly, a faint smile tugging his lips. "Now this," he said quietly, "is worth playing."

Marcus bent over, hands on knees, chest heaving. Shunjin clapped his back. Yuuto grinned faintly, sweat dripping into his eyes.

The Pulse was alive.

Bruised, battered but beating stronger than ever.

Sho turned to Itsuki, his tone low. "You read their rhythm. They'll adjust again."

Itsuki nodded, exhausted but smiling. "I want them to. That's what makes it fun."

Renji crossed his arms. "They're getting better. Fast."

Daigo wiped his face, chuckling. "Good. I like a challenge."

Sho's eyes glimmered with intrigue as he glanced toward Marcus and Yuuto.

"This isn't just basketball anymore," he murmured.

"This is evolution."

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