Coach Tsugawa added, voice low but firm—
"Time to conduct."
…
The substitution felt like a pressure valve being turned.
Dirga stepped back onto the court.
Not just as a point guard—
But as a signal.
A change in frequency.
The other players stayed in their positions:
Rei at the two.
Aizawa at small forward.
Taiga in the four.
Rikuya anchoring the paint.
But all eyes shifted to him.
The Maestro had returned.
Dirga didn't waste time.
He didn't look at the bench.
Didn't call a play.
Didn't raise a finger.
Because right now?
He wasn't thinking.
He was feeling.
He let his instincts guide him.
The ball touched his hands—
And he was already moving.
A blur of motion. A ghost threading through the seams.
He attacked the lane.
No hesitation.
No plan.
Just rhythm, raw and unscripted.
But Seiryuu?
They weren't the same team from the first half.
They didn't just have data on Horizon's tactics anymore.
They had Dirga's patterns.
How he dribbled under pressure.
