The moment didn't announce itself with thunder.

It came quietly—like a pulse.

The second quarter was grinding on, the scoreboard still leaning in Hakuro Academy's favor, the pressure thick enough to taste. Seiryō wasn't collapsing, but they weren't comfortable either. Every possession felt like walking a narrow bridge over open air.

Yuuto Kai wiped his palms on his shorts and exhaled slowly.

Focus.

The ball was checked in. Shinji inbounded it cleanly, and Yuuto took the first dribble across half court. The noise of the arena washed over him—chants, boos, shouts—but it all felt distant, like he was hearing it underwater.

Across from him stood Ryu Kurogane.

King of the Court.

Red aura faint, controlled, eyes sharp and amused.

Ryu tilted his head slightly. "You're still coming at me?" he asked, voice calm enough to sting.

Yuuto didn't answer.

He dribbled.

Once.

Twice.

Something clicked.

Not a system message.

Not a flashing UI.

Not a voice.

Just… rhythm.

The bounce of the ball lined up with his heartbeat.

Thump.

Thump.

Yuuto's pupils narrowed.

The court felt smaller.

The players clearer.

He noticed things he hadn't before—how Ryu's weight rested slightly more on his back foot, how his shoulders stayed relaxed even when ready to explode, how his dribble timing wasn't constant but intentional.

Daniel's words surfaced in his mind from countless defensive drills.

Don't watch the eyes. Don't watch the hands.

Watch the hips.

Yuuto shifted his stance unconsciously.

On Seiryō's bench, Coach Hikari leaned forward. His expression sharpened.

"…There," he murmured.

Ryu dribbled right.

Yuuto slid with him.

Ryu crossed left.

Yuuto stayed.

The crowd began to stir.

Hakuro's wing players—Hiroto, Minato, Ren—adjusted their spacing automatically, the machine recalibrating. Hiroto's gold aura shimmered faintly as he prepared to receive the ball.

Ryu smirked. "Still too slow."

He accelerated.

Not full speed.

Just enough.

Yuuto reacted—

And then something snapped into place.

The dribble's rhythm changed.

Thump—pause—thump.

The ball stayed lower.

Closer.

Alive.

A sensation surged up Yuuto's arm, into his chest, spreading outward like a ripple in water.

Pulse Dribble — Activated (Incomplete)

Yuuto didn't hear the words.

He felt them.

The ball moved with him, not ahead of him.

Ryu lunged to cut him off—

And Yuuto slipped past.

Clean.

Sharp.

Impossible.

For half a second, Ryu was behind him.

Yuuto Kai had passed the King of the Court.

The arena exploded.

Not with cheers.

With rage.

"What?!"

"No way!"

"That's a foul!"

"BS—REF!"

Hakuro supporters leapt to their feet, voices crashing together in disbelief and anger. Booing thundered down from the stands like a wave.

Ryu skidded to a stop and turned, eyes wide.

Then—

He laughed.

A genuine, excited laugh.

"Oh," he said softly. "There it is."

Yuuto didn't slow down.

Hiroto rotated instantly, gold aura flaring as he stepped into Yuuto's path. Minato slid over to cut the lane. Ren closed from behind.

Three defenders.

Yuuto's mind raced—but his body didn't panic.

Pulse.

He planted his foot and snapped a pass behind his back.

The ball zipped through the narrowest window imaginable.

Marcus caught it on the wing.

Shot.

Clang—

Bounce—

In.

The Seiryō bench erupted.

"LET'S GO!" Marcus roared, fist pumping.

Shunjin slammed both hands into the air. "HE COOKED HIM!"

Daichi stared at Yuuto like he was seeing him for the first time. "He… he really did it."

On the sidelines, Itsuki, Seiryō's analytical ace, adjusted his glasses rapidly. "That wasn't speed. That wasn't strength. That was timing. He disrupted Ryu's rhythm."

Coach Takeda didn't smile.

But his eyes burned.

Hakuro inbounded immediately.

Ryu took the ball again, aura pulsing just a bit brighter now.

"So," he said as he crossed half court, voice low, thrilled. "You finally woke up."

Yuuto dropped into his stance, chest rising and falling.

"I don't know what this is yet," Yuuto replied honestly. "But I'm not giving it back."

Ryu grinned. "Good."

The next possession was brutal.

Ryu attacked harder, forcing contact, dragging Yuuto through screens set by Shunpei Kanda. Yuuto stumbled once, nearly lost balance—but recovered, instincts guiding him where thought couldn't.

Daniel rotated perfectly, cutting off the drive.

Ryu passed.

Hiroto caught and scored anyway.

Hakuro still answered.

But something had changed.

The certainty was gone.

Whispers rippled through the arena.

"Did you see that dribble?"

"That wasn't luck."

"Who is that kid?"

On Hakuro's bench, Minato frowned. "Ryu got beat."

Ren crossed his arms. "Once."

Hiroto's eyes stayed on Yuuto. "Once is enough to change the equation."

Back on the court, Yuuto's hands trembled slightly as he dribbled again. The Pulse Dribble flickered—strong one moment, unstable the next. He lost control briefly, forcing Shinji to recover the ball.

Shinji leaned in. "You good?"

Yuuto nodded. "Yeah. Just… adjusting."

Another possession.

Another attempt.

Yuuto tried to force the move again—

And failed.

Ryu cut him off effortlessly this time, stealing the ball clean.

"That's the gap," Ryu said as he went by. "You touched the door. You didn't open it."

Hakuro scored.

But Ryu's eyes shone.

Not with arrogance.

With anticipation.

The crowd was still loud—angrier now, divided—but the narrative had cracked.

Seiryō wasn't just resisting.

They were evolving.

As the quarter wound down, Yuuto caught his breath, chest tight, mind racing.

Pulse Dribble flickered again, faint but present.

First phase.

Incomplete.

Unstable.

But real.

Coach Hikari met his eyes from the bench and tapped his temple.

Remember this feeling.

Yuuto clenched his fist.

He hadn't just crossed Ryu.

He'd crossed a line.

And the King of the Court had noticed.

The game would never slow down again.

The whistle shrilled, sharp and cutting, signaling a brief stoppage in play.

Yuuto bent forward, hands on his knees, breath coming in short pulls. Sweat dripped from his chin onto the hardwood, each drop a reminder that his body was still catching up to what his instincts had just done.

That wasn't luck.

He knew it.

But it wasn't mastery either.

The Pulse Dribble still lingered in his palms like static—there one second, slipping the next. His fingers twitched, trying to remember the exact pressure, the exact rhythm that had let him slip past Ryu even once.

Across from him, Ryu rolled his shoulders, eyes never leaving Yuuto.

"You're shaking," Ryu said lightly. "That means your body doesn't understand yet. But your instincts do."

Yuuto straightened, forcing his breathing to slow. "I'll catch up."

Ryu's grin widened. "Good. Because I don't like boring games."

The ball was inbounded again. Hakuro moved instantly, gears clicking back into place. Minato flared to the corner. Ren cut through the lane. Hiroto floated just outside the arc, gold aura calm and steady—watching Yuuto, not the ball.

Seiryō adjusted.

Daniel barked commands. "Switch on screens! Yuuto—don't chase the ball, chase the rhythm!"

Yuuto nodded, even though his chest still burned.

Hakuro ran a staggered screen. Ryu used it, changing pace—slow, slow—

Then snap.

Acceleration.

Yuuto reacted half a beat late.

Ryu blew past him, red aura flaring brighter as he attacked the paint. Daichi stepped up to contest, arms high, discipline flawless—but Ryu hung in the air just long enough to slip a pass under Daichi's arm.

Hiroto caught.

Shot.

Swish.

The crowd roared again, half fury, half awe.

Hakuro 45.

Seiryō 35.

Ryu backpedaled, eyes still locked on Yuuto. "See? That's the difference. You touch the rhythm. I own it."

Yuuto clenched his jaw.

Not yet, he corrected silently.

Seiryō's possession.

Shinji brought the ball up this time, giving Yuuto a moment to reset. Marcus cut hard off-ball, dragging Ren with him. Shunjin posted up, forcing Kanda to anchor inside.

Yuuto watched.

Not the ball.

The spacing.

Daniel's training echoed again in his head.

Hips tell the truth. Feet lie. Eyes deceive.

Yuuto slid into the passing lane before Shinji even looked.

"Yuuto!" Shinji snapped.

The pass came.

Yuuto caught it cleanly.

Ryu closed fast.

Too fast.

Yuuto didn't force the dribble this time.

Instead, he let the Pulse flicker—just once.

A short, sharp bounce.

Not to beat Ryu.

To freeze him.

Ryu hesitated.

Just a fraction.

Yuuto fired a laser pass to Daichi under the rim.

Daichi dunked with both hands.

The arena erupted.

Not anger this time.

Shock.

Seiryō's bench exploded to its feet.

"That's it!" Shunjin yelled. "That's the play!"

Coach Takeda slammed his fist into his palm. "Yes! Read, don't rush!"

Yuuto landed, heart hammering. The Pulse Dribble faded again, leaving his hands buzzing, but his mind was clearer than ever.

I don't need to dominate yet.

I just need to connect the pieces.

Ryu stared at him, expression unreadable.

Then he nodded.

Slow.

Respectful.

"…You're dangerous," Ryu admitted. "Not because you're strong. Because you're learning during the fight."

Yuuto met his gaze. "And you're not slowing down."

Ryu chuckled. "Never."

The crowd buzzed with tension now, voices layered over each other.

"That kid crossed Ryu earlier."

"He's not backing down."

"Is Seiryō actually adapting?"

Hiroto stepped closer to Ryu, voice low. "Be careful. His awareness is expanding. He's not copying anymore."

Ryu's smile sharpened. "Good. Then I'll raise the pace."

The scoreboard ticked down.

The quarter wasn't over.

And Yuuto Kai—still shaking, still incomplete—stood at the edge of something irreversible.

The first phase had awakened.

And the King of the Court was no longer playing alone.

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