Aizawa exhaled.
Deep. Steady.
Not a gasp for air—
A breath in rhythm.
Minato glanced at him from across the court.
No smirk.
No glare.
Just the smallest nod.
Something between recognition… and warning.
…
Wolves possession.
Gaito brought the ball up—fingers tight on the seams.
His dribble wasn't loose anymore. It was loaded.
Dirga shadowed him just past the arc. Calm. Calculating.
Gaito passed to Haru. Swing to Minato—top of the key.
Aizawa waited.
Minato caught, squared, and attacked—
One dribble.
Two.
Spin move.
Rise.
But Aizawa was glued to him.
No bite. No overstep.
Minato released anyway—
Short.
Clink.
The rebound arced high.
Rikuya boxed out clean, elbows wide.
Caught it. Secured. Flipped it to Dirga.
Dirga crossed halfcourt and slowed.
No sprint.
Just pace.
He raised one hand. No words. Only signal.
Taiga responded—slipped screen high.
Rei cut baseline, pulling Haru with him.
The Wolves tried to rotate.
Dirga faked left—
