The timeout ended.
Yuuto was still on the floor.
Still breathing.
Still conscious.
But something had shifted in the air.
Not momentum.
Not fear.
Something colder.
Something inevitable.
Across the court, Ryu stood at half court, rolling the ball slowly between his palms.
No rush.
No irritation.
No ego.
Haruto walked up beside him—not hurried, not tense.
Just aligned.
For most of the game, Hakuro had operated like a machine.
Sharp. Efficient. Calculated.
Now—
It felt ceremonial.
Like two crowns being placed upon invisible heads.
Ryu glanced sideways.
"Ready?"
Haruto adjusted his wristband, eyes half-lidded.
"…I'll match your rhythm."
That was all.
No fist bump.
No strategy talk.
No need.
The whistle blew.
Hakuro inbounded.
And the court changed.
---
The First Movement — Rhythm
Ryu crossed half court without signaling a play.
No hand signs.
No eye contact.
He simply stepped left.
Haruto drifted right—half a beat delayed.
Not copying.
Harmonizing.
