The court felt different when both teams lined up.
Not louder.
Not quieter.
Heavier.
It was the kind of weight that pressed down on the chest without warning—the kind that made breathing feel deliberate instead of natural. The polished hardwood of the national arena reflected the overhead lights like a flawless mirror, white beams stretching endlessly across the floor, but no one was looking down. Not the fans. Not the players. Not even the officials.
Thousands of eyes were locked onto the two straight lines of players facing each other at midcourt.
Seiryō High on one side.
Hakuro Academy on the other.
Banners hung high above the stands—national qualifiers, past champions, legends carved into cloth and memory. The crowd buzzed in a low, restless hum, anticipation sharpened to a blade's edge. Commentators murmured into their headsets. Cameras hovered like vultures, waiting for the first drop of blood.
