The arena was still buzzing when play resumed.
Not cheering.
Not chanting.
A low, restless hum—like everyone was holding their breath.
Marcus rolled his shoulders as he jogged into position, jaw tight, pulse steadying. The Dragon's roar still echoed in his ears—not the dunk, not the score, but the message behind it.
That wasn't a play.
That was hierarchy.
Yuuto bounced the ball once at the baseline before inbounding, eyes briefly meeting Marcus's.
They didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
Hakuro reset on defense like nothing monumental had just happened.
And that was when Marcus felt it.
Hiroto Mae shifted in front of him—stance low, feet light, arms loose.
Waiting.
Not chasing.
Not reacting.
Just… ready.
Marcus narrowed his eyes.
So you're the real problem.
Everyone had come into this game talking about Ryu Kazen.
The red aura. The unblinking eyes. The king at the top of the court.
But Marcus knew better now.
Ryu controlled the flow.
Hiroto controlled you.
