The flashbang clinked to the ground—then exploded in a burst of blinding white.
Students staggered, groaning, stumbling, shielding their eyes as ringing filled their ears.
Through the daze, someone moved—fast, fluid, effortless. A side kick knocked one student off their feet. Takumi spun with the momentum, sweeping another flat. His roundhouse cut a clean arc through the haze, like he was dancing with the air itself.
And as the light faded, there he stood—scythe slung casually over his shoulder, dust swirling around his boots.
"You guys really need to work on your situational awareness," he said, flashing the kind of grin that made you want to hit him on principle.
A curved blade sliced the air near his face. Takumi tilted back just enough to avoid it, retreating a few steps as a war axe came swinging in.
He stabbed his scythe into the ground like a vaulting pole, hoisting himself into a graceful spin that landed him cleanly a few feet away. Arms spread. Mild bow.
"Hey, hey—we're all friends here, yeah? Let's settle this with words."
His smirk said otherwise.
The two attackers circled him, eyes narrowed.
"No? Fine. Democracy's overrated anyway."
They charged.
Takumi yanked the scythe loose, spinning low as steel clashed. He caught both weapons with a sweeping parry, throwing them off-balance. Before they could blink, two small orbs skittered across the floor before zapping in a surge of electricity.
The attackers seized, limbs locking, then collapsed like puppets with their strings cut.
Takumi gave a casual salute and turned his back on them. "Glad we could clear the air."
"That was not a conversation..." one of them wheezed from the floor.
They dissolved into flickers of cyan light, teleported out of the field along with the rest of the knocked-out. Some groaned. Others argued.
Takumi barely noticed. His eyes were already drifting to the left—where someone else was putting on a very different kind of show.
Liene danced backward, her kyoketsu-shoge's blade deflecting an attacker with effortless grace. She spun the weapon like an extension of herself, the rope gaining momentum before she released it—sending another student stumbling.
Her gaze found Takumi as she closed the distance, a playful smile curving her lips.
"Small world," she purred, eyebrow arched.
"Wish it was bigger…" Takumi muttered, though his smirk betrayed him.
A dagger sliced the air between them, embedding in the floor. They turned toward the source—a duo approaching fast. One flipped another blade between their fingers; the other knelt, rifle already raised.
Gunfire erupted, forcing Takumi and Liene apart. Another knife tore through the spot where Takumi had just been, the near-miss making him rethink his landing.
As the gun clicked dry, Liene moved. In one fluid motion, her kyoketsu-shoge began to spin—faster, tighter—before she launched it like a meteor. The knife-wielder deflected it just in time.
But Takumi was already beneath the gunner, sliding low. He kicked the rifle skyward; the shot went wide, but the stock clipped him in the chest, knocking him back.
Liene seized the moment. She yanked the weapon back, twirling through the air as the rope unfurled from her pouch. The hook began to glow—her Nautilus Hook Stellar Skill activating. Bullets and daggers flew around her, but the glowing hook tore through the chaos, striking true. She landed in a crouch, blade buried in the floor as the rope tangled around both opponents.
Takumi's grease trap triggered, turning their frantic resistance into an unceremonious slide right out of the arena. He dusted himself off and strolled forward like he'd just clocked out of work.
"They say not to run in school," he mused, resting his head lazily against his scythe. "But does anyone listen? Nooo…"
"Oh, hush. Like you did all the heavy lifting," Liene said with a soft chuckle, her tone soaked in sarcasm.
"Ah, ah, ah." Takumi wagged a finger, leaning in with theatrical flair. "The gentleman takes the spotlight while the lady swoons from the sidelines."
He spread his arms with a dramatic flourish, striking a pose like he'd just finished a Broadway number.
Liene's laugh rang out—light, melodic, and thoroughly amused. "My, my… always the showman, aren't you?"
Meanwhile, Claire fidgeted at the arena's edge, fingers drumming an anxious rhythm against her bow. All around her, the freshman class tournament had erupted into chaos—nearly sixty students locked in fierce combat. She winced at every clash and explosion, eyes darting between potential targets without settling on any.
"Um, okay Claire, you can do this," she mumbled, wiping her palms on her pants for the third time. "Just pick someone and—eep!"
A blur of movement cut her off—a student charging straight at her with a double-headed spear. Without thinking, Claire's body moved on its own. Her draw was smooth as silk, the arrow flying in a perfect arc. Only after she loosed it did her mind catch up, startled by her own precision.
The spear-wielder ducked (of course they did, she groaned internally) and closed in. Claire stumbled back, nearly tripping over her own feet. "W-wait, can we talk about—"
A sharp whistle of air was her only warning. Her body twisted again, moving with an instinctive grace that completely contradicted her stammered words. A leaf-shaped projectile sliced through the space where her head had been moments earlier. She blinked, startled.
"Oh! That was actually kind of co—" Her self-congratulation cut short as she caught the follow-up strike. Claire dropped and rolled, the motion flowing like water. Her hands hit the ground and pushed off, launching into a backflip that would've made her instructor proud—if only they could see her when she wasn't overthinking everything.
The satisfaction lasted all of two seconds.
Vines burst from the earth, wrapping around her ankles. As they yanked her into a dizzying spin, Claire's graceful instincts and natural awkwardness had a brief civil war.
"This is fine! Everything's totally—oh no oh no oh no!" The last part came out in a squeak as the vines released, flinging her toward the boundary. But mid-flight, something clicked. Her hand shot to her quiver, fingers finding the arrow with the attached string by touch alone.
The shot was perfect—another flash of that mysterious combat grace she somehow possessed.
Using the tethered arrow as an anchor, Claire swung in a wide arc, momentum carrying her into a smooth circle that ended in a crouch. One hand gripped the arrow shaft while the other nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Um, hi again?" she managed, giving a small wave that completely undercut the impressive acrobatics she'd just pulled off. "That was... meant to happen. Totally meant to happen."
The spearman's eyes narrowed, unimpressed.
They charged. But Claire's fidgeting hands steadied in an instant, her movements shifting from jittery to fluid. She drew and loosed the next arrow in a single motion—instinctive, clean, precise. The shot pinned her opponent's shoulder to the ground. Claire blinked.
"Oh! I actually hit—"
A flash of green interrupted her celebration. Their partner was already closing in, a gleaming leaf blade slicing toward her. Claire dropped low in a graceful duck, moving like someone else entirely. Another arrow was in her hands before she had time to think—drawn, fired, hit.
The impact sent the attacker flying past the arena's edge, vanishing in a flash of light along with the first. Teleported safely out.
As silence fell, Claire's shoulders slumped like someone had snipped her strings. She dropped to her knees, chest heaving.
"Did... did I really just do all that?"
Getting up to retrieve the embedded arrow felt like the longest walk of her life. Her fingers trembled as she yanked it free, nearly dropping it twice before sliding it back into her quiver. Her face burned. How many people had just seen all that—both the fight... and the clumsy cleanup?
"Aw geez, what have I gotten myself into?" she muttered, hugging her arms.
Her eyes scanned the arena, searching for any sign of her mysteriously absent teammate. "This would be a really great time for you to show up... anyone? No? Just me then? Great."
She sighed, recalling how she'd split from Takumi, Liene, and Rose to avoid facing them. Her gaze drifted to Kazuki's empty seat, and without thinking, she began twirling a strand of yellow hair—a nervous habit she still couldn't shake.
Moving forward into the arena, arms swinging listlessly at her sides, Claire found herself scanning the crowd for Kazuki—despite her best efforts.
"Stop that," she muttered, giving her cheeks a light smack.
"I can do this, I can do this, I can do this..." The words tumbled out in a rushed whisper, trying to drown the anxiety crawling up her throat.
Darui's sharp clap cracked through her mantra, cutting off the buzz of excited chatter. He launched into the rules, but her mind drifted. She only caught bits and pieces.
"Border... elimination... teammate goes too..." she echoed under her breath. And then it clicked—if she messed up, Kazuki got kicked out too.
Her hands clenched. "Wait, why should I care? He won't even talk to me, capisce?!"
A fireball zipped past her head. She dodged without thinking, body moving on autopilot while her thoughts spiraled.
"Like I even care anymore. Let him complain if I don't—" She bit her lip, recalling how he'd saved her. Twice. Her irritation only deepened. "Seriously, couldn't it have been someone normal? Brave? Maybe someone who doesn't look like a walking horror novel?"
An arrow whistled toward her. She caught it midair without blinking and tucked it into her quiver. Rose's beaming face popped into her head, still glowing from their entrance exam win.
"Ugh," she groaned, shoulders drooping. "Can't disappoint her, huh? Geez, Rose... guess I gotta see this through. Capisce?"
A reluctant smile tugged at her lips before she shook it off and tried to focus. "Non-lethal combat… thirty minutes… performance evaluation… teamwork development…" Her eyes rolled hard. "Right. Teamwork. With Mr. 'Communication Is a Sin'? Sure."
The image of Kazuki surrounded by angry cartoon flames made her snort.
"And something about this being different from the Starfield… fighting Akumos… whatever." She waved a hand vaguely. "I already forgot half of it."
The shimmering arena border flickered as Darui's spell locked it into place. Claire stared at the countdown—twelve minutes left.
She let out a deep breath and stepped backward.
And collided straight into someone.
Her heart jumped into her throat as she turned. Kazuki.
Of course it had to be Kazuki.
He barely spared her a sideways glance, expression unreadable as ever, before turning his gaze back toward the fight.
Standing back-to-back amid the chaos, Claire felt her thoughts unravel. Her hands trembled on her bow, sweat prickling across her forehead. The silence stretched between them like a physical wall.
Her brain, desperate for escape, short-circuited — and chose the worst possible topic.
"Hey, uh, do you think cats dream about us?"
The words tumbled out in a high-pitched rush that made her want to dissolve into the ground.
"…What?"
Even Kazuki's usual blankness cracked with disbelief.
"I just— I mean, they sleep so much. Like, all the time." Her hands flailed uselessly as she tried to explain. "You think they see us in their dreams? Or is it just mice and... string?"
She rubbed her bow against her forehead in defeat. "Forget it."
"…Huh?" Kazuki blinked. "What?"
Claire's soul quietly left her body. "I mean—I dunno…"
But Kazuki's sudden shift snapped her back to reality. His posture tensed. A metallic click rang across the arena — the unmistakable sound of a rifle being reloaded.
Before she could process it, his hand clamped around hers.
"—Heh?!"
Her squeak was cut off as he yanked her to the side. A gunshot split the air where they'd just stood.
Claire stumbled after him, still caught somewhere between cats and chaos.
Kazuki's blade met a bullet mid-air with a sharp clang. He ducked low, dragging Claire down as five more rounds tore through the space above.
Through the blur, she spotted them — a rifleman lining up another shot, and a revolver-wielder snapping his chamber shut.
Claire's mouth hung open. Her brain was short-circuiting, but somehow her legs kept moving in sync with Kazuki's. "Uh—hey!" she squeaked, voice cracking mid-word as her body weaved instinctively around stray fire. Her hand was still in his. Which, honestly, was a bigger crisis than the bullets.
Of all people. Why him? Why now?
Her mind fizzed like an unplugged monitor. Was she supposed to say something? Let go? Were her palms—oh god, were they sweaty?
Steel rang against steel, slicing through her spiraling thoughts. Kazuki's blade met a bullet midair with almost lazy efficiency. Four more shots followed, pinging off his sword like it was just another Tuesday. The only reaction he gave was a barely-there narrowing of his eyes.
"Eep—!" Claire jerked sideways as a round zipped past her cheek. She tripped over her own feet, caught herself in a clumsy half-lunge. "Totally meant to do that," she muttered, mostly to gravity.
Kazuki didn't look back, but something flickered behind his gaze. His shoulder bumped hers—light as a nudge—just as a trio of massive boulders thundered toward them from someone else's very loud problem.
"Wait, what are y—" Claire's protest ended in a squeak as Kazuki jumped—jumped—onto the first boulder like it was a stepping stone.
"You can't just—that's not how—get back here!" she shouted, flailing an arm that nearly smacked her in the face.
Then something clicked. Her breathing evened. Her footing stabilized. And without thinking, she launched after him.
Kazuki didn't slow down. Didn't look surprised. Just gave a single nod—barely a twitch—like her being there was inevitable.
They ran along the curved surface, using the rolling stone as makeshift cover while their enemies scrambled to reposition. The wind whipped through his hair. Claire, trailing half a step behind, couldn't help but glare.
"Next time," she said between breaths, "maybe tell a girl when she's about to parkour into chaos?"
Kazuki raised a single eyebrow, not missing a beat.
She scowled. "Right. Forgot who I was talking to."
Claire stumbled after Kazuki, her legs wobbling like a newborn fawn's as she clutched her bow. Her knuckles went white on the grip—part determination, part sheer terror. Above her, Kazuki was already running diagonally up the boulder's curve, each step precise and measured.
"Oh no oh no oh nooooooo!" Claire wailed, launching herself after him. Her yellow hair whipped across her face like a curtain, heart thundering in her chest—fear, adrenaline, and something else that felt dangerously like excitement.
Kazuki pivoted sharply, using his sword as a counterweight to flip onto the third boulder. Claire's eyes widened. Her body moved before her brain caught up, following him into the air.
"This was a terrible ideaaaa—!"
Time stretched like honey. Kazuki twisted through incoming bullets, each movement as fluid as water. Claire crash-landed on the boulder behind him, arms windmilling wildly. A glimpse of the ground below stole her breath—they were high. Too high.
Then Kazuki rolled cleanly to his feet, sword already raised.
Claire followed with significantly less grace, face-planting into the dirt with a muffled "oof." She lay there, spitting out grass and trying to remember how breathing worked.
Frustration bubbled up through the embarrassment. She pushed to her knees, blowing hair out of her face as she glared at Kazuki's back. "You could've warned me! Or, I don't know, explained literally anything?!"
"Stay." The word dropped from his lips like a stone, his eyes locked on their opponents.
"Stay? What am I, a—"
The rest vanished in a yelp as Kazuki launched forward, the force of his movement sending her hair flying.
"Hey! We are so having words about this later!" she shouted after him, then muttered, "Assuming my dignity survives this match."
Kazuki surged toward their attackers with liquid precision, his blade dancing through the hail of bullets like they were moving in slow motion. His face didn't change—every dodge was just another problem solved, another line in an equation.
The duo split. The revolver-wielder drew a dagger in one smooth motion—steel met steel with a harsh clash as Kazuki deflected the strike, sending the blade spinning into the dirt. But before he could counter, they tackled him, driving him to the ground with their full weight.
Claire's fingers fumbled with her bow. The rifle-wielder's weapon was starting to glow, mana coiling like smoke around the barrel. Her heart pounded. She tried to nock an arrow—dropped it. Tried again. It finally clicked into place.
"Lucky you," the rifleman drawled, their voice thick with smug pride. "You're the first to see my new stellar skill... Bullet Storm."
"Oh," Kazuki said, like he'd spotted an oddly shaped cloud.
"Move!" Claire's voice cracked. She yanked the bowstring back, hands trembling. "Kazuki, get out of there!"
The arrow flew. It struck the rifleman's shoulder with a solid thunk. They grunted but didn't stop, the weapon's glow pulsing brighter, a deep hum rising from it.
Claire stumbled forward, panic clenching her throat. Kazuki didn't move. He lay still beneath his opponent, staring up at the glowing rifle like he was just... observing.
Then, suddenly, he snapped his head back. A crack—the revolver-wielder reeled, clutching their face. Kazuki shoved them off just as the rifle fired.
The blast split the air. Bullets exploded from the barrel in a roaring stream, shredding the dirt. Claire froze, breath held.
Kazuki moved.
Step by step, precise and fluid, he walked through the chaos. Bullets tore past him—left, right, overhead—but none touched him. He weaved through the storm like a leaf drifting between raindrops.
The rifleman's grin faltered. Then vanished.
Kazuki closed the distance. His hand snapped out, seizing the glowing barrel. Steam hissed between his fingers—but his eyes, cold and gray, never wavered.
A twist. The rifle wrenched free and spun to the ground.
One clean strike—sharp, surgical—dropped the rifleman in a heap.
Silence fell.
Claire stood frozen, bow limp at her side, mouth open but no sound coming out.
Kazuki didn't look back. "Disappointed..." he muttered, already turning away.
Claire watched, transfixed, as Kazuki sheathed his sword with practiced ease. The metallic click echoed faintly as their opponents dissolved into cyan particles, teleported back to the bleachers. Her arrow dropped to the floor with a hollow clatter, landing where the rifleman had stood just moments ago.
The knot in her stomach tightened.
Every move he made had been calculated. Clean. Inevitable.
Meanwhile, she'd—what, yelled something about cats and barely kept from eating dirt? Real graceful. She might as well have been watching the match from orbit.
Her gaze flicked upward. The timer was still running. This wasn't over.
She didn't register the footsteps until they stopped beside her.
Kazuki.
Claire jolted slightly. He was already there, close enough to hear her heartbeat if it had a megaphone.
He wasn't looking directly at her—just past her, like something over her shoulder was more interesting. In his hand, extended toward her without ceremony, was her arrow.
"I think you dropped this," he said, tone flat but not cold.
"Oh—uh—yeah. That's—mine. Arrow. Right." Her voice broke halfway through the sentence, like her brain had tripped on a staircase.
She reached out too fast, misjudged the angle, and had to adjust. Her fingers brushed against his palm—once, twice—before she managed to grab it without flinging it into the stratosphere. Probably.
"Thanks," she mumbled, voice thin.
Kazuki gave a small nod. Not quite dismissive. Just... done.
Then, without a word, he turned to leave.
"Aw geez," Claire muttered under her breath — part shy cringe, part quiet frustration. Of course he was already moving on. Why wouldn't he?
But he didn't keep walking.
Kazuki stopped, his back still to her, eyes fixed on something in the distance — or maybe nothing at all. Whatever he saw, it wasn't here.
The silence stretched, not heavy, but… thin. As if the air itself was holding its breath.
Claire clutched the arrow a little tighter, unsure whether to say something or just stand there and dissolve into the floor as she opened her mouth—curiosity accidentally overriding her social anxiety for a microsecond—but the floor cut her off by launching skyward.
"Wha—!" Her yelp was swallowed by the sudden jolt as the arena shifted beneath them. The ground shot upward, platforms rearranging like someone had flipped the battlefield into hard mode. All around, students scrambled to adjust. She spotted Liene and Takumi already moving, dropping into stances with casual readiness.
Claire… did not drop into a stance. She dropped.
Right onto her elbow.
"OW—ow ow ow—" She blew her bangs from her face as she tried to push herself up, the platform still rising beneath her like a rebellious elevator.
Meanwhile, Kazuki didn't budge. One hand on his sword hilt, eyes scanning the chaos like he was watching a training simulation on fast-forward.
"Since when does the arena do this?!" she barked, wobbling to her feet. Her knees were jelly. She looked like a cartoon crash test dummy.
And Kazuki?
He remained still, a figure carved from silence — unreadable as ever, eyes distant like a sky just before the rain.
Claire, meanwhile…
Her mind was a jittering blur of half-formed thoughts and anxious noise, like a radio tuned just slightly off station.
The arena shuddered to a halt, sending a wave of fatigue through everyone present. Claire crouched low, the world still spinning as she struggled to catch her breath beside the impossibly steady Kazuki.
"Just... checking... legs still attached?" she mumbled, more to herself than anyone else.
"Remarkably, yes." Kazuki's flat tone carried the faintest trace of dry humor.
"Oh goooooood..." Claire gave a wobbly thumbs-up—then let her arm flop back down. Several seconds passed before her brain caught up and registered who had answered her.
As her vision cleared, the transformed battlefield snapped into focus. Students lay scattered across the platforms—some groaning, others retching. But even through the dizziness, the fighting resumed. Pairs of combatants staggered upright, seizing the moment to claim victory while they could.
Then the floor began to crumble.
"No no no—" Claire scrambled to her feet as the edges dissolved into nothing. Around her, students fled or fell, vanishing in flashes of cyan light as they tumbled from the arena.
A metallic ring cut through the chaos. She spun toward the sound just in time to see Kazuki deflect a scimitar strike with his left hand. His movements were precise, rehearsed, like the falling floor wasn't even there. He pressed forward, step by exact step, blade ready.
Something shifted at the edge of her vision.
Claire turned—too slow—just as the gleam of a two-handed blade filled her vision.
Steel met steel with a ringing clang, the sound sharp enough to rattle her teeth.
Kazuki's sword struck the ground between her and her attacker. She blinked.
"Huh?"
Before the moment could register, a fireball streaked past her, blasting the attacker back. Claire's body moved on instinct—bow up, arrow drawn and notched in one fluid sweep. Her aim settled on a blue-haired boy standing with both hands raised.
"Whoa, easy! Just trying to help!" His nervous smile didn't help steady her aim.
"With explosions?" Her voice wavered, but the arrow didn't.
"You looked like you could use a hand... that's all!" he stammered.
Claire narrowed her eyes. Something about him tugged at her memory. Kazuki appeared beside her again, sword retrieved and poised—his presence grounding her even as her thoughts spun.
And then—
His hand closed around hers.
"Wha—?!" she squeaked, just as he yanked her back from the crumbling ledge at her heels.
She stumbled, yanking her hand free, annoyance bubbling up as she matched his stride.
"Ever heard of asking first?!" She shook a fist at him, cheeks puffed. "Normal people say things like 'Hey, watch out!' or 'The floor's disappearing!'"
Kazuki kept his gaze ahead. "Either way, you would have been pulled to safety."
"That's—you're missing the entire—ugh!" Claire threw her hands up, nearly smacking herself with her own bow. "Being right isn't the same as being nice, you know!"
His eyes flicked toward her for the briefest moment. "I… I don't know what you mean." The slight hitch in his otherwise steady voice landed with unexpected force.
Claire blinked. Words rose to her lips, then faltered, that brief slip in his armor leaving her caught off guard.
But the ground kept falling.
They moved in unspoken rhythm—his sword carving through debris and enemies alike, her arrows dropping threats before they got too close. A pattern neither had planned, but fell into effortlessly.
And yet—something tugged at her thoughts. A whisper she couldn't ignore, no matter how hard she focused on surviving.
Her eyes drifted toward Kazuki's profile. Always so unreadable. Always just out of reach.
"You again... always you..." she murmured. The words slipped out without meaning to, barely more than breath.
Kazuki saw the movement of her lips. His expression didn't shift—but his grip on his sword tightened, ever so slightly.
The only sign he might have heard.
Or that it meant anything at all.