They crossed the palace yard together, the stones glistening faintly where past training sessions had scarred them. Setsuna strolled ahead with his hands tucked loosely in his sleeves, while Kazuo lagged half a step behind, still rolling his shoulders from the morning's drills.
"How's training with Sora treating you?" Setsuna asked without looking back.
Kazuo exhaled through his nose. "She's quick. Hard to keep up with. Aqua Step helps, but… it still feels off. I can't keep balance for long in the air. Every time I try, it's like the ground disappears under me, and I end up wobbling like an idiot."
Setsuna's smirk widened as they entered the yard. "Figures. You come up with the strangest things just because you wanted to learn how to dodge midair. But hey—if it works, it works." He turned and tapped the tip of his sword against the stone. "My advice? Don't make it your plan. Keep it hidden. A surprise. Once people see it, they'll know how to tear it apart."
"What do you suggest?"
"Aqua Step isn't something you build a fight around," Setsuna went on. "It's a card you keep hidden. Once an enemy sees it, they'll adjust, and the advantage is gone. Think about your Riptide Cutter, or even your Arcane of Water — when you first unleashed them, no one had a counter. But the second they're revealed, the surprise wears off. Use Aqua Step the same way. Keep it sealed until it matters most."
He let the tip of his sword rest against the stone.
"Aoi's Esoteric Art will come whether you're ready or not. If you throw Aqua Step at him too early, he'll sniff it out, adapt, and crush you before you ever see the end. But if you keep it tucked away — if you make it your last resort — then when his strike falls, you'll have the one tool he won't see coming."
Kazuo gave a small nod. "You've got a point."
Setsuna spun his sword once and planted the tip lightly against the stone. Frost spread out in thin veins around it.
"All right. We'll run a simulation. I want you to cast Torrent on me. I'll use my ice to freeze your water the moment it leaves your hand. Your job is to redirect it before the freeze reaches you. Think of it as Aoi's lightning. It isn't as fast, but it'll do the job."
Kazuo nodded, summoning the familiar rush in his palm. The air thickened with moisture, droplets pulling together until a stream surged forward.
Setsuna's tone sharpened. "Remember—the ground is your best friend. It's the perfect conductor. Lightning always hunts for the fastest and shortest path to discharge. Bend it down, let the earth take the strike, and you live."
Kazuo tightened his jaw. "And if the ground isn't there?"
Setsuna's brow lifted. "What do you mean?"
Kazuo didn't lower his hand, Torrent still coiling outward, but his eyes were on Setsuna. "What if the fight isn't clean? Like when Cedric brought Rulthan's lava into the arena. What if he changes the terrain again to shut me down? If I can't bend it into the ground, then what?"
Setsuna went still, considering. Frost hissed across the water, chasing the stream toward Kazuo's palm, but he cut it aside, letting the ice break into the dirt. He exhaled hard, shaking droplets from his fingers.
"Clever," Setsuna admitted. "I thought of it too. But it's unlikely. Not in the finals. Everyone wants to see a fair and grounded battle. Cedric's too shrewd to risk losing face with the whole capital watching. He won't stack the stage in his favor—not when he's parading you for the crowd."
Kazuo set his stance again, Torrent curling forward once more. "So until then, I just learn to bend it into the ground. To be honest, it's not that hard."
"Exactly." Setsuna's grin returned, sharp and encouraging at once. "It's simple enough to master in the short time you've got, and for now it'll serve you well. But remember—there's a saying: if you adapt, he will too. The moment Aoi sees you using the ground, he'll look for a way around it. That's why you always need a second path in mind, something ready before he forces you into a corner."
Kazuo dipped his head, eyes on the stream of water as it shifted under his control. "So instead of relying on Water Wall, I'll use Torrent as my new defense. Is that what you're saying?"
Setsuna nodded. "I believe your Arcane could handle it too, but Torrent is faster and more efficient. Water Wall and Water Shuriken don't have the strength, and Riptide Cutter's too thin to carry the current away. Torrent gives you reach and flow—it's your best option."
Kazuo shaped the stream again, steady this time. He guided one channel sharply into the ground, watching the frost scatter harmlessly into the dirt. His arm remained free, chest untouched.
Setsuna's smirk widened. "Now you're starting to sound like me."
Kazuo shot him a dry look. "That's a bad thing."
The ice cracked away, the yard falling still.
Elsewhere, Aoi stood in the graveyard. His white scarf covered the lower half of his face, fluttering in the restless wind. Rows of worn headstones stretched out before him, shadows pooling at their bases.
Footsteps approached from behind. He didn't turn.
"What do you want, Mimi?" His voice was quiet but carried, edged with disinterest.
She stopped a few paces back. "Relax. I just wanted to chat. Your match is tomorrow, after all." Her eyes swept across the field of markers, softened by the pale light. "You always pick places like this… it's strange, but kind of peaceful. The dead don't judge, do they?"
Only then did Aoi shift slightly, his gaze lowering to the nearest stone.
"You're serious, aren't you?" Mimi's voice thinned to something gentler. "About your wish. You really mean to leave the special unit."
Aoi's eyes lingered on the names etched into the stone. "You know as well as I do… there's no other way to leave it."
Mimi stepped closer, watching him from the side. "You always come here. But why? Is it guilt?"
"No." His answer came flat, unshaken. "I don't have the luxury of guilt. Or grief. Those are for people who still own themselves."
For a moment the wind filled the silence between them.
She tilted her head. "For someone who claims he doesn't feel anything… envy is a hard emotion to hide."
Aoi's eyes flicked to hers. "You've said that before."
"You watch him," Mimi pressed. "More than you admit."
"Strange, isn't it? Two people dragged into the same game, used the same way… yet only one of us ever seems to walk away with something left."
Mimi's lips curved faintly. "You should know—just like you, he never had a choice."
Aoi finally pulled his scarf tighter and stepped past her, his tone even, almost cold. "It doesn't matter. That's why I have to kill him. No matter what you say, I'm not going to change my mind."
"Please," Mimi said bitterly. "As if anything I say could change your mind."
He slowed, just slightly.
"But even if you think you have nothing left," she added, her voice trembling at the edges, "I still care for you… even if you never acknowledge it."
Aoi didn't stop. His steps carried him deeper into the graveyard until the scarf and the line of his shoulders blurred into the gray horizon.
Night draped over the barracks in silence. Aoi lay on his back in the narrow bed, white scarf folded neatly on the chair beside him. The ceiling above was blank, but in his mind it refused to stay that way.
He saw flashes—Setsuna lounging with that careless grin, tossing barbed jokes at Kazuo. Sora, feigning wide-eyed wonder as she clapped at one of his sparring tricks. Tetsu's nervous voice rattling off numbers while the others laughed at him. Even Rei flickered across his memory, the red-haired fool cheering Kazuo on without hesitation.
Aoi turned his head sharply, shutting his eyes. The scenes only burned brighter. Kazuo, in the middle of them all, not smiling for glory, not posturing for status—just accepted. Just there.
Aoi dragged an arm across his eyes, his voice rasping into the dark. "We're the same. Both of us dragged along, no choice in anything. Both of us out of place." His teeth ground together. "So why? Why do you get this? People who love you. People who would fight beside you. What am I missing? Why are you allowed to feel?"
The silence pressed closer.
Then Mimi's voice echoed in his skull, softer than the wind outside the barracks: I care for you… even if you never acknowledge it.
His fingers curled tight in the sheets. "It's not the same, Mimi."
The words hung there, swallowed by the dark.