Gasps were heard from the crowd, all their eyes were on Mabushi's body, who was lying on the ground, trembling between life and death. His chest rose and fell desperately as he tried to breathe. His half-opened eyes saw nothing but fog and pain.
Paramedics rushed into the arena, their faces were stiff amid the confusion spreading through the audience. They split into two groups: one ran towards Silvara, she's still lying with pale face and unconscious, while the others knelt beside Mabushi, pressing an oxygen mask over his face to force his lungs to taste life again.
Ann stood with her hands clasped tightly over her chest, her mind still was waging war with itself. She stared at Mabushi's motionless body… at that fool who didn't know how to retreat, even when death was right in front of him. Something twisted inside her, as if her heart was trying to chase after him. But she shook her head lightly, trying to dismiss the feeling.
'Why? Why do I even care this much? He's just a client… a reckless idiot who came to me with money to buy my strength. That's all for him.'
She tried to convince herself that their relationship was nothing more than that simple equation: he pays, she helps. No friendship. No bond. Nothing that should shake her like this. But the more she repeated those words, her chest became more heavier, as if another voice deep inside was mocking her: If he was just a fool… why did you scream his name?
Moments later, she felt slow, heavy footsteps were approaching beside her. She turned to see Ken standing in front of her, his gray eyes locked into hers, piercing straight through her defenses. For a moment, nobody spoke. The crowd's noise faded into the background, swallowed by the silence between them.
Ann froze, staring at him as if she's seeing him up close for the first time. Ken wasn't just the man everyone saw in the arena, there was something deeper in his gaze.
He said quietly:
"You were calling his name just now… I thought he was just a fool, wasn't he?"
Ann clenched her fist at her waist, struggling to keep her composure, but his words broke through the mask she'd just put on. A small mocking smile touched her lips, though it lacked her usual confidence.
"And who told you I care? I don't. Whether he lives or dies doesn't matter. He just owes me money."
Ken replied coolly:
"Lies don't hide the tremor in your voice."
Ann raised an eyebrow and laughed lightly, while waving her hand.
"Man… are you always this cold with strangers? We've barely met, and you're already trying to read me like an open book?"
She flashed a wide grin, her Hands on her hips, she continued:
"Trust me… I'm not hiding anything. I just don't like people thinking I'm attached to some idiot like him."
At that moment, the director's voice boomed from atop the stone tower, cutting them off:
"Let's begin the next draw!"
He slid his hand among the papers, pulled one, and announced loudly:
"Sarutobi Ann!"
Ann froze for a second as the crowd erupted in surprise. Then she smirked and struck her fist lightly against her chest.
"Heh… finally, my turn!"
She walked toward the arena with steady steps, as if she hadn't been trembling moments ago. The director reached again into the box, drew another paper, opened it slowly, and declared,
"Kravos the Dancer."
Heads turned toward the shaded back rows. There stood a tall thin man, his frame oddly curved. Faded gray hair fell in messy strands on both sides of his face, and his pale turquoise eyes shimmered with an eerie light.
His steps were tilted, uneven, his arms swaying loosely at his sides. His clothes were simple dark, it's tattered was fabric, but the way he wore them made his appearance strange and unsettling.
Whispers rippled through the crowd:
"That's Kravos…"
"I heard he doesn't use any vakin or swords… but he never lost a fight."
He finally stopped at the center of the arena. His eyes didn't turn toward the audience or the president, only towards Ann.
Ann pulled three sharp shurikens from her side pocket, her movements practiced and fluid, she never took her gaze off him. She held them between her fingers with deadly precision, her violet eyes gleaming with restrained tension and excitement.
'So… this is my opponent?'
she murmured inwardly.
The director's voice rang out:
"Begin the fight!"
Kravos stepped forward… but he didn't raise his fists. He didn't draw a sword. He didn't even take a stance. Instead of that, he began to sing.
His voice was rough and strange, like an old broken instrument, but terrifyingly rhythmic. He sang in improvised lines, with a erratic melody:
🎵 "Oh flower among thorns… serpent with an angel's eyes…"
"You devoured my heart with a glance, poured salt and laughter on my wound…"
"May I dance in your shadow… before you tear me apart?" 🎵
He spun as he sang, his thin body twisting, bending backward at impossible angles. His arm writhed like something inhuman, his feet sliding across the floor like a puppet with cut strings.
Ann frowned instantly and shouted,
"Are you mocking me, you lunatic?!"
She threw all three shurikens at once with perfect aim, but Kravos tilted his head and bent his body in a horrifyingly smooth motion. The shurikens passed him without a scratch.
🎵 "To the right, oh melody of rage… now to the left!" 🎵
Kravos winked, spinning and dropping to one knee in a flourish before leaping back like a contortionist. Ann was grinding her teeth.
"What kind of fight is this?! This isn't a circus!"
He moved with no logic, no pattern. His body didn't obey muscles, it obeyed rhythm.
🎵 "But I came to dance upon your blood… will you make the dance dull?" 🎵
It wasn't just his taunts that got under her skin, everything about him did. His voice, his movement, the rhythm, it all grated on her nerves.
Without a word, she pulled a smoke bomb from her pocket and slammed it against the ground. A gray cloud exploded, swallowing the arena.
Ann moved like lightning. She leapt behind him silently, crouched low, and drew two curved daggers from her belt.
She whispered,
"Playtime's over."
She struck fast, both blades slashing toward his back. But—
🎵 "Ah… your breath upon my ear…" 🎵
Kravos murmured as he twisted his body in an unnatural spin a split second before her blades landed. His arm swung backward suddenly, smiling all the time as if it was a game.
At that moment, Akio appeared, running from afar, panting hard as he scanned the arena. He spotted Ken at the edge of the ring and rushed over, bending forward, his hands on his knees, catching his breath loudly. Then he lifted his head… his eyes widening as he saw Kravos spinning and singing like a snake in human form.
"What the hell is that thing?"
he muttered.
"Is he a fighter or a dancing doll?"
Then he shouted, waving towards Ann:
"Hey! Ninja girl! Don't let him beat you! Crush him!"
Akio bounced on his feet, fired up. Ken was still silent, he raised his hand and calmly placed it on Akio's head, pushing him aside without looking. His presence had become more irritating than the battle itself.
Akio blinked, then asked quietly,
"So… I'm ruining the moment?"
Ken didn't answer. His focus was only on the fight. Slowly, he pulled a cigarette pack from his pocket, opened it with his thumb, he checked inside… it was empty.
"Damn."
He snapped it shut, turned his wrist, and flicked it neatly into the nearest trash bin. Then he turned away from the arena, walking off as if the fight was no longer concerned him, or as if his craving was louder than the roaring crowd.
Akio watched him leaving, then yelled:
"You're too young to smoke, you know?! You enjoy killing yourself or what?"
Ken paused but didn't turn around. His reply was cold, heavy as stone:
"Some of us don't need to wait for death to feel dead."
Then he walked away slowly, as if what he'd left behind weighed less than what he carried inside.