The waiting area was louder than the arena.
Not in sound—but in pressure.
People laughed too hard, talked too much. Everyone was pretending they weren't nervous. Everyone was pretending they mattered.
I sat in the far corner, away from the screens, away from the teams comparing stats and replaying fights on their devices.
Sora went to grab water.
I stayed.
Someone sat down beside me.
No announcement. No dramatic pause.
Just… presence.
"You don't flinch," a voice said.
I opened one eye.
The boy looked ordinary. Short hair, plain uniform, no team insignia. The kind of face that slipped past memory easily.
"I wasn't planning to," I said.
He nodded like that answer made sense. "Most people do. Especially after matches."
"Then they shouldn't compete."
A faint smile crossed his face. "That's harsh."
"So is losing."
He leaned back, hands behind his head. "You're not registered under any major faction."
"I don't register for things."
"I figured." He glanced at the screens. "Still, you fought like someone who understands how ugly this gets."
I didn't respond.
Silence settled between us—not awkward, not friendly. Just neutral.
After a while, he spoke again. "Name's Ren."
I waited.
"…You're not going to give yours?"
"No."
Ren chuckled softly. "Fair."
Sora returned, slowing when she saw him. Her eyes flicked between us.
Ren stood up. "Anyway. Watch your next match."
I looked up. "Why?"
"Because people like you don't get ignored twice."
He walked off before I could answer.
Sora sat beside me. "Who was that?"
"Someone passing by."
She didn't look convinced.
I turned back to the screen.
Our next opponent's name had just appeared.
And this time, the murmurs around us didn't bother hiding.