The observation deck was off-limits to participants.
That never stopped anyone important.
Behind the one-way glass, analysts sat in silence, screens replaying fragments of the earlier match from half a dozen angles. No cheering. No commentary. Just numbers, vectors, slowed frames.
Kira stood with her arms crossed.
"He didn't use any enhancement," one of them said. "No energy spike. No signature."
"Yet the impact ratios are off," another replied. "Timing's too clean."
Kira didn't look impressed. "Skill like that doesn't come from training programs."
"Could be a street fighter."
"Street fighters don't disengage that fast."
She tapped the screen, freezing the moment my opponent fell. "He wasn't trying to win. He was trying to end interaction."
Someone frowned. "Why would a competitor do that?"
"Because he doesn't want attention," Kira said. "And because he knows what attention costs."
On another monitor, Ren leaned against the railing below, watching teams move between zones. He didn't speak, but his gaze lingered longer than necessary.
"Team Arata's next," someone said. "If they advance, they'll cross paths."
Kira exhaled slowly. "Then we'll see if he keeps pretending."
We were given an hour break.
I sat on the steps outside the arena, hoodie pulled up, hands buried in my pockets. The noise inside felt distant, like it belonged to another life.
Sora joined me after a while. "People are talking."
"They always do."
"About you."
I didn't answer.
She hesitated. "You don't have to carry everything alone."
I looked at her then. Really looked.
She wasn't afraid of me.
That annoyed me more than the stares.
"I'm not carrying anything," I said. "I just don't drop things."
She smiled faintly, like she understood something I didn't want understood.
The screen outside flashed.
Next round announcements incoming.
I stood.
Whatever they thought they saw…
I wasn't done disappointing them yet.