The night after the Iron Titans match, Republic City felt heavier. The streets hummed with gossip: the rookie Ferrets had nearly toppled the veterans, Roku had bent flame into smoke, Maya had danced stone into rhythm, and Jing had turned tide into song. But beneath the cheers, whispers slithered.
The Watchers
Jing walked alone through the lantern-lit market, hood pulled low. He wanted quiet, but quiet was a luxury the city rarely gave. Every stall seemed to echo his name. Children splashed puddles, shouting "Ferrets!" Vendors argued about whether the rookie's water tricks were luck or genius.
Then he saw her.
Nira.
She leaned against a spice cart, her smile thin, her eyes sharper than knives. She didn't move toward him. She didn't need to. Her presence was enough to freeze his breath.
"You bend like a poet," she said softly, voice cutting through the crowd's noise. "But poets bleed like anyone else."
Jing's hand twitched toward his flask. He stopped himself. Anchor. Tide.
"What do you want?" he asked.
Nira tilted her head. "The clan wants what it always wants: memory. You carry it. You resist it. But resistance breaks."
Before Jing could answer, a group of dockside workers stumbled between them, laughing, carrying crates. When the path cleared, Nira was gone.
The Team's Resolve
Back at the warehouse, Jing told Maya and Roku what he'd seen.
"She's testing you," Roku said, scarf burning red in the lamplight. "She wants to see if you'll snap."
Maya's jaw tightened. "Then we make sure he doesn't. We fight in the arena, not in alleys."
Jing swallowed. "But what if the alleys come to us?"
Maya's eyes were steady. "Then we fight there too. Together."
The league announced the next match: Fire Ferrets vs. Storm Vipers. The crowd buzzed with anticipation. Kaze's acrobatics, Rin's ice traps, Daichi's brute force—flash and arrogance against grit and heart.
But the Serpents weren't waiting for the arena.
That night, as the Ferrets walked home from training, shadows peeled from the walls. Three figures blocked the alley. Nira stepped forward, her smile a blade.
"You think the crowd will save you?" she whispered. "The clan doesn't play games. It plays blood."
Roku's hands flared with heat. Maya's heel sank into stone. Jing's flask trembled at his hip.
The alley became a ring. The Serpents advanced, silent and precise. The Ferrets braced, hearts pounding. The city's hum faded, replaced by the sound of water dripping from a broken pipe, the hiss of steam from a vent, the crackle of fire in Roku's palm.
Nira's eyes locked on Jing. "Tonight, you choose. Arena… or clan."
The fight was about to begin.