Winning didn't feel good.
It never does.
As we left the arena, I could feel it—eyes following us, whispers trailing behind like static. Not loud. Not obvious. Just enough to be irritating.
Sora noticed too. "Why are people staring?"
"Because they're trying to figure out what went wrong," I said.
We passed a group of competitors huddled together. Their conversation stopped the moment we walked by. One of them scoffed quietly.
"Lucky hit," he muttered.
I didn't respond.
Luck was easier for them to accept.
At the corridor junction, someone stepped into our path.
Takumi.
Up close, he looked even more composed. Tall, clean posture, calm eyes that didn't waste effort on unnecessary emotion.
"Good match," he said. "Both of you."
Sora straightened instantly. "Ah—thank you, Senpai."
I didn't bow. Didn't greet him. Just waited.
Takumi's gaze lingered on me. "You move like someone who's fought before."
"I trip a lot," I replied.
Sora shot me a look.
Takumi smiled faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Team Arata values capable allies. If you ever reconsider working alone—"
"I won't."
The answer came out flat. Immediate.
For a moment, the corridor felt colder.
Takumi studied me, then nodded once. "Very well."
He stepped aside, letting us pass.
As we walked away, Sora whispered, "Was that smart?"
"No," I said. "But it was honest."
We reached the waiting area assigned to us. Screens displayed upcoming matches, names scrolling endlessly.
Ours was already marked as complete.
Beside our names, a small symbol had appeared.
Sora frowned. "What does that mean?"
I stared at it.
It meant review. Observation. Interest.
The kind you don't want.
I sat down, pulled my hood lower, and closed my eyes.
Staying invisible was getting harder.
And the tournament had barely started.