They didn't approach me right away.
That alone told me enough.
After the second match, staff members whispered into comms more often. Officials lingered near our path instead of directing it. Even medical checks were slower, more thorough than necessary.
They were buying time.
Sora noticed it too. "We're being delayed."
"They're deciding who gets to speak first," I said.
She frowned. "Speak about what?"
"About whether I'm a problem."
As if summoned by the thought, Kira appeared at the corridor entrance. She wasn't smiling. She rarely did when things stopped following script.
"Walk with me," she said.
It wasn't a request.
Sora hesitated. I shook my head slightly. She stayed back.
We moved down a quieter hallway, away from the noise. Cameras followed until the last turn, then stopped.
Kira slowed. "You're good at avoiding labels."
"I don't apply for them."
"That's not how this system works."
I looked at her. "Then the system shouldn't have invited me."
She studied my face for a long moment. "You fight like someone who's already given up on being saved."
"That's because I was."
She didn't flinch. "Then why keep stepping in?"
I stopped walking. "I don't step in. I end things."
Silence stretched.
Finally, she said, "There are people watching this tournament who don't care about fairness. Or rules. Or heroes."
"I know."
"They're interested in you."
"That's unfortunate for them."
A corner of her mouth lifted, not quite a smile. "You say that like you're not worried."
"I am," I replied. "Just not about myself."
We reached the end of the hall.
Kira turned back toward the arena. "Your next match won't be normal."
I pulled my hood up. "None of them are."
As I walked away, I felt it again—that tightening in the air.
Whatever was coming next wasn't about the competition anymore.
It was about control.
And I had never been good at letting anyone have it.