The corridors of the academy were unusually calm, the echoes of the previous battles having dissipated into a tense silence. Sage walked beside Kira, her steps quiet, almost hesitant, yet precise. The air between them wasn't empty; it was heavy with unspoken questions, with the weight of everything that had just transpired in the arena.
They reached a secluded balcony overlooking the training grounds. From here, the arena was visible, now cleared and prepared for the next test. The faint glimmer of broken weapons still lingered on the ground, shadows of what had been, and Sage's eyes flicked toward them, dark and thoughtful.
"They've noticed," Sage finally said, voice low, almost a whisper. Her hands curled around the railing as if holding herself together. "The rulers—they're catching on. About me… the technique."
Kira's gaze didn't leave hers. His expression was calm, but the faint tension in his shoulders betrayed him. "I expected that," he said quietly. "The Phantom move you used… it isn't something that goes unnoticed forever. Even if it doesn't show up on their machines, the council has eyes. They felt it. They felt you move, strike, erase… all of it."
Sage's eyes dropped, a shadow passing over her features. "Then maybe I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have done anything."
Kira's hand rose, gently touching her shoulder—not in any intimate way, just enough to anchor her to the moment. "Senpai," she whispered, almost reluctantly, the word breaking through the tension like fragile glass.
"I gave the signal," Kira said softly, letting the words settle. "You did exactly what I needed you to. You did well. Perfectly."
Sage's shoulders sagged slightly, relief mingling with lingering guilt. The corner of her mouth quirked, a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Even if the rulers don't know it yet… it's only a matter of time before they do."
Kira's eyes hardened, the faint glow of Aqua swirling around his body, visible in the form of tiny flickering droplets hovering in the air. "Then we make sure the next step counts. The technique—the one that could end the test in our favor—that's only one move. One I've practiced, but one I don't intend to use… not yet. Not if we can win without it."
Sage tilted her head slightly, curious. "You're not going to use it?"
Kira shook his head, a small but determined motion. "No. I'll rely on Aqua… and the strategy we discussed. It'll give me the chance to temporarily remove Ignis from Chris. That's the only way to increase the odds of winning without resorting to the ultimate move."
Sage's eyes softened. There was trust there, deep and quiet, and yet a ripple of worry lingered. "You really think it'll work?"
"I have to," Kira said simply. His tone left no room for doubt, only quiet certainty. "And if it doesn't… then we adapt. That's all we ever do, right?"
Sage exhaled, her fists unclenching as a flicker of a smile appeared on her lips. "Senpai… thank you. I—I just hope I didn't make things harder."
"You didn't," Kira reassured her, voice firm but gentle. "You followed the plan. You acted with precision. That move you made… it gave us the edge we needed to even have a chance. You did perfectly. Now, it's time I do my part."
Sage nodded, letting herself sink slightly into the quiet moment. Watching Kira, she felt the weight of the previous chaos ease just a fraction. The battle ahead loomed large, but for now, there was calm. A calm that didn't last, but one they would carry with them as a shield.
Without another word, Kira turned toward the arena. Each step was measured, each breath deliberate, the soft hum of Aqua swirling around him as he prepared himself. Sage remained a few paces behind, a shadow blending into the quiet, observing, waiting.
The test was about to begin.
And for the Crimson Class, every heartbeat, every thought, every movement from here on out would count.