"Ah," Baku said. "Now it gets horrible."
The sentence lingered over the field like a warning that was far too cheerful.
Harada appeared to Ishida's left.
Mei cut from the right.
Kenta raised fire.
Ishida raised chains.
And for one second, neither of them knew whether they were covering each other or crashing into each other.
Ishida's chain crossed in front of Kenta right as Kenta tried to close Mei's advance with a line of fire. The flame touched the edge of the chain, not enough to break it, but enough to change its angle.
Ishida had to release the tension.
Kenta had to extinguish half the flame.
Harada took advantage.
He appeared behind Ishida without a sound and reached for his shoulder. It was not a strong attack. It did not need to be. If he touched him, Ishida would be forced to turn. If Ishida turned, Mei would get in. If Mei got in, Kenta would answer with fire.
All of that was inside the gesture.
Ishida understood it too late.
Kenta did not.
Kenta only saw Harada appear behind his partner.
The flame rose.
"Ishida!"
Mei smiled.
"Late."
Kenta swung his arm to launch fire at Harada, but Ishida's chain suddenly tightened and cut off his angle.
"No," Ishida said.
It was not a loud order.
It was not a shout.
But Kenta stopped anyway.
Harada touched Ishida's shoulder with two fingers.
Kanzaki raised his hand.
"Clean contact. Continue."
Ishida stepped back.
Mei did not wait.
Her fans opened like two half-moons. Mana sharpened along their edges and released three low cuts, all aimed at Kenta.
One at his right foot.
Another at his knee.
Another at the space where he would have jumped if he tried to dodge.
Kenta saw it.
Too much.
He saw every option, every exit, every way he could burn it all and end the problem in one second.
And there was the mistake.
Wanting to end the problem.
Fire rose along both his hands.
Ishida looked at him.
"Choose where it ends."
Kenta clenched his teeth.
"What?"
"The fire. Choose where it ends."
The cuts were coming.
Mei was coming behind them.
Harada was no longer where he had been.
Kenta had no time for an explanation.
Maybe that was why it worked.
He did not think about putting the fire out.
He did not think about using it harder.
He thought about the end.
The flame left his right hand and struck the ground, but it did not advance toward Mei. It opened into a short, low line that died just before touching the first cut.
The heat distorted the air.
Mei's cut deflected.
The second struck the edge of the flame and lost strength.
The third kept going.
Kenta had to move his leg.
It was not elegant.
The cut grazed his pants.
But it did not knock him down.
Mei narrowed her eyes.
"That was new."
Kenta breathed through his nose.
"Yeah."
"I don't like it."
"Me neither."
Ishida moved a chain around Harada's ankle the very moment Harada reappeared behind him.
Harada looked down.
The chain had not caught him.
Not yet.
It was only there.
Waiting for him.
"You saw me," Harada said.
"No," Ishida answered. "I saw her."
Mei clicked her tongue.
"How annoying."
Harada stepped back and disappeared before the chain could close.
Baku raised one finger.
"I liked that. Using your partner as an involuntary informant. Very healthy for group trust."
Kasumi smiled behind her fan.
"I'm not sure the word 'healthy' belongs to you."
"I rented it for the afternoon."
Kanzaki did not take his eyes off the field.
"The read was correct. But late."
Kato nodded.
"They're still stepping on each other."
"Yes," Yuna said. "But now they know they're stepping on each other."
"That's half the disaster."
Baku sighed.
"The other half is when they think they've fixed it."
On the field, Ishida moved the low chain toward Kenta.
Kenta saw it from the corner of his eye.
"Don't tie me down."
"I'm not tying you down."
"That sounds like something someone says right before tying me down."
"It's a route."
Kenta did not answer.
The word annoyed him because it sounded too reasonable.
Mei attacked before he could decide whether he hated the chain or the explanation more.
She closed the distance with a quick step and spun on her heel. The fans cut in opposite directions: one toward Kenta's chest, the other toward the space between him and Ishida.
She was not trying to hurt him.
She was trying to separate them.
Ishida launched a chain toward the second cut.
Kenta raised fire toward the first.
The chain and flame crossed again.
They did not collide head-on.
But they interfered with each other.
Enough.
Mei entered through the gap.
"If you have to think that much just to avoid getting in each other's way," she said, "you're already late."
Kenta wanted to answer.
That was also a trap.
He knew it because Ishida said nothing.
He only pulled the low chain.
Not to move him.
To make it strike the ground.
A dry hit.
Mana metal against stone.
Kenta lowered his gaze for less than a second.
The chain marked a diagonal.
A route.
Not an order.
An option.
Kenta took the step.
Mei's fan cut through the place he would have been standing if he had answered the insult.
The fan passed through air.
Kenta smiled.
"I arrived late somewhere else."
Mei looked at him.
"Don't try to sound clever. It doesn't suit you."
"I've been told worse things."
"Deserved, I'm sure."
Harada appeared beside Ishida, this time from the front.
He did not attack.
He only raised one hand.
Ishida tightened a chain by reflex.
Harada disappeared.
The real attack came from behind Kenta.
Mei had managed to make both of them look where they shouldn't.
Kenta felt the movement, but he did not turn in time.
Harada reappeared behind him, palm open toward his shoulder.
"Kenta," Ishida said.
He did not say "behind."
He did not say "careful."
He said his name.
Kenta did not turn.
He lowered the fire.
He placed it on the ground behind his own heel, small, almost ridiculous.
Harada appeared right above it.
The heat did not burn him.
It was not enough.
But it stole the certainty from his step.
His foot touched the hot edge and lifted half a second before landing.
Half a second was everything.
Ishida's chain arrived from the side and grazed his wrist.
Harada disappeared.
But this time it was not clean.
The chain did not catch him, but it interrupted his rhythm.
Harada appeared three meters back, his hand closed.
He looked at Kenta.
"You didn't attack me."
Kenta was still breathing hard.
"I didn't need to."
Ishida looked at him.
Kenta noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That was your 'well done' face."
"I don't have that face."
"You have the same boring face for everything, but I'm starting to distinguish the categories."
Ishida looked forward again.
"Regrettable."
"Yeah. For both of us."
Mei watched that exchange with irritation.
Not because they were talking.
Because they were no longer talking to distract themselves.
They were talking to position themselves.
That was a problem.
"Harada," she said.
"Yes."
"We're late."
"Correct."
"Don't say 'correct' like it isn't your fault."
"The fault is shared."
"How generous."
Harada looked at her.
"I need you to cut my exit."
Mei blinked.
"What?"
"My exit. If they're waiting for my reappearance, cut the place where I won't be."
Mei understood.
And that annoyed her even more, because it was a good idea.
"Warn me before saying useful things."
"Late warning: useful idea."
"I'm going to hate you less when this is over."
"That would be a tactical change."
"Don't get excited."
Harada disappeared.
Mei moved at the same time.
But this time, they were not each moving alone.
Harada broke the distance toward Ishida.
Mei did not attack Kenta.
She cut the space to Ishida's right, exactly where Ishida would have turned to follow Harada.
Ishida saw it.
Kenta did too.
But seeing it was not always enough.
Harada appeared to Ishida's left and touched a chain with two fingers. Not to break it. To shift it slightly.
Mei cut from the right.
Ishida was placed between two decisions.
Kenta had fire.
He had anger.
He had the chain route marked on the ground.
And he had a problem: if he used a big fire, he might stop Mei, but he would also close Ishida's exit.
"Choose where it ends," he murmured to himself.
The flame came out low.
Not toward Mei.
Not toward Harada.
Toward the line between them.
A cut of heat.
A boundary.
Mei had to raise her fan.
Harada had to reappear before completing his step.
Ishida used that half second to collect the chain Harada had touched and change its direction.
The chain turned over the ground like a flat snake.
Harada disappeared.
The chain did not follow him.
It stayed.
Kenta understood.
"You're waiting for him."
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Where he thinks I'm not looking."
Kenta smiled.
"That's really annoying."
"It works on you."
"That wasn't necessary."
Mei came in again.
This time she aimed at Ishida.
Kenta raised fire.
Ishida raised a chain.
And once again, they were about to get in each other's way.
But Kenta saw the edge of the chain before moving.
He did not cross it.
He placed the fire beside it.
Not on top.
The flame followed the direction of the chain without touching it.
For the first time, chain and fire did not interfere.
They pushed space for each other.
Mei stopped.
Only for an instant.
But her gaze changed.
"There it is."
Kenta looked at her.
"What?"
"You're no longer being two idiots at the same time."
"What an ugly compliment."
"It wasn't a compliment."
Ishida took advantage.
The low chain split into two lines.
One continued toward Mei.
The other remained dead on the ground.
Too dead.
Harada appeared above it.
Kenta saw him.
Ishida did too.
Harada realized as well.
Too late.
The dead chain rose.
Not to catch his neck.
Not to strike.
Only to close around his ankle.
Harada disappeared.
The chain closed around air.
Mei smiled.
"Not enough."
Ishida did not answer.
Because Kenta had already placed fire where Harada reappeared.
Another small flame.
Ridiculous.
Low.
Exact.
Harada could not place his foot properly.
His ankle was not trapped, but his body lost its axis.
Ishida pulled the first chain.
He did not catch Harada.
He caught the space Harada needed.
Harada fell to one knee.
Kanzaki raised one hand.
"One."
Mei moved.
Fast.
Faster than Kenta expected.
Her fans cut toward the chains limiting Harada. A vertical cut, clean, perfect to separate Ishida's mana and free her partner before the second count.
Kenta felt the impulse to stop her with fire.
Big.
Direct.
Easy.
No.
The fire appeared between Mei and the chain.
Not as an attack.
As a warning.
A small, horizontal tongue of flame at the exact height needed to force her to change the angle of her cut.
Mei did not stop.
But she had to correct.
That correction stole strength.
The fan struck the chain.
The chain vibrated.
It did not break.
"Two," Kanzaki said.
Harada placed one hand on the ground.
He disappeared.
Or tried to.
Ishida's chain was not closed around him.
It was closed around the area.
Harada reappeared half a meter away.
Still inside.
Kenta opened his other hand.
A second flame appeared behind Harada.
It did not burn him.
It did not touch him.
It only took away his retreat.
For the first time, something almost like surprise appeared in Harada's eyes.
Mei clenched her teeth.
"Harada!"
"I know."
"Then get out!"
"I am trying."
Ishida lowered his voice.
"Kenta."
"I know."
"Don't trap him with fire."
"I'm not trapping him."
Kenta breathed.
The flame did not rise.
"I'm closing doors."
Ishida looked at him for an instant.
Then pulled the chains.
Mei cut again.
This time, not at the chain.
At Kenta.
Not with full force.
Not to injure him.
To force him to defend himself and extinguish the flame closing Harada's exit.
It was a good decision.
Kenta almost fell for it.
Because his body wanted to protect itself first.
Because the fire wanted to rise.
Because Mei knew how to touch his pride as if it were another technique.
"Do the obvious thing," she said.
Kenta smiled.
Badly.
The flame rose.
Baku stopped smiling.
Kato did not speak either.
And that weighed more than any warning.
Kenta saw the fire in his own hand.
He saw Mei.
He saw Harada trying to get out.
He saw Ishida's chain.
He saw that if he did the obvious thing, he would win one second.
And lose the rest.
He closed his hand.
The flame disappeared.
Mei's cut passed near his shoulder.
Kenta did not block it with fire.
He ducked.
Ugly.
Late.
But he ducked.
And with his other hand, he kept the small flame behind Harada.
Mei's eyes widened slightly.
Kanzaki said:
"Three."
Silence returned.
Not like before.
Hotter.
More difficult.
Harada stopped trying to disappear.
Ishida released the chains.
Kenta's flames went out.
Kana raised her cane.
"Victory to Taro Ishida and Kenta Arimoto."
Kenta stayed still.
As if the sentence had taken longer to reach him than the rest of the match.
Then he looked at his hands.
There was no fire.
No burns.
No great blaze going out in the air.
Only his hands.
"We won," he said.
Ishida gathered the chains.
"Yes."
"I didn't use a big flame."
"No."
"And we won."
"Yes."
Kenta frowned.
"How annoying."
"Control usually is."
Kenta looked at him.
"Don't say deep things right after winning. It makes you unbearable."
"It was not deep."
"That makes it worse."
Ishida looked toward the scoreboard.
Tatsu was already writing.
Ishida / Arimoto: 3 points.
Shirogane / Harada: 0 points.
Mei snapped her fans shut.
"We lost."
Harada nodded.
"Yes."
"I don't like it."
"Neither do I."
Mei looked at him.
"You don't look annoyed."
"I am annoyed with internal efficiency."
"That means nothing."
"It means our communication improved late."
Mei tightened her grip on the fans.
"Next time, improve earlier."
Harada blinked.
"Both of us."
Mei pointed at him with the closed fan.
"Don't ruin my anger with precision."
"Confirmed."
Kasumi watched Mei from the side.
She was not smiling.
That irritated Mei even more.
"What?" Mei asked.
Kasumi tilted her head.
"Nothing."
"That 'nothing' has the face of a lecture."
"Then perhaps you're learning to read."
Mei took a step toward her.
Hina gently caught her arm.
"No."
"I didn't even say anything."
"Your shoulder did."
Mei looked at her own shoulder as if it had betrayed her.
"Everyone is unbearable today."
From one side, Yūta lifted his hand slightly.
"Losing usually does that."
Mei looked at him.
"You lost too."
"That's why I'm saying it with recent authority."
Beside him, Chiho murmured:
"Don't use our defeat as a credential."
"It was the only thing I had."
Sota was still in the front row.
He looked at Kenta.
Not at the fire.
At Kenta.
There was something strange about seeing him win without exploding. Something almost harder to understand than a powerful technique. Sota had imagined many times that becoming strong meant being able to do more.
But Kenta had just won by doing less.
Baku appeared behind him.
"That bothered you a little, didn't it?"
Sota did not flinch anymore.
Or not as much.
"Yes."
"Good."
"You say 'good' to weird things."
"Because normal things usually lie."
Sota did not answer.
Baku looked at Kenta.
"That idiot learned that not every fire needs to become national news. Historic day."
From the other side, Kanzaki said:
"His control was acceptable."
Baku turned.
"Masato, if you ever say 'well done' with emotion, a dimensional crack opens."
"Then I'll prevent the collapse."
Kato approached Ishida and Kenta.
"It wasn't clean."
Kenta lifted his head.
"We won, and that's the first thing you say."
"Yes."
"How motivating."
Ishida looked at Kato.
"We got in each other's way at the beginning."
"And almost at the end."
"Yes."
"But you stopped trying to correct each other by force."
Kenta looked at Ishida.
"Is that good?"
Kato drank coffee.
"It's less bad."
Kenta opened his mouth.
Closed it.
"I'll take it as praise."
"Do what you can with what you have."
Ishida nodded.
"I need to mark routes earlier."
"Yes."
Kato looked at Kenta.
"And you need to decide sooner where the fire ends."
Kenta lowered his gaze to his hands.
"Yes."
"Don't sound surprised that you can do it."
Kenta did not answer right away.
Then he tightened his fingers.
"I didn't think it would work."
"It worked because you didn't try to turn it into a demonstration."
Baku leaned in from behind Kato.
"Translation: when you don't try to look powerful, sometimes you're useful. Horrible discovery for adolescence."
Kenta looked at him.
"Was that advice?"
"Or an insult with pedagogical vocation."
"I don't know which one I hate more."
"Then both survive."
Kana struck the ground with her cane.
"Two-minute break. Then the third match."
The courtyard began to move again.
But not like at the beginning.
The first fight had taught them that a defeat could close in three seconds.
The second had taught them that winning was not comfortable either.
The students looked at the scoreboard.
Sendai / Takashima: 3 points.
Ishida / Arimoto: 3 points.
Amane / Wada: 0 points.
Shirogane / Harada: 0 points.
Tsukino / Mura: no match yet.
Yūta read their zero.
It did not hurt less the second time.
But it hurt differently.
Chiho stood beside him.
"Don't look at the number like it might apologize."
"If I stare long enough, maybe it'll feel bad."
"It's a zero."
"Zeros have emotional responsibility too."
"No."
Yūta sighed.
"Fine. Then we have to win."
"Yes."
"Against Tsukino and Mura."
"Yes."
"Easy."
Chiho looked at him.
"No."
"I wanted to test how it sounded."
"It sounded desperate."
"Then it was honest."
On the other side of the courtyard, Hina was adjusting her grip on the axe. She was not doing it out of nerves. She was doing it to remember weight, distance, response. Kaito stood beside her, stretching his shoulders without taking his eyes off the field.
He did not stand in front of her.
Not once.
Hina noticed.
"You're thinking too much about where to stand."
Kaito looked at her.
"I'm trying not to block you."
"I don't want you to disappear from the front."
"I won't disappear."
"I also don't want you to protect me like I'm going to break."
Kaito lowered his arms.
"I know."
Hina looked at him calmly.
"Do you know, or are you repeating it?"
Kaito took a moment.
"I'm trying to know."
Hina smiled a little.
"That's more useful."
Kaito looked toward Yūta and Chiho.
"They're going to change."
"Yes."
"They lost while learning something."
"Then now they're more dangerous."
"Yes."
Hina rested the axe on her shoulder.
"We have to be too."
Kaito nodded.
"Beside you."
Hina looked at him.
"Beside me."
Tatsu opened the folder again.
"Third match of the scoring phase: Hina Tsukino and Kaito Mura versus Yūta Amane and Chiho Wada."
Yūta's name sounded different this time.
Maybe because he had already lost.
Maybe because everyone had now seen him try to learn.
Maybe because the zero on the scoreboard made every step weigh a little more.
Yūta entered the field for the second time.
This time, he did not look at space as something he had to occupy.
He looked at it as something he had to build.
Chiho walked beside him.
Not behind.
Not far.
At the exact distance where she could see him without depending on him.
"I want to open lines for you," Yūta said.
Chiho tightened the string of mana between her fingers.
"Then don't stare at them too much."
"I was just about to say I'd be smarter this time."
"That would be staring too much."
"Understood."
On the other side, Hina placed her hand on the handle of her axe.
Kaito positioned himself beside her.
Not in front.
Beside her.
Kato watched the four of them.
So did Yuna.
Kana raised her cane.
For an instant, the whole courtyard seemed to hold its breath.
Surprisingly, Baku made no joke.
That was worse.
Kana lowered the cane.
"Third match. Begin."