Kurashi had won.
That was supposed to be the goal.
To prove he was the strongest.
To cut down those who stood before him.
To stand alone when all others had fallen.
Yet as he stood over Yuki's unconcious body, the rush he expected never came.
Satisfaction?
Relief?
There was nothing.
His hand trembled, fingers tightening around the hilt of his katana as he raised it high.
He could see her chest rise faintly—barely, causing Kurashi to hesitate.
"My hands...Why are they shaking?" Kurashi thought to himself, gazing up to his trembling hand wrapped around the hilt of katana. "Is it...the rain? Am I sick? Cold?"
He clenched his jaw, forcing the thoughts away.
His grip steadied, and his blade came down, stabbing through the last shred of hesitation, desperate to finish what he started—to silence whatever was mawing at his chest.
But before it could meet her neck, a hand seized his wrist.
"Enough."
The voice was calm, but there was no softness in it.
Kurashi's blade froze inches from Yuki's throat. He turned slowly. The instructor—the one who'd reported to Sir Nakama—stood closer than Kurashi had realized. The instructors eyes showed more than he could explain in words.
DIgust
Disgusted at the boy before him.
"Step back, now." The instructor stated, shoving his palm into Kurashi's chest.
Pushed back from the force, Kurashi stood frozen, confused by the hostiltity.
"I was the last one standing...That means I have won...So why?" Kurashi thought, staring down at the instructor now tending to Yuki. "Why does he seem...upset?"
The word 'upset' lingers inside of Kurashi, unsure what that word even truly means.
"A pulse...and she's still breathing." The instructor spoke lowly to himself, checking the pulse of her neck. "That's all that matters now."
Yuki was lifted gently, as the instructor held her in his arms.
The instructor looked over his shoulder. "Monster..." He muttered to himself. "If the higher-ups don't restrain him soon...He'll tear everything apart. Only a matter of time..."
Behind him, the other instructors swept in, collecting the fallen trainees Kurashi had defeated. Soon, the field emptied—only Kurashi remained, surrounded by the quiet wreckage of his own 'victory'.
He looked down at his hand, still trembling as he spoke. "But...I was the last standing."
Later that night, despite the bruises, exhaustion, and harsh battle outcomes, the cafeteria was lively. Voices interwove in conversation and laughter, trays clattered against tables, and the smell of hot food filled the air. It was as if, for a moment, everyone forgot the strain of the tournament and allowed themselves to revel in the simple joy of still being here together.
At one table, Jin and Izumi sat side by side, their plates mostly untouched.
Izumi shifted, propping her chin on her hand as she watched Jin. "You're weirdly quiet tonight, what's up?"
Jin exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. His damp hair, still carrying the scent of rain.
"Just thinking is all..."
Izumi arched an eyebrow, her eyes glinting with curiosity. "About Misaki?"
Jin let out a short, dry laugh. "Is it that obvious?"
"Painfully." She smirked. "So? Got a genius plan up your sleeve?"
Jin shook his head, staring at his untouched meal. "No point. Misaki already knows whatever I'd come up with."
Izumi tapped her fingers against the table, her expression thoughtful. "Okay, but you're smart, too. Why wouldn't you even try?"
Jin hesitated, his fingers curling slightly. "I try to be a good leader. I think I do a decent job. But every time I go up against her, all my plans just—" He snapped his fingers, his voice carrying a quiet frustration. "Gone. Useless. It's better to depend on insticts at that point."
Izumi studied him, her gaze softening. "You are a good leader. A better one, actually."
Jin gave her a skeptical glance.
She smirked, tilting her head slightly. "Misaki's plans might be better, sure. But you care more. You think on a bigger scale. She doesn't give a damn about her teammates...You do."
Jin absorbed her words in silence, his eyes lowering as he processed them.
Izumi sighed, then, after a brief pause, leaned against his shoulder, her warmth a contrast to the cool air around them. "You're the smartest person I know, Jin. Don't overthink it. It's just training anyway. Just work on what you're unsure of."
She nudged him lightly. "Now, quit moping and eat with me. Your brain won't work if you don't nourish it."
Jin didn't answer right away, but the tension in his shoulders eased, his usual sharp edges softening ever so slightly.
At another table, Souta poked at his food, fidgeting. Takeshi shot him a sideways glance.
"If you're feeling guilty, go apologize to her yourself," Takeshi said flatly.
Souta groaned. "I—I just think it might be better coming from you."
Takeshi rolled his eyes. "Lame excuse, dude."
Souta sighed and leaned back. "Honestly...maybe it's a good thing I didn't move on this year."
Takeshi frowned in confusion. "Why?"
"My little sister misses me a lot. She wants me back home." His voice softened slightly, and a faint smile tugged at his lips.
Takeshi set his chopsticks down, his expression unreadable. "And you? You want to go back?"
Souta hesitated, then shrugged. "I don't know....maybe. I mean, she's starting her training in a few days, and she's really nervous. I want to be there to help out."
Takeshi studied him for a long moment before asking, "And your mom?"
Souta exhaled through his nose, glancing away. "She's doing better..."
Takeshi didn't push, but his gaze lingered. "Your sister's lucky to have you, Souta. I'm sure she'll be excited when you come back home."
Souta chuckled. "Yeah...I like to think so."
Takeshi smirked. "But just don't go easy on her. You have a rep of training a little too hard."
Souta laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. I'll make sure she's even tougher than I am."
Outside, beyond the glow of the dorms, the rain had finally stopped.
Kurashi sat near the forest's edge, the damp earth cool beneath him. He gazed up at the crescent moon, its silver light piercing through the lingering mist. The night air smelled of rain and pine, a crispness that felt almost cleansing.
Soft footsteps crunched from behind him.
Misaki