The arena hummed with anticipation as the announcer’s voice boomed across the grounds. “The next test is the one-on-one battle!” The crowd erupted into cheers, eager to witness the combat skills of the aspiring warriors. Shunjiro stood among the contenders, heart hammering inside his chest. Despite his recent surprise S-rank, a coil of dread twisted in his stomach at the thought of facing opponents like Sora or Yoshinori. He caught them both glancing his way every now and then, nothing overt, just sidelong looks that made it clear: they wanted to see if his performance was a fluke. “Hey,” Itsuki’s soft voice cut through his worries. She reached out and grabbed his hand, her touch warm and steady. “You’re going to do just fine, Shunjiro.” He looked down at her hand in his and then up at her smiling face, cheeks pinkening slightly. Something in her unwavering optimism calmed his nerves. “Okay,” he said, more to himself than her. “I got this.” The announcer called out the names for the first match: Yoshinori versus Jayiden. A wave of excitement rippled through the audience as the two stepped into the arena. Yoshinori was calm and composed, walking with precise, measured steps. Jayiden, meanwhile, grinned cockily, his beast-race features, canine ears and tail, adding to his fierce aura. He cracked his knuckles, eager to prove himself. The battle began with Jayiden charging at Yoshinori, his movements quick and powerful. But Yoshinori dodged gracefully, stepping aside with uncanny timing. The crowd held its breath as he retaliated with a powerful punch to Jayiden’s stomach, sending him stumbling. Jayiden growled, launching himself back at Yoshinori. This time, Yoshinori ended it with a swift kick, knocking Jayiden off balance and onto the ground. The announcer declared Yoshinori the winner to roaring applause. Shunjiro’s palms grew clammy. Yoshinori’s composure and skill were astounding, and he couldn’t help picturing himself in Jayiden’s place, pinned to the sand, helpless. If I had to fight someone like that… would I last even a minute? The announcer’s voice cut through the excited chatter: “Next match, Shunjiro versus Sora!” Shunjiro’s stomach dropped. Of all the fighters he could have faced, Sora was near the top of his avoidance list. The silver-haired warrior stepped confidently into the arena, sunlight glinting off every strand of hair. He gave Shunjiro a withering smirk. “Looks like I get to fight the shrimp,” Sora sneered. “This’ll be over in no time.” A wave of heat, part embarrassment, part anger, washed over Shunjiro. He tried to drown out the crowd’s mixture of cheers and murmurs, forcing himself to focus. Stay calm. You’ve got an S-rank, right? Prove you’re not just lucky. The match began. Desperate to seize the momentum, Shunjiro dashed forward, aiming a punch at Sora’s midsection. But Sora slipped aside effortlessly and delivered a swift kick that sent Shunjiro tumbling across the arena floor. The impact rattled his bones, and he winced as he hit the sand. Laughter and cheers mingled in the stands. He pushed himself onto one elbow, readying to stand, when he saw a familiar figure among the crowd: Takeshi, his older brother. Though Shunjiro couldn’t read his expression, just knowing Takeshi was there sent a jolt of pressure through his veins. I can’t let him see me fail… Grinding his teeth, Shunjiro climbed to his feet. His limbs trembled with fear and determination. Come on, you’ve got this. Show him you’re not weak. He lunged at Sora again, swinging a fierce punch. To his shock, this time he connected. Sora’s head snapped back, and the crowd gasped. A spark of hope ignited in Shunjiro’s chest. I did it-! But Sora only wiped a thin trickle of blood from his lip, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Nice try, shrimp,” he spat, voice cold with fury, “but it’s no use. My power is adaptation. I can learn from your moves and make them useless against me.” Shunjiro’s stomach clenched. Adaptation? Then how-? Before he could finish the thought, Sora blurred forward in a burst of speed. He slammed Shunjiro’s face into the ground with brutal force. Stars danced in Shunjiro’s vision, darkness nipping at the edges. He felt more than heard the crowd’s collective gasp, muffled by the ringing in his ears. “Shunjiro!” A voice, achingly familiar, called out. Gentle hands found his face, and warmth spread across his bruised skin. “Hang in there,” Itsuki said, her healing magic flowing through him. “You can do this. I believe in you.” His eyelids fluttered, the pain receding just enough for him to gather a shred of clarity. She believes in me. The thought sparked a faint ember of resolve. He managed to get onto his knees, fighting the urge to collapse again. “I… I don’t know if I can beat him,” he admitted, vision still hazy. His voice quivered. “Yes, you can,” Itsuki replied firmly. She locked eyes with him, her expression fierce. “You’re stronger than you think. Don’t give up.” A storm of conflicting emotions whirled inside him: gratitude toward Itsuki, the pressure of his brother’s gaze, the sting of Sora’s mocking words. I can’t give up… He swallowed hard and forced himself to stand, ignoring the screaming protests of his muscles. Yet as he lifted his fists, he realized how badly his body was shaking. Sora stood a few paces away, smug grin firmly in place. He no longer looked merely confident; he looked amused, as though he were toying with a clueless opponent. Shunjiro took one step forward, and his knees nearly buckled. I can’t… my body won’t keep up. Defeat settled over him like a cloak of lead, crushing what remained of his resolve. A long silence hovered in the arena. Finally, the announcer declared Sora the winner. Shunjiro’s shoulders slumped. The roaring crowd, the swirl of movement, the buzzing chatter, it all faded as a dull ache coiled in his chest. I thought I could prove myself, but… maybe I really am just a fluke. Each step away from the battle ring felt heavier than the last. His face burned with humiliation. The image of Sora’s sneering grin replayed in his mind, over and over, dredging up fresh waves of shame. When he peeked at the stands where Takeshi had been, all he saw was an empty spot. He left… Shunjiro’s throat tightened. Was he disappointed? Or did he realize I’m not worth watching? He clenched his fists and breathed in slowly, trying, and failing, to calm the swirl of frustration and self-doubt churning inside. I never wanted to fail in front of him again… Itsuki caught up to him in the tunnel leading out of the arena, gently placing a hand on his arm. “Shunjiro… are you okay?” she asked softly. He forced a nod, though his voice cracked when he spoke. “I’m fine. Just… give me a minute.” Itsuki’s concern shone in her eyes, but she respected his space, letting him walk ahead. Further down the corridor, Yoshinori and Sora stood talking in low voices. They both glanced over at Shunjiro as he passed by, Sora with a smug look, Yoshinori with calm, almost clinical curiosity. “Hey, Sora,” Yoshinori murmured just loud enough for Shunjiro to hear. “What do you think of him? That S-rank can’t be all luck.” Sora rolled his eyes. “Maybe not. But if he is powerful, he’s got a lot to learn.” He jerked his chin at Shunjiro’s retreating form. “I’ve seen tough guys crumble from smaller hits. We’ll see if the shrimp can handle real battles.” Shunjiro’s heart twisted in renewed embarrassment, but a flicker of determination ran through him. I’ll show them. One day, they’ll know I’m not just a fluke. A short while later, as crowds spilled out from the arena and into the lively avenues, Takeshi slipped away. The bustling marketplace was a swirl of sights and sounds: vendors hawking goods, travelers bargaining, and children darting between stalls. Towering buildings of polished stone cast long shadows in the late-day sun. Near the edge of the street, half-hidden by the stream of passersby, Takeshi paused. He wore worn, dusty clothes and carried the faint smell of a recent journey. A rough goatee framed a small, knowing grin. Though his face was mostly obscured by the hood of his tattered cloak, that slight curl at the corner of his mouth said everything. “Not bad, kid,” he murmured, voice low but proud. “Took a beating, but you got up again. You’re gonna catch up to me one day…” His grin widened just a fraction. Then he turned and melted into the bustling crowd, disappearing among the throng of travelers and adventurers. High above, the sun broke through a bank of clouds, illuminating the winding streets. Shunjiro remained unaware of his brother’s quiet departure. But somewhere, beneath the sting of loss, he still harbored a spark of determination, one that Takeshi clearly believed would blaze brighter with time.