When Yuki stepped back into the arena, he immediately knew something had changed.
The Crucible no longer resembled the fractured battlefield of Stage One. The broken stone had been cleared away. The dust had settled. The chaos had been erased as if it had never existed.
In the exact center stood a single raised square platform.
Smooth. Polished. Almost ceremonial.
And surrounding it—
A glowing orange cubic force field.
It shimmered faintly, lines of Kizo running through its edges like molten circuitry. The barrier pulsed with contained authority. Whatever happened inside that cube would stay inside.
Yuki tilted his head.
"…Did they shrink the arena because we're expensive now?"
The other nine remaining contestants stood in a straight line across the arena floor.
Ten survivors.
Yuki found himself near the center—four fighters to his right, five to his left.
Ren stood directly on his left.
Derek stood on his right, loose posture, shoulders relaxed. He wasn't smiling, but there was a subtle energy in him, like a coiled spring that just enjoyed being here.
Yuki glanced past Derek—
And froze.
"…Huh?"
Renjiro Kurosawa.
Straight posture. Chin slightly raised. Eyes forward. That controlled intensity radiating off him like heat before a wildfire.
Yuki blinked.
He was here the whole time?
Renjiro didn't look at him.
But the corner of his mouth twitched slightly upward.
Star pupil.
Yuki felt something tighten inside his chest.
He made it this far too…
An official descended from above, landing lightly before the lineup.
His voice boomed across the arena.
"For Stage Two, only eight fighters may proceed."
A ripple of noise spread through the crowd.
"Two contestants will be eliminated… by audience decision."
The arena went still.
Yuki blinked.
"…By the crowd? So if I trip and fall right now, I'm done?"
Ren didn't look at him.
"Try it."
Yuki leaned slightly toward him.
"You're still mad about the slap? Don't take it personal, you slapped my sister first."
Ren's jaw tightened.
His voice lowered.
"I didn't enter this tournament to win."
Yuki paused.
Ren finally turned his head, eyes sharp.
"I entered to humiliate you."
Yuki stared at him.
"…That's kind of romantic."
Ren's eye twitched.
The official continued calmly.
"I will point at each contestant. Cheer for the ones you wish to remain. Remain silent for those you wish to eliminate."
The tension thickened instantly.
Not a battle of strength.
A battle of perception.
The official began from the far right.
He pointed.
Silence.
The fighter swallowed.
A barrier flare surrounded him.
Eliminated.
The crowd murmured.
The official moved to the next.
Cheers rose. Not overwhelming, but safe.
He continued down the line.
When he pointed at Ren—
The response was loud. Confident. Respectful.
Ren crossed his arms, chin lifting slightly.
He didn't smile.
But he inhaled deeply.
He expected it.
The official moved again.
And then—
He pointed at Yuki.
There was half a second of silence.
Then—
The arena erupted.
Not cheers.
An explosion.
A tidal surge of screams and applause crashed down from every direction.
"YUKI!!" "DO IT AGAIN!!" "HE STOOD BACK UP!!" "HE'S SO HOT!!"
Yuki blinked.
"…Did I miss something? Why the hype?"
The volume increased.
It dwarfed Ren's applause.
It swallowed the stadium.
Yuki scratched his head.
"I didn't even do anything cool…"
Someone screamed his name so loudly their voice cracked.
Yuki slowly raised two fingers in a lazy peace sign.
The reaction doubled.
High-pitched shrieks tore through the air.
Several girls near the front nearly fainted.
Ren stared at him.
"…You're kidding."
Derek let out a quiet breath, watching carefully.
"…He hasn't used Kizo. Not once."
Yet the crowd was louder for Yuki than anyone else.
Not for dominance.
Not for skill.
For heart.
For stubbornness.
For that idiotic grin.
Yuki lowered his hand, looking genuinely confused.
"I literally just stood here."
The official moved to Derek.
Cheers rose again—strong, competitive, impressed.
Derek rolled his shoulders once, energy building beneath calm skin.
He didn't play to the crowd.
He didn't need to.
When Renjiro was pointed at—
Applause came.
But it lacked weight.
Polite. Curious. Reserved.
Many hadn't truly seen him unleash himself yet.
Renjiro's expression darkened slightly.
His pride didn't like that.
Yuki noticed.
They don't know what he can do…
The final contestant was pointed at.
Silence.
The second elimination.
Eight remained.
The official raised his hand.
"Stage Two begins now. One-on-one elimination matches. Winners proceed."
The orange cube pulsed brighter.
The commentator's voice thundered.
"And our first matchup—!"
The crowd leaned forward.
"Yuki Kinatarou versus Renjiro Kurosawa!"
The arena exploded again.
Yuki turned slowly.
Renjiro was already staring at him.
And this time—
He was smiling.
Not calm.
Not reserved.
Hungry.
"Perfect," Renjiro said, heat creeping into his voice. "I don't have to waste time."
Yuki tilted his head.
"Waste time doing what?"
"Humiliating you."
The air around Renjiro felt warmer already.
"You've always been a stain in the class, all the kizo users there were strong and I received the praise. But then you, a zero showed up and stole it all." Renjiro continued. "All that noise. All that attention. No refinement. No control."
Yuki blinked.
"…I study sometimes."
Renjiro's lip curled.
"I will burn that smile off your face."
Yuki grinned wider.
"That seems excessive."
High above the arena, within the crystalline Kyorin observation sphere, the family watched.
Seri stood closest to the glass.
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
When the crowd had erupted for Yuki—
Her chest had tightened painfully.
They loved him.
Without rank.
Without dominance.
Without elegance.
Lord Genji leaned forward.
"…His presence commands the masses. I feel kinda proud having him as my student."
An elder nodded slowly.
"He bends sentiment without bending Kizo."
Emi's eyes narrowed.
"He's the weakest among the eight in output."
Below, Derek stood poised.
Ren simmered with revenge.
Renjiro radiated heat.
But Yuki—
Yuki had stolen the arena.
Seri swallowed.
He doesn't even know what he's doing…
She had lied to him.
Afraid.
Afraid he didn't love her.
Afraid he only felt attraction.
Afraid she would confess and lose everything.
Now thousands screamed his name.
Handsome. Alive. Glowing under attention.
What if someone braver claimed him?
Her nails pressed into her palms.
I should have told him.
Below, Yuki stretched casually.
He glanced up at the massive crowd and laughed lightly.
"So if I lose, please pretend I tripped on something cool."
Renjiro stepped toward the cube entrance.
"I won't give you the chance to joke."
Yuki followed him.
Still smiling.
Still clueless.
Still burning in a way no one fully understood.
The gates to the orange cube opened.
Heat and expectation filled the air.
And the real tournament—
Finally—
Began.
The orange cube split open with a low mechanical hum.
Heat rolled out from within like the breath of some caged beast.
Yuki stepped forward first, hands laced behind his head as if he were entering a practice hall instead of a battlefield.
Renjiro followed, posture straight, eyes burning long before the flames ever appeared.
The cube sealed shut behind them.
The hum deepened.
They stood opposite each other.
Twenty paces apart.
The arena felt smaller now. Compressed. Focused. Every spectator leaning in. Every breath amplified.
Renjiro cracked his neck once.
"I won't hold back," he said, voice sharp, heat already distorting the air around him. "I'm going to crush you properly."
Yuki rolled his shoulders lazily.
"Wow. Straight to violence. No small talk? No compliments on my hair?"
Renjiro's eye twitched.
The official's voice rang out from beyond the barrier.
"Begin!"
Renjiro moved instantly.
No warning.
No buildup.
A blazing fireball tore from his palm and screamed across the cube.
Yuki was still stretching.
Instinct took over.
His body shifted on its own.
He leapt sideways.
The ground beneath his feet cracked violently from the force of his push-off, stone splintering outward in jagged lines.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
The fireball missed.
Or it should have.
But it curved midair.
Tracking him.
The entire arena inhaled sharply.
"It follows him?!" someone shouted.
Yuki glanced over his shoulder.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
The fireball closed in.
No more room to evade.
No more time.
Yuki twisted midair, planted one foot down hard enough to fracture the stone again, and arched his arm back.
For half a second—
Silence.
Then he punched.
The impact didn't touch the flame directly.
It didn't need to.
The sheer force of his strike compressed the air in front of him so violently that a visible shockwave burst outward.
The fireball collapsed.
Extinguished mid-flight.
A hollow boom echoed through the cube.
The crowd exploded.
"He punched it out?!" "That wasn't Kizo!" "That was just strength?!"
Before Yuki could even settle—
Renjiro was already there.
Fire wrapped around his fist as he drove it toward Yuki's face.
Yuki's head tilted back just in time.
The flaming knuckles grazed past his cheek, heat scorching skin.
He twisted his torso mid-motion and drove a sharp kick into Renjiro's stomach.
Renjiro blocked with his forearm—
But the impact sent him sliding back several feet, shoes grinding across the platform.
He dug in, stopping himself.
Flames flared higher around him.
Yuki settled into a stance.
Loose.
Unorthodox.
Weight shifted slightly forward.
It didn't resemble anything taught in academy manuals.
But it radiated danger.
Renjiro mirrored him, lowering into a traditional offensive stance, flames coiling tightly around his arms.
The crowd roared.
The energy had shifted from curiosity to hunger.
High above, Yukari leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
Luna watched quietly, analyzing every movement.
Haruki yawned loudly from a couch behind them.
"This is predictable," he muttered before rolling onto his side and promptly falling asleep.
Inside the cube—
Renjiro launched forward again.
Another blast.
Then another.
Then a third.
He fired one straight at Yuki while closing the distance himself.
Yuki sprang upward, clearing the first blast with impossible lightness.
He landed smoothly and charged.
Behind him—
The fireball curved again.
Following.
The crowd screamed warnings.
"He's behind you!"
Yuki threw a flurry of punches at Renjiro as he approached.
Fast.
Accurate.
But deliberately slow enough for Renjiro to block.
Renjiro smirked.
"You're sloppy."
Then—
Yuki suddenly slipped to the side.
Completely out of Renjiro's path.
Renjiro's eyes widened.
Too late.
The tracking fireball slammed directly into him.
A violent explosion consumed the center of the platform.
Shockwaves rattled the barrier.
Smoke billowed outward.
The crowd gasped in unison.
Yuki landed several feet away from the blast, exhaling.
"…Got him?"
The smoke lingered.
Then—
A silhouette emerged.
Unharmed.
Renjiro stood with his arms folded, flames coiling protectively around him.
"That won't work," he said coldly. "You're stupid."
The crowd murmured.
Yuki's grin faded slightly.
He exhaled slowly.
Head-on won't work.
He's stronger at range.
Renjiro thrust both hands forward.
Three fireballs erupted simultaneously.
They shot toward Yuki in a triangular formation.
Yuki stepped forward instead of back.
He punched the first.
Extinguished.
Spun and struck the second.
Gone.
The third—
Too close.
It slammed into his torso and detonated.
The blast launched him backward like a ragdoll.
His body crashed into the orange barrier with a thunderous impact.
The cube flickered.
He dropped to his knees.
Silence fell over the arena.
His clothes were partially burned.
Smoke rose faintly from his shoulders.
His head hung low, hair falling over his eyes.
Renjiro smirked.
"…Pathetic."
The audience held their breath.
Seri's fingers tightened around the railing in the observation sphere.
Not like this.
Renjiro walked slowly toward Yuki.
Each step deliberate.
He extended his hand, flame gathering once more.
"I told you—"
Suddenly—
Yuki's hand shot up.
He grabbed Renjiro's wrist.
Hard.
Renjiro's eyes widened.
In one fluid motion, Yuki twisted, pulled, and dropped his weight.
Renjiro was slammed face-first onto the platform.
The impact echoed brutally.
Before Renjiro could react—
Yuki was on his back.
One knee planted firmly between his shoulders.
Renjiro's arm wrenched behind him at a severe angle.
A collective gasp swept through the arena.
The hold was precise.
Brutal.
Inescapable.
"Yield," Yuki said firmly.
Renjiro struggled, flames surging along his body.
He increased his temperature rapidly.
Heat rippled outward.
The air shimmered.
But Yuki tightened his grip.
The sound of joints straining filled the cube.
"If you try anything," Yuki said evenly, bending the arm further, "you're leaving without this."
Renjiro grit his teeth.
Pain shot through his shoulder.
The flames flickered.
The crowd erupted into applause.
They understood.
This wasn't brute force.
This was strategy.
Adaptation.
Control.
Renjiro trembled.
"…Yield."
The word tore from him.
The official's voice rang out.
"Match concluded! Winner—Yuki Kinatarou!"
The cube dissolved.
The crowd exploded.
Yuki released him immediately and stood.
Renjiro rolled to his side, clutching his arm.
His head hung low.
Humiliation burned hotter than his flames ever had.
As he walked out, he whispered to himself—
I will make him pay for this.
Yuki turned toward the exit.
Cheers thundered from every direction.
He lifted his hand in acknowledgment—
And promptly tripped.
He hit the floor face-first.
There was half a second of stunned silence.
Then—
The entire arena burst into laughter.
Yuki groaned, pushing himself up.
"I meant to do that."
He took two confident steps.
And tripped again.
This time even he started laughing.
High above—
Seri covered her mouth.
A soft sound escaped her.
A giggle.
Small at first.
Then warmer.
He had just fought like a storm.
And now he couldn't walk in a straight line.
The tightness in her chest loosened.
The fear.
The jealousy.
The anxiety.
For a moment—
They melted.
He wasn't some unreachable idol bathed in applause.
He was still Yuki.
Still ridiculous.
Still bright.
And somehow—
That made her love him even more.