The medic room smelled like herbs, disinfectant, and burnt pride.
Rows of injured students lay on floating beds, glowing healing sigils hovering above them.
On one bed, Kijin sat half-upright, bandages wrapped around his ribs and shoulder, an ice charm pressed to his cheek.
Across from him, Nairo lay with his torso wrapped tight, bruises coloring his jaw and arms. One eye was slightly swollen, but his expression remained cold.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then—
Kijin snorted. "…You looked like trash out there."
Nairo slowly turned his head. "…You flew across the arena like a kicked dog."
Silence.
Then both started laughing.
It hurt.
They both groaned, clutching their injuries.
"Shut up," Kijin muttered. "You fought that psycho Kurojin head-on. That's stupid bravery."
Nairo scoffed. "You insulted a lightning monster stronger than you. That's brain damage."
Kijin smirked. "My bloodline demands poor life decisions."
Nairo snorted. "Your bloodline probably trips over air."
"At least my ancestors weren't scared of shadows," Kijin shot back.
"My ancestors ruled them."
"Yeah? Then why'd they produce you?"
They glared.
Then both smirked again.
"…Still," Nairo muttered, quieter now, "…you lasted longer than anyone expected."
Kijin leaned back lazily. "…You almost had him. One more hit and Kurojin would've felt it."
Silence settled again.
Then—
The door slid open.
Both boys froze.
Tsuramo stood there.
Red hair falling around sharp crimson eyes. Expression calm. Too calm.
Neither liked that calm.
Tsuramo looked at both of them. "Get up."
Kijin blinked. "…What?"
"Warm up."
Nairo frowned. "We just fought."
Tsuramo's gaze sharpened slightly. "You both fight again."
Silence.
Then—
Kijin shot upright. "WHAT?!"
He pointed at himself. "Look at me! I'm held together by bandages and disappointment!"
Tsuramo didn't blink.
"Move."
Kijin flopped back dramatically. "I refuse! My spirit is injured!"
Nairo already swung his legs off the bed.
"…Shut up and stand," he muttered.
Kijin stared. "…Traitor."
Nairo smirked faintly. "…You complained less when insulting Raigen."
Tsuramo turned and walked out.
Meaning discussion over.
Kijin groaned loudly.
"…This school is abuse."
Arena — Moments Later
The crowd murmured again.
Some were confused.
Others excited.
"Injury rematch?"
"They're insane."
"Why are they fighting again?"
Nairo stepped into the arena first.
Bandages wrapped around his torso and arms. Bruises visible. Hair tied back, one eye still partly hidden.
But his posture?
Sharp.
Focused.
Ready.
Across the arena—
Kurojin walked in, hands in pockets.
He looked mildly annoyed.
"…You again?"
Nairo's jaw tightened. "You mocked me."
Kurojin shrugged. "You lost."
Nairo's shadow stretched across the arena floor, darkening unnaturally. "…So I'm fixing that."
The crowd leaned forward.
Up in the stands—
Kijin shouted from the railing, bandages flapping.
"HEY SHADOW FACE! DON'T DIE AGAIN! I DON'T WANNA TRAIN ALONE, BASTARD!"
Nairo didn't look back.
But his lips twitched slightly.
Kurojin cracked his neck lazily. "…Fine. Let's see if round two lasts longer."
The bell began to ring.
And the arena held its breath.
------
Rematch: Nairo vs Kurojin
The bell rang.
And the arena atmosphere changed instantly.
This wasn't a training match anymore.
This felt personal.
Nairo stood still, bandages wrapped tight around his ribs, bruises still fresh. His breathing was already heavier than normal.
Across from him, Kurojin rolled his shoulders lazily, glowing lines already flickering across his arms.
"You sure you're not here to embarrass yourself twice?" Kurojin called out.
A few students laughed nervously.
Nairo didn't answer.
His shadow stretched unnaturally across the arena floor.
Longer.
Darker.
Kurojin smirked. "Cat got your tongue, Shadow King?"
Then—
Lightning-fast movement.
Kurojin appeared in front of Nairo and drove his knee into Nairo's stomach.
The impact folded him instantly.
Air exploded from Nairo's lungs as he crashed backward.
Gasps erupted from the crowd.
"Already?!"
"He's still injured!"
Kurojin grabbed Nairo by the collar and hurled him across the arena.
Nairo slammed into the wall.
Dust exploded.
Pain tore through his ribs.
His vision swam.
His body screamed to stay down.
Kurojin walked toward him, glowing lines writhing like snakes across the ground.
"You don't get titles just because you look edgy," Kurojin mocked. "Shadow King? You're barely a shadow servant."
Something snapped.
Nairo's fingers twitched.
The shadows around the arena thickened.
The lights dimmed slightly.
From the stands, Masakiro leaned forward.
"…He's angry."
Tsuramo's eyes narrowed slightly.
Nairo slowly stood.
Blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
His tied-back hair began to lift slightly, shadows swirling upward around him.
His voice came low.
"You insult me…"
The shadows erupted.
"…You insult my name."
His shadow rose behind him like a massive beast, eyes glowing.
The arena temperature dropped.
Even instructors shifted uneasily.
Kurojin frowned. "…What the hell?"
Nairo stepped forward.
Pain shot through his injured body, but his shadow held him up, moving with him.
"SHADOW KING TECHNIQUE—!"
His voice echoed through the arena.
"ABYSSAL DOMINION!"
Darkness surged outward.
The arena floor vanished under black shadow.
Kurojin tried to move—
But shadows wrapped around his legs.
He sliced them apart with glowing lines.
But more formed.
And more.
And more.
Nairo charged.
Kurojin countered, glowing lines whipping outward, slamming into Nairo's chest.
CRACK.
Nairo flew backward again.
Blood sprayed from his mouth.
The crowd shouted.
"STOP THE MATCH!"
"HE'S GOING TO DIE!"
Even instructors stood.
But Nairo forced himself up again.
One eye swollen.
Breathing ragged.
His shadow held him upright.
Kurojin stared, annoyed now.
"…Just stay down!"
He lunged—
But Nairo roared.
"YOU DON'T MOCK A KING AND WALK AWAY!"
His shadow surged upward, forming massive hands that caught Kurojin mid-charge.
They slammed him into the ground.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The arena shook.
Kurojin struggled, glowing lines flaring wildly, strangling shadows apart—
—but Nairo kept pushing.
His hair lifted wildly, shadow energy blazing around him.
Final strike.
"SHADOW KING — EXECUTION FALL!"
The shadow fist slammed Kurojin into the arena floor.
The impact cracked the platform.
Silence fell.
Dust settled.
Kurojin lay unconscious in the crater.
The bell rang frantically.
"Match over!"
Medics rushed in immediately.
Nairo staggered.
His shadow faded.
And he collapsed to one knee, breathing hard.
Blood dripping from his chin.
The crowd exploded.
Shock.
Cheers.
Fear.
Up in the stands—
Kijin jumped up screaming,
"THAT'S MY SHADOW IDIOT! LET'S GOOOO!"
Masakiro exhaled in relief.
Luna grinned.
Even Tsuramo nodded slightly.
Below—
Nairo looked at Kurojin's fallen body.
"…Don't forget," he muttered weakly, "who you insult."
Then medics caught him before he hit the ground.
And the arena knew—
Shadow King had just claimed his title.