The screen's light carved the room in two.
On one side, shadow. On the other, a cold, almost clinical brightness that illuminated Grann's face without truly warming it.
He was sitting upright, as always. Perfectly aligned back, shoulders relaxed but never slumped. Even alone, even past midnight, he allowed himself no slackening.
Habit.
Or perhaps a prison.
His fingers slid slowly over the keyboard. No useless gestures. No rushing. Each click was thoughtful, almost calculated.
On the screen:
Name: ONE
Ranking: Unrankable
Affinity: Unknown
Abilities: —
Grann stared at the screen.
Silence.
A heavy silence, nothing to do with calm. It was the kind of silence that precedes something... or hides something.
— ...This is a joke.
His voice was low, steady. But behind it, there was tension.
He scrolled.
Again.
Again.
Still nothing.
— Impossible.
Grann wasn't the type to believe in chance. In his world, chance was an excuse used by those who didn't understand.
Everything can be explained.
Always.
So why did this file... say nothing?
He opened another tab.
Tournament fight archives.
This time, he found something.
Several recordings. Official matches. Noted fights... but strangely poorly documented.
It was the fights from ONE's journey since the beginning of the tournament, but nothing else.
He played the first video.
—
The Dome arena.
A ranked opponent.
A classic fight start.
Then...
Nothing.
No identifiable technique. No stance. No logic.
The fight ended too quickly.
Grann tilted his head slightly.
He replayed it.
Then again.
He slowed the video.
Frame by frame.
— ...No.
He straightened up.
His eyes narrowed.
— ...he doesn't attack...
He paused.
The opponent was on the ground.
One... standing.
No stance.
No tension.
No... intention.
— What is this...?
He played another video.
Same thing.
Another one.
Always the same.
No style.
No structure.
No possible reading.
And yet... victory.
Grann slowly placed his hands on the desk.
Then...
He took a deep breath.
— Are you kidding me.
For the first time, a crack.
A real one.
Not in his control.
In his understanding.
And that... he hated.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
And that's when it began.
—
The past doesn't knock. It imposes itself.
FLASHBACK.
A smell.
Subtle.
Almost forgotten.
The perfume.
Always that perfume.
—
An immense house.
Too big.
Too silent.
Too perfect.
—
— Straighten up.
The voice was cold. Cutting.
Not loud.
No need.
Young Grann straightened up immediately.
Back straight.
Gaze fixed.
Breathing controlled.
— Again.
A strike landed.
Sharp.
Precise.
The boy didn't scream.
He didn't even move.
— Elegance is not a choice. It's an obligation.
His father looked at him the way one looks at a defective object.
— You are my son. You cannot be... mediocre.
Grann nodded.
— Yes, father.
Always calm.
Always perfect.
But in his eyes... something trembled.
—
The years passed.
Lessons.
Training.
Martial arts.
All of them.
Without exception.
— You must be better than others.
— Yes, father.
— You must be irreproachable.
— Yes, father.
— You don't have the right to fail.
— Yes, father.
Grann learned fast.
Too fast.
His body adapted.
His mind absorbed.
He became... exactly what was expected of him.
Charisma.
Beauty.
Control.
Intelligence.
Strength.
A constructed perfection.
Not chosen.
—
But there was one flaw.
Just one.
A thought.
That kept coming back.
Again.
And again.
—
One day.
He said it.
— I want to become a hero.
Silence.
A real one.
Not the silence of night.
The one before the storm.
—
The first blow was more violent than the others.
Then a second.
Then a third.
— A hero?!
His father's voice was no longer cold.
It burned.
— You want to abandon all this?! FOR THAT?!
Grann remained standing.
He was trembling.
But he didn't fall.
— It's not an acceptable dream.
A blow.
— It's not a worthy goal.
Another.
— You are my son!
Again.
— You will inherit the company!
Grann looked up.
For the first time.
— No.
Silence returned.
But this time... it was dangerous.
—
That evening, everything changed.
—
Back to the present.
—
Grann opened his eyes.
The screen's light was still there.
But something had changed.
His gaze.
Harder.
More... human.
He stood up.
Slowly.
Walked to the window.
The city was calm.
Too calm.
— A hero...
He almost murmured.
Then he clenched his fist slightly.
— I paid the price for that.
His gaze returned to the screen.
To One.
— And you... what are you?
—
Flashbacks
—
His mother.
Lying down.
Tired.
But smiling.
Always.
— You should sleep a little...
— I'm fine.
Lie.
She knew it.
But she said nothing.
—
— You look like him.
Grann frowned slightly.
— No.
— Not the way you think.
She weakly reached out her hand.
He took it.
— You're strong... but you don't want to crush others.
Silence.
— That's why you want to be a hero.
Grann lowered his eyes slightly.
— I want to be useful.
She smiled.
— Then you will be.
—
Return.
—
Grann turned.
Grabbed his jacket.
Went out.
—
The night air was cold.
But he didn't react.
He walked.
Straight.
Calm.
As always.
—
The cemetery.
Silent.
Still.
—
He stopped before a grave.
A long moment.
Without speaking.
—
Then he placed the bouquet.
Carefully.
— I never understood your vision of the world.
His voice was steady.
— But... I understood you.
Silence.
— You wanted to control what couldn't be controlled.
He raised his eyes slightly.
— Me too.
A breath.
— Tomorrow... I'm going to face something I don't understand.
Pause.
— And this time... I won't try to control.
He closed his eyes for a second.
— I'll force the truth to appear.
—
He straightened up.
—
Hospital.
—
The light was white.
Almost aggressive.
His mother was sleeping.
Weakly.
—
He approached.
Sat down.
—
— I'm going to win.
Simple.
Direct.
—
— Not for him.
Silence.
— For me.
—
A slight movement.
She barely opened her eyes.
A fragile smile.
—
— You already have...
—
Grann stayed there.
A few seconds.
Then stood up.
—
Return.
Apartment.
—
He sat back down before the screen.
But this time...
He didn't watch the videos.
He observed them.
Differently.
—
— You're not hiding anything...
Murmur.
—
— There's just... nothing to read.
—
And then.
An idea.
—
He straightened up.
His eyes changed.
—
— So if I can't read you...
A slight smile.
Rare.
—
— I'll force you to write.
—
He closed the computer.
The room plunged back into shadow.
—
But this time...
It was no longer an empty silence.
—
It was a silence before impact.
—
Tomorrow.
He wasn't going to try to win.
—
He was going to try to understand.
—
And in his world...
Understanding someone...
Meant breaking them.
—
Or breaking yourself.
—
And somewhere...
Very far from there...
—
One was sleeping.
Peacefully.
—
As if nothing...
Was going to happen.
—
As if...
The whole world...
Held no importance.
—
And that was precisely the problem.
Tomorrow was the big day: the tournament semi-finals.
And as fights, we have heavy hitters.
ONE VS GRANN
KOTOBE VS VIPERS
Get ready, One...
Said One to himself, confident of his victory.