"— THE FIGHT OF THE CENTURY!
— THE ENIGMA VS PERFECTION!
— ONE'S GOING TO GET DESTROYED.
— Or not. Did you see Chloé?
— Chloé threw up, that's not a fight.
— GRANN IS INVINCIBLE.
— No one's invincible."
— Yes, Grann is.
— OH... LALA GRANN IS SO HANDSOME.
— We're talking about fighting here, go be a slut somewhere else.
The arena screen went dark, then lit up again.
Two silhouettes appeared.
One, hands in his pockets, calmly chewing gum, staring into space with his usual expression.
Grann, perfect, motionless, his eyes fixed on his opponent with a new intensity.
In the corridor leading to the arena, Grann stopped for a second.
He closed his eyes.
I must be perfect. I am perfection.
I cannot lose.
He entered...
---
IN THE DOME'S MAIN ARENA.
The Dome held its breath.
Two silhouettes stood face to face in the center of the arena, under the blinding spotlights. Sixty thousand pairs of eyes stared at this historic confrontation.
Grann, perfection incarnate. The prodigy of Sublimation. He who had never sweated, never retreated, never doubted.
One, the living enigma. He who had beaten Brick without lifting a finger, Axel by walking, Chloé by existing. He whom no one understood anything about.
Grann observed One with a new intensity. For the first time since the tournament began, he wasn't looking at an opponent. He was looking at a mystery.
One, for his part, was looking at the ground. Then the ceiling. Then his shoes. Then the ground.
The referee raised his hand, ready to start the fight.
---
SOMEWHERE IN THE CITY
Shadow G was sprawled on the back seat of a taxi, windows open, the wind tousling his messy hair. He was staring at his phone with a gloomy eye.
"Yeah, I'm coming. I'm almost there."
The voice on the other end was calm, precise, authoritative. That of Eagle, one of the executives of the Heroes' Association.
"Hurry up and get out of that taxi and come as quickly as possible."
Shadow G's eyes widened.
"...How do you know I'm in a taxi?"
Silence.
"I know everything, G. Now, get moving."
The call ended.
Shadow G looked at his phone, then at the driver, then at the sky.
"...I should have stayed in bed."
---
BACK IN THE ARENA
— READY?
One nodded, distractedly. Grann inclined his head once.
— FIGHT!
But no one moved.
Grann remained still, hands behind his back. One too. A minute passed. Two.
The audience began to murmur, impatient.
"— What are they doing?
— Why aren't they fighting?
— Is this a joke?"
Grann finally spoke. His calm, steady voice filled the arena.
"ONE. Is that it?"
"One. I want to understand you."
One looked at him, perplexed.
"...Why?"
"Because you're the only one I can't analyze. Your movements are random. Your reactions, unpredictable. The limit of your Ether gauge..." He paused. "...doesn't exist."
One shrugged.
"I get hungry, sometimes."
Grann didn't react. He bent down, picked up a small pebble from the ground.
"Before we begin. I'm going to show you the gap in level between us."
He threw the pebble towards One. A normal throw, without Ether, without Sublimation.
The pebble described a perfectly ordinary parabola... and landed at One's feet, without touching him.
One looked down at the pebble.
"...It fell."
Grann picked up a second pebble.
"Now, watch."
He threw it the same way. But this time, a fraction of a second before it reached One, he murmured:
"Sublimation."
The pebble exploded forward. It passed a hair's breadth from One's ear, crossed the arena at supersonic speed, and embedded itself in the Dome's wall with a deafening impact sound. CRACK.
The wall cracked. Debris fell.
One slowly turned his head towards the impact, then towards Grann.
"...Ah."
Grann waited for a reaction. Fear. Admiration. A spark of understanding.
One scratched his head.
"I didn't get it."
A silence.
"...Alright," said Grann, a hint of frustration in his voice. "That was the theory. Let's move to practice."
He charged.
His speed was phenomenal – not Zane's, but a perfectly controlled acceleration, saving every muscle, every ounce of energy. His fist shot out, direct, precise.
One ducked.
The fist passed above him.
"Oh, but it's blood," said One, looking at the ground. "There's a stain."
Grann, already airborne, followed up with a spinning kick.
One, still bent down, let it pass.
Grann landed, pivoted, attacked again. A hook. A straight punch. A sweep.
One dodged. Stepped back. Bent down. Stood up.
"BUT WHAT IS HE DOING?!" screamed Lola.
In the honor stand, Captain Man had just arrived, out of breath. Next to him, Shadow G had appeared in a swirl of shadows, landing heavily in his seat.
"You're late," said Captain Man without looking at him.
"I know." Shadow G lit a cigarette. "Why are you here, you?"
Captain Man paused.
"I'm in charge of monitoring One since that day. In an alley."
Shadow G looked at him, surprised.
"...Seriously?"
"Seriously. That kid... he's not normal. Apparently the Association ran tests on him recently but they couldn't get anything, so they deduced he was devoid of Ether."
"Which is impossible, we agree."
Shadow G whistled softly.
"And now we're going to see him fight against the perfect guy." He blew a smoke ring. "This is going to be funny."
---
IN THE ARENA
Grann kept attacking. His blows became faster, more precise, more powerful. Every movement was sublimated, optimized, perfect.
One dodged. Again. Again. Again.
A kick headed towards his shoulder. He couldn't completely avoid it; it was a roundhouse kick. Grann's foot struck him violently, what power deployed.
But One stopped.
He looked at Grann, incredulous.
"...Why are you hitting so hard?"
Grann blinked.
"You trying to kill me or what?"
An awkward silence.
"Me, originally, I came because they promised me a costume. A cool thing, with a cape."
Grann, bewildered, didn't respond.
One grabbed his leg – the one that had just hit him – and pushed him far away. Not violently. Just enough to unbalance him.
Grann stepped back several meters, eyes wide. He tried to leap again, but his leg... his leg was aching.
He fell to his knees.
"What...?"
He had reduced the effect of his blow to a minimum. A simple caress. How... how could simply being pushed back cause so much damage?
One looked at him, tilting his head.
"You hurt?"
In the stand, Captain Man leaned forward, fascinated.
"He didn't strike. He just... pushed. But Grann's leg... it took the impact as if One had sent back all the energy of his own attacks."
Shadow G slowly nodded his head.
"This guy... he's a mirror. Not a mirror that reflects. A mirror that returns."
Grann got up, his leg trembling. His pride was in shambles. His perfection, tarnished. For the first time, he felt something he had never known.
Fear.
He attacked again. Harder. Faster. Each blow was a work of martial art, sublimated to its maximum.
One dodged. Always. Hands in his pockets. Vacant stare.
"WHERE DID HE LEARN TO DODGE LIKE THAT?!" yelled Captain Man.
Shadow G shrugged.
"Maybe he didn't learn. Maybe he was just born like that."
Suddenly, One stumbled.
Chance. A simple misstep on an uneven part of the ground. His head lurched forward and hit Grann's chest.
BOOM.
The impact threw Grann backwards. He flew across the arena, slid several meters, and stopped dead, winded.
The crowd roared.
"HE HIT HIM WITH HIS HEAD!"
"WHAT KIND OF FIGHT IS THIS?!"
"GRANN IS DOWN!"
Grann got up, his eyes wild. No more calm. No more perfection. Just a cold, animal rage.
He charged, ready to give it his all.
Then he stopped.
One, a few meters away, wasn't even looking at him. He was crouched down, staring at something on the ground.
A coin. Dropped by a spectator who had wanted to buy a hot dog.
One picked it up, made it shine between his fingers, a smile on his lips.
"Oh, a coin!"
Grann stared at him. The only opponent he deemed worthy of him. The enigma he wanted to unravel. The mystery he wanted to solve.
And this guy was picking up a coin.
He let go.
His momentum still carried him, but his body no longer followed. He passed over One, still crouched, and continued his run. Out of the arena. Out of the square.
He landed heavily on the ground, outside.
He didn't get up.
He just sat there, eyes lost, looking at his hands, looking into space.
The referee, after a long moment of confusion, blew his whistle.
— OUT OF BOUNDS! WINNER: ONE!
Silence.
Then, strangely, applause for Grann.
"GRANN! GRANN! GRANN!"
Networks exploded, but not for One.
#GrannCourage: 30M views.
#OneLucky: 25M views.
#HeDidntEvenFight: 20M views.
Comments poured in:
"— Grann is the only one who really fought.
— One won by chance. It's nonsense.
— He picked up a coin during the fight! A coin!
— Grann deserved to win. It's an injustice.
— One is useless. He got lucky."
In the stand, Shadow G burst out laughing.
"This is the first time I've seen someone reach the finals with LUCK!"
Captain Man didn't laugh. He was watching One, who was carefully putting his coin away in his pocket.
"One day, all of the Association's machines bugged trying to analyze him." His voice was grave. "All of them. At the same time."
Shadow G stopped laughing.
"...You're kidding?"
"No."
Lola, on her podium, tried to keep a straight face.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN... WHAT A... UM... SURPRISING FIGHT! ONE IS THEREFORE THE FIRST FINALIST OF THE TOURNAMENT! THE FINAL WILL TAKE PLACE IN THREE DAYS! STAY TUNED!"
---
K CITY HOSPITAL – ROOM 112
The room was small, clean, lit by the soft light of the sunset. An elderly woman was lying in the bed, flowers on the bedside table.
The door opened.
Grann entered. He was crying.
His mother looked at him, a gentle smile on her lips.
"My son."
He collapsed to his knees by the bed, his head in his hands.
"I failed. I wasn't perfect. I... I lost."
His mother placed a fragile hand on his hair.
"No one is perfect, Grann."
He looked up at her with red, pleading eyes.
"But you always told me I had to..."
"I told you that you had to be yourself. Not perfect."
She stroked his hair.
"I don't seek for you to be perfect. I seek for you to be yourself. I love you as you are, my son. First learn to see your flaws. You seek perfection by rejecting flaws. That's not good. Start by accepting that you can have them."
Grann looked at her for a long time.
Her words resonated in his head. A small seed planted in the arid soil of his ego.
Accept my flaws.
He dried his tears, slowly.
"...I must become stronger. To never make you cry again."
His mother smiled.
"You've never made me cry, my son. You've always made me proud."
---
ELSEWHERE NEAR A NOODLE STAND
One was sitting on a stool, a steaming bowl in front of him. Next to him, Kotobe, his arms in slings, his face bruised, but smiling.
"You won," said Kotobe.
"Mhh...we," replied One, blowing on his noodles.
"You didn't even fight."
"Really?"
Kotobe burst out laughing, a painful laugh because of his broken ribs.
"You're really something, you know."
One handed him a pair of chopsticks.
"Eat. It's good."
Kotobe took the chopsticks, clumsily grabbed a noodle, and brought it to his mouth.
"...It's good, indeed."
They ate in silence, under the Dome's artificial stars.
Tomorrow, they would be opponents. But tonight, they were just two kids who had survived.