The arena had gone loud, then quiet, then something in between - the kind of hush that learns to breathe around a heartbeat.
Two figures stood at the edge of a ruined concourse. Raizen rolled his shoulders once, blade low, weight settled. Hikari set her staff across her back like a line drawn on purpose. The floor between them had been a market once - stalls blown open, signs hanging from one bolt, a tram car sunk at a bad angle like it had tried to pretend it was a boat and failed.
The host tried to be himself. The mic cracked. "Final two on deck. If you're holding your breath, please pass it to a friend when you faint." Then he stopped talking like that and let the bowl hear his real voice. "Neoshima… You might want to watch this!"
The scoreboard thinned to two names that glowed brighter for being alone.
