Yūta got up.
Not all at once — slowly, hands on the ground first, then one knee, then the other, with the tree behind him that still bore the mark of the impact from when Tsukino had thrown him into it with everything she had.
He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
Red.
"Good," he said, quietly.
Tsukino was watching him from the other side of the clearing, her arms slightly lowered and her breathing more laboured than she would have wanted it to be. She had a bruise on her right cheekbone that had not been there twenty minutes ago and her left side was reminding her with every breath that she had taken more strikes than she had planned to take.
Yūta tried the mana.
He found it — it was there, the river, accessible — but it came out irregular, weaker than before, with the consistency of something that has been used too much and has not yet had time to recover. His hands glowed faintly with that purple that was already familiar to him, but the glow was less stable than in the previous round.
Tsukino saw it.
And charged.
The strike came with everything — not the axe but her fist, straight, with Tsukino's mana concentrated at that point in a way Yūta could not compensate for fully because his own did not have enough consistency to absorb that level of impact.
The tree found his back for the second time.
Yūta slid down to the ground.
He stayed there for a moment, with the trees of the forest turning slightly in his field of vision, taking stock of what hurt and what had simply stopped responding normally.
Almost everything.
He got up anyway.
"Not yet," he said.
Tsukino was watching him with something in her expression that was not compassion — it was recognition. The specific recognition of someone who knows what it costs to get up when the body has solid reasons not to.
"You're stubborn," she said.
"I've been told," said Yūta, and he ran.
What followed had none of the elegance of the first exchanges — it was pure exhaustion converted into movement, the two of them fighting with what they had left after everything before, which was less than either of them would have wanted to admit.
Strikes that arrived slower. Dodges that arrived just in time instead of with room to spare. The fight of two people who have spent nearly everything, but neither wants to be the first to acknowledge it.
A strike from Yūta found Tsukino's side.
A strike from Tsukino found Yūta's shoulder.
Both staggered at the same time. Both tried to compensate. Both ended up on the ground half a second apart from each other, with the forest clearing silent around them except for their own breathing which was louder than usual.
Yūta looked at the sky through the branches.
Tsukino looked in the same general direction.
"Can you move?" said Tsukino.
"A bit," said Yūta. "You?"
"A bit."
Silence.
"We pick it up in a second," said Tsukino.
"Yes," said Yūta.
That second did not get to finish.
Arimoto Kenta appeared along the right-hand path with his usual smile and his palms still carrying the residual warmth of recent flames. Wada Chiho appeared along the left with the mana bow still materialised and her eyes assessing the situation in the time it took her to scan the clearing.
Yūta saw them.
Tsukino saw them.
Neither of them could do anything about it.
Kenta crouched beside Yūta with the specific kindness of someone who genuinely feels this is a shame, but not quite enough to stop himself from doing it.
"I'm sorry," he said, and took the vial.
Chiho took Tsukino's without saying anything, with the efficiency of someone completing a task.
Kenta and Chiho's vials glowed — first the points already there, then the transferred ones, adding up to a figure that kept rising until the screen in the monitoring room registered the final number.
Seventy-six.
In the monitoring room, Kato was looking at the screen.
"Are they really going to win like that?" he said, with the irritation of someone who bet and lost.
"They're my students," said Yuna, with the calm of someone who does not need to boast because the result speaks for itself.
Kagami was watching the screen for the north sector where Kaito and Jin were still facing each other, having not seen what had happened to Yūta and Tsukino.
Kana stood.
"Tatsu," she said.
Tatsu already had the microphone.
Tatsu's voice came through the speakers distributed amongst the trees of the forest with that specific clarity of someone who has practised projecting their voice without it sounding forced.
"The tournament has concluded. The winners are Arimoto Kenta and Wada Chiho of second year, with seventy-six points."
The forest processed that in different ways depending on where you were.
Kenta raised his vial towards the sky with the energy of someone for whom winning will always be cause for celebration regardless of context. Chiho looked at hers with her usual neutral expression, though something in the way she held it suggested she was not entirely indifferent to it.
In the clearing where Yūta and Tsukino were, the two of them stayed on the ground for a moment longer before the voice finished resonating amongst the trees.
"Them," said Tsukino.
"Yes," said Yūta.
"They stole our points."
"Yes."
Tsukino tried to get up. She managed it, though the process was more complicated than she would have liked. Yūta did the same, with similar results.
When Kenta and Chiho arrived at the clearing — because it was inevitable that they would, the forest was not that large — Tsukino looked at them with an expression that had too many things inside it to come out in any order.
"You stole our points when we were on the ground," she said.
"That's the tournament," said Chiho, with her usual neutrality. "We won. Grow up."
Tsukino opened her mouth.
"I'm going to kill you—"
"Tsukino."
Yūta's hand on her arm arrived before she finished the sentence. Not with force — with the specific weight of someone who is too tired for additional fighting but still has enough sense to know this was not the moment.
Tsukino looked at him.
Then at Chiho.
Then she closed her mouth with the visible effort of someone containing something they would prefer not to contain.
"Next time," she said.
"Whenever you like," said Chiho, and went off along the path.
Kenta looked at the two of them with something that was genuinely close to an apology.
"I really am sorry," he said. "But you were there and a tournament is a tournament."
"I know," said Yūta.
Kenta nodded. Then he followed Chiho.
Kaito arrived first, with Jin a few steps behind — both with the look of people who have finished a fight without a declared winner and are processing that in different ways. Jin processed it by looking straight ahead with the expression of someone recalibrating. Kaito processed it in silence.
When Kaito saw the state of Yūta — the bruise on his jaw, the way he was holding his right side, the empty vial — something in his expression changed.
"I'm sorry," he said. "If I hadn't got caught up with Jin I could have arrived sooner."
Yūta shook his head.
"Don't worry," he said. "I learned a lot regardless. These days — everything you taught me." He extended his hand. "Thank you, Kaito."
Kaito looked at the hand. Then he shook it.
"Keep working on the flow," he said. "When you're under pressure it still cuts out."
"I know," said Yūta. "I'll work on it."
The teachers arrived at the main clearing where the forest opened towards the compound's garden, and the participants came in from different paths with the shared look of people who have used more energy than they had planned.
Kato looked at them all. Then he took out the paper he kept in his sleeve.
"The final results," he said. "Mura Kaito and Amane Yūta: zero points. Tsukino Hina and Harada Jin: zero points. Shirogane Mei and Sendai Hana: seven points. Ishida Taro and Takashima Yui: forty-four points. And the winners — Arimoto Kenta and Wada Chiho: seventy-six points."
Silence.
Then Kenta applauded his own results, which was exactly what Kenta would do.
Kana looked at them all with that expression of hers that did not change much but that Tatsu knew how to read.
"It was a good tournament," she said. "Everyone showed things they did not know they had." She paused. "You may go."
The students began to disperse — some talking, some in silence, some looking at their empty vials with the specific resignation of those who had finished on zero.
Yuna waited until the students had moved far enough away. Then she looked at Kato and raised her hand with fingers extended — the universal gesture of someone expecting to be paid something.
Kato looked at her.
"Seriously?"
Yuna did not lower her hand.
Kato took out the notes with the expression of someone paying something that hurts more as a matter of principle than as a matter of amount. He placed them in Yuna's hand with the resignation of the inevitable.
Yuna counted them. She smiled.
"Keep teaching them to fight," she said. "They need it."
"Next time will be different," said Kato.
"I doubt that," said Yuna, and left.
Kato found Kagami on the side path, leaning against a tree with a cigarette between his fingers and that calm of his that was always there.
"I need to ask you something," said Kato.
Kagami exhaled.
"What?"
"To accompany Amane on a mission."
Kagami looked at him.
"No," he said. "I've already helped him enough. Forget it."
Kato clasped his hands together.
"Please," he said, with the specific energy of someone who knows this is ridiculous but does it anyway because it is necessary. "Amane is improving a great deal. And I've been called to look into some remnants — they asked for me specifically. I can't go with him. I swear it's the last time."
Kagami looked at him for a moment.
"What kind of mission?"
"A straightforward one," said Kato. "Kana told me there's a boy who could be a hunter. They've been observing him and it seems he might be starting to see them, and if he runs into one on his own it would be worse — though he hasn't given a clear indication yet. Someone needs to go and keep watch over him."
Kagami looked at him.
"You're asking me to keep watch over a child. With another child."
"With Amane," confirmed Kato.
"And that's why you want me to go?"
"It's a quiet mission," said Kato. "No thinking remnants, no temples that swallow you. Just observation. And it might be good for Amane not to be constantly fighting things that almost kill him."
Kagami considered that.
"A box of cigarettes," he said.
"As many as you like."
"One. And good ones."
"Done."
"Does Amane know yet?"
"No," said Kato. "I'll tell him now. Tomorrow at ten, here. I'll send you the address by phone."
Kagami nodded. He stubbed out the cigarette and went off along the path without adding anything more.
Kato watched him go.
Now that they're leaving, he thought, I can go and see the old man.
He put his hands in his pockets and left the forest along the main path, with his usual smile and something that was not exactly worry, but came close, in his eyes.