The tournament began.
For exactly one second.
The mana arrow was still forming between Chiho's fingers when Yūta took his first step to the side. Hana closed her eyes as if she wanted to hear the movement before seeing it. Yui raised a small barrier, incomplete on purpose.
Then Tatsu spoke.
"Excuse me."
Everyone froze.
It was not an order.
That made it worse.
It was a polite interruption.
Kana, who had just lowered her cane, slowly turned toward him.
"What is it?"
Tatsu inclined his head slightly. He held the open folder in his hands, wearing the exact expression of someone willing to die for administrative order.
"With all due respect, Mizushima-sama, the full tournament bracket has not yet been announced."
The silence did not last long.
Only long enough for everyone to understand.
Kato looked at Kana.
He was not smiling.
But he was far too close to it.
"You got excited."
A few students widened their eyes.
Not because of the sentence.
Because Kato had dared to say it out loud.
Kana glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
For one second, she looked like she was going to correct him.
Then she smiled.
Not much.
Barely.
But it was enough for the whole courtyard to feel as though it had seen something it should not have.
"Even adults get excited from time to time," she said.
Yūta blinked.
Kenta opened his mouth.
Yui stepped on his foot before he could use it.
"Prevention," she murmured.
Baku slowly raised one hand.
"I would like the historical record to show that Mizushima-sama has just admitted humanity in front of witnesses."
Kana looked at him.
"Shishido."
"I withdraw the historical record. It remains an emotional rumor."
From the side, Kanzaki said:
"That does not exist."
"That's why it's a rumor."
Tatsu lowered his head a little more.
"It was my mistake not to intervene before the start order."
Kana looked back at him.
This time, the small smile did not disappear completely.
"No, Tatsu. It was mine."
The courtyard grew even quieter.
Kana rested her cane against the ground.
"I wanted to see the matches."
Tatsu lifted his eyes only slightly.
He did not seem surprised.
But he looked a little less rigid.
"I understand."
"That does not mean I intend to skip procedure twice," Kana added.
"Of course."
Kato let out air through his nose.
"What a shame. For a second, I thought the tournament was also going to measure administrative improvisation."
Kana turned her gaze back to him.
"If you want to keep your position, don't continue."
"I like my position."
"Then honor it."
Baku leaned toward Yūta from the side, though he spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear.
"This is important, kids. Even legendary leaders can get excited about teenagers hitting each other under medical supervision."
Kana did not turn.
"Baku."
"Sorry. About tactical youth development in competitive format."
Kanzaki looked at him.
"That correction does not help either."
"But it sounds less illegal."
Kana lifted her cane slightly.
"Tatsu. The bracket."
Tatsu straightened the folder.
"Yes."
The courtyard settled again.
The students behind the spectator barrier stopped murmuring. Sota moved a little closer to the boundary without crossing it. His eyes moved from the field to Tatsu's folder, as if every name that had not yet been spoken could hurt him in a different way.
Kana spoke first.
"As already explained, there will be five pairs. Each pair will fight two matches during the scoring phase. The two pairs with the highest scores will advance to the final."
Kenta raised his hand.
Kana did not even need to look at him to know.
"Arimoto."
"What happens if there's a tie?"
Tatsu answered:
"Penalties, technique control, coordination ability, and instructor judgment will be taken into account."
Kenta lowered his hand.
"So, the adults decide."
Baku placed one hand over his own chest.
"How horrible. Youth discovering power structures."
Yuna looked at him.
"You're not helping."
"I help in my own way."
"That's the worrying part."
Tatsu read from the folder.
"Match one: Yūta Amane and Chiho Wada versus Hana Sendai and Yui Takashima."
The four of them already knew.
Even so, hearing it again changed it.
Yūta felt Chiho's name settle beside his own like a responsibility he did not yet know how to carry. Chiho did not look at him, but she tightened the string of mana between her fingers.
Hana breathed slowly.
Yui lowered her shoulders, not to relax, but so she would not begin the match by enclosing the world out of fear.
Tatsu continued:
"Match two: Taro Ishida and Kenta Arimoto versus Mei Shirogane and Jin Harada."
Kenta turned toward Mei.
Mei turned toward Kenta.
Harada did not turn, probably because he had already been watching them.
Ishida closed his book with one finger inside, marking the page.
"Well," Kenta said. "That's going to be a disaster."
Mei smiled.
"For once, we agree."
Kenta frowned.
"I don't like agreeing with you."
"Neither do I. But disaster has to be recognized when it presents itself so clearly."
Harada spoke without raising his voice:
"The problem will not be the disaster."
Mei looked at him.
"Then what?"
"Who believes they can control it."
Ishida lifted his eyes slightly.
Kenta lowered his a little.
From the side, Baku clasped his hands together with enthusiasm.
"Supervised fire and existential chains versus tactical divorce and blades with family issues. This tournament is already giving me life."
Kasumi opened her fan just enough to cover her mouth.
"What a vulgarly precise description."
Mei pointed at her.
"Don't describe my team."
"I haven't yet."
"It felt like you did."
Tatsu kept reading.
"Match three: Hina Tsukino and Kaito Mura versus Yūta Amane and Chiho Wada."
Yūta looked at Hina.
Hina looked back.
Kaito looked at Chiho.
Chiho looked at the field, as if she were already calculating how many times Yūta could ruin her line of fire against two people who knew how to endure.
"How nice," Yūta said. "If I survive the first match, I get Tsukino threatening me with an axe."
Hina placed one hand on the handle.
"I'm not threatening you with the axe."
"That's weird, because I felt relieved."
"I'm threatening you with the fact that I'll know when you're pretending you don't want to help too much."
Yūta opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Kaito looked at Chiho.
"We won't give you much space."
Chiho held his gaze.
"Then I'll have to find it anyway."
Kaito nodded.
"That sounds correct."
"That wasn't courtesy."
"I know."
Kato watched that matchup carefully.
"Good."
Yuna looked at him.
"Because Amane will have to apply what he learns in the first match against two physical fronts?"
"Because if Chiho doesn't learn quickly, Mura and Tsukino won't give her a single line."
"That too."
Kato drank coffee.
"I said it implicitly."
"No."
"I could have."
Tatsu read the next one.
"Match four: Hana Sendai and Yui Takashima versus Taro Ishida and Kenta Arimoto."
Yui went still.
Hana blinked.
Kenta smiled far too quickly.
Ishida saw it.
"Don't make that face."
"What face?"
"The face of someone who just imagined fire against barriers."
Kenta lowered the smile.
"I haven't done anything."
"Yet."
Hana looked at Yui.
"There's going to be too much movement."
Yui nodded.
"And fire."
"And chains."
"And fire."
"You said fire twice."
"Because I'm worried twice as much."
Kenta raised his hands.
"I'm hearing all of this."
Yui looked at him.
"That's part of the problem."
Baku leaned toward Kanzaki.
"Barrier girl has just discovered preventive fear. Beautiful."
Kanzaki did not take his eyes off the students.
"It's useful if it doesn't paralyze her."
"Always with the detail that ruins the poetry."
"Poetry doesn't stop fires."
"But it makes them more memorable."
Tatsu moved to the last line.
"Match five: Mei Shirogane and Jin Harada versus Hina Tsukino and Kaito Mura."
The courtyard reacted in a different way.
Not louder.
Finer.
As if certain gazes had cut across each other.
Mei looked at Hina.
Hina did not look away.
Harada looked at Kaito.
Kaito straightened slightly.
Yūta felt that this match had not even begun and already held too much inside it.
Mei spoke first.
"Don't make that face."
Hina tilted her head.
"What face?"
"The face that says this matters."
Hina did not smile.
"It does matter."
Mei tightened her grip on her fans.
"It's a tournament."
"Yes."
"It isn't Hisayama."
The word fell lower than the others.
Yūta looked at Sota.
Sota had not lived through Hisayama, but he understood from the way Mei said it that places could turn into wounds.
Hina answered calmly:
"I know."
"Then don't look at me like you're thinking about all of that."
"I'm thinking about you."
Mei grimaced.
"That's worse."
Harada, with no visible emotion, said:
"Pre-match communication appears deficient."
Mei turned toward him.
"You shut up."
"Confirmed."
Kaito looked at Hina.
"I won't get between you two unless I have to."
Hina looked at him.
"Thanks."
"But if I have to, I will."
"Then warn me before you turn into a wall."
Kaito nodded.
"I will."
Baku sighed with satisfaction.
"This has emotional tension, bad communication, and sharp objects. I missed being young."
Kasumi looked at him.
"You were never young. You were born as a warning."
"That explains my childhood."
Kanzaki intervened:
"It explains nothing."
"Thank you for preserving my mystery, Masato."
Tatsu closed the folder.
"That will be the scoring phase bracket. The order is fixed. There will be no modifications except by injury, serious penalty, or direct decision from Mizushima-sama."
Kana looked at everyone.
"The final will be announced once the scoring phase ends."
Yūta raised his hand.
Kana looked at him.
"Amane."
"So each pair fights twice, and then the two best go to the final."
"Correct."
"And if the world decides to behave like usual, something is going to go wrong before that."
The courtyard went silent for half a second.
Not because it was a bad joke.
Because it was far too possible.
Kato looked at Yūta.
Yūta regretted it a little.
Strangely, Baku did not laugh.
It was Kanzaki who spoke.
"That is why supervision exists."
"That was almost reassuring," Yūta said.
"It was not reassuring."
"There it is."
Kana struck the ground once with her cane.
"Now, then."
Tatsu withdrew to the side.
Yūta returned to the edge of the field beside Chiho.
Hana and Yui did the same on the other side.
The rest remained behind the spectator barrier, though no one seemed to feel truly outside. Sota stood in the front row. Ishida, Kenta, Mei, Harada, Hina, and Kaito were also watching with a different kind of attention. They were not watching only one match.
They were watching the first example of what all of them would have to do afterward.
Kato stepped a little closer to the edge of the field.
"Remember the rules. Five minutes. No lethal techniques. No strikes to the head without visible reinforcement. If an instructor intervenes, a penalty will be evaluated. If both members of a pair are unable to move or act for three seconds, they lose."
Baku raised a hand.
"And if someone does something especially stupid, I reserve the right to name it."
Kana did not look at him.
"You don't have that right."
"Then I reserve the desire."
"That does not matter either."
"My desires are rarely institutionally valued."
Chiho took a deep breath.
The string of mana between her fingers tightened and took shape.
It was not a full bow at first.
It was a line.
An intention.
Then the curve appeared.
Then the arrow.
Yūta looked at it for only an instant.
"I won't look anymore," he said.
Chiho did not turn toward him.
"Good."
"Because if I look, I'll probably get excited and ruin something."
"That too."
"I'm glad we're building trust."
"I'm building survival margin."
"Sounds similar."
"It isn't."
On the other side, Yui raised both hands.
A transparent barrier appeared in front of her.
But it was not a wall.
It was only a low, slanted panel, more like an incomplete decision than a defense.
Hana closed her eyes.
She did not keep them closed for long.
Only long enough to organize the noise.
When she opened them, she said:
"Not everything."
Yui nodded.
"Not everything."
Yūta heard that.
He did not fully understand it.
But he did not like it.
Kana raised her cane for the second time.
This time, no one interrupted her.
"Begin."
Chiho's arrow finished forming.
Yūta did not run.
That was the first problem.
His body wanted to.
The first impulse was to go forward, take space, force Yui to raise barriers, interfere with Hana before she could read them.
Instead, he took one step to the side.
As he had promised.
As he had understood.
Or as he wanted to prove he had understood.
Chiho felt him move and did not shoot.
The line was there.
For less than a second.
Then Yūta stopped too close to her.
Not in front.
But close enough to muddy the angle.
The arrow stayed on her bow.
Yui raised the panel.
Hana said:
"Left."
The barrier moved.
Not much.
Just enough to cover the place where Chiho would have fired if she had decided half a second earlier.
Kato closed his eyes.
"There."
Yuna looked at the field.
"Chiho had a shot."
"And she didn't take it."
"Because Amane was close."
"Because she waited for the world to become comfortable," Kato said.
Baku tilted his head.
"The kid just invented a new technique: getting in the way less, but confusingly."
Kato did not look at him.
"He's trying."
"I said it with terrible affection."
On the field, Yūta noticed too late that Chiho had not released the arrow.
"Did I block it?"
"No."
"That sounded like yes."
"You muddied it."
"That sounds worse."
"Because it's more precise."
Yūta breathed.
"Tell me where you want me."
Chiho pulled the string slightly.
"That's part of the problem. I can't decide if you decide too late where you're going to exist."
"Very fair. Very hurtful."
"Move."
Yūta moved.
This time to the right, though not in a straight line.
Yui reacted by raising another small panel, this time in front of Chiho. The barrier did not cover the whole field. It left spaces. It left paths. It left invitations.
Yūta saw one of those openings and almost entered.
Almost.
Hana opened her mouth.
"Right. No, low. He's going to—"
Yui hesitated.
That half second was enough.
Yūta shifted his weight, entered through the gap, and released a simple mana strike with no intention of landing it fully. He only wanted to force Yui to raise a defense.
Yui did.
A transparent plate appeared between them.
The strike hit it and scattered.
Chiho fired.
The arrow passed along the right edge of the barrier, seeking Hana's shoulder.
Hana leaned late.
But she leaned.
The arrow grazed her sleeve and dissolved against the field boundary.
"Close," Yūta said.
Chiho did not lower the bow.
"Close doesn't score."
"But close scares."
"That doesn't score either."
Outside, Sota pressed his hands against the spectator barrier.
He had seen the shot.
He had also seen what happened before the shot.
Yūta had managed to move without standing in front.
But he was still deciding as if moving less were the same as moving well.
Kagami approached Kato's side.
"He's thinking too late."
"He's thinking," Kato said. "That's already progress."
"Thinking late kills."
"That's why we're here."
Kagami did not answer.
There was no need.
At the other end, Hana's breathing had grown faster.
Yui looked at her.
"You talked too much."
Hana nodded.
"Yes."
"I waited too long."
"Yes."
They both told the truth without attacking each other.
That was small.
And dangerous.
Hana looked at Yūta and Chiho.
She saw Yūta's movement as a stain that was difficult to predict. Not because it was perfect. Because not even he seemed to know exactly what he was going to do until half a second before doing it.
She saw Chiho as a drawn line that wanted to be exact.
Too exact.
And between the two of them, there was a space that was not yet a team.
It was permission.
Poorly asked.
Poorly given.
But still permission.
"Short words," Yui said.
Hana nodded again.
"Yes."
Yūta advanced again.
This time, he spoke first.
"I'm opening left."
Chiho blinked.
She had not expected him to warn her.
That instant cost them too.
Yui raised a low diagonal barrier.
Hana said:
"Close."
Yui closed.
The barrier did not go toward Yūta.
It went toward the space between Yūta and Chiho.
Yūta stopped.
"That was unpleasant."
Chiho shifted two steps to search for a line.
Hana said:
"High."
Yui raised a panel above, not in front of the arrow.
Chiho did not shoot.
The arrow would have passed.
But the panel was where the arrow would need to bend if Hana moved.
It did not block the attack.
It blocked the continuation.
Chiho understood that one second too late.
"She isn't defending," she murmured.
Yūta stepped back just enough not to be separated.
"What is she doing, then?"
Chiho tightened another arrow.
"Arranging."
From the side, Kanzaki nodded faintly.
Baku saw it.
"Ah, you liked that."
"Correct use of partial defense."
"You said that with so little emotion you almost made it illegal."
"Emotion does not improve defense."
"But it improves commentary."
"It was not commentary."
"Your life must be a room without windows."
"Windows are entry points."
Baku placed a hand over his chest.
"And so the metaphor died."
On the field, Yūta tried a feint.
He moved his right shoulder, loaded mana into his left leg, and moved toward the center. It was not an exact copy of anyone. It was an awkward mixture of things he had seen: Kagami's weight shift, Ishida's patience, Kato's shamelessness when he looked like he was walking straight toward a bad idea.
It worked halfway.
Yui reacted to the shoulder.
Hana reacted to the foot.
"Center," Hana said.
Yui did not ask.
She raised a small barrier on the ground.
Yūta saw it too late, jumped over it, and stayed in the air half a second longer than he wanted.
Chiho had a line.
Not perfect.
But a line.
She tightened the string.
And did not shoot.
Because Yūta was falling.
Because if she missed the angle, she could hit him.
Because she had seen too many times how a clean shot inside the shooter's head became the perfect excuse to wait.
Yūta landed, rolled badly, stood, and looked back.
"Did I block it again?"
Chiho clenched her jaw.
"No."
"Chiho."
"You didn't block it. You made it dangerous."
"Ah. Much worse."
"Yes."
"Good. I hate growing."
Chiho lowered the bow for an instant.
"I don't need you to be invisible."
Yūta looked at her.
"That's good, because I can't."
"I need to know when you're going to move."
"That's worse, because sometimes I don't know either."
Chiho studied him.
"Then say what you want, not what you're going to do."
It took Yūta a second to understand.
It was not the same.
If he said, "I'm going left," and changed course, he would ruin her.
If he said, "I want to open a line for you," she could read something else.
She could help.
She could decide.
Yūta nodded.
"I can do that."
"Try."
On the other side, Hana heard them without hearing the words.
She felt the change in the air.
"They're going to change."
Yui did not look away.
"How?"
Hana hesitated.
There were too many answers.
Yūta could advance.
Chiho could shoot.
Yui could close.
She could make a mistake.
Hana felt all those possibilities like voices speaking at the same time.
Then she remembered the table.
Expectations falling.
She remembered Yui saying, "Don't try to say all of them."
She breathed.
"Open right."
Yui obeyed.
She left an opening.
Yūta saw it.
So did Chiho.
"Possible line," Chiho said.
"I want to open it," Yūta said.
He did not say "I'm going."
He did not promise a direction.
Only intention.
Chiho drew the string.
Yūta advanced toward the gap Yui had left, but he did not pass through it. Halfway there, he released a small pulse of mana against the ground, raising just enough dust to muddy Hana's view.
It was not much.
It was not elegant.
But it was useful.
Hana blinked.
Yui raised a barrier by reflex.
Too complete.
For one second, she also closed her own side.
"Too much," Hana said.
Yui understood and opened a door in the barrier before Hana finished breathing.
Chiho fired.
Not at the center.
Not at the shoulder.
At the edge of the opening.
The arrow struck the corner of the barrier and made it vibrate. Fine lines cracked across the transparent plate before it recomposed itself.
Yui stepped back half a step.
Not from damage.
From surprise.
Chiho opened her eyes slightly.
She had fired before she was sure.
It had not been perfect.
It had worked.
Outside, Kasumi smiled.
"There."
Mei heard her and tightened her grip on her fans.
"Are you going to adopt Chiho as a project now too?"
Kasumi did not look at her.
"No. She listened faster."
Mei turned toward her.
"Faster than who?"
Kasumi closed her fan.
"I didn't name anyone."
"You didn't need to."
Hina moved a little closer to Mei.
"Don't give her what she wants."
"And what does she want?"
"For you to cut before thinking."
Mei opened her mouth.
Closed it.
From the other side, Harada said:
"That was a useful intervention."
Mei pointed at him without looking.
"You too."
"Confirmed."
Baku watched Chiho with interest.
"The archer just discovered that an ugly shot that exists is more useful than a beautiful imaginary one."
Kato nodded.
"Yes."
Baku went still.
"It scares me when we agree."
"Me too."
On the field, Yūta smiled.
"That was amazing."
Chiho did not look at him.
"Don't celebrate in the middle of the match."
"I'm celebrating internally."
"It shows on your face."
"My face doesn't respect privacy."
Hana watched that smile.
Not as emotion.
As data.
Yūta smiled when he believed something had started working.
Chiho shot when Yūta did not try to explain himself too much.
The line was not the problem.
Trusting the line was the problem.
Hana looked at Yui.
"Let them."
Yui frowned slightly.
"What?"
"Let them see it."
Yui did not ask more.
That was progress too.
Yūta moved again.
"I want to open center."
Chiho tightened the string.
"I'll follow you."
Yūta felt that sentence like a small blow to the chest.
Not because it was emotional.
Because it was practical.
And because, for the first time, someone was not telling him to move away or not get in the way.
She was telling him he could move and that she would read him.
That made him want to do it well.
And that was another trap.
Yūta advanced toward the center.
Yui stepped back, leaving an opening that was too clear between two small panels.
Chiho saw it.
It was a line.
Not perfect.
But clean.
Yūta saw it too.
Too clean.
For one second, he hesitated.
Hana said a single word:
"Late."
Yui lowered her left hand.
The panel on the right disappeared.
Yūta understood that the opening was changing.
"Chiho, don't—"
Chiho did not fire.
This time, not out of fear.
By decision.
The arrow stayed on the string.
Yūta stopped before crossing.
A barrier appeared where his knee would have been.
The impact against the air made the ground vibrate.
If he had kept going, he would have fallen.
Chiho let out a breath.
"I saw your face."
Yūta looked at her.
"My 'this is too easy' face?"
"Your 'I'm about to learn something through pain' face."
"That's very specific."
"You use it a lot."
From behind the spectator barrier, Sota smiled without realizing it.
Yūta was not perfect.
Not even close.
But he was not trying to do everything alone.
Neither was Chiho.
That hurt a little.
Because he was outside.
But it also taught him something he would not have understood from inside.
Sometimes watching did not mean being left behind.
Sometimes watching meant seeing the full shape of a mistake.
Baku appeared beside him without making a sound.
Sota flinched.
"Sorry," Baku said. "This time, my habit appeared before my common sense."
Sota looked at him cautiously.
"It's okay."
Baku watched the field.
"It hurts to watch from outside, doesn't it?"
Sota took a moment to answer.
"Yes."
"Good."
Sota looked at him.
Baku was not smiling.
Or not entirely.
The mask made it hard to tell.
"Watch anyway," he said. "Pain is useful if you don't let it write for you."
Sota did not know what to answer.
Baku did not seem to need him to.
One second later, the man raised his voice.
"Amane! If you're going to discover the value of cooperation, do it with less abandoned-dog face. You're scaring the sport!"
Kana closed her eyes.
"Shishido."
"I already left."
He had not.
But at least he took half a step back.
On the field, Yūta breathed.
"I want to open right."
Chiho nodded.
"If it looks too clean, I won't shoot."
"Correct."
"If it looks messy but possible, I shoot."
"I'm worried that includes me as an obstacle."
"It includes you as a variable."
"I like that less, but it sounds professional."
Hana heard the change.
So did Yui.
The fight had stopped being two people trying not to bother each other against two people trying not to close everything.
Now it was two ideas learning how to move.
That made it harder.
And more honest.
Yūta moved to the right.
Not at full speed.
Not in a straight line.
His invisible mana spread faintly around his feet, enough to push the dust in a false direction. Yui followed the dust's movement, not Yūta's.
Hana saw it.
"Not dust. Foot."
Yui corrected.
She raised a low barrier.
Yūta jumped, but this time he was not trying to pass.
He was trying to land earlier.
Chiho fired.
The arrow came out awkward.
Too soon.
Too low.
Not elegant at all.
But it existed.
It passed beneath Yūta's arm as he fell and struck the lower edge of Yui's barrier.
The plate cracked.
It did not break completely.
But it lost its shape.
Yūta touched the ground, pushed with one hand, and shifted his body toward the center.
For the first time, Yui's defense was half a second late.
Hana opened her eyes a little wider.
Not out of fear.
Out of recognition.
"Another," Chiho said.
Yūta smiled.
"I want to open center."
Chiho was already drawing the string.
Yui raised two panels.
Hana did not speak.
That was what made Yūta worry.
At first, Hana had said too much.
Then she had learned to say little.
Now she was saying nothing.
Outside, Kanzaki straightened his posture slightly.
Kato saw it.
"What?"
Kanzaki did not look away.
"Sendai stopped reacting."
Baku tilted his head.
"Is that bad?"
"No. It's worse for them."
Yuna looked at the field.
"She's waiting for them to think they understand."
Kasumi smiled faintly.
"How quietly cruel."
Baku pointed at Hana.
"I like her more and more. She scares like someone apologizing."
Hana did not hear that.
Or perhaps she did.
It did not matter.
She had her eyes on Yūta.
Not on his body.
On the exact moment when his body believed it had done something right.
Yūta advanced.
Chiho followed him with the string.
Yui left a diagonal line open toward Hana.
Not too large.
Not perfect.
Imperfect enough for Chiho to trust it.
Yūta saw it too.
This time, it did not look too clean.
It looked earned.
That was the dangerous part.
"I want to open it," Yūta said.
"I have it," Chiho answered.
He moved to the side.
Not in front.
To the side.
For the first time, he felt that his position was not in the way.
He felt he was where he needed to be.
Chiho released the arrow.
The mana arrow crossed the space between the panels, low and fast, aiming not at Hana's body but at the ground to her right, just where it could force her to move toward the boundary.
Yūta smiled.
Because this time, he was not in front of Chiho.
He had not blocked her line.
He had not decided alone.
Then Hana opened her eyes.
"Now."
Yui's barrier did not appear in front of the arrow.
It appeared behind Yūta.
Another was born beside Chiho's left foot.
A third, slanted, cut the space between them.
The arrow kept going.
But they did not.
Only then did Yūta understand that they had not opened the line.
They had been allowed to see it.
Kanzaki raised a hand.
"One."