Part 1 – The Collapse
The arena remained frozen in confusion.
Murmurs spread through the crowd after the final call, but they lacked energy, lacking certainty. People spoke, but no one sounded sure of what they had just witnessed.
"…What was that?"
"…He wasn't even fighting at the start…"
"…Did Arashi lose… or…?"
The questions overlapped, but no answer came.
Then the instructors moved.
"Medical team—now."
The tone shifted instantly.
The hesitation disappeared, replaced by urgency.
This wasn't a victory.
This wasn't celebration.
It was aftermath.
Several medics rushed into the arena, splitting into groups as they moved toward the fighters. Their movements were quick, practiced, efficient, as if they had already expected something like this.
Arashi was reached first. He was still standing, but only barely, his posture held together by will more than strength. A medic moved under his arm, supporting him as his balance faltered.
"Careful."
"…I'm fine," Arashi muttered.
But his breathing was heavy, uneven beneath the surface, and the slight delay in his steps betrayed him.
Even then, his eyes shifted once.
Toward Haruto.
Not in anger.
Not in pride.
But in quiet uncertainty.
Nearby, other students from earlier rounds were being guided out as well. Some walked on their own, some leaned on support, and some were barely conscious as they were carried. The semifinals had pushed everyone further than expected.
Kaito stepped forward the moment he noticed the shift.
"Haruto—"
His voice came out sharper than intended as he moved quickly across the arena.
Haruto was still standing.
But something about him felt wrong.
Too still.
Too quiet.
His fingers twitched slightly.
A small movement.
Barely noticeable.
Then his vision blurred.
The lights above became too bright, the noise around him dulling as if it was being pulled away. His body swayed once, trying to hold itself together.
It didn't.
His knees gave out.
And he collapsed.
A medic reacted instantly, catching him before he hit the ground.
"Got him!"
"Severe exhaustion—get him out of here!"
They lowered him carefully onto a stretcher, movements controlled but urgent.
His breathing was uneven.
Too shallow.
"…Pulse unstable."
"…Breathing irregular."
"…Internal strain," another medic said quickly. "Possible overuse of Seiryu flow—full-body distribution."
"Move!"
They didn't wait.
They lifted him and rushed him out of the arena without hesitation.