CHAPTER 71 — The Twelve Names
The arena was an ocean of silence.
Not the silence of emptiness. Not that of cemeteries or empty halls. A tense, held-back silence, as if the thousands of spectators were holding their breath so as not to miss a single second. The packed bleachers were nonetheless still, the hanging flags motionless, the gazes fixed on the center of the stone.
Zayn felt sweat trickling down the back of his neck.
He stood straight, aligned with the others. His entirely black uniform was already soaked at the shoulders. He wasn't afraid — not yet. But he felt the weight of eyes on him. Thousands of pairs of eyes. Officials, generals, heads of state, representatives of nations who knew of the existence of Celestials. They were there to see blood. To see miracles. To see children tear each other apart.
Zayn looked at his hands. They weren't trembling.
Beside him, Yojuro stood still. Not a movement. Not a blink. He stared into the void, hands in his pockets, as if waiting for a bus.
"You're not nervous?" Zayn murmured.
"I am."
"You don't show it."
"I rarely do."
Zayn was about to reply when the Paladin in the grey coat stepped forward to the center of the arena.
He was tall, lean, with a face that had never smiled. He held an unrolled parchment in his hands, like a judge about to read a sentence. His voice rang out, clear and cold, carried by invisible microphones.
"The draw has been made."
He raised the parchment.
"The first-round matches are as follows."
The giant screens suspended above the arena lit up. The names appeared in white letters, sharp, merciless.
---
Match 1: Rodrigue vs Akamaru
Rodrigue took a deep breath. He felt the air burn his lungs. He rolled his ball between his hands, once, twice. His fingers trembled slightly — not from fear, from excitement.
He turned to Akamaru, who stood a few meters away, arms hanging.
"You and me, huh?"
Akamaru looked up. His eyes were tired, dark-circled, but not resigned.
"We've already fought."
"Not like this."
Rodrigue spun his ball on his index finger.
"I'm going to give you a run for your money."
Akamaru didn't reply. But a glimmer crossed his gaze.
---
Match 2: Blanche vs Enara
Blanche didn't move. Her face remained marble. She looked at the screen, then her eyes slid toward Enara, who stood a little further away, her violet scarf fluttering slightly in the wind.
Enara smiled. Not a cruel smile. A dreamy smile.
"Blanche. I respect you."
"I don't need your respect."
"I know. But I'm giving it anyway."
Blanche didn't reply. She looked elsewhere.
Enara followed her gaze. It was fixed on Zayn.
"You love him, don't you?"
Blanche didn't answer.
"So do I." Enara smiled wider. "So we're fighting for him, then?"
Blanche turned her head. Her eyes were icy.
"I fight for myself."
---
Match 3: Murata vs Kai
Murata, the black blindfold tightly wrapped around his eyes, didn't react to his name. He placed his hand on the hilt of his katana, as if to make sure it was still there. A mechanical gesture, habitual.
Kai, arms crossed, the silver chain at his belt, nodded.
"A blind man."
"I see more than you."
Kai smiled. Not a mocking smile — a challenging one.
"We'll see."
Murata didn't reply. He turned his head toward Kai — not toward his eyes, but toward his voice.
"I hear your heart. It's beating faster than usual."
Kai stopped smiling.
---
Match 4: Yojuro vs Kira
The two silent ones. The two dangerous ones.
Yojuro kept his eyes half-closed, hands in his pockets. He didn't look at Kira. He looked at the void.
Kira, eyes closed, stood still. Not a muscle moved on his face.
The crowd murmured. Those two didn't speak. Didn't move. They looked like two statues about to kill each other.
Zayn leaned toward Yojuro.
"This is going to be a fight of the deaf, huh?"
"I hear him."
"What?"
"Kira. He's breathing like he's already won."
Zayn looked at Kira. The boy with closed eyes showed nothing.
"He's wrong," said Yojuro.
---
Match 5: Zayn vs Loyd
The silence grew heavier. A shiver ran through the bleachers.
Zayn felt his heart quicken. He had hoped to avoid this match. He had hoped to face Loyd later, further along, when he was ready. But fate had decided otherwise.
Loyd smiled. Not a cruel smile. An empty smile, as if he had already won.
"Finally."
Zayn turned to him.
"You look happy."
"I am."
"Why?"
Loyd looked at him. His yellow eyes gleamed in the light.
"Because I'm going to destroy you in front of everyone."
Zayn didn't reply. He clenched his fist.
"Are you scared?" asked Loyd.
"I feel like throwing up."
"It's the same thing."
Zayn smiled. Not a joyful smile — a dangerous one.
"Then get ready to clean up."
---
Match 6: Cynthia vs Aku
The last match. The heaviest.
Cynthia looked at the screen. Her name was written in white, right next to Aku's. She showed nothing. No surprise. No fear. Just a silent determination.
Aku lowered his head. His black hair fell over his eyes. He didn't want this fight. Not against her.
Cynthia walked toward him. She stopped a few meters away.
"Aku."
He didn't look up.
"Cynthia…"
"Look at me."
He raised his eyes. They were tired, red.
"I don't want to hurt you."
"I won't let you hold back."
"You don't understand."
"Then explain."
Aku breathed in. He breathed out.
"What I am… what I can become… it doesn't stop with one punch."
Cynthia looked at him for a long time.
"I won't forgive you if you hold back."
He looked at her, surprised.
"What?"
"If you hold back, you're treating me like a victim. And I'm not a victim."
She turned her back on him.
"So hit me. And I'll hit you."
Aku stood alone, hands trembling.
The twelve names faded from the screens.
The Paladin in the grey coat lowered the parchment.
"The matches will begin in one hour. Prepare yourselves."
He stepped back.
The crowd erupted in murmurs. Conversations flared, bets were placed, glances were exchanged.
Zayn turned to Yojuro.
"I'm up against Loyd."
"I know."
"Do you think I can win?"
Yojuro looked at him. He didn't smile. He didn't nod.
"You don't have a choice."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
Zayn closed his eyes.
He heard the crowd. He heard the shouts. He heard his own heartbeat.
He opened his eyes.
"Then I'm going to win."
In a corner of the arena, Cynthia walked away. She didn't look behind her. She knew Aku was watching her.
And somewhere in the bleachers, a child's voice shouted:
"YOJ-U-RO! YOJ-U-RO!"
Haruka.
Yojuro didn't turn his head. But his fingers moved — an almost invisible gesture, a sign.
He had seen her.
The tournament was beginning.
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