The sand radiated warmth through the soles of every sandal. Around the sparring ground, students packed close, whispering in low tones that rippled like wind through dry reeds.
The end of the Academy year always carried tension, but today felt heavier. These were the final exam spars, and every victory, every stumble, would brand itself into memory.
At the center, Daiana stepped forward, her sandals crunching in the grit. She looked small at first glance, slight and pale; her long hair drawn back into a simple knot, but the sharpness in her gaze silenced any who thought she might falter.
Shadows clung to her even in daylight, a quiet gravity that made people shift uneasily when her eyes passed over them.
Across from her, Yome waited.
Lean, wiry, her dark hair brushed lightly at her jawline, catching the sunlight. Her orange-brown eyes were alive with restless focus, darting over to study every inch of Daiana's stance.
Unlike Daiana's quiet intensity, Yome carried the alertness of an animal in the wild, tense and wary.
The crowd's whispers dwindled when the instructor's hand cut the air. Silence pressed in, heavy and taut.
"Begin."
Daiana and Yome circled one another in the dust, sandals whispering faintly against sand baked warm by the lingering sun.
Neither girl rushed forward.
Their movements were measured, small, and probing.
Yome snapped first. Her body blurred forward in a sudden lunge, her leg whipping upward in a fast, vicious arc aimed for Daiana's ribs. The crowd drew in breath as the strike sliced through air, but Daiana slid sideways, her sandals skidding faintly across grit.
The kick cut past harmlessly, grazing the cloth of her tunic, and Daiana twisted with the motion, pivoting around Yome's extended leg.
Daiana countered instantly. Her leg lashed out, a sharp strike aimed for Yome's ribs, who dropped low, so close her dark hair brushed Daiana's leg as she slipped beneath.
She snapped upward with a sudden palm-strike toward Daiana's chin, her knuckles white with the force behind it.
Daiana bent back at the waist, the blow hissing through the empty space where her jaw had been. She could smell Yome's skin, the faint salt of sweat carried on air. Even as she swayed backward, she was already shifting low, one hand pressing into the sand for balance, her leg sweeping out in a low, dirty arc aimed for Yome's ankles.
Sand sprayed as her foot cut across. Yome barely avoided it, her sandal scuffing the edge of the sweep as she hopped back, away from strike.
She landed in a crouch, eyes narrow and alive with focus, then lunged forward again before her heels had settled.
Her strike was fast, feinting high, her hand darting up as if to strike Daiana's temple. Daiana's gaze flicked, just for an instant. That was the opening. Yome's heel snapped low instead, cutting toward Daiana's shin.
In response, Daiana drove forward in a sudden burst, closing the gap before Yome's kick had even finished its arc, slamming her shoulder into Yome's midsection. The force carried them both down, sand exploding beneath their weight as Daiana tackled her cleanly to the ground.
Yome hissed, teeth bared, as the two of them crashed together in a tangle of limbs. Daiana hooked her fingers into the fabric of Yome's sleeve, yanking hard to twist her off-line. The girls spun half-sideways, grit stinging their faces, and then they collapsed hard into the dirt.
The crowd shouted as they hit the ground, bodies knotting in a scramble of arms and legs. Yome writhed sharp and quick, trying to jam a knee into Daiana's ribs. Daiana arched away from the strike, breath hot and ragged, then pressed down with her weight instead, angling her body across Yome's shoulders.
They grappled in the sand, the grains sticking to sweat-slick skin, grinding into their elbows and knees.
Yome struggled fiercely, but Daiana drove her knee into Yome's thigh, pinning her stance.
Her forearm pressed against Yome's collarbone, not with raw strength but rather with her weight.
The fight stilled. Daiana's breathing rasped in her throat; Yome's chest rose and fell beneath her, sharp with effort, eyes burning with fury even as her body was pinned.
The instructor's hand cut through the air like a blade.
"Winner: Daiana."
For a heartbeat, silence clung to the ground, heavier than before. Then whispers rippled out, louder, sharper.
"She did it."
"Daiana actually won."
On the edge of the circle, Isan's eyes glimmered, not with surprise but with a quiet, knowing satisfaction. Beside him, Shira grinned so wide his teeth caught the light, pride shining from him like heat rising off stone.
Daiana rose slowly, sand slipping from her clothes in streams, and extended a hand down toward Yome.
The crowd hushed again, waiting.
Yome stared at the offered hand, her chest heaving, her face dark with both strain and stubbornness. Then, grudgingly, she took it. Daiana pulled her up.
The two girls stood eye-to-eye, dusted in grit, trembling with exhaustion. Yome's lips twitched into the faintest smile, reluctant but real. Daiana's mouth curved the same, small, sharp, and genuine.
On the platform, Instructor Baki watched in silence, his face unreadable, taking a few notes.