Location: Hoshino High Arena / Neo-Tokyo District Combat League
1. The Calm Before the Shouting
The Combat Club bus rattled up the hill toward the district arena.
Half the windows fogged over from Jin's excited breath.
"Gentlemen!" he bellowed. "History awaits! Our first official district match!"
Kei was motion-sick and holding a clipboard upside down.
"Statistically, we should've crashed three times by now."
Rika pinched the bridge of her nose. "If you two don't sit down, I'll have you both forfeit on sight."
Aya leaned over the seat, calm as always. "You nervous, Tomo?"
He looked out the window, city lights sliding across his reflection.
"No," he said. "Just tired of buses."
The moment the wheels screeched to a halt, Jin jumped off.
"Combat Club — assemble!"
No one moved.
2. The Arena
The Neo-Tokyo District Combat Arena wasn't like the school gym — it was massive, polished, humming with electricity and sponsors.
Digital banners lined the walls, reading:
"DISTRICT PRELIMS — PRESENTED BY MINATO ENERGY DRINKS."
Rika's jaw dropped. "They're monetizing student fights now?"
Kei checked his tablet. "Technically it's 'scholastic athletic branding.'"
"Technically," Jin said, "that's my new dream job."
Tomo scanned the space — elevated bleachers, polished mats, the sound of gloves echoing like gunfire.
Every match had a referee, a digital timer, and a cheering crowd.
This wasn't detention anymore.
This was business.
3. Match Assignments
At registration, a clerk in a suit scanned their school ID cards.
"Combat Club, huh?" he muttered. "You guys the ones who went viral for the noodle explosion?"
Jin raised a finger proudly. "The legend lives on."
Rika covered his mouth. "Ignore him."
The bracket flashed across the holo-board.
Round One: Hoshino High Combat Club vs. Minato Technical Boxing Team.
Aya whistled softly. "They're ranked third in the district."
Rika nodded. "Their captain's name is familiar… Rento Minori."
Tomo's expression didn't change, but Aya noticed the way his fingers twitched — a quiet recognition.
"So it begins," Jin whispered dramatically.
4. Between Fights
In the waiting area, the Combat Club sat shoulder-to-shoulder on a bench.
Kei had turned his notes into a betting spreadsheet.
Rika confiscated it. "We're not gambling with school funds."
"It's data-driven!" he protested.
"Then data-drive your way home."
Jin was taping his hands like he'd seen in a movie.
Aya sighed. "You're not even fighting."
"Spiritually, I am," he said.
Across the hall, the Minato Technical team warmed up — sharp punches, heavy footwork, no wasted energy.
Their logo gleamed across their jackets: a single red gear.
Rento Minori stood in the middle, bare-handed, silent, watching his teammates shadowbox.
When he looked up, his gaze met Tomo's across the hall.
Neither spoke.
Neither blinked.
Then the ref called for fighters.
5. The Match Begins
The announcer's voice filled the arena:
"Round One — Team match rules! Two bouts, best of three!"
Rika pointed. "Kei, you're first."
"What? Why?"
"Because you calculated your odds so well."
Kei lasted thirty-seven seconds.
Jin declared it a "strategic morale test."
Aya fought next. Her form was clean, precise — too patient. She won by points, slipping past her opponent's guard like wind through paper.
That left one match — the tiebreaker.
6. Tomo vs. Rento — First Contact
The crowd noise fell to a low hum.
Tomo stepped onto the mat, his gloves hanging loose at his wrists.
Rento rolled his shoulders once, stretching his neck.
He wasn't tall, but built like the air around him had weight.
"You're the one who put my brother down," he said, voice flat.
Tomo nodded. "He was good."
"Yeah. He still limps when it rains."
The ref's hand dropped.
Rento came forward — no warm-up, no preamble.
His jab hit like a gunshot, brushing Tomo's cheek.
Tomo slipped the second, pivoted low.
The crowd screamed.
Rika barked instructions, Jin filmed vertically, Kei yelled numbers that meant nothing.
Rento kept advancing, all aggression, no hesitation.
Tomo's defense looked lazy — but it wasn't. It was measured.
He blocked, absorbed, let the rhythm build.
"C'mon, Eraser," Rento hissed. "Show me what makes you special."
Tomo's eyes didn't waver.
"Not special," he said. "Just stubborn."
Then came the counter — short right, inside line, perfect timing.
Rento's guard cracked. He stumbled but didn't fall.
He smiled, blood running down his chin.
"Good," he said. "You fight clean."
He lunged again, body shot — fast, brutal, precise.
The bell saved them both.
7. Post-Match Fallout
The match was ruled a draw — both fighters too battered to continue, neither conceding.
Crowds erupted; clips hit the net within minutes.
#EraserVsGear trended by sunset.
In the locker hallway, Rika lectured everyone about hydration while Kei tried to sell "I Survived Combat Club Prelims" T-shirts.
Aya tended Tomo's ribs with an ice pack.
"You okay?"
He nodded.
"That guy hits like steel."
"He's used to heavier bags."
Rika glanced up. "Minori said something before he left. Did you hear?"
Tomo shook his head.
Rika frowned. "He said, 'Tell your captain the storm's just warming up.'"
Tomo looked toward the arena doors — where rain was starting to fall again outside.
8. The Ride Home
The bus hummed through the night.
Half the club was asleep, the other half snoring loudly.
Aya sat beside Tomo near the back.
"You're thinking about the fight."
He shrugged. "I'm thinking about why he smiled."
"Because you didn't."
He smirked faintly. "Guess that's fair."
The rain pattered soft against the windows.
Aya said, "You'll see him again, won't you?"
"Yeah," Tomo said. "People like that don't disappear. They wait."
The bus passed a billboard — a poster for the Neo-Tokyo District Finals.
At the bottom: "Featuring Special Guest Referee — Takuro Endo."
Aya followed Tomo's gaze. "Who's that?"
He didn't answer.
Outside, lightning flashed across the skyline — bright, brief, and silent.
[END OF CHAPTER 10 — "District Prelims: The Noise Before the Bell"]