The cheers were still echoing when Aarav stepped off the court, his legs heavy, sweat dripping down his face. Victory felt sharp, not sweet—like a blade pressed against his skin. His wrist pulsed with pain beneath the layers of adrenaline.
Daiki threw an arm around his shoulder. "Beast mode unlocked! Man, you actually did it!"
Aarav shrugged him off, wincing. "Don't… touch the wrist."
"Oh, right." Daiki grinned like a fox. "Our hero's Achilles heel. Careful, bro—girls love a tragic injury story."
Aarav sat on the bench, peeling off the wrist tape slowly, grimacing as the bruised skin came into view. Purple and red blotches screamed warnings, but he kept his expression neutral.
The physio walked over. "You need ice. Now."
"I'll manage," Aarav muttered.
"You'll manage when it's torn and you're out for the season?" The physio shoved an ice pack into his hand and walked away without waiting for an answer.
Daiki leaned in, voice dropping. "You're gonna tell Coach?"
Aarav didn't look up. "…No."
Before Daiki could argue, a familiar voice cut through the hum of the gym.
"You don't play like someone who should be hiding injuries."
Aarav turned. She stood there—the badminton girl—hands on her hips, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Her ponytail was damp, cheeks flushed from her own practice.
He swallowed a dry breath. "It's nothing."
She tilted her head, eyes scanning his taped wrist. "That 'nothing' almost cost you the game."
Aarav said nothing. Her gaze lingered for a heartbeat longer before she smirked.
"Don't break before the finals. Or I'll be disappointed."
Then she walked away, leaving his pulse louder than the crowd.
Daiki whistled low. "Damn, bro. She's either your biggest fan or your biggest problem."
"Shut up."
"Hey, I'm rooting for love AND glory."
Aarav ignored him, staring at the tournament board as it flickered to life. New brackets. New names.
His next opponent was strong—but that wasn't what made his stomach tighten.
Someone else had entered the board. A name that didn't belong to any regular student. No class designation. Just a single word:
Kaien
The name burned on the screen like an omen.
"Who the hell is that?" Daiki muttered, voice uneasy. "Never seen him around."
Aarav didn't answer. But when he glanced across the gym, his breath caught
Near the far wall, half-hidden in the shadows, stood a figure in a black jacket, hood up. His arms were crossed, and though his face was obscured, Aarav felt it—the weight of a gaze sharp enough to slice through him.
Their eyes met for an instant. Cold. Calculating. And then the stranger turned away, disappearing into the hallway like smoke.
A chill ran down Aarav's spine. This tournament wasn't just a game anymore.
It was a battlefield.
Aarav clenched his fist around the ice pack, pain and anticipation twisting inside him. One rival had
fallen. But something far darker had just stepped into the light.