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The arena was smaller than I expected.

Not in size, but in weight. It didn't feel like a practice yard—though it was exactly that. Fenced in with wooden stakes, dirt underfoot, some worn patches that spoke of years of training. But standing there, watching Rin and Ayame take their places across from each other, it felt heavier. The kind of place where something more than sweat was about to be spilled.

I lingered just behind the others, my hands shoved into my pockets, my head still aching faintly from everything I'd heard in the last few days. And now—this? A duel.

"Alright, ladies," Mei announced, striding out into the center like she was born for this role. Her grin was so wide, so sharp, I swore she might start charging ticket fees to us spectators. She spread her arms, her voice ringing like some professional referee in a packed stadium. "The rules are simple! Use whatever power at your disposal. No restrictions. No hand-holding. First person to pin the other in a life-threatening position—wins."

Her words cut through the dusty air.

"Wins… what exactly?" I muttered under my breath.

But before I could ask it aloud, Mei tilted her head toward the two fighters, her grin widening. "The winner also gets…the prize."

Prize.

My chest tightened at that word. Nobody told me what that meant. Nobody told me why Rin's tail was flicking so hard or why Ayame's jaw was tight with something between annoyance and resolve. But I was the only one in the group who seemed confused. Everyone else—their eyes were bright, like they already knew what the prize was.

"Ready?" Mei asked, planting her hands on her hips.

Ayame's head dipped. "Always."

Rin's voice was quieter, but her green eyes gleamed. "I was born ready."

I swallowed. My heart skipped.

The air grew tense. Rin shifted first, her body crouching low, hands curled with sharp nails, her frame already starting to warp into that dangerous fox-hybrid form she had been struggling with for so long. Her ears elongated, fur bristling at the edges of her limbs, tail stiff with anticipation. She was crouched like a predator, every inch of her trembling with energy, an animal about to pounce.

Across from her, Ayame lowered her body into a stance that made the air itself hold its breath. Her right leg bent forward, grounding her balance. The left stretched back, taut and straight, her knee hovering just above the dirt. Her head dipped low, chin tucked, eyes sharp as her gaze lifted just enough to stare across the space between them. Her left hand rested calmly on her sword's sheath. Her right hand hovered above the hilt, fingertips poised. Not tense. Not trembling. Just waiting.

The picture of discipline.

The opposite of Rin's wildness.

I felt my throat tighten. My pulse quicken.

Mei grinned so wide her teeth flashed. She threw a hand into the air dramatically. "Then—"

A deep gong sound resonated out of nowhere, echoing in the pit of my chest. I jerked, looking around, searching for where it had come from—but there was no bell, no instrument. Just sound. Raw, commanding sound.

And Mei's voice, sharp and merciless.

"FIGHT!"

The world blurred.

One instant they were standing across from each other. The next—gone. Just two streaks of motion colliding in the middle with a burst of sparks.

My eyes widened. I blinked hard.

The sound came first. Steel screeching against claws. Sparks igniting where they collided. The crash of footfalls against dirt, the hiss of air splitting apart under their speed. It was deafening.

But my eyes couldn't keep up.

"Wait—what? Where'd they—" I spun, scanning the arena. But all I saw were bursts. Blurs. Streaks of silver and brown, flashes of movement that vanished before I could focus. A loud impact rattled the fence, and Rin's tail flickered into view—then vanished. Another spark showered the air like fireworks, and Ayame's blade flashed for the briefest heartbeat before it was gone again.

"They're—what the hell—they're moving too fast!" I shouted over the noise.

Beside me, Akane only smirked, her arms folded. "Keep watching."

"I am watching!" I yelled back. "I just can't see anything!"

Another clash of steel and claw rang out. Rin's voice hissed low and animalistic. Ayame's grunt answered. And then nothing. Empty space.

"Who's winning?" I demanded.

Sora, quiet as always, was standing closest to me. Her silver hair shifted as she turned, her calm eyes watching the chaos like she was reading lines in a book.

"…It's even," she whispered.

"Even? I can't see a damn thing! What's even happening? Who's landing what?" I snapped, gripping the fence in frustration. Another burst of sparks lit the air, Rin's figure appearing for half a second before vanishing again. My pulse thudded louder with every impact.

So I asked again. "Who's winning now? Sora?"

She didn't answer immediately. Another clash rang out. Ayame's blade skidded against the dirt, leaving a glowing mark, then disappeared again.

"Still even," she murmured.

"This is insane." I dragged a hand through my hair. "You all see this? You can actually—"

"Yes," Mei interrupted, her grin never faltering as she leaned casually against the fence, as if she were watching her favorite play. "We can. You're just too slow."

I stared at her. "Too—what do you mean I'm too slow? They're moving like lightning—"

"That's the point," Elira interjected softly. "You must learn to see what others cannot. Otherwise, all you will ever hear is the noise of their strength without knowing its shape."

Her words only frustrated me more. I was practically bouncing on my heels, whipping my head back and forth with every spark, but it was like trying to track bullets with the naked eye.

Another burst. Another hiss. Rin's claws carving air. Ayame's blade singing back in reply.

"Damn it, Sora, just—tell me who's winning every two seconds, okay?" I pleaded, grabbing her shoulder. "I can't—this is—"

Her lips curved faintly. Almost amused.

"…You really want to see?" she asked softly.

"Yes! Please!" I groaned, throwing my arms up. "I'm standing here like an idiot while the rest of you look like you're watching a damn theater play!"

Sora blinked slowly. Then raised a hand, her fingers glowing faintly. A small glyph circled around her palm, delicate silver threads weaving in the air.

The light condensed. Shaped. And then—a set of binoculars, glowing faintly with runes, appeared in her hands.

She held them out to me without a word.

I stared at them. "…Magical binoculars?"

"They'll slow the fight for your eyes," she explained calmly. "Not theirs. Just yours."

I grabbed them without hesitation, pressing them to my face.

And the world changed.

The blur sharpened. The streaks split into movement. For the first time since the fight began, I saw.

Rin's claws swiped, gleaming with foxfire. Ayame's sword slid against them, sparks scattering as she pivoted, her body low and sharp. Rin lunged, her tail whipping for balance, her jaw open in a snarl. Ayame sidestepped, her blade dragging across the dirt as she swung up to meet the claws.

They weren't blurs anymore. They were dancers. Warriors. Rivals.

Every strike, every block, every step—suddenly clear.

My mouth fell open. "Oh… oh, holy shit."

The binoculars trembled in my hands as I followed the dance, heart racing. My pulse rose with every strike. And for the first time, I wasn't just hearing the fight. I was inside it.

---

Through the enchanted lenses, the fight unfolded like fire given shape.

Ayame was the first to break the balance. Her body dipped, then surged forward with frightening speed, her blade flashing low in a horizontal sweep aimed straight for Rin's midsection. The sharp hum of steel tore the air apart, and even through the binoculars I felt my chest tighten—if that landed, Rin would be split open.

But Rin was not still.

With a sudden burst of power, she kicked off the dirt, her tail snapping behind her as she soared upward. The blade cut nothing but air beneath her, a clean slice that carved through dust in her wake. Midair, Rin twisted gracefully above the swing, every muscle alive with that wild fox-energy, claws stretched wide like hooked blades as she came down toward Ayame with a furious snarl, her nails glinting like daggers in the sun.

Ayame's eyes flickered, cool and calculating. In the span of a heartbeat, she adjusted—her blade turning vertical, the steel intercepting the swipe of Rin's claws. The sound was savage. A metallic shriek cracked against the air, sparks scattering like stars as claw and sword pressed against each other.

The pressure shook the ground. Rin's face twisted, fangs bared as she pushed with raw strength, tail bristling, trying to force Ayame down. Ayame's body remained grounded, firm as stone, her arms steady even as her boots dug faint lines into the dirt.

And then—

Shift.

A motion too quick for anyone untrained to catch. Ayame's wrist flicked, her blade pivoting at just the right angle to redirect Rin's force. Rin stumbled forward half a step, her claws slicing past Ayame's shoulder harmlessly.

I gasped. "She turned it—she turned her attack!"

Rin's ears flicked, her eyes wide for a fraction of a second. She spun to recover, claws swinging for another strike, but Ayame was faster.

Steel rang once more as Ayame's sword angled upward, batting Rin's claws aside. And before Rin could counter, Ayame's blade slid back—disappearing into its sheath in a single, fluid movement.

"What—she's putting it away?!" I blurted.

The truth landed in the same instant as Rin did. Ayame's empty hand shot forward, faster than my eyes could follow even through the magical binoculars. She caught Rin by the arm mid-swipe, twisting her wrist just enough to lock her in place. Rin's eyes flared, her momentum betrayed by the sudden trap.

And then Ayame moved.

With a guttural yell, Ayame pivoted her hips, her grip iron-strong, and swung.

Rin's body lifted clean off the ground, her claws flashing in desperation as the world spun around her. Her tail whipped behind her like a banner as Ayame hurled her across the arena.

The sound of impact was brutal.

Rin's body hit the dirt with a thunderous crash, her boots dragging deep scars into the ground as she slid backward. Dust and grit sprayed up around her, the whole arena trembling under the force of her stop.

When she finally came to a halt, crouched low and breathing hard, her claws dug furrows into the soil just to hold herself steady. Her hair was wild, her fox ears twitching with adrenaline, her green eyes burning like fire.

And across from her—Ayame stood tall, sword still sheathed, her stance unwavering, her expression unreadable.

The crowd—the girls—were silent for a heartbeat. Only my own ragged breathing filled my ears.

This wasn't sparring anymore.

This was war.

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