The jubilant cries and roars of the stadium receded as the hooded fighter strode backstage. There was an air of victory around him, even though his face remained hidden. The glint of the newly-won trophy was the only testament to the prowess he'd just displayed.
His steps were firm and assured, every motion filled with grace, but they were interrupted by two silhouettes that emerged from the dimly lit recesses of the corridor. Both figures were impeccably dressed in sharp suits, standing out against the arena's grungy ambiance. The gleam of an emblem caught the light – the intertwining "R" insignia of Ragnarok.
"We need to discuss some matters of great importance," the taller of the two began, blocking the hooded fighter's path.
The hooded fighter's pace didn't waver. "Not interested."
The shorter agent, not deterred by the dismissal, tried a different approach. "You may be interested to know that we are the architects behind this tournament."
The fighter smirked beneath his hood, sarcasm dripping from his tone. "Oh really?"
Seemingly vexed by the casual disregard, the taller agent reached out, attempting to grab the hooded fighter's shoulder. But in a fluid motion, as if anticipating the move, the fighter took hold of the agent's wrist, using his momentum against him. The agent was on the ground before he knew what hit him, the cold floor pressing against his cheek.
As his comrade braced for retaliation, a sharp voice reverberated through the corridor, cutting through the tension. "Excuse me!"
All eyes turned to a third figure. Imposing, with a balding head and a pair of sunglasses hiding any trace of emotion, he was every inch the authoritative figure. Despite the unexpected situation, there was a sense of calm command about him.
"I am looking for Yuro Kubomi," he declared, his voice echoing off the walls.
The declaration caused the hooded fighter to pause. His face, still as stoic as ever, betrayed no emotion. Yet, beneath the surface, there was a subtle shift. His muscles tightened, his stance became even more guarded. It was a subtle change, but to those paying attention, it was clear that what the man said, instantly had something to do with the hooded fighter.
Slowly, with a deliberate gesture, he reached up, pulling back his hood. The dark spiky hair and striking purple eyes of Yuro Kubomi were revealed, gazing back at the man with a mixture of recognition and caution.
Events are hung heavy with anticipation as questions swirled: Who was this man, and how had he known who the hooded fighter was the entire time?