The next morning, Kuro and Arnold found letters slipped under their doors. Curiosity got the better of them, and they quickly opened their letters, only to feel a wave of panic wash over them.
Kuro's face paled as he read:
Dear Kuro,
I have told your mother about you drinking. She will be arriving in some time.
Akari
He gulped, imagining his mother's wrath descending on him any moment. "She... she wouldn't actually tell my mother... right?" he muttered, but he had no time to ponder it. He shot up from his bed, frantically strategizing escape plans.
Meanwhile, in the next room, Arnold's expression turned into one of horror as he read his own note:
Dear Arnold,
If you don't stop hiding, I'll increase your training hours, and they'll be torturous.
Akari
"Extra training... torturous training..." he whispered to himself, his face turning a bit green. "I have to apologize... or... or I'm done for!"
Both boys bolted out of their rooms, only to nearly run into each other in the hallway, looking equally shaken.
"You got one too?" Kuro asked, holding up his note.
Arnold nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah... and she's serious."
They stared at each other, dreading what awaited them if they didn't finally face Akari.
Kuro and Arnold finally mustered up the courage and found Akari waiting for them with an unreadable expression. They glanced at each other, silently hoping to get through this unscathed. However, Akari's gaze landed on Kuro first, her eyebrow raised.
"So…drinking at sixteen, huh?" she said, crossing her arms. "And the whole... uh... kissing incident?"
Kuro tried to flash an innocent smile. "Akari, I swear, it was the drink! I didn't even know what I was doing!" he protested, backing up slightly.
Akari, however, was in no mood for excuses. "Well, here's something to help you 'remember' better," she said with a wicked grin. Before he knew it, Kuro was on the receiving end of a playful but firm slap to his shoulder, followed by a series of harmless but swift smacks. Each one made him stumble back a little more until he was practically yelping.
"OW! Okay, okay! I get it!" Kuro yelped, rubbing his now-sore shoulder. His entire face was flushed—both from embarrassment and the sheer force of her "lesson." "This is so unfair..."
Turning to Arnold, Akari's expression softened as she held back a laugh. "And you," she began, giving him a sly smile, "I owe you an apology for that…um… 'peck,' but, well, it was part of a dare."
Arnold blushed but managed to grin. "So, you mean it wasn't just my charm?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Ha! Keep dreaming," Akari replied with a smirk, playfully nudging him.
As they walked away, Kuro limped along, groaning. "I swear, I'm never drinking again," he muttered, earning a smirk from Akari and a laugh from Arnold.
"Good choice," Akari called over her shoulder, clearly amused. "Unless you want another lesson!"
As soon as Akari was out of sight, Arnold leaned over to Kuro with a grin. "So… you got a beating, and I got an apology," he said, drawing out the last word with a smirk.
"Yeah, whatever," Kuro muttered, still rubbing his sore shoulder.
Arnold chuckled. "And don't forget, I also got a free peck out of this whole thing," he added, smugly crossing his arms.
Kuro's face went red as he shot him a glare. "Oh, keep talking, and we'll see who needs an apology next," he retorted, fists clenched.
Arnold just laughed, thoroughly enjoying Kuro's reaction. "Jealousy's not a good look on you, Kuro. Maybe next time, try not to get caught drinking!"
The arena buzzed with excitement as Akari stepped onto the field, facing her first opponent: a noisy, overconfident boy with wild blue hair and a cocky grin plastered on his face. His wings flexed with a subtle shimmer as he took his stance, obviously ready to make a show of his aerial advantage.
The match began with a burst of energy, the boy immediately launching himself into the air with a powerful flap of his wings, swooping down in a swift, diagonal strike aimed at Akari. She sidestepped gracefully, her own movements precise as she twisted to avoid his blade, using his momentum against him. He overshot, forced to land and pivot awkwardly, scowling as he realized she had outmaneuvered him in just a second.
He tried again, darting around her in a quick series of evasive feints. With each pass, his sword lashed out, but Akari met every attack with a swift block or dodge, her focus unbroken. At one point, he attempted to catch her off guard by angling upward and then plunging down in a spiraling thrust. Akari dropped low, sweeping her leg to take advantage of his landing. He stumbled, barely managing to keep his balance.
Seeing an opening, Akari advanced, executing a series of lightning-fast slashes and jabs, each move clean and controlled. Her opponent tried to parry but was clearly overwhelmed. His wings beat furiously, desperate to create space between them, but Akari kept pace, pressing him back toward the arena edge.
In a final effort, he lifted himself just above her head, planning to swoop down and disarm her. But Akari anticipated the move, lunging forward and catching him mid-dive with a strong, upward swing that knocked his sword from his grip
Kuro stepped into the arena, his dark gaze focused on his opponent—a tall, strong girl with wild purple hair who was clearly no pushover. Her stance was sturdy, and her wings flexed with a strength that hinted at her power. The audience murmured in anticipation; this was going to be a tough match.
The bell rang, and she charged forward, her wings lifting her just off the ground as she swung her sword with a brutal force. Kuro barely had time to dodge, feeling the whoosh of her blade slice through the air inches from his face. He twisted to the side and retaliated with a quick strike of his own, but she blocked it with ease, her strength pushing him back.
The girl didn't let up, using her wings to dodge and maneuver with a surprising agility for her size. She came at him in a relentless assault, her sword flashing in a flurry of powerful swings. Kuro found himself on the defensive, using his own wings to pivot and block her blows, but each clash sent a jolt up his arms.
Suddenly, Kuro spotted an opening as she lifted her blade for an overhead strike. He darted forward, his speed almost blurring as he slipped past her guard and scored a glancing hit on her shoulder. She winced but quickly spun around, her wings flaring wide as she pushed him back with a fierce swing.
The match grew more intense, both of them circling and diving, their wings carrying them in a brutal, mid-air dance. She managed to land a few hits, leaving Kuro's shoulder aching and a cut on his cheek, but he gritted his teeth, determined not to back down. He feinted left, then right, trying to throw her off balance. She hesitated, just for a second, and he seized the chance.
With a powerful upward thrust, Kuro knocked her sword arm off course and delivered a swift kick to her midsection, sending her staggering back. Before she could recover, he advanced, his own wings beating to keep his balance as he delivered a decisive, downward strike. Her sword flew from her hand, clattering to the ground.
Breathless and bruised, Kuro held his blade steady as she raised her hands in surrender. He'd won, but it had been no easy feat. The crowd erupted into cheers, and Kuro gave a slight nod, acknowledging the intense, grueling match he'd just endured.
Arnold stood in the arena, his focus intense as he faced his opponent—a bulky, muscular boy with broad shoulders and wings that rippled with power. The boy's name was Roderick, and he had a reputation for his sheer strength and unyielding determination. Arnold wasn't intimidated by his size, but he knew this match would test his resolve like never before.
The bell rang, and Roderick launched forward with incredible speed for someone of his size, his wings propelling him through the air as he aimed a crushing blow with his sword. Arnold barely managed to parry it, the impact reverberating up his arm. The crowd gasped, impressed by Roderick's strength, but Arnold stayed focused. He had to find a way around the brute force.
Roderick wasn't just about raw power; he was calculating. He feigned a strike to Arnold's left side, only to follow it up with a low, sweeping strike aimed at his legs. Arnold's instincts kicked in, and he leapt into the air just in time, his wings flapping furiously to give him the height he needed to avoid the attack. He twisted midair, swinging his sword in a rapid arc, but Roderick was ready, raising his own blade to block.
The two of them circled each other, wings beating in rhythm as they traded blows. Arnold could feel the burn in his arms as the effort to block Roderick's relentless strikes started to take its toll. The bulky boy was relentless, his strikes like hammers, each one pushing Arnold back further and further. He was trying to keep up, but Roderick's raw power was starting to overwhelm him.
At one point, Arnold was knocked to the ground, his wings scraping against the dirt. The crowd gasped, and for a moment, he felt like he might not get up. His body ached from the blows, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. He could see the determination in Roderick's eyes—the same fire that burned in his own. This wasn't just about winning; this was about proving something to themselves.
Roderick hovered above him, looking down with a mix of respect and confidence. "You've fought well, but this is where it ends," he said, his voice low and filled with the certainty of victory.
Arnold's heart raced. He knew he couldn't give up. He had to find his strength, even when it felt like his body was betraying him. He remembered the lessons Akari had taught him—about resilience, about adapting, about thinking outside the box. He couldn't match Roderick's strength, but he could outsmart him.
In that moment, Arnold did something unexpected. He faked a limp, pretending to be more injured than he actually was. Roderick, thinking he had won, charged in for the final blow, his sword raised high. But Arnold was ready. With a burst of energy, he used his wings to launch himself upward, dodging the incoming strike by a hair's breadth. The surprise on Roderick's face was all Arnold needed.
With one swift motion, Arnold twisted in midair, bringing his sword down with all his remaining strength. He caught Roderick off guard, the blade finding its mark on the boy's arm, knocking his sword away. Arnold didn't hesitate. He used the momentum of his strike to land a powerful kick to Roderick's chest, sending him tumbling back, his wings faltering as he tried to regain his balance.
The crowd was silent, watching as Roderick struggled to his feet, his chest heaving. He looked at Arnold, his eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and admiration. "You... You beat me," he said, his voice barely audible.
Arnold stood there, his sword in hand, his wings trembling from exhaustion. His heart was racing—not from fear, but from the overwhelming emotions of the match. He had given everything he had. And in that final moment, he had found the strength to win, not with brute force, but with cunning and heart.
"I didn't give up," Arnold whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. "And neither should you."
With a look of mutual respect, Roderick nodded, conceding defeat. Arnold had won, but it wasn't just about the victory. It was about the fight, the perseverance, and the courage to keep going even when the odds seemed impossible.
As Arnold raised his sword in salute to Roderick, the crowd erupted into applause, their cheers filling the arena. Arnold's chest swelled with pride, not just for the victory, but for the journey that had led him here. He had earned this moment, and he knew it was only the beginning.