The metallic tang of anticipation hung heavy in the air of Seiryuu Arena, a counterpoint to the distant roar of the crowd filtering through the vast, subterranean space. Here, sunlight never touched the polished obsidian walls, only the cool, sterile glow of the arena's internal lighting. Down in the sprawling lower levels, the student sections were a microcosm of the academy's rigid hierarchy, each class a distinct ecosystem of ambition, apathy, and simmering dreams.

Class B: 

Rem, her perfectly braided dark hair swaying with each determined step, navigated the stadium steps with an agitated precision. Her sharp, intelligent eyes, usually so composed, scanned the tiered seating with a growing frustration. Where is he? she fumed inwardly, her internal monologue a rapid-fire succession of worried questions and exasperated complaints. Kaito had done it again, vanished without a word, leaving her to navigate the bustling entrance alone. Just when she'd thought he might actually show some genuine interest in something other than his father's tedious corporate projections.

She finally spotted him, a solitary figure leaning against a railing in their designated Class B section, overlooking the entire arena. His blond hair, usually impeccably styled, was ruffled by the faint arena breeze, and his typically composed expression was softened by a rare, almost childlike wonder as he stared down at the silent ring. He was handsome, in that effortless, infuriating way that made heads turn, but it was his mind, sharp and often disengaged, that truly set him apart.

"Kaito!" Rem called out, her voice a tight coil of annoyance and concern, echoing faintly in the vast space.

He turned, his cool, discerning eyes widening slightly in surprise. A small, sheepish smile touched his lips, almost instantly replaced by his usual calm. "Rem. You found me."

She stormed up the last few steps, stopping a foot from him, hands on her hips, a pout twisting her mouth. Her voice was a low, indignant hiss, meant only for him. "Found you? I've been looking everywhere! You said you'd be at the entrance! You just… vanished! Again! Do you know how worried I was? You know how your father is about-"

Kaito winced, the mention of his father a subtle tremor that ran through his otherwise composed frame. He cut her off, his voice softer, laced with a rare awkwardness. "My apologies, Rem. I… got distracted." He gestured vaguely towards the arena. "It's different, seeing it like this. The scale. The… tension."

Rem followed his gaze, her initial anger softening into a familiar exasperation. "It is impressive, I suppose. But you could have at least sent a message. I thought you'd skipped the whole event. You never show interest in these matches. Not even in middle school, when we were both at Seiryuu. You'd always find a quiet corner to read those obscure physics journals."

"I don't," Kaito admitted, a genuine note of curiosity in his voice. "Not usually. But… the atmosphere. It's… intense." He paused, then looked at her, a rare, thoughtful depth in his eyes. "And the combatants. I don't know who they are, just that it's a Class D versus someone. There's a story there, isn't there?"

Rem blinked, surprised. Kaito rarely spoke of others, much less expressed genuine interest. Her pout eased into a look of genuine curiosity. "A story? You mean… a predictable defeat? You're actually interested in a Class D match? Kaito, you're changing. You're actually finding interest in something that isn't… numbers or algorithms."

He looked at her, a flicker of something almost vulnerable in his eyes. "Am I?"

"Yes!" she insisted, a small, almost hopeful smile touching her lips. "You found interest in someone, in something outside your calculations. That has never happened before. You barely looked up when the announcements for these Class D matches came in middle school. You're… different."

Kaito pondered her words, his gaze returning to the arena floor, a subtle shift in his posture. He didn't deny it, didn't deflect. He simply absorbed her observation, a rare moment of introspection for him.

Nearby, Gota Shindou, a solidly built Class B student with a reputation for fierce determination and an almost scholarly interest in combat sports, nodded to himself, having overheard Kaito's last words. Gota's sharp, analytical eyes, usually scanning for weaknesses and strategies, were fixed on the empty ring. He didn't know the combatants, but the whispers of the upcoming match between a Class D and an unnamed opponent had reached him. "He's right," Gota murmured, low enough not to disturb the others but loud enough for Kaito to hear. "The real fight isn't about winning or losing. It's about what you become during it. Seiryuu breaks people. But it can also forge them." His gaze, intense and calculating, was already fixed on the potential battlefield, evaluating, assessing, looking for that elusive spark of a true fighter.

A few other Class B students murmured amongst themselves. "Class D, huh?" one whispered. "Against whoever from Class B or C… tough break for them." Another sighed, "Yeah, they probably don't even know what they're up against."

---

Class C: 

Higher up, in the more comfortable, but still unrefined, Class C section, the air was thick with boredom and privilege. Leoric Vantare, a first-year with a perpetually sneering expression and hair styled into an aggressive, spiky mess, reclined in his seat, surrounded by his sycophantic hangers-on. He didn't know the combatants, nor did he care.

"Honestly, another D-class spectacle," Leoric drawled, waving a dismissive hand. "Couldn't they at least give us someone interesting? This Class D nobody, what's her name? Doesn't matter. Total waste of time."

"Indeed, Young Master Leoric," one of his cronies simpered, nodding vigorously. "Hardly a match worthy of your esteemed attention. Whoever she's fighting will finish her in seconds. Predictable. Utterly predictable."

Leoric scoffed, pulling out a small, ornate mirror to inspect his teeth. "Exactly. I'd rather watch paint dry. Or, better yet, find some real competition. This academy is so dreadfully dull sometimes. What do you think, huh?" he demanded, shoving the mirror towards his crony. "Think this Class D fodder has any chance of making it interesting? No? Didn't think so. Let me know when something actually happens. Or when I can go back to my private training rooms. At least there I dominate." He glanced around, as if daring someone to challenge his opinion, then yawned theatrically. His eyes, however, did drift towards the ring when an announcement began, a flicker of something, perhaps a fleeting curiosity at the audacity of a "nobody" stepping into the ring, momentarily breaking through his bored facade, before he quickly re-adopted his disdainful air.

---

Class D: 

In the packed, less desirable seating of Class D, a knot of students buzzed with a mixture of nervous energy and resignation. These were the academy's rank and file, the ones who knew what it felt like to fight for every inch, to be overlooked, to be the underdog. They didn't know the combatants personally, but the whispers of the match between a Class D student and an unannounced opponent had spread, and they understood the brutal stakes.

"Oh my god, can you believe it?" Nanase muttered, nudging Reiko with her elbow, her voice tight with a nervous tremor. "A D-class against someone from a higher class. I heard whoever it is, they're terrifying."

Reiko, usually quick with a sarcastic retort, just shook her head, her gaze fixed on the empty ring below. "Terrifying is an understatement, Nanase. I heard this opponent has never been beaten in a first-year match. This poor D-class girl... she doesn't even know what she's getting into."

"But it takes guts, doesn't it?" a lanky boy chimed in, adjusting his glasses. "I mean, to even step in there? I'd be shaking in my boots."

A group of delinquents, slouched in the back, scoffed. "Guts doesn't win against power, idiot," one sneered, spitting onto the concrete floor. "She's just gonna get folded like a cheap suit." Another added, "Yeah, why even bother? Just forfeit and save yourself the embarrassment."

"Still," Nanase insisted, a hint of defiance in her voice, "it's… it's brave. I mean, she knows she's probably going to lose, right? But she's still going out there. I hope she doesn't get too hurt." Her voice trailed off, a genuine concern etched on her face.

Reiko sighed, a soft, weary sound. "I just hope her opponent goes easy on her."

Then, the arena speakers crackled to life, announcing the names: Akari Minowa versus Mai Shinonome. A ripple of collective tension went through the Class D section as Akari Minowa's name echoed. They watched her walk out, a solitary figure against the vastness of the arena, and a murmur spread—a mix of pity and a grudging respect. Even the delinquents quieted, their usual bravado muted by the sheer weight of the moment.

Akagiri Rin, seated a few rows back, felt a familiar ache twist in his gut as he watched Akari. The fluorescent lights of the arena seemed to warp, the hushed murmurs of the crowd blurring into a deafening roar. He saw the tremor in her shoulders, the almost imperceptible hesitation in her step, and it was like a mirror image, reflecting a moment he desperately tried to bury. The cold dread, the public scrutiny, the crushing weight of expectation – it had all been leveled at him, too. He was there, back on the table, the final point, the ball sailing wide, the stunned silence, the judging eyes. His breath hitched, a phantom pain in his chest. He saw the fear in Akari's eyes, the desperate attempt to mask it, and it was his own fear, his own humiliation, playing out before him. No. Not again. Don't break. Don't let them see you break. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the images away, but they clung to him, sharp and vivid. The whispers, the pity, the quiet condemnation. He was drowning in it, the familiar despair rising like bile in his throat. His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms, a desperate attempt to ground himself.

From above, Asuka with keen eyes, seated a few rows higher, noticed Rin's sudden stillness, the way his shoulders hunched, the almost imperceptible tremor running through him. She watched him, a flicker of concern in her gaze, wondering what could cause such a reaction in Rin.

Daiki, who was one seat beside her, noticed her gaze fixed on Rin. He quickly went there and gently placed a hand on Rin's shoulder. "Hey, Rin? You okay?"

Rin, still lost in the suffocating grip of his trauma, snapped back to reality with a violent jolt, his eyes flying open, wide and unfocused. He looked at Daiki, his vision swimming, and a single, hot tear traced a path down his cheek. He didn't wipe it away. He just stared, raw and exposed, like a cornered animal caught in the glare of headlights.

Daiki's eyes widened in alarm. "Rin! What's wrong? Are you hurt?" He quickly sat down beside him, his voice low and genuinely worried. "Hey, just breathe. What happened?"

Rin just stared, his chest heaving, the air thick with unspoken pain, the tremor still running through his body. The girl above watched, her concern deepening, but she remained silent, a silent witness to a private breakdown.