The arena echoed with Hatake’s voice. “Up next—Fumiko versus Henry.”

Fumiko lingered in the waiting room, a nervous weight settling in her chest.

Reiko’s voice, calm and measured, cut through the tension. “Fumiko… I know we drew you in under false pretenses. It is not my place to tell you what to do, but… if the fight turns against you, you can forfeit.”

Fumiko said nothing. She walked out of the waiting room, her steps quiet as Karna, Reiko, Kenta, and Gyoda watched in tense silence.

As she passed through the hallway, Pikari emerged from the shadows.

“My little bird,” he murmured, voice low, “your song is faint. Remain in their cage a while longer. Listen carefully, then return with a melody worth hearing. And you must not yield too soon in this match. Make them believe you fight with all your strength. Should you falter, if you give them cause to doubt, your brothers and sisters will never see another dawn.”

Fumiko trembled, head bowed, as she pressed onward toward the arena.

Meanwhile, in the Lycian waiting room:

Edward’s voice carried icy sympathy. “Henry, I trust you will exercise at least minimal restraint.”

Henry strode toward the arena, his expression a mask of cold determination, every step promising Fumiko’s ruin.

George leaned back, swirling his teacup. “My dear Edward, you know Henry despises the Shugos. I dare say she has little chance of walking out alive.”

Henry’s gaze locked on Fumiko as he entered the arena. She lowered her head, trying to steel herself.

Hatake’s voice rang out. “Begin.”

Fumiko lifted her head—and froze. A golden fist was inches from her face. Instinct took over; she stumbled backward, barely avoiding the blow, and fell to the ground.

From their seats, Karna and the others leapt in alarm.

Gyoda barked, “Oi! That strike—he meant to kill her!”

Kenta’s tone was tense. “Yes.”

Goro from the stands, “He was definitely trying to kill her with that punch”

Fumiko rose still fighting to calm the tremor in her limbs.

Henry adjusted his golden coat, voice dripping with mock courtesy. “My apologies. I did not mean to startle you. I only meant to kill you.”

In the Lycian waiting room, George swirled his teacup with deliberate slowness, eyes barely leaving the arena.
“Albert,” he began, voice measured and dripping with curiosity, “do enlighten me. What, pray tell, justifies this profound contempt Henry harbors for the Shugo clan?”

Albert’s eyes gleamed with the satisfaction of authority. “Our intelligence confirms the following: Henry’s father was executed for the taking of a Shugo woman’s life. Murder, regardless of circumstance or social standing, is murder in Lycia. The sentence was carried out with all due formality.”

Edward’s expression darkened, lips pressed thin. “And the motive behind this… heinous act? Was it not recorded?”

Albert inclined his head ever so slightly, his tone measured, bordering on disdainful. “Alas, the particulars elude our archives. Nevertheless, Henry’s judgment is unambiguous: in his estimation, all members of the Shugo clan—without exception—are thieves and murderers. Their lineage bears the stain of his wrath.”

Charles, still absorbed in his book, “Indeed. His accusation is not without precedent. When the Shugo first traversed to Lycia a millennium ago, they barred our forebears from venturing east. Those who dared defy them were summarily executed. They were sent explicitly to block us from coming to this land. This continued until seven centuries past, when our ancestors reclaimed autonomy and established the society we now inhabit. Though most of their kin remain hidden, a few have integrated with our government, coexisting with us—yet the contempt of our people lingers, unwavering.”

George leaned back, lips curling in a faint smirk. “Fascinating. And yet, despite our ascendancy seven centuries hence, we remained estranged from this continent until a mere three years past. Intriguing, is it not, that Henry now faces one of this clan’s descendants in the arena?”

Albert’s gaze flicked toward the ring, sharp as a blade. “Indeed. Let us only hope the encounter grants her a swift and minimally agonizing demise.”

Edward’s tone, tinged with cold refinement, added, “Though one must confess, the cruelty of fate is not lost on me. The girl shall endure the full measure of Henry’s disdain.”

Henry raised his gloved hand, the stone in his bracelet flaring to life. The ground around Fumiko trembled, loose rocks shuddering before tearing free. With a flick of his will, they launched at her one after another.

She tried to dodge, but the barrage was merciless. A stone cracked against her knee, another slammed her shoulder from behind, one clipped her temple. She barely twisted aside as the last one shot for her hip—but it struck the small white purse at her waist instead. The bag flew from her side, skidding across the floor, spilling open. From it, a pendant clattered onto the ground.

The pendant had a series of nested, concentric rings that are subtly yet deliberately off-center. 

Goro immediately recognised it, “That’s the Shugo clan’s crest”, he exclaimed.

                               THE PENDANT

Fumiko, face pressed against the dirt, lifted her head. Her eyes locked on the pendant, and she stretched a trembling arm toward it.

Suddenly, memory swallowed her.

She was in a narrow alley at night, lamplight lit weakly overhead. The world outside echoed with distant footsteps—searchers combing the streets. On her lap lay a girl, blood pooling from a gaping wound in her chest. The pendant, glinting faintly in the lamplight, hung at the girl’s throat, smeared with red.

“Fumiko…” the girl gasped, blood on her lips. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t save you… or our sisters. I tried….  (chokes on blood) I gave it my all”

Fumiko cries, “I know!!”

The girl spoke, her voice weakened, but her eyes burned as she whispered again, “Promise me… save our brothers and sisters… in my stead.”

“No—” Fumiko shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m not strong enough! I can’t—”

The girl gently placed her palm against Fumiko's cheek, “Yes, you can. You are the heir of the Shugo clan.”

“Don’t leave me!” Fumiko sobbed, clutching her tightly as tears spilled freely.

“Fumiko! Fumiko!” The voice rang sharp, urgent. It wasn’t the dying girl’s. Reality snapped back as Reiko’s cry cut through the haze from the waiting room. “Fumiko! Are you all right? He’s trying to kill you! Forfeit now!”

Henry’s boots crunched against the arena floor as he strode toward the fallen pendant. He bent, plucking it from the dust, the gold glinting against his gauntlet. His cold smile lingered on Fumiko.

“The way you scramble for it,” he said, voice smooth and mocking. “It seems quite dear to you. Such attachment is... touching.”

Fumiko forced air into her lungs. Every breath felt like sand. She dragged herself upright, blood streaking her dress, eyes fixed on the pendant as if it were the only thing keeping her tethered to herself.

“Let it go,” she rasped—voice small, ragged, but resolved.

Henry tilted his head, amusement curling his lips.“Oh? A Shugo making demands? How quaint. But I’m afraid you are in no state to enforce them.”

Fumiko raised her trembling arm. A faint green glow pulsed from her palm.
“I said… let it go!”

The ground beneath Henry erupted—roots splitting the arena floor, lashing upward like living spears. In a heartbeat they shot toward him. Henry blurred, moving very fast, the pendant still clutched tight. He weaved between the vines and closed the distance in a single bound, his gloved fist cocked back, ready to smash through her skull.

Fumiko reacted instinctively. A tree tore itself from the earth before her, bark groaning as it surged upward. Henry’s bracelet stone flared—the punch landed with devastating force, cracking deep into the trunk, leaving a jagged dent.

The vines chased him still, whipping and clawing, but he shattered them one after another with contemptuous blows of his gloved hand. Each strike made the bracelet glow, a clear mark of the magic gear augmenting his strength.

From the waiting room, Karna’s voice burst out in alarm. “Why isn’t she surrendering?!”

Albert leaned back, voice rich with cold, measured authority. “Clearly, Henry’s strikes carry lethal intent. He gives nothing but full force.”

Tenko leaned forward, eyes widening. “Plant magic? That girl can wield it? A spectacle indeed.”

Henry extended his glove hand, holding the pendant. Suspended in the air, he sneered, voice steeped in Lycians’ natural haughtiness.“All this effort… for this trinket?” He let it slip from his fingers, letting it fall. “It will mean nothing once you are dead. Worthless trash—like you.”

He lifted his boot, sneering. “And trash… is only meant to be stepped on.”

Something inside Fumiko snapped. Her eyes flared with rage.
“Stop it!!”

The entire arena floor glowed with green light.

Henry froze, his expression twisting into genuine shock. Even Albert and the other Lycians stirred, their eyes widening as vines surged upward everywhere—splitting through stone, coiling from every angle.

Henry leapt into the air on instinct, but hundreds of vines followed, lashing from all directions. They tangled around him, layer upon layer, until he was ensnared midair—suspended and bound in a writhing prison of roots and thorns.

The crowd erupted in gasps.

Fumiko limped forward, step by step, toward the pendant. She stooped, picked it up, and clutched it tight to her chest. Tears streaked her bloodied face as she whispered, “I’m sorry…”

The arena fell silent.

Gyoda broke it with a bark. “Damn! Looks like she’s got him!”

But Kenta’s voice cut firm and sharp. “No… it’s not over.”

As if on cue, the vines ripped apart. From the shattering tangle, Henry burst free—his body a projectile of rage. Fumiko barely lifted her head before his boot filled her vision.

The kick crashed into her face. She flew, body twisting through the air before slamming into the ground. Dust and blood mixed as she lay there, barely conscious.

Karna’s cry tore from the waiting room. “Fumiko!!”

Henry brushed the last clinging vines from his shoulders, expression twisted in disgust. “Filth! How dare you entangle me?”

Fumiko pushed herself up, her face bloodied, body trembling. Somehow, she rose again—on her feet, unbroken.

Henry’s rage deepened, his words venomous. “Have you any notion why I wear this glove?” He raised it high, the stone set into his bracelet flaring to life, blazing with cruel light. “It serves to shield me from contact with filth. When confronted with vermin of your ilk, I spare myself the indignity of soiling my bare hand.”

The earth groaned. A massive boulder tore free from the ground, levitating high above him.

Fumiko’s blurred vision caught only the silhouette of Henry beneath a towering mass.

“Be gone, filth!” he roared, hurling it with crushing speed.

Fumiko shut her eyes, paralyzed. The crowd screamed as the shadow of the boulder fell over her.

Then—

A thunderous boom. Dust roared across the arena.

People watched in anticipation, but they couldn’t see anything. The arena floor was covered in dust.

When the haze cleared, they saw Karna, Reiko, Gyoda and Kenta next to Fumiko, coming to her aid. But the boulder didn’t reach them. It hung far from Fumiko, motionless in the air, halted. Standing firm before them was a lone figure, his hand outstretched as though stopping a stone no heavier than paper.

It was Goro. His expression didn’t waver.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. The Lycians appeared beside Henry in an instant, their presence sharpening the tension like drawn blades.

“I’m sorry,” Goro said quietly, his eyes locked on Henry. “But I couldn’t bear to watch you crush my friend.”

Henry snarled, launching himself forward with a fist drawn back. “Out of my way, trash!!”

His strike never landed. Hatake appeared in the flash of a heartbeat, intercepting the blow with ease.

“Enough,” Hatake declared, his voice carrying across the arena. “The moment her allies intervened, the match was forfeit. By rule… Henry wins!”

Gasps and murmurs spread through the crowd.

Henry clicked his tongue, face twisted with fury. “Tsk.”

Albert’s voice carried cool authority.  “This farce is over. Return with us to the waiting room.”

Fumiko’s knees buckled, her eyes fluttering shut. Just before she collapsed, Karna darted forward and caught her in his arms. Her pendant was still clenched tightly in her fist, as if her very life depended on it. Reiko scoops her purse from the dust. Around them, the arena gradually emptied, the tension dissolving into murmurs.

From the waiting room, Pikari’s sly voice carried faintly.
“Excellent. Looks like the little bird has earned their trust.”