The deeper they walked into the backstreets of the industrial outskirts of Sokyoshi, the quieter the world became. The hum of traffic faded, replaced by the distant thrum of bass echoing beneath the pavement. Neon lights flickered off cracked walls; graffiti tags of rival crews layered over each other like scars.

Ryo led the group through a narrow underground alley, the faint sound of cheering growing louder. “Almost there,” he said, glancing back.

Aoi walked behind him, hands in her pockets, her expression unreadable. She could already feel it—the pulse of the underground beating just ahead. Reina followed at her side, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly.

“You okay?” she asked as Aoi glanced up at her.

“Yeah,” she nodded, earning Reina’s smile.

They reached a rusted steel door tucked behind a convenience shop, the frame covered in old posters and scribbles:

                                                               NO RULES. NO MERCY. NO EXCUSES.

                                                                       WELCOME TO THE ABYSS.

Ryo banged twice on the metal with his fist. A slit opened at eye level.

A pair of sharp eyes scanned them. “Passcode?”

Ryo grinned. “Zero Current.”

A click. The door swung open. Ryo stepped in first, followed by Aoi and the others.

“Zero Current?” Aoi echoed, raising a brow.

Reina let out a chuckle. “You’ll get used to it.”

Aoi stared dryly before rolling her eyes. The air changed immediately. It was heavy—humid with sweat, blood, and adrenaline. The Abyss Arena sprawled beneath an old warehouse, bathed in flickering lights. The crowd packed tight around a circular pit of concrete, roaring and chanting as two fighters clashed. Dust and smoke drifted in the haze.

“Whoa…” Mitsuru muttered, his eyes wide. “So, this is it…”

“It’s louder than I thought it’d be,” Ayane commented, covering one ear.

“Don’t get used to it,” Reina said, eyes narrowing. “Every cheer down here means someone’s about to bleed.”

Aoi stood still, scanning the arena. Her lavender eyes caught sight of familiar figures in the crowd—students, delinquents, and older gang members all watching with vicious excitement. Then she spotted Miyako near the center railing, arms crossed, her sharp gaze catching Aoi’s immediately.

“Aoi.”

Aoi nodded slightly. “I’m here.”

Miyako walked over, boots clicking on the floor. “Took you long enough. The match card’s already set. Our team checked in fifteen minutes ago.”

Ryo’s expression darkened. “So, you’re eager, huh.”

“Yeah,” Miyako replied with a grin. “My word is, Naomi and Makino are fired up for this one.”

At the mention of those names, Aoi’s hand subtly clenched inside her pocket.

Reina’s tone lowered. “You good?”

“... I’m fine.”

Ayane and the others exchanged uneasy looks before their gazes drifted back to Aoi.

“Well, well… look who finally decided to show up.” The taunting voice cut through the air, drawing all eyes toward Nakano. She strutted over with Masaki at her side, a dozen Kurohyou members trailing behind — Makino and Naomi among them.

“What a disappointment,” Nakano sneered, her smirk twisting. “I expected the Nightingales to make a grand entrance. Instead, it’s just… this.” Her gaze drifted across the group before landing on Misora.

Aoi said nothing. Her eyes locked on Makino, whose lips curved into a knowing grin. Her fists tightened, knuckles whitening. When her gaze shifted to Naomi — who only looked back briefly before turning away — her expression softened for a moment.

“So, you decided to tag along too, huh?” Misora said coolly, arms folded.

Nakano scoffed. “Obviously. Unlike you, I don’t back down. Besides, I prefer walking in with actual strength beside me… not a bunch of washed-up weaklings.”

“Watch your mouth, Nakano.” Ayane’s voice came low and sharp, her turquoise eyes narrowing.

Nakano tilted her head; mockery painted across her face. “Don’t act like you’re all that, Ayane. You talk tough, but it’s pathetic. Just like your sister.”

Ayane’s jaw tightened — teeth gritting, fists trembling — before a crooked smile pulled at her lips. A single irk mark twitched by her temple.

“Heh. Guess a warm-up wouldn’t hurt,” she said, voice dangerously calm. “How about a little spar, huh?”

“Ayane…” Misora warned quietly.

“Oh, I like that idea,” Nakano replied, her smirk widening. “It’s almost like you read my mind.”

“No one’s going to—” Misora began, but Miyako’s voice sliced through.

“I’ll allow it.” Miyako smiled faintly. “Consider it a pre-fight warm-up.”

“What?!” Misora spun toward her, disbelief in her tone.

Miyako turned to Reina and Ryo, her smirk deepening. “Any objections, you two?”

Reina exhaled through her nose, shrugging. “None here.”

“Wait, are you kidding me—” Misora tried again.

“I agree as well,” Ryo said calmly.

“Good. Then it’s settled.” Miyako turned on her heel, the Kurohyou members following. Nakano threw one last glance over her shoulder, a chilling grin crossing her face before she walked off. Aoi and the others turned to Ayane, their faces a mix of shock and frustration.

“Ayane, have you lost it?! Why would you start something like that?!” Rikuya nearly yelled.

“Seriously… out of nowhere?” Mitsuru muttered, wiping the sweat off his brow.

Reina sighed, dragging a hand down her face, “I want to sit down a bit.”

Ryo motioned to a row of the bleachers. “We’ll sit there. Best view of the fight.”

They climbed the metal steps, the boards groaning beneath their feet as they took their seats. Ryo sat in the middle, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on the arena. Reina sat beside him, arms folded, while Misora plopped a seat by Ryo’s other side with an intense stare. A few seats away, Aoi, Ayane, Mei, Mitsuru, Raito, and Rikuya huddled together, trying to act calm though the tension pressed down like lead. Mei’s faint smile was the only sign of serenity among them.

Across the space, on the corner opposite bleachers, Miyako and the members of Kurohyou occupied their own section. Miyako sat relaxed, one leg crossed over the other, chin propped on her hand. The glow from the ring lights caught her eyes—sharp, calculating, almost predatory.

“Relax, Misora,” Reina said with a small grin, glancing at the brunette.

Misora huffed, crossing her arms. “Hard to, when you know what’s coming.”

Up above, the announcer’s voice boomed through the loudspeakers. “Alright, next up! It’s the match you’ve all been waiting for—hm?” He stopped mid-sentence as someone slipped a folded note into his hand. His eyes darted over the words, and a slow grin crept across his face.

“Oh? Looks like we’ve got an update, everyone!” he announced, a grin spreading across his face. “The main event’s been pushed back for a bit—but get this! A sudden mini-match has just been announced! Representing Sayonaki High—Ayane Shirakawa! And from Kurohyou—Nakano Murase!”

The pit’s floodlights blazed white as the crowd erupted in roars and whistles, the noise bouncing off the walls like thunder.

“Well, looks like you’re up, Ayane,” Mitsuru muttered, flashing a nervous grin.

Ayane stood, calm as ever. Without a word, she reached into her jacket and pulled out her notebook and pen, tossing them over to Rikuya.

“Here.”

He barely caught them, fumbling in surprise. “Huh? What’s this for?”

“I want you to take good notes of me,” she said simply, her turquoise eyes fixed on the ring.

Her words drew a few gasps.

“Oh yeah,” Raito spoke up, arms crossed. “You’re the one who records people’s fighting styles, right? Only those you admire.”

“That’s right,” Ayane replied, rolling her shoulders to loosen up.

“So why not write about yourself too?” Raito asked, brow raised. “Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Rikuya flipped through her notebook, eyes widening at the manga-style sketches and notes—each detailed, clean, and full of motion. “These are amazing…” he muttered under his breath.

Ayane paused mid-stretch, then turned slightly. “I write about people I admire,” she said softly. “Watching them fight… it reminds me why I love what I do. It gives me pride. But writing about myself?” She gave a faint, thoughtful smile. “That wouldn’t mean much unless someone else was there to see it.”

Aoi’s gaze softened, watching her from behind.

“So… this time,” Ayane continued, glancing back at Rikuya, “I want someone else to observe me. Tell me what they see—how I can grow.” Her eyes gleamed with quiet resolve. “That’s what I want.”

Rikuya blinked, his heart skipping for a moment before she chuckled lightly.

“And besides,” she added, teasing, “you’re the only one here who can process info as fast as I do.”

Mei covered her mouth with a small laugh, while Raito’s eyebrow twitched.

“Hey—what’s that supposed to mean?!” he barked.

Mitsuru threw up his hands in mock offense. “Yeah, what about the rest of us?!”

Ayane ignored them, smiling at Rikuya. “I’m counting on you.”

Rikuya nodded quickly, cheeks-tinged pink. “R-Right! You got it!” He gripped the pen tighter, peeking over the edge of the notebook.

“Good luck out there,” Reina called, giving her a small smile.

“Yeah,” Ryo added with a nod.

Misora said nothing, but her steady gaze spoke for her—don’t overdo it.

Ayane smirked. “I’ll be fine.”

“Oi! You coming or what, shorty?!” Nakano’s voice rang out from the stage, drawing laughter from the crowd.

Ayane deadpanned. “Shorty? Really?” She cracked her neck, jogged forward, then vaulted onto the platform in one smooth motion. I’m not that short.

Nakano grinned across from her, cracking her knuckles. “Finally. Let’s get this started.”