Opening Ceremony IV – Grace, Grit, and Snow

Setsuna's mind wandered again — quiet, sharp, and unrelenting.

He looked up once more.

Nine banners.

That wasn't right.

There were always eight. Eight participants. Eight captains. A perfect, noble number.

Ten divisions exist in total, he reminded himself.

But only eight are ever chosen to send a fighter.

That's tradition. Politics. Balance.

Two divisions were always excluded. Everyone knew that. It was how the game was played.

But this year...

His eyes scanned the stone archways again — slowly, deliberately.

There are nine banners.

Not hidden. Hung proudly, intentionally, where the entire coliseum could see them.

His gaze shifted — toward the royal balcony.

There stood King Cedric, framed in gold and marble, unmoving, expression unreadable.

But Setsuna knew that stillness. Knew that face.

You're planning something.

And whatever it is... it's for Kazuo.

His jaw tensed just slightly.

What exactly are you planning?

The sunlight flickered against Cedric's white-and-gold clothes. He didn't blink.

A low vibration passed through the arena floor — not thunderous, just the dull thud of another gate sliding open.

From the southeastern gate, two more figures stepped onto the marble.

Just the white banner above them — plain, silent, marked only by the emblem of a golden tree with bare branches, stitched against a backdrop of pale fabric.

The announcer's voice carried out across the coliseum, flat and measured:

"Representing the Royal Guard's Sixth Division — led by Captain Jin Kwan-Ho…"

"…we now welcome his selected fighter: Kaya."

Their footsteps were quiet.

Captain Jin walked with upright calm — a tall, lean man with neatly tied dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and the kind of silence that felt like a blade sheathed just out of sight. His uniform was pristine white with golden edges, his expression unreadable, and his hands stayed folded neatly behind his back as he moved.

Beside him was Kaya.

Barefoot. Silent.

Her build was compact and athletic — like a sprinter, not a knight. Her black hair was cut short and choppy, her skin dark and weather-worn. Stone-plated knuckles wrapped around her fists like naturally grown armor, etched with runes too old to read.

Each of her steps left a faint, brief indentation in the stone walkway — barely visible, like the arena itself acknowledged her weight.

Kazuo stared without meaning to.

She wasn't flashy. Wasn't armed.

But she felt solid. Unmoving.

And then — he saw her eyes.

Yellow.

Sharp. Alive.

"…Hey, Setsuna," Kazuo muttered, keeping his eyes forward. "Her eyes… they look like Cedric's."

Setsuna's reply came casually, without emotion.

"They're not. His are gold. Hers are yellow. Big difference. But I get why you mistake it."

Kazuo gave a small nod, but his gaze lingered.

There was something about the way she moved — grounded, patient, like someone who didn't need to chase anything.

As they passed, Kaya did glance at him. Her Eyes were filled with anger and malice.

She walked barefoot across the stone — silent, steady — and joined the others on the far side of the arena.

Captain Jin followed with equal ease. No salute. No nods. No wasted motion.

Division Six had arrived.

And it said nothing.

The distant rumble of another gate shook the arena — and a new presence stepped forward.

From the southwestern gate, beneath a gentle pink banner adorned with a blooming lily in silver thread, two figures emerged.

The announcer's voice rose again, this time with an airy flourish:

"Representing the Royal Guard's Seventh Division — the Blooming Whisper herself, Captain Alenia — and her chosen fighter, Sylvain!"

The reaction wasn't thunderous, but warm — a ripple of pleasant recognition. Nobles in the higher tiers leaned forward. A few even smiled.

From the far end, Captain Alenia stepped into view.

She was a vision of grace — tall and pale-skinned, with her pink hair with silver ends braided into an intricate loop that crowned her head like a circlet of woven light. Translucent wings shimmered softly behind her back, casting a faint trail of blue fairy dust that drifted lazily in the summer air.

She wore a long pink-and-white dress, lined with floral stitching and soft violet thread — her presence regal, but never rigid.

And she was smiling.

Genuinely.

At her side walked her chosen fighter — a young fairy boy with delicate features, neatly styled platinum hair, and a tailored dueling suit with polished boots. He moved like a young noble at a ball — graceful, trained, perfect posture. Sylvain, Kazuo guessed. He carried himself like a little prince.

The crowd watched them descend the path, whispering politely.

"She's so radiant…"

"That's Captain Alenia. The fairy queen who never frowns."

"She used to train with Cedric, didn't she?"

Alenia was the first to extend her hand — not stiff, not formal. Just kind.

Setsuna took it with a faint nod.

"You're glowing again," he said.

She laughed. "Darling, I always glow."

Then she turned to Kazuo.

"And this must be the infamous one," she said warmly, offering him her hand without hesitation. "You carry a heavy name, Kazuo. But your eyes don't look heavy."

Kazuo hesitated — then accepted her hand.

Her skin was cool and soft, and for a moment, a few drifting flecks of dust floated between them.

"You don't seem worried," he said quietly.

Alenia tilted her head. "I'm not. Worry wrinkles the wings."

Then, with a wink, she turned and stepped toward the arena, her smile never fading.

Sylvain followed without a word, his chin lifted, his pace steady. He didn't acknowledge Kazuo — not out of arrogance, but because it seemed like he had been trained not to.

As they reached the platform, their footsteps left no echo.

Soft.

Refined.

Measured.

Kazuo watched them go.

Setsuna muttered under his breath, "Don't mistake friendliness for weakness."

Kazuo didn't answer. He was still watching the way her wings caught the sunlight — like sheets of light-glass drifting behind her.

She wasn't cold like Shiranami.

And yet…

She scared him just a little more.

The distant rumble of the last gate shook the arena — and a new presence stepped forward.

From the northeastern gate, beneath a pale gray banner marked with a black snowflake, two figures emerged.

The announcer's voice rang out across the coliseum, steady and final:

"Representing the Royal Guard's Eighth Division — Captain Kaien Isari — and his chosen fighter, Yuki."

Captain Kaien was tall and lean, dressed in simple gray robes with a high collar. His face was unreadable, his pace unhurried. He did not look at the crowd.

At his side walked Yuki — a white-haired boy, barefoot, calm. His light-blue robe fluttered faintly as he moved, and a thin veil of snowflakes followed quietly behind him.

He didn't look nervous.

He didn't look excited.

Just present.

As they reached the platform, Captain Kaien gave a small nod to Setsuna and walked on.

Yuki stopped briefly in front of Kazuo.

He extended a hand — small, polite.

"…Nice to meet you," he said softly.

Kazuo took it.

It was cold.

Then Yuki moved on without another word, the snow fading as he stepped onto the platform.

And just like that — the Eighth Division was in place.

And with that the participants are complete...or are they?

Setsuna still trying to figure out which divisions banner belongs the ninth