The Candidates Enter the Arena!

In the holding room.

There stood the Kamui siblings, facing everyone in the room. A heavy silence filled the air.

In the center was the eldest, Kurochi Kamui — 16 years old. He was handsome, with long black hair and an upright, flawless posture. He carried an elegant presence that naturally demanded respect.

He wore a crisp samurai kimono, spotless and well-fitted. Draped over it was the open white cloak of the Kamui Clan, and around his neck was a scarf that covered from his neck to his mouth. His katana rested at his side.

His expression was calm and serious. His gaze, sharp and piercing. His presence exuded confidence — bordering on arrogance.

To his left was his sister, Gibi Kamui — 15 years old, a stylish, pretty, and outgoing girl with pink hair.

She wore a cute hooded jacket and baggy pants that ended just below the knees, revealing fishnet stockings. Fingerless gloves covered her hands. Over it all, she too wore the open white Kamui cloak, and a pink-sheathed katana hung at her waist.

A confident, superior smirk curled her lips.

On the right stood the youngest, Kido Kamui — a 10-year-old boy with short dark hair, dressed in a simple jumpsuit, also wearing the open white Kamui cloak.

He looked around with excitement, thrilled to see all the other candidates.

Everyone in the room was clearly stunned by their presence because the Kamui Clan had a strong reputation.

But Sagato remained still in his corner. Without moving his head, he glanced at them from the corner of his eye, then turned his gaze back to the floor, entirely indifferent.

Everyone else kept their eyes fixed on the siblings — all except Mania, who sat with her back turned, still slouched on the floor… half-asleep.

Gotan, however, looked electrified.

“Those have to be the black-blooded clan the sensei told us about... Mania, look!”

“Forget it! Lost interest. Looks like this Arena’s gonna be a walk in the park,” she muttered groggily.

“But they look strong!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll let you have them. I only care about taking down that idiot who disappears out of nowhere.”

“You think he’s strong?”

“Won’t make a difference if I’m the one fighting him.”

“Alright then... I’m gonna go say hi to the black-blood siblings.”

Gotan started walking toward them.

On the other side, the Kamui siblings stood in total composure, scanning the room.

“Look, Kurochi! Everyone’s staring at us. They know we’re strong!” said Gibi, grinning with pride.

“That’s no reason to boast, Gibi,” said Kurochi, calm and precise.

“Big bro Kurochi, so we’re stronger than everyone here, right?” asked Kido, curious.

“No. We’re only stronger than those we’ve fought and defeated,” Kurochi replied, with wisdom.

“Then I can’t wait to fight you in the Arena and see who’s stronger!” it was Gotan’s voice, eager and energetic.

Gibi and Kido turned toward the voice, intrigued. But Kurochi didn’t even blink. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move — he simply ignored it.

“Kido, don’t look away when I’m talking to you. It’s disrespectful,” Kurochi said naturally.

“Sorry, big bro. Someone interrupted you and caught my eye,” replied Kido, respectfully.

“It’s fine. What did you learn from my words?”

“That we should never underestimate our opponents.”

“Very good.”

He totally ignored me… Gotan thought, embarrassed.

“Idiot. We’re not even fighting in the Arena,” Gibi said smugly. “We’re going straight into the Special Unit.”

“What!?” Gotan exclaimed, shocked.

“Look at your face, hahahaha!” Gibi laughed, mocking him.

“Kido, Gibi. Let’s go,” Kurochi said.

And with that, they moved away, leaving Gotan standing awkwardly.

On the other side of the room, Meme was staring at Kurochi with dreamy eyes.

She was utterly entranced, unable to look away.

He looks like a prince... so elegant, so graceful… she thought, her cheeks blushing as she watched him walk with calm purpose.

Across the room, there was Shiro Akurama — 15 years old, stood slouched under the weight of a big, rectangular object wrapped in bandages and strapped to his back. He had dark green hair and wore a samurai kimono, with a katana at his side.

Next to him stood Kioji Godoi, also 15 years old — a chubby boy with a ninja tool pouch at his waist.

Kioji stared at the Kamui siblings with frustration in his eyes.

“The Kamui Clan! Getting into the Special Unit without even fighting in the Arena. Even the youngest one’s going through without being 15 yet. Isn’t that unfair?” he asked Shiro, who was distracted and glancing around. “I’m talking to you, idiot!”

“Huh? What?”

“Stop staring at the girls. You haven’t thought about anything else since we got here!”

“Sorry… I’m just a perv,” Shiro replied shamelessly. “What were you asking again?”

“Isn’t it unfair they get in without fighting?”

“What do I care? Fewer strong opponents means better odds for me,” Shiro said, completely unbothered.

But Kioji remained irritated, glaring at the siblings with indignation.

The room buzzed with voices, laughter, and energy. The candidates scattered everywhere, then…

“Attentiooooon!”

A loud voice boomed. All candidates turned toward it. It was a ninja soldier: Genmo.

“Silence! The Feudal Lord and the captains are coming in to give the instructions for the Arena!”

The room immediately quieted.

One by one, the captains entered: Hoshino, Hiro, Kubo, Minata, Suji, Ichiro — and finally Aoi, dragging herself in with a clear hangover.

The candidates looked on, puzzled by her disheveled appearance.

Hanzo and Meme exchanged glances and shook their heads, embarrassed by their sensei.

The captains lined up in formation.

Then, entered the Feudal Lord.

The candidates immediately straightened their posture as Feudal Lord made his way to the front.

“Welcome to the Arena,” he said, with a commanding voice of authority.

***

In the hallway of the Headquarters, judging by the hurried footsteps, someone was clearly in a rush. The person approached a door and opened it slowly, cautiously.

Inside, it was the holding room, where the Feudal Lord was giving a speech beside the captains and in front of the candidates.

From behind the door, that person peeked through the narrow opening.

Up close, it was clearly Otaku Sagashi — a 16-year-old boy with dark hair, glasses, and wearing a utility jumpsuit with shoulder straps.

The chest pocket on his jumpsuit served to hold ninja tools. Underneath, he wore a mesh shirt.

What did I get myself into!? Can I really handle this disciplined army life? I'm late on Arena day, no less! Maybe it’s a sign I should just give up… It’s not a sign, you idiot. Even if it were a sign, with my power this is the only job that's guaranteed. I can’t waste it.

So thought Otaku, still hidden at the door, peeking through the crack.

***

Inside the room, the Feudal Lord continued his speech, with everyone listening intently.

“There are 16 candidates, which means we’ll have 8 fights in the first round. The 8 winners will automatically be accepted into the Special Unit. The fights will be decided by a draw…” Mania raised her hand. “Yes, young lady, speak.”

“Why are the fights random? I don’t want to end up fighting some weakling,” said Mania, clearly dissatisfied.

“I agree!” added Shiro. “I could get matched against someone just as strong as me and be eliminated, while someone weak gets an easy opponent and advances. Isn’t that unfair?”

“We’re well aware of that, but if we judged purely by powers, we wouldn’t need the Arena at all, we’d just approve you based on demonstrations of your abilities. What we’re looking for are true warriors, and those aren’t defined by power alone, but by their fighting spirit. That’s why a duel is the fairest test,” the Feudal Lord replied wisely.

The Feudal Lord nodded slightly to Captain Kubo, who had his hand raised. Kubo stepped forward.

“Being strong is relative. It all depends on perspective. I know our enemies well and I can tell you, they’re not afraid of your special powers. In the Special Unit, we don’t want losers with great powers. We want winners who can turn any ability into a lethal weapon,” Kubo delivered his speech with excellence.

His words were so sharp, even Captain Hoshino smiled a little, impressed.

Hanzo and Meme felt a surge of motivation, especially from that last line.

That idiot always finds a way to stand out. He always knows what to say, what to do. Even with that goofy face, he can’t hide his brilliance. No wonder he’s the only person across all three nations to awaken the ‘triangle’ before the age of 10. Thought Aoi, watching Kubo with admiration.

“They wanted to separate the strong based on their powers, but the Feudal Lord and that captain just explained exactly what you told me earlier,” whispered Kido to Kurochi, who smiled softly and gently patted his little brother’s head.

“That’s my sensei!” Gotan shouted, proudly pointing at Kubo.

Kubo pointed back with a wink and a grin, then returned to his place.

“I believe Captain Kubo Kaisen’s explanation is more than sufficient to answer your concerns,” the Feudal Lord resumed.

They totally dodged my question… smart bastards! Hope I get matched against some weakling! Thought Shiro, frustrated.

“The 8 winners of the first round will then face off in the second round. The 4 winners from there will advance to the third round, where we’ll get the 2 finalists who will battle in the Arena’s Grand Final,” the Feudal Lord continued.

I don’t care about being champion. The important thing is to win that first round and secure my spot in the Special Unit, so I can earn tons of money and prestige. Then, I’ll be able to make my dream come true… to marry three girls: one skinny, one average, and one chubby. So thought Shiro, now very cheerful.

“If the goal is just to enter the Special Unit, and we achieve that in the first round, why bother fighting in the next ones? Is there any specific reward… or is it just to entertain you?” asked Kioji, serious and direct.

“Well, this year, we’ll have the Blood Tournament. The Arena Champion will be one of the chosen fighters, and the remaining top candidates will be considered for the other two slots. You all know the consequences if we lose that tournament… we need the very best to represent our Nation,” explained the Feudal Lord.

Then, Gotan clenched his fists with fierce determination, and Mania did the same with a sharp, focused look.

“I know you’re young, and many of you may want to avoid the Blood Tournament. But those chosen to fight will have their names etched into the Scroll of Heroes. That is the highest honor for a ninja or samurai,” added Captain Hoshino.

A murmur spread through the room. Some of the candidates exchanged glances and others whispered quietly. Their expressions showed that most didn’t care.

Pffft! Big deal. Otaku scoffed in his thoughts, still spying from the door.

“Our enemies are the Viking brutes of Rock, and the Cowboys of Scissors whose firearms are deadly enough on their own, but they can still use them in special ways. If you’re just here for fun, turn around and leave. We want blood in your eyes… or you’ll die!” the Feudal Lord warned with a deadly serious tone.

Then, the room fell deathly silent. And, tension filled the air.

“Now, returning to the Arena rules... it’s considered a victory only if your opponent is unable to fight, surrenders, or dies!” the Feudal Lord declared.

“Dies!?” gasped Meme, horrified.

“Of course. Some candidates possess deadly powers or weapons. They’re not going to risk losing a match just to hold back from killing. That’s why surrender is always an option, before it’s too late.”

“Oh thank goodness...” Meme sighed, relieved.

Everyone burst out laughing at her.

Noticing the mood, Aoi shouted to everyone:

“That’s Meme Bizarrime! You better pray she’s not your opponent… ‘cause if she is, she’s gonna destroy you!”

Then, she laughed out loud.

Shut up, you lunatic! Meme thought, her face filled with dread.

“The 8 approved candidates will be assigned to teams, each led by a captain. We’ll announce the teams at the end of the Arena… and then, the missions will begin immediately. That’s all! You may proceed to the Arena. Let the matches begin!” the Feudal Lord concluded.

The Feudal Lord and the captains exited through one door. And, the candidates went out through another — and Otaku took the chance to slip in among them unnoticed.

***

Inside the Arena!

The Arena had an oval structure and had no roof, exposing the sky above. And, it had tiered stands arranged in three levels, completely surrounding the central area.

At the very top, there was a raised platform with reserved seats for the Feudal Lord and the captains.

In the center, there was a large dirt field, where small patches of wild grass grew here and there without any pattern.

This was the battleground for the duels.

In the stands, there were only soldiers — both ninjas and samurais — and they were all buzzing with excitement for the event.

The Feudal Lord and the group of captains arrived at the platform. Then, the Feudal Lord took the center seat, and the captains followed, each taking their place.

To the left of the Feudal Lord sat Hoshino, followed by Minata, then Suji.

To his right were Hiro, Ichiro, and Aoi — still looking hungover.

Just as Kubo went to sit down next to Aoi, smiling at her, immediately she stood up in annoyance and marched over to the other side where Suji was sitting.

“Move! I want to sit here,” Aoi demanded.

“Get lost, you drunk. This seat’s mine,” Suji snapped, not even looking at her.

“Ah, I see… you want me to sit on your lap, don’t you? Naughty boy,” Aoi said with a teasing grin.

She started to sit on Suji’s lap, but he jumped up instantly, leaving the seat to her and walking off.

Then, Aoi sat and smiled at Minata, who sat beside her. Minata, however, rolled her eyes and turned away in pure irritation.

Meanwhile, Suji sat back in Aoi’s previous spot, next to Kubo.

“You sure you did that blood pact right, Kubo? ‘Cause your girlfriend didn’t just lose her powers, she seems to have lost her mind too,” Suji muttered, to which Kubo said nothing.

A few seats over, Hiro leaned over to Ichiro.

“So, Ichiro… your wife and daughter doing okay?”

“They’re great. You should come by for dinner sometime. Been a while, hasn’t it? Not like we haven’t invited you.”

“I know, my friend… Listen, I promise this week I’ll stop by. I’ll even bring a nice bottle of wine.”

Suddenly, Aoi nearly jumped out of her seat.

“Wine!? Did someone say wine!?” she asked, eyes wide and eager.

Everyone turned toward her, bewildered — especially Hiro and Ichiro, who couldn’t believe she heard that from so far away.

***

Back in the Arena field…

The candidates began entering in a line, and the crowd in the stands clapped and cheered as they made their way in.

While all the candidates walked toward the center of the field, the Kamui siblings turned and headed toward the stands to watch.

Seeing this, Kioji’s outrage grew even more.

The candidates reached the middle of the field and stood in a row, facing the high platform where the Feudal Lord and the captains sat.

There were 16 candidates in total: 6 girls and 10 boys, standing randomly along the line.

Shiro scanned the entire row. He seemed to be looking for something. Then, he left his spot and slipped between two girls.

They both gave him strange looks as he smiled goofily at them.

Suddenly, Genmo, the Arena’s appointed judge, stepped in front of the row, holding a small open box in his hands.

“Attention, fighters! I will be the judge of the matches. Inside this box are folded slips of paper numbered from 1 to 16. Each of you will come forward, take a paper, and return to your spot. Follow the order of the line!” explained Genmo.

One by one, the candidates stepped forward, grabbed a slip, and returned to their positions.

The papers were tightly folded, so the number inside couldn’t be seen in advance.

When it was Shiro’s turn, he took a slip, looked at it, then swapped it for another.

Then another.

Then another.

The line stopped as everyone waited, growing increasingly annoyed at Shiro’s indecision.

Just as he was about to switch again, the girl behind him punched him in the head, forcing him to move along.

He walked back to his spot, rubbing his head with a pained expression.

Once everyone had their numbers, they returned to their places in line.

***

Elsewhere, inside the Headquarters, someone was running — fast, desperately.

The individual wore a black cloak with a hood, completely covering their body and face.

Behind them, a ninja soldier chased.

“Hey! Stop! Come back here!”

But the person kept running.

The ninja threw a kunai — and it hit the fugitive in the back, dropping them instantly.

The body was motionless.

The soldier approached cautiously and nudged the body over with his foot.

And when he saw the face under the hood, his eyes went wide with shock.

Whatever he saw… it wasn’t something normal.

***

Back in the Arena, at the top platform.

The Feudal Lord, observing the candidates closely, he felt a surge of curiosity:

“Captains, tell me… aside from Kurochi Kamui, who isn’t competing, have any of your candidates awakened the ‘X’? Or are they all still at ‘Line’ level?”

The captains began murmuring among themselves. Judging by their expressions, none of them seemed to have a candidate who had reached the X-level.

“It seems not, Feudal Lord. We know that awakening the ‘X’ at this age is a rare case, especially while still in the academy,” answered Hoshino in a proud tone, clearly enjoying the fact that his son was still the only one of the new generation to awaken the X-level so young.

“I see. Most recruits join the army at ‘Line’ level and awaken the next levels here because of the intense routine of training and missions. I asked just in case, you never know. But it seems this wasn’t the time,” said the Feudal Lord with a sigh.

“Actually…” Ichiro began, causing all eyes to turn to him. “There is one of my candidates who has awakened the ‘X’!”

A wave of curiosity spread across the platform.

“Well, say it! Which of your candidates?” asked Hoshino, impatient.

“Sagato!” said Ichiro confidently, pointing at him in the row of candidates.

Everyone looked.

There he was — Sagato — standing still with a serious, calm expression. Always seemingly deep in thought.

Mania, realizing everyone was looking at him, turned with intrigue.

She began to eye him with a mischievous grin.

Sagato, without turning his head, looked back at her with a glance from the corner of his eye, then looked away again with a faint, knowing smile.

“He always seems lost in thought,” noted the Feudal Lord.

“Truth is, this will be a walk in the park for him. Because with his powers, he’s going to win this whole thing… no doubt about it,” Ichiro stated boldly.

Everyone tensed. That wasn’t a bluff.

“Then you'd better not pair him against my girl,” warned Aoi.

“Don’t be stupid!” snapped Minata. “Aside from the fact that candidates from the same captain can't face off in the first round, the matches will be decided by draw. So shut it!”

“You’re only worried about the girl? What about the other one? That walking armory. Why does he even carry that many weapons?” asked Suji.

“I’m not worried about Hanzo. No matter the other candidates’ powers… because he’s here for one thing: to overcome any power.”

Everyone turned their gaze toward Hanzo, who was warming up and stretching casually.

This year’s Arena might be interesting after all, it’s all on you now... Gotan, Mania! Thought Kubo as he glanced toward Gotan, who gave him a confident nod and a smile.

Kubo smiled back, then turned to look at Mania — she was already dozing off standing up. Kubo was left speechless.

***

Meanwhile, down on the field.

Genmo, standing before the candidates, resumed his instructions:

“Fighters, now that you've drawn your numbers, you may open your papers and see what number you got.”

All of them unfolded their slips, eyes curious.

Shiro peeked at his — number four.

Nice, four is a lucky number… Wait! Or is it unlucky? He began to think deeply, and then: it’s unlucky! I should’ve stuck with my first pick!

“Alright, now show your numbers so we can register them,” ordered Genmo. “This is to prevent pairing candidates from the same sensei in the first round.”

All the candidates raised their papers, showing their numbers.

***

Up in the stands again. At the platform...

Kubo, relaxed, started casually scanning the audience in the stands.

As his eyes swept the rows, he stopped, something caught his attention — a figure wrapped in a black cloak, hood pulled low. Suspicious.

It was clearly the same person seen fleeing through the HQ corridors earlier.

But unlike the rest of the crowd, this figure wore no uniform — neither ninja nor samurai. Just a presence that was off.

Kubo narrowed his eyes, intrigued.

“Hey… look down there. Follow my gaze,” he said calmly.

The other captains followed his line of sight and soon they all spotted the individual.

“A spy from another nation?” guessed Ichiro.

“Doubt it!” said Hiro. “A real spy wouldn’t be that exposed. They know being caught means they’re on their own. They could be tortured or killed. This one’s either reckless… or wants to be seen.”

“And clearly didn’t go through the guards dressed like that? She must’ve slipped in by other means,” said Minata.

“Captains, relax!” said Aoi, lazily. “It’s just a poorly dressed person who came to watch a fun show. Chill out.”

“She’s right! Our strongest soldiers are right here. No need to worry. Whoever it is, we’ll deal with them later,” added Hoshino, calmly.

“Let’s stay focused. The matches are about to begin,” said the Feudal Lord.

Kubo, still watching that mysterious figure, analyzed silently:

If the killer of the Amazo clan really is the same man from Rino’s vision, then that one can’t be him. Judging by the posture, the pose… that's clearly a woman.

The cloaked figure turned slightly, glancing up toward them, then quickly looked away.

From closer angle, it was clear from the face that it was a girl, with a pale skin, dark straight hair, and vertical pupils in her eyes.

Even with her exotic features, she looked harmless. And, she was clearly nervous.

***

Back on the field...

Genmo continued:

“Now that you know your numbers, you may leave the field. From now on, whenever two numbers are shown on that screen, their respective candidates must enter to fight. Got it?”

The candidates nodded and turned to look at the screen — an enormous scroll glowing, displaying two separate numbers, both zero.

They exited the field and stood together at a section away from the audience.

“We're ready to begin the Arena's first fight! Fighters, prepare yourselves! Numbers on the screen!” Genmo shouted, raising his hand toward the scroll.

Then, the two numbers on the screen began cycling rapidly and randomly between 1 and 16, switching faster and faster.

The atmosphere turned heavy among the candidates.

Smiles disappeared.

Breathing slowed.

Everyone’s gaze locked on the screen.

The first battle… was about to begin!