Opening Ceremony, Part IV: Captains of the Royal Guard

Ten divisions in total. Eight ever chosen.

And yet—nine banners.

The thought returned, sharp as a blade. Setsuna's eyes lifted toward the royal balcony.

Cedric sat there, framed in gold, still as stone.

He drew a slow breath through his nose.

You're planning something… and whatever it is, it's for Kazuo.

A low vibration passed through the arena floor. Another gate sliding open.

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

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

"…we now welcome his chosen 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.

At his side was Kaya.

Barefoot and silent.

Her build was compact and athletic — like a sprinter, not a knight. A plain white headband tied across her brow caught the light. Her black hair was cut short and choppy, her sun-browned skin marked by weather more than polish.

Each of her steps left the faintest indentation in the marble walkway — barely visible, as though the arena itself acknowledged her weight.

Above them, a golden tree emblem flared to life, its branches bare yet unbroken, before fading into sparks.

Kazuo stared without meaning to.

She felt solid. Unmoving.

And then — he saw her eyes.

Yellow.

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

Setsuna's reply came casually, without motion.

"I get why you'd mistake it… but there's a difference. His eyes burn with gold — hers are only yellow."

Kazuo gave a small nod, but his gaze lingered.

Protocol demanded a show of courtesy. Captain Jin extended his hand to Setsuna, and the two men clasped briefly, nodding once in mutual acknowledgment.

Kazuo stepped forward in turn, offering his hand to Kaya.

She ignored it.

Without a word, she moved past him and continued down the line — shaking hands with the others on the platform, her expression cool and composed.

For a moment, Kazuo stood there awkwardly, lowering his hand with a faint stiffness in his chest. Only then did he realize the look she'd given him in passing.

Her eyes had been full of anger.

Division Six had arrived.

Kazuo frowned to himself. What was that all about?

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

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 southwestern gate, Captain Alenia stepped into view.

She was a vision of grace — tall and pale-skinned, her pink hair tipped with silver, braided into an intricate loop that crowned her head like a circlet of woven light. Translucent wings shimmered softly behind her back, scattering faint trails 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. 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.

Above them, a silver lily emblem flared to life, blooming against the sky before fading into sparks.

The crowd watched them descend the path, whispering politely.

"She's so bright…"

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

"She used to train with the king 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 center, her smile never fading.

Sylvain followed without a word, his chin lifted, his pace steady. When he reached the platform, he offered his hand with practiced courtesy — the polite, precise grip of someone raised to follow every rule.

Kazuo accepted it, feeling the faint softness of the boy's touch — refined, deliberate, as if even this gesture had been drilled into him.

Then Sylvain moved on, posture unbroken, the picture of noble training.

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 Kaito… and his chosen fighter: Yuki!"

Captain Kaito 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, calm and composed. His light-blue robe fluttered faintly as he moved, a thin veil of snowflakes trailing behind him with every step.

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

Yuki stopped before Kazuo.

He extended his hand — precise, polite.Kazuo took it. His skin was cold.

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

Above them, a silver grail emblem flared to life, brimming with pale light before fading into sparks.

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

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