Seeing her expression, Rigel smiled faintly.
"Not bad. But… not enough."
The voice was by no means mocking.
Rather, after acknowledging her effort, it was a matter-of-fact reality telling her it still did not reach.
The instant she heard Rigel's words, Testarossa's body instinctively leapt back.
No hesitation, no pause.
Her eyes had regained a beast-like shine again.
"Azure Fang, Wind Blade Palm!"
Together with the shout, what was released from both her hands were blades invisible to the eye.
Palm strikes as if tearing the air itself assailed Rigel in succession.
The sound of splitting wind rang out like thunder.
But Rigel did not move.
Without moving his feet a single step, only by subtly changing the angle of his body he evaded every one of those attacks by a paper-thin margin.
A single strand of hair grazed by a blade and danced in midair.
Only that.
From the audience seats the sound of someone swallowing their breath leaked.
"…W-what reaction speed is that!? He seems to be reading all of Testarossa's fierce assault!!"
The commentator's voice rang carrying shock and tremor.
But there was no hesitation in Testarossa's eyes.
Without moving a single eyebrow she believed in her own techniques and put force into the next move.
"Secret Technique, Flash Sky Kick!"
At the same time she shouted, Testarossa stamped the earth.
At her feet a faint light ran.
It was a flash resembling lightning.
The next instant, with an acceleration enough to warp the scenery, her body thrust toward Rigel.
A sharp kick as if her whole body were concentrated on one point closed in on Rigel's chest.
This time it would hit.
A speed and accuracy she could be sure of.
But.
Her vision swayed.
Rigel's figure vanished.
"…!"
Testarossa's kick only tore empty air.
A miss.
In that instant something cold ran down her spine.
An abnormal presence born behind her.
Reflexively she turned.
There Rigel was.
Without any sound at all, he stood in her blind spot.
The Rigel in front of her wore a calm smile.
No hostility, no tension.
Only a terribly amused face.
Then the index finger of his right hand was quietly extended.
An illusion as if space stopped for only an instant.
In the silence, that fingertip
touched her cheek with a puni.
"Yes, my win."
That single line rang clearly, like a bell announcing the end of the fight.
Rigel grinned.
He looked truly happy, like a child who had succeeded at a prank.
"!!"
The feel remaining on her cheek burned in.
Testarossa's face dyed scarlet in an instant.
Shame, humiliation, confusion, and an unnameable emotion rampaged through her chest.
Rigel's index finger left Testarossa's cheek.
It had been only a slight contact.
Even so, the feel the instant his fingertip touched was burned into her skin with surprising vividness.
A stir rose from the audience seats.
People who could not fully understand what had happened, yet felt that something had happened, made the air tremble with their murmur.
But nothing reached Testarossa's ears.
She only stood there in a daze.
Face still dyed scarlet, lips faintly open. She could say nothing, do nothing.
"I enjoyed it more than I thought."
Rigel muttered quietly.
In that voice there was neither malice nor the joy of victory.
Rather it was a matter-of-fact tone like one scene of daily life.
For him this was not a match. It was something close to "play."
Testarossa drew back slightly.
Her thin legs changed axis with a sway and took distance from him.
Her shoulders rose and fell small.
Her breathing was shallow, yet not disordered.
She was neither tired nor afraid.
Rather, in the depths of her eyes a quiet heat was lit.
"Rigel-kun."
The voice was faint, but clear.
Like a sound reaching from the bottom of water.
And it was straight.
There was no sway or hesitation.
"Nn?"
Rigel moved one eyebrow.
His voice was light.
A composed ring as if the strength had left his shoulders.
"…Did you forget the rules of the Academy Martial Arts Tournament?"
Testarossa asked quietly.
In that voice there was neither anger nor irritation.
Only unshakable will and cold fact were packed in.
Rigel opened his eyes small.
He certainly understood the meaning of her words, that weight.
"Unable to fight, or surrender. That's the only way… it ends."
Testarossa readied herself again.
There was no hesitation in her posture.
It was not over.
She had no intention of ending it either.
As if realizing that, the smile slowly vanished from Rigel's face.
"…If you go that far, it can't be helped."
The smile vanished from Rigel's face.
In its place a faint tension ran.
Play was over.
A blow to truly end it.
At that presence Testarossa straightened her back slightly.
Her body answered by instinct.
It was coming soon.
It would not stop anymore.
The instant his foot moved faintly.
Death.
Vision dyed white.
Sound caught up late.
A sharp sound of cutting wind.
An overwhelming presence of death.
Rigel's fist seemed to catch her face straight.
"..."
Nothing hit.
Rigel's fist had stopped right at Testarossa's nose tip.
In that fist tip an unmoving will dwelled, as if there were a wall.
Testarossa's body froze.
She could not move.
Fear enough to forget even breathing.
No, not only that.
Overwhelming power and paper-thin kindness bound her.
"Come on, we can end it now, right?"
Rigel said it in his usual light tone.
The voice was calm as if nothing had happened.
He lowered his fist and shoved both hands in his pockets.
"Moving around made me hungry. Let's go to the cafeteria or something."
As if it were just an invitation for lunch break.
At those words Testarossa faintly bit her lip and looked down.
That the fist had stopped. She received that meaning more heavily than anyone.
"…Yeah."
"Eh, um…! About the match…!"
The female commentator finally raised her voice.
Confusion mixed in the tone.
Disbelief. No, even a feeling of not wanting to believe seeped through.
Not only her.
The audience, the staff, no one could make their thoughts catch up to that "ending."
Testarossa slowly raised her face.
In her gaze there was neither hesitation nor fear.
Only cleanly.
It was the look of one receiving her own defeat.
"…It's my loss. I surrender."
"Eh…?"
The commentator doubted her ears.
Rigel's fist had not hit.
But even so.
"T-Testarossa has surrendered! The winner is Rigel!!"
The declaration finally rang out.
The next instant the audience seats were wrapped in shouts as if exploding.
"Ehhh!!"
"No way!?"
"The last attack didn't hit, right!?"
"No, but… the movement, Rigel was completely above."
"So she realized the gap in ability…?"
"I can't accept it! Another lucky win!!"
Cheers and curses, surprise and confusion.
All mixed and shook the air of the venue.
At the center, on the stage, Rigel and Testarossa quietly faced each other.
"…I'll get stronger."
It was a small voice.
But it was a voice that reached the chest straight.
Rigel nodded in silence as if answering that, then turned on his heel.
On the back that began walking there was neither a winner's arrogance nor contempt for the loser.
Only planning for the next "fight."
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