Watching Daichi step onto the arena platform was like seeing a different person entirely.
Gone was the quiet, methodical roommate who helped me with homework and offered understated mountain kingdom wisdom. In his place stood someone whose every movement spoke of years of disciplined training and unshakeable confidence.
His opponent, Hana Mizusawa from Mizu Region, looked equally transformed. The girl who'd seemed nervous during Academy classes now moved with the fluid grace of someone completely comfortable in combat situations.
"Begin!" called the Academy official.
What followed was like watching two different philosophies of combat play out in real time.
Hana opened with water techniques that flowed like liquid lightning—streams that shifted direction mid-air, creating patterns too complex to predict. Her style was all adaptation and fluidity, turning the arena into an environment that seemed to bend to her will.
Daichi's response was mountain kingdom fundamentals taken to their logical extreme. Earth barriers rose with perfect timing, redirecting Hana's attacks while creating tactical advantages. His movements were economical, purposeful, wasting no energy on flashy displays.
"Interesting contrast," I heard Captain Shirayuki comment from the guild leader observation area. "Adaptation versus preparation."
"Both have merit," Captain Tenshin replied, his masked face turned toward the combat. "The question is which approach handles pressure better."
As if responding to his words, Hana shifted tactics, using her water techniques to create a mist that obscured vision across half the arena. Smart—if Daichi couldn't see her attacks coming, his defensive timing would suffer.
But instead of trying to clear the mist or chase her through it, Daichi did something I'd never seen before. He placed both hands flat on the arena floor and closed his eyes.
The earth beneath Hana's feet shifted slightly—not enough to unbalance her, but enough to telegraph her position to someone who could feel vibrations through stone.
When she launched her next attack, Daichi was already moving, raising a barrier exactly where it needed to be without even looking.
"Impressive adaptation," Captain Aomine observed. "He's using her tactical advantage as information rather than fighting against it."
The match continued for several more minutes, but Hana's adaptability began to show its true strength. Every time Daichi settled into a defensive pattern, she found a new angle of attack. Her water techniques grew more unpredictable, forcing him to react rather than plan.
When the end came, it was because Daichi's methodical approach couldn't keep up with her constant innovation. A water technique that spiraled in three directions simultaneously found the gap in his earthen defenses.
"Winner: Hana Mizusawa," the official announced.
Daichi looked stunned as he left the platform. I could see the disappointment in his shoulders, but also a kind of grudging respect for his opponent's victory.
"Adaptation beats preparation when the pressure is high enough," Captain Shirayuki observed, making notes. "Interesting lesson for future reference."
"That was rough," I said as Daichi rejoined our group, looking disappointed but philosophical about his loss. "Hana's adaptability was incredible."
"Mountain kingdom training emphasizes preparation and consistency," he said with a rueful smile. "Apparently that has limitations when facing truly unpredictable opponents."
I watched Kenji return from his victory, looking drained but proud. The knowledge that Captain Tenshin wanted to speak with him had spread through the watching students, and several people were offering congratulations.
Satoru's dominant performance had earned similar attention. Captain Kurogami's obvious approval was already generating speculation about Storm Hawks recruitment.
"Second bracket!" the official called. "Kenji Nakamura versus Taro Hashimoto!"
Kenji's match was a completely different experience, and not in the way I'd expected.
Where I'd anticipated seeing his usual perfect execution dominate the arena, instead I watched Kenji struggle against an opponent who refused to play by conventional rules.
Taro from Tsuchi Region didn't just use standard earth techniques—he combined them with unconventional timing and unorthodox positioning that threw off Kenji's calculated responses. Every time Kenji attempted a textbook perfect technique, Taro countered with something that shouldn't have worked but did.
"This is fascinating," Captain Tenshin murmured, leaning forward with obvious interest. "Perfect technique meeting chaotic innovation."
For the first time since I'd known him, Kenji looked genuinely frustrated. His fire techniques were still flawless, but flawless wasn't enough when his opponent kept changing the rules of engagement.
The turning point came when Kenji stopped trying to maintain perfect form and started adapting in real time. His techniques became less textbook but more effective, flowing with the chaos rather than fighting against it.
When he finally achieved victory, it was through improvisation rather than perfection—a sloppy but decisive fire technique that caught Taro completely off guard.
"Winner: Kenji Nakamura," the official announced.
"Now that," Captain Tenshin said with unmistakable approval, "is what happens when true potential meets genuine pressure. I want to speak with that one after the trials."
Kenji looked exhausted but triumphant as he left the platform, apparently unaware that he'd just caught the attention of Crimson Fang's legendary captain.
"Third bracket! Satoru Ishida versus Mei Watanabe!"
Satoru's match was the most decisive victory of the day.
The quiet, serious boy I'd known throughout Academy training dismantled his opponent with surgical precision. His tactical intelligence was on full display—not just predicting Mei's movements, but actively controlling the flow of combat to create the outcomes he wanted.
"Exceptional," Captain Kurogami rumbled, his massive frame leaning forward with obvious interest. "Pure tactical dominance. That level of combat intelligence is exactly what Storm Hawks values."
Satoru's victory was swift, efficient, and thoroughly impressive. He'd turned what should have been a challenging matchup into a controlled demonstration of superior strategy.
"I'll be speaking with that one as well," Captain Kurogami noted, making marks on what looked like a recruitment evaluation sheet.
As the third match concluded, I realized I'd been unconsciously analyzing everything through the lens of what the guild leaders valued. Each match had revealed different aspects of what they were looking for—defensive capability, technical mastery, tactical intelligence.
But I still wasn't sure what my own strengths were supposed to be.
"You're overthinking it," Rina said, appearing beside me as we watched Satoru accept congratulations from his regional classmates. "Your Academy evaluations consistently highlighted your protective instincts and tactical creativity."
"Protective instincts?"
"The way you prioritize keeping people safe over eliminating threats," she explained. "It's not common among Academy graduates. Most people focus on defeating opponents rather than protecting objectives."
That was true, I realized. During training exercises, my first instinct was always to position myself between threats and whoever needed protection. It had gotten me good marks in team scenarios, but I'd never thought of it as a distinct combat philosophy.
"Fourth bracket!" the official announced, and my stomach dropped.
"Next up: Kaito Hayashi versus Saki Windrunner!"
My hands started shaking slightly as I stood up. All the analysis and observation in the world couldn't completely prepare you for the moment when everything depended on your own performance.
"You've got this," Daichi said quietly. "Just remember what you do best."
"Protect people and think creatively," Rina added. "Don't try to fight like someone else."
I nodded, trying to internalize their advice while walking toward the arena platform. Saki was already there, looking calm and focused in the way that made me remember how effective her wind techniques had been during Academy training.
This was it. Everything I'd worked for, everything I'd dreamed of since that disastrous village trial, came down to the next few minutes.
The guild leaders were watching. My friends were watching. Somewhere in the Academy, Mina was probably watching too.
Time to find out if the village failure could become something more.
"Fighters, prepare for combat!" the official called.
I took a deep breath and reached for the fire inside me, hoping six months of Academy training and one week of secret forest lessons would be enough.
"Begin!"