Bloom upon the Mark-Chapter 7:Nature vs Wind
Back in the locker room, the echoes of Renjiro's victory still rumbled through the walls.
The crowd outside was chanting his name like thunder caught in a bottle.
Renjiro sat on the bench, arms resting on his knees, still breathing hard. Bits of silver dust from his shattered armor clung to his robe.
Across from him, Ren grinned. "You were insane out there, man. You and Takuma nearly leveled the place!"
Renjiro managed a tired smile. "He's strong. Stronger than I thought."
Kenji leaned against the wall, arms crossed, pretending to look bored but failing to hide the fire in his eyes. "Guess that means it's my turn to shine, huh?"
"Don't overdo it," Renjiro warned. "The Divine Crucible eats confidence."
Kenji shrugged. "Yeah, well, it's about to get a taste of mine."
The speaker crackled above them.
"Next battle! For the third and final slot in the tournament—Kenji Kuroda, wielder of the Nature Shōin, versus Hayato Sumeragi, master of the Wind Shōin!"
Kenji straightened, a slow grin crossing his face. "That's me."
Ren clapped him on the shoulder. "You got this. Nature beats Wind, right?"
Renjiro shook his head. "Not always. Wind cuts. Don't let him dictate the pace."
Kenji smirked. "Then I'll make the wind chase me."
He stepped toward the corridor, the roar of the arena growing louder with each step.
For a moment he paused, fingers brushing the green stripes of his robe. This is it, huh… one chance to prove I belong next to them.
⸻
The gates opened, and sunlight poured in like a spotlight.
Kenji walked out, his heartbeat syncing with the chants. The sand of the coliseum crunched under his feet.
Across the arena stood Hayato Sumeragi—tall, calm, dressed in white and emerald, his hair whipping in the faint breeze already circling him. His eyes were sharp, but strangely gentle, like someone who didn't fight out of hate.
The commentator's voice boomed:
"The final challenger for the last three spots—Kenji Arata of the Nature Shōin!"
"And facing him, the Wind Prodigy—Hayato Sumeragi!"
The crowd erupted.
Hayato inclined his head slightly. "It's an honor, Kuroda. Don't take this lightly."
Kenji cracked his knuckles. "I never do."
Wind gathered around Hayato's arms, forming faint blades of compressed air.
Kenji crouched, vines flickering beneath his skin.
"Let the final battle… begin!"
The gong echoed, a single metallic note that sliced the noise in half.
Both moved at once.
Kenji dashed forward, green energy blooming around his legs—leaf-wings bursting from his back in a swirl of petals.
Hayato met him mid-field, swinging his arms. "Kaze no Yaiba!"
Invisible blades tore through the air. Kenji twisted aside, feeling one graze his shoulder, a sting of wind that drew blood.
He landed, sliding back, grinning. "So that's your edge, huh?"
Hayato's reply was swallowed by the gust that followed—"Tatsumaki Senpū!"—as a spiral of wind wrapped around him and shot forward.
Kenji planted his hand on the ground. Thick vines erupted upward, catching the gale and ripping apart. Leaves scattered like shrapnel.
He's fast, Kenji thought, but wind's useless if there's nothing left to cut.
He raised his hand; thorns burst from his fingers like bullets, streaking toward Hayato.
The wind user spun, the gusts forming a shield that shredded most of them mid-flight—but one thorn nicked his arm. A drop of blood fell to the sand.
Hayato's smile faded. "Impressive."
Kenji stood tall, green light flaring from his mark. "I'm just warming up."
⸻
Hayato's wind gathered again, circling him faster and faster until the arena floor began to crack beneath the pressure.
Kenji felt the air thin. He bent his knees, wings opening wider.
Alright, Renjiro… Ren… guess it's my turn to make the crowd scream.
He shot forward, leaving a green trail in his wake, the gusts swirling violently around both fighters.
Every movement now was a blur—thorn against blade, wind against leaf, nature against sky.
Then Hayato's aura shifted. The air turned sharp.
"Your wings won't save you," he said softly. "The higher the wind rises, the harsher the fall."
Kenji's grin never faltered. "Good thing I don't fall easy."
He crossed his arms, his mark glowing brighter. The vines around his wrists coiled like living serpents.
"Time to see how you handle a forest storm."
The sand shivered.
Kenji's aura flared, green light spiraling outward. Thin vines erupted from the ground, coiling into shapes—branches, leaves, thorns. The arena floor began to look like a garden born from chaos.
Hayato frowned, wind curling around him like a living storm.
"What is this?"
Kenji raised his hands. Then,he used it.
"Kibashira no Ran!"
The vines exploded upward, shooting thorned tendrils into the sky before spearing back down toward Hayato like a hundred whips.
"Tatsumaki Senpū!"
Hayato's wind spun into a tornado, shredding most of the vines before they reached him. The air filled with fragments of green light.
But Kenji wasn't aiming to hit.
He was shaping the battlefield.
Every shredded vine sank back into the sand, rerooting itself.
Perfect, Kenji thought. Let the wind cut—it only makes me grow faster.
He sprinted through the chaos, leaf-wings flaring behind him. Each beat of his wings kicked up bursts of dust and pollen that clouded Hayato's vision.
Hayato slashed the air—"Kaze no Yaiba!"—sending crescents of wind into the haze, but Kenji's outline blurred in and out of view.
Then a thorn shot past his cheek.
Followed by another.
And another.
Hayato ducked, rolled, but they kept coming from different angles, moving like they had a mind of their own.
He realized too late—the vines he'd cut earlier were still alive, each one carrying Kenji's will.
Kenji smirked, crouched behind a wall of twisting roots. "Nature doesn't die that easy!"
He raised both hands, the vines responding like a wave. They surged forward, grabbing Hayato's legs.
Hayato shouted, blasting wind downward to break free. The shockwave split the earth, throwing both fighters back.
Kenji hit the ground, rolled, and jumped to his feet again.
His chest was heaving now, sweat dripping down his face. He's strong… faster than the gust itself.
Across from him, Hayato stood still.
His expression wasn't angry—it was calm.
"You fight with heart. But heart alone doesn't tame the wind."
He closed his eyes.
The air pressure dropped.
Clouds swirled above the open roof of the coliseum, lightning-less but violent, a vortex of pure wind forming above him.
"Shin'en no Kaze!"
The world screamed.
Winds slammed outward in every direction, ripping apart the vines, tearing chunks from the arena floor. The audience gasped as the shockwave rattled the barrier walls.
Kenji threw up his arms, vines wrapping around him like armor.
The force still sent him skidding backward, boots digging deep into the sand.
I can't block this! He'll tear everything apart!
Renjiro's words echoed in his head.
"Don't let them dictate the pace."
Kenji gritted his teeth.
Right… this is my rhythm!
He let the wings on his back unfold completely—vibrant, emerald, glowing—and kicked off the ground. The gale lifted him high, but he angled himself against it, riding the current instead of fighting it.
Hayato's eyes widened. "You—!"
Kenji twisted midair, arms glowing bright green. "Then let's mix storms!"
He clapped his hands together. From the torn earth below, hundreds of thorned vines burst upward again, this time following his flight path. The wind caught them, spinning them into a cyclone of leaves and steel-sharp petals.
The two forces merged—wind and nature colliding until the boundary between them vanished.
Kenji dived straight through the vortex, wings slicing the air.
Hayato raised his arms to defend—but Kenji's vines wrapped around him in a spiral, dragging him into the storm.
"Kibashira no Ran!—Second Bloom!"
The arena erupted in green light.
When the wind finally calmed, the air was full of floating leaves. Hayato lay in the center, bound gently by vines, his aura flickering out.
Kenji hovered for a heartbeat longer, then dropped to his knees, wings fading into dust.
Silence.
Then the crowd roared—an explosion of sound that rolled through the coliseum like thunder over a forest.
The referee's voice trembled as he lifted his hand.
"Winner—Kenji Arata!"
Back in the locker room, Ren and Renjiro met him at the entrance.
Kenji stumbled in, still covered in scratches, grinning so wide it hurt.
Renjiro smirked. "You actually did it."
Kenji laughed, collapsing onto the bench. "Told you the wind would chase me."
Ren tossed him a towel. "Yeah, yeah, hero of the leaves. You're lucky he didn't blow you into next week."
Kenji leaned back, eyes half-closed.
We did it. All three of us made it.
He could still feel the hum of the crowd above, the pulse of victory, the whisper of leaves fading away.
But underneath it all… there was another sound.
A faint, distant chime—like a bell echoing from somewhere beyond the arena.
Renjiro heard it too.
He looked up, frowning. "You hear that?"
Kenji opened one eye. "Yeah… weird."
The chime grew louder for a moment, then stopped.
Only silence remained.
Outside, unseen by the crowd, a faint violet shimmer flickered above the coliseum dome—like a petal drifting in the wind before vanishing into nothing.