"Captain Graham!"
The voice rose above the crowd, clear and professional, yet edged with urgency. Roy turned instinctively, and so did Kieran.
A young woman in scholar robes approached, weaving through the spectators. Her stride was sharp and trained—every bit the soldier of the Celestial Watch. She carried herself with discipline, but there was something familiar in the way her eyes scanned the group.
"Captain Graham," she repeated, stopping at his side. She gave him a small bow of respect, her tone brisk. "The ushers need to confirm your booth placement. I was sent to make sure you're escorted properly."
Graham smiled faintly, adjusting his spectacles. "Ever diligent," he said warmly. "Thank you."
But the moment her gaze flicked away from Graham and toward the group standing near him, her composure faltered. Her eyes landed on Kieran.
Her breath caught. The firmness in her shoulders slackened as though a weight had suddenly shifted.
"…Kieran?"
The name slipped out before she could stop herself.
Kieran froze. He hadn't recognised her at first—the uniform, the sternness, and the years had changed her—but the voice pierced straight through him. His heart jolted painfully, his chest tightening. Slowly, almost unwillingly, his eyes locked on hers.
"…Aarti?" His voice cracked on the name.
The Colosseum's roar seemed to fade, all the banners and cheers dissolving into a void of silence around them.
They stared at each other, siblings torn apart by time, decisions, and pride. He'd thought about this moment for years—what he'd say, how he'd defend himself, and how angry he'd be. But standing here, seeing her face again, every practised word slipped from him like smoke.
"…It's really you," Aarti whispered, her hand trembling at her side.
"…Yeah." Kieran swallowed hard, his throat tight. "It's me."
"…It's been a while," she said softly, her voice trembling at the edges.
"…Yeah." Kieran's reply was barely above a whisper, his throat dry. "It has."
The silence between them grew heavier, loaded with questions neither dared to voice in front of the crowd.
Roy glanced between them, eyes narrowing. Brock and Tanaka exchanged confused looks, while Graham simply watched, his kind smile never wavering.
Finally, Kieran forced himself to speak. "…We should talk. Later. Just us. meet at the train station?"
Aarti nodded quickly, blinking back unshed tears. "Yeah. We should."
For a second, just a second, something softened in Kieran's eyes. Then the Colosseum roared to life as the opening ceremony began, pulling the moment apart.
Roy's gaze lingered on Graham, who watched the siblings with an unreadable calm. He leaned ever so slightly toward Roy, his words pitched low, almost lost to the noise.
"Enjoy the tournament, Roy Shyam. After all…" His eyes gleamed, not with menace, but with a strange certainty, as though he saw further than anyone else. "…every stage needs its players."
And just like that, Graham stepped back into the crowd, vanishing into the sea of faces as though he had never been there at all.
Roy exhaled slowly, unease gnawing at him. The cheers of the Colosseum swelled, banners rippled overhead, and the games were about to begin—yet all he could hear was the echo of Graham's words.