Luke was practically vibrating. He kept checking his wrist every five seconds, then looking at Sora's, then checking his again.
"Sora! Sora, look! It's still a seven! What if it changes? What if it's a trick? Lal looked like the kind of guy who uses trick ink!" Luke was paced in a tight circle, his hands flying around as he talked. "We need a third. A strong third. Someone who can handle... you know... the vibe."
Sora sighed, his hands buried deep in his pockets, looking like he was waiting for a bus rather than a life-altering ordeal. "Luke. The ink isn't moving. Your brain is. Just breathe."
"I can't breathe! I'm too busy calculating the statistical probability of us finding another seven before the 'disqualification' timer hits zero!" Luke suddenly grabbed the shoulders of a passing student. "ARE YOU A SEVEN?!"
"I'm a twelve! Let go of me!" the student yelped, scurrying away.
Sora reached out, grabbed the back of Luke's collar, and hauled him back. "Stop harassing the locals. Look over there."
The Ice Queen
Leaning against a jagged stone pillar, away from the screaming matches, was a girl with short, silver-blue hair. She was holding a small, glowing shard of ice, idly spinning it between her fingers. She looked bored—the kind of bored that was actually dangerous.
Luke's eyes turned into literal sparkles. "She's perfect! She looks like a main character! Sora, look at the hair! That's 'Top Tier' hair!"
Before Sora could stop him, Luke skidded across the stone, stopping just inches from her face. "GREETINGS, FELLOW SEVEN! I am Luke! This is Sora! He's the boring one, but I have enough personality for all three of us!"
He shoved his wrist toward her face.
The girl didn't flinch. She didn't even blink. She just tilted her own wrist. A teal "7" shimmered.
"Great," Luke cheered, punching the air. "We're a team! A triad! The Three Musketeers! The Triple Threats! I'll be the leader, obviously, and—"
"No," she said. Her voice was like a glass bell—clear, but cold.
Luke froze mid-pose. "No? To which part? The leader part? We can negotiate! I'm very flexible!"
She finally looked at them. Her gaze swept over Luke's messy hair and frantic energy, then moved to Sora's calm, almost sleepy expression.
"I saw you two in the hallway," she said flatly. "You were screaming because a pillow wasn't 'ergonomic' enough. One of you is a hyperactive child, and the other..." she glanced at Sora, "...seems to have given up on life entirely."
She hopped down from her ledge. "I'm not failing this ordeal because I'm tethered to a circus act."
"A circus act?!" Luke looked at Sora, wounded. "Sora, tell her I'm a professional! Tell her about my tactical neck alignment strategy!"
Sora just looked at the girl and gave a small, tired nod. "He's a lot. But he's fast. And I'm good at making sure he doesn't run off a cliff. I'm Sora. That's Luke. You are?"
"Mina," she said, already turning to walk away. "And I'll find another Seven. One that doesn't come with... vibrations."
"Wait! Mina! Don't leave us!" Luke scrambled after her, but with a flick of her wrist, the ground beneath his boots turned to frictionless ice.
"WHOA—!" Luke's legs went north while his head went south. He did a full 360-degree spin in the air before landing flat on his face with a muffled thud.
Sora didn't move. He just looked down at the shivering, face-down Luke. "Smooth, buddy."
Mina kept walking. "Skill issue."
Luke lay face-down on the patch of ice, his white hair fanned out like a discarded mop. He let out a long, muffled groan against the cold stone.
"I think... my soul just left through my nose," he mumbled.
Mina didn't even pause. She was already ten paces away, her silver-blue hair shimmering under the arena's glowing sigils. To her, Luke wasn't a teammate; he was a liability with a loud mouth.
Sora watched her go, his expression unchanging. He didn't rush. He didn't shout. He just stepped over Luke's twitching body and started walking at a steady, leisurely pace.
"Hey," Sora called out. It wasn't a yell, but his voice had a grounded resonance that cut through the noise of the surrounding chaos.
Mina stopped. She didn't turn around. "I told you. I'm looking for a different Seven. One that doesn't fall over his own feet."
Sora caught up, stopping a respectful distance away. He leaned against a nearby stone pillar, crossing his arms. "You can look. But the timer is at forty minutes. Most of the 'sane' Sevens have already grouped up. Anyone left is either a bottom-tier straggler or a desperate solo act."
He gestured vaguely back at the sprawling arena. "The guys over there? They're already forming a strategy . They aren't looking for partners; they're looking to eliminate the competition before the trial even starts."
Mina finally turned, her eyes narrowed. "And you think staying with a clown and a slacker is a better tactical move?"
"Luke's a clown," Sora admitted easily, ignoring Luke's offended "Hey!" from the background. "But he's a clown with enough raw energy to fight.
Sora met her gaze directly. For a second, the 'lazy' mask slipped, and Mina saw something sharp—something steady—underneath. "You've got the power to freeze the ground under a moving target without even looking. You're precise. He is chaotic. On paper, it's a mess. In a fight? It's a nightmare to predict."
Mina stayed silent, the ice shard in her hand spinning faster.
"Forty minutes, Mina," Sora said, his voice dropping to a calm, deadpan tone. "You can keep walking and hope for a miracle, or you can take the two idiots who are already standing right here."
A few yards away, Luke had finally managed to stand up, though he was currently trying to wipe ice shavings off his face with his sleeve. "I also have snacks!" he shouted hopefully. "I packed crackers!"
Mina stared at Luke. Then she looked back at Sora. She let out a long, frosty sigh that puffed into a mist in the air.
"If he trips and hits me," she said, her voice like cracking ice, "I am freezing him into a permanent statue. Am I clear?"
Sora gave thumbs-up. "Crystal."
Team 7: Assembled
They aren't exactly the "Dream Team" yet, but they have their numbers. As they stand together, the heavy gates at the end of the Training Grounds begin to groan open.