**Tokyo – Grand International Stadium, Tournament Day – Afternoon**
The stadium was a living colossus—steel and glass rising high above Tokyo's skyline, packed with over 80,000 screaming spectators. Floodlights blazed like artificial suns, turning night into day. Banners snapped in the wind—flags of every nation, Paras City's blue-and-silver kite symbol flying highest among them. The air thrummed with drums, cheers, and the electric buzz of anticipation. Vendors shouted over the noise, selling glowing energy drinks, flashing tournament pins, and miniature replicas of fighter weapons. Giant screens circled the arena, replaying highlights from qualifiers—blades clashing, flames roaring, crowds erupting in waves.
The energy was raw—hope, fear, pride, greed—all colliding in one massive heartbeat.
In the VIP box high above the field—glass-fronted, soundproofed—President Blu sat in the center seat, arms folded, cape draped over the chair back. Guards stood discreetly behind him—silent, watchful. His glowing blue eyes scanned the arena—calm on the surface, but a faint tension pulled at the corners of his mouth. He had bet the future of Paras City on this tournament. On Astra. On one small boy carrying the weight of a billion dollars and a city's pride.
Below him—in the special family section—Yuki sat between Wano and Uraka (in human form). She was dressed simply: black jacket, jeans, dark sunglasses hiding her crimson eye. She looked stronger than last week—color back in her cheeks, posture straighter—but her hands were clenched in her lap, knuckles white. She was terrified—deeply, quietly terrified. Every cheer from the crowd felt like a knife twisting in her chest.
Yuki—voice low, trembling, barely audible over the roar.
"I hope Blu decided Astra as fighter after thinking twice… Don't give up, Astra… don't get injured."
Wano—gentle, squeezing her hand tightly.
"Don't be sad, Yuki… Blu is a really good person. He must have thought something—that's why he did it. He wouldn't risk Astra if he didn't believe in him."
Uraka leaned closer—pink hair falling over one shoulder, crimson eyes soft but fierce.
"Yuki sister… believe in him. I trained him too. He's stronger than you think. He's got Sai's technique in him, Blu's discipline, my prediction tricks… and most of all—he's got you. He's fighting for you."
Yuki—finally, a small smile broke through the fear, fragile but real.
She lowered her head—whispered inside her mind, sad and aching, voice cracking even in thought.
*After this all ends… please Hono-kun return… for me. For Astra. For all of us. I can't keep losing people I love…*
The announcer's voice boomed across the stadium—mic crackling with energy, echoing off the walls.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Grand International Power Tournament! This isn't just any fight—powerful contestants from every country are here! And the reward is 1 BILLION DOLLARS!"
The crowd roared—shaking the stands, drums pounding like war.
The announcer pointed upward—with dramatic flair.
"And today we have the honor of hosting President Blu! Leader of Paras City, Japan! Known worldwide for his cleanliness, superior martial arts, unmatched strategies, and visionary politics!"
Cameras and spotlights panned to Blu.
Blu turned his head slightly—nothing else. No wave. No smile. Just calm acknowledgment. The crowd cheered louder—his name echoing like thunder.
The announcer swept his arm across the VIP boxes—voice rising, almost reverent.
"And we have many world leaders and authorities here today! Each one a titan in their own right!"
First—John from London.
Camera zoomed in tight.
John—tall, impeccably tailored charcoal suit, silver cufflinks flashing, tie knotted with military precision. He adjusted his tie slowly, deliberately, eyes cold and calculating—steel-gray, like a predator sizing up prey. A faint smirk played on his lips, the kind that said he had already won before the first punch landed. His posture was perfect—shoulders squared, chin high—exuding the arrogance of someone who had never lost a war, political or otherwise. The crowd murmured—some cheered, some hissed. London's symbol—a roaring lion—flashed behind him on the screen.
Next—Mairun from Colombo.
Mairun—dark hair pulled into a tight, severe ponytail, eyes sharp and manipulative, terrifyingly calm. Her fingers drummed slowly on the armrest—each tap measured, like counting down to something inevitable. She wore deep crimson silk, gold jewelry glinting like warning signs. Her gaze swept the arena—not looking at anyone in particular, but everyone felt watched. The air around her seemed heavier, colder. Whispers spread through the stands—Sri Lanka's queen of shadows, they called her. A serpent coiled around a lotus appeared behind her on the screen—beautiful, venomous.
Then—Dabura from Hong Kong.
Dabura—sitting perfectly still, arms crossed, face composed, almost serene—dangerous serenity that made the air feel colder. Black suit, no tie, top button undone—casual power. His eyes were half-lidded, dark, unreadable—like staring into an abyss that stared back. No smile. No movement. Just presence. The crowd quieted slightly when the camera lingered on him—Hong Kong's silent emperor, they whispered. A black dragon coiled around a red sun glowed behind him on the screen—ancient, unstoppable.
Next—Lappa from Jakarta.
Lappa—smiling wide, like he already planned every outcome, eyes glinting with hidden schemes. Bright green suit—bold, almost garish—gold chains, rings on every finger. He leaned back, legs crossed, tapping a rhythm on his knee—confident, theatrical. His smile never reached his eyes—predatory, hungry. The crowd cheered him—Indonesia's trickster king, they called him. A golden tiger with emerald eyes flashed behind him—cunning, ruthless.
Finally—Triel from Rome.
Triel—sipping tea slowly, elegant, detached, not even glancing at the camera—cool indifference that felt like a weapon all its own. White silk dress, silver hair pinned elegantly, posture regal. Her teacup was delicate porcelain—gold rimmed. She lifted it to her lips—slow, deliberate—like the fight below was beneath her notice. The crowd gave a respectful hush—Italy's untouchable queen. A white eagle clutching lightning appeared behind her on the screen—majestic, merciless.
Blu observed them all—narrowed his eyes, whispered to himself, voice barely audible.
"Astra… our future depends today on your performance… Even I took a risk from Yuki for the future of Paras City. I trained you. Uraka trained you. Even Sai trained you before… This isn't just about winning. It's about the pride of Paras City and all of Japan… and surviving these vultures."
Yuki—watching the screen—clutched Wano's hand tighter, voice small.
"They all look… dangerous. Like they're here for more than money."
Uraka—serious, tense.
"They are. This tournament isn't just a fight. It's politics. Power. Territory."
Wano—quiet.
"And Astra is in the middle of it."
Yuki—whispering, terrified.
"I just want him safe…"
The announcer—voice booming again.
"So the first contestant is Izuko from Dabura's side!"
From the stadium gates—Izuko emerged.
A four-armed being with fused ice aura, white fur rippling, eyes glowing blue. He slammed all four hands on the ground—ice spreading in jagged spikes across the arena floor, frost crackling in the air.
Izuko—curvy, cruel smile, voice echoing.
"I am… I am winning thisss!"
Dabura smiled—calm, proud.
"That's our warrior."
People clapped—loud, excited.
The announcer—pointing opposite.
"And from the other side—his rival is Kash from Triel's side!"
Door opened—small sand wind swirled.
A figure made of sand emerged—body shifting, eyes glowing gold.
Kash cracked his knuckles—voice dry, mocking.
"This fight is going to be dry."
Triel smirked—barely, tea cup still in hand.
"A warrior trained by me… must be powerful."
Stadium filled with claps—tension rising like a wave.
Izuko and Kash locked eyes—moment of silence stretched taut.
The announcer—excited, almost shouting.
"Okay… I'm going up on the stage… because the fight is about to start!"
Izuko gave a creepily wide smile—ice aura flaring brighter.
"Well? Ready for the bone crush?"
Kash—dry, unamused.
"You should think about yourself, brat."
Izuko raised one leg slowly—then started walking forward, ice trailing behind him like a frozen wake.
Kash dashed—sand swirling violently.
**First Clash!**
Kash changed his body into spikes—threw himself at Izuko like a living spear.
Izuko grabbed his head with four fingers—stomped him into the ground—ice spreading fast, freezing Kash's legs solid.
Kash split himself in half—threw sand knives from his body.
Izuko dodged every knife—but one stabbed deep into his hand.
Blue blood dripped—glowing.
Izuko blinked—held his arm, pain flashing across his face for one second.
Kash jumped—created his hand as hammer—landed it on Izuko's head.
Izuko fell—ice cracking beneath him.
Dabura—calm, cold.
"Idiot… fight properly."
Izuko snapped open his eyes—jumped.
Slammed four arms down—ice pillars erupting outward.
Kash turned to dust—hit Izuko from all sides.
Izuko clapped his hands—chunk of ice erupted, freezing the arena floor.
Kash dodged—smashed his leg down.
Izuko froze him—punched faster, relentless.
Ice chunk broke—Kash reformed, laughing dryly.
Kash—mocking.
"Meh… not a strong attack."
Izuko roared—muscles rising, ice aura exploding.
"Time for a reality check!"
He snapped his finger—shot an arrow of ice burst.
It hit Kash—froze him completely.
Kash couldn't move—vessels inside frozen temporarily.
Izuko jumped—landed ice strikes—combo brutal, ice shards flying.
Yuki—watching from the box—noticed something.
"Wait… they aren't fighting by themselves with full force. Their leaders manipulated them, I think."
Wano—sweating, serious.
"I think the same too… they're using them. How bad is it."
Uraka—quiet, furious.
"This is more than a tournament. It's politics. Power. Territory."
Blu sighed—eyes narrowed.
**Extended Fight – Battleground**
Izuko continued his combo—really injuring Kash.
Kash weakened—about to do something desperate.
Izuko slapped his head—hard.
Kash fell—split into five pieces—attacked with full force!
Izuko created ice pillars—reflected all attacks easily.
Izuko—laughing cruelly.
"Hah… you think those small attacks can hurt me? Try harder."
Izuko sprinted—punched Kash's abdomen.
Kash reshaped—hole where fist landed.
From edges—spikes hit Izuko's muscles.
**Crack!**
Spikes went through—bleeding blue.
Izuko roared—eyes dulling with pain.
He turned—landed a massive slap.
Kash hit the stadium wall—boom sound shaking the stands.
Fell to the ground—sand scattering.
People cheered Izuko—wild.
A spectator—excited.
"Look… how they are fighting! It's actually very exciting!"
Izuko stomped—ran like a bull, ice trailing.
Kash entered the ground—came up from far, reforming.
Izuko stopped—grinning.
"Oh, you trying to run? You think it's really possible!?"
Kash bit his hand—hand growing bigger, sand swirling violently.
Kash—voice booming.
"Ready for my wrath!"
His hand became giant—stomped and held Izuko tight.
Izuko—shocked.
"What's that!?"
Kash started slamming him on the ground—again and again.
Izuko used full force—broke the hand apart.
Sand particles floated—beautiful and deadly.
Kash stood—eyes glowing gold.
"Dimensional expansion: Wrath of Sand."
He combined his hands—raised upward.
Izuko charged—punch ready.
Suddenly—he froze.
Many strong spikes hit him—going through arms, legs, torso.
Izuko bled—eyes shrinking in pain.
Kash laughed—voice echoing.
The ground shook—massive four sand pillars erupted—surrounded by sand chains.
Kash—voice thundering.
"This is my domain! Here… if you move, sand dust will hurt you with force!"
Blu—from the box—narrowed his eyes.
Yuki—shocked, standing up.
"Wait… this is Sensei Sai's technique… something like pocket dimension or barrierless dimension…"
Uraka—serious, tense.
"This is a true powerful domain I've ever seen."
Dabura smirked—calm.
"This isn't the end yet."
Suddenly—Izuko moved—stood behind Kash.
His speed was invisible—even to Kash.
Kash—shocked—turned.
Izuko raised his hand—without looking—shot a crystal sword.
It hit Kash's core—sand body cracking.
Kash froze—one second.
Izuko grabbed his head—ripped it off.
Blood fountain erupted—sand and red mixing.
Izuko wiped blood from his lips—calm, victorious.
"It was a good fight for me."
Dabura smiled—proud, cold.
"As expected. You never disappoint."
Yuki—shocked, horrified, standing fully now.
"Wait… is killing allowed in the tournament!!???"
Wano—pale, gripping the railing.
"We didn't even know about it!"
Uraka—quiet, furious.
"They're hiding the real rules…"
The announcer ran to the field—grabbed Izuko's hand—raised it high.
"So the winner of this fight is Izukoooo!!!"
Everybody clapped—loud, wild, bloodthirsty.
But Yuki stood frozen—hands shaking, tears in her crimson eye.
"No… no… if killing is allowed… Astra…"
She clutched the railing—whispering, voice breaking.
"Astra… please… be safe."
The stadium lights flared—crowd still cheering.
The next gate opened—waiting for the next fight.
And Yuki's heart pounded—terrified.
For her little brother.