I stepped off the arena floor to thunderous applause, my ears still ringing from the chaos of battle. The corridor leading back to our prep area felt cool and quiet compared to the electrical storm that had just consumed the main stadium.

"Twenty-minute break before the next event," Braxton announced, leaning against the wall with his usual half-bored, half-amused expression. His eyes tracked each of us as we filed in, taking stock of injuries. "Anyone need immediate medical attention, or can you all just walk it off like the stubborn bastards I know you are?"

"I’m fine," I said automatically, despite the stabbing pain in my ribs that suggested at least two were cracked.

Natalia scoffed next to me. "You’re not fine. Your ribs look like they’re trying to rearrange themselves into a modern art installation."

"Poetic. Maybe you should write greeting cards when this whole Hunter thing doesn’t work out."

She punched my shoulder, which somehow made my ribs hurt even more. "Shut up and sit down. Emi needs to look at you before the next round."

I followed her order, mostly because arguing with Natalia when she got that particular gleam in her eye was about as productive as trying to swim through concrete. She steered me to a bench along the wall, practically shoving me onto it.

The prep room buzzed with post-victory energy. Raphael was shadowboxing in the corner, his knuckles still bloody but his grin maniacal. Hikari swung her flail in lazy circles, recounting her takedown of a particularly annoying Sentinel to anyone who would listen. Juan had already stretched out on another bench, his eyes closed, cards shuffling between his fingers like he was trying to calm himself through repetitive motion.

Braxton moved among them, checking injuries and offering what passed for encouragement from him—which mostly consisted of "That was almost not embarrassing" and "Maybe try not dying next time."

Natalia hovered over me like an anxious, extremely attractive hawk as Emi made her way toward us. Her blue hair was coming loose from its braids, and her healing aura pulsed around her hands like a gentle heartbeat.

"How bad is it?" she asked, kneeling in front of me.

"It’s not—"

"He took a direct hit from Reyna to the ribs," Natalia cut in. "Plus whatever Julian did to him, plus absorbing enough electricity to power a small city."

Emi’s eyes widened. "You absorbed all that lightning? That’s... Satori, that’s not what your Aspect is supposed to do."

"Maybe I’m just special," I winked.

"Maybe you’re just an idiot," Natalia muttered.

"The two aren’t mutually exclusive," I said.

Emi placed her hands gently on my ribs, and I hissed through my teeth. Her healing aura spread from her fingers, seeping through my shirt and into my skin. The sensation was strange—like cool water flowing through overheated muscles, soothing inflammation and knitting bone.

"Three fractures," Emi said, her voice taking on the professional tone she used when in healer mode. "One’s almost a complete break. What were you thinking, taking hits like that?"

"I was thinking I needed to win."

"You need to stay alive to win," she countered.

"Details."

Natalia made a strangled sound that might have been frustration. "This is what I have to deal with. This... this suicidal overconfidence."

"You love it."

"I tolerate it," she corrected, but the corner of her mouth twitched.

Skylar appeared silently beside us, her knives already cleaned and resheathed. "What did you say to Julian?" I asked her. "I’ve never seen someone go from tactical to homicidal that fast."

A slow, dangerous smile spread across Skylar’s face. "I simply suggested that his mother might be interested to hear about certain activities he participated in during last year’s spring formal."

"That’s it?"

"Oh, and I may have mentioned that I know exactly what’s hidden in the false bottom of his desk drawer."

I whistled. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

"Too late," she said sweetly, patting my cheek before drifting away to check on Juan.

Emi’s healing continued to work its magic on my ribs. The sharp pain faded to a dull ache, then to a strange tightness, like my body was being rewoven from the inside out. I watched her face as she worked—the slight furrow between her brows, the way she bit her bottom lip in concentration, the small beads of sweat forming at her hairline.

I could feel the slight tremble in Emi’s hands as she worked, though whether it was from the energy drain or simple concentration, I couldn’t tell. The pale green glow of her Aspect pulsed rhythmically, washing over my injuries in waves that felt like cool water against burnt skin.

"You should rest after this," she murmured without looking up from her work. Her fingers traced the edges of the bandage she’d applied, making sure it sat properly against my skin. "Healing takes energy from both of us, and you’ll need yours for the next event. I can feel how depleted you are."

"Yes, doctor," I said, gentler than I meant to. Something about watching her fuss over me made it hard to maintain my usual edge.

Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, and I caught the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "That’s ’yes, Emi-sama’ to you, patient."

I choked on a surprised laugh, the sound rough in my throat. "Where the hell did you learn to talk like that?"

"Akari’s been giving me confidence lessons," she admitted, and the faint pink that crept across her cheeks made her look younger somehow, despite the sweat beading on her forehead from the exertion of healing. "She says I’m too nice for my own good."

"Now that’s terrifying," I said, imagining Emi wielding Akari’s brand of shameless manipulation. "Please tell me you’re not taking notes from her playbook."

"Only the good parts," Emi promised, but the mischievous glint in her eye suggested I should be worried.

The door to our prep area banged open hard enough to rattle in its frame, and as if summoned by my very thoughts, Akari sauntered in with Hikari trailing in her wake like a particularly dangerous shadow. They’d been relegated to watching from the competitor’s box since they weren’t part of the first event team, but Akari looked completely unbothered by her spectator status. Her chains clinked softly with each measured step, a sound I was beginning to associate with trouble. Those golden eyes of hers swept the room with the practiced ease of someone cataloging everything—exits, weaknesses, opportunities—before finally settling on me with clear interest.

"Nice job not dying," she said, her tone all casual praise as she dropped onto the bench beside me with the kind of easy confidence that suggested she belonged wherever she chose to sit. The movement was smooth, deliberate, close enough that our shoulders nearly touched. "Though that lightning trick at the end was definitely showing off."

"Says the girl who literally binds people in chains for a living," I shot back.

"Only the lucky ones," she purred, leaning close enough that I caught a whiff of her perfume—something floral and spicy that probably cost more than my monthly allowance. Hell, it probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. The scent was designed to linger, to make an impression, and judging by the way she watched my reaction, she knew exactly what she was doing.

I felt the shift in the air before I registered what it meant. The temperature beside me dropped, not metaphorically but literally—actual, measurable degrees that raised goosebumps on my skin where Emi’s healing warmth didn’t reach. Frost started forming in tiny crystalline patterns on the metal bench between us.

"Akari," Natalia said, and her voice could have frozen the desert. Each syllable was clipped, controlled, dangerous in the way a sheathed blade is dangerous. "Don’t you have somewhere else to be?"

"Right here seems pretty perfect," Akari replied, completely unfazed by the cold front forming beside me. She stretched languidly, her uniform top riding up to reveal a strip of tanned skin that drew eyes whether she intended it to or not. "Unless Satori wants me somewhere else?"

The question hung in the air, loaded with implications I chose to ignore for the sake of my continued survival.

Before I could answer, Celeste appeared in the doorway, her silver-white hair immaculate despite the chaos outside. Her eyes took in the tableau—me on the bench, Emi kneeling before me with medical supplies, Akari pressed against my side like a particularly affectionate cat, and Natalia radiating enough cold to form frost on nearby metal.

"Am I interrupting something?" she asked, one perfect eyebrow raised in that way that suggested she already knew the answer.

"Yes," said Akari, not bothering to hide her amusement.

"No," said Natalia and Emi simultaneously, their voices overlapping.

"Just some post-battle patching up," I said, trying to sound casual while internally wondering how my life had turned into a comedy sketch. "How’s the crowd?"

Celeste crossed the room with that graceful, measured walk that made her look like she was floating. "Going absolutely insane. You’re trending globally. The VHC public relations team is having a collective breakdown."

"Over what? We won fair and square."

"Over the fact that you absorbed enough electricity to kill a small herd of elephants and then blew a kiss to the camera," she said dryly, her periwinkle eyes holding a hint of exasperation. "My sister is probably having an aneurysm in her private box."

"Good," I grinned. "Consider it a gift."

Celeste shook her head, but I caught the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "You’re impossible."

"That seems to be the consensus."

Emi’s hands finally left my ribs, her healing glow fading. "That’s the best I can do for now. They’re stable, but not fully healed. No direct hits to the torso in the next event, or I’m pulling you out myself."

"Yes, ma’am," I said, giving her a mock salute.