Magical Boy ~ English version

Chapter 127

Ichirō stood facing Kenji, his arrogant smile gleaming like a sharpened blade under the arena lights. The air, thick with adrenaline and the cheers of the crowd, only fueled his sense of invincibility. He was already relishing the thought of seeing his opponent bite the dust, crushed under his undeniable superiority. To him, this fight wasn't just another step in the tournament; it was the perfect stage to shine in front of Nanaya. He'll be watching, of course. How could he not notice me? Ichirō thought, overflowing with confidence. He wanted Nanaya to witness his power, to finally understand that he didn't need anyone else. That the only thing that mattered was him—Ichirō.

A flash of defiance in Kenji's eyes pulled Ichirō back to the present. It almost made him laugh. He actually thinks he stands a chance... Amused, Ichirō dismissed the thought. 

This fight was merely a formality, a demonstration, and he intended to leave nothing to chance. After all, Kenji's power was water—a common ability, bordering on laughable. Ichirō, however, possessed something unique, unmatched. Never had he encountered anyone else with his exceptional gift, and this only deepened his belief in his own specialness. His parents had never stopped telling him: he was extraordinary, a future hero whose name would be etched into history. The crowds chanting his name fed his inflated ego, and he had to admit, he loved it. But deep down, all of that was secondary. What he truly desired was the admiration of one person: Nanaya. Everything else was meaningless.

Ichirō cast a disdainful glance at Kenji, a mocking smirk curling his lips.
"So, ready to show me what water can do? I hope you know how to swim, because after this, you're going to drown in your own shame."

Kenji remained impassive, his hands relaxed at his sides. He had long since learned to ignore such provocations. But Ichirō, convinced he already had the upper hand, paid no attention.

Amaretto whistled to signal the start of the match. Wasting no time, Ichirō called upon his power. A spectral green light emanated from him, slithering forward to stop a few feet from Kenji. Kenji braced himself to block an attack, but instead, a figure began to materialize in front of him—a translucent, wavering, ghostly mirror image of himself.

Ichirō smirked. Let's see how it feels to fight yourself, he thought.

But what he didn't know—what he could never have guessed—was that it wasn't himself Kenji saw. It was his brother. Time seemed to freeze for Kenji. His breath hitched, and an icy terror gripped his body. His mind was dragged back to that fateful day. Screeching tires, the deafening crash, the blood... and Nao, his head crushed between the wall and the car, lying on the blood-streaked asphalt.

Kenji's legs gave out, and he fell to his knees. His chest heaved rapidly, his breath spiraling out of control. His hands trembled as he struggled in vain to anchor himself back to reality.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." he muttered, his voice breaking with sobs.
His breathing turned ragged, almost suffocating.
"Nao... forgive me... forgive me... it's my fault..."
His words devolved into desperate whispers, his anguish shattering the tense silence of the arena.

Ichirō watched the scene, baffled. It was just a clone, a harmless illusion... Why was Kenji reacting like this?

From the locker room, Nanaya, Rena, Mineko, and Kōtarō stared at the screen in horror.
"He thinks he's seeing his brother..." Mineko murmured, a trembling hand covering her mouth.

Nanaya didn't hesitate. He sprang to his feet.
"We have to go. Now."

The three friends rushed out of the locker room, pushing past others in the arena's crowded hallways—participants, their friends, and spectators heading to the restrooms.

Meanwhile, Amaretto approached Kenji, trying to calm him down. But Kenji's panicked cries only grew louder, his mind trapped in a relentless loop of terror.

In the audience, Kenji's mother leapt from her seat, her face contorted with anguish. She pushed her way through the crowd, her maternal instincts driving her straight toward the arena.

By the time Nanaya, Mineko, and Kōtarō arrived, they found Kenji collapsed, trembling, and Ichirō standing frozen, his expression one of growing unease. Without a word, Kōtarō delivered a powerful punch to Ichirō, causing him to stagger and breaking his connection to the spectral clone. The ghostly figure dissolved into shimmering light.

Nanaya immediately ran to Kenji's side, kneeling beside him and gently pulling him into his arms.
"Kenji-kun... it's me, Nanaya. I'm here..." he murmured softly.

Kenji clung to Nanaya like a lifeline, his fingers gripping his sports uniform as muffled sobs wracked his body.
"Nao... I'm sorry... it's my fault..." he choked out, tears streaming down his face.
"No, Kenji... it wasn't your fault. It was never your fault, okay?" Nanaya whispered, his voice soothing and tender.

He rocked Kenji gently, his hand running through the other's sweat-dampened hair, holding him with infinite care. Slowly, Kenji's sobs began to fade, replaced by shaky breaths as exhaustion overtook him. He fell asleep in Nanaya's embrace, cradled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Around them, the atmosphere buzzed with tension. Amaretto exchanged a worried glance with Kenji's mother, who knelt beside her son, murmuring reassurances.

Ichirō stood off to the side, watching with a growing mix of confusion and unease. This wasn't what he had intended. This wasn't how he'd envisioned his victory.

When the referee announced his win by Kenji's forfeit, a heavy silence fell over the arena. A smattering of hesitant applause came from a handful of his teachers and classmates, clearly uncomfortable but trying to avoid worsening the awkwardness. Most of the audience remained frozen, stunned by what they'd witnessed. Ichirō felt frustration knot in his stomach. This wasn't a victory. There was no glory, no admiration, only an oppressive void. Fuming, he turned and walked out of the arena without a word, his face set in a mask of cold indifference he struggled to maintain.

Meanwhile, Nanaya remained crouched beside Kenji, still holding him close and murmuring softly. Kōtarō approached gently.
"I'll carry him," he said simply.

Nanaya nodded. With care, Kōtarō lifted Kenji into his arms as if afraid his friend might break at the slightest jostle.

As they left the arena, Nanaya rose slowly, a fleeting wave of dizziness clouding his vision. His breath came shallow, his legs wobbling beneath him, but he gritted his teeth and steadied himself.

Everyone's focus was on Kenji, and that was all that mattered. Discreetly, he rested a hand on Kōtarō's arm for support, forcing his face to remain calm despite his growing concern for Kenji.

In the locker room, Ichirō sat on a bench, his hands trembling with rage. The scene replayed in his mind on an endless loop. No cheers, no applause, not even a single admiring glance from Nanaya. Only that oppressive silence and that look—one that seemed to loathe him as much as he'd hoped to impress.

In the neighboring locker room, Nanaya continued to murmur to Kenji, cradling him with care. Rena and Mineko stayed quietly nearby, their eyes glimmering with genuine concern.

Lowering his gaze, Nanaya ignored the throbbing pain in his head. It was nothing. Probably just the connections of his prosthetic acting up again.

(Kenji's fanart by exhosionn)