High Platform

After the outcome of the third round was decided, the lively atmosphere in the field rose another notch.

The winning Small Groups gathered to high-five one another, while the losing groups laughed as they patted the snow from each other's shoulders, shouting, "We'll get you next time!"

The organizer stepped into the middle of the field, cleared his throat, and announced through a loudspeaker that there would be more games to come. Before he could finish, however, his words were half-drowned out by the crowd's waves of cheering.

Kazehara Tetsu had no intention of joining in again.

He retreated to the edge of the field and leaned against the inn's outer wall, slipping both hands back into his coat pockets as he watched the crowd.

It was nice enough just watching everyone play. That amount of effort was enough for one round.

Someone in the crowd waved and called for him to come over, but he shook his head and stayed put.

The organizer's voice still drifted over intermittently, seeming to explain what the next round would involve.

But before he could finish, something suddenly drifted down from the sky.

A snowflake.

A tiny one, spiraling down onto the shoulder of someone in the crowd. Then came a second, a third, falling sporadically.

The crowd fell quiet for a moment, and then someone looked up at the sky.

The snowfall grew thicker, changing from scattered flakes into a swirling flurry, one flake after another falling from above.

In less than a few minutes, the open space had been covered in a fresh layer of snow, and the snow that landed on the ground quickly began to pile up.

The white vapor of people's breaths mingled with the snowflakes and spread before their eyes, blurring their vision.

"The snow's getting heavier!"