By the time the individual matches ended, it was already past three in the afternoon.
The sun had shifted slightly west of overhead. Staff had cleared the rubble and wreckage from the fighting platform and redrawn the white boundary lines, restoring the arena to its original tidiness. The spectators gradually dispersed, and the students from both schools returned to their respective lounges.
When Zhiyan and the others entered the lounge, Shirakawa and Yaga were already waiting inside.
Principal Shirakawa sat on the sofa at the head of the room, a cup of tea in his hand and a warm smile on his face. Yaga sat beside him, his back ramrod straight. His expression was as stern as ever, but a trace of pride shone through his eyes.
"You're back?" Shirakawa set down his teacup and swept his gaze over them.
Satoru Gojo charged in first, dropped onto the sofa, crossed his legs, and leaned back, sprawling into a heap.
"I'm exhausted, absolutely exhausted-"
Zhiyan entered behind him and led Shoko over to sit beside him. Suguru Geto and Xian Di each found a seat as well. Wana pulled Utahime onto the sofa on the other side.
As Shirakawa looked at them, his smile deepened.
"Thank you for your hard work, everyone." His voice was gentle yet firm, carrying the kindness particular to an elder. "As your principal, I'm very proud of the excellent results you achieved in the individual matches."
Satoru Gojo's tail-if he had one-would probably have been sticking straight up into the sky. He sprang off the sofa, planted his hands on his hips, and lifted his chin, his nose in the air.
"Of course, old man!" His voice shook the entire lounge. "We're the strongest!"
The moment the words left his mouth, the air in the lounge