The two boys hailed as the strongest were gritting their teeth in fury, their cheeks taut as two wrung-out towels, their fists clenched until their knuckles turned white. The red mark was still stamped on Satoru Gojo's jaw, and the blood at the corner of his mouth had dried.
Suguru Geto climbed off the ground, grass clippings and dirt clinging to his knees. His bangs hid half his face, but they could not hide the tight line of muscle in his cheek as he clenched his teeth. They wanted to charge forward, to try again, to wrest back from this man everything they had lost in those five minutes.
Satoru Gojo formed another Blue in his palm. His eyes were fixed on Kashimo, the blue in his pupils so deep it seemed about to spill over. His fingers curled slightly, ready to strike.
Just then, a voice cut across from the edge of the field.
"Hey! You three, stop!"
Masamichi Yaga's voice was not loud, but it landed like a stone dropped from a height, striking the field and everyone's eardrums.
The Blue in Satoru Gojo's palm trembled. It did not disperse, but it stopped growing. Suguru Geto froze with his shoulders raised, poised to charge, like a statue someone had paused. Kashimo lowered his beckoning finger, slipped his hand into his pocket, and turned to glance toward the edge of the field.
Masamichi Yaga stood there with his arms crossed. Behind his sunglasses, his gaze swept over their faces one by one before settling on the ravaged field: torn-up turf, cracked ground, trenches gouged out by Blue, and the huge crater left by Rainbow Dragon. Stones and debris lay everywhere. The entire field looked like a stretch of wasteland that had been plowed over.
He took several deep breaths,