THE PAIN - Inazuma Eleven Go Fanfic

CHAPTER 61: DUSK OF CONFLICT

As the grand hall buzzed with life, the Celestial Gala had officially begun. The orchestra played a mesmerizing melody, each note cascading through the air like ripples in a serene lake. Laughter chimed like bells, blending harmoniously with the clinking of crystal glasses as guests engaged in animated conversation.

Waiters in immaculate uniforms glided effortlessly across the polished marble floor, silver trays in hand, offering an array of gourmet dishes and sparkling drinks. The hall itself was nothing short of breathtaking—the towering chandeliers bathed the space in a golden glow, their crystal pendants refracting the light like scattered stars. Cascading drapery of rich sapphire and ivory framed the towering windows, where beyond, the garden was bathed in the soft silver of the moon.

Despite the elegance surrounding them, Raimon found themselves at a loss for what to do. The grandiosity of the event was unlike anything they had ever experienced. Their Club Advisor, Haruna, had given them permission to explore the gala and enjoy the evening, yet they hesitated.

Shindou, Tsurugi, Sangoku, and Kirino gathered near one of the elegant pillars, their conversation hushed but filled with a quiet intensity.

"This feels unreal," Kirino murmured, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. "I don't think I've ever attended anything this extravagant before."

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around what just happened," Shindou admitted, swirling the drink in his glass absentmindedly. His mind kept replaying Arion's speech—his composure, his refined presence, the way he commanded the attention of the entire hall with practiced ease.

"Now what?" Kirino muttered, his brows furrowed as he crossed his arms. "I mean... what do we even do next?"

Tsurugi remained silent, arms crossed, his sharp gaze scanning the ballroom with an unreadable expression.

Noticing their striker's uncharacteristic stillness, Shindou, Sangoku, and Kirino followed his line of sight. Their eyes landed on Arion, who was effortlessly engaged in conversation with other students, his laughter light and genuine. He carried himself with a grace that felt strangely foreign—yet painfully familiar.

"I sometimes wonder why we keep insisting that he's Matsukaze Tenma," Tsurugi murmured at last, his voice laced with something between doubt and frustration.

Shindou exhaled, swirling the drink in his hand. "Maybe... we just miss Tenma," he admitted. "Seeing Arion personally, looking so much like him—it's hard not to be reminded."

The weight of Shindou's words settled between them, unspoken emotions threading through the quiet space they shared. The lavish music and distant chatter seemed to fade as they stood there, caught in the strange limbo between familiarity and uncertainty.

Kirino let out a quiet sigh, his fingers tightening slightly around the fabric of his sleeve. "But he's not Tenma," he murmured. "No matter how much he looks like him... no matter how much we want him to be."

Tsurugi's gaze darkened. "Then why does it feel like he should be?"

Sangoku, who had remained silent until now, shifted his stance. "Maybe because we never got closure," he said. "One day, Tenma was here, and the next... he was gone. No explanations. No goodbyes." His voice was steady, but there was a weight behind it—an old ache that hadn't dulled with time.

Shindou's grip on his glass tightened. The memories of that day still haunted him—the resignation letter, the abrupt disappearance, the questions that never received answers. And now, standing across the room, was someone who bore the same face yet felt like an entirely different person.

Arion, as he now called himself, had delivered his speech with the poise of someone who belonged here. His smile was effortless, his gestures refined, his very presence radiating a confidence Tenma had never possessed.