~Chapter 17- A trade~

Jirro watched Hita's match closely to help him against Efilon. Going for a ring out against him would've been useless. Being the aggressor would've only wasted his energy. But he noticed a crucial flaw in Efilon. Whenever he attacked, he did so with such confidence that he left openings. Small ones, hardly detectable by most, but openings that he could exploit. He didn't expect him to create a massive Focus orb, but he figured out a way to beat it.

Efilon didn't consider anyone besides Aero to be worth his time, and that was why he lost.

Up until now all the competitors had been very respectful and sportsmanlike. But Efilon was fuming with anger at his loss. But there was a sadness there too. He hid his face, but it almost looked as if Efilon would cry.

"We will allow our two final combatants, Aero and Jirro, a moment of rest before we begin the final bout of the tournament!" Cho announced exuberantly.

Aero stopped the Masked One as he entered the finalist's lobby, "Are you going to hold up your side of the deal?"

The masked boy looked at Aero, his green eyes were grim, devoid of hope. He reached around in his pockets, pulled out a series of orbs and handed them to Aero before sauntering out of the finalist's lobby without a word.

"What was that about?" Jirro asked.

"Efilon and I made a deal before the tournament," Aero explained, pulling out a singular red orb from his pocket, "Whichever of us got farther in the tournament would give the other their orbs."

"What do they do?"

"Apparently they give someone a temporary boost to their strength once you have a complete set."

"What do you want with something like that?"

"I don't. But I don't trust him to have it."

Jirro paused for a moment and did some quick math in his head. The 1st place prize in the tournament was 500,000 Ivases. 100,000 Ivases for whoever was second place. Jirro had saved a lot of money working as a bounty hunter, and he would get more soon if everything worked out

...But he was still just a little short on funds that he'd need for his plan... About 20,000 short. The same amount awarded to a semi-finalist.

"Aero! Would you be willing to give up those orbs to help out our dads?" Jirro asked.

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The masked boy sauntered out of the finalist's lobby away from the tournament grounds, completely crushed by his defeat. He was pinning everything on being able to win this tournament. He needed those orbs to break through the barrier. He'd have to start over entirely, all those years of searching were a waste.

But the masked boy heard a voice call out from behind, "Hey! Efilon! Wait a second!"

He turned back and saw Jirro and Aero approaching him. Jirro was clutching all the orbs he had been collecting, "My cousin told me you've been looking for these."

"What of it?" The Masked One snapped back.

"I'm just wondering how much you'd be willing to pay for them?" Jirro asked.

"What're you talking about?"

"Aero and I have a plan, and we need 800,000 Ivases to pull it off. Since we both made it to the finals, we're guaranteed the prizes for first and second place, but we'll still be a little short, and everything will be easier if we have all the money today."

The masked boy looked at him astounded, "What in the world do you need 800,000 for?"

Jirro continued, "Don't worry about it. But after doing some math I figured out if we had 20,000 more, we'll have enough. I'm wondering if you'd be able to give up some of your prize money for these orbs?"

Aero stepped forward, "You have to promise you won't do anything bad with them though!"

The masked boy looked at the two cousins incredulously, "Are you two serious?"

"Yep. Just promise us you won't cause anyone any trouble with them," Aero said again.

"Ye-Yes of course!" The masked one stammered, "I might've done some things I'm not proud of, but I promise I won't do anything bad with them. I'll give you all the money you need."

Jirro smiled, and tucked the orbs back into his pockets, "Perfect. We just need you to stick around until after tournament when we all get our prize money. We'll make the trade then. Is that okay?"

"Yes! Absolutely!" The masked boy said graciously.

"What's your real name? I have a feeling it's not really Efilon," Aero asked him.

"I'd rather not say."

Aero and Jirro glanced at one another, "Suit yourself."

"Contestants Aero and Jirro!" The boys heard Cho call out to them, rushing to where they are, "I was looking for you two. Are you ready?"

Jirro hesitantly nodded, but he was still clearly strained from his match with the masked boy.

Aero said, "Can you wait a little bit longer? Jirro's still tired, and I want to fight him when he's at his best."

"Of course! Just let me know when you're both ready. Good luck to both of you!" Cho replied courteously, and he returned towards the tournament grounds.

"Thanks, cuz," Jirro said.

"No problem."

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Aero and Jirro returned to finalist's lobby, while the masked boy flew above the tournament grounds, perching atop one of the bleachers. The horizon began to turn a mix of purple and orange as the sun fell behind the horizon.

"After providing both fighters proper rest, they are ready to kick off the final match! The first to five points wins Age 990's Fighting Tournament!"

Aero and Jirro stepped out of the finalist's lobby in view of everyone, both with great smirks across their faces. They took their places on stage and readied themselves.

With a drum beat the match begun, and Aero charged forward, stopping short of Jirro before jumping over him to attack him from behind. But the blonde-haired boy was ready and met Aero in a clash of fisticuffs. Jirro swept Aero's leg from under him and followed up with a quick strike to his cheek.

"Point to Jirro! 1-0! Return to your starting positions."

"Jirro anticipated that."

Aero kicked back onto his feet, seeming excited. They returned to their starting positions. When the match resumed, Aero decided to go for sheer aggression rather than try and circle around Jirro. Aero's hand was alit with red light, and he broke through Jirro's guard and landed a blow to his chest.

"Point to Aero! 1-1! Return to your starting positions!"

"Brute force won that point."

Jirro reeled back from the blow but wasn't discouraged in the slightest. The two seemed to only grow in energy in each other's presence. The masked boy watched to see how they would adapt to each other.

The drum was beat, and the masked boy could no longer keep up with their movements.

They bounded across the stage at remarkable speed, bursts of red and blue light emanating from both. As they darted around the stage, each clash seemed to have dozens of near misses, and each blocked strike created a shockwave, unsettling the already crumbling stage.

Aero would come forward at unseen speed while Jirro would skillfully circle around him and try to counter, but both fought too perfectly to ever allow themselves to be struck.

They met at the center of the ring with their hands lit red and blue and clashed, sending ripples of energy over the stage. Both boys were sent flying out of the ring from the colliding Focus Strikes.

"No point! Both fighters rung out at the same time! Return to your starting positions!"