Chapter 15: Chapter 14: Obey With Mercy, Part II

Saya opened the door to her room. She set down her sword, and plopped straight down on the fluffy, fuwa-fuwa, luxurious, camel leather couch that gave her a setsunatic feeling. The interior was nothing but a small apartment in the city; a small dining table, cupboards, and the like, however it lacked the basic amenities for a sleeping area such as a bed. Kyukko was sitting at the limestone table, helping herself to fresh Nankai tsaa.

“Where’d you go, Saya?”

“An examinational fight,” Saya mumbled with her face planted in the cushions. “One hour break, L says.”

“I see. Kazaàd companies must evaluate their candidates to ensure strong representation.”

Saya flipped around to lay on her backside, and stared into the ukiyo-e art on the ceiling.

“Nee, Obaa. Do you think mom and dad are worried about us?”

“They are busy working in the capital. Chances of them returning to Al-Shinkyou before Doloo are slim, so no need to worry. Besides, by that time you would have been a champion,” Kyukko smiled with the wrinkles on her skin. “You can rest now.”

Saya closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, reality had distorted. Time had ceased. Cautious, she got up from the couch and reached to grab her scimitar.

“Izdaha, was it?” A man spoke from behind her, and she knew who it was.

“Mr. Thiệu?...” Saya remembered what to do and quickly dropped on the floor. Even if she was a dunderhead, she wasn’t that stupid.

“Relax, child. I’m not here to scold. Just a talk.”

Thiệu grabbed one of the chairs, where Kyukko was frozen, and sat down. He crossed his legs and clasped his hands together. Saya said nothing. She laid there on the floor.

“I’ve known L long enough that he was lying through his teeth. He and that noble from the east have been plotting something for years. But enough of that, it seems you have a genuine interest in the Dineh Kazaàd. Unlike common folk, one syllable of that name has people on edge,” He knew what was going on. Saya swallowed her spit.

“...”

“You're one of a kind. Just the right attitude for the tournament to get you through the Major and Terminus either or. So all of the bullshit L and that Laoyuang has been feeding in you, don’t believe shit. They are trying to ruin your passion, your goal, your motivation,” His voice got louder, which frightened her more. “Don’t let a few rumors ruin your vigor. This world is forgetting how it itself works. People stopped believing in Yyvubia, denying its existence, that the stories are nothing but fairytales.”

“But L…”

“I’ve known L ever since the fall of the Dineh tribes in Tasdaha. His family, had a patrilineal contract with an Azu Kazaàd company, Yan-Kyou. His father, his uncles, grandfathers, all were forced into the tournament-”

“Stop it…” She let those words escape from her mouth. No matter how hard she kept it shut.

“L ran away from the company in Wakoku leaving his family behind, and then he met me. I helped him sign a contract with me, to take him under Al-Wa, protecting him from his family’s patrilineal contract. Everything he learned was from me. All of his sahar spells, prestige, and power, I took him under my wing-”

“Stop it please…”

“His late father was gone, so I treated him like he was my son. However he would never do as I asked him. L would direct all the fighters to Wakoku, where he would persuade them with his delusions-”

“Just stop!...” She shouted, causing the room to overflow with silence. Then she spoke with a hushed voice. “Please stop, Mr. Thiệu. I don’t want to hear how L was in the past, from the mouth of a man who threatens their ‘market’ with terrifying authority.”

Nothing happened for a small moment until Thiệu laughed heartily. Saya’s stomach felt like it could jump at any second by now, since she had insulted the CEO of Al-Wa. But she didn’t want him to talk about L. She wanted to know what L was like from L himself.

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“I apologize for my assertive nature,” Thiệu stated, “Nevertheless my stance is still clear. You can believe what you want to believe. You can hear what you want to hear. But here is some advice if you wish to survive the Dineh Kazaàd. Dedicate yourself to it. One stroke, two halves. If you are afraid of the tournament then you are doomed to fail.”

“...”

“Saya? Why are you on the floor? Are you sick? Hungry?” Kyukko walked to her. Saya glanced up, he was gone. Time started to move again. The chair that Thiệu sat on was in the same position as it was when he was sitting on it.

“I’m fine,” She mumbled, her voice trailing off. “One stroke, two halves…”

She stood up from the floor. Her knees had scrapes on her skin. Parting her hair with her hands, Saya noticed that tears were in her eyes. Did she cry out of fright, Saya thought.

“You must be hungry. L left some pandesal for us. It should be around here.”

The girl stuffed herself with Buhang bread, took her shoes, and then walked out the door. The air was cold, for sunlight couldn’t reach under the roof. Saya touched the cool veranda railing. A coastal breeze rushed through the building, her hair and shemagh dangling in unison with the wind. She had seen the tournament before, on the holographics. Ayai Toya and her graceful movements, as if the fighter was dancing in the arena. Her victories as the defending champion of the 1971, 1972, up to the 1977 Annual Dineh Kazaàd. But since she did not speak any of the national languages of Azu, Buhang, and Renhua, Ayai Toya only spoke a vernacular Khoit dialect.

“Has one been bothered?””

Saya turned to her right side to expect Kwazhak.

“L!” She smacked him lightly a number of times, as he chuckled.

“Sorry, sorry, I tried to impersonate him,” L was still laughing at her pouting. “He hasn't come back after a close call with Thiệu. I’m worried if he’s been caught.”

Saya bit her lip. If she told him now, then it would blow over. Everything that L and Kwazhak had been working on for years would be ruined. But Thiệu knew everything. Would it help to give them false hope? Or crippling despair?

A pause happened between them when they ceased talking, and only the wind could be heard. Saya went for it.

“L.”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you want to stop the Dineh Kazaàd?”

“...” L’s face went blank as if he had remembered something. And then he answered. “Do you remember hearing about how Yanese traditions had a major influence on Azu culture? Like the Yan people, us Azus would slit their throats and stomachs out of shame. We would die like it was nothing. Until Emperor Miyuyno abolished the centuries old tradition, stating that it didn’t match with today’s moral ethic,” L went on, “Modernization. The tournament is an old tradition, where people fight for entertainment and monetary gain. And I, and Le Prince want to stop that. We want to save people.”

Those words burrowed into her head. The Dineh Kazaàd really was a mystery. Her motivation began to waver, until another person’s words appeared to her.

“One stroke, two halves.”

L flicked her on the head with his finger. Saya stopped her train of thought.

“One hour is almost over, come down soon, Ms. Izdaha,” He headed for the stairs, as she just looked on with a daze.

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