The tourney was a small but lively affair. Sixteen of the city’s finest had entered to challenge each other in a fencing contest. Toshiro and Yasuko arrived early that morning, as the vendors and referees were setting up. They watched as the competitors warmed up. There was a range of styles among them, and from the crests on their robes, it was clear that most of them were sworn to Lord Kubo, but studied under different masters in his retinue.

 

Toshiro and Yasuko found their way to the stands, picking seats near where the competitors would rest between rounds. Yasuko produced a quill and journal and flipped open to her notes from the previous day.

 

“That one is Hibiki Kubo,” Yasuko said, pointing towards a tall, musclebound man. “He is Lord Kubo’s oldest son, and commander of the lord’s forces. Behind him is his brother Daisuke.”

 

Toshiro looked past the hulking form of Hibiki to see a thin, lithe man. Daisuke was much younger than his brother, no older than Toshiro himself. The pair wore jackets dyed deep black over robes of a pure cerulean blue. Judging by their sheen, Toshiro guessed they must have been silk. Regardless, they were expensive, and the brothers stood out amongst the competition.

 

“Miss Yasuko, weren’t there supposed to be sixteen?” Toshiro looked out across the field, counting on his fingers. “I only see fifteen.”

 

“Right you are young sir!” Toshiro looked up, startled, to see the referee standing above him. “Master Saito has taken ill and decided to withdraw.”

 

“Will his place be filled?” Yasuko asked.

 

“It would be best for the integrity of the tournament. But, alas, these sixteen were the only souls brave enough to enter in the first place.” The referee made a show of his disappointment, his words and expression exaggerated to almost comical effect.

 

Yasuko smiled diplomatically. “Would you accept a last-minute entrant?”

 

“We most certainly would!”

 

“Good. I could use the practice.” Yasuko stood and stretched. Her sleeves fell back as she raised her arms above her head, and for the first time Toshiro realized she was more than just fit. Beneath her skin, an iron matrix of muscles flexed.

 

“What are your rules?”

 

“Score three touches against your opponent before they do the same to you. Loser sits out the rest of the tournament.” 

 

Yasuko allowed herself a wider grin. “Excellent. Toshiro, please keep an eye on the brothers. Anything you can use to get into their good graces would be most useful for us. Now, good sir referee, may we formalize my admission?”

 

The referee led her away, overjoyed. Toshiro nodded to himself and adjusted in his seat, making sure he had a good vantage point to watch over the entire field. Before too long, Yasuko reappeared. She carried a bamboo helmet and wooden sword with her. Head held high, she moved to one of the training targets and began her own warmup. To Toshiro it seemed she knew everything Masami had been teaching him, but was able to execute it with blinding speed. The wooden training blade moved faster in her hands than he thought possible.

 

Before long, the referee from before and two others shouted for the field to be cleared. The competitors moved to the waiting area and sat as they awaited the first pair’s names to be called.

 

“Suzuki Uehara and Yukio Nakamura!”

 

Two contestants from the far side of the arena stepped up from their benches. The first, Suzuki Toshiro assumed, was a woman a few years his senior. Her gaze was harsh and cold, confident, but not at all similar to Yasuko’s placid, controlled look. Her opponent, Yukio, grinned and waved to the audience as he donned his helmet.

 

The pair took the center of the field where the three referees could see them well. The competitors bowed to one another - a shallow bow, Toshiro noted - then to the referees. With that they fell to a low position, knees almost touching the ground, then took their neutral guard stances, wooden swords held forward to guard their torsos and heads. They did not strike immediately. Instead they circled, stepping cautiously around each other as they tested for an opening. Suzuki batted at Yukio’s blade once, then again. On the third tap she burst forward with a scream, arcing her sword with blinding speed at her opponent’s helmet. They stood locked together for a moment as one of the referees cried “point Uehara!”

 

Both of the contestants let out another yell, each bloodcurdling in its own right. Toshiro was shocked. He wasn’t sure what he had expected of the tournament, but a screaming match was not it. By the time the thought passed, Suzuki and Yukio had disengaged and were circling once more. This time Suzuki didn’t waste a moment. She darted in, pressing Yukio’s sword aside with the guard of her own and snapped her wrist around to strike at the same place. The blow connected with a crack almost as loud as her shout, and Toshiro saw Yukio stagger back under the force with a grunt of pain. Once again the referee called the point for her.

 

When they re-engaged, it was clear Yukio was struggling. He did his best to lift his sword up and forward. But before he could manage it he cried out in pain as his left arm fell limp to his side. One of the referees stepped between him and Suzuki. Another approached Yukio and they spoke for a moment.

 

“Yukio Nakamura withdraws due to injury!”

 

There was an uproar in the crowd at the call. Cries of discontent rang out alongside whoops of excitement.

 

Yukio was escorted out of the arena by a person Toshiro had seen standing nearby since the start. Suzuki returned to her seat, and Toshiro was sure he saw her lips twist into a satisfied smirk. He wondered whether it was normal to injure your opponent so terribly, and found himself hoping Yasuko would not have to face Suzuki.

 

The next match was called, between Hibiki Kubo and Goro Matsumura. It was over nearly as quickly as it began. Hibiki was clearly leagues better as a swordsman, and it took him no more than five minutes to dissect and humble his opponent. Goro didn’t manage a single touch against him. Toshiro couldn’t help but notice that he did not walk away injured.

 

“Yasuko Hino and Jun Kita!”

 

Yasuko stood, steeling herself. She had not expected to see such shameful tactics as those Suzuki employed, and was beginning to wonder what she had gotten herself into. She composed her expression carefully. Calm and confident, that was what she should present to the world. What they would expect to see. She donned her helmet and strode to the center of the field. There in the center of everything she stood tall. She cast her eyes over her opponent. He was tall and long-armed, but carried himself clumsily. He shook ever so slightly as he rose to his guard. Yasuko smiled under her mask. Hardly a challenge.

 

She drove herself in and under the lanky man’s sword, closing off the advantage he had at a distance. He raised his arms to launch a blow as soon as he realized what she was doing, but it was too late. Yasuko delivered a quick, sharp blow to his right side, shouting and stomping as she did.

 

Toshiro nearly leapt from his seat. So this was why people liked tournaments so much. The thrill of the fight was exhilarating.

 

Yasuko nodded to herself as she stepped back to disengage from her opponent. As expected, he was slow and used to relying on reach to win fights. As the referee motioned for them to continue she exploded forward again, feinting low towards Jun’s right. This time he was ready to intercept, but so was Yasuko. She raised her sword above her head to parry the blow Jun brought down, then stood up tall, twisting his blade out of the way and cracking her sword across his helmet with a triumphant cry.

 

Her opponent growled angrily as they locked swords. She looked him right in the eye through her helmet and let a hint of a smile grace her lips before she whirled away. This time Jun took the initiative, swinging wide from a distance. Yasuko slapped his blade away with the flat of hers and stepped in, but Jun leapt back with another sweeping strike. They continued like this for a few moments. Finally, Jun began to tire. Yasuko seized the advantage immediately, delivering a quick blow to his right shoulder. As the referee called the point, she gave a shallow but respectful bow to her opponent and began making her way back to the competitors’ benches.

 

Toshiro let out a triumphant cry as Yasuko won, and the crowd roared with him. The next few matches were a blur before him. All he could think about was how Yasuko had dispatched Jun with such surgical precision, how swift and sure her movements were.

 

Yasuko fixed her robes as the next match played out before her. She was proud enough of the win, but it had hardly tested her. The other competitors seemed much more suitable challenges. Especially the Kubo brothers. The younger fought now, quick and lithe as he danced around his opponent’s blade. Yes, either of them would be an enjoyable opponent. She could pull out all the stops and really show off her skill against someone like that. She wondered if that would impress the farm boy who was now her companion, or if it would scare him off. Either way, she longed for a real test.

 

And then the sky split in half, and the sun went black.