Tahro Akagi shouldn't live in two worlds at once.
Yet, forced to spend his days studying by a no-nonsense mother, he longs for adventure. In a moment of desperation, Tahro's soul splits in two. While one of his selves remains in Japan, the other fi...
May 25. Fourteen going on fifteen years old. Saishuu Riku.
The day began with a whirlwind of exams. From legal studies, geography and even basic mathematics, all the four hundred or so participants were tested on every subject they'd had in general training. As someone who'd taken similar exams only six months ago, I thought they were a piece of cake. Besides, compared to the tests in my middle school, they were nothing. But on the way home, I'd heard several groans and complaints from the other swordsmen. Lucky. They'd weep if they saw my Japanese exam.
Still, as the hours went by, a nagging feeling grew within me that I might have messed some questions up. I hoped I made it through to the next round.
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May 26. Fourteen going on fifteen years old. Saishuu Riku.
'First place, Tahro!' Ahio yelled, bouncing up and down. 'Ninety-eight per cent! How did you even study that much?'
'Huh, what?' My still sleep-laden eyes gazed at the scoreboard closest to me. The amphitheater was covered with the lists. The hall only held half the crowd of the opening ceremony today, just the fighters, so all the swordsmen had one in their vicinity. Over every glass window and bare piece of wall hung the large sheets of paper. And on the very top, they said— 1) Tahro Akagi 98%.
I rubbed my eyes and blinked. Sure, the exam was easy, and sure, I'd scored well on much harder tests. But highest? Out of some two-hundred fighters?
Exhilaration swept through me like the wind. Here was proof that, even without special training, I was just as good as the other swordsmen. At least when it came to academics. Until now, I hadn't acknowledged that doubt, so deeply buried that I'd not even known of it. Buried yet adding up every time when Kei mentioned my lack of training or when I saw my previous classmates with their mentors
'Congratulations!' Kaede threw her arms around me in a quick hug. Her face sported a wide grin. 'I'm through to the next round too.'
'So am I,' said Kei, his lips twitching in a half-smile despite his usual unimpressed hands-in-pocket slouch.
'That's great!' I grinned back and skimmed the list. Kei was fourth place, and Kaede was thirty-first. Only the top one hundred fighters would move on to the next round. For medics and informants, it was the top fifty, and they'd have their scoreboards released tomorrow and the day following. They'd also do the next rounds afterwards, which focused on abilities specific to their specialties. I hoped all my friends would pass.
Static crackled in the air, hushing the chattering swordsmen. Swordsman Natsumi tapped her mic, looking down at us from the podium. While some of the kids gave her large smiles or nervous grins, others frowned, glancing between her and the lists over and over again. Maybe they haven't made the cut-off.
'Those who passed, well done! I hope your prowess in the classroom would reflect in the field as well,' said Swordsman Natsumi, her voice booming across the hall. 'To the rest, better luck next time. Too bad, you should've tried harder.'
I winced. She's brutal.
'The next round will take place in the arena. You and your opponents will be chosen by raffle. Five judges, including myself and the Minister, would judge you based on your readiness to engage, ingenuity and tenacity,' she said. 'Each judge will give you points out of ten. If you are the winner, you will receive another ten points. Only those with the top thirty-six scores will move on to the next round. Any questions?'
After a few minutes of clearing any doubts, the swordsmen moved out of the amphitheatre, some rushing forward in a hurry and others trudging along with slumped shoulders. The streets filled with a sea of swordsmen, all moving towards the high-walled stadium neighbouring the HQ. Perhaps even the ones who didn't pass wanted to see a good match.
We marched through a giant archway, taking stairs to the right and left of the entrance. A field of various terrain, rocks and little lakes on one end, grass with poppies and shrubbery on the other, laid below us. People shoved each other to get the best seats. Just staying in the same spot took effort and lots of bruises. Soon, I lost sight of Kaede, Kei and Ahio in the chaos.
'Over here, guys!' screamed a voice. Craning my neck, I spotted Ahio on a seat three rows above me. Well, seats. He laid on his back across four chairs, glaring at anyone who dared come close.
By the time I got there, Kaede and Kei had joined him. I didn't know how they did it, but I chose to wait for the crowd on the stairway to thin. Best to save the bruises for the actual fight.
Ahio was a blessing sometimes. The seats were high up enough to catch all the action, but not too much so as to miss any small details. They were dead centre of one edge of the field too.
Still wouldn't tell him my address though.
Just after everyone settled down, the judges walked in. They strode across the stadium to the other end, where a bench and chairs stood waiting. A man lugging a large sphere-like contraption followed them. Its insides were filled with white flakes. It must be a raffle draw machine with our names in it! The man set it by one end of the judges' table, his face red and sweaty. It must've weighed a ton.
My palms grew slick with sweat as Swordsman Natsumi introduced the judges. Oh God, what if I'm first? The reality of fighting in front of all these people, under the eyes of the Minister and his top swordsmen to boot, set in like an icy downpour. Especially if I were picked right now, before getting the hang of the scoring system and what the judges prefer. How'd I know to get the most points? Please please, don't pick me.
Minister Banji approached the sphere, the golden emblem on his cloak glinting in the sunlight. A hush fell across the stadium. With a flourish, he flipped a lever on the foot of the machine.
The papers flew inside in a flurry, tossing and turning against each other. Somewhere in there was my name, battling against the odds to be chosen. Please don't be first.
A small clicking noise came from my left. I turned to see Ahio biting his nails, with one hand holding tight onto Kaede's. He gave me a nervous grin. Lucky duck, he doesn't have to fight.
With a little clatter, the contraption spat out a slip of paper. Minister Banji caught it, raising the mic in his other hand.
'The first contestant for match one is,' He swept his eyes across the arena, 'Tahro Akagi!'
