Gallery link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1iocpibWwrnaQqP7-IQuxCYYtI9Laii0XTy4EQDUcql0/edit

Starting setting:

The setting is in the same hotel room from the previous chapter. It is very early in the morning. Vequora is wearing white undergarments, and sitting at a desk while appearing to be cutting her kimono with scissors. Korie wakes up slowly. She sits up in bed, Korie sits on her bed and puts on her shirt and overalls.

Korie: “What’cha doing?”

Vequora: “I’m making a more… combat-suited outfit…”

Korie: “I see… you didn’t already have one before now?”

Vequora: “I didn’t have the time or resources.”

Korie: “Got’cha. Need help?”

Vequora keeps cutting various parts of her kimono and stitching them together in various manners.

Vequora: “I’m alright, thank you though.”

Korie paces around the room.

Korie: “So do you know who you’re up against first?”

Vequora: “No, but whoever they are is going to get beat!”

Korie: “That’s the spirit!”

Vequora: “Chill out… You need to be on your A-game too, you know?”

Korie: “Yeah… I shouldn’t get so hyped up, this tournament isn’t something that can be taken lightly.”

Vequora: “I don’t know about that, but just bring it down a notch. Okay?”

Vequora stands up and puts on some glasses, instead of putting in her usual contacts. She puts up her hair while walking over to her bag.

Korie: “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

Vequora: “I normally don’t, but I need to get ready relatively fast for the opening ceremony in a few minutes.”

Korie: “Oh yeah! You’re right!”

Vequora bends down and gets out some jeans from her bag. She puts them on, along with a matching jean jacket. She finishes lacing up her boots and stands back up. Vequora leaves the room while waving to her sister. She begins walking down the hallway, and she trips over a mop and falls to the floor. Cyrus, who was cleaning, jumps a bit. Cyrus takes out his earbuds he and helps Vequora to her feet.

Cyrus: “I am so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention!”

Vequora: “No… That was on me. You were just doing your job.”

Vequora brushes dust off of her clothes, which draws Cyrus’s attention. Cyrus blushes when he notices Vequora’s physique. Vequora chuckles when she notices how visibly flustered Cyrus is.

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Vequora: “I’m not that pretty.”

Cyrus scratches the back of his head, his face turning incredibly red. Vequora also lightly blushes. Vequora feels a surge of warmth creep up her neck, and she looks away for a second, trying to hide the growing blush on her cheeks. Cyrus, noticing her reaction, suddenly seems to realize what he just said, and his face turns red as well.

Cyrus: “I didn’t mean to— I mean, I’m not trying to make things weird or anything. It’s just… you’re different, in a good way.”

Vequora glances back at him, her eyes narrowing playfully.

Vequora: “Different how?”

Cyrus takes a step closer, the mop forgotten as he gazes at her, his heart clearly pounding in his chest.

Cyrus: “I don’t know… it’s like you’re strong but still… gentle? It’s hard to explain.”

Vequora raises an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. The subtle praise, wrapped in his nervous honesty, eases her.

Vequora: “You don’t even know me.”

Cyrus chuckles softly, shaking his head.

Cyrus: “Maybe not, but… I can tell there’s more to you.”

For a moment, Vequora feels vulnerable—something she’s not used to. She shifts her weight, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he’s standing. Her pulse quickens.

Vequora: “You're... surprisingly perceptive.”

Cyrus shrugs, his eyes never leaving hers. There’s a sincerity in his gaze that makes Vequora's heart skip a beat.

Cyrus: “Maybe I just pay more attention than most people.”

Their eyes lock again, and the space between them seems to shrink, almost unintentionally. Vequora feels a strange pull, something she hasn't experienced—a mix of curiosity, attraction, and nervous energy swirling inside her.

Cyrus: “I’m… glad I ran into you, even if it was kind of by accident.”

Vequora smirks.

Vequora: “More like I ran into your mop by accident.”

Cyrus grins. His hand lingers near Vequora’s arm, his fingers almost brushing against her skin. Vequora doesn’t step back, and for the first time in a long while, she feels herself lowering her guard.

Cyrus: lI think fate has a funny way of working sometimes.”

Vequora tilts her head slightly, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

Vequora: “You believe in fate?”

Cyrus's gaze softens, his voice quieter now, as if they were the only two people in the world.

Cyrus: “I think… sometimes, things are meant to happen. Like meeting certain people at the right moment. Everything that happens has a predetermined outcome. It’s just that nobody knows it.

Vequora’s heart races, her body warm under his gaze. There’s something about the way he looks at her—something that makes her feel seen, not just for her strength, but for the person beneath it. She feels that Cyrus looks at her for everything, and he may be someone who can better understand her struggles. She takes a slow breath, her voice softer than usual.

Vequora: “Maybe you're right.”

Cyrus leans in ever so slightly, his hand brushing hers in a brief, intimate gesture.

Cyrus: “Maybe we were supposed to meet like this?”

Vequora’s eyes flicker to his lips for the briefest moment before she quickly catches herself. She’s not used to this feeling—this connection that seems to be happening without her control. Her mind is on the tournament, the pressure, the weight of everything ahead, but in this moment, standing here with Cyrus, it all seems to fade into the background.

Vequora: “You really think so?”

Cyrus smiles, his hand finally brushing against hers, this time on purpose. His touch is warm and reassuring.

Cyrus: “Yeah. I do.”

For a moment, Vequora forgets the tournament, the pressure, and everything else. It’s just her and Cyrus, standing in the quiet hallway. Vequora shakes her head and returns to the moment.

Vequora: “Ah! I got lost there for a moment. I’ll see you around…”

Cyrus: “Cyrus!”

Vequora waves as she walks off towards the main arena for the opening of the tournament. Her heart rate accelerates as she continues to walk down the hallway. As she draws closer to the entrance of the arena, she notices a line of people, who all appear to be competitors. She steps into the back of the line. Her heart rate continues to rise as the roars of the crowd outside seem to grow louder.

Vequora’s thoughts: “You got this, Vequora… You’ve dreamed of this your whole life.”

The door opens, and the line of people march into the arena. The arena is a large circular stadium with rows of seating seeming to rise as high as the clouds. The ground in the center is a rugged stone, almost like asphalt on a street. As the competitors march out, the crowd greets them with thunderous applause.

Japanese fangirls: “Ganbare! Ganbare! Zazushi!”

Vequora’s thoughts: “Of course that jerk has a personal cheer squad. I don’t even know if I’m surprised.”

Vequora looks disgusted as she tunes out the chant. Vequora leans forward and looks left and right, amazed by the sheer number of people. Among them is Korie, who sees her and waves. The cheers fade and the stadium falls silent. The stadium lights turn off and a large screen is projected on the ground of the arena. The screen features a man in a suit and tie who has brown hair.

Announcer: “Welcome! Ladies and gentlemen! Prepare yourselves for the closest thing you'll ever see to gladiatorial combat in this day and age! With a prize pool of one million US dollars, I bring you… the 2009 world swordplay tournament! Each round of the tournament will be held in one of the different venues around the globe. Now I’m sure you’re asking; ‘How does this tournament work?’ It’s simple. Each round consists of eight pools of fighters that will be decided based on the upcoming qualifying round. Each pool functions as a miniature bracket, and the competitors are moved to different brackets in the next round based on their performance. If you lose—or die within the first match of the pool— you are eliminated. Now… before we begin the qualifying round… LET ME HEAR SOME NOISE!!!”

The crowd erupts with cheers as the competitors walk out of the stadium to prepare for the qualifying round.