Saya brandished her sword, as it shook in her hands. She had no intention of using it, especially against someone she knew. Following the process that Kwazhak had taught, she thoroughly cleaned it with a cloth, layered it with choji oil, before making the final wipe. Saya sheathed the sword tightly while sitting near the wall of the arena corridor. It was almost time. Spotting Suruj heading back inside, she signaled to him. He made slow and lethargic steps, as if all of his energy were zapped from him.
“Suruj…” Saya let out shyly, unable to counter the tension. It was obvious who survived.
“The dome above is cracked. You and Mashuu should focus your efforts there,” Suruj walked past her.
“Did you do it?...” Saya called out to him, as he stopped. Suruj turned around, and showed Saya his face, his expression.
“Yeah… Mouka and I tried,” He said solemnly, fixing his bloody Khoitan hat.
“Then what should we do?”
Suruj ignored her question and exited the hallway. Saya tried to keep her hands from shaking. It wasn’t long before the guards escorted her to the entrance to the field.
“Now, it has been a long day of continuous battling, but here we have the last fight of the Minor. A duel between two muqatil of low and defective sahar levels, Izdaha versus Ashojan!”
Saya hesitantly walked into the spotlight, with her scimitar slung around her shoulder. She wore her traditional attire from the start of her journey; her shemagh and a cotton cloak. Mashuu appeared from the opposite side, still using the Al-Wa uniform. The sahar density level settled to forty-one hyakume. Standing parallel to each other, the two fighters quietly waited. Suruj gave them the task of destroying the dome. Looking above, it was already full of cracks. Saya closed her quivering libs and waited for the announcer to start. From spectating the previous rounds, a seed of doubt planted unconsciously in the depths of her mind, that the person in front of her wanted to kill her. However she needed to have faith in Mashuu.
The horn sounded. The two stood in the midst of the swirling dust and sand. Mashuu held his thin sword to his waist. Saya did not move.
“Saya… Is there really a way out of this?” He called out to her.
“There is! Suruj told us we have to destroy the barrier above us.”
He looked towards the pitying sky.
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“Above?... It’s useless,” Mashuu responded in a dejected tone. “Neither of us have the ability to do that here.”
“Then I’ll try. Alam Apoy!” Saya aimed her hand upwards as a burst of flames spewed out, but did not touch the roof of the barrier. She tried again. “Alam… Apoy!”
An even intense blaze unleashed from her hand, but with no success. She lowered her hand, coughing. Mashuu’s face went bleak at the sight. An object flew directly at her. Ducking, she instinctively touched the scimitar on her back. It was the knife that Mashuu used when they were punished.
“Hah!”
Saya quickly drew her blade to block an attack made by a fencing sword. Exchanging parries he pushed her to the wall. The fencing sword pierced the concrete over Saya’s shoulder.
“Mashuu, why are you doing this?...” Saya’s eyes blinked. Panting tiredly, he opened his mouth.
“Back then you wanted to fight in the Dineh Kazaàd…” He retreated his blade, “Isn’t this what you wanted!?”
Saya broke free and tumbled behind him. She came to her feet. Mashuu closed the gap between them. Saya caught wind of his blade in a whirlpool motion, sending it to his side. The sun beamed down over her. Mashuu took a knee.
“We have a job to do, and that’s getting out of here,” She lowered her sword while extending an arm towards him. She blocked a side slash from her left. The two weapons of metal grinded against each other in harsh screams.
“You’re being that optimistic, and you have your guard up this entire time,” Mashuu stood up as he kept the pressure on her sword. “I can’t do anything here. In the end I’m a defective human.”
“What are you talking about?!” She shouted at him, pushing back harder. “On that day, you bested me inside my family’s residence, and since then I know you’re strong enough!”
“Just what do you know about… What do you know about me!?” He screamed, managing to break Saya’s stance. She took a step back. He lunged at her. They had to break the barrier. Even if they couldn’t, Saya wanted to try. Turning her back, she ran.
“Alam Botok!” She jumped to place her feet on the wall, keeping herself upright. Running up the circular formation of the arena, she believed that range was the problem. But it was harder than she thought. Saya slipped on a loose brick when she was at the same elevation as the audience. Falling, her grip tightened as she landed clumsily on the sandy ground. Saya’s shoulders stung from impact, racking her head. Mashuu brought his sword up, the sun flashing before her eyes. In a last ditch effort, she grabbed hold of the fencing sword. Blood oozed from her hand while she struggled with her breathing.
“See, Mashuu? There’s no way I could’ve caught this unless you were going super slow…” Saya taunted as he slid the sword out. She let out a shriek at the pain coursing through her left hand, almost passing out from the cut. “I know that you don’t want to kill me…” She dug the scimitar in the ground like a cane to bring herself to her feet, wrapping her injury with a cloth. “So please…”
“...”
Mashuu lowered his guard, waiting for Saya to stand. Saya knew that her skills were probably lower than his when she first met him years before. Someone that had bested her in her first duel. The person that made her train harder than before with her father. But since then, she never saw that clockmaker swordsman, Mashuu Ashojan, until the day all of them were in Wakoku.