Suruj reached his hand towards three people. But they soon turned around and walked away. No matter how much he begged, yelled, or ran, they walked on toward the abyss.
He brought himself awake with a scream. Sitting upright, he was on a medical stretcher. Glancing at his body, it was back to normal condition, but his right eye was covered in bandages. As he controlled his breath, his senses stabilized.
“You must’ve had a nightmare.”
Saya was in the other stretcher next to his, with an intravenous tube connected to her arm. Surprised, he painfully turned to her.
“Saya? You’re here too?”
“Yeah, I actually had to get some sort of surgery for my injury… but luckily for you, they could heal most of your wounds with sahar,” She scratched her head.
“Why did they vote for me as the winner?...” He started to recall what happened back in the arena. “Why did I survive?”
“... The audience voted for Shunji, but I told Ayai Toya to overturn the vote,” Saya explained, before coughing. “I wasn’t sure if it would work but, Toya actually took my word for some reason.”
“Ayai Toya…” He had an idea of who restored the barrier.
“It was hard to watch. Mouka, and now this…”
“Mouka? Who’s that?”
“What? You know her,” Saya blinked twice, “You’re joking, right?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know who that is,” Suruj held his forehead, as a pang of pain struck his brain trying to remember. Saya’s face gave a shocked expression, which made him even more confused.
“Memory loss? What happened over there?” She shooted question after question. “Mouka Toqemur. The Khoitan whom you always hung out with while we were in Wakoku?”
“Gh…” His brain was being punished, like his mind was struck by lightning. “I- I don’t know. I can’t remember.”
That was when sparks flew inside of him. Without hesitation he slipped out of the stretcher, ignoring the pain in his body. Collapsing to the ground, he got up.
“Suruj, what-”
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He bolted away from the infirmary. All he could think about was remembering that person. Running out into the street barefoot, he couldn’t feel the scorching heat of the asphalt. Suruj kept on going, running with what his legs could take him.
His entire experience at Wakoku, was as if a fuzzy cloud casted over it. A hole in time. But still, there had to be a way to remember. Memories created who he was in the present.
Suruj’s legs went numb, dashing at full speed. He no longer worried about the repercussions of his sprint. Exiting Taikai-ku, he entered the bustling Pupunru-ku, dazzling with artificial lights and neon. Gazing around, he felt ever more confused. He didn't know who Mouka was. If they were a boy or a girl, their appearance, he didn’t have a clue. But he knew Saya from her voice.
“Mouka Toqemur… are you the one that messed with my mind?” Suruj yelled while running. His sprint continued past several blocks, now in Kapori-ku. Groups of people lay in prostration on parts of the street, deep in meditation. He finally stopped, experiencing a shortness of breath. In the end, he lied to Jose. Lied that they would finally escape. Suruj lied to himself.
“Pasensya na, Jose…” He repeated while panting heavily, the fatigue wearing down on him. No matter how much he tried, there was nothing he could remember about Mouka.
“Are you the muqatil who was with that other tall one?” A woman abruptly came trodding towards him furiously.
“You-” Suruj couldn’t finish his sentence before he received a slap on the face. Falling down, it stung more with the bandages around his eye and face. “Gh…”
“You look like crap but no doubt about it,” She brought him back to his feet. “That device you gave my father…”
“I remember you, y- you were the daughter of that kaarage food vendor,” Suruj said shakily, “What happened?”
“My papa got arrested for possessing that thing.”
“The hologram recorder?...”
“Right here,” She took it from her pocket and activated it, which displayed the fight between the group and Thiệu. “He fixed it and even tinkered it to display media networks,” Then she clicked a button and it changed to broadcast the news from the outside. It showed The Rebellion movement attempting to enter Tasdaha, which apparently had closed borders. The Azutami emperor was pressuring the sultan to reopen them, for it was affecting trade between the three nations.
“Your father did that?...”
“Yes, but now he is in a prison cell for the next decade of his life accused of subversion. I can’t forgive the tall muqatil who gave him that task. However, now I have seen The Rebellion…”
“Hold on… I beg of you not to report us to the KWKK,” He said with angst and a broken voice. If word got out now, then it was over for them.
“I will assist The Rebellion.”
“Please don’t- Huh?...”
“My eyes have enlightened me of the truth going on outside Tasdaha. The selfish deceit that has been happening for centuries with my people, and others,” The woman kneeled before him, “I will aid the muqatil in overthrowing the tournament.”
“Wait, this is too much. How can we even trust you? After we caused your father to end up in prison?” He stepped back, not believing what she just said. In doubt, she presented him the device once more. There was a common branding mark among the people in The Rebellion, the symbol ‘L’ seared into their skin. Then the woman rolled down her sleeve, which showed the very same symbol that was burned into her skin with a branding iron.
“I, Karam al-Murata…” She looked up with fierce eyes and vowed, “Shall aid the muqatil in overthrowing the Dineh Kazaàd.”