This is the final chapter of Book III. Thank you, all of you who have encouraged me and left comments! Be safe.


SEA OF HIDDEN DRAGON

와룡장해 :: 臥龍藏海

by Solmae

[11/2012 & 11/2013]

BOOK III: STORM

[3/30/2020 Version]

Chapter 16

"...It's been eight years, four months, and fifteen days," Inui and Yanagi chorused. Kirihara's expression was half incredulous and half annoyed, and Marui had to swallow a laugh. No matter what, Yanagi had an edge right from the start, and was Yanagi not their tactician? Yanagi wasn't the kind of person who would take it easy on an opponent, particularly not over something so trivial as personal attachment. There was no way Seishun's Inui stood a chance against Yanagi.

And that was why the rest of Rikkai was speechless when Inui picked himself up, eyes glinting dangerously, and announced their true match could now begin. Perfectly recreating an unfinished match from eight years ago just so they could resume where they left off – how anyone could ever obsess about one match that long was beyond him, but Marui could appreciate the stroke of genius behind the move. Even their cool-headed Yanagi was unsettled.

But Yanagi couldn't lose. It wasn't allowed. Next to him, even as a judge announced Inui's victory, Kirihara was tense, swallowing convulsively. He nearly reached out to Kirihara, but the boy suddenly turned and stepped away quickly, moving to intercept Sanada and Yanagi, who had come back to face the lieutenant commander. Sanada's dark eyes were implacable, worse than disappointed, far deeper than furious. Marui did not dare look at the judges' table, where he could feel Yukimura watching them, the unwavering heather gray gaze as heavy as a physical touch.

"Oh heavens," Kuwabara breathed next to him, and Marui clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a sound. Sanada's hand had shot out to backhand Yanagi – and had met Kirihara's gauntleted wrist.

Even Yanagi himself had asked to be punished. A loss was unforgivable for Rikkai whether in real battle or a match. Nobody had ever dared to contradict Sanada before or challenged Rikkai's unquestioned tenet.

"It's fine, isn't it? Marui-senpai and Kuwabara-senpai will win the next match, and I'll win mine. Then it's Niou-senpai and Yagyuu-senpai. We won't lose."

The force of the interrupted blow must have been bone-jarring. Yet the boy met Sanada's eyes, unflinching and determined. Marui swallowed, and felt his whole team tense as Sanada's eyes narrowed.

Sanada lowered his hand without a word.

Marui had to blink, to be sure he had really seen that. Then, he stepped forward briskly, with a sharp nudge in his partner's side. His partner knew him and followed immediately, falling in step until they stood at the center of the arena.

Seishun's elation was understandably raucous. Inui's win had been an unexpected gift. A glance told him Seishun's junior duo, their second doubles pair, was in high spirits. We have to crush them completely, Yanagi had said during their strategic meeting. They cannot be allowed to win even one match out of the five. After Yanagi's loss, their win was even more essential, to soundly beat Seishun's pair and reassert Rikkai's dominance.

With a perfunctory exchange of bows, Marui pointedly turned his back, walking back to one side to wait for the start signal.

"Hey." It was the rambunctious one of the two, Momoshiro. Marui craned his head to throw him a sideways glance, not bothering to turn. "Can you take off the wrist weights before we start?"

Sharp eyes on this one. Marui cast a cool gaze on him, deliberately dismissive. "Make us," he tossed behind his shoulder and walked away, Kuwabara perfectly in step next to him.

Marui could see Seishun's pair was not very experienced in fighting in pair or as a pair, but the two were able warriors and had a good balance of trust and independence between them. Momoshiro in particular was becoming troublesome. Just after Kuwabara went through the trouble of replicating Kaidoh's signature attack to demoralize him, Momoshiro simply stepped up to cover both of them, defending his partner as well as himself until Kaidoh recovered. And Kaidoh had not only recovered, but was now dogging Kuwabara step by step, matching Kuwabara's famed stamina.

Kuwabara and Marui, unlike Seishun's impromptu pair, had been fighting as a pair for a long time. They were especially effective in a fight because they specialized: Marui focused solely on the offensive while Kuwabara maintained impenetrable defense for both of them, a style only possible with complete trust in each other's ability. But when Momoshiro led the next attack with Kaidoh close at heel, Marui moved swiftly to defend, covering Kuwabara, to the shock of everyone including his own partner. A gut instinct, a warning was singing through his mind, that if he allowed this attack to land, the tide may yet turn.

Several confusing and bruising moments later, it was done. They had won and left Seishun's pair flat on their backs. But he could hear Kuwabara's harsh pants in time with his own pounding heartbeat. More dizzying than the rush of adrenaline was an intuitive feeling that their opponents, given enough time, might have overtaken them. The weights on his wrists and ankles felt like shackles, dragging on his tired limbs. They were victorious this time. He wasn't quite so sure about next time.

The look Kirihara gave them was one mixed with pride and relief, and determination not to be outshined. Marui finally allowed himself a grin, goading and encouraging at once, and nodded to the boy.

Fuji was already waiting at the center of the arena. Marui watched Kirihara's confident strides, the subtle prowl of a predator sizing up a prey.

"So you're the one they call a prodigy, huh?"

Kirihara's insolent tone did not get so much as a blink from Fuji, who held his ground with ease, but Kirihara was undeterred.

"You know the thing about geniuses? They turn out unexpectedly fragile when you break them."

Fuji's eyes were open, startlingly blue – and cold as ice. Yanagi had already briefed Kirihara thoroughly on Fuji's techniques and stressed the importance of a decisive victory for Rikkai. In addition there was the promise the boy had made to deliver this match. Kirihara was a Rikkai member through and through, and would succeed or die trying. The match began, and Marui settled down next to his partner.

"Fuji's doing better than expected," came a comment somewhere in the Seishun's side of the audience. "The key to the match may be how well his specialty counters hold up against Kirihara's singularly offense-focused style."

Niou, who had been watching the first rounds of parries closely, gave a derisive snort. "Blind idiots. Fuji's the one who's attacking."

Certainly, it was difficult to reconcile the Fuji in the arena with the delicately smiling courtier everyone knew. Marui hadn't even known Fuji was interested in any weapon but a bow. Archery had a deep history in the empire and every young noble was expected to learn it, much like poetry or music. Which meant while some archers were also gifted warriors, such as Yukimura or Prince Shotoku of the Shitennou, many archers never meant to become warriors at all. Yet currently in the arena was a warrior who was in equal parts brilliant and bold, with no weakness whatsoever in his stance. Unexpected.

A neat score, a distraction only, Marui realized a second later as Fuji's sword suddenly thrust low, aiming for Kirihara's knee—

Kirihara instinctively moved to block, but Fuji's blade sprang upward and sliced at his shoulder instead.

A feint. Marui let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Maybe even a provocation – one that worked. Kirihara was riled up, spraying up sand with a violent kick before taking the ready stance again.

Although Fuji did not let up from his earlier intensity, he seemed distracted, as if his mind was elsewhere. Marui frowned, irritation battling concern. Kirihara was angry, and it was either very brave or really stupid of Fuji to show his distraction so plainly.

A vicious kick and slash nearly drove Fuji to his knee, then Kirihara's wooden hilt – almost like an accident – smashed into the side of Fuji's head.

"Fuji!"

Fuji rolled with the momentum, regaining his balance on one knee. There was a trickle of blood on his temple, but otherwise he appeared unhurt. Lucky, Marui mused wryly. Kirihara wasn't shy about injuring his opponents. Fuji had gotten off light if he was still able to move. Or perhaps he had been able to dodge enough of Kirihara's attack to avoid a direct hit. The referees rushed to separate them, although Kirihara hadn't moved since the last attack, and after a moment, Fuji waved away questions of whether he could continue.

As he picked himself up, Fuji's fingers scrabbled on the ground for the wooden sword, then he was on his feet. Marui had to give it to him. For someone Marui had considered soft court lordling, Fuji had guts.

Marui's eyes strayed to Yukimura. Fuji was to become Yukimura's brother-in-law soon. He wondered if Yukimura liked this new side of Fuji. Perhaps, since Fuji was obviously talented, and there was very little Yukimura and Sanada loved more than a truly gifted warrior. Then, he noticed Yukimura's expressionless face.

Yukimura only ever looked like that on the battlefield, suppressing all emotions, not allowing his opponent even a glimpse of what he thought, icy and unyielding as a sheer glacier cliff.

"But..." Why? The question never escaped him. Kirihara's eyes were red, full of battle lust, of killing intent. He was out for blood now, not a victory. And Fuji...

A fire had kindled in the depths of Fuji's eyes. Unrelenting. Undaunted. Matching Kirihara's fury with his own.

Deadly.

Marui shivered. Then, Kirihara once again leaped to action, and there was no more time for thoughts.


A sharp blow to his arm, then a jab at his thigh. His head pounded, either from the earlier blow or the blood rushing through him with every heartbeat. But all that was a distant thought in his mind. Inconsequential.

He could see nothing. His entire world was shrouded in darkness. The rest of the world outside the arena had long since ceased to exist. But his mind was calm and focused. His breathing was quick and light, but perfectly regulated. He was aware of his own heart, drumming steadily.

And he was just as intensely aware of his opponent. Kirihara was a blaze in his sharpened senses, hot and uncontrolled, a wildfire threatening to consume him. But Fuji was unafraid. No. He was excited. More than excited.

Elated. Ecstatic. At last himself.

He stopped trying to see or hear and entrusted his body to the senses that led him, clearer than sight or sound. His body knew what to do. He needed only to stop thinking. Stop doubting. And let go.

"Aren't you doing well?" Kirihara's voice, loud and taunting. "For not being able to see, that is!"

So his opponent had noticed. Had perhaps even aimed for it. But the verbal goad was unnecessary. Not when Kirihara already called out to him with every fiber of his being, to fight. No more time to wonder whether he too could become serious. Fuji surrendered to the pull, and answered the call.

Fuji thrust upward and felt the tip of his blade connect. A slice, then another thrust, followed by a swing to the right, and Kirihara pressed back, furious about being forced into defensive. But Fuji wasn't done. Hadn't even gotten started.

Just like during Tezuka and Atobe's match, the ground had dropped away from under his feet. But so had the ceiling. And the walls surrounding him were falling away like a box being dismantled. Nothing was left in his world but this weightlessness. Nothing but perfect freedom. Currents of wind moving with no boundaries, no limits.

Fuji threw himself into the flight, feeling himself hurtle through the air like one of his perfectly aimed arrows. Kirihara fell back from Fuji's attacks, concentration momentarily shaken – a spot of chill where there used to be heat. But then the flame flickered back into existence a scarce moment later, blazing hotter than ever. Fuji almost laughed for joy; even the threat of defeat wasn't enough to intimidate Kirihara. Kirihara's attacks were blurring together, faster, irregular, evolving. A leap, and the next blow fell on him with the force of a waterfall. The impact jarred his entire body, his arms gone almost numb. But Kirihara was coming again.

For Seishun. Fuji didn't know if he'd shouted that thought aloud. His wooden sword met Kirihara's again. And even through the bone-jarring impact he could feel the warning of the wood giving way, the sword splintering and breaking.

"Fuji-senpai, the hilt!"

Echizen's voice cut through to him. Silently Fuji thanked Echizen, bringing up his sword hilt-first to catch Kirihara's blade and force him back. A third of his sword had broken away, leaving a sharp, jagged edge at the tip. But the lower two-thirds of the blade was intact, enough for him to shift his grip downward and keep going. Come! He willed Kirihara to attack, to try again. However many times!

The smashing blow came again, but the contact lasted only an instant. Fuji felt Kirihara's sword flying away, but did not wait to hear it land, moving for the kill. The sharp, broken end of his sword thrust neatly against Kirihara's unguarded chest, and Kirihara froze, as if in confusion.

"It got away from you, huh." Sanada's voice. Low and gruff, but not angry. There was something akin to approval lurking under the lieutenant commander's words. "Your grip isn't strong enough to handle that move yet."

Ah. So it had been Sanada's famous attack that Kirihara had imitated: one of Fuu-Rin-Ka-Zan, Sanada's four signature moves. Inui had thoroughly drilled both him and Echizen about those, in case either of them had to face Sanada in the final match. The judge then announced, "The match won by Seishun's Fuji!" and Fuji finally remembered to lower his sword. The next moment, Kirihara was a dead weight against him, out cold.

Hands pulled the boy away, calling Kirihara's name in concern. "It's okay," Fuji called to them. "He's just asleep."

He couldn't help a smile. How could he not? He couldn't hate a soul that burned so brightly and bravely. Instead of being cowed when cornered, Kirihara had pushed back harder, a bundle of passion and determination. Such strength and courage were rare. This one was a true warrior to the bone, someone who genuinely loved the way of the sword. Despite his violent temper and ruthless style, Kirihara's sword was pure-hearted.

As soon as Kirihara was out of his hands there were others pulling at him, Seishun members clasping his arm and hugging him in joy, congratulating him. Fuji blinked when something blue flickered in the corner of his vision. Then red. A flower blossoming on blue. Seishun's flag. An image of Tezuka in his match with Atobe flashed through his thoughts like a streak of lightning.

For a moment, Fuji stood motionless and gazed at the azure fabric fluttering in the breeze.

Tezuka, I think I'm beginning to understand.


Yukimura was aware of the whispers all around him. Clearly Fuji's transformation was a surprise for everyone. No. Not a transformation. An awakening. And not the only one, either. As he expected, when Kirihara, who had passed out at the end of his match, bolted upright asking what happened, Sanada quietly informed him that he lost, but let it go without a reprimand. What could Sanada have said? Kirihara too had an awakening of his own, and had done better than anyone – including Sanada and Yukimura himself – had ever expected. The boy's phenomenal growth filled Yukimura with a fierce pride, and he suspected Sanada felt the same. But Fuji – Fuji had surpassed even that.

The Empress still looked stunned. Then she flushed with a rare, open expression of pride and joy, leaning forward in her seat to catch a better look at her victorious nephew. Her eyes were sparkling with delight – and calculation. Until now, the soft-spoken, ambitionless Fuji seemed of little importance save as a pawn in the Empress's marriage game. Was she getting new ideas, faced with Fuji's undeniable talent? Even Fuji's choice to ally himself with Seishun must seem opportune to the enterprising woman. Did she now see a chance to combine in her nephew an alliance through marriage with Rikkai and a partnership with Seishun? Yukimura could almost admire the Empress for her remorselessly expedient mind. She was truly a worthy consort to their crafty Emperor, who was seated next to her today to watch the final round between Seishun and Rikkai.

As for Fuji himself, Fuji's talent did make Yukimura's own fingers itch. What an asset Fuji would have made, had he chosen Rikkai. But Yukimura sensed in the current Fuji a hardening, that he would not be so malleable to influence. And that change, he was sure, had stemmed from Tezuka.

Tezuka. It always came back to Tezuka. The thorn in Sanada's side ever since he defeated Sanada six years ago. And now this. Whether out of romantic feelings or a mistaken sense of idealism, Fuji had chosen to stand with Seishun, the underdog in this match. A choice the old Fuji would never have made. It simply wouldn't do, to allow Fuji a permanent attachment to Seishun, or rather to Tezuka. If left with Tezuka, Fuji would keep changing and might turn into something troublesome.

The great-grandson of the Shitennou's Divine Archer, added to a grandson and a son of two other Shitennou. Did the Empress see only the potential leverage and not the danger? Was she even aware what tenuous control she had over her nephew existed at all because Fuji allowed it? But not for much longer. This bird might have been content to perch in a cage for years, fooling itself that it was a tame songbird, but it had had a taste of the sky just now. It would soon realize it was a falcon, not a songbird, with powerful wings and talons sharp enough to break the bars of its own cage. And once flown, it would never return.

All of it would have to be taken care of, and soon. Yukimura leaned back in his seat, face carefully blank. Niou and Yagyuu's level was above that of Seishun's famed Golden Pair. And if Fuji faced Kirihara, that left only the young Echizen as Sanada's opponent. And Sanada, Yukimura knew, would be in no mood for mercy. Neither would Niou and Yagyuu. It would be a matter of pride after Seishun's unexpected wins for two of the three singles matches. After they won, however...

After this day was over, it would be time to figure out a way to take care of Tezuka – and Seishun – for good.


By the time Niou and Yagyuu sauntered over to exchange greetings with Seishun's Oishi and Kikumaru, Yanagi felt balanced enough to continue observing. His own loss to Inui – the continuation of their match from so long ago – had been a surprise, even if not entirely an unpleasant one. They had been inseparable once, he and Inui. But he was the heir of the Yanagi clan and had no choice but to follow the clan's decision to move. And so eight years ago, he'd challenged Inui to a sparring match to see who was better. Perhaps he'd always believed, had they not run out of time, he would have been the eventual victor. He was winning when they were interrupted, after all, and maybe the childish sense of superiority had blinded him to Inui's true strength. However, being defeated wasn't quite so bitter when his opponent was Inui, who inspired more of competitive feelings for a rival than hostility toward an enemy. But the rest of his team was a different matter.

He wondered if others realized. It was subtle. So subtle, that even he wasn't sure at first. But it was unmistakable. Despite the perfect mimicry, the one who was swaggering lazily on the arena, like a wolf on the prowl, was not Niou. As for 'Yagyuu,' the speed of his sword was a fraction too slow, even if the execution was close to perfection. Seishun's Oishi and Kikumaru were oblivious. Careless of Inui not to warn them. It would be a costly mistake.

A cry rose. 'Niou' had ventured too close to Kikumaru, and even as Oishi was rushing to defend his partner, 'Niou' stepped aside, letting his partner's attack connect solidly, with enough force to send Kikumaru flying backward. Kikumaru didn't move from where he'd fallen.

Referees swiftly filed into the arena, but Kikumaru was well and truly knocked out. Oishi was frantic with worry, and finally, a stretcher was brought out to carry the unconscious Kikumaru out of the arena. Not quite the satisfactory ending they would have preferred, but quick and brutally efficient.

'Niou' was still on the prowl, however, his back hunched dangerously. "Too bad, try again next week," he taunted, and Yanagi had to raise an eyebrow. Someone was in a vicious mood.

"You—! Did you do this on purpose?!" Oishi had to be held back by two referees. The usually calm vice-commander of Seishun, enraged and trying to physically assault an opponent? Yanagi filed away the information for later. Doubles pairs were often protective of their partners, but even for a stable pair, Seishun's Golden Pair seemed unusually attached to each other. And like any strong emotion, such bond could become both a strength and a weakness.

Another wave of tumult rose, and Yanagi looked up, just in time to see Kikumaru lift himself into a handstand on the stretcher and smoothly step down on his feet. Admirable spirit, Yanagi thought, watching Kikumaru return to the arena.

"I'm glad your injury wasn't serious," offered 'Yagyuu,' but 'Niou' only smirked.

"Yeah, because the dangerous part begins now."

Yanagi knew it wasn't an idle threat.

Oishi surprised them with yet another ability, controlling the arena and his partner's movements with the clarity of vision and foresight that was startling to see. But what he knew, and Seishun didn't, was that Rikkai's pair had one more trap to spring.

"Enough playing, Niou-kun," Yagyuu announced, finally revealing their switch, and his partner merely smirked, taking off the wig and sauntering back to Yagyuu's side.

Even Rikkai members were astir. "As I thought, Niou-senpai's scary. But why would the gentleman Yagyuu-senpai go with a trick like that?" Kirihara, apparently recovered from his own loss.

"Did Niou blackmail him with something?" Kuwabara opined, which Kirihara predictably latched on and started talking about how Niou must possess some kind of demonic powers.

Yanagi shook his head. Kirihara had always had his own problems with Niou, who took unholy delight in pulling pranks on their junior, but Yagyuu had been rather upset to hear about the match between Kirihara and Echizen. More specifically, about the fact Kirihara lost. Yagyuu had always had a temper on him, but it appeared he could be more vicious than even Yanagi predicted.

Niou and Yagyuu won their match, but by a margin much narrower than his original calculations. Yanagi mentally updated his notes, then turned his attention to Sanada, who was calmly taking off his surcoat.

"Hey. Are there more monsters like you in the empire?"

Echizen. Completely unaffected by the mounting tension around him. So last time wasn't because the boy didn't know who Sanada was. Possibly the boy really was that fearless.

It was exactly the kind of reckless courage, coupled with immense talent, which would appeal to Sanada the most. Usually. Today, Sanada's eyes were unforgiving. Rikkai had lost two of the five matches, and the two that they won had been no easy victories. The burden of delivering a final win now rested on Sanada. More importantly, Rikkai's pride had been hurt. Seishun, a newcomer, had shown that Rikkai wasn't unbeatable. There had always been dominions that disliked Rikkai's leadership for one reason or another, who would now see a potential leadership that could contend with Rikkai. If not right now, then soon. Outside the empire, Rikkai's name would no longer be synonymous with absolute strength. Yukimura had been right to stress the importance of Rikkai's victory.

For the first time since his loss to Inui, he raised his eyes to look at Yukimura, but Yukimura's eyes were fixed on the arena, expression blank. Sanada himself had already blocked out the rest of the world, his entire being focused on the battle at hand and nothing else. A demon of war, as Yagyuu put it so eloquently. Arguably the strongest warrior within the empire, second only to Yukimura. One of Rikkai's very own Three Demons.

Echizen was hot on the offensive right from the start. As Echizen replicated one move after another, taken from other warriors he'd faced, a thought sent shivers down Yanagi's spine: had Echizen been able to achieve the elusive Muga no Kyoichi – the state of no-self?

"Swift like the wind."

Wind. First of Sanada's four signature moves. Sanada was always serious, but he really wasn't holding back if he was using Fuu-Rin-Ka-Zan this early. It was clear Echizen understood that if he let up on his relentless attacks even for a second, the match would be decided that instant. And the boy was still fiercely energetic and – heaven help them – attempting to find a way to counter Sanada's Wind. That was when Sanada used the Fire.

A groan went through the audience. The opponent was sixteen, little more than a child. Sanada was a veteran hardened by years of warfare in real battlefield. It was undeniably heartless that Sanada would seek to not simply defeat Echizen, but destroy him. Demoralize Echizen to the point he would fear to ever hold a sword again. Even Kirihara looked taken aback. For all that Sanada scolded Kirihara every day, Sanada's goal with Kirihara was always to nurture, not to cut down.

But here, there would be no mercy, no holding back. It would destroy the promising youngster Tezuka had obviously groomed with care. But it would cement Rikkai's position within the empire and forestall any premature strikes from the enemies abroad. It was price that had to be paid.

With a heavy heart, Yanagi resumed his watch.


Dead silence.

One could have heard a pin drop in the utter stillness that reigned over the arena. No one dared to even breathe loudly.

Slowly, laboriously, the Emperor stood, and started to clap.

The claps were measured, almost leisurely, but acted like a hole punched in a dam. The entire arena instantly erupted to an uproar, most of the audience on their feet in a veritable pandemonium. There was disbelief, but also an instinctive awareness in the air, that the delicate balance of power has just shifted. Seishun was now undeniably a player in the empire's center stage.

No dominion was truly naïve enough to believe this victory in the arena meant that Seishun right now was powerful enough to defeat Rikkai in an actual battle. But Seishun had shown that in time, perhaps as little as just a few years, it could grow into such a force. And the Emperor's wizened eyes had missed nothing, not of Tezuka and his team's potential, nor his Empress's interest, not even the ardent response from the audience. Fudomine and Shitenhouji were openly applauding for Seishun, and Rokkaku, Higa and Seiru were joining one by one. His own Hyoutei was shouting encouragement and approval. Even the notoriously neutral Yamabuki was buzzing, cheering for Seishun.

Atobe understood the reaction of the audience. Seishun's desperate struggle and improbable victory had touched a chord in everyone who had watched the tournament. No one who had witnessed their team fight could possibly remain unmoved. Seishun had, with their courage and unbending spirit, managed to sway the very heart of the empire.

But in doing so Seishun had created a dangerous polarity. And – judging from Yukimura's scrupulously expressionless face – Seishun had just made an implacable mortal enemy.

Because Yukimura would tolerate no rival, would suffer no contender for dominance. Ambition, driven by a ruthless will. His own words to Shiraishi rang through his mind, dark and foreboding. Power, wielded with an unyielding strength. The sea could hold only one dragon that would ascend to the sky. And there were now two dragons in the sea.

A storm had blown away the last vestige of fragile calm over the sea. The churning sea was now a stage set for the next chapter for the two dragons.

The battle for the sky.

END OF BOOK III: STORM


Can you guess the subtitle for Book IV? ;)

Book IV: Battle for the Sky has six chapters, and I hope to finish posting all of them by May 2020. However, chapter 17 may be delayed a little while because I conveniently forgot Book IV is where all the problems are. T_T I will need to re-write a big portion (if not the whole) of chapter 17, and probably a few others.

As always, thank you for your patience!