Mordred crossed her arms as Frankenstein pulled up her first fight with Shiki Ryougi. Her eyes narrowed as the screen showing their stats flew over the far shot of the cage. Frankenstein sat at an arm's length next to her as the camera zoomed in on Mordred's pre-fight glare, the first time Mordred saw her own eyes before a fight. She took in a deep breath whenever she and Shiki came within striking range of each other. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wished that the fight would have a different ending than what she remembered, that the flash kick was a false memory that would correct itself as she viewed the footage.

The television's light flooded the dark room as the Shinjuku streets outside sat quiet. As the fight clock ticked down, Mordred squirmed, licked her teeth behind her lips, and scratched at her neck. Frankenstein fought the urge to glance at her. She kept her eyes glued to the fight to help find any hints that would help Mordred in the next bout, bouncing her attention between Shiki's movements and Mordred's strikes. Mordred bit on her finger as the clock approached the last seconds before her loss.

The final kick came, and the tension in Mordred's body washed away like marks on a shore covered by a wave. She sighed and shook her head as Frankenstein closed the video. Fran sat next to her, an arm around her shoulders as Mordred took her hand and rubbed it.

"You okay?" Fran asked as she squeezed Mordred's shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Mordred replied, her eyes at the ground. "It's gonna be a long six weeks, though. Might even have to watch that fight a few more times."

Fran leaned her chin against Mordred's head. "You'll win."

Mordred grinned and reached up to caress Fran's cheek. "Yeah, I know."

The training camp began with Lancer at the helm. He mimicked Shiki's evasive, precise style of striking and footwork. Mordred entered their sparring sessions with an absorbing glare as she watched how he moved and when he struck. She gritted her teeth whenever he landed a shot on her and when he avoided one of her own. When she managed to land a solid hit, she drilled the same movements until she knew them by heart. Lancer countered her memorized best shots every so often, forcing her to come up with new plans each round.

The first month flew by as Mordred sharpened her strikes up to her elbows and knees. Two weeks before the day of the fight, she and her team flew out and rebased the fight camp. Mordred arrived with bruises on her arms and legs that ached throughout the flight. When she and Frankenstein arrived at their room, she tossed her suitcase onto the bed and stared out the window overlooking the city. Her hands rested on her hips as she stared at the buildings below them.

"Let's see, twelve days 'til the press conference," Mordred noted. "Thirteen before weigh-ins, and then the fight. Kinda wish we had more time to check out the city, though."

Frankenstein nodded. "Good to focus, though."

"Yeah, I know. Can't say I'm looking forward to the press conference, though."

Frankenstein tilted her head before sitting down on the bed. "Even less than fight?"

Mordred shrugged. "I'm ready for the fight, I just don't know what the hell I'm supposed to say at the press conference."

Frankenstein nodded again. "No reason to prepare. Best to play by ear."

Mordred chuckled. "Good point. I guess all I need to do is not sound stupid."

Fran smiled and lied down. Mordred jumped beside her and steered their talk away from the impending fight. They spoke of the city, the places they wanted to see before they had to fly back to Japan, and the other fighters from Chaldea. The fight left Mordred's mind for the afternoon until she went down to the gym to keep herself sharp. Fog in the gym's windows, produced from the sweat from the fighters and coaches, hid the outside city as Mordred sought new counters to Lancer's strikes. Twelve days passed in the fogged-up gym. Mordred found herself sitting at a long table, a microphone stuck near her mouth as an audience of journalists and photographers stared at the collection of fighters.

Mordred sat on the far left side. She glanced to her right and saw Shiki at the furthest right. Shiki stared out into the crowd, her black eyes landing nowhere in particular at the opposite end of the media room. Murmurs buzzed in the crowd as they caught a glimpse of Mordred's face. As the trailing whispers reached her ears, Mordred craned her neck the other way in a feigned stretch.

The mutterings in the crowd died down as Kotomine Kirei took to the center podium. Shutters from cameras clicked around the room among the silent and shut mouths. Kirei stood with his hands behind his back, his head lowered to the microphone. He scanned the room of journalists with a faint grin. His eyes slithered to the fighters around him, and for one moment, Mordred felt his pupils pierce through her own.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Grail Wars press conference," Kotomine said, his bassy voice resonating through the speakers. Mordred maintained a smirk as the crowd applauded. "We will begin with our main event fighters."

Mordred drowned out the noise around her. She and Shiki were slotted into the co-main event, a spot she thought herself above with her opponent's calibre. While she kept silent about it in public, Fran and her coaches heard her mutterings of disappointment firsthand. Her thoughts went adrift as the main event fighters - a Greek behemoth named Hercules and a Chinese heavyweight named Lu Bu - shouted back and forth at each other. Every now and then, one of the two giants dug up a creative insult that made her chuckle. It was not until Kotomine asked if anyone had a question for Shiki that her attention snapped back into the room.

"Miss Ryougi," a journalist asked. "What made you accept this rematch with Pendragon?"

Shiki glanced at the microphone. She shifted her gaze back to the reporter before answering, "It's clear to all that Mordred has improved herself since we last met in the cage. I don't know what her mindset was during our fight, but the woman I knocked out then isn't the one I will be facing this week. That being said, the result will be the same, even if it does not take as long."

Mordred's eyes narrowed, her fingernails dragging on the tabletop.

"Beyond that, however," Shiki continued. "She was one of the few women who would accept to face me. I find her courage admirable, even if it might be misplaced."

"Don't get too far ahead of yourself, Shiki," Mordred interrupted. "You managed to catch the weakest and slowest version of me that night, and you still haven't had a shot at the championship since then. You wouldn't be able to pull that off against my sister, and you will have even less of a chance on Saturday."

Shiki's blank face turned to Mordred. "Your fragile ego and troubled mind is not an excuse for your loss."

Mordred smirked with a one-sided grin. "Please; even the fastest car can't beat a bike if the gas tank is empty."

Shiki shook her head. "Next question."

Hesitation fell over the room. Kirei stood on his podium, his hands behind his back and his mouth curled into a sinister smile as another journalist stood. "Shiki," the journalist said. "What are you expecting from Mordred, this version of her, once the fight begins?"

"Hm," Shiki hummed into her microphone, a mix of annoyance and uninterest in her voice. "I'm expecting a brat who wants to prove a point, one that will only prove something she's been trying to hide from herself. Mordred lacks the true discipline of a fighter, the mental fortitude of a champion, and the heart to continually endure. Yes, she may stand after being knocked down, but I do not believe she will reinforce herself as she believes."

"Only took three sentences to show you don't know anything about me," Mordred cut in. "I'm not afraid to admit I've lost before; I'd be stupid to deny it. But if you think that I'm gonna curl up in that cage with you, then you haven't seen what I've done to even get into Grail Wars."

Shiki grinned. "I'm not pretending to know you; I'm telling you what I see."

Mordred sneered, leaning back in her chair as she waited for another question to come Shiki's way. However, she sat up straight when a reporter called her name and asked, "Who else in the rankings interested you as a potential opponent?"

"Artoria," Mordred replied, getting a small giggle out of the crowd. "But that'll come in time. Strawweight is a crowded division, and most of the top fifteen was matched up already. Shiki was the only one available who would throw down, though, and I wasn't gonna wait for someone to fall into my lap. Not gonna be a champion if I sit around waiting for scrubs, after all."

"So would you have taken the chance to fight your sister if she accepted?"

Mordred raised an eyebrow. "Yes, you dolt, that was the first thing I said." A handful of the reporters snorted as they stifled their chuckles. "Listen, I don't know how much you people know, but to beat Artoria for the belt is my ultimate goal as a fighter. Who I have to beat and how I have to worm my way there is nothing but an afterthought."

"Lacking in mental fortitude, just as I thought," Shiki said. The heads in the audience turned to her, and Mordred's brow furrowed a bitter grimace spread on her face. "She is focused on a woman who has yet to lay a finger on her, likely due to a minor comment made in their childhood. A fragile ego indeed; she cannot see two days from now yet gazes into an impossible future."

"Judging by your clothes, you can't seem to see fashion outside the fifteen hundreds," Mordred remarked. "You're like a bug in the windshield, Shiki; all you're doing is blocking the view of where I need to go."

Shiki leaned back in her seat, staring at the microphone in front of her with indifference. "If my clothes are all you can target, I fear how poorly you'll fare in our rematch."

Mordred's eyebrow twitched. She and Shiki traded verbal barbs between questions a few minutes more before Kirei directed the audience to other fighters. The conference continued another twenty minutes more before Kotomine announced its conclusion. As each man and woman stood from the tables, Mordred glanced Shiki's way, a grin across her face. Shiki cast her eyes Mordred's way, though her gaze never fell directly on her. All her face revealed was a bare hint of a smile before she turned away, raising her hand in a single wave.

The Chaldea team greeted Mordred as she met them in the hall. Lancer gave her a high-five as she joined the group. They made their way to the parking garage, passing by other fighters and their entourages. Most offered a wave, a hello, or a good day, though some stalked down the halls with their heads low and eyes peering from deep brows.

"You really got into it with Ryougi," Boudica remarked as they searched for the garage.

"Bah, she's like that with everyone," Mordred said. "Nothing said tonight will matter in a couple of days, anyways."

"Just keep your cool in the cage," Scathach said. "The game plan we have should drag you kicking and screaming to a win if you follow it to the letter."

"Yeah, yeah, I know; no wasted movements and all that."

Scathach pursed her lips while Mordred elbowed her in the ribs. They returned to the hotel where Mordred ate a light dinner to keep herself below the weight limit. When the weigh-ins came the next day, she stepped onto the scale with her arms out and a laugh ringing out from her diaphragm. She stepped off the scale and bounced around from one foot to another as Shiki took to the scale. Shiki bowed as the fight was made official and stood before Mordred with her hands at her side. Mordred raised her fists as the cameras flashed, leaving them up until Kotomine separated them. The two fighters, both with a glint in their eyes, bowed to each other before posing before the crowd, the final calm before they would meet in the cage in one day.