Chapter 3

The training dummy, past survivor of more abuse than it deserved, cracked ominously at the final impact of Kagami's punch - then broke in two to collapse creakily at his feet in a pile of snapped wood and frayed padding.

He stared at the remains of the former dummy, and looked around to find half the training yard gawking at him. Okay, so maybe he'd gone overboard, but it'd clearly been falling apart anyway.

He heard Tsugawa's laugh before he saw him. "All better from that stew yesterday, huh?" he called.

"Speak for yourself," Kagami said. "Didn't you get knocked out too?"

Tsugawa looked pained. "It only paralysed me for a while. I didn't eat enough to get knocked out like you."

They shared the mutual sympathy of fellow sufferers for a grim moment, before he prodded the dummy with a foot and said, "You should probably clear this out and hope they don't try and dock your pay for it."

Kagami pulled a face. "Can't blame me if they don't keep their equipment in better shape," he grumbled, but bent to pick the pieces up and lug them off to the trash pits at the back of the gladiator hall, to be burned later.

Kiyoshi found him just as he was heading back to the training yard, and Kagami eyed him with poorly disguised suspicion. Was he going to say something about the broken dummy? And Kagami wasn't sure if yesterday's stew incident had been on purpose - he probably hadn't expected it to knock Kagami out cold - but from what he'd heard, it wasn't the first time the palace had sent dubious leftovers to the gladiator hall.

Apparently oblivious to Kagami's wary glower, Kiyoshi said with easy cheer, "How are you feeling? I was a pretty worried yesterday, but it looks like you've recovered fine."

Kagami shrugged. "I'm fine, it wasn't really as bad as it looked," he said.

"Haha, that's good to know. I'm really sorry, you know, we've never had that happen before with the food from the palace," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a vaguely puzzled expression. "You were asking about the roster, weren't you? We had a training injury, so there's an open slot today. It's a late morning slot so you won't have much time-"

"I'll take it," Kagami said promptly, before he could change his mind.

"Great!" Kiyoshi said. I'll put your name up on the schedule. You can grab your weapon from the armoury, if you haven't found anything yet."

Kagami nodded. He'd picked his sword from the armoury yesterday, so he didn't need to do much to get ready anyway. The knight waved him off with a parting mention of, "The first fight for the day's about the start, if you're interested in watching."

He returned to the training yard to find it strangely empty. The others must have gone to watch the fight, like Kiyoshi had said. Kagami stared. Sure, the gladiators watched the fights, especially for the good fighters, or opponents they were likely to meet in the ring, but what was so different about this fight that it had everyone's interest?

In the end, he headed to the arena himself, curious to see what was going on. The gladiators didn't get seats above the podium like the paying spectators, but they got a closer view of the fights from the ground level enclosures that surrounded the fighting pit. Kagami jostled through the crowd until he spotted Tsugawa near the front and made his way over.

"What's going on? Who's up?" he asked. The fight hadn't started yet, and the arena beyond the iron-barred gate was empty, though if he looked up, he could see the stands filling up.

"Papa's up for the first round. They say he's up against some mystery masked gladiator no one knows!"

"Masked gladiator?" Kagami said, dubious.

"Yeah, he doesn't have a name, he's just written as 'Unknown' in the lists, and the others say he always fights in a mask. No one knows who he is, but he's definitely not one of us."

"Probably just some bored noble or prince or something," Kagami said, unimpressed. Was this some kind of fashion among the Nijira island aristocracy, posing as gladiators to preen and prove their skills? Maybe they needed better hobbies around here.

"Everyone says he's good, though. He's been fighting for months and he hasn't lost once so far."

Just then, the drums started, a rolling wave of thunder that was too loud to talk over. A final boom of the gongs announced the start of the fight, and the gates on the opposite sides of the arena cranked open. Papa strode into the sunlight, and shaded his eyes to look up at the cheering crowd before giving them a cursory wave. Then his opponent came into view, the crowd roared, and he turned his attention back to the arena.

The mystery masked fighter wore, as promised, a mask of black silk that covered the top half of his face, down to his nose. He was over average height, but not tall, leanly built, and he wore the same plain tunic and trousers that the other gladiators wore. His most distinctive features were his scarlet hair, much brighter than Kagami's, gleaming red-gold under the sun's glare, and the fact that he wore two swords.

The gladiators paused to eye each other across the arena, before crossing the white sand to meet in the middle. Beside Papa's tall, gangly frame, the masked gladiator looked even smaller than he really was. It didn't seem like an even match on the surface, but Kagami thought he sensed power under the masked gladiator's cool purpose, and he had a feeling that this wasn't going to be an easy fight for Papa.

Some gladiators liked to play to the crowds, exchange a few insults before they started. Papa didn't usually bother with the small talk, but his masked opponent today was unusual enough that even he noticed.

"The Nijira islands allow even children into the arena?" he asked in bemused tones, loud enough for the closer spectators to hear him. "That seems unusually barbaric, even for your people."

The masked fighter's only reply was to draw his two swords with a single fluid move and, without a word of warning, close the distance between them.

Papa's chief strengths in a fight were his height and reach; combined with his spearwork, most opponents had a hard time even getting close enough to do much damage before he took them out. He wasn't the fastest fighter though - now, he threw himself back with a yell of surprise, but it was already too late. The masked gladiator knocked his feet out from under him with some movement Kagami couldn't catch, and then Papa was on the ground with a sword through his stomach.

Around him, he felt all the watching gladiators freeze in shock. Even the spectators above had been stunned into silence. You could get some pretty unpleasant fights in the arena, but this had been the single fastest, most merciless fight Kagami had seen yet.

The gong crashed, breaking the silence and signalling the fight was over, and a pair of healers sprinted into the arena, followed by a handful of gladiators to help with the heavy work. They loaded Papa onto a stretcher, sword still buried in his gut because if they removed it now he'd bleed to death, and quickly carried him off. If they were fast enough, Papa could still survive this. Hopefully.

Kagami turned to stare at the masked gladiator, who had stood and watched as the healers took Papa away, leaving him a solitary figure under the spectators' whispering scrutiny. Now, he sheathed his one remaining sword and stalked out of the fighting pit, sparing only a single, icy glance for the watching gladiators before he vanished into the shadows of the enclosures. Around Kagami, the gladiators shook off their shock and a storm of exclamations and discussion was rising.

"What the hell was that?!" "I knew that ruthless bastard was going to pull something like this one day!" "Come on, he's never done something this bad before." "Must have got tired of everyone thinking he's just some noble poser." "Shit, you think Papa's going to make it?" "The healers are pretty good, but he better hope he's lucky."

Who was this guy? Kagami had met some amazing fighters in his time, but fighters who could take spare efficiency and turn it into something like grace - well, he wasn't Himuro's match for that, but he was definitely on a whole different level. Kagami was still feeling pretty sore about being dragged here from Ao, but if there was a chance he'd get to face the masked gladiator in the arena - he bared his teeth in a grin.

Maybe Aka was going to be worth the detour after all.

Akashi recognised the heady, weightless feeling of rage gone too far as he stalked out of the central pit and through the darkened corridor that led to the gladiatorial hall.

He had calculated his attack with pinpoint precision. Thanks to the expertise of Aka's royal healers – trained by the Midorima family themselves - Papa Mbaye Siki would survive today's encounter. Depending on the outcome, his return to the arena might take weeks or months.

In any case, Akashi wouldn't have to look at the man again, which suited him just fine.

He could just imagine the lecture Kuroko Tetsuya would be giving him if his best friend were here right now. Well, Tetsuya wasn't here, and neither was Shuuzou, and Akashi didn't regret what he'd just done.

He very much didn't regret it.

He reached the end of the corridor and climbed the narrow, windowless staircase that led to the walled courtyard at the back of the gladiator hall. From there, he went inside by way of a back door. The building was deserted; all the gladiators were busy watching the next fight.

Akashi went upstairs and headed for Kiyoshi's suite of rooms. The overseer wasn't here – he was in the arena, with the other gladiators – but he'd made a copy of the key for Akashi, on the understanding that it was only to be used on gladiatorial days. Akashi unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Kiyoshi's sitting room was modest but neat. The sliding windows were shut, leaving the room dim, but a little daylight filtered in through the translucent paper screens. Aside from a low table and some cushions stacked up in a corner, there was a wooden clothing chest beside them which Kiyoshi had left for Akashi's use.

The mask was the first to come off, once he had bolted the door behind him. He undid the knotted silk and pulled the black mask away from his hair. Next, he stripped off his bloodied clothing and put on the semiformal kimono and hakama he usually donned as everyday wear, both also made from silk.

Akashi folded up his mask neatly and tucked it into the clothing chest.

The ruined tunic and trousers, he tossed into a corner for Kiyoshi's servants to deal with.

Once dressed, he emerged from Kiyoshi's suite, once again the crown prince of Aka. He locked the door behind him, then slid the key underneath the door, as per the usual arrangement.

From there Akashi went back downstairs, exited the building by way of the side-door, then took a long but carefully-mapped route to the main entrance of the arena. He'd done this half-a-dozen times now and the routine was familiar.

Taking this particular series of side-roads didn't guarantee that he wouldn't run into some knight or palace noble who'd start asking inconvenient questions, but it did minimise the chances.

As usual the stands were packed. Bypassing the spectators, he took a passageway that led around the side of the arena and up to his personal box, where he found the Lady Himuro waiting. She was seated in the shade of an oil-paper parasol affixed to a bamboo stand. A palace attendant stood discreetly behind her.

(This time last year it would have been Tetsuya and Shuuzou accompanying Akashi in the crown prince's box. But today he was alone, and entertaining a stranger.)

The spectators broke out in applause as another fight ended. Akashi stepped into the box and took his seat on the marble bench next to Lady Himuro.

"Milady,"

"Prince Seijuurou." She offered him her usual smile: a minor curve of the lips, demure yet inviting. Today she wore a fern-colored skirt, floor-length; and an umber blouse embroidered with white lotuses.

"Are you enjoying the games?"

"They are most educational," she said, as the central fighting area emptied and the announcements began for the next fight. "I had not expected to see such a broad variety of martial styles and weapons used in a single city."

"The seaports and aerodromes of the Nijira Islands have always brought to our shores innumerable visitors from far and wide," replied Akashi. "We are fortunate that we can draw on the traditions of many lands to enrich our own practices – whether it be fighting or magic or cuisine."

Something flashed in her eyes, briefly. "I look forward to seeing what the capital of Rakuzan has to offer."

The gongs resounded, and a cheer went out across the stands. The next pair of gladiators were coming out. The first one emerged from the gate at one end. Long-haired, with a red headband tied across his forehead. Akashi recognised him as Tanaka, one of the midlist fighters: not unusually skilled, but not weak either. As usual, he fought with trident and net.

The other fighter, young and russet-haired, must be an import from Ao. Muscular and tall, though not as tall as Akashi's opponent from this morning.

His weapon of choice interested Akashi, however. A heavy straightsword, forged in the Teikou style and wielded two-handed; it must have been the only one of its kind available in the gladiatorial armoury. The palace supplied the gladiators with weapons, but only with second-rate ones. The combatants who weren't indentured to the throne usually chose to bring their own swords, but the rest of the fighters didn't have much of a choice.

This young man – almost a boy, really; he appeared to be Akashi's own age – seemed to know what he was doing though, despite the undoubted inferiority of his weapon. He held his sword with grace as he bowed to his opponent, his long blade tucked discreetly to one side – and then the second gong signalling the beginning of combat began, and he went on the attack.

The crowd was on his side. Crowds were predictable: they liked young and attractive fighters. (They especially liked female gladiators, but no woman had fought in the Rakuzan lists for several years now, not since the crown princess of Murasaki had decided she would compete in every royal arena in Nijira.)

It was a swift strike, but completely transparent; Tanaka dodged easily. The red-haired gladiator swung his blade again, and this time struck metal. There was an exchange of blows, sword against trident.

The red-haired fighter's blade glanced off the trident's handle and for a moment there was a pause. Tanaka had been driven back towards the edge of the area, closer to where Akashi and Lady Himuro were sitting.

Akashi saw something glinting on a chain around the red-haired fighter's neck. Some kind of pendant? It couldn't be enchanted, or else it wouldn't have passed Kiyoshi's scrutiny.

Tanaka cast his net aside – as he should have from the beginning, if he'd had the proper measure of his opponent. The trident-and-net combination was showy, good for entertaining an audience, but it was inefficient.

The outcome of this match was clear.

Lady Himuro said, "What a pity. I bet a silver coin on Tanaka to win. But that was without having seen either of them fight."

"You have good eyes," said Akashi. He had expected her to have some knowledge of martial arts; wealthy foreign women did not travel alone in the Nijira Islands without means of self-defense.

"Not as good as yours, I hear," she said. "Are the rumours true, that the Aka royal family possess the gift of magical sight?"

Below, in the arena, the two gladiators circled each other, catching their breath.

Akashi said: "Milady, I can hardly divulge to you all of Nijira's secrets in a single day."

Again, the red-haired fighter moved first, surprisingly graceful. Tanaka barely managed to block the sword as it came arcing towards him.

Said the Lady Himuro: "The red-haired novice gladiator fights well."

"He's overeager and he leaves openings. He's fortunate Tanaka doesn't have the speed or the intelligence to take advantage of them."

"He's by far the best fighter I have seen this morning." She turned to meet his eyes. "Except for one."

Akashi didn't blink. "You are referring to the masked gladiator. He has been making quite the stir in the lists this month. I am sorry I missed the chance to watch him."

"A young masked boy with a dual-wield technique, katana and wakizashi. Not the sword style one would expect to see in a gladiatorial competition filled with indentured slaves and mercenaries in search of prize money."

"We get all sorts here," Akashi said. His participation in the Rakuzan arena was not a complete secret, but it was nevertheless important to keep the matter discreet. Furthermore, Lady Himuro seemed unusually inquisitive for a Teikou noblewoman.

Shouts of encouragement sounded among the spectators. Tanaka had fallen, the red-haired gladiator's blade to his throat. It was over.

Lady Himuro turned to the palace attendant beside her. "Could you find out for me the name of the gladiator who just won? I would love to fight him."

"Foreign visitors are always welcome to participate in our contests," Akashi told her. "At their own risk, of course."

In answer, she smiled, elegant and opaque.

It was taking a while, but Furihata Kouki was beginning to piece the puzzle together.

Some of it, anyway. The new head cook and her four chefs were careful and close-lipped around the kitchen hands, so getting direct information from them was impossible. There were clues here and there, however, even though Kouki hadn't figured out where they fit yet.

Firstly there was Riko. She might not be able to cook, but she was sharp as a tack. In the space of two or three days she'd figured out the kitchen routine down pat: mealtimes, banquets, logistics, negotiating with the wagons from the local farms that came each morning, bringing their largesse of fruit and vegetables, eggs and milk.

She kept the kitchen larders carefully stocked, even accounting for the ridiculous waste that ensued when her recipes failed, and she'd set up a large writing slate at one end of the kitchen, on which she wrote all the required meals and events the kitchen had to cater for, so that everyone was prepared ahead of time.

If it weren't for the fact that Kouki was currently the fourth-best cook in the kitchen (and he was no trained chef), life would actually be better under Riko's regime than it had been under the old head cook.

She was young, no more than a year or two older than Kouki himself; and the other four chefs – Mitobe, Izuki, Hyuuga, and Koganei – seemed to be about her age.

All five of them spoke with a mild but unmistakable upper-class Murasaki accent. Had the Murasakibara decided to send assassins against the king and queen of Aka? It seemed unlikely. Prince Seijuurou had always been on good terms with the Murasaki princes and princesses.

The pretty-faced chef with a propensity to crack awful jokes, Izuki Shun, seemed to be a spellcaster of some sort. He'd used his magic to clean up one or two of Riko's disasters; Kawahara and Fukuda had watched in awe as a mere incantation transformed a fishy and oversalted broth into a fragrant, delicate clear soup.

There weren't too many schools of magic in Nijira. There was one on Aka, in the city of Rakuzan itself; but it was a small school and Kouki had grown up on this island. He was fairly sure he'd recognise any student who had come from that college.

Neighbouring Midori had at least three schools of magic – but far-off Murasaki to the east was also famous for its spellcasters.

What did Riko and her friends want?

Kouki wondered for the fiftieth time, as he sliced through the usual several dozen scallions for the day, whether he ought to report this to someone.

If only Kuroko Tetsuya or the Nijimura were still staying in Aka Palace! Kouki would almost prefer being arrested to approaching Steward Mibuchi or Prince Seijuurou about this.

His train of thought was interrupted by Riko's voice, bright and sharp and clear, calling out over the din of the kitchen: "Furihata!"

Kouki was so startled he nearly sliced the skin off his knuckles. "Yes?" he said, whirling around.

"Can I get you to go down to the palace herb garden and collect more green shiso? The first batch of soba noodles... didn't quite work out," she said, shamelessly. The first half-dozen times Riko had ruined a palace dish, she'd blushed. Now she simply solved the problem when it arose, usually through delegation, daring her underlings by the glint in her eye to offer criticism if they were brave enough.

Kouki was definitely not brave enough. He nodded, stammered, and within seconds was out of the kitchen on his way to the culinary gardens.

He liked visiting the palace herb and vegetable gardens. They were small and neat, and always smelled green and tantalising. The royal gardeners usually took care of them, but the kitchen hands helped as well. Kouki had been working in the palace kitchen for nearly a year and by now knew exactly which herbs, edibles, and fruits grew here.

He stepped out from between the yew hedges that bordered these small gardens and then paused. There was a woman there, dressed in Teikou-style finery. At first glance she looked familiar. At second glance – she looked up, turning when she sensed Kouki's presence – she looked beautiful.

Skin fair as jade, hair black as ebony. Her eyes transfixed Kouki's gaze – they were midnight-dark, daylight-clear.

"Hello," she said. Her voice was low, almost husky.

"G-g-g-good afternoon," said Furihata, his words almost a squeak. It was then he remembered where he'd seen this lady; she'd dropped by the kitchen yesterday to compliment the kitchen on the food at the queen's luncheon.

He hadn't seen her up close yesterday, though.

"You must be one of the kitchen servants," she said. "I am Himuro Tatsuko of Teikou. Is it okay if I have a look around?"

"Um, no. I mean, of course." Furihata wished he could sink into the ground. Hurriedly he remembered to bow, and then bowed again for good measure. "You are very welcome here, Lady Himuro."

She smiled a sharp smile. "What is your name?"

"Furihata Kouki. Please call me Kouki."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Kouki." She bent low then, and then reached out to pluck a leaf of trefoil and then breathe in its scent. "What a refreshing herb this is. The spices and medicines of Nijira are entirely new to me."

"That's trefoil," said Furihata, gratefully seizing on the distraction to force his attention away from her long graceful fingers and the elegant shadow of her collarbones. "Also known as wild parsley, although it has a milder scent. It's good in soup and salads, but it's also used in medicinal tonics, particularly for women."

"Hmm. How fascinating." She let the small leaf flutter down to the garden path they were standing on. "I see that even the kitchen hands of Nijira have educations worth mentioning."

Kouki was bright red now. "That's not-" he began. "I really don't know that much-"

"I realise you must be busy, but could you spare me a few minutes for a tour of this small garden?" she said, glancing at him. Her gaze was gentle, inquiring, curious.

Her smile was merciless.

Furihata could barely manage breathing, let alone thinking.

"Of course I will," he said.

End Chapter 3