"Alright, team huddle time," Nuthea said to everyone when she had got them all assembled down in the dugout. The tournament officials didn't seem to mind that they were all congregating in the stuffy, sandy-floored chamber even though they technically weren't all combatants.

"What's a 'team huddle'?" asked Riss, the Carnelian-touched girl that she and Ryn had found at the theatre.

"It's this," said Ryn, holding up his hands for Nuthea and Sagar to slot in shoulder-to-shoulder to either side of him. The party all formed up into the huddle, making a close face-to-face circle, and Riss and Quel, though they hesitated at first, got the hang of it easily enough, even if Cid and Elrann had to stoop slightly to fit the girl in.

"Right," said Nuthea. She needed to be quick, as after Cid had healed Huld the Governor had said they only had five minutes to gather themselves before the next match. "Let's review how things stand: Ryn, Captain Sagar, and Shadowfinger Vish, you all won your Quarter-Final matches–well done!"

Ryn showed her a close-lipped smile and nodded. "Thanks."

Sagar grunted the barest acknowledgement, scowling and looking away out of the huddle. He appeared to be sulking about something.

Vish just blinked.

Nuthea suppressed a sigh. "Grandfather Cid will heal all of you too so that you're ready to fight again, since the Tournament is going to be carrying on straight away."

"Why do you think the Governor changed his mind about that?" asked Ryn, wasting time.

"I'm not sure," said Nuthea. "I'm just glad he did. It's probably something to do with the change in the weather and all the clouds that are gathering. That has gone in our favour."

"Yeah, what's the deal with that?" said Elrann. She looked over at Quel, the hooded bard. "You have water powers, right, musicman? Are you something to do with this?"

Quel shook his head, the blue hair of his fringe quivering. "No, Mistress Elrann," he said, "it has nothing to do with me. Sapphire-wielders can manipulate water in its gaseous as well as liquid and solid form, it is true, but it would take quite a lot of us to influence the course of an entire weather system, and I am just one man."

"Never mind that now," said Nuthea, eager to move the conversation on to talking about tactics, "what's important is that the Governor has decided that the tournament can conclude today. Now, the two semi-finals will be Ryn against Shadowfinger Vish and Captain Sagar against Brother Huld. Sagar against Huld is straightforward enough, as we know who we want to win–"

"Do you think you can take him, Sagar?" Ryn asked the skypirate, cutting Nuthea off rudely.

"Hm?" said Sagar, his attention coming back from wherever it had been. "Oh, yeah, you had better damn well bet I can take him. I'm not afraid of Baldy. I'm going to take him down."

"You are aware, aren't you," Grandfather Cid put in before Nuthea could get another word in and regain control of the discussion, "from our sojourn in the Earth Temple, that the element of wind is completely ineffectual against the element of earth, in combat terms?"

Sagar blew the air out through his nostrils. "Yeah, I know that, old timer. But that don't mean I can't use my powers to my advantage all the same. Just you watch. I'll beat him without just blowing him over."

"If you're sure…" said Cid.

"Anyway," said Nuthea, "what is more pressing for us to talk about is Ryn and Shadowfinger Vish's match, since both of you are in our party."

"What is there to talk about?" said Sagar. "Much as I hate to say it, the scumsucker is clearly the better fighter. You should just let him win," he said to Ryn, "and be done with it."

"Hey!" said Ryn, and the air in the huddle got a little warmer. "Shut up, Sagar! Vish may have been fighting longer, but I have fire projection!"

"Well it's not like it matters, anyway," Sagar said, "as I'm just going to thrash whichever one of you goes through in the Final anyway."

"Shadowfinger Vish," Nuthea said, getting in before Ryn could rise any further to Sagar's posturings, "what do you think is the best course of action to take?"

Vish regarded her coolly above his face covering. "It makes no difference to me, girl," he said. "Tell me what you want me to do, and I will do it. I will win this battle, I will lose this battle, I will stay out of the Final, I will go into the Final–whichever. All I care about is that you give me some more poppy when this is done. As long as you do that, I will do whatever you want."

Nuthea saw Cid stop himself from saying something then.

"Okay…" she said. She knew that Vish was by far the more experienced and better fighter, of course. But she didn't want to hurt Ryn's feelings. "Well, what would you rather do, Ryn?"

"Well, I think that–"

"People of Farr!" came the shouting voice of the tournament announcer from outside all of a sudden. "For your first semi-final, I give you Ryn of Efstan versus Vish of Aibar!"

"Was that really five minutes?!" said Ryn.

Nuthea was almost relieved.

"I–" Ryn started again.

"There's no time!" Nuthea said, breaking the huddle. "Quick, get out there into the arena! I'm sure you'll figure it out! Er, good luck!"

Ryn and Vish walked off in the direction of the entry tunnel, cajoled by the announcer, who had appeared at is opening them to hurry them out.

As Ryn looked briefly over his shoulder at her like a wounded cub, Nuthea ignored the twinge of guilt that issued in her chest.

"Begin!" shouted the announcer.

Neither of them moved. Vish just stood there in his black uniform and head covering, eyes bleary and bloodshot. He didn't even bother adopting a fighting posture.

A memory flared unbidden in Ryn's mind, of the first time he had fought Vish. How the Shadowfinger had suddenly fallen upon him and the others in the woods outside Ast, how he had been vicious, methodical and deadly, in the end only stopped in his tracks by an unexpected pistol-shot from Elrann.

Did Ryn really have any kind of chance in a contest of hand-to-hand combat against such a skilled and highly trained fighter as Vish?

Probably not, no; not even if I have trained hard and gotten a lot better at fighting since then.

But Ryn did have something which Vish didn't.

Damn him if he was going to use it straight away though.

Ryn ran at Vish, crossing the arena floor in a matter of moments, and punched him in the face.

To his surprise the punch connected, its impact flashing across Ryn's knuckles, and Vish's head snapped back. The Shadowfinger took a couple of steps backwards, then steadied himself.

Huh?

Nobody in the audience cheered, or made any kind of noise. They were as confused as Ryn.

Investigating, he stepped forwards and kicked the Shadowfinger in the chest with his right foot, using a kick that Vish himself had taught him. Vish grunted, taking the force of the blow, and stepped back a few more paces. Ryn followed through with a right-left alternating combination of punches and finished with an elbow strike, using another sequence that Vish had taught him himself.

Every blow connected. They did not seem to do the Shadowfinger much harm, but he took the full force of each one, shuffling backwards with the impact and coming to rest a couple of paces away.

"What are you doing?" Ryn whispered to the Shadowfinger, hoping that nobody else would be able to hear.

"What do you mean, 'what am I doing'?'" Vish replied, having the courtesy to keep his voice low too.

"Why aren't you fighting me properly?"

The Shadowfinger shrugged. "You didn't say yet what you wanted me to do in this match."

"I want you to fight me!" Ryn hissed.

The Shadowfinger raised one dark eyebrow above his face covering. "Are you sure?"

"Yes! Don't go easy on me just because we know each other! That won't impress anybody, and it might get us disqualified for cheating!"

The other eyebrow raised. "You are really sure?" Vish asked again.

"Yes!"

"Alright, then."

Ryn took two steps forward and swung a right hook at Vish.

The Shadowfinger sidestepped this punch as easily as if he was taking part in a the learned steps of a dance.

And then his leg lashed out.

Ryn lifted up into the air, came down, hit the ground on his back and rolled a few times.

Then he felt the pain. He curled up, clutching his stomach, which ached horribly where Vish had kicked him.

Now the crowd cheered. The noise of it filled his ears, hurting him even more than the kick had. Why were they cheering for Vish, and not him? Ryn supposed that Vish's attack had had a bit more of an effect than his own…

"One!" called the announcer, beginning the count.

Ryn pressed his hands to the arena floor and shakily pushed himself up onto his feet, stomach still smarting.

Vish was standing way over where he had kicked the boy from. He had kicked Ryn so hard that he had flown across half the arena. He hadn't even realised because he had been so stunned by the blow.

And yet, he sensed that the Shadowfinger had still held something back. Vish could have finished this match in one blow had he wanted to, as he had done his last match.

Fire rose in Ryn's chest, but he willed it down and breathed out, letting the energy dissipate through his nostrils. He wouldn't resort to it yet. He had more pride than that.

He ran at Vish again, this time arriving with a jumping kick–another move that the Shadowfinger had taught him.

Vish stepped lazily out of the way, and countered with a punch to Ryn's chest, quick and precise as a pistol-shot.

This time Ryn hit the arena floor so hard that he flipped over on it, landing face down, seeing stone. Searing pain in his chest joined the pain in his stomach. Had Vish broken one of his ribs?

"Three!" he heard the announcer call over the noise of the crowd. This time he had been so stunned that he hadn't heard the first two counts. Had he blacked out for a moment?

"Four!"

Ryn managed to force himself up by the count of "Five!"

He gave a few agonising coughs and some blood came out of his mouth and ran down his chin. He wiped it away with the back of a hand.

Vish stood a few paces away in front of him.

"Are you sure that you want me to fight you?" the Shadowfinger whispered, inclining his head forwards inquisitively. "It does not seem to be going very well for you."

Fire rising again. "Yes!" Ryn growled through gritted teeth.

"Would you like me to hit you out of bounds to get it done quickly?"

"Just shut up and fight me properly, Vish!" Ryn shouted, no longer caring if the audience heard. "Fight me as if I was a regular opponent! Treat me like a man, not a little boy!"

Some people in the audience laughed.

"Raaargh!" Ryn thrust out two hands and launched a fireball at Vish from only paces away.

The Shadowfinger's eyes went wide and he cartwheel-flipped to the side, turning over in the air as the fireball rushed past the place where he had just been standing and out over the heads of the crowd, who gasped and ducked.

As Vish landed, Ryn chucked another fireball at him, then another and another. He aimed these ones slightly downwards, at Vish's feet, so that when the Shadowfinger dodged out of the way of them they hit the arena floor, scorching it black.

In moments Ryn had the Shadowfinger running and leaping around the arena to get out of the way of his fireballs, which he hurled again and again at him, lost in the fury of his assault, listening with pleasure as the crowd now murmured and marvelled at his own attacks.

Vish was incredibly fast and agile, but he couldn't keep this up forever. Could he?

The Shadowfinger executed a somersaulting leap to get out of the way of a fireball that came dangerously close to hitting him, sending him particularly high.

Ryn saw where he was going to land.

He flung his hand out, launching yet another fireball at the spot.

Vish came down exactly where Ryn had predicted, and the fireball hit him in the legs, engulfing them in an orange burst for a moment.

"Ahhhh!" Vish cried out, and fell to the ground, rolling over a few times from the momentum of his leap, which also served to put out the flames around his legs.

Ryn grimaced. His smiling satisfaction at the hit had been immediately tempered by the worry that he might have hurt Vish.

Some fighter I am, he thought.

But the Shadowfinger quickly patted out the remaining flames on his trousers that hadn't been extinguished by his roll, then sprang back to his feet and ran back across the arena, straight at Ryn.

Straight at Ryn, who was too shocked by the speed of Vish's reaction to get out of the way in time.

Ryn lit himself on fire.

Vish stopped just in time, halting in place just in front of Ryn with his fist held back ready behind his body, but not following through with his punch.

The crowd made "Ooooh" and "Ahhhh"-ing noises at Ryn, and he smiled. He couldn't help himself from enjoying them.

"Ingenious…" Vish said, staying still where he was as the red and orange flames flickered all around Ryn's body, enveloping him in a fiery aura. "If you are covered in fire, it will burn me to touch you. Although I might still be able to hit you hard enough once to knock you out of bounds or incapacitate you without burning myself too much. Is that a chance you are willing to take, boy? And what of your so-called 'mana', that the old man is always talking about? How long before that runs out?"

That was a fair point, but Ryn wasn't about to be cowed and concede it openly. Now that he was using his fire projection, he might actually have a chance against Vish, and at preserving his pride.

"I think the real question," he replied, "is how long you will last against me while I am using my fire. I've been working hard at training and growing stronger with it. And Nuthea told me that every time I've fought and pushed myself to my limit and used all my mana up, my capacity has increased and I've grown stronger with it."

Vish nodded, accepting the retort. "Then this may actually be something of a more even fight, now," he said.

Ryn bristled at that–what an extremely arrogant thing to say. But he knew that Vish wasn't baiting him really, he was just stating a fact. It didn't seem in the Shadowfinger's nature to gloat or take particular pleasure in his superior fighting ability over others. All he really seemed to care about was poppy seed.

"Looks like it w–" Ryn said, but then immediately broke off when the Shadowfinger suddenly stepped forwards and followed through with his original punch, taking Ryn completely by surprise.

Vish's fist connected hard with the centre of Ryn's chest, pain blossoming across it.

He was knocked backwards and lost his balance, stumbling over his own feet, his fire-aura extinguished. His right foot slipped on the edge of something, and his left foot joined it.

The edge of the arena! He hadn't realised how close to it he had been. And his momentum was about to carry him out of bounds!

Ryn teetered on the edge of the stone tile, waving his arms around in circles to try to regain his balance. But it was no use. He was going to fall backwards.

As he began to fall, Ryn stretched out his arms behind him, flattened his palms, and projected fire from them.

The nearby audience members gasped and shouted in alarm as flames flew out of his hands, the force of them thrusting his body upwards and forwards and back into the arena.

The Shadowfinger had hopped back a few paces and was shaking his fingers up and down on the hand that he had just hit Ryn with. He looked genuinely surprised when he saw Ryn coming back towards him.

Ryn kept on going, turning his propelled movement into a run, and lit himself on fire again.

He lowered his head and charged into Vish, hitting him in the chest with the top of his head like a flaming human battering-ram.

"Ungh!" grunted Vish, from the impact of the blow or the heat of the flames, Ryn did not know.

The Shadowfinger fell on his back and Ryn came to a stop standing over him, still on fire. Acting on instinct, he held out his hand where he stood, palm in front of Vish's face.

The crowd cheered for him now.

One God, please let Nuthea be watching, he thought. Please let Nuthea be watching.

"One!" the announcer began his count since Vish was down and on his back.

"Move, and I'll engulf you in fire," Ryn said through the flames that radiated from his body.

Sweat trickled down Vish's forehead and into his eyes, behind the black folds of his face-covering. "We both know you will not do that, boy," the Shadowfinger said, looking up at him as he pushed himself up onto his elbows so that the announcer stopped his count.

Ryn hesitated. Well, that's probably true. Wasn't it? Of course it is. But he was doing so well. I'm on the point of beating Vish.. If I can win this fight, maybe I could win the Grand Final too…

"You don't know that for sure…" Ryn said carefully. "Even if I hit you point-blank with a fire attack, Cid can always heal you afterwards..."

"But do you know that for sure, boy?" Vish said. "What if you accidentally kill me? You've killed Imperial soldiers with fire attacks at greater distance. The old man won't be able to bring me back from death."

Ryn opened his mouth, but he didn't really have a response to that.

"Go on," said Vish, more quietly this time so that nobody else would be able to hear. "Do it. Trust me, boy, you'll be doing me a favour. You'll be ending my endless cycle of hunting and seeking for poppy seed and then taking it and then trying not to do it again. I am probably never going to change anyway." He had Ryn fixed with his grey eyes.

Ryn faltered. Was Vish seriously asking him to end his life, in cold bold? There was no way in Mid he would ever do that. He had made that decision once already, and that had been before Vish had become one of their travelling companions and fought alongside him, as one of them, and saved his life multiple times.

"You're right." Ryn sighed, though he still kept his hand held out in front of him. "We both know that I'm not going to do that. So why don't you just yield? What other option do you have?"

Vish snorted through his face covering. "If you're not going to kill me I may have more options than you think, boy. It is clever, making yourself go on fire, I will grant you that. It makes it harder for me to hit you. But I discovered two things in our little exchange just now: One, you need to concentrate in order to keep yourself on fire. And two, if I hit you fast enough I can avoid burning myself too much."

Ryn gulped. Suddenly he felt very worried.

Vish pushed himself upwards with his elbows and twisted, sweeping Ryn's legs with his foot.

Ryn fell on his side, hitting the stone of the arena floor painfully. He had been caught so off guard he hadn't reacted in time.

He scrambled back up onto his feet as quickly as he could, but the Shadowfinger wasn't in front of him anymore.

A black-clothed arm wrapped tightly around his neck from behind, trapping him in its crook.

It was only then that Ryn realised that his fire had gone out again, from the shock of having his legs swept out from underneath him.

Oh dear, he thought.

Vish strengthened his chokehold, constricting Ryn's neck, and the boy gasped for air. He found some, but only a little.

"See?" Vish said menacingly in his ear. "One quick little sweep kick, a heartbeat to sneak behind you, and I have you. Just like that."

Vish gave a little squeeze, showing Ryn that he could cut off his air supply completely if he willed.

Ryn choked.

The Shadowfinger loosened his grip a fraction again, just enough for Ryn to find some air again. The boy gasped.

"There you go," said Vish quietly, "I have done what you asked: I have fought you properly. I expect to be rewarded with poppy seed later. Now, I suggest that you yield, so that we can finish this in the smoothest possible manner."

Ryn gripped Vish's arm tight and pulled at it, trying to wrench it off of himself, but the Shadowfinger was too strong. He kept willing for fire to explode out of his body, like it had apparently done when Rogar the Unsurpassable had squeezed him unconscious, but nothing happened. Maybe he had to actually pass out in order to activate his secret reserves. Maybe his focus was too consumed by trying to breathe to be able to concentrate on the flames enough. Maybe on some level he still still didn't want to hurt Vish. Maybe I'm out of mana.

"Vish…" Ryn croaked between frantic gasps for air. "Before…I yield…can I…just ask you…one thing?"

"What?" spoke the Shadowfinger in Ryn's ear, vaguely curious. His grip on Ryn's throat loosened just ever so slightly–not enough for Ryn to break the hold, but just enough for Ryn to speak a little more easily.

"If Huld beats Sagar and ends up in the Final against you, do you think you can beat him?

A pause. "I am not sure," said Vish. "I have observed the monk, and he is an extremely skilled and well-trained fighter, like me, and unlike you. And he possess elemental projection. You have the elemental projection, but without the fighting skill. To face an opponent with both…I am not sure that I could win, no."

Ryn could barely believe his ears. "Why didn't you tell us that before?!"

"You did not ask," Vish said simply.

"Do you think I have a chance against him?"

"With your 'fire projection'?" said Vish. Another brief pause as Vish considered. "Against his 'earth alignment' which the old man tells us is vulnerable to it? On that basis only, even though he is by far the superior fighter: Yes, I do."

"So actually, what you're saying is that I would have a better chance against Huld in the final than you?"

"Yes."

Ryn couldn't believe that the Shadowfinger hadn't thought to tell him this before. He must be so preoccupied with his poppy addiction that he hadn't paid proper attention to what they were even trying to achieve in this tournament. This was no longer about Ryn's pride–if he wanted maximise the party's chances of winning the Earth Emerald, he needed to be in that Final.

"Alright," Ryn croaked. "I've changed my mind." He kept his voice quiet, still hoping that the crowd, who had started to murmur and mutter to one another, no doubt at this bizarrely long choke-hold exchange, would not be able to hear him. "I don't want you to fight me properly anymore. I want you to let me win."

"As you wish," said Vish.

The Shadowfinger's grip began to loosen completely.

"Wait!" whispered Ryn. "Don't make it too obvious! We need it to look good! We need to make it look like you didn't let me win!"

"Alright…" said Vish. "That will be difficult, but we can probably manage it. Do exactly as I say…"

Vish whispered some instructions to Ryn.

"Okay, got it," Ryn said.

Then he passed out.

Or at least, he pretended to.

He shut his eyes and went limp in Vish's grip, letting his arms fall to his sides.

Vish lowered him gently to the ground and lay him there, for which Ryn was grateful as he wasn't sure that he would have been able to maintain his act had the Shadowfinger just casually dropped him.

The crowd cheered, but a bit limply, like their hearts weren't really in it, presumably because the match had apparently ended in such a boring way.

Eyes still closed; Ryn heard the announcer begin his count: "One!"

Then he heard Vish's voice, further off, speaking to the announcer. "Would you like me to stay in the arena until you complete your counting game this time?"

"Oh…" came the announcer's voice. "Well, it is customary, if you wouldn't mind. There is a chance he will get up again before the count finishes, isn't there?"

"No," said Vish. "He will not be getting up again for quite some time. But I will stay anyway."

Ryn continued to lie still on his back on the cold arena floor, watching the colours dancing on the inside of his eyelids and listening to the announcer's count and the mutterings of the crowd.

"Well that was a bit of a disappointing ending…" someone said nearby.

"How come he didn't do his exploding fire trick like last time?"

"The Aibarian was just too strong. He choked him out before he could do it."

When the announcer got to "Nine!" Ryn opened his eyes and sprang to his feet.

The crowd gasped satisfyingly.

Vish was standing at one edge of the arena, looking out at the crowd with his arms folded. He began to turn to see what had happened.

Ryn was already running towards him, about to reach him.

Vish held up his hands when he saw him in what Ryn knew was mock surprise.

Come on Vish, Ryn just had time to think, at least try to look a bit more genuinely surprised.

Ryn lit himself on fire and executed a leaping side-on kick.

He hit Vish squarely in the chest between his upraised hands, and bounced backwards off him, landing on his back on the arena floor.

Vish flew backwards from the kick in the opposite direction, landing in the sand that encircled the arena, out of bounds.

The crowd exploded with noise, whether from approval, or outrage, or confusion, Ryn didn't know, though he knew he hoped it was the former.

And that was how he won his Semi-Final match against Vish.