"Sensei," you ask, "what do they have in the way of squid?"
Lu-sensei gives you a dry look. Cordelia stares at you. Briar snickers.
"Well," your teacher says, looking at the menu, "if you're serious..."
Perhaps fifteen minutes later, following an outburst from the cook that sounds both violent and profane, you are presented with a plate holding the upper half of a mantle and all of the tentacles of a normal-sized squid, on rice, with garnish and sauce. Briar's snickering has increased to outright laughter, which has Cordelia looking in the general direction of your shoulder.
"Is there something I should know about?" she questions.
"Nothing," you reply. "Briar just has this thing about squid."
"Vengeance is mine!" the fairy cries, zipping down to snatch one of the smaller tentacles. It's almost as big as she is, but she hauls it to one side and begins chewing on the end. "Take dish, fal beesht!"
Cordelia boggles at the moving tentacle before directing a worried glance at Lu-sensei. She seems to find his lack of response to the "animate" food deeply suspicious, but you and Sensei both quickly dig in to your meals, pre-empting any discussion.
The squid, incidentally, is nummy. And Briar finishes off a quarter of the tentacle all on her own. Likewise, you manage to demolish the remaining contents of your plate.
You then spend the last hour before bed dodging Cordelia's dark looks and pointed inquiries. She finally gives up and goes to bed, huffing something about "boys" to herself. After a bit, you decide that she has the right idea about what to do, and shuffle off to your room.
The night passes without incident, and when you awaken the next morning, you feel pretty good for five-thirty. Following a light round of stretches, a hot shower, and a light breakfast, you believe yourself ready to face a day of competition. Lu-sensei looks you and Cordelia over, nods, and leads you out of the hotel and down the block to the arena where the tournament is being held. You arrive with fifteen minutes to spare and are ushered inside.
Literally hundreds of people fill the entry hall. It's a cross-section of humanity, and even if perhaps half of them are Oriental adult males, that still leaves dozens of women, youths, children, and non-Easterners. Many, like you and Cordelia, showed up wearing street clothes with sports bags presumably holding uniforms; others are taking Lu-sensei's approach, and arriving looking ready to fight at a moment's notice. There are also quite a few - mostly among the women and children, but also a few older gentleman - who are clothed in fancy traditional Japanese style and have no obvious changes of clothing. Relatives and well-wishers of various contestants, you guess, although some could be competitors in their own right. The people who just showed up in regular clothes are probably not going to fight, but you never know. Some folks are carrying weapons - not just training swords or things like tonfa, but actual blades - and nobody is giving them so much as a second glance. Most, however, are not visibly armed.
The minute you step through the door, it feels like every eye in the place is on you.
Murmuring for you to stay close, Lu-sensei leads the way through the crowd and to the registration center at the back of the hall. The men staffing the tables already have sheets with your names and vital information, doubtlessly thanks to your master's pre-dinner work last night - all you need to do is sign.
And since you're not about to back out after coming all this way, you do.
"Thank you," the nondescript Japanese man in the white monkly outfit says as he takes your sheets and issues you rulebooks and numbered pins in their place: #301 for Lu-sensei; #302 for Cordelia; and #303 for you. He then bows his head to each of you in turn. "And be welcome in this humble event."
You bow back.
You still have ten minutes to wait before the doors to the locker rooms and the preliminary rings are opened.