On the off chance that you get called up to fight in the next few minutes, you take a moment to stretch and limber up, before settling into a relaxed stance to observe the matches.
What you see over the next quarter-hour or so is a mixed bag. Larry is more or less your default measurement for the combat prowess of a normal human of your age group, and about half the kids you see fighting aren't really in his league. They're not bad, by any means, you just think that Larry could take them in pairs or even threes without being overwhelmed. Maybe two-thirds of the remaining participants are Larry-level martial artists, with those that don't have your friend's obvious natural strength making up for it with some other advantage - speed, flexibility, or pure skill. You estimate that Cordelia fits somewhere in this category, although the fact that Lu-sensei invited her to compete rather than Larry is telling, and makes you bump her up to the higher end of the tier.
And then there are the interesting ones.
In one ring, you see a boy slightly older than you, of average height and build, with Japanese features and surprisingly strawberry-blond hair. The physical abilities he shows during his fight are solid, if not exceptional, but he does display an impressive defensive fighting style - one that his much more aggressive opponent spends a solid minute failing to break through, before getting tripped off the mats. What is most remarkable about the boy is his acquaintance - a girl of the same age, with long dark hair, who stands to one side of the mat, cooling herself with a lacquer-handled snap-open paper fan. When the boy is awarded the win, you hear the girl congratulate him in a very matter-of-fact manner, saying she expected no less. She then snaps her fan shut and tells the boy how he could have won more quickly, offering advice that sounds like criticism without the emotional sting most people give it. The boy accepts the commentary with a patient smile as he walks away from the ring in the wake of the lecturing girl, who moves as if - like the victory - her companion's presence is only natural.
Another match shows you a second Japanese boy with more traditional black hair and a slightly heavier build. His style is more aggressive, and seems to consist solely of the simplest and most straightforward movements - direct strikes, direct blocks, and the occasional kick. The lack of complexity is deceptive, however, for the boy's movements are quick, and when his blows connect, his opponent's reactions suggest that he is stronger than he appears. He wins his match by driving his opponent back into a corner of the ring, and then out of it altogether.
After the two older boys, you spot one who is either younger or just a great deal smaller - in either case, he looks like a six-year-old, has spiky black hair that goes all over the place, and wears a burnt orange gi with a complex symbol in a circle on the back. It takes you about six seconds of observation to conclude that this kid is not entirely human, because he's throwing his considerably larger opponent around with ridiculous ease. Also, he has a bushy brown tail, like some kind of monkey. That's a pretty big clue. Monkey-boy wins his match with a casual-looking pin that completely immobilizes his larger, slightly dazed adversary.
The only other interesting contender you have a chance to see fight is a small girl with Japanese features and shocking violet hair in a pageboy cut. She's markedly faster than any of the boys and doesn't appear to be any weaker than the two humans. She's also by far the most aggressive of the four outstanding participants, launching a dizzying series of attacks that finally end with her opponent in an unconscious heap on the mats. A glance at the scoreboard clock confirms that the little girl with the almost neon hair just scored a knockout in twenty-eight seconds. You make a mental to be very, very careful if you come up against that one.
"Number Two-Ninety-One and Number Three-Oh-Two," one of the officials announces.
Cordelia's up. Her opponent is one of the many Japanese boys, with no obvious features to set him apart from the crowd at first glance. Both of them bow, and the match opens with a moment of slow circling, before the boy launches a high strike that Cordy easily counters.
It's then that you hear the words, "Number Three-Oh-Three and Three-Ten." You look around, finding an empty set of mats a couple of spots down from where Cordelia is having her first match. Another Japanese boy with a distinctive pigtail is stepping onto the mats, his gait and expression both confident.
You frown slightly.