"I think I'll be fine without," you tell the doctor. "Do you mind if I just sit here and rest for a few minutes?"
He shrugs. "It's no skin off my nose. Don't expect me to wake you up for your fight, though; that's not part of my job."
You assure the man it'll be fine, ask Briar to rouse you in a few minutes, and settle down to focus your energies on recovery.
Gained Filial Piety F++
It seems like you've barely even closed your eyes before something jabs you in the side. You awaken with a startled sound that you will forever maintain was a manly roar of displeasure, to find Cordelia and Briar snickering at you, and Ayane standing to one side, not even bothering to hide her outstretched hand, the first two fingers hooked in a way that reminds you of Amae.
"You have about one minute before you're expected in the ring," the kunoichi informs you calmly. "Miss Drake has already left."
"How did she look?" you ask as you slide off the cot. Taking the measure of your reserves, you find that the brief meditation has had the expected effect - growth, but only in the most limited sense of the word.
"A little better, but still not particularly good. I could be wrong, but I suspect that her participation in the next round will be mostly a matter of saving face."
"Good news for me if you're right," you say. "Don't take it personally if I don't bet on that, though."
"Not at all."
When you reach the waiting area, the Announcer is just calling for the crowd's attention. For once, he's not standing in the ring alone; one of the attendants is with him, holding a small box.
"As we happen to have an irregular number of semi-finalists," the blond man says, "we will be holding a random draw to see who will fight in this round - unless one or more of our competitors would like to take this opportunity to withdraw from the tournament." He looks at you, Altria, and Gorn.
You are not about to back out now, of course, and you sense a similar sentiment coming from your remaining opponents. The Announcer appears to notice it as well, because he nods. "Alright, then. The draw it is." He indicates the man standing behind him. "The box held by my associate contains three lots, two of which are labeled 'Fight,' while the third is labeled 'Pass.' Whoever draws the last will automatically advance to the finals, while the other two will fight. Would our semi-finalists please come forward to make their draws?"