"Your opponent in the next round. It was Yoibetsu-N, the Kumogakure ninja coating himself in Lightning Release armor, wasn't it?" Damisan turned to Ryoku Genshi, who sat still with his attention pointed toward something diagonally down at some ordinary corner of the arena that veiled staffers in baggy robes were repairing.

"That's right," Ryoku Genshi nodded. "What about it?"

"Do you think you could watch these seats all by yourself?" Damisan wondered.

"Eh? What's this so suddenly?" Ryoku Genshi bent his head off to the side. Had Damisan not known any better, it would have appeared as if the cumbersome headgear that the athlete was wearing to cope with his shortcomings was dragging his head down to the side.

"The gear you're equipped with right now won't do against that guy. I made you a promise to help you go as far as possible and, while I don't always approve of your recklessness, I intend to keep that promise and give you nothing less than my best effort. From the looks of it, we've got a spare hour, maybe two. I'd like to see how much work on your gear I can squeeze in that timeframe," Damisan explained.

"Damisan-san…" Ryoku Genshi's voice heightened in pitch and began trembling. Quick to gulp down the rising broth of emotions and cast it away from coming to the surface, the athlete nodded and looked away. "Yeah, you can leave it to me."

As Damisan stood up from his seat, Ryoku Genshi turned and placed his feet onto the seats, stretching out across the seats where the Stars watched the matches from. Given his blindness with only the sensory chakra signature tracking that Damisan installed on the athlete's headgear, it might have been the best way for him to keep the seats occupied. It was unlikely that someone would bother a quartered, blinded man for the seats he was occupying.

Making sure that Ryoku Genshi survived the following match would be an easier task than it would have been against a veteran samurai. However, winning was another matter entirely. Damisan would have found it troublesome to keep up with Yoibetsu-N himself. Even with his chakra-tracking headgear, Damisan doubted that Ryoku Genshi could track his opponent's uncanny speed. Then there was the part of designing not puppets, but mere prosthetic limbs capable of catching Yoibetsu-N off-guard…

In terms of combat efficiency, signing puppets was simpler than building prosthetics. Puppets were an entire system, a complete tool built for a specific purpose. Everything in a puppet, beginning from its shape to its assortment of tools and weaponry, brought the puppet closer to the endgame goal the puppeteer using the puppet pursued.

Things were different with prosthetics. They were meant to restore the functionality of a body part or a sense of a person who was lost first and foremost. Everything else was just an addition. A bonus. It was tough to stretch a mere bonus to cover for an additional function, but Damisan had years of experience in the field and his client was reckless and resourceful enough to make even the bluntest tools work.

Truth be told, the Stars didn't really need Ryoku Genshi anymore. Not with Mana being back and, in a strange twist of fate that Damisan couldn't quite yet wrap his head around, involved in the tournament again, despite the plentiful setbacks. However, the athlete was a lot like Damisan back in the day. A driven daredevil whose body had failed him. Every time that Damisan looked at the guy, he couldn't stop choking up. It was like looking at a past version of himself.

Maybe Ryoku Genshi won't make the mistakes Damisan made given the opportunities that Damisan was offered? It was exactly because of how similar the two were deep down that Damisan felt like he'd be liberated somehow if he could live through that part of his life again and do it the right way. Sticking to his passion and what's truly meaningful, as opposed to running off for more bloodshed and revenge.

Already Ryoku Genshi was so much better than Damisan ever was. Despite competing in a world so far outside of his area of expertise against experts in the field of violence, he held no grudges and sought no retribution. Bloody or otherwise. Leaning his back against a dry and sandy wall in a shady room that Damisan saw no immediate use for and found empty, the Allied Ninja pulled out a scroll to unseal handfuls of nuts and bolts, metallic, plastic, and wooden frames, paint, and brushes for sealing glyphs and settled down to see what he could cook up.

Whatever he'd start now, he'd have to finish in the evening, if he had such a chance. With the rest of the Stars being around and confined to move around together, Damisan felt like Mana wouldn't want to show off their affection toward each other too publicly just yet. That would turn out in their favor ultimately. Damisan wouldn't have to choose between his duties to her and his own obsession with making things right. Even if she was okay going public with their affection, Damisan felt sure that she, of all people, would understand.

She was the one that made him this way, after all.

A pair of blurs, one murky and gray, another one white and royal blue, blitzed from the rooftops through an opening in the Agbarmahal's tower. They bounced around at unbelievable speed, scaling and dashing across walls and ceilings and grabbing onto the moving shade to avoid being seen. A testament to their skill, Endo and Asuka moved without making a sound. They saw an opportunity to get to the northern wing of the gigantic palace through an opening door while the patrolling palace guards walked through it, moving without rustling the innumerous grains of sand and dust in the hallways.

"We probably could've just walked in through the main gate," Endo noted as the two found a balcony and perched onto it to survey a larger hall for any activity. "The palace guards saw us with Mana and they know we're with her."

"Maybe so, but it might be for the best that we're not placed here at around this time. Just in case we need to snuff someone out," Asuka's eyes glistened like those of a cat following pesky rodents from the roof and looking for the best angle to jolt down and kill something, satisfying its hunting instincts.

"I thought we were supposed to just snoop around," Endo glared down to do his own share of scanning. Despite the fact he called Asuka out, the swordsman didn't look too surprised because Asuka was already mapping out a murder in her head and looking for ways to get away with it. Even though there was no love lost between the two after their mutual scuffle in the Land of Earth, they thought alike in terms of their preferred approach toward their mission objective.

"So you're telling me you would let an opportunity to kill those mercs and be done with this mission slip by? This shitshow has been going wrong ever since it got off the ground. We've been ambushed twice and split up, sidetracked, and inconvenienced at every twist and turn. I have no intention of leaving our mission success up to Mana and her performance in this tournament," Asuka vented her frustrations as subtly as she could so that their presence didn't become apparent.

The pair dashed through the balcony on the other side of the hall, skipping off the brass frame of a colossal chandelier hanging above the heads of the palace guards below without as much as a squeak or more than a few grains of sand kicked down. Perhaps enough for one of the more bored and nosy guards to notice, but nothing that would warrant a look-up. Even if they were to convince themselves to gaze upward, Endo and Asuka would be halfway across the palace, in a whole different wing by then.

"Hmph, here I wondered there'd be no need for questioning to find a flying obsidian condor with streaming neon lights flashing in all directions," Asuka grumbled after the pair settled on another chandelier frame and sought for preferable spots to check next. "It doesn't look like we'll just run into the bastard in the palace. I guess killers don't always return to the scene of their crimes."

"Its match is just around the corner, maybe the killer and their cohorts, if they have any, are still in the arena?" Endo wondered.

"If they are, there'll be a fat chance of us making a move there. That place is like a beehive of curious eyes. I hoped our killer would want to avoid all that attention and do their dark bidding from the comfort of the palace, where the common folk aren't allowed," Asuka sighed in disappointment.

"Why would they hide?" Endo shrugged. "After all, they know they got away with the crime. No one knows what they look like, except maybe the victim, who won't be doing any tattling. They can walk with their face out in the open and just watch the matches like we do."

"Yes, but…" Asuka grumbled. "Where would it store the mountain-sized weapon of mass destruction? It would take a sealer of significant skill to seal away something like that into a scroll. The odds are a lot better that they've stashed it somewhere. Either that, or they won't leave their impenetrable protective condor jet."

"It's a condor, isn't it?" Endo looked up at the roof section that, despite their great level of elevation, still hung a decent rise above their heads.

"Great, just great…" Asuka smacked her face, wholly frustrated. "Our target is concealed inside an invincible mountain bird that's floating somewhere in the atmosphere.

"Unless you know any other places in this palace where one could store a colossal condor weapon, I have no other explanation," Endo shrugged.

"Damn it, if our guy's truly a sealing master, we'd have a fat chance of identifying them in the crowd, and if they're just hovering over the clouds, just waiting to descend for their fights, they're invincible to assassination. It really might just be all up to Mana, or one of the other lucky blokes, isn't it?" Asuka shook her head while struggling to cope with their situation.

"We could still scope out the place some more. See if we can spot some suspicious folks around. Few people, besides the palace guards, are allowed inside this palace, after all," Endo suggested to elevate his partner's mood.

"It's no use. It's not like the murderer would have stepped out and spoken to the guards, admitting to the assassination they've committed and owning up to being the new Batsudoru just to be permitted into the palace. No, they're sticking somewhere else," Asuka shook her head.

"Unless they've got goons to ground them, in the sky, then?" Endo summed it up.

"Yeah, let's snoop around the town. See if we'll run into something suspicious or Shige-H and Mana first. Either way, it doesn't seem like we'll be sending any heads to roll this time," Asuka replied.

Hearing the noise of an opening door behind her, Mana straightened her back from the mirror where she was applying the exotic make-up, kindly provided by the merchant Motom, and twirled to let her new outfit settle into the vague shape of her body. "Well, how do I look?" she smiled warmly at Shige-H, who stepped inside and made way for Motom's round frame to enter behind her.

"You look like you could pass as one of the locals," Shige-H nodded with a content expression. "Does it feel comfortable enough to fight in?"

"I think so," Mana turned around and checked herself out from various angles, straightening the wrinkles where she could and testing the integrity and the smoothness of the fabric. "I'd have preferred something with sleeves, but not having anything to restrain my arms is a suitable alternative."

"Women don't wear sleeves around these parts, ma'am. Too hot. Surely you would have noticed it by now…" Motom pressed his index finger and thumb to his temple, shaking his head at the mild criticism of his wares. "It might sound like flattery and appeasement coming from me, the one you're buying these wares from, but these clothes and this jewelry suits your complexion like a glove. Forget locals, you look like royalty!"

"I think I could even perform in this," Mana examined the one-piece dress and moved the sides of her veil to see if it wouldn't flap in the way of her eyes. She had to admit that the locals had this piece of clothing nailed down tight. Cut just right to cover Mana's mouth and nose when she needed protection from sand, but never reaching high enough to obstruct her eyes the way that the sun-shaped brooch on her forehead held it pinned down.

"I'd focus on your matches above all the other things if I were you," Shige-H politely curbed Mana's excitement. "We are satisfied with the purchase, Motom-san. Our business is concluded then?"

"Oh, how you fair ladies wound me!" Motom covered his forehead and playfully wobbled around, pretending like he was going to faint. "You must join me for a bowl of sherbet or some sahlab!"

"I've never had a sahlab before," Mana turned around, pressing her hands together with a warm smile.

"Then you must!" Motom spoke firmly with chopping hand gestures that relayed the merchant would accept no other way.

"Well, it doesn't sound like the arena is getting too loud just yet. We may have a little bit of time until the matches pick back up," Shige-H shrugged. "I too am curious about this sahlab."

After leaving the warehouse, Motom quickly pushed some tables and heaved some chairs around to transform his quarters into a neat little place for a lunch break.

Before the very eyes of the Allied kunoichi, Motom threw handfuls of white powder, vanilla, and starch and poured a bunch of water over it, boiling it up on the spot far beyond the point where either of the two would have considered boiling what looked like milk. Motom pulled out a wooden spoon from somewhere and began tending to the bubbly and creamy liquid while taking careful whiffs and eyeing the boiling dessert like it was his own child.

"You're boiling it?" Mana wondered, peeking from multiple sides to get a better look at the method by which the merchant prepared their drinks. "I've never before heard about a boiling hot drink in the desert."

"Sahlab was invented by traveling Land of Wind merchants. Originally, they brewed it in the Land of Snow, using yak milk, and it was meant to warm you up with some homeland warmth while so far abroad. However, we don't get any snowy or icy weather here in the Land of Wind. Especially not this far south-west. The recipe had to be preserved though, it's part of our culture, after all! Usually, we drink Sahlab at night, when it gets colder, and serve it to children before sleep. That's why most locals have a sweet spot for a hot drink that we enjoy even during hot days," Motom explained.

"I see, so it's mostly a matter of nostalgia. Well, I've heard about people drinking tea even during the summer. I've never tried it myself and I'm not sure about it, but trying out new things is the essence of traveling, I suppose," Shige-H nodded to herself while hearing out Motom's explanation of the history of the drink.

After he believed the drink to be finished, Motom poured it into cups while keeping some brew in the pot for seconds or thirds. Before handing the cups over to the ladies, the merchant sprinkled some almond, coconut, and cinnamon on top in layers and handed it over, encouraging them to enjoy it at their own pace.

Feeling the hot glass, Mana decided not to rush her attempts to taste the foreign dessert just yet. Instead, she settled down, showing an example for Shige-H to do the same. Looking like he was floating over the moon, Motom settled down behind a cumbersome metal table that he lugged around with surprising skill and grace for a civilian.

"You know, Motom-san, I've been to Agbarah before. I'm excited to visit again, however, I'm worried I won't get to see much of it before I have to leave again. The last time I was here, it was much stricter, much more dangerous and isolated…" Mana noted her first impressions after waking up from her hazy coma and returning to her body. "It warms my heart more than sahlab can to see this place so sparkly and cheery."

"You visited Agbarah during those times? B-But… That shouldn't be possible, even a lovely lady such as yourself would have been thrown to fight in the arena!" Motom exclaimed, slapping his cheeks with open hands in terror.

"I was," Mana nodded while taking the first sip of the boiling drink. It was a sublime drink in terms of taste, sweet, however subtly so. Extremely smooth and creamy, foamy and exotic. The only regret of Mana's tasting the drink was that she could not smell its nutty coconut aroma ever since she abandoned her sense of smell to strengthen her chakra sensory in her genin days. She didn't speak more about it, namely because she didn't see there being any use in retelling her experiences in Sun Disc from back when.

Nor did Mana see the appeal of bragging about being the fabled Second Goddess, or, as Rajul called her–the Gladiatrix. The young woman who did the impossible and repeated the stunning performance that caused Sheikh's descent into grief and depression and revived his passion for martial arts.

"I see, well, in that case, I'm overjoyed that you got to know a different side of Agbarah from the isolated and hostile place it had turned into. It was a dreadful time. Just like Sheikh lost his passion and thought he'd never see another fight like that of the First Goddess, many inhabitants of Agbarah lost their passion for martial arts after the arena became a place of butchery and slaughtering grounds. I didn't stay in Agbarah long, eventually, I stopped looking for opportunities to return home I grew up. It was only when news of Agbarah's rebirth into a sanctuary for martial arts it once was that I dared tread back home to sell my wares," Motom reflected, going somewhere else mentally while slowly sipping on the drink that was hotter than the day they were having.

"You must be worried too. About the Succession Tournament, I mean. Depending on who succeeds the Sheikh, Agbarah might descend into something awful again," Shige-H said while holding the glass of sahlab in her hands and refusing to take a sip just yet.

"Oh, well… We'll see when we get to it. The Sheikh was a young ruler already when I was just a child. He was never going to live forever and I think that hosting a tournament and having the one that's truly experienced Agbarah's culture and felt the pounding of centuries of honorable fighting that's been taking place in the Sun Disc inherit the position of ruler of Agbarah," Motom pointed out. "Somehow, I just know that the winner of the tournament will do no wrong for Agbarah. Even if they were a wicked person coming in, Agbarah and the Sun Disc change people. They make them absorb it all and become part of this culture of fighting tradition and make them wish to carry it all forward into the new age. You won't find many questioning the Sheikh's decision."

Time flew by while chatting idly about the most ordinary daily affairs of Agbarah and the tournament matches that were already behind. The tolling of the gong began inviting the contestants and the spectators alike back to the arena to witness the rest of the second round of matches. Motom scooped up the empty glasses and stuffed them in something that passed for a sink in his little shop, locking the shop up and scurrying after the two ladies to the arena to become a part of something much larger than just one man. Something that would determine the future of the place Motom grew up in.

With the fighting stage repaired, the Succession Tournament could continue again.