Desert Company: Retrospective

“With my life gone the rebellion will surge all over Azutami, covering all four provinces with movement that will not be stopped… Rümqî, Koitoch, Al-Shinkyou, Nankai, from there the protests will reach the southern Tansag Steppe of Alą̧̄utl, and the northern Bathala Valleys of Yahmajô̗.”

“If you want to cry, cry. Because nobody is going to reward you for holding back your tears.”

“You weren’t even there when he was killed. How could you understand?”

“Perhaps I could say the same for you. Why are you pretending that you’re normal if you know what happened that day?”

 

“Suruj, what do you think?” Mouka opened the changing room curtains, and twirled around in a blue-patterned dan deel. Inside a shop, the music filled the room with calm ambience from the speakers on the ceiling, as the ten of them grossed through the assortment of formal attire inside. From suits to more traditional clothing, it had everything needed from business meetings to parties.

“It’s fine,” He sighed, unable to soothe the stress in his mind.

“Aw, you gotta comment more than ‘it’s fine’,” She pouted, and then an idea crossed her mind. Mouka grinned. “Wait just a second.”

Saya opened the curtains from the cubicle next to hers. Scanning the area, her eyes found him first. His shoulders jerked up.

“Suruj, what do you think of this?” She showed herself wearing a red kimono, with a white obi belt and intricate floral patterns.

“It’s almost Zurgaa, a kimono is laced with silk. It’ll be too hot for you to wear it, even at night,” He reasoned, putting his hand on his face, whispering to himself, “Why do I have to be the judge for clothing…”

“Ah, you’re right,” Saya agreed, beginning to loosen the outer layer of the garments, “You should find something too.”

“Unlike you two, I know exactly what I’m going to get,” Suruj exclaimed with confidence.

“Yo,” Hyun-woo walked up to him, holding a gray tangzhuang, a Z̆ongren suit with frog buttons and khakis. Suruj affirmed, nodding as Perez followed next to him.

“To think they had barongs here! This place is international, shukram!” Perez held his own. Now it was time for Suruj to pick his. Walking down the aisles, many pieces of clothing were from around the world; kimonos, yukatas, tangzhuangs, hanfus, jinbeis, deels, but like Perez, he had a bit of pride for his home country. Checking the size and color, as well as the design quality, Suruj took a silver colored barong, laced with a rectangular black and white embroidery. Since his family didn’t have enough money to afford traditional Buhang clothing, this was the first time he was going to wear a barong. Walking to the counter, he wondered how they were going to pay. They didn’t have any money, but Tsuchiya had said that the black bracelet they wore was all they needed. He spotted Kwazhak near the sliding door entrance.

“Kwazhak,” Suruj called out to him.

“...”

“Kwazhak?...”

The prince lifted his head. “Oh, I apologize for my rudeness. Is there something one asks?” He said briefly.

“Aren’t you getting something?”

“I already have a hanfu, Suruj. No need for me,” Kwazhak responded, devoid of his original self.

The rest of them gathered around the counter, wondering how to pay. Mouka walked out first, carrying her clothes in a bag.

“Hey, how did you pay?” Saya questioned as the Khoitan exited the store.

“Find out for yourself, will ya?” She gestured to the rest of them, sliding out the door.

“Well, no use just standing now,” Suruj shrugged his shoulders as he situated himself with the cashier.

“One barong, small,” The cashier said in Azu. They spoke Azu too? Well, they were conquered by Azutami, Suruj reasoned with himself. Immediately the cashier placed his clothing in a bag.

“Wait, I thought I have to pay right?”

“Machigai. Fighters in the Dineh Kazaàd don’t have to pay for anything during the event period,” They replied, pointing at his black bracelet. “See. You’re exempt from any fees and you can buy anything you want.”

“I see…”

They all returned to their hôtel rooms in Al-Bashwa soon after. Split into two groups, they were accommodated with modern rooms. Featuring white walls and ergonomic furnishings, two beds and one shower, only the upper middle class could afford such luxuries. To Suruj, it was a complete culture shock. Public baths were all he knew in Dyak-ar-salaam. Not to mention, the beds were fluffy and soft to the touch. He could sink himself in one of them, thinking he could drown in the bed. Different from his hard bed in his family’s house.

In their brief time, they had discussed things they had noticed during their time in the city, such as there were cameras hoisted on every street, the main roads leading to the tournament stadium, among other small details.

It was almost time for the opening ceremony. Once they had showered and changed into their formal clothes, their black bracelets lit up with a notification.

As the ten of them spilled out onto the lobby from the elevator, Tsuchiya and his guards were waiting. Walking towards them, the Spokesman was also dressed up, his hair brushed back, and a scent of cologne.

“Good evening, muqatil. You’ve made some fine choices,” He went on, “The Tengerleg Stadium is in Taikai-ku. We will go there by foot.”

The streets were still filled with walkers, even at this hour. The neon towers displayed commercials and holograms in the sky above, covering the once coveted stars. In some of them, Suruj saw the silhouette of the defending champion, Ayai Toya, projected onto their screens. Her appearance was stunning, yet bizarre; wearing an oversized blue coat, holding a weapon; He could not tell what it was, a blade that arched downward into a crescent. Blue eyes, long silver-blonde hair, Ayai Toya was the most unique Khoitan Suruj had ever seen.

Passing the gate into Taikai, they could see a large stadium nearing them. Surrounding the complex were crowded plazas and bustling pavilions, businesses gathering profit from the excitement of the tournament. Suru tightened his fist, for how could people enjoy people killing each other? Killing for entertainment, money, revenue, how could it be enjoyable?

Once they had reached the venue, they were only greeted by the empty patterned walkway and grass hedges that lined the building. The atrium was only connected by the annex that led to the arena. Not a soul entered the complex except for them. Inside, bright chandelier lights illuminated the hall as if it were day, various clothed tables with one name plate placed on each of them. It listed the names of the major corporations: Yan-Kyou, Zhü, Ksung-Pa, and the infamous Al-Wa. On the side, the tables surrounded an oblong stage. They sat around the Al-Wa section, anticipating what was to come.

A brief moment passed before a man in a leather strolled onto the stage, dressed in white. With a stern look on his face, the chattering amongst them soon stopped.

“Evening, all fighters alike, and peace be upon you,” He boomed with a cacophony, “Welcome to opening ceremony of the annual Dineh Kazaàd, which also marks the beginning of the Yeii no Matsuri, celebrating the Yyvubia Azazaeru no Mikoto.”

Suruj winced. They were starting to enter the state of no return. The time to act was critical, if the morning sun rises tomorrow they would soon enter the tournament. Everything that they fought for, the people that died for them, would all be for nothing.

“My name is Qiemi Khaylshad, Azu name Chiyo. I’m the KWKK Chief Director of the Dineh Kazaàd, overseeing everything related to the tournament,” Qiemi announced himself. “Now, this isn’t the moment to be afraid. You all volunteered yourself through these corporations, knowingly aware of the risks. Your blood will be given in the name of the Yyvubia Oomikami, presenting a neat display of skills in the arena. But…”

Suruj repeatedly tried to manifest particles, but his bracelet beeped red in response. The mechanism zapped all of it away instantaneously, no matter how hard he tried he could not conjure anything. If he could overload it, maybe, he thought, then maybe it could malfunction.

A hologram projected onto the front, displaying a list of their names, with a cash amount next to them.

06 Laoyuang - 24,926,495 YK

10 Zundui - 13,307,271 YK

09 Toqemur - 11,028,397 YK

07 Perez - 8,238,129 YK

03 Hyun-woo - 8,126,242 YK

04 Izdaha - 7,993,783 YK

02 Htet - 4,124,521 YK

05 Lanu - 4,012,893 YK

08 Shunji - 1,203,246 YK

01 Ashojan - 302,143 YK

“These are the preliminary bids from the commercial oligarchs. When the tournament starts the bidding will be open to the public,” Chiyo explained without a shade of human morality. “As you see, the Laoyuang seems to be quite the hot one.”

“The hell?” Hyun-woo stood up, “How could they even bid when they don’t know us? Gaesae-”

“Muqatil, they have their means through private connections within the Keena Kalepa,” Tsuchiya answered for him. “Now sit.”

“I’m worth eight million… Mahal naman…” Perez’s fingers struggled to comprehend such a number.

“I believe that I can ask,” Hyun-woo sat down and raised his hand, to which Qiemi nodded, “What are the rules that the Dineh Kazaàd follow?”

“I’m afraid that’s not my job to answer that question, as that will be revealed in the arena tomorrow,” He replied briefly. Suruj couldn’t believe it, for this person continued to speak bravado, the ‘honor’ and ‘glory’ within the tournament. Every word made him tingle in his anxiety, the fear of dying. Those thoughts were burying deep into his mind like a parasite. Even though he was raised to fear the Dineh Kazaàd, he did not know much about how it played out in its entirety.

“Now, for the sake of tomorrow, eat and drink!” Qiemi raised his hands, before walking out the stage. After him, numerous servers came holding an unprecedented amount of food, filled with Azu delicacies. Suruj was already tired of the food in Wakoku, so seeing it made his stomach churn.

“Excuse me, I don’t feel very well so…” He got up from his seat, and left to the loft upstairs. His breathing was quick, a choking sensation welled up in his throat. Squatting on the floor holding on to the railing, it was as if his chest had begun to burst.

“It appears you are tired of this fallacious gala. So am I.”

A voice had called out to him from his far right. Suruj thought no one was present on the second floor, but the voice was cold, yet the scent of flowers lingered in the air. He looked up to see an attractive young woman wearing a red bardot dress, her bare shoulders revealed with her hair tied up. At a glimpse, he saw silver-blonde hair and Khoitan blue eyes. Her presence was unnoticed. She was merely watching them from the loft, without saying a word.

“Ayai… Toya?”