Desert Company: Retrospective

The sun lay above them a spotlight, while Saya and Toya aimed their shinai a fist’s away from each other. Saya opted to move. She tried to overtake her sword. Toya matched the same distance. The champion took no effort in reädjusting her position to every movement Saya did, reading every move with ease. Saya could barely feel the rhythm. Toya just blocked every slash, and managed to push her back. Unsure, Saya knew that fighting her was a totally different type of fighter.

She had always thought of fights having a certain rhythm. Each fighter had beats of time to move, always looking to gain more beats, more rhythm. Back then, Saya loved listening to her Obaa play the shamisen, a three stringed instrument native to Azutami. The brisk, raw sound of it would carry on to her battles, seeing a fight as a melody waiting to be strung.

But now, that sound was not there. Toya was just a pure wall of radiating defense. So when Saya could no longer hear the rhythm, then it was likely she would lose.

She charged into attempting to spring past Toya’s sword. Saya felt the blunt tip braze her shoulder. Toya took no effort in making a simple thrust forward. Stumbling back, Saya’s momentum was broken. Toya’s shinai then appeared above her. The Azu struggled to bring up an x block. Almost crushed by the sheer force in her cut, she lowered her stance.

“Stand up. Don’t let a sword compromise your position, or you’ll end up dead,” The champion released her shinai. Saya backstepped before springing forward once again, this time with a more structured low stance. Toya went to her side and swung. Saya brought a low guard to counter it. The sound of frisky material came with the slap of the swords. Saya’s arms shook to Toya’s heavy grip. The moment came and Saya retreated backwards, keeping her sword up on guard.

Just sparring with the champion she realized that conventional tactics meant nothing to a master of the blade. Saya had been in her share of random duels in the streets of Rümqî, but none of them were like this. Usually people would fling themselves before their opponent wildly, hoping to get a swing or a hit in. But she had found Toya, much like Thiệu, maintained calculated movements and took the right opportunities.

“Eyes up!”

Toya abruptly made an offensive, not giving a second for Saya to react. Getting smacked in the wrists, her hands bruised a red pigment. Attacks came one after another, while Saya barely bore any resemblance to a formation. Gripping her shinai, Saya yelled and made a diagonal cut outwards, clearing the space in front of her.

“Quite a narrow cut. Are you really the fighter Kwazhak mentioned?” Toya kept her guard, while Saya felt a jolt of anger. She met Toya’s offensive with counters of her own. A constant repetition of guarding and slashing. In an instant, the champion’s shinai came falling down on her.

“Okay, I suppose that’s enough sparring practice for Saya,” Kwazhak appeared and caught Toya’s sword. Only for her to slam the pommel into his stomach.

“Kwazhak…” Saya lowered her shinai, “Are you alright?”

“Ah… That was quite unpleasant,” Kwazhak held onto his lower torso.

“Wait, if you’re here, then that means-”

“Yes, indeed,” He had a coughing spell, as blood dripped from his forehead. “I killed Jose.”

“‘Indeed’, that’s one option to survive in this tournament,” Toya rested the sandwood sword on her shoulder. “And here I thought you were the nice guy, prince.”

“It seems you failed to understand what I wanted to convey, I believe thee were the one that repaired the barrier, is that right?” Kwazhak entered into a side of him that Saya had never seen before.

“Tch…”

“So it was the champion,” Kwazhak sighed, while Toya snagged the shinai from Saya’s hands. “What one just did resulted in the loss of our group.”

“Do you think that the loss of other people’s lives matters to me?” Toya said bitterly before trying to walk away. Then her shoulders perked up.

“Koj puas paub kuv niam? Nws lub npe yog Thoj Dàrén,” He spoke in a language that Saya didn’t understand. Things were becoming more and more confusing. Unnerving silence.

“If I tell you, will you stop speaking to me in that language?” Toya turned her head, already annoyed from the start. When Kwazhak nodded, she took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, I’ve never heard of a person by the name of Thoj. I’m sure my parents would’ve known.”

“And if one allows, may I know where thy parents went?”

“... None of your business. Goodbye,” She kept it brief while disappearing into the swarming crowds in the distance. Kwazhak gave out a sigh before facing Saya again.

“Suruj and some others are going to meet up at a certain place. It’s best that we hurry,” He urged, taking the lead. She followed, but took slower and cautious steps. The evening sun gawked its head towards the horizon, nesting in the comfy city skyline. The same neon lights beamed once again into the racing night, the Yeii no Matsuri as lively as ever. Buildings of yellow and blue celebrated the Yyvubia Azazeru no Mikoto, sellers and customers taking to the streets flooded with markets and profit.

What Saya seen made her wary, although she did not know why. She’d never seen him like this. But they had been with him for over three months. Kwazhak became more blunt, even with his words of choice. Ever since he had comforted her when she was crying.

“What is the real you, Kwazhak?” She mumbled aloud, not paying attention to her own question.

“Quite the rhetorical question, Miss Saya,” He turned his head while guiding her through the crowd. “When you talk to me, I am Kwazhak Laoyuang. When I talk to other people, I am also Kwazhak Laoyuang. However, in order to obtain the best results, some trivial matters are best left idle.”

For a while they walked through the Pupunru-ku, before reaching the entrance of Kapori. When they reached the district, Saya asked her one last question.

“Then was that true? That you killed Jose.”

“Yes. It is a fact that I ended his life with my own sword. I’m aware of what I did, and I shall not make any excuse,” Kwazhak said with a soft tone. “Does one despise me?”

“Jose was our friend, he was one of us.”

“If one does look at me as a despicable individual, then thou art free to do so. Jose was a good one. But I believe I will atone for my sins by the time one is free from the chains of this tournament. Lest that time be wasted.”