The Colosseum

A Fair Trade

Kova

Sometime after fleeing from Josephine, I fell asleep watching my own back. Because I slipped into slumber early, I woke up at a time that must've been three or four the following morning. Looking around the dark dorm room, I don't find Josephine anywhere, which creeps me out more than comforts me.

But now that I'm up and managed to get adequate rest, there's no drifting into my dreams for at least a few hours. I decide to sneak out of the dormitory hall and walk around a bit. As I pass through the cafeteria, I find the one-eyed devil passed out at a table, surrounded by food that's actually meant to be eaten. Knowing what she did to better herself makes me sick, and I contemplate striking her again in her sleep. No, for what she did to my knee and her people...losing an eye is good enough, for now.

Entering the main hall, I think about the truthful interviews conducted yesterday. Looking back at it, I don't think my answers were very revealing. I didn't embellish any stories or elude to some giant enigma about my past, which is what typical viewers probably prefer. I was rather dry, and none of my answers were very telling, in my opinion. There's nothing I said that an audience couldn't have figured out already.

I fear that Josephine, however, won this one. She left the arena puffy-eyed and tear-stained. Whether her approval rating raised or plummeted, I feel like it's a sign that she showed the biggest change, meaning she came out on top.

I wonder what Ten was asked, but because they don't show us what the audience sees, I might never know. As I circle around the sand in the main tunnel, grunting catches my attention. Turning my head, I scoff. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Under the flood of moonlight, Ten shadow-duals with a heavy sword. Rather than seeing the relaxed, fluid movements he's used to, his form is rigid and full of power. Every ounce of his strength isn't wasted as he delivers critical strikes and practices intricate dodges. Though he's an asshole half the time, I can't deny that he's a graceful fighter. It looks like he's dancing more than exercising his insane ability to kill. Entranced, I watch him for a good while as his back is turned towards me. Suddenly, he swoops low to the ground, coming up and whirling his entire body in the air – form tight and unyielding as his sword's blade dangerously whirls about him as well. As he lands, he faces my way and lunges his sword in the direction of his imaginary foe.

Seeing me watching, he glances at the moon like it's a watch face. "A bit late for you, no?" he tauntingly yaps.

With a weapons rack nearby, I pick up a set of daggers. I did well against Ten last time we dueled while he was in his simulation, and I rather liked the feel of their weight in my palms. They're dynamic in that they're heavy enough to deal real damage, but not so unbearable that I can't move them around fast enough. "I figured you already knew," I reply, sauntering onto the sand. An odd rush of confidence washes over me, as if I feel I have an advantage against anyone who steps foot in this arena – the sand is my home. "I'm a bit tired of the sun, these days."

Snorting at me, he spins his blade in the air, giving his palm a break. "That's what happens when you become a star," he utters. "The spotlight of the sun is always in your face."

"You say it like you hate it, but every time there's a camera around, you grin like a child."

Standing across from me, Ten and I assess each other as enemies in the arena. "It's out of survival." Swinging his sword in a massive arc above me, I form an X with my blades and push his weapon back, getting a feel for his strength. "High public approval means more gifts, which means Deveraux likes you more and things get easier."