The Same Coin

Hisoka the Magician

Their entourage entered the Arena through a back door, away from the crowds that had gathered for admission. Chrollo directed the way to a private elevator which he explained was for the fighters to access their quarters undisturbed by the public. Nobunaga led the way, with her and Chrollo in the center. Machi and Pakunoda brought up the tail.

When they reached the floor the fight was to be held on, they were kept separated from the milling public by both velvet ropes and guards. Winry didn't miss the eyes that looked in their direction, or how whoever saw them would grab onto whoever was close and whisper, "It's Chrollo Lucilfer!"

Their seats were in the lowest level, closest to the cement square where she assumed the fighting itself would take place. There was a considerable space between the cement and the nearest seats, however Winry didn't fail to notice that areas of the concrete barrier that separated the ring from the fighting space had been more recently repaired than others.

They sat in the same order as they had entered the Arena, and she chewed on her lip while watching the other spectators enter. While many of them carried signs with Kastro's name, she saw plenty — especially women — holding signs for Hisoka, most with racy phrases designed to catch attention. Her stomach turned. She'd seen Hisoka's expression in private. He was not romantic — he was ghastly.

Eyes continued to stray toward where she sat with Chrollo. Winry had never been the subject of so much attention, even indirectly, and she felt increasingly ill at ease. It took too long for the lights to lower and the music to begin so people would look away from their group. Spotlights flashed on to focus on the ring. There was a large screen mounted on the wall, projecting photos of both Hisoka and his opponent, Kastro, side by side.

While Hisoka's photo looked intimidating, she still wouldn't have guessed the amount of sheer malice that radiated from him in person based on his picture. That certain something that was deranged about him didn't convey on the screen. He looked, and she flashed back to the balcony.

That heady, indecent expression she'd seen still gave her chills.

If Hisoka was to be the villain, a mere glance at Kastro told her that he was meant to be the hero. He had green eyes, long white-silver hair, and his robes and pants were also white with only touches of black trim. He'd tucked his pants into gray boots. His face was serious, but he looked kind. If she'd been in danger, he seemed like someone she could have run to for safety.

The music lowered a notch, and Winry heard a commentator speak over an address system. The woman's voice was high pitched and brimming over with excitement.

"Tonight it finally happens! The much anticipated fight between Hisoka Morow and Kastro Kagami! Hisoka the Magician has had a flawless 4-0 record, winning each of his fights on his way up. Kastro Kagami's record is 6-0! Whoever wins here tonight advances to the 200th floor!"

Smoke plumed forth along the walls, drawing Winry's eyes as Hisoka emerged from the smog. His expression was stoic and unreadable as he strode to stand on the cement slab closest to where Winry sat with Chrollo. Hisoka glanced over the crowd with only the faintest interest. If he saw where she sat with Chrollo and the others, he didn't acknowledge them. With the distance closed between them, however, she could see the faintest gleam in his amber eyes. Winry swallowed hard.

"Is this about the airship? Are you thanking me for saving you when the airship was going down?"

"No."

More smoke erupted and the audience's cheers grew louder. Despite Hisoka's eager devotees, she could see that Kastro was favored for the fight. Kastro stepped forward and the smoke wrapped itself around him, following him into the light. She had expected him to raise a hand to the crowd, but he did not. He had eyes for only Hisoka.