The morning air was cool, carrying the scent of damp wood and fresh leaves. The sky stretched wide above them, clear and bright, as the sun climbed higher. A quiet breeze rustled through the trees that lined the forest path, brushing against the sturdy wooden carriage waiting at the entrance of the dojo.
It wasn't like the grand transport systems used by nobles—it was practical, built for long journeys. The frame was thick oak, reinforced with iron plates, and the wheels were lined with a rubber coating to soften the ride over uneven ground. The front held a mechanical steering system, operated by two handles that controlled the direction, while a compact steam-powered engine kept it moving, releasing occasional bursts of mist through narrow pipes near the back. Everything about it was designed for steady travel, built to endure the long road ahead.
The disciples stood beside it, each carrying their packs, their belongings secured for the trip. They had trained for this moment, prepared themselves for what lay ahead, and now, the only thing left was to arrive.
Sensei stood nearby, his presence firm as always. His gaze swept over them before he spoke.
"You need your full strength," he said. "The tournament will push you beyond what you've known. You cannot waste energy before it begins."
Mono adjusted the strap of his pack, feeling the weight of everything they had prepared for settling on his shoulders. He glanced briefly at Josei, who was already checking her bag, making sure nothing had been left behind.
One by one, they climbed into the carriage, shifting their packs beside them. Tokira settled near the window, his fingers resting loosely against his knee as he focused on the road ahead. Raiba stretched his arms before leaning back, making himself comfortable without hesitation. Mono followed Josei in, settling beside her as the wooden seats creaked softly under their weight.
Sensei gave a small nod, then shut the carriage door behind them.
"Stay ready."
The driver pulled the lever, and the gears turned smoothly, the wheels rolling forward. The dojo slowly disappeared behind them as the carriage moved into the depths of the forest road.
---
The trees grew thicker as they traveled, their towering forms stretching toward the sky, their roots weaving through the earth beneath the carriage wheels. The air was cool, shaded beneath the dense canopy, but the soft golden light found its way through the gaps between branches.
Raiba exhaled loudly, rolling his shoulders as he glanced around. "Three hours? We're really going to sit here for three hours?"
Josei barely looked up. "It's not about time. It's about arriving in the right condition."
Mono let his gaze drift toward the passing scenery. The rhythmic movement of the wheels, the low hum of the gears turning, the occasional hiss of steam—it all blended into a quiet pattern of sound and motion. He could feel the anticipation in the air, even though no one said it outright. Tokira remained still, watching the trees as they moved past, his expression unchanged.
'We all know what's coming,' Mono thought. 'No need to say it out loud.'
---
The road ahead wasn't empty. Carriages moved along the same path, all heading toward the tournament grounds. Some were simple, like theirs—built for function, not appearance—while others carried an unmistakable air of wealth.
One, in particular, stood out. It was reinforced with iron, polished to a sharp gleam, pulled by finely tuned gears that moved seamlessly with every shift. Inside, the riders sat dressed in elegant robes, their postures controlled, their expressions unreadable.
Raiba scoffed, watching them pass. "Guess some people like to make an entrance."
Josei observed for a moment, then nodded slightly. "Sponsors. Nobles. Or fighters with high connections. They don't travel the way we do."
Mono watched as the grand carriage moved farther down the path. 'They're going to the same place, but for different reasons,' he thought. 'Some fight. Others just watch.'
---
The forest began to open, sunlight growing stronger as the trees parted to reveal the large clearing ahead. A wide parking lot stretched before them, filled with rows of neatly arranged carriages, drivers guiding their vehicles into place.
The carriage slowed as the driver maneuvered carefully toward an open space, adjusting the controls before bringing them to a firm stop.
"This is the place," he said simply.
The disciples stepped out, adjusting their packs as they took in their surroundings. The air was heavier here—charged, filled with movement and sound. Fighters stretched their arms, adjusted their gear, murmured in low voices as they scanned their surroundings.
Beyond the parking lot, the entrance gates stood tall, leading into the massive tournament facility.
Sensei moved ahead, leading them toward the long pavilion where registration tables had been set up. Officials sat behind the desks, marking names in thick logbooks, their hands moving quickly as they handed out numbered slips.
A stern-faced man looked up as they approached. "Names," he said, his voice brisk.
One by one, they registered, their numbers assigned.
"Raiba, number 267."
"Josei, number 489."
"Tokira, number 102."
"Mono, number 723."
Mono held his slip, running his fingers over the printed ink. 'It's just a number,' he thought. 'But it's also the first step forward.'
Then, Hito stepped forward, taking his slip and flipping it over lazily before glancing at the others. A slow grin spread across his face as his eyes locked onto the bold print.
"Number one," he said, raising his voice just enough for the others nearby to hear. "I guess the tournament organizers already knew what everyone else is about to learn."
Raiba rolled his eyes. "It's random, idiot."
Hito chuckled, shaking his head as he tucked the slip into his pocket. "And yet, here I am, number one. Fate speaks, doesn't it?"
Josei sighed, not even bothering to engage with him, while Tokira simply ignored the exchange.
Mono looked at his own number again. 'Random or not, people will remember the ones who stand out,' he thought.
---
Beyond the registration area stood a massive building—a towering inn, built to house all one thousand competitors. Each number corresponded to a small room, giving every fighter a personal space for the night.
Sensei pointed toward the entrance. "Go inside. Rest. The tournament begins tomorrow."
The disciples exchanged quiet glances before stepping toward the large doors.