The city was known as Minali, and it was a delightful place this time of year. The streets brimmed over with resident and visitor alike, all abuzz with the excitement that came every year at this time. Children scurried underfoot and merchants hawked their wares in every square and along every street within a mile of the city center. It was the time of the Solstice Festival, and Minali observed it with all the gusto and verve for which it had become known.

The highlight of the Festival was, as it was every year, the Great Tournament where warriors from across the worlds came to test their strength against one another in a multitude of contests ranging from simple sword duels to contests of magical will to grand melees and contests of marksmanship. Additionally there were the several dozen small stages set up about the city where individual matches could take place, whether planned in advance for those who might be taking part in the Tournament as well, or simply for those who had come to celebrate the Festival and felt the desire to cross swords with a a rival, companion, or complete stranger. Any number of wagers and grudges were settled on those extra stages, out of the Grand Colosseum yet still within easy reach of medical aid.

For Ayakami Enzo, the three time champion of Arkhavia's Five Continent Championship in the Pure Light Duel League, there was certainly the urge within to throw his name into the hat for the Great Tournament here in Minali. It was, after all, one of the reasons he had left Arkhavia: to seek out new challenges on other worlds, to experience life beyond what he had known thus far. Alas, he had missed the deadline to enter, and found himself relegated to merely watching. It was not a role that he despised, however, and he found himself wandering the Festival at large and thoroughly enjoying himself in the process. It was pleasant to be able to do so without the worries of being recognized and thronged with autograph seekers or challenged by some disgruntled Hikari who felt he could take the champ if only given the right chance.

For the time, at least, Enzo was merely a stranger enjoying the festivities, and liking it that way.

At the moment the whip-thin, dark-haired duelist was standing before a vendor selling a selection of delicious smelling cooked meats on skewers. It was a warm day, with the sun high overhead as befitted the time of year, and Enzo wore a light shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, showing the tangle of metallic blue tangle of lines that adorned his left arm. He never thought about his birthmark himself, but several others seemed to take notice of it on occasion, thinking it a tattoo of some kind or another. Like usual, he dealt with those who asked him questions about it with his typical smile and modest answers before turning back to the vendor.

In the end he settled on a skewer of seasoned beef and took up a seat on the nearby empty duel stage, letting his comfortably shod feet dangle over the edge as he ate and watched the people around him. A soft breeze curled through his unruly hair, and he smiled. It was a beautiful day in Minali, one the duelist was determined to enjoy.

Minali.

A city of glitz and glamour; festivity and fanfare.

Here denizens from every direction have flocked in a congestion of chattering cacophony to enjoy the solstice with all manner of trinkets, culinary delights and its hallmark combat tournament; the metropolis as much a melting pot of nationalities and fashions as the bubbling stews perfuming the humid, grill-smoked air with appetizing aroma. Hypnotic electric signs both plainly lettered and intricately designed beckon those with burning pockets toward their vice of choice as the myriad merchants await happily to accept their credit card swipes and stack coin.

However the heart of Minali beats to a different drum; its massive stadium packed shoulder-to-shoulder almost shaking to the indiscernible ruckus of its occupants as musicians pound to a steady pulse. Soon the trumpets join triumphantly to declare formal beginning of the event; the sudden hush of spectators is filled with metallic medley of cymbals and chimes to craft a charming concerto complete with the crowd's roaring cheer. Only when its deafening din dims do the speakers shout with a man's sensational speech.

"Welcome one and all to Great Tournament V, Minali's fifth annual contest featuring the galaxy's greatest as they fight for pride, glory more riches than most will spend in a lifetime!"

The crowds comes alive like animals famished for flesh and blood before falling quiet once more.

"First up, we have a lady by the name of Hisame Atsukawa of Earth; a newcomer from a planet well-known for its ability to wage war! Let's hear it for her!"

Like puppets they cheer on command and await entry along an electric guitar's welcoming riff; a wicked shred slowly sliced into silence by a terrible grinding shrill from the arena's ingress.

The nail-on-chalkboard screech drowns all other sounds as the woman enters view: an Oriental dame of elegant royal purple kimono whose long black locks frame her fetching face as the rest splits her back in a tied tail; the shriek's source seems to be the rusty, unkept katana she drags openly by the violet cordage of its unwrapped hilt while it carves a line into the ground; muted sandaled steps carry straight gait and her somber charcoal stare appears infatuated with but listless upon the polished titanium flooring; the indifferent line of her lips match the apathy she adorns like a melancholic mask.

She is the antithesis of celebration and soon takes center stage; a sore thumb whose dress cannot be more unlike the modernized wardrobe has long made hers antique. Hisame not so much as lifts her head when she stops at an appropriate place further down the will-be battlefield and her halt likewise shuts her sword up; soon the immediate, angry mutterings at her impromptu eardrum incision also slip away to renewed guitar and the announcer's return.

"That sure was a noisy entrance; let's see if her opponent is as reluctant to keep quiet! Without further ado..."

So Hisame awaits adversarial arrival; mayhap the one to at long last bestow her most coveted but elusive desire.

The day wore on, and Enzo found himself moving into the main stadium along with the majority of the crowd. Minali’s Great Tournament was, of course, the big draw of the festival and as evening approached the lights began to come on and the stadium filled. Enzo himself had a surprisingly decent seat about halfway up the stands but in the center of the oval. The Hikari Duelist sat back and enjoyed the pre-fight entertainment, watching as a pair of unfamiliar bands exchanged places in the center of the venue, and as a troupe of high flying aerialists flipped and flew across high wires and between swinging trapezes.

By the time the tournament began, Enzo was happily sipping on some drink or another, feeling content and energized by the almost electric excitement in the crowd around him. Being on this side of things was something that hadn’t happened in a long time, and he found it brought back not only happy memories of his childhood but a youthful exuberance he hadn’t felt in years.

Even the screeching entrance of the first competitor could do nothing to tamp down his anticipation. Dramatic entrances and the like were nothing new to the Duelist, of course. Those involved in the Leagues back home were considered celebrities, and many played to the fans and the sponsors in a variety of dramatic ways, from the flashy to the macabre. For Enzo, the woman - Hisame the announcer said - was just one of those on the darker side of things in taste. Certainly not his own style, but he could see the attraction for some.

Meanwhile, the woman’s opponent was entering from the opposite end of the sandy fighting ring. He was a big man with skin of vibrant blue and close shaved hair of bright white. A Calibani, if Enzo didn’t miss his guess. The man took a decidedly different tact in his entrance than Hisame did, practically leaping into the area with an upward thrust of both hands. This was evidently a signal because pyrotechnics shot into the air on either side of the well muscled gladiator.

“Oh my folks, here he is! Jobal Huin, the champion mixed discipline fighter all the way from Caliban. A master of submission moves and a self-proclaimed expert at defeating armed opponents with nothing but his bare hands.”

Jobal Huin danced and strutted forward, waving to the crowd and hooting. He was a showman, to be certain, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a competitor. The mid-thigh length shorts, ankle high boots, and forearm covering arm bands did nothing to disguise the muscular nature of the blue-skinned fighter. This was a man who knew his way around a gym, and had the product to show for it. Jobal was six and a half feet of blue skinned muscle and he was now turning his full concentration on Hisame.

“Alright folks, here we go. Let the Fifth Annual Minali Great Tournament begin!”

Green lights flashed around the lip of the arena and the crowd erupted in excited cheers. And as the sun slipped away unnoticed in the evening sky, Jobal Huin rushed forward towards Hisame, intent on relieving her of her sword and claiming an easy victory over the small woman.