It really sucked that his katana prevented Reo from entering the tournament but he understood the reasoning and even as a non-participant he could still see different techniques in action. In fact he had enough ideas for moves even without watching the semifinals he could no doubt develop his style a lot more, though it would no doubt take a lot of work to make said ideas feasible.

As a matter of fact with the semi finals still some time away Reo had decided to look a V.R training simulator to get some work in on what was probably the simplest and most basic idea he had. Sure he could no doubt find a real life match to try it out in but in order to put up a decent fight he would also have to rely on his katana and he had no desire of either hurting someone or getting arrested for taking a sword, currently hidden in a bag, to such a crowded event. Eventually he found what he was looking for and waited until his turn came up.

“Okay. That’s all the paperwork we need. Your registration is complete Mr Takagi.”

Ryuhei gave the woman behind the desk a polite smile, raising a hand to rub awkwardly at the back of his head at being called such a formal title. “Ah, thank you. Ryuhei is fine. So I just need to show up on time for my match?”

The clerk, a young brunette woman around the same age as Ryuhei nodded to him. “Yes, it’ll work the same way as previous rounds did. We’ll make an announcement an hour before the match so that the audience can find their seats and the competitors can make their way to the waiting area. If you haven’t shown up by the half hour mark we’ll send someone to find you. If you’re late, then I’m afraid you’ll be disqualified. Do you have any other questions?”

“No, that should be everything.”

“Okay. Then you’re good to go Mr… Ryuhei. Good luck in the tournament.”

Hefting his duffle bag onto his shoulder Ryuhei turned away from the desk with a final smile and wave before beginning to walk in the direction of the competitor’s locker room. It was still some time until the next match but he might as well start getting ready; he could spend the time mentally preparing and image training for the next fight. It was too bad he didn’t know who his next opponent was slated to be but the mystery would help keep him on his toes and it disadvantaged his opponent as much as himself. He knew who the other semi-finalists were so it could only be one of three people.

The public areas of the arena were jam packed with people here to see the fights and visit the attractions, making progress slow. A part of him was worried he might be recognised and that he was going to be mobbed but even he had to admit that was an unlikely fantasy. It wasn’t like he was anyone famous after all, just someone who had managed to make it to the final four of the World Tournament; even as popular as this event was it wasn’t like all the previous fighters were celebrities or anything. People remembered the winners for a few years, but go back even four tournaments and the average person would struggle to remember the names of any of the competitors.

Besides, wearing normal civilian cloths like he was nobody would ever recognise him anyway.

Excuse me!

An older woman with her chin resting on the palm of her hand, opened her purple-dusted eyes, and stared lackadaisically at a young blonde girl who had a bright smile on her face. She was wearing a white fur coat with a round cylindrical hat on top of her head. Her eyes gleamed as blue as the sky and her blonde locks pooled about her shoulders, naturally curling at the tips. Her hands were veiled in fur mittens that extended up her forearms to her elbows. They were crossed before her lap as she bowed at a slight angle so as not to disturb her hat.

“Hello. I am here to register a fighter for the semi-finals,” she greeted.

The woman slowly blinked her eyes, not even bothering to lift her round face from its palm-throne. The girl did say “a fight” for she knew that she wasn’t referring to herself. She appeared the age of a teenager in high school and had barely any muscle. “Who are you referring to?” she asked plainly on a nasally voice.

Suddenly, there was a menacing face that lowered before the ticket window. The fighter who leaned over to gaze through the window at her, startled the attendant and had her sitting upright in her rolly chair. She and her chair actually rolled backwards away from the window as she exclaimed, “Ah!”

From beneath dark, weighted brows, two beady black eyes darted about the interior of the small booth and then at the woman who was seated and quivering in her chair. Her purple work dress molded around her saggy breasts and portly mid-section, and seeing her and the booth, made the giant known as Grisha crack a large grin.

“Fat lady; tiny box,” he snickered.

“What!?” the attendant gasped in offense.

The blonde girl, Lena, her mouth fell open in speechless shock as she stared up at Grisha who was hiding his face against his arm, while his hand rested on top of the booth. His whole body was shaking with muffled mirth.

“Grisha!” Lena finally managed to speak. “Apologize right now. That is so rude.”

Grisha turned his back to Lena and the booth, crossing his arms over his stomach as he bore his teeth in laughter. Tears were collecting in his eyes as he found Lena’s reaction even more amusing. Lena blushed in embarrassment, and she smiled sheepishly as her attention returned to the ticket attendant. “Uh, heh-heh, ignore him. He’s nothing but a big child and doesn’t know any better. But that’s who I am registering…heh…”

The attendant rolled back over to the window and gave Lena a narrow-eyed look that could have melted her like laser beams. The lady stared long and hard to the point Lena almost freaked out. The attendant rested her hand on the roster on her desk and slid it toward the gap in the window.

“Honey, I just wanna let you know that I hope your boyfriend gets his face beaten in,” she said.

Lena’s face flashed red. “B-b-boyfriend? Grisha’s not my boyfriend!”

Grisha whirled around to face Lena and exclaimed, “Grisha boyfriend! Lena’s boyfriend! Ha, ha, ha!”

Lena pulled her hat down over her face. “Grisha, shut your big mouth! You’re not my boyfriend!”

“Boyfriend!”

Over my dead body…

The blond man who approached the booth was wearing a dark, forest-green plaid shirt, blue jeans, and winter boots. His hands were clenched into fists as though he meant business, and he walked over to stand next to his daughter. He grumbled, “How long does it take to register? Stop being stupid and sign already.”

Grisha gave the man, Lena’s father, Tobias, a disgusted look. The corner of his mouth arched at him. What a killjoy. His attention shifted over to the paper the attendant had extended. Grisha grabbed the paper, raising it before his eyes to stare hard at it as though it were written in hieroglyphs. He heard the clatter of a pen as the attendant dropped it in the steel dish. Grisha picked up the pen, gave it a look, and then glanced at the paper. Both Tobias and Lena just watched as though watching some behavioral experiment.

Tobias’s eyes narrowed in doubt. He whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “He doesn’t even know what it is.”

Lena’s hat was still against her face and her blue eyes were peeking over it. “Ssh! I taught Grisha how to write his name. He knows how.”

“In the snow with a stick. That’s a pen…a fancy pen.”

Lena slapped her hat against her forehead. “Oh, right!”

Tobias and Lena happened to glance at Grisha who was giving them a death glare. The two felt a frightened jolt shoot up their spines. Had he heard them!? Of course, he did. Growling in frustration, Grisha set the paper on the roof of the small booth and stared at it. He gazed at the steel pen, giving it a few sniffs. He smelled the ink within it and brought the pen between his teeth and bit down on it. The ink busted all over his mouth and Grisha spat it onto the paper before writing his name extra big all over the roster with his finger: GRISHA. He then held the roster before Tobias’s and Lena’s eyes with an ink-stained grin. Tobias clapped a hand against his forehead, while Lena continued to hide her face in her hat.

Proudly, Grisha returned the roster to the attendant who stared wide-eyed at the paper and then up at the ink that blotched the giant’s face.

“Strong and dumb; wow, well, that’s what majority of the competition is. You’ll fit right in,” she muttered stamping next to his name.

Grisha held a thumbs up to Tobias and Lena. While Tobias walked passed him and sighed in relief. “Finally. I want something to eat before this next match starts.”

“Yes! Food!” Grisha enthusiastically exclaimed.

“We brought food with us remember? Icicle potatoes and snow boar meat,” Lena informed. “We’ll have a meal together before Grisha’s final matches.”

Tobias rested his hands upon his hips and nodded. “Sounds like a good idea.”

There was a large, cast iron pot steaming with an assortment of vegetables: frost cabbage, butter shrooms, winter leek, and icicle potatoes. The vegetables simmered in the broth of two massive boar legs, which protruded from the pot like two braised and dark golden peaks. Grisha, Lena, and Tobias were seated on pillows surrounding the pot, appearing like complete foreigners to the rest of the room. They each held a clay mug of the nutritious broth and were sipping it and savoring its bold flavors. Two other strangers joined them. Men in business suits who had been watching Grisha’s past matches. They had wanted to join the group for a meal in order to get close to the competitor who they were hoping to persuade to sign some contracts. The two men sipped at the broth, smiling and blushing at the heavenly taste. They didn’t think the foreigners' food would have tasted so delicious.

“Wow, this is delicious!” a short man by the name of Mr. Yoshimoto exclaimed.

“It doesn’t taste gamy at all,” the tall and slender man, Mr. Haneda praised.

Lena proudly smiled, “Yep! It’s called a Snow Boar Hot Pot, and you can only get it in Kousetsu Village.” She then blushed and smiled. “Well, and I guess here since I cooked it.”

Grisha grinned. “Lena cook best food!”

Tobias remained silent as he sipped from his mug. Being the older and…well…wiser between Grisha and Lena, he knew exactly why Mr. Yoshimoto and Mr. Haneda had joined them.

Lena removed from the pot with some tongs a swollen potato, plump with the boar broth and placed it in her mug to nibble on it. Grisha reached out and grasped one of the boar legs by the bone and lifted it from the broth. He shook the leg a little to allow some of the broth to drip off before he brought it to his mouth. His maw parted wide. His canines were slightly more pointed than a normal human’s—if he was human—and they crunched audibly into the tender cooked muscles and tendons of the meat. Turning his head to the side and ripping a chunk of the meat free, he slurped it into his mouth, his cheeks bulging as he chewed. The sponsors used their own tongs to help themselves to the pot as Mr. Haneda made the first bold explanation:

“Where are my manners? Certainly you didn’t invite us to dinner as friends. You must be wondering why we wanted to join you?”

Tobias smiled and lowered his mug. “Why yes. Yes we are.”

Lena glanced between her father and the gentlemen while she quietly ate.

“I am Mr. Toshiro Haneda, owner of Hanware. We’re a famous software company around these parts. There isn’t a single computer that doesn’t have our chips inside them. Do you by chance own a computer?”

All three of the Kousetsu residents stared blankly at Mr. Haneda. A sweat drop descended down the man’s forehead. “Uh, never mind. Aherm, well-”

Mr. Yoshimoto sprang to his feet and exclaimed, “I am Suichi Yoshimoto, and I am a big fan of Grisha! You like food, huh, big guy?”

Grisha grinned proudly. “Yes!”

“You can eat as much as you like if you sponsor my company! All you have to do is say ‘yes!’”

Mr. Haneda’s eyes widened and he thrust a hand up to Grisha just as he was about to echo Mr. Yoshimoto’s request. “Wait-wait-wait! Now wait a minute!” Mr. Haneda turned to Mr. Yoshimoto, his right eye twitching. He muttered angrily and lowly between his grit teeth: “Listen here you little shit. I saw him first. You’re just following me, and if you know what’s best you’ll leave!”

Mr. Yoshimoto grinned coolly before he rested his hands upon his hips and started kicking his feet up in a river dance. “Look Grisha! If you sponsor Moto Tech, you’ll get a monthly shipment of our latest tech!”

Grisha lowered the boar leg from his mouth and pointed it at Mr. Yoshimoto as he danced about. “Little man dance funny! Ha ha ha! Grisha like tiny one!”

Mr. Haneda paled, and his head snapped in Mr. Yoshimoto’s direction and the dastardly grin he was wearing. A dark, ominous shadow fell over the businessman’s eyes then. “All right; let’s play by your rules.”

Mr. Haneda stood to his feet and proudly rested his hands upon his hips. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder at Mr. Yoshimoto. “Why work for him? He’s so small. A big guy needs to be sponsored by a big company, and its big owner.”

Grisha grasped his chin thoughtfully. He hadn’t even thought about that. Mr. Yoshimoto stopped dancing and felt a pang of panic when he saw Grisha actually musing over Mr. Haneda’s statement. “It’s not the size of the box that matters! It’s what’s inside! Hya!” Mr. Yoshimoto kicked Mr. Haneda in the back of his leg, causing it to buckle.

Mr. Haneda winced and jumped away from Mr. Yoshimoto. He raised his hands like two flat knives as he stared the little man down. Mr. Yoshimoto raised his arms and one of his legs in a comical crane stance, and uttered, “Bring it! Waaah!”

Tobias was grinning greedily. Two big companies were fighting over a dumb lummox like Grisha. Not only was it entertaining and surprising, but all he could see was zeni battling before them. They were getting their own slice of the World Martial Arts Tournament.

Grisha was grinning in excitement as he watched the fight. He pumped the half-eaten boar leg into the air and cheered, “Go Tiny Man!”

Mr. Yoshimoto felt his heart skip. Grisha cheered for him? He smiled over at Grisha, cheeks flushed coyly, when all of a sudden Mr. Haneda’s foot met the side of his face. Mr. Yoshimoto’s cheek squished and head snapped to the side as his body went whirling like a rag doll off to the side.

“Damn dwarf!” Mr. Haneda cursed.

“HA HA HA!” Grisha happily laughed.

Lena grasped her forehead. She had no idea what was going on and why everyone was suddenly fighting. The mainland was so crazy.

It took a while but eventually Reo's turn was up. "Do you need any instructions? The seemingly 20 year old girl behind the desk asked. "No thanks." He walked up to the empty chair and put on the helmet gloves and boots. After the program loaded he choose his opponent, he settled on a character based on a long competing but not super talented fighter who stuck to smaller tournaments and he had never actually heard of.

Pretty soon it looked like both Reo and the A.I, a 30 year old human man with spiky black hair, were in a small stadium. He decided not to waste time and copied the fighter whose move he hoped to add to his arsenal. He began spinning his arm as he rushed toward his opponent.

Unfortunately due to the fact that it was easy to guess it was gonna be a punch the A.I character easily dodged it before sweeping the legs out of a still running Reo causing him to trip. Without his sword and lying on his back he really didn't any options to attack so Reo's best bet was to get up before his opponent could pin him down or anything.

Luckily though it seemed the fighter his opponent was based on wasn't known for pinning people down as he just stood there. Reo quickly got and tried the move again this time zig zagging as he ran. The A.I didn't dodge that time but instead took the punch to the chest, but had clearly braced himself and managed to land counter punch to Reo's face. That was enough for him to decide that that attack probably wouldn't work for him. "Too predictable. Well I guess that if I can easily figure out how an attack works I shouldn't be surprised if others can see through it as well."