Tari carried a tray of beautifully made flutes filled with a clear, bubbly liquid that her companions had been told not to drink. Avatars with physical bodies would sometimes grab a full flute or swap it for an empty one. As she was instructed, once every flute was emptied, she was to return to a designated service area to exchange her tray of used dishes for a fresh, full one.
While back there, one of the girls who was dicing vegetables for hors d'oeuvres nicked herself with her blade and cried out. Like a flash, Tari was right there beside her.
"It's not deep, thank the heavens," Tari remarked. She turned to Momo and instructed, "There's a first aid kit by the hand-washing station."
"We'll want to rinse that out, may as well do it there." Momo grabbed the injured girl and helped her wash her hands and tend to the cut.
Tari looked around her and noticed something was off. These girls were following directions, but were lacking direction. She walked around the kitchen with her hands close to her sides, observing what each of her peers was doing.
Tari quickly washed her own hands and went to cover the injured girl's duties. "Momo, help her take over my serving duties, then come back when she's ready," she called out. Her voice rang out through the kitchen with the authority of a mother hen. Momo didn't even question her, just nodded and followed through.
Tari then proceeded to call out to her fellow cooks to get updates on their various tasks. Each girl was so focused on doing their best individually, they didn't acknowledge one another in terms of synchronization. It was barely organized chaos.
Tari then began to channel her mother, who had raised her six older brothers with the efficiency of a drill instructor. Without attitude, arrogance, pleading, or negotiating, Tari called out instructions to each girl about what their next focus should be. And despite being the youngest, no one questioned her. While she chopped vegetables herself, she would ask if the girl handling plating was ready for them, and if not, what they were waiting for.
Within minutes, the kitchen was running like a well-oiled machine. The girls were working hard, but the stress was gone. A leader had stepped up and removed the performance anxiety each girl felt alone. Everyone started addressing Tari as 'chef.'
Okomikeruko, the Messenger Avatar, who was also the Avatar of Feasts, poked his head in and saw his kitchen running with Tari at the helm. He was pleased. It was good. He confidently strode up next to Tari and asked her to report. Without missing a beat, Tari announced exactly what each girl was working on and subsequently when dishes could be expected to be served.
Okomikeruko quietly summoned his spirit rings, went to a specific glyph on the Ring of Feasts, and let Tari see it. "What do you see?"
Tari reached out and touched the glyph. Her eyes turned green. She saw more clearly the nature of what she was doing instinctively. She was no longer channeling her mother's dealings with rowdy boys. She knew in her heart of hearts exactly how to run Okomikeruko's kitchen. Her demeanor shifted only slightly, but it was all the difference in the world.
The girls saw what happened and wondered about it. Okomikeruko pulled up a different glyph, one that represented the role of a cog in his kitchen. One by one, the girls touched it, and their eyes too turned green. They saw both the big picture and their part in it.
"Why didn't we just start like this?" Momo asked.
"Because until you've started on the path of learning, you cannot fully know what it is to learn." And with that, Okomikeruko strode out of the kitchen, knowing it was in good hands.
Allisyn stood next to Tokimi as they watched the tournament together. Not a word was shared among them, but Tokimi recognized Allisyn's bloodline. She came from a noble house that gained its fortunes long ago through virtuous means that supported those around them. Many of that bloodline's deceased had become devoted lesser Avatars, some of whom were present today and were very proud of Allisyn's attendance.
Okomikeruko whispered, "Tari is quite the chef. Have her cook for you on your way home," into Allisyn's ear. She responded with a grateful nod.
The three of them were transfixed as Goji was once again called to the stage to fight.
Allisyn could not hope to understand that boy. He was bandaged and bruised. He had been through three fights already, and at no point had he been healed or restored. The injuries were adding up. Yet here he is, standing up to yet another challenge as if he didn't have a care in the world. What was he hoping to prove? What was his angle?
Tokimi watched, somewhat detached. She nursed her flute of sunberry wine, which occasionally poured its light through her. She continued to lament the absence of her husband's Templars in this tournament. Sure, they were never very successful in combat sports like this, but to have no representation at all was like twisting the knife in her heart just a bit more.
Okomikeruko, meanwhile, watched Goji with great interest. That boy, with one punch, felled one of his favorite Templars: the Tree Dryad. It wasn't even that strong of a punch. How did he do it? He knew Kyou would want to see all of Goji's and Naroki's fights in the Avatar Skybox's Colosseum, with great detail missed by the human eye.
The bell rang.
Goji sprang into action.
His opponent was a ninja from the theatrical moon of Insular, wielding two kamas that whistled as they sliced through the air. This was a notable trait of these particular Templars: they used singing weapons, or rather, weapons that also served as musical instruments.
While many in the Skybox were focused on Goji's fight, Shiratakemaru peeks into the kitchen and sees all the girls with slightly green eyes coordinating perfectly. He narrows his eyes suspiciously and glances toward Okomikeruko, who suddenly gets the feeling he is being watched.
"What did you do?" The tiger-man growled his whisper into Okomikeruko's ear.
"You will need to be more specific," Okomikeruko whispered back.
"The girls in the kitchen. Why are their eyes green?"
"Oh, that. Yeah. Turns out all of these girls' rainbow of divine magic can access every Avatar's glyphs. Tari copied Sumitsu's spirit-sight just by seeing it used on her. I gave her access to my Head Chef glyph and the Cook/Cog glyph to the others."
"You just gave them powers? For fun?"
"Not for fun… well… not entirely for fun. They had figured out already how to be a great kitchen staff all on their own. Tari stepped it up. I just finished what they started themselves."
"So, not a shortcut."
"Not a shortcut. They earned it through hard work."
Shiratakemaru nodded. As the Avatar of Victory, he could not abide shortcuts. He looked about for someone, anyone, who showed a hint of courage in this situation. He sees Momo bravely helping the injured girl find the best way to carry the tray of sunberry wine flutes without aggravating her cut.
"You," It was as gentle as a purr. "You are Momo, correct?"
"Y- yes?" Momo looked up a the giant white tiger-man talking to her.
"I see that you are being courageous, Momo. I am Shiratakemaru, the Avatar of Victory for the God of Courage, Yuukito. I wish to reward you." He summoned his own violet colored Avatar Ring of Victory and found a glyph that represented inner strength.
Momo touched the glyph, and her eyes glowed violet. Immediately, her timid posture vanished. She stood with a confidence she didn't know she could feel. Her injured friend looked on in awe and attempted to show the same bravery.
Touched by her attempt, Shiratakemaru granted the injured girl a chance to touch her finger to a glyph that helped her manage her pain better.
The tiger-man looked over at Okomikeruko, and they shared a knowing glance. These girls had Indigo in them. There was no question. They were the hope Tokimi and the Celestium needed.
Tokimi shared a glance with Okomikeruko and Shiratakemaru and smiled. It had been a very long time since she had felt any hope.
After the first day, muffin vendors increased from one to twenty-seven. Each wore a muffin-themed face-concealing outfit. The Muffin Mascots were evenly distributed among the spectators throughout the Colosseum, selling their confections to eager consumers.
Each wore a muffin-top hat and a mask with a smiley face, and none spoke a word; yet their silence was not a problem since they were exceptionally attuned to the cravings of their potential customers.
Naroki and Sumitsu ordered the same flavors as before, and set aside another for Goji when he returns from his match.
"For luck," they said to each other simultaneously, citing the singular vendor from yesterday. Their playful nod to the superstition was a secret hope, if not for Goji's victory, then at least for his survival.
Naroki had decisively won his past four matches and reached the semi-finals. If Goji is likewise successful in his current bout, they genuinely stand a chance of meeting in the finals.
The crowd had slowly begun to adore these rookies from Solaris. Goji and Naroki had made a name for themselves. Both made quick work of their various opponents. Templars with centuries of experience were in awe of these boys' prowess.
Kyou noted the presence and distribution of the Muffin Mascots. She was certain her accomplice had something to do with these figures. However, the elf was irritated that she had involved others in this scheme. She would have to have a word with that little mad genius.
But that would have to wait. Kyou needed to focus on Goji, who was locked in a bout with the ninja with whistling kamas, and Goji should have lost a while ago.
The young man stood panting, wrapped in gauze bandages that were rapidly turning red from reopened wounds they covered. His opponent, fresh from his other bouts, had been healed by his patron deity's Avatar, as was the tradition of the other fighters during this tournament. But Goji carried every wound that had accumulated since the very first round of the tournament. Sure, Goji represented the God of Willpower, but this was taking it too far.
To make matters worse, Goji fought unarmed against a fighter ten years his senior, who was wielding a pair of kamas. There were no rules against using weapons. Goji could have picked up a sword or shield at any time. Being here, in this ring, knowing what he was up against was his choice. Was it bravery or stupidity that prompted Goji to continue?
Probably stupidity.
At least, that's what Kyou was thinking as she watched the bout from the judges' table—her many years of experience in and out of the ring had honed her elven senses to a degree that intimidated the other judges. She used that ability to mask her emotions well; otherwise, she would storm the stage, shouting at Goji to hurry up and forfeit. At this point, every victory under his belt gained him more recognition and brought him closer to a path that would be much harder.
However, despite her best hopes for Goji's survival through a defeat, she could not let her impartiality as a judge wane. But Goji's survival was becoming a nigh impossible feat when she watched the foolish boy fail to deflect one of his opponent's attacks properly and ended up getting the blade of his kama buried into his shoulder.
Sumitsu dropped the remains of her half-eaten muffin. She clasped her hands to her mouth.
Naroki winced. He knew firsthand the kind of pain Goji must be feeling.
Kyou watched with a mix of horror and hope that this would be the attack that forced Goji to throw in the towel, but this fool kept fighting. Hope drained from Kyou completely. She could only watch in utter despair while Goji roundhouse kicked his opponent in the head, knocking him sideways through the air.
The ninja was already unconscious when he hit the ground.
The rules once again compelled Kyou to declare Goji the winner. He made it to the semifinals. His odds of surviving his next two bouts were quite slim.