Robert
Chiyoko was dreading this bout, but she couldn't do anything about it. 

There was no doubt in her mind that Atsuko would make it this far. The ronin was young, fast, and almost entirely unpredictable, moving with a style that was truly undefinable. There was no doubt in Chiyoko's mind that Atsuko would be a great samurai one day, and more likely than not, a better swordsman than herself. 

Some day. Today, today would not be that day. 

Chiyoko kneeled at her starting place, awaiting her challenger and finding her center. She didn't have the means to combat Atsuko under normal circumstances; she watched Atsuko's bouts carefully, and she was furiously quick. She didn't fight like a Crane or a Dragon or anything in between. This would be a challenge. 

When Atsuko took her place, Chiyoko would stand to address her. "Atsuko-san, my friend." She bowed to her fellow ronin, showing deep respect. "I should have known it would be you that I face." She rose up and smiled. "Thank you, for your friendship and your advice over these months. I want you to know that I have a lot more respect for you, fellow ronin, than any of these other duelists I've faced today. 

"That said, I intend to defeat you today. I pray our friendship will survive the outcome." Chiyoko's eye turned determined and steely as she shifted into her _Kamae,_ and took her place. 

__Phase One, Intro: Begin!__
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Donnetta
The tournament had gone better than expected, though it was difficult to say what Atsuko's expectations were going into the event. She had never put much stock into the practice of iaijutsu as an art form—ronin were scarcely given the chance to adjudicate legal disputes. More often than not if a member of the clans saw fit to challenge them to a duel, it was settled away from prying eyes where less-than-savory tactics could be employed. But her time Ryoko Owari Toshi proved to be the exception to that rule, as not only had she drawn officiated steel, but had been allowed to best one of the Kakita's very own in their tournament.

There was a satisfaction to be had in that much. The overmighty Crane were usually the sort in need of humbling. Victory in her next bout, however, could only ring hollow by comparison. It had been some time since the wave-woman had laid an eye on her opponent. A surprisingly tender moment was shared in the Dragon embassy, where she helped Chiyoko find her resolve to seize her life by the reins and direct it somewhere of true value: redemption. 

There was little doubt in Atsuko's mind that the former Dragon had enrolled in the tournament in pursuit of that redemption. Perhaps she hoped that victory would lend credence to her cause, to show her family that she was a worthy scion once more. In the face of such grand ambitions, snubbing a particularly snub-worthy family for the sake of it seemed rather childish. 

But she couldn't simply forfeit the match. That much would be an insult to her opponent more than anything. So the young warrior made her way into the arena, where her opponent knelt waiting. A bow was offered in kind as Chiyoko offered her the courtesy of kind words.

"You should have known it'd be us. I imagine our benefactors could not stomach the thought of two wanderers dominating the finals. Better to pit us against each other and save some face."

Her inexperience was something of a liability in the match to come. She knew the basic principle behind *Niten* As a style well enough, of course, but knowing the opponent would use two blades to attack and defend in kind did little to inform the best way to triumph over it. She knew her strengths well enough—but knowing an opponent's strengths often made the difference in contests of skill.

"If that's what they want, though... Might as well give them a good show."

The young swordswoman settled into her stance, bracing her left hand against her scabbard as she slid the lacquered wood forward in her sash. 

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Robert
"You're not wrong, Atsuko-san. No one wants to see a ronin win this tournament." It was a shame; she didn't want to lose here. She _needed_ to win here. But she'd rather not duel someone she actually cared about. A good friend was hard to find, and she knew all too well how a duel could lead to hatred and more violence. She touched her patched eye as the memory returned. 

But, it couldn't be helped. Atsuko made a good point. They should put on a good show for these people. 

"You're right. Let us show them what we wave-women are capable of." 

 

Chiyoko settled into her stance. She had no way of knowing what Atsuko's play would be, so the lost dragon settled for a stance she could rely on. _Dragon overlooks the lake._ A simple stance, but one that allowed the user to retreat, bolt, flank, or otherwise move as necessary. It was a weaker stance than most, but it was the safer option. 

Atsuko was fierce, and shorter than Chiyoko. To strike her, the ronin would need to maintain a lower stance. Smaller target, less margin for error. She could not beat her the way she defeated any of her other opponents. 

Taking a deep breath, she shifted her swords. Katana on the right, wakizashi on the left, and crossed her arms, hands hovering over the green-wrapped hilts.
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Donnetta
With her opponent's words, Atsuko's lone eye closed as she braced for the trial to come. There was nothing more to linger on: one of them would win, and one of them would lose. The consequences of their clash would be for the Atsuko of the future to sort out. In the moment, she was to be nothing more than a sword. The ronin allowed the anxiety that had balled itself into her stomach to escape her with a single, centering breath. Then, when the last of it had cleared her lips, her eye snapped open with a fiery glisten amidst its onyx hue. 

Her experience with the Empire's great dueling schools was relatively limited. She had always been more comfortable in the sort of frenzied swordplay that unfolded along the muddy banks of a spring road, or the crowded alleyways of an urban sprawl. The Mirumoto were a family famous enough for their technique, though. Every bushi who deigned to wield a blade knew of their propensity to bring both components of their daisho to bear against an opponent. It stood to reason that—if she meant to employ her family's hallmark technique in their duel—her opponent would use it to split her attention between two threats and capitalize on the disarray in her stance. 

Overwhelming offense seemed the obvious answer. If she threw herself at her foe with enough ferocity that Chiyoko was forced to bring both her blades to bear in defense, then it would limit her ability to leverage the advantage of two vectors of attack. But something about the way she settled herself caused Atsuko to pause. She seemed almost wary, adopting a reactive stance that the younger ronin could only imagine was meant to give her the broadest possible set of responses to their initial draw. 

It was that realization that brought Atsuko from the torrent of possibilities to the very stage they stood on. They were not to engage in a heated battle to the death. Their bout was a simple match to first blood. If she could score a shallow strike on the opening draw, there would be no need for a hasty countermeasure to the legendary Niten-ryu. 

A second centering breath left Atsuko as she allowed the tension to melt from her shoulders. Though she continued to brace her sword against her hip, the young woman made no greater attempt to posture against her foe. It was a loose, easy stance, one meant to simultaneously allow for ease of movement while giving as little away as possible until the last moment. If Chiyoko meant to react to whatever strike she intended to throw, then Atsuko would endeavor to deny her the foresight necessary until the very last moment. 

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Robert
Just as she feared, Atsuko was hard to read. Her stance was unlike any other, truly the stance of a wave-woman. Being one herself, Chiyoko didn't dare underestimate the lack of formal training for ineptitude. Atsuko didnt' get to where she was in the tournament -or the city, for that matter- by being weak. And she defeated a Pheonix in a duel of great importance. Even if the Phoenix aren't especially known for their dueling, it'd be foolish to slouch now. 

She _did_ notice that her own stance seemed to be unexpected to her opponent, which was good. When it came down to it, Atusko was surely faster on the draw. That much, Chiyoko knew. All she could hope now is that her defense she'd honed for years would be enough to win the day. 

__Phase Three: Mind Battle__ 

So. _Dragon overlooks the lake._ The lake in front of her was small, really, and her opponent, the wolf that was the ronin, stood on the other side. The problem with lakes was, some were so vast that one could not see to the other side. Too many angles to choose from. And while she had found closer inner peace than ever, that didn't mean she was any closer to predicting the movements of others. 

Thus, Chiyoko imagined her most chaotic battle. The one where she barely survived the fray, when technique was unavailable and she attacked like her life depended on it. That was the ronin way. 

She predicted, from her own thoughts, Atusko coming right at her, but only to come around to the side with her blazing speed. Surely Atsuko-san was swift enough to change the momentum, and go for Chiyoko's blindspot. If that was the case, Chiyoko may just have a ways of defeating her: If Fortunes shined on her, she could deflect the incoming blow with her katana, staying low, and draw her wakizashi to jab into the stomach of Atsuko. Just enough to break skin, that was all that was required. It wouldn't be pretty, nor elegant, but it might just work. 

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Donnetta
There was a palpable tension in the air as the time to draw began. Atsuko had often heard it described as the calm before the storm: a state of heightened awareness that was intoxicating to those who made careers of dressing up the act of cutting down another. She had never much enjoyed it herself. The uncertainty, the nerves... Perhaps it was an acquired taste for those who lived otherwise peaceful and uneventful lives. A rare rush amidst the bland comforts of the privileged. 

Atsuko was no career duelist. She did not have the benefit of generations of teachings and techniques. Chiyoko might have wandered the Empire as a masterless warrior, but she was not born to such a life. She had a lifetime of orthodoxy drilled into her before being cast out into the waves. Trying to match her in technical matters was likely a fool's errand. No, if there was an advantage to be leveraged over the older ronin, it was leveraging the unorthodox. The techniques passed by word-of-mouth and honed with personal experience.

In the fraught few moments before their clash, she considered how best to approach the situation. Her opponent had assumed a defensive stance that committed in no particular direction over another. It was clear enough that she intended to react to whatever it was Atsuko intended to do—banking on her ability to counter faster than the incoming strike. It was not the first time she had experienced such a tactic. The Phoenix ambassador had done something similar in their bout. The answer to such a tactic was immediately obvious: trick her into responding to a strike that would never come.

In her mind's eye, she saw it unfold. Her left hand braced on her scabbard, her right on the hilt. In the split second that followed the judge's bellow to begin, she twisted the blade in her sash and pulled hard. One hand propelled the lacquered wood in her sash backward while the other slid it forward into what looked to be a typical draw cut. In such a position, it was hard to generate enough force to hew through flesh or bone, but that was never the objective of the tournament in the first place. Her cut lashed out like a steel viper, aiming to just barely nick her opponent's abdomen with a wide, single-handed horizontal stroke. 

Or so she hoped Chiyoko would believe. She needed the senior wave-woman to believe it. To commit to defending against an almost amateurish blow in the moments it took her steel to clear her scabbard and whip forward. Her arm folded inwards as the blade whistled forward, her wrist twisting such that the blade ended with its edge skywards, its tip pointed towards Chiyoko's chest thanks to their difference in height. Her off-hand rushed forward to brace against the pommel of her well-loved blade, and with all the force her legs could muster, she lunged forward with her true intention: a lightning-quick thrust to bring the match to a conclusion before any bystanders even knew what had happened. 

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Robert
__Phase 4: Draw!__

Just as she feared, there was no standard to rely on when it came to Atusko. The mind's eye gave Chiyoko many ideas, hence her lake stance, but that didn't help things. Atsuko had her outpaced in speed, she knew it. That quickdraw would come out at breakneck speed, so Chiyoko couldn't afford to make any adjustments. She had one shot at this. One block, one slash. 

And so, there was the impasse, all in Chiyoko's own head. She controlled her breathing, and relaxed. Atusko was an honorable woman, and a friend. To lose to her would be a great hindrance to Chiyoko's quest, but it would not be a defeat that would lead to hate or anger. Losing to someone like Atsuko... She could respect it. Their friendship would survive it. But, it would be a great disservice to Atsuko and all ronin like her not to give it her all. 

Thus, when the faintest movement of blade leaving sheathe came from Atsuko, Chiyoko made her move. She stepped backwards instead of forward, taking into consideration the better speed of the agile Atsuko, and drew her blades as one. It was all up to her discipline and countering to take the win. 

|| Defense 5 and Dual Emphasis in Katana and Wakizashi are what's really coming into play with this one. If Chiyoko is able to see the feint, she may just be able to counter. Ambidexterity strength helps with having the hand-eye coordination to perform the block with either blade, and reposition a blade to strike Atsuko if needed. Her Iaijutsu is lower, but maybe the Assessment emphasis makes the feint more apparent? Either way, stinky ronin team wins, so
Donnetta
With her plan laid out within her mind's eye, there was little for Atsuko to do but wait. To *Endure*. The tension in her body was like the pressure of a mighty river, building up against a dam of increasingly thin self-control. When the dam finally breached, all the ferocity of the river beyond would flood forward in an instant and bring the match to a close. In the face of such ferocity, she could only hope her opponent had the strength to withstand the flood to come.

Then the judge's call came and she was already in motion. Her scabbard shot backward with such force it might have just slid from her obi were it worn any looser. The sword, loosed from its home, lashed out in a flash of gleaming steel as it hurdled towards her opponent's side. The well-honed blade was only in motion for a fraction of a second before she unleashed her ruse, however—just long enough for an exceptional warrior to catch its arc and prepare a parry. But her wrist twisted hard and fast before it could reach its apex, and rather than slicing Chiyoko's side, it flew skyward.

By the time her palm braced on the back of her sword to unleash her stroke, Atsuko's eye caught her opponent's motion: she had backpedaled away in the hopes of receiving the coming strike. The lunge would prove essential after all. All she needed to do was drive the leveled tip of her blade. Drive it *Through* Her opponent. Then it would be over.

And in that moment of realization, Atsuko recognized that she had erred. She did not *Want* To drive through Chiyoko. Her swordplay had always been aggressive. It was the sole means through which she lived. The lone tool in her arsenal to ensure she survived her struggle to the top. It was not the practiced, elegant stroke of the Kakita who so arrogantly proclaimed dominion over life and death at the tip of their blade, nor was it the gentle caress of the few Ide who solemnly embraced iaijutsu as a means of conflict dispute. It was the river, bursting through the dam and washing away all in its path. 

And the person standing before it was a friend.

Were it some haughty Lion or smug Scorpion, she might have pressed onward without hesitation. Struck with all the might she had and pierce through them like so much rice paper in the face of a tempest. But the thought of what could have been—the fallout of Chiyoko not reacting to her feint in time—nearly stayed her hand. The lightning-quick thrust meant to secure her domination faltered in the space between heartbeats. The diminutive ronin instead whipped her sword back around in a wide, horizontal arc towards her opponent's forearm before she even committed to her initial blow.
Robert
Chiyoko's reading seemed accurate. The slash was coming, crazy quick and just as expected. Chiyoko's blades slipped the sheaths as fast as she could muster, ready to reach out and deflect Atsuko's katana. 

But then, the stance changed. Just as fast as Atsuko had cleared and seemingly commited to the slash, she was manuevering into another technique, a lunge that Chiyoko wasn't going to be fast enough to defend. Despite this, the ronin tried to meet the blade, otherwise she might just-

Wait, that lunge could... Was Atsuko... 

Chiyoko took her eye off Atsuko's katana long enough to meet her friend's. She was ready to strike, but she looked just as shocked at the realization as she was. She was going at this like a duel to the death. The way any wave-woman forced to survive might. Chiyoko didn't even bother being insulted. That fact Atsuko felt she needed to go to kill was a compliment, in a morbid way. 

_'I will need to thank her for sparing my life today,'_ Chiyoko thought. 

Atsuko's reposition to not lethally wound Chiyoko was just enough of a change to give Chiyoko time to defend. She could feel her wakizashi groan from the meeting of metal on metal, but she couldn't quit yet. She nearly fell over entirely to defend the blow, so with near hyperextension, Chiyoko thrust her katan forward as well, just enough to glance Atsuko in the side. The barest amount of blood would splurt, but just enough to end this duel. 

"Hold!" The judge raised his hand, and chopped it down towards Chiyoko. "The winner of this duel is Chiyoko-san, Ronin!" 

There was no fanfare from the Crane that amassed, a few murmurs and ponderous comments from those that remained, not all that interested in two ronin dueling. Only those that understood how close and dangerous this duel actually was were in awe, and gave a modicum of praise. 

Chiyoko was breathing heavily, sweat rolling down her forehead. She ended up falling back onto her butt, and awkwardly got up. "Atsuko-san..." She found her breath, and bowed deeply to her friend. "I'm honored for what you've done. Thank you for your restraint." She would offer the rather unorthodox handshake that the Unicorn were keen on, to further express her respect. "And thank the Fortunes that you're my friend, and not my enemy. I wouldn't stand a chance otherwise." 

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