The arena was open for inspection before the match that day. The candidates entered through the side gate, and one group turned at the registration desk and formed a line.
Two more groups waited outside the side gate, taking their turns without crowding one another. No one entered until their turn came.
The Stagehand sat behind the desk, checking them in one by one with a pen and letting those marked present into the courtyard.
The register lay open, one line per person, with room at the end of each line for the attendance mark.
The first few finished checking in and headed toward the center of the arena, each stepping more lightly than the last.
Then it was Kiyoshi's turn.
Kiyoshi took the pen and marked himself present. Its tip paused against the desk before he returned it to the pen tray. Half a measure of ink remained in the tray.
He took off the blindfold and passed it through the duty room's window opening.
Someone sat behind the desk inside. He reached out to take it without looking up.
The paper stayed in Kiyoshi's sleeve. He did not hand it over.
Anko stood beside the registration desk, supervising entry. Her gaze swept over the line and lingered on his back.
"Anyone who's checked in, go inside."
Kiyoshi went in.
The arena stood empty, with wooden markers planted on all four sides and a boundary of white lime scattered along them. The lime was fresh; no feet had scuffed the line beside the markers.
Another circle had been marked out in the center. The ground inside it was where the match would take place.
His soles touched the arena floor. The earth was loose, softer than the path outside.
The patch in the southeast corner was different again.
Its