The stadium was vibrating, the spectators were stomping on the floor chanting your names before you even broke through the door. The stadium was packed, even the aisles were now occupied with curious onlookers. It was standing room only. You had seen the victor of the first match, perhaps even the full fight if you hurried on in. You would have certain seen the last two unless you were the type to show at the very last moment but whatever it was that you might have been doing outside of the Arena it was not nearly as important as watching the other contestants. The first match was always the wildcard match -- you might think you know what your opponent is going to do. What sort of fighter they really are but it is hard to judge a book by its cover. Did you judge prematurely? Your match was likely to have a combatant just as skilled as those you saw, but their fighting style is anyone's guess. They did a better job than one would have expected cleaning up the arena, you saw what they did out there but there was not a drop of blood on the ground. The stadium itself seemed to be in perfect condition. The spectators utterly safe from harm. Wow. You would never have known that there was a fight here an hour earlier. The crowd was riled, they were still cheering and recounting the previous match when you emerged through the pair of steel doors and now their roar was deafening. Sex and violence were mankind's most primal and basic instincts and it would appear that the people were in a frenzy. It should not surprise anyone that a competition that pitted the world's strongest against each other would attract so much attention or that they would get so excited.
The people of Kurosawa seemed accommodating enough, you were given comfortable living arrangements for the weeks you would spend in Tea Country and meals were delivered to your door promptly at 0600, 1200 and 1800 each day if you ate them or not. They were pretty good even if the fare was primarily fish and vegetables. The people of Kurosawa even seemed excited, even if it was a bit over the top at times. Both of you would have been approached for an autograph several times, hopefully you obliged at least a few. They would scream and carry on that you touched their pen and that they would treasure it forever. Awk-ward... Your face was even printed on a few T-shirts being worn by middle aged men, these people seemed to be very much into fighting.
Perhaps this was what it was like to be a celebrity. The flash of cameras wherever you went and the sudden need for complete strangers to share your personal space. Rest might not have been particularly 'restful' for some, last night a girl knocked on Kaji's door wearing a trench-coat, that being all. She would open her coat and walk on in if she could. If Kaji did not stop her. Apparently she was here to give the guest(s) of this room a 'good time' and her fare was already paid 'gratuitously.' A really cute guy would knock on Azusa's door, claiming he was sent to 'show her a good time before the big day.' If either Kaji or Azusa let them in, they would have a good time ...for the rest of the night. They might have an extra spring in your step, but they would be a bit tired. Apparently he had a bit of Akimichi blood in his background, he was able to unnaturally enlarge a certain body part. *wink* *wink* And the girl, well she had a few extra limbs and they were all kept busy if she was allowed to do her job as intended. *Cough*
Regardless of how you spent the evening before -- be it sleeping or the night of your life, the big day has finally come. It was the day of the tournament and the air was abuzz! Someone was waiting for you when you opened the hotel room door. "Finally," a cloaked man would announce as he stepped into the hall. The moment previous he was not visible, except his shadow. "I am Ryuunosuke, your escort to the Hisashī Zenshōsen Arena. I have been sent here to ensure your safety. Yes-yes, I am aware of your incredible martial prowess" he did not sound particularly convinced but he did not sound sarcastic either. "However you are unaware of our country's customs and our concerns surrounding their potentially detrimental behavior. You see, we have people from all over the world in Tea Country. This tournament is not an exception as we have always been a sort of 'melting pot' I suppose." He would beckon you to follow him as he led you down the hall and out of the hotel. "But therein is a problem, many of the people here at this tournament do not have your... or anyone besides their own for that matter, best interests at heart. It is likely that someone will attempt to accost you enroute to the tournament if they have not already. Nothing overt, just something to ensure victory for the person that they wish to win." He explained it perhaps simpler than he should but shinobis from their respective countries were never particularly bright, just capable.
He would lead you through the city. On multiple occasions someone would start to approach you, with paper, drink or trinket in hand but before they could reach you unless you accepted their 'boon' Ryuunosuke would step in their path with a near mechanical proficiency. "No." That was all he would say, nothing more... nothing less. The casually clothed civilian would simply meander away. "Nothing is truly free, not here. Something you best learn early I suppose, just not on my watch. That was Hirabayashi Shouhei, a merchant from this city. He is a betting-man, always has been. 50-50 chance he was going to seal something on you or unlock something. I assure you, the odds are ever against your favor." He explained the situation again rather simply. He had no reason to go into detail, if they were smart enough they already understood what was going on. About why they were being 'protected.' He was not going to explain it of course, but again as he said -- nothing is ever free.
You would be led around the Arena. From the outside the Arena was rather imposing, there were four statues with their backs towards you that appeared to be looking down into the arena. The walls were rather high, three hundred feet, perhaps more by your best estimation. The grey stone had something etched into it, into every single brick. If Ryuunosuke was asked about the bricks, he would explain. "Protection seals, cannot have the building crash down around you." Logical. He would lead you to an unmarked door that was flanked by a pair of guards, each wore the regalia of a samurai. They would look over at Ryuunosuke and grant entry with a nod. Apparently this private hall was well-guarded, another pair of samurais would eye you cautiously as you entered the hall. The hall would be otherwise undecorated and plain.
You would be led to a private locker room, your name on the door. You might recognize a few of the other names as well, fellow compatriots from your village or some famed shinobi from abroad. You would be summoned a few hours later, in the mean time you would be left to your devices -- eat, sleep, watch TV, call your wife on a headset, pray... [Yes, pick whatever amenities you want in the room] The same man would knock on your door, "It is time for your match," he was as serious as always when he said it. He would lead the way. He would lead you to a steel door painted white, it would be sealed shut. "The door will open at 3:00, be malleable." He would point at a clock, you had a few more minutes left. The sound of the ticking clock was deafening and the time would seem to pass slowly despite it being only a few minutes but the doors would eventually unlock and with a trumpet fanfare as well as confetti you would be queued to make an entrance. Half the show was about the spectacle. The other half... let's call it 'fighting.'
Notes:
- Sand shinobis would recognize the language being used is a form of Runic Terran, however they would not be able to make out what was said.
- Kaji would notice something unusual about the clothes Ryuunosuke was wearing. They are intended for climates that are cooler than where they presently are.
- Please IC make your entrance post. Remember that you have 2 free travel event threads for this event. This will occupy one of your two. you do not need to lave your village to participate in this event, however if two is too few for you, then some actual travel is required.
- This time marks the receipt of your profile. It will be copied and given to your moderator as well as logged. Your moderator will be Sanyu. Your previously anticipated moderator is unable to access Discord and notified us that he is not capable of participating as a moderator since his altered access.
- Please send your actions to Sanyu. Remember to link everything. You have until January 10th to do so.
From a high-rise hotel balcony, Kaji Okada could see it all. 
It was time. Azusa stepped through the doorway into the arena, but nothing could have prepared her for what had lay beyond. 
Something was wrong. She could feel it. Her attention was drawn elsewhere; her eyes lost focus of the enemy in her grip, and instead began to scan through the sea of spectating faces surrounding them, her golden ears twitching and shifting as they attempted to locate what she perceived as the true threat. 
He pulled back the cuff of his sleeve to reveal one forearm covered in detailed body art. Vivid red scales and golden glyphs made the image of a magnificent red dragon— the Thousand Scaled God, the deity of the Oasis clan kin. Kaji began weaving hand seals and drove a thumb painted with his own blood down the forearm, completing the ritual. 
Golden eyes shined like priceless bobbles gleaming in a treasure trove, diligently monitoring the spinning world around them. Images of crossing blades and shinobi magic reflected off of them, as he, Rhokul, found his place with the dance of battle. And what a battle this was— not the most impressive to a creature such as Rhokul, but a foreign experience, unlike anything he encountered before. Sure, his father had told him stories of the humans and their fighting pits. In fact, there were countless tales of the Oasis Clan’s greatest warriors being exposed to the violence humans could create in these coliseums… centuries of enslavement before the Guardian had come to set things on a corrected course. But now, the disappointment within Rhokul burned like taking a hot cattle prod— the kind his ancestors took when they were taken as property. His sensitive snout detested the scents of countless beady-eyed two-leggers. Imagine the trust it took for Rhokul to stay and honor the pact for Kaji Okada with so many humans joined to watch their bloodshed. “His wife and babe” groused the alpha-lizard, who had followed Kaji Okada into the fray just moments ago.
Amidst her wandering mind, her attacks became sloppier; unfocused. Kaji had seized this opportunity to slip between her strikes, wavering in and out of her view, and deflect her next attack while countering her with a clean sword blow to her side, causing her to recoil backward and halt her assault. This punishment caused her smug expression to flip to a scowl. 
“In this shinobi life I have done many deeds; my fortune has sometimes led to triumph, while others were much less glorious. As your father I’ve spent these years hoping to leave a legacy you can benefit from; if my heirloom blade does not serve you as well as it did me, I do hope you learn from this tale as I did. And as I write my story as legend, take from my victories what you would from my failures— lessons on the value of persevering through your trials, and having the patience to find your way when the path is unclear. In the battle with Azusa Toraono-Aikayume, I found myself fighting a new kind of foe, yet the battle shared so many similarities to an experience from my youth.
Whether in victory or defeat, every bout seemed to end this way. Could Kaji Okada have asked for more of his body than to give his absolute best on the battlefield? There was doubt in Kaji that he had done his best, but there was no sadness when he felt his strength sapping and his legs giving way. His knees made dents in the red soil of the arena floor as he recognized himself dropping onto it, struggling to not keel over. Rather than falling face-first he planted the blade edge of his saber and leaned against the hilt with his hand gripping it tightly. He clung to his dignity then, even though being brought to his knees was just what his foe ached to bring to fruition.