Chapter 7
The Burning Wait Before the Duel

In her tale, Mayoko paints a vivid picture of her situation at that crucial duel, her words evoking the physical trials she had to face that morning.

It was very hot, she begins, a shiver of unease passing through her voice. I was seated on the platform in the courtyard, directly under the burning rays of the sun. Obliged to remain facing the game table, I found the heat almost overwhelming.

She runs a hand along her arm, as if to recall the feel of the fabric on her skin. The kimono I was wearing, magnificent though it was, was not the most comfortable for such an occasion. The inner fabric, probably hemp or linen, was rough and chafed my skin with every movement, especially because of the perspiration.

Mayoko mimics the gesture of scratching herself discreetly, her expression reflecting a growing discomfort. I felt an unbearable prickling and itching on my skin, which gave me a constant urge to scratch.

Her gaze then drops to her imaginary clothes. The kimono was also adorned with intricate embroidery and metallic motifs. These decorations, splendid as they were, made the garment heavy and cumbersome. I felt hampered in my movements, as if the weight of the garment were holding me back.

Finally, she touches her waist with her fingertips. The obi, that long sash that holds the kimono in place, was bound tightly around my waist. It was difficult to breathe properly, to bend or to move with ease. Every movement required a considerable effort.

In the silence that envelops the room, a slight change can be perceived in the participants' breathing, which grows deeper or more hesitant as empathy and concern for Mayoko's tale make themselves felt. Mayoko, in a voice marked by hard-tested endurance, goes on describing the difficulties she encountered during that decisive confrontation.

As the sun continued its course across the sky, I began to feel the symptoms of dehydration, she says, her voice betraying a growing weakness. To try to relieve my thirst, I drank the whole cup of tea that was within my reach.

She pauses, pensive. The tea had... a certain taste, indefinable, neither pleasant nor unpleasant. Simply unusual.

She recalls the atmosphere around the platform. At the end of the day, the spectators gathered around the platform, forming a noisy, impatient crowd. They watched me closely, some murmuring prayers, perhaps in the hope of influencing the outcome of the duel.

Mayoko pauses, her expression hardening slightly. At times, showers of salt rained down on me, thrown in my direction by the spectators. The grains of salt struck my kimono, making it damp and sticky. She passes her hand over her arm, as if to feel the salt on her skin. The salt burned my skin through the fabric, and I began to sweat profusely. Grains gathered in my hair, making it heavy and unruly.

Her gaze drifts for a moment. Shortly after drinking that tea, a slight confusion came over me, which I at first put down to the heat. But looking back, I wonder... Her voice trails off, leaving the question hanging.

She gently touches her face, evoking a painful sensation. More grains of salt struck my face, making me weep in spite of myself. It felt like thousands of needles pricking my skin.

With a note of relief in her voice, Mayoko reaches a key moment in her tale. At last, as evening began to fall, the gokenin arrived. The long-awaited duel was finally about to begin.

The audience, captivated by Mayoko's story, feels almost physically the ordeals she endured.