She wanted to go home.
Maomao thought as she stirred honey and salt into water.
The venue was the same as yesterday — the Go tournament grounds. Maomao was tucked in a corner of the theater, steadily making drinks.
Yesterday she'd been on duty, and today was her day off. She'd been planning to lounge around the dormitory, reading the medical book she'd borrowed from Liu the physician.
Instead, she was stuck in this place again.
Yao and Yanyan were here too, but like Maomao yesterday, they'd been told to come by Liu. Yanyan enjoyed Go, so she seemed to be having fun with her work.
Maomao would have preferred to tag along with the two of them, but the old man had pointed and said, "You — over here," so here she was in the theater.
The reason went without saying.
She didn't particularly want to recall what had happened yesterday when she'd been brought here.
Still, as always, one fellow had caused a ruckus, another had squawked, and the old man had calmed them both down — that was all she would say about it.
The vast theater was lined with numerous Go boards. On the audience side, the winners from outside matches faced each other, and those who kept winning ascended to the stage, apparently.
Yesterday, only a few had made it through, so the matches against the eccentric strategist had been one-on-one.
Today, more players had won through, and the eccentric was currently playing three opponents simultaneously.
She wondered whether his head would get tangled up, but that sort of thing was what made him an eccentric through and through. He couldn't manage daily life to save his life, yet one after another, his opponents bowed their heads and departed from the Go board.
He occasionally glanced her way and waved, but Maomao ignored him.
"Maomao, is it ready?"
Yao came over carrying a kettle.
"Yes. We're running low on citrus, though, so I'll need more."
Maomao poured the honey-sweetened drink she'd been making into the kettle with a glug.
"Got it."
"Also —"
"What?"
"Shall we switch positions?"
It felt unfair to Yao and En'en, who were running around outside nonstop while Maomao stayed cooped up indoors the whole time.
"Ah, it's fine. No problem."
Yao tapped her ample chest as if to say, "Don't worry about it—just leave it to me."
"More importantly, are we keeping up with the snack supply?"
While patrolling to make sure nobody collapsed from heatstroke, she was also handing out snacks to the participants. They had apparently been included in the participation fee from the start.
"I think we'll run out soon."
Maomao glanced over at the eccentric strategist. Piled up beside her was a mountain of mooncakes and steamed buns.
Apparently, playing board games made you use your brain and start craving sweets.
That was apparently the reason snacks were being distributed too, but the sort of person who would think about all this was— Raban.
—probably. Sweet potato had been mixed into the filling of both the steamed buns and the mooncakes.
The plan was presumably to widely promote sweet potatoes, which hadn't yet been allowed to reach the market in any great quantity.
They were naturally sweet, so less sugar was needed, which in turn kept ingredient costs down.
Incidentally, the snacks being distributed were also available to non-participants through stall sales. Not a single opportunity was being wasted.
"How's it looking outside?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary, I'd say? Just people who kept losing getting into scraps, and kids tripping over themselves in the crowd—minor stuff like that."
"Fights?"
"Just scratches. The military officials are wandering around looking for an excuse to slack off, so they jump in right away. Though whether they're actually doing their jobs or not…"
She picked up the refilled kettle with a weary look on her face.
"Then I'll add more sweets and citrus."
"Yes, please."
Maomao watched Yao head off.
"Hey, Sis—I won one!"
Called over, she made her way to the theater entrance to handle registration for the new arrivals.
(Can't you hire someone else for reception duty?)
Rahan went off and doled out the work on his own, disappearing somewhere.
The men who came up each handed over a tag inscribed with the name of the opponent they had defeated.
Win and you receive a tag from your opponent. Collect three, and you move on to the main hall.
However, not all three-win streaks are created equal — some participants had won by only choosing weak opponents.
Whether that counted as breaking the rules, I asked Rahan about it, and he said, "As long as we collect the entry fee, there's no problem."
(Either way, I'll make sure the weaklings get beaten black and blue.)
Lose once, and you're sent back to the plaza.
Maomao handed out a new tag, a drink, and a mooncake.
"There's someone in the right-side seats waiting for a match. Please go fight them right away."
You can't choose your opponent. The man makes a slightly displeased face, but with no alternative, he moves over to the seats on the right.
If anyone starts refusing opponents they don't like, they'll be shown the door on the spot.
To keep the eccentric from causing any trouble, several of his subordinates are standing by in addition to the old man.
"Excuse me, could I get an extra mooncake?"
A meek, timid-looking man spoke to Maomao.
He wasn't a participant. He was one of the eccentric's subordinates, Rikuson's replacement — a man who had recently taken his place as an attendant. Not particularly martial in appearance, he was of average build.
Rikuson had been a refined man with a strong-willed personality, but this one gave off an unmistakably pushover sort of vibe.
"Understood."
With a look of exasperation — as though to say "already?" — she pulled out the remaining manju with a bored expression.
"Here you go."
"N-no, that's not..."
The subordinate wore an awkward expression, as if he were having trouble putting into words what he needed to say.
"...Would you be able to bring them to Rakan-sama's place?"
"..."
"I-I'm sorry. I can see you're busy with work. I'll take them myself."
The moment he saw Maomao's face, he retracted his request. How accommodating of him.
"Maomao..."
A sorrowful voice reached her ears.
She turned to see the old man standing there.
"Don't make that kind of face."
"What kind of face?"
Maomao forced her expression to relax. Her temples had been twitching, and her lips had been terribly twisted.
"Sorry about that."
Apologizing to the subordinate, the old man turned toward the usual guy.
"Has Rakan been feeling under the weather lately?"
"You can tell?"
The subordinate looked at the old man.
"He was looking forward to today's tournament, and quite unusually—so unusually that it almost seems unbelievable, truly, honestly—you could tell just by looking at him, yes, Rakan-sama has been putting an extraordinary amount of effort into his work."
"..."
Just how little did he normally work?
"Usually he comes to the office before noon and leaves well before the sun sets, but he stayed in the office like a normal person, and more importantly, he didn't even take his nap."
"For him, that's quite impressive. Normally he spends half the day sleeping."
In other words, he had finally reached a normal level of effort.
The old man was staring intently at the eccentric strategist.
Maomao couldn't quite tell, but it seemed he really was exhausted.
When he was playing Go, he was so lively and spirited that it was hard to notice.
"Starting tomorrow you'll have work again, but I hate to ask—could you spare him a little time to sleep? When you're sleep-deprived, your judgment drops dramatically."
"Judgment or no judgment, he seems like he goes off the rails on any given day, though."
When Maomao muttered this, the old man lowered his brows with a slightly lonely expression.
One way or another, the old man had a soft spot for eccentrics.
"Maomao, I'm going to step outside for a quick look around."
"Sure. Call me if anything comes up."
He'd probably be fine just grabbing a nearby military guard if he needed one.
The reason Maomao and the old man had been summoned was all part of Raban's scheme — they could serve as a breakwater against the eccentric strategist. So far the man had been behaving himself, and for the old man, checking whether anyone outside was feeling unwell probably took priority.
"There are a lot of people out there, so be careful."
"I'll be fine."
That was what she said, but the old man walked with a cane due to the injury in one leg. She found herself worrying whether he might stumble and fall amid the crowd, all while quietly pinching off a piece of mooncake.
"They should have prepared rice crackers too."
They were delicious, but she caught herself thinking she wanted something salty, and so she decided to make another honey drink.