[center][h2][color=black][b]KUROKAMI MAKOTO[/b][/color][/h2][/center]

Standing just beyond the door of the arena entrance, stood Kurokami Makoto. Like a living statue, her posture was immovable, arms crossed and stance wide. Her expression was just as rock-solid, an unblinking mask of determination. However, that was exactly what this stance was: a mask. Internally, Makoto was so excited she could hardly contain herself. In fact, she really wasn't able to contain herself at all. Despite standing perfectly still, small bursts of ki kept erupting from her like invisible firecrackers.

And who could blame her? This was her first true tournament, practically on a world's stage. It took some convincing (threatening) to get her, essentially a no-name fighter, into the competition, but using her grandfather's name here and there greased the wheels. She wasn't overly pleased that she had to rely on his reputation to get a place in the tournament, but if nothing else she was confident that after her performance here, she wouldn't have to ever again.

It was almost time, and she gave herself one last check-over. Rather than her usual attire of stylish black clothes, she instead wore the traditional gi of her grandfather's temple. Black of course, with the white belt worn by students and disciples. It peeved her slightly that she still held no official rank within the temple, but that was all bound to change. She ran a hand through her hair, ensuring that in was still as silky-smooth as it had been this morning. A lesser fighter might have tied up her hair, but Makoto wasn't one to sacrifice beauty for such a minor advantage. She pouted slightly, noticing that it was starting to frizz. Was it about to rain?

Finally she could hear the loudspeakers call out, ".[b]..Our first round competitors! From Okayama Prefecture, the Goddess of Battle, Kurokami Makoto![/b]"