Chapter 3 - Roommate Rumble!

“What’s that say?”

Spike pointed above the dresser drawer at the wall scroll, black ink in sweeping, elegant kanji. All and all, Kengo and Spike’s dorm room was tiny—made even smaller due to Kengo’s size—and minimally furnished, with two desks, two chairs, a shared wardrobe, and a bunkbed to fill things out. The wall scroll was the only personal object in the room, minus some toiletries on the shelf.

Kengo tugged his bathrobe chord around his formidable waistline and nodded to the piece of art. He still smelled like citrus from his long shower. “It says 'Aonuma Shrine',” he said calmly. “That is my temple back home.”

“Temple?

“Yes. I was raised in a temple. We are spirit summoners.” He said this matter-of-factly, and with great, glowing pride. It was the first time Spike had seen Kengo smile. He hoped it would not be the last.

The concept was beyond Spike, but he was intrigued. “My teacher said that magick was different all over the world. I guess how you would have learned is it different than me, huh?

“Mmmm.”

Kengo was a man of few words, and Spike attributed this his shyness. It was hard to imagine a big, hunky bear like that as someone lacking in confidence, but Spike didn’t push it.

He’d had his fill of tacos from the cantina, and now his body desired sleep. Fortunately, Kengo seemed inclined towards rest as well. Navigating new roommates was always a bit of awkward push-and-pull, and it was apparent to Spike that Kengo was more of an introvert. A bit like pulling teeth, Spike thought, frowning.

Kengo spoke with sweeping gestures, and Spike suspected this was due to his concerns over language barrier. Though his accent was pronounced, his English was perfect, Spike thought. The big, handsome bear pointed to the bunkbed and then to Spike. “Top or bottom?”

“Both.” Spike blinked. “Oh, you mean the bed? Ummm…top, I guess.”

“Good,” Kengo said. He scratched his head. “I am very big. I would be afraid to be on the top, just in case it breaks and I end up crushing my small roommate.”

“I am not that small,” Spike said. And to illustrate this—and because he was literally about to crawl into bed—Spike removed his night shirt. Pale abs and pecs even more luminous under the utilitarian halogen lightning.

Kengo’s face filled up red. “S-SPIKE!” He averted his eyes. “You cannot just DO that!”

“What, take off my shirt?” Mischief crossing his mind, Spike removed his sweatpants. Clad in baby blue briefs, he turned hips, getting a good look at himself in the full-length mirror attached to the wall.

“AHH!” Kengo turned fully around. “You….you sleep naked?”

“Oh yeah, I did when I was in the Navy. Hahaha. My housemates used to call me ‘kickstand’ because—"

“Hnnnngggggg” Kengo crouched over. “S-s-say no more! I sleep in my fundoshi but not usually when other guys are around.”

Spike frowned. “Hey, I don’t have any issues with nudity, but I’ll keep my underwear on if you want. Why so shy about it? You look like…well…a god.” Now it was Spike’s turn to blush.

Kengo flinched, but Spike thought he saw him turn his head slightly around. “Which one?”

“What do you mean?”

“In Japan there are many gods. Some beautiful, some ugly, some strange.”

“Oh! Well...uh...you would have to be the beefiest, hunkiest one there is!"

Kengo cupped his hands to his face. “R-really?”

“Mhmm! Hey, and if you’re a bit self-conscious about body issues…well…you’re in good company. Because...well...so am I.” Spike shrugged, deciding it was best to climb up the ladder to his bunk. He laid down and stared at the popcorn ceiling.

“I have always felt not as handsome as some other spellbreakers,” Kengo said, still with his back turned. "Like my friend Rai, back home. He has so many muscles, and his pants look like they are painted on!"

I would like to know more about this...Rai, Spike thought. But, he decided to focus on the mutual exchange. “I’m starting to feel very small and not as muscular,” Spike replied. "The guys here are huge."

“But…you have the abd…” Kengo tripped over his words. “The six pack! And the pectorals. And the arms.”

“It’s easy for us shorties to look muscular. I’d rather be a big hunky bear like you!”

“Oh really?” Kengo turned around, at last, and gave Spike a big, happy grin. “Well, thanks. It seems we are both worried about our bodies. It is nice for someone to understand me. Hmm. I noticed you also have a tattoo on your back.”

“Oh, my tramp-stamp anchor? Yeah, when you’re in the navy and you cross the equator, it’s a tradition to get one. I just decided to go for the sluttiest placement!”

“Hmm. My tattoo is perhaps, not as ‘slut’—as you would say. But it is very traditional.”

“You have one too? Whaaat." Spike rolled over on to his side and propped his head up with his arm. "Are we back tattoo buddies?”

Kengo swallowed. “I…could...maybe...show you?”

“Only if you’re comfortable.”

“You are a comfortable person,” Kengo said. He sighed, then undid his bathrobe, letting his robe fall to his waistline.

Spike marvelled at the artistry, and suddenly felt a bit of tattoo envy. “Kengo, buddy, that’s a work of art!

“Th-thank you,” Kengo said, quickly doing his robe back up. “It took a long time. It was very painful. But it was important...because that tattoo is my spirit partner.”

“Spirit partner?” Spike wasn’t sure he understood. In any case, Kengo had crawled into the bed below him, vanishing from view. Spike heard the bed creak and then a sigh, with Kengo’s robe falling to the ground shortly thereafter. Oh yeah—can’t be naked if you’re under blankets, now, can you Kengo? Truly, Spike was outmatched by intelligence.

“I will show you what I mean tomorrow tomorrow. We have drills with Colt.” He yawned deeply. “They are…intense.”

Getting drilled by Colt was probably not going to be as fun as it initially sounded in Spike’s head. “Hm. I can only imagine.” Couldn’t be worse than training sessions with Mr. Iron though…could it?

Kengo flicked the light switch, casting them into deep darkness. Back in New York, you could count on light pollution to illuminate a room just a little but. Out here in the country? It was pitch black. And quiet. Spike didn’t like it. He’d been exhausted all day but now, of course, his body didn’t want to sleep...

He rolled over and faced the wall, trying to push away the fear of falling out of the bed in the middle of the night and cracking his pretty, blonde head on the tile floor. He resorted to an old trick of his. “The USS Merlin. The USS Circe. The USS Alcina. The HMS Morgana. The RM Prospero. The HMS Sarastro. The Night Queen.”

“Huh? What are you saying, Spike?”

Great, he probably thinks I’m a fuckin’ maniac now. “Er…it’s something I sometimes do to help me get to sleep. I go over the names of some of the ships I know. Most naval ships are named after famous sorcerers and sorceresses.” He pressed his head into his pillow and decided that the mess hall tacos weren’t sitting well with him. “My brain is…busy.”

“Ah. It is the same with ships in Japan. Our head priest’s brother was stationed on the Abe-No-Seimei.”

“Neat,” Spike said, absently. He remembered then that Japan had been divided during the war, with some favoring the anti-Alban forces, and others siding with the Empire. It would probably be uncouth to ask Kengo what side his temple fought for. Spike had ported briefly in Yokohama but hadn’t seen much of Japan while he was there (had some great sake though). All he knew is that when it came to magick, Japan was proficient in spiritual matters and divination. Supposedly, there were those there who could call favor from the gods if they willed it.

Kengo was out like a light within minutes. Spike knew this because the snoring that followed was enough to make him grab his pillow and cover his own face to block out the sounds. 

“Mmmmmnnggggggg.” Spike groaned into the stuffing. Suddenly that dingy apartment in New York with its bare mattress on the floor was much more appealing. This was definitely going to be an adjustment.

Spike hope the snoring would subside, but it sounded instead as if an additional layer had been added to the cacophony. Spike took the pillow off his face and listened closer, just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Sounded like the low growl or rumble of some great beast, just beneath Kengo’s murmurs and exhalations. Spike even considered poking his head over the corner of the bed just to make sure some night demon hadn’t crawled into bed with his roommate. Demons don’t exist in Texas, do they? …Do they?

Eventually, Spike sat back and decided sleep would seek him out in its own time. Why did I think spellbreaking life would be more glamorous than this?

“It is time to wake, sleepy Spike.”

Soft light. Hard bed. And big, strong hands gently rocking Spike into the wakeful world. The Sailor Boy turned over and found himself face-to-face with a handsome sumo wrestler.

“This is a good dream…” Spike said lazily as he moved his mouth towards this big, sexy bear. Then, his better judgment smacked him in the face. “Oh! Kengo!”

“Time to get dressed,” the larger spellbreaker said as he pulled a blue jumper onto his massive frame. Spike couldn’t even begin to imagine the combo of diet, genetics, and working out he’d need to get to Kengo's level—he was like a slab of beef with the gentlest face you’d ever seen. And he had fashion sense to boot! The logo on Kengo’s jumper said ‘Power Play’ and appeared to depict a strange, yellow bear creature. It was very hip.

“We have to hurry to the training ring.” He smiled. “We are going to get beaten up today! I went to breakfast earlier…” he winced. “I hate getting up early.”

But at least one of us was responsible enough to eat first, Spike thought, as he tried ignoring his rumbling stomach. “Something in common besides tattoos, eh?” He stretched and tried forcing himself down his bunked ladder, careful to trip over in his muddled state.

“Unnngggg…I shouldn’t have skipped breakfast either.” Spike threw on the same jeans and t-shirt he had on yesterday, having completely neglected to pack his clothing the night before. A generous helping of deodorant would disguise any smells.

Kengo turned around to the desk and grabbed a slice of (mostly burnt bread) off a paper plate. Before Spike could argue, the big man already shoved it into Spike's mouth.

“Here is a piece of toast,” Kengo said, as if this was a completely normal interaction. “It was all I could bring back.”

Nevertheless, Spike forced himself to chew the dry, stale bread. “MMff. Shankyou.” Not even a banana though?

Kengo nodded to the door. “Now. Ikuyo!”

A row of bleachers faced the practice ring, reminding Spike of an American high school. Inside the ring, Rosa and Calypso—both dressed in t-shirts, workout bras, and gym shorts, took turns beating the absolute shit out of each other with expert gymnastic ability. It was like watching two warrior princesses go at it. All the while, Colt—wearing an oversized, faded sweatshirt with his old branding—called out moves and techniques from the side of the ring.

Spike found himself wedged between the two spellbreakers he’d seen the previous day—Sanjay and Blue Dragon. Like Spike, they wore loose-fitting, flexible attire. Nobody was expected to bring their ring gear to training, thank goodness. Kengo, ever studious, sat on the opposite end of the row, furiously taking notes. He looked so serious that Spike decided not to bother him.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Spike!”

He shook Sanjay’s hand first, sizing him up. He was wiry, with a boyish face contrasting a slight beard (which, Spike suspected, he’d grown in to try and make him look tougher). There was an air of aloofness about him, but he was friendly.

The masked fighter, by comparison, was more laid back. “We saw you yesterday with Rosa, no?” He pulled Spike in for a side-hug, and an overly complicated handshake that Spike was too tired to do correctly. “I…am Dragon Azul! But you can just call me Blue Dragon.”

Spike looked over his exotic mask—all its blue and white frills and spines. “Woah! Is that, like, your real name?”

He shrugged. “It is as real a name as anything.”

“I’m just Sanjay,” the spellbreaker to the right of Spike said. He crossed his arms. “No need for flashy names. You must be the guy from New York. Talk about a culture shock coming here, right? It was the same for me.”

Immediately, Spike was put at ease. Besides, these two hunks were more of his height and build. He didn’t feel like he was talking to giants.

“Oh? Where are you two from?”

“Venezuela,” Blue Dragon said. And Sanjay, “India.”

“Wow, so far!” Neither place Spike had ever ported in, so it was hard to picture these far-off places in his mind. He turned to Blue Dragon, finding him more of the extrovert. “So, you must be a masked fighter?”

“Yes. We call ourselves luchadors.”

“And do you like…always keep the mask on?”

The Dragon nodded empathetically. “The identity of a luchador is a powerful secret, and to unmask—or be unmasked—is a great disgrace.” Even though he had a gentle affect, there was an underlying heroism and dynamic energy in how he spoke.

“So…you keep it on for everything,” Spike confirmed. A devious thought came to him. He wiggled is eyebrows for effect. “Like…everything?” 

“I don’t take it off for nothing, bro.”

Ah, he’s oblivious…my favorite. Spike sighed, suddenly wondering what Blue Dragon looked like behind those pretty, dark eyes. “I always imagined that you guys must be so damn handsome that you have to hide your faces from the rest of the world.”

Blue Dragon laughed at the suggestion. “Nah, bro, I’m completely ugly. Hideous!”

“I’m sure he’s lying,” Sanjay laughed, with a smirk. “I come from a Kushti background—er traditional, Indian wrestling.”

Spike had an affinity for combat, and surprisingly he knew of Sanjay’s sport. “That’s the kind with the dirt, right? Men in tight red or white underwear rolling around the ground? It’s so sexy, but it looks like it would be too messy for me.”

“Ah, but It helps when you can actually control the dirt,” Sanjay said. He held up his hand, and Spike watched as the dust motes in the air came together, forming a solid ball of dirt. It rolled around the palm of Sanjya’s hand. “Ground magick,” he said.

It was like being a kid in a toy store. Spike’s eyed grew wide. “Woah! That’s so cool!”

Not to be outdone, however, Blue Dragon nudged Spike’s side and threw Sanjay a challenging look. “Nah, bro, check it out. Mine is cooler.”

Are men already fighting over me? Spike thought. Am I the trade of the incoming class? Maybe this isn’t such a bad start to the day after all.

Beads of water bloomed in the air, droplets forming into a liquid sphere perched at the end of Blue Dragon’s graceful fingertip. He held it up to Spike, winked, and popped it with his other finger. Spike thought his heart might melt away just the same.

"I have another glyph though," BD whispered. He held up his fingertip. "I can sting ya."

"Show-off," Sanjay muttered. "As if water magick wasn't enough, nature boy here has a venomous touch."

Spike hadn't met someone with two glyphs before. He was star struck. "Sting? Venom?"

The Dragon nodded, indulging in a captive audience. "After accumulating enough adrenaline, I can give you a stinging touch. May paralyze you. May make you sick. But it'll definitely score me the win, bro. I was stung by a blue dragon when I was little--my powers emerged after."

That made sense, Spike thought. He remembered reading about how certain glyphs awakened as a result of trauma, and that the types of abilities bestowed often correlated--a kind of defense mechanism that scientists were still trying to understand.

In any case, Spike was smitten. "A real dragon! Wow! I didn't even know those still existed!"

"Ugh," Sanjay groaned. "It's just a glorified name for a sea slug."

"A cool sea slug," Blue Dragon huffed. "He's just jealous." His fury subsiding, Blue Dragon leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper. "Ok bro, don't tell anyone but...it was actually a jellyfish. But Colt said it's cooler to make up a backstory. Character work. Like, what is the truth anyway?"

"What is the truth anyway," Spike repeated, trying to make it sound like it was the most profound wisdom he'd ever heard. "I am always saying that." He noticed how close Blue Dragon--and his beautiful eyes--were to his face. "So...Mr. Dragon, how does one cure themselves of this venom of yours? I bet it's...intoxicating."

Dragon winked. "Maybe if you're unlucky to face me in the ring, I can give you a first-hand demo. But tell me, chico, what is your power?" 

Back inside the ring, Rosa dove off the top ropes and flipped Calypso in the air with the power of her own thighs. Kengo let out a soft, “Oooh.”

Sanjay admonished him. “BD, that’s a very invasive question!”

BD? Spike knew what his initials stood for, of course, but wondered if they might contain multiple meanings. “Nah, it’s okay, Sanjay.” Spike rolled up his sleeves and flexed his bicep, vein popping out and all. “Mine's super strength! Well, after you hit me a few times that is.”

BD made an impressed faced at Spike’s might, even going so far as to give his bicep peak a gentle squeeze. “Woah, look at that! Dude's yoked! So, you get hit and you convert it into energy? I knew a guy like that back home. Can...can I try it out?” He laughed. "Maybe you can be my new practice dummy!"

Spike had him in his sights—time to go in for the kill. He flashed the Dragon his baby blue eyes, and—for good measure—slid a lock of his blonde hair behind his ear, ever-so-coquettishly. “Big Blue, you can hit me whenever you want.”

Before Spike could follow up on this flirt barrage, the doors swung open, drawing everyone's attention. And in walked trouble. 

Cian Enbarr, dressed in gym shorts and an Irish punk band t-shirt, slung his backpack down at the opposite end of the bleachers. He coolly shut off the music from his tape deck, yanked off his headphones, and tossed them onto his bag with the attitude of someone who was trying to look like they hadn't a care in the world--and was pulling it off with artistic aplomb. 

Colt turned his attention away from his high-flying pupils and acknowledge Cian with a firm nod. Seemed like he’d just been dismissed from another class and wasn’t late, as Spike had suspected / wanted.

To think, Spike had hoped to see Colt give him a tongue lashing. The red-headed spellbreaker sat down on the opposite of the bench—far from anybody else—and began to tie up his wrestling shoes. He did, however, make sure to give Spike a dark look.

Spike returned it, putting up two fingers to his eyes in an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture. It only made Cian scoff and turn his head away instead.

As if reading Spike’s mind, Sanjay groaned, “Ugh. There’s Cian again. Too cool for us plebeians.”

“Plebeians?” Spike blinked. “I thought you said you were from India?”

Thankfully, BD swept in before Spike’s smooth brain betrayed him in earnest. “You and your ten-cent words again, Sanjay." He put his arm around Spike, in a brotherly gesture that--nevertheless--made Spike sigh with longing. "Trying to impress the new guy, huh?”

Spike blushed, scratching his head. “Oh…don’t expect to impress me with a big vocabulary. In one ear out the other! But yeah, that Cian Enbarr…” He lowered his voice, slipping BD's arm off his shoulder. Truthfully though, he didn’t care if Cian knew he was talking about him. “Real piece of work ain’t he? I can’t wait to knock some sense into him!” 

And then sit on his face, Spike thought to add, but he left that part out.

“I dunno,” Sanjay started, “BD and I saw him break one of the other trainee’s collar bones with just his thighs. I wouldn’t want to get caught between those.”

Spike leered over at this target of revulsion, just as Cian happened to spread his legs apart for a sitting stretch. Indeed, his quads were very…intimidating. They very well could crush a man’s head like an egg. Not the worse way to die though, Spike had to admit.

Spike was content to leave Cian stranded at the end of the bleachers, but he felt bad seeing Kengo sitting by himself—even though the big bear appeared to be lost in his own world. Spike hadn’t ever really studied in his life. He wondered if he should be taking from Kengo’s good example.

Nah. Who needs brains when you got muscles like these. And a sweet ass…

“You rooming with the big guy?” Blue Dragon asked suddenly.

“Kengo? Yeah, I got lucky with him. He’s so nice!” Spike then remembered to the sleepless night before, again lowering his voice to a whisper. “But…he snores like a goddess-damned trucker! And it’s so weird, it almost sounds like he actually is a bear…”

“He’s very powerful,” Sanjay added. “Colt had his eye on him for a while before he came over.”

A sudden grunt from the ring drew their attention towards the action. Calypso, a dark-skinned and beautiful young woman with curly hair (and toned arms to boot), threw Rosa clear through the air, following it up with a torrent of water that carried her opponent into the turnbuckle. Even Colt winced at that one.

“I got my eye on her, bro,” Blue Dragon said, suddenly turning from cool customer into starry eyed puppy dog.

Spike looked between him and the water goddess standing in the middle of the ring, ready for the kill. “Oh, Calypso?”

“She is a siren of the tides,” BD opined, bringing his hands to his chest. “And were I a mariner, I would gladly dash my ship against the rocks and drawn in her watery embrace!”

Sanjay rolled his eyes at that one. “Luchadors. So dramatic.”

And straight, Spike lamented. How quickly this new crush had been, well, crushed! But, hope sprang eternal for young—horny—Spike Waterford. Or maybe he’s like Buck, Spike considered, remembering his other new crush. Those bi boys are always such studs, too...

Calypso extended her hand to dazed Rosa, wet and dizzy by the corner post. Her partner graciously took it. “Nice work.”

Colt seemed satisfied, in any case. “Great job as usual, ladies.” He looked over at the bleachers, specifically in Spike’s direction. “Alright, boys. If y’all chatterboxes are done having your little chin wag, today’s lesson is breathing and footwork.”

Rosa pulled herself out of the ring, looking down with disgust at her wet clothes. “Ugh, I need to change clothes.

Calypso followed her. “Nah. Got you covered, chica.” She made a quick motion with her hands, pulling the moisture out of Rosa’s workout shirt and shorts, the dark stain fading. With another flick of the rest, Calypso scattered the loose water molecules to the open air.

Rosa looked down at her dry clothing, impressed, as was everyone else. “Damn! Next time, I’m doing laundry day with you. Thanks!”

"Look at that cooperation," Colt said, spreading his arms to the men. "Y'all should try it some time."

On the bleachers, Blue Dragon held his breath. “That’s…so hot.” Spike, reluctantly, had to agree. Though he was still a bit jealous that his fellow spellbreakers all had flashy, environmental magick, when his was more-or-less internal.

Colt paced the front row, giving his students a hard looking over. He meant business. “Now, most of you gorgeous grunts think you can just get into this ring and start swinging fists and slinging spells like a jack-rabbit in July." 

Spike knew nothing about the fauna of Texas, nor their propensity for magick, but he hung on every word. Colt really hadn't aged a day.

"But balance and footwork are key, as is keeping tight control on your stamina. So, we’ll do some more sparing and see if you can apply today's lessons to your techniques.”

Spike nodded. Of course, Colt could tell him to jump into a vat of hot oil and Spike wouldn’t dare protest. He looked forward to seeing Blue Dragon square off against Cian, give him some stiff work.

“Okay, Kengo and Spike. You two are up.”

Spike blinked. “Me?” He sighed. He was too tired to put up a friendly fight. Then, it hit him. “I…have to fight my roommate?” He looked over at the end of the bleachers. Kengo wore the same bewildered expression.

“Best way to make friends,” Colt shrugged, handing Spike a small paper cup filled with diluted soma. “Or enemies.” He scratched his beard. “And hell, lovers too. Don’t look at me like that son, I told ya I wasn’t gonna go easy on you.” He laughed at Spike’s pouty face. “Now, get your Yankee-doodle ass up here and wrassle a bear.”

My Yankee doodle ass is too sweet to be bullied this side of 9 AM, Spike thought angrily. He huffed and slid beneath the ropes, just as he’d been shown. Reluctantly, he downed the cup, not ready to wuss out in front of his buddies—and Cian.

“You about to spellbreak or put on a striptease with an entrance like that?” Colt teased him. “Leave the shirt on, kid. We’re not being serious now. This is just light sparring.”

Spike had already, of course, begun peeling his shirt off. Damn it. I was hoping to use Kengo’s fear of nudity against him.

Kengo bowed to Colt—who, of course returned the gesture—and pulled back the ropes, allowing his bulky frame passage into the ring. “It is okay, Spike. The feelings are not hard!”

But I may be, Spike thought, taking in Kengo’s size again. The thought of being utterly squashed had yet to remove the thought of being caught up within all that bear beef…

Kengo gave Spike another small bow, and, not wanting to be rude, Spike did the same. He’s so respectful and polite. I bet all the moms must love him…

With that out of the way, Kengo stripped out of his shirt, revealing his massive chest and belly. He then dropped his pants. Even Cian raised an eyebrow at his massive legs.

Spike’s eyes went southward to the skimpiest, blue little piece of fabric he’d ever seen on such a big build. He even thought he heard Blue Dragon and Sanjay gasp. He definitely heard Rosa and Calypso wolf whistle.

Colt sighed. “Okay…I definitely said you didn’t need to strip down, but then again, I should have known these are my boys. Buncha’ damn himbos…”

Spike had to do everything within his power to keep his eyes from popping out of his skull. “Woah…K-Kuma, I thought you said you were a never-nude!”

The giant sumo grinned, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, outside the ring only.” The, his kind façade melted away, giving way to a more serious, even scarier Kengo. “Inside the ring, my fundoshi makes me strong. Bear strength!” He then growled and flexed his biceps. Spike responded by crossing his legs.

From ringside, Calypso cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted, in her delightful Barbadian accent, “Kengo, I claim you as my husband!”

“What!?” Blue Dragon squeaked, a few rows down. He immediately stood up, a blue aura radiating off his copper-colored body. “GRRR!! KICK HIS ASS ALL THE WAY BACK TO WAKAYAMA PREFECTURE, SPIKE!

“My ears…BD,” Sanjay winced beside him. “My ears.”

Kengo folded his arms, giving Spike a mean stare-down. “I will be nice to you outside the ring, but inside…” He raised his giant leg in a sumo stance and brought it crashing down, making the canvas move underneath Spike’s feet. “I am the big bear. And you are my prey.” He punctuated this by slapping his own butt.

“G-GODDESS!” Spike blurted out, in a mixture of fear and arousal—the best kind of arousal. Then he remembered what was on the line here--his pride. He had a cute audience to play to, and he wasn’t about to let his own roommate show him up at his favorite sport.

“Hm. Well, if that’s how you want to play it, big guy. I may not be a hunter, but a sailor boy can tame a bear just as well!” With that, Spike pulled off his shirt and pants, leaving him clad in cotton, white briefs. He struck a heroic pose and bounced his pale, creamy pecs for the crowd.

Rosa placed her hand over her mouth and looked to Calypso. “Spike’s…er…”

“Looks like he’s smuggling one of Lucinda’s churros,” she said in response, giggling.

“Yeah. A thick one.”

At the end of the bleachers, Cian folded his arms and looked away. “Whatever…”

Poor Colt had completely lost control over the situation. “Er…love the trash talk, gents, but I think I said you didn’t need to take off your—you know what, never mind. You do you. Fight at 40% and no spellwork til the second bell, got it?” He pointed to the ringside bell and shot out an invisible jet of electricity, setting it off.

DING!

Spike remembered his match with Ryan Hartley. Compared to Kengo, the man was a  pipsqueak, but the same rules applied. Big guys were deadly grapplers, but Spike had speed and mobility on his size. 

Kengo wasn’t shy about charging towards him, arms outstretched, ready to sweep in for the crush. Spike pivoted out of the way and tried to make a grab for Kengo’s waist. Instead, he ended up grabbing a fist full of his fundoshi, nearly tearing it off him in the process.

The big bear turned red. “NOOO!!!”

“I knew it!” Spike said, triumphantly, as he pulled himself up. “Now I know your weak—”

But he didn’t get a chance to finish the thought before a shoulder, backed by the force of 270 pounds, collided with his sternum, sending him into the ropes.

Though his innate magick dulled the pain, the force along knocked the wind right out of him. Fortunately, Mr. Iron’s coaching had trained him not to stop when an opponent was digging in. Spike used the leverage from the ropes to deliver a stiff elbow to Kengo’s chest.

The sumo’s chest did wobble, but Kengo just looked down and said, “Oh.”

Spike pulled back at once, just as Kengo went in for a grapple. He knew if he was caught, there were at least eight different ways Kengo could crush him right then and there and secure a pinfall. The Sailor boy (in tighty-whities) ran his hand across his mouth.

I’m not gonna be able to make a dent in this bear until my magick activates. Damn it, Colt. You were my hero—now you’re throwing me to the wolves—I mean, bears!

“Come on Kengo,” Colt shouted from ringside. “You look bored! You should look mean! Play it up! Turn up the energy!”

“Ehh?” Kengo turned a dark shade of red. “Mr. Colt, I am trying to look stoic!”

“I taught him that word,” Sanjay whispered to Blue Dragon.

That distraction was enough for an opening. Spike didn’t waste his chances, turning on his heels and springing up the top rope like a monkey. After a deep breath and a prayer, he leapt from the top to try and drop his elbow right onto Kengo’s head. Sorry, roomie, I’ll make it up to you later!

The blow landed, and Kengo fell back, stunned—but the damage to Spike was much worse.

“Yowww!” He winced, rubbing his sore elbow. Hopefully, there was no fracture. He sucked his teeth and shot daggers at Colt. His teacher appraised him, arms crossed. Real ‘dad at a sports game’ vibes.

“How the hell am I supposed to take down this fuckin’ guy,” Spike spat, his Brooklyn accent in full effect. “Colt, this is a mismatch!”

“Please do not swear,” Kengo growled, going for a takedown. “It...is...RUDE!”

Spike’s reflexes kicked in and he jumped clean over the bears head, earning an “Oooh!” from the crowd. Spike and Kengo’s eyes met from other ends of the ring. They smiled, content with this moment of mutual showmanship.

Colt shook his head, mostly at Spike’s wise-assing. "You’re gonna’ go up against opponents much bigger than you all the time, ponyboy. You got weapons at your disposal. Now use ‘em. Okay, glyphs are a go.” With that, Colt waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the bell, making it ring—and inadvertently causing a plugged in vacuum cleaner off to the side to start sparking. “Whoops. Hey Rosa, can you grab that fire extin--”

“Already on it!”

While Rosa attended to the smoking appliance, Spike took a grappler’s stance, giving Kengo the meanest look he could muster. Kengo did the same (and better). There was two ways this next strategy could go down. One, it worked. Or two, Colt would have to peel him off the mat with a spatula. Spike bolted forward, as did Kengo, two forces of nature meeting in the center of the ring.

“Grrr!” Kengo growled.

Spike went for a grab, but Kengo got to him first, hooking him under the arm, which je used to lift him up into the air with ease. The crowd gasped.

“I am sorry.” Kengo said, his eyes narrowing, as he pivoted around and slammed Spike straight into the canvas.

“Uranage,” Sanjay whispered to Rosa, sitting on her right.

She glared. “Yes, I know the basics of judo.”

“Sorry!”

Blue Dragon reared back as he realized what Kengo was about to unleash on poor Spike, stunned and paralyzed on the canvas. “Oh no, looks like he’s not done yet!”

Kengo surveyed his opponent’s position, grunted, and then used the ropes as a spring board for a full body splash. He jumped into the air and brought all of his weight—sumo belly included—on top of his poor roommate.

But the sound of bear colliding with body and canvas never came.

Kengo looked up, confused. “Ehh?” Then, he looked down. He was still mid-air. No, not quite. He was being held up in the air. Beneath him, Spike struggled—on wobbly legs—to hoist Kengo up onto his shoulders. A nearly imperceptible, deep blue aura radiated off of him—his glyph activated.

“I need to start doing more squats…” Spike squeaked, holding the big man aloft.

“Sunnava…” Colt started, duly impressed.  

Cian, leering at his rival, folded his arms and turned away in derision. “Hmph.”

“Sorry, big guy,” Spike huffed, trying to give himself better leverage. His power was slipping fast, all of the force and exertion going into trying to keep Kengo aloft. “But this win is mine!” He went for the throw, aiming for the nearest corner post.

He missed it by a few inches. Kengo landed and abruptly rolled back to absorb the shock (also giving his opponent a great view of his rather unmissable posterior). Sitting upright, Kengo shook off the dizziness and stood, brushing his shoulders and baring his teeth at the prettyboy who’d just thrown him unceremoniously.

“I do not think it is your win,” Kengo growled.

Somehow, Spike sensed he was in trouble. He readied himself. “Come on, bear. What ya got next for the sailor stud? I can take...it.” He could barely finish the sentence before he needed to catch his breath. He’d spent more energy than he thought.

Kengo smirked. “That is what I was waiting for. Now you are tired because you have wasted your energy!”

“I…am…not…tired.” Spike wheezed.

“Oh, looks like he’s tired,” Sanjay muttered to Rosa.

“Yes, Sanjay, I have eyes and ears!”

“Just trying to make conversation!”

“I promised you that I would show you what my power is,” Kengo intoned at Spike. He rose up on his feet—somehow making himself larger than he already appeared. It was, however, when the cool, blue flames began sprouting from his back that Spike already sensed how this match would end.

“I walk the path of spirits,” Kengo chanted. He lifted his foot into the air and brought it down, sumo style, sending a ring of blue embers in a wave around his feet. “The ancient art. My spirit is bound to flesh.” Another stomp—and even the washed out halogen lights overhead flickered with a strange energy and a blue glow.

“Minoru, Great King of Bears, come forth!”

For a second, Spike thought he was hallucinating. He rubbed his eyes and watched as the flesh on Kengo’s back, the site of his beautiful tattoo, began to bulge outward in an almost sickening fashion. Light burst forth, and then a massive, glowing shape crawled from out of Kengo’s back.

A massive sun-bear, upright on its haunches, hovered in the air behind Kengo. Its eyes glowed like miniature suns, and it bore its fangs at Spike. Meanwhile, Kengo folded his arms and sneered at his opponent, knowing the intimidation tactic had landed.

“RAWWWR!”

The deafening roar nearly burst Spike’s eardrums. He looked towards Colt and the crowd. They were just as shocked as him!

Then, as if the situation couldn’t get any stranger, the bear spoke in perfect English. Well, ‘spoke’ in the sense that Spike could hear it inside his head. It was gruff. Guttural. And a bit snide.

“Haahaha! So, you’re Kenny’s little roommate, are ya? Heh. Aren’t you just the tastiest treat.”

Spike had no counter for this. He stood his ground and waited for an opening, should it present itself.

At once, Kengo was suddenly behind him. The bear spirit, or whatever it was, closed in on Spike. Wrapped in blue fire, its presence cooled the air around the young fighter, making Spike's skin prickle with goose bumps. Spike had been trapped. Sandwiched!

“Well, if we’re gonna be such good friends,” the bear said, grinning with all of its sharp, wicked fangs, “why don’t I give you a hug!”

“Hell no!” Spike spat. But it was already too late. He felt a huge pair of meaty arms wrap around his midsection, hoisting him cleanly up and off the canvas. “Huh?”

“My submission finisher, Spike!” Kengo growled, tightening his vice-grip. “The Bear King’s Bloody Embrace!”

The summoned spirit mirrored his tag partner, doing the same technique from the front. “GRRRROWL!”

“Uggghh!!!” Spike groaned—but that’s all he could utter, as the air inside his lungs was driven out by the double constriction, from both bear and…well…bear. It was like he was being compressed and pulled apart in two separate directions!

Kengo dug his face into the crook of Spike’s neck and shoulder. “You should tap, Spike,” he said calmly. Not so much as a grunt or sign of exertion from him! “I do not want to crush my very nice roommates rib cage!”

Spike tried to make a sound, but he already found himself starved for breath, the pressure growing, his body prepared to buckle and break.

“But I will if I have to…”

From ringside, Colt spoke. “You gotta know when to tap, Spike. It’s okay. Good fight.”

Never, Spike thought. I’ll sooner let him knock me out than lose! And the prospect of that happening was becoming more and more inventible with each passing second.

Perhaps it was for Kengo’s innate kindness, or the nasty look Spike was able to turn and give him, because he loosened his hold just a little.

“Come on, Spike, I don’t want to hurt you. Just tap, roomie.”

Spike’s answer was a stern and sharp. “F-F-fuck you!”

Kengo’s eyes widened. He looked down, hurt.

But not as hurt as Spike was. The bear spirit growled, angered at this rude attack on his partner. “I’M GONNA SNAP YOU IN TWO, YOU FOUL MOUTHED LITTLE SHIT.”

That was enough for Spike, who felt as if he was about to become a tube of toothpaste—at the end of its lifecycle. His legs flailed, kicked out in front of him, as he struggled. He'd reached his limit. 

“I give! I give!”

Colt nodded and rang the bell with his magick. This time, it caused one of the lights in the room to burst.

“Why is it so hard to hit it yourself?” Rosa snapped at him, pointing an accusatory finger. “Stick to analog!”

But Colt wasn’t paying attention, too excited as he was over what had been a hell of a fight. “Winner, Kengo!”

Kengo dropped Spike to the mat, just as Minoru—laughing hollowly—dispersed into thousands of particles of light, like scattering fireflies. Spike, his face pressed to the cool canvas, decided it was best to stay there. 

No, better to never stand up again actually. He pictured Cian’s smug, satisfied face on the bleachers...

“Nice one,” Colt said, sliding beneath the ropes with expert grace. He got on his hands and knees to check on Spike, but it was obvious that—aside from a nasty red mark around his abdomen and chest—that he was no worse for wear. “What did you learn about conserving your stamina, Spike?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Spike mumbled into the canvas.

“That’s ok. Losing’s part of the game. We all experience it.” Colt looked up at the champion, ready to hold up his arm for the win. He stopped. “Kengo? Hey, buddy?

The large, young man was already moving towards the opposite end of the ring. He wiped his eyes. “S-sorry, Colt.” He bowed. But to Spike, he only gave a somewhat angry, mostly pitiful look. “I thought you were nice, Spike! You…you swore at me!”

Spike, massaging his abdomen, whipped his head around. “What?” He looked at the audience. Blank stares. He looked at Colt, frowning. And he looked at Kengo, who acted as if he was the one who had just lost this match.

Oh no. I really put my foot in it this time!

“I…” Spike started, unable to find the beginning of a fitting apology. “Oh Goddess, Kengo, I’m sorry I was just a bit frustrated cuz I was losin’ is all!”

Kengo pulled his jumper back over his body, still mostly naked from the waist down, and ducked out of the ring. “I am going to get lunch,” he sighed, before turning again to give Spike a very dark look. “By myself!”

Spike’s jaw dropped. From the bleachers, Sanjay cupped his hands together in front of his mouth and went, “BOOOOoooo!!!”

A boo! AT ME? “Oh no…” Spike said, as the horror began dawning on him. “Am…am I a…heel?” He choked at the name. 

Cian crossed his arms over his chest, looking like a disappointed school teacher. “Way to go, charmer.”

Spike had seen that look before, in fact. From the Sisters of St. Magnus House. “H-hey, why’s everyone lookin' at me like that! I’m not a heel, I swear!”

Kengo moped towards the exit. Rosa tapped him on the shoulder, handing him his sweatpants. “Don’t forget these, bud.”

“Oh,” Kengo sniffed, putting them on. He bowed respectfully to her. “Thank you.” Then, he opened the doors and passed through, without so much a look in Spike’s direction.

Now, Spike had broken a few hearts in his time, but rarely had he hurt a friend. He’d forgotten the first rule of spellbreaking—don’t underestimate your opponent. This time, he'd failed to realized that that big guys could be strong...as well as sensitive.

The ungraceful loser felt a firm hand on his shoulder. Colt, ever the reassuring father, nodded to his trainee. “Looks like you learned another lesson, today young Spike. Losing gracefully. I think you owe that sweet sumo an apology.”

Lip quivering, and feeling like both a loser and a villain, Spike nodded in tacit agreement.

Next Chapter!