Bonus: Big in Japan

"Woah, look at that neat thing!"

"Robbie..."

The flashing signs of Shibuya hypnotized Robbie, lost in the enchanting blur of Tokyo's commercial district, its cross roads, and TV towers. Well-mannered businessmen ignored the rambunctious foreigner with the oversized muscles as he stopped to inspect any manner of ephemera that caught his attention. Including, as it were, the statue of Hachiko, a bronze Akita situated outside the station.   

"Hey, Coach, check this out! He's so cuuute!" 

Mr. Iron, who drew attention more than anybody else, had to bound over to keep up with his wayward ward. "Kid, you can call me John Henry," he panted. "Or Mr. Iron."

"Aw, but you're tottally coach to me, big dude!" 

Two high-school aged boys in uniform suddenly approached the two men. In perfect, polite English they asked, "Hey! Do you mind if we take your picture?" 

Robbie felt like a celebrity. "Aw, sure, dudes!" He put his arms around the guys, who seemed a bit afraid they might get squashed, with John Henry standing tall in the background.

"Oh, wait," one of the boys said, tipping the camera up. "Um...you mind if I use my glyph?"

Robbie found it odd to ask for permission, but nodded.

The boy smiled and willed his camera into the air, his own self-made tripod. 

"Now say poutine!" Robbie said, with a big grin.

Click.

The boy willed the camera back into his hands. "Thanks!"

"Hey, you're a metal user too," John Henry said to the lad. "Same as me!"

"Wow!" The kid looked star-struck. "Laurion is a pretty rare glyph here in Tokyo, surprisingly enough. I don't run into many other users here, and not too many foreigners. Thanks so much for the photo!" The boy and his friend bowed and then hurried off (presumably to school).

"Woah," Robbie gushed. "Tokyo is awesome. And the people are so nice. It's like...even putting Canada to shame."

"See what I meant about being kind of like ambassadors! Spellbreaking isn't just about fun. It brings the world together. I don't even know if those kids knew we were athletes. I think we just stand out."

Robbie laughed, take in by Tokyo's charms--he also felt, well, pretty at peace since the whole Paris incident. "Awww, I think these guys just know cool when they see it." He flexed his biceps, to make a point. Hey, but we should head to the temple to meet up with Colt and the others. And Yuki! Man, it's amazing running into an ice-magi here on the other side of the world. Like, back home we're a loon-a-dozen, but it's hard to find many outside the cold zones. Ugh, I miss Canada. I wonder if I should pick up a souvenir for my mom. She always sends stuff to the GSA, you know. I can even ask her to make you a dreamcatcher or send some her beadwork if you want. Huh, all this walking is making me hungry, bro..."

John Henry could barely keep up with Robbie's train of thought. "Heh. You are a very excitable fella."

"Er." Rather uncharacteristically of him, Robbie's cheeks tinged red. "Okay, you like...can't tell the others this, big bro, but...I have ADHD."

John Henry had been in the business this long to tell that Robbie was not exactly comfortable with disclosure. Which meant someone had made him feel awful about it at one point or another. And in this line of work, where any sign of vulnerability could make you a target, John Henry understood perfectly. 

"Thank you for sharing that with me, Robbie," John Henry said, with a kind smile. "You'll find most of us have more than one or two loose bolts in our engines. Why do you think we got into spellbreaking? Because we're well-adjusted?"

Robbie's brief dip into the duldrums turned right around, and he was all smiles and snow showers again. He punched John Henry in the arm, playfully. "Hahaha. See, this is why you're the best." Wincing, he nursed his sore knuckle. "Damn, bro, you really are made out of metal.

"I been hitting the gym more. And hey, I'm just glad to see Deadboy's influence isn't so strong on you now. You er...sorta' flew off the hockey stick back there in Paris."

The seasoned vet and the contender dipped down a more quiet side street (still bustling with activity by most definitions), passing izakayas, news stands, and snack stalls.  

Robbie pretended not to be bothered by how things had ended (really, before they had begun) with Cian Enbarr. "Aw, I don't even care about what's-his-name anymore."

"You mean, Cian!?"

"Where!?" Robbie said, his heart a flutter. He cringed. "Okay, maybe I still care a little..."

"You know, I think you do have a big heart. But a lot of guys think you're sort of a bully."

"What?" Robbie looked genuinely surprised (and offended). He rolled his eyes. "Ugh, nerds. Look, I'm just a tough guy. I'm not exactly a heel. But I don't like being nice to people unless they deserve it."

"You're sensitive, kid. Soft heart. Hard shell."

"GRRR! I'll show you sensitive," Robbie said, his first instinct to square up with John Henry.

The giant man looked down at him.

Robbie bit his lip. "Er...eventually. Once I get bigger! You'll be swoorry you challenged the Ice-Cold Killa', Robbie The Icewolf!"

Mr. Iron laughed, though without an ounce of venom. "I stand by my point. Kid, I think you're pretty decent, when you aren't riled up about something. Let me ask you something...what is it that gets to you?"

Robbie wasn't sure he understood the question. At first, anyway. Dark, wet eyes narrowing in deep contemplation, Robbie thought about how far he'd come as a spellbreaker...and how far behind he felt, still.

"It's like a mountain."

"Huh?"

"Fighting. Getting stronger. Working on being a better person." He sighed. "It's like...I put some effort into it, and then I look up and realize I'm still at the bottom of this giaaaant mountain, bro. You get it? Or am I being dumb?"

"You're being incredibly smart, kid. Maybe you're just hard on others because you're hard on yourself. And maybe...you're so obsessed with Cian because he represents something you want." The giant man scratched his bald head. "Er...hell if I know what that is though."

Robbie shrugged, following the colorful signs overhead to a small plaza adjacent to an even smaller park and playground. He always appreciated green spaces like this, tucked away--secret hiding spots. "...I guess...I dunno. I have this thing where I find something to obsess about, and then I like, REALLY get into it, ya know? It's the hockey player in me. Always gotta' have a goal! First it was hockey, and I did that. Then it was spellbreaking. Then it was Cian...which was a loss. But right now I feel like I'm just not getting far in my spellbreaking career, ya know? I keep getting my ass kicked." He pouted. "By Spike. Ugh. Hey, what's that...?"

Up ahead, a man in a blue uniform stood at a metal push cart, staring at a glass box. The box was affixed to a small platform, with a crank handle. Next to it, arranged in a neat row, were a collection of colorful flavoring syrups.

The middle aged purveyor frowned. "Darn, this thing isn't working." He looked up at the giant foreigners approaching him, and flinched. "Huh? I...uh...don't want any trouble!"

Robbie's eyes adjusted to Gloria's ambient translation magick, reforming the kanji and hiragana on the side of the cart into French. Then English. Then a mixture of the phonetic dialect Robbie's family spoke. He blinked, forcing his brain to fix on a translation. He hadn't bothered mentioning that his attention span could affect perception of enchantments as well.

Regardless, he attempted the gist of it. "Shaved...ice?" He said.

The merchant was taken aback. "Oh, you two speak Japanese. I am very sorry, but the machine is broken. The freezing mechanism won't work for me."

Robbie looked at the glass box. He assumed it must fill up with ice.

Then, rarity of rarities, he got an idea. "Dude, I am a freezing mechanism." He already picked up on the merchant's confusion, so he conjured up a small sphere of flurries, dancing around his fingers. "See?"

The shaved ice vendor smiled. "Oh, you're a Cryos magi? We don't see many down here. Usually in Hokkaido..."

Robbie looked to his coach, who nodded in approval. "Mind if I give it a try?"

The vendor scratched his head. After a moment's hesitation, he shrugged.

"Sure...but..."

Robbie was already on the case, closely investigating the machine and trying to put the pieces together. "Er..."

"Here," John Henry offered. He pointed to tubes going into the ice machine. "Looks like nitrogen. If you were to channel your energy here, you'd basically be doing the same thing as the machine down here."

"Thanks!" Robbie said, cheerfully, placing his hands on the tube. He thought cold thoughts. "Okay, let's see here..."

The machine whirred to life. A flurry of fine bits of ice sprayed out of the generator at the bottom of the glass case, soon filling it up with chips needed for the ice.

"Oh!" the proprietor said, impressed. "It's working."

"That's not all," Robbie said, grinning. He flicked hid hands, drawing the shaved ice from the glass box, swirling it around in the air.

John Henry gave him a warning look. "Don't get too cocky now, Wolfie."

Robbie went to glare at him, but restrained himself at the last second. Big guy had a point. "Er...right. Hold on a second..."

He shaped the ice into a crude, but undeniable cute and easily recognizable shape. He then (without asking for permissions) squirted some of the blue, sweet syrup on top of it, giving it color.

A few school children watching the odd foreigners gathered around the shaved ice machine took notice. "Look at that! He's so cool."

"Huh?" Robbi turned around to see the two small children, a boy and a girl, staring up wantingly at this ice creation. "It's a w--"

"It's Hachiko!" the little girl said!"

Icewolf bit his lip. "Y-yeah! It's Hachiko!" He handed it to her.

"Aww I want one too!" the boy said.

Beaming, Robbie turned to the vendor, who both amused and a bit irritated that he was being shown up a foreigner, nodded. Icewolf conjured up another ice shape (a miniature snowman) and handed it to the boy.

"Aw, I want strawberry!" The boy pointed to the top of the snowman. "For his hat."

Robbie laughed. "Haha. Fine, little dude." 

Soon, a throng of kids had gathered around the cart, slamming down small change and begging Robbie to make more creations. 

"Wow, this is awesome!"

After the crowd has cleared (and Robbie's magick thoroughly spent) Robbie leaned against the side of the cart and sighed.

The proprietor was certainly not disappointed. "Hey, you're good for business, kid!" He closed his register til and gave Robbie a closer look. "Say, you're one of those guys who fights in their underwear. No wonder you got a knack for it."

"Aw, thanks. I love making things." Robbie smiled. "I used to get made fun of it allll the time by the bigger guys. That's why I started weight lifting and working out." Smile turning to sneer, he pounded his fist against the inside of his hand. "So I could shove them into lockers when they made fun of my ice dancing."

Mr. Iron had been watching, with great pride and joy, the whole time. He laughed, heartily. "Kid, you're a diamond in the rough."

Robbie cocked his head. "Nah, I'm Anishinaabe."

"No I mean you have a lot of potential." Mr. Iron gave the grateful vendor a polite bow and motioned the scrappy fighter along before he could somehow make a mess of his victory. "Say, you want to take some lessons with me? To be honest, I miss one-on-one training, and since I'm gonna take a step back from the whole Chalice th--"

"YEAAAAH!" Robbie shouted, startling a group of elderly women taking a stroll nearby. "What!? That's AWSOME. Iron and Ice! WOO! WOO! WOO!" He punched the fist, ignoring the looks from passersby.

Mr. Iron motioned for him to settle, but it was a pointless endeavor. "I...appreciate the excitement."

"I'll be like the BEST student ever!" Robbie said, swirls of diamond dust floating around him in excitement. "Put me in coach, you can count on me!"

Now, Mr. Iron wasn't sure if he'd made a mistake or not.  "Well, how about this for a first test," he started. "Wanna redeem yourself, kid? Help us locate the wellspring for the Chalice of Knowledge that Tiger and Deadboy picked up in Hong Kong."

"YEAAAH! So, like, where is this puddle anyway?"

"Ah, that's the thing." Mr. Iron craned his head towards the shrine up ahead, the gathering place where Yuki, Kengo, Rai, Joseph, and Colt were waiting. "It's in the Sea of Trees..."

The End

Chapter 8: Old and New

The gorgeous, stain glass ceilings and windows around the arena were unlike anything Robbie 'The Icewolf', had never seen in a spellbreaking venue. The stain glass had been enchanted to shift colors at the whims of the light mages on staff, just another poignant touch in a culture that took spellbreaking seriously, but understood its colorful roots.

Still, he wished he was fighting in the ring tonight instead of acting as cheerleader for his team. As Colt had effectively disqualified Deadboy and Icewolf from the World Championships, the frosty jock didn't really have much to look forward to in spellbreaking these days. He figured he might as well enjoy the benefits of travel with his other 'bros'.

"Awwww yeah!" Robbie shouted, startling Gio (and the polite fans sitting around them). "Come on, White Tiger--kick his ass, big bro!"

Even though he wasn't a hometown boy, White Tiger had come out to considerable fanfare, wearing a flashy, silver, tiger striped robe and epaulets modelled off the head of the Merlion fountain (from Joseph's hometown of Singapore). White Tiger, gentlemanly and humble (until you got a spotlight on him, that is) struck a heroic pose a fountain of silver pyrotechnics. Face bathed in sparks, he reared his head up and roared, "ARE YOU READY TO SEE A TIGER KILL!! RAAAAAAAOOOOR!"

The audience, including Robbie, lost their shit. 

Tiger's opponent was the slinky, svelt, and mysterious SIlver Samurai, a masked metal-user who was both an enigma and a skilled fighter. Both Tiger and Samurai were excellent high flyers, weaponizing acrobatics and ropework to kick the absolute stuffing out of each other in spectacular fashion. They were equally matched, and the tension in the air was so thick that it felt like the whole stadium might burst from the stress. It didn't help that the enthusiastic, Japanese audience was usually stone quiet (a sign of respect and admiration), reacting only to the timely execution of moves. 

Finally, after much battling, the tired, bloody, and bruised fighters found themselves entangled on the turnbuckle, with Tiger leaning over the Silver Samurai. Verging on passing out, Tiger summoned the last of strength and depleted Samurai's reserves with a tight, front facing choke, sapping his energy just long enough to execute a stunning 'Retribution of the Four Guardian' suplex of the top rope.

"One...two...three!"

"YAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

After barely managing to get to his feet, Joseph held up his hands in victory, summoning enough energy to let out a mighty roar. He bowed to all four corners of the room, and then helped the Samurai get to his feet.

Mic in hand, Joseph addressed the room, in both perfect Japanese and then English. "Thank you, kind people of Japan. I will NOT be taking your gear, Silver Samurai." White Tiger bowed deeply to his opponent. "A warrior such as yourself only deserves the utmost respect. And...I look forward to the rematch."

Joseph placed his hand on the silent samurai's shoulder. The warrior returned his opponent's bow, with one of his own, and then a handshake. 

"Only a babyface such as the Tiger could earn applause on someone else's home terf," Gio pointed out to his coworker. 

Icewolf was impressed, and a bit annoyed. "I don't think I could ever do that, bro. They'd boo the shit out of me here." He sulked.

"Hmmm. Perhaps you need to learn to be more respectful to your opponents."

Icewolf snorted. "I mean, a loser in silver pyjamas like that? I don't think I could keep a straight face."

"Oh, Robbie, my wolf--this is heel behavior."

"WHAT! I am not a heel, bro. I am a tough face." Robbie sulked. "Tweener at best. Maybe Daemian rubbed off on me a bit too much. I dunno." He sighed. "I miss the big, bad dude. Even if he did smell like chicken soup and cigarettes sometimes..."

Gio wrinkled his nose, grumbling. "I do not. He is crazy! And as you said, he smell bad."

"Which can be kinda hot in a certain mood," Icewolf added.

Gio mad an 'x' with his large hands. "No! No thanks."

While the spellbreakers chatted to themselves between matches, Colt and Mr. Iron, sitting in the VIP boxes some ways aback from Icewolf and Gio, were just glad to see the good-natured but rambunctious Icewolf being weened off the Aussie dark mage's influence. They were not, however, in Japan solely to make nice with their Japanese equivalent fed, Okami. The matter of the Chalices still took precedence. Which is why they had sought to rendezvous with Salim Netjeer, benefactor for the GSA and one of Aradia's board of directors. He would certainly take the matter with the gravity it deserved. 

"Did someone say beeeeeeers!" the giant, handsome Salim said. He sat down with a tray full of frothy mugs for Colt and John Henry's indulgence. All around him, the Japanese audience stared at his massive frame, making sure to get out of the way. They had never seen a man of such stature before. 

"I wonder if he's a spellbreaker too," a group of fangirls (for White Tiger) whispered to each other.

"Nah, I don't think so. Some foreigners are just big, is all. He is really good looking though, no?"

"I wonder if he's White Tiger's manager."

"No, that's Salim Netjeer! He's a wealthy philanthropist who funds all sorts of spellbreaking things."

"Him? I hear he's a bit of a playboy."

"I hear he's very strange. Into artefacts and stuff. He funded a famous documentary here in Japan about Egypt and then one one the Silk Road."

"Oh yes, I saw that one! It was very good. I wonder if a man that busy ever has time for things like love."

"What, are you going to hit on him, Yuko-chan?"

"No way! White Tiger is my dream hunk."

"I used to like Rai, but now I love his rival, Kengo. Mmm. He's so meaty and sweet. I bet he would be good husband material."

"I hear rumors he's gay though..."

"Oh, so what if he is? He better get a good boyfriend then. Someone who can cook for him to make sure he keeps those muscles big. A nice, thoughtful husband like that. Maybe I can match him up with my cousin..."

"I hear White Tiger may be dating Deadboy Daemian too. Ugh, all the good men are gay, I swear. What's a hot-blooded straight woman to do these days?"

The three veteran spellbreakers and their generous benefactor tuned out the fangirl's noise. Colt's mind, at least, was far away from the spellbreaking match about to take place.

"Buck's in Australia still," he sighed. "Hasn't talked to me in two weeks. Talked to Varla though. She refuses to get involved with us."

"Smart woman," Mr. Iron muttered from the corner of his mouth. "Man, is this what it's gonna be like if I have a son?"

"Or a daughter," Salim added, off-handedly. "Or, you know, an Iggy. Children are a handful, no matter what gender expression. Or so I assume, anyway. That's why I stay a confirmed bachelor. Hey, congrats on the incoming kid, by the way, John"

Mr. Iron narrowed his eyes, studying Salim's serene--but all-knowing--expression. "I don't remember telling too many people. Guess word gets out, huh? Anyways, Colton, Buck will come around. He's a level-headed fella'. And if I may be blunt, he's done a good job of running the GSA." He added, with complete candor, "Even if it's not the way that YOU would run it, cowboy. I mean, look, are your employees happy?"

Colt crossed his arms and sulked. "Yeah, I guess. I just..." He shook his head. Judging from the static teasing out his long hair, Salim and John Henry could tell he was stressed, generating excess electrons. "I'm just worried about the kid is all. And I'm worried about the way this championship is heading, especially with Firebird...you know..."

"Basically being a front for magickal terrorists working on behalf of Russia," Salim said, raising a glass. "Why, as you Yanks say, 'beat around the bush'? We know they're nuts, habibi. Why do you think Aradia is on their case. Besides..." Salim lowered his voice. "I think the US and Europe are going to be making moves on Russia very, very soon. Word I hear from my buds in Egyptian intelligence is...the Tsar isn't in very good health, and his generals aren't as organized as they'd like the rest of the world to think. With their recent stunt against Poland, and all the rumors swirling about the Black Library..."

Colt pointed a firm finger in his friend's direction. "Sir, if the damn CIA comes a-knockin', I swear it'll be the thing that tips my blood pressure over into stroke territory. You were the ones that got us into this fine mess with the Chalices."

Salim smiled, taking it in stride, and putting his enormous arms around Colt and Mr. Iron (two enormous men themselves). "Ok, but look at how much fun we're having because of it!"

"Grrr." Colt said, shifting suddenly. He winced, moving his arm away in pain. "Goddess-damn it..."

"I didn't think I was THAT strong," Salim said, taken aback.

Mr. Iron, however, was more concerned. "Colt, your shoulder."

"Just a minor dislocation," he muttered, turning away and burying his face in his beer. "When is this damn match gonna start anyhow..."

Mr. Iron frowned. Colt was being...very Colt tonight. "Minor dislocation? You've been burning the candle at both ends, cowboy. When's the last time you got a good night's rest?"

"Rest? When? My wayward kid is out there fighting GIANT MONSTERS with one of my best guys--and absolute headaches--and we got magical assassins comi' after us to boot. You think I'm capable of rest? On top of that, I've got tons of matches of my own. I'm booked. Didn't think I'd take part on this world tour to begin with. And, not to swing the pistol in your direction, slick, but if there's anybody who's done enough for us and should sit this out, it's you."

Mr. Iron raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

"You've got a kid on the way, John. I know you're literally made out of metal but..." he trailed off. "I've seen plenty of tough guys whose luck ran out unexpectedly. I don't want you to be one of them. I've been thinking. Once I get through to Buck, maybe you should take over as president for a bit. Or run this thing with me."

Several different throughs ran through Mr. Iron's head. Salim looked on, silently amused. "Gee...Colt...I dunno."

Colt shrugged. "I'm getting old, John." He pointed to his shoulder. "I truly hate to admit it. But...I think it's maybe time I hung up my boots for good. Let the new blood take over. What's the point of training them if we can't make way, eh?"

"Heh. You should try telling your son that sometime."

"...Maybe." Colt looked down at the ring, at the crowd, at Gio and Icewolf sitting in the front row, excitedly chatting about Goddess-knows-what. "India's in two weeks. Spike vs Rage. That heat between them could melt the sun, and not just because of Rage's powers."

Salim grinned. "A spellbreaking title match hasn't been garnered this much anticipation and excitement since...hmm...perhaps your first showdown with Serpent. I don't think out little blonde habibi has fully grasped the magnitude of it yet. Perhaps, it is for the best he does not. It might give him more anxiety."

"Goddess-damn," Colt said, empathically. "Spike's damn good, sure. I love someone who defies my expectations, and that boy's been full of surprises. But against Rage? I just don't know. Things are going in directions I didn't expect. Don't like it. And...I don't like what I'm hearing about him and Buck being involved with each other, neither."

Mr. Iron and Salim exchanged silent, concerned looks.

"Look," Colt said, "I'm gonna use the gentleman's. Be back before the fireworks begin."

Colt left Mr. Iron and Salim together, and it was only then that Iron noticed the subtle tension between him and the large benefactor. Something about him...was bothersome.

"A coin flip," Salim said, suddenly.

"Beg pardon?"

"You're wondering if you get through these next few months alive." Salim was far too casual in his speaking. "I got a hunch about these things, boss. Stay the course and fight Firebird, and you're looking at half-and-half." His expression, normally carefree, suddenly became grave. "I'm serious. I didn't want to have to tell you this either. You've been a phenomenal soldier."

Mr. Iron looked into his beer. No answers there. "You talkin' like it's the first time I saved the world," he said, smirking. 

"These boys don't know what you're capable of doing. You're truly a hero, Iron. Most who've done what you've accomplished would write books and scream it from the mountaintops. I know you said you're doing this to make sure your kid has a safe world in which to grow and thrive, but..." Salim placed his hand on the large man's shoulder. "You have allies. We're here to take the heat off you, boss. And I promise you, if I get my favorable outcome, then the world will be in a lot better place than it is now."

Mr. Iron immediately forced himself to act thankful and understanding, but the truth was, something about Salim's words felt...off to him. "What's your grudge against Firebird, anyway? Why have you really gotten involved in this?"

Salim smiled. The Mona Lisa would have been jealous. "If I told you everything about me, I wouldn't be so interesting, would I? Let's just say, I suspect Grigorivich is a bigger threat than anybody knows. Our last war was started by idiot men, who were, nevertheless, mortal."

"And you sayin' Grigorivich is...what? A demon? A god? Something hinky like that?"

"Oh, I suspect he's all too human. I just fear he's concealed the full extent of his powers. Plus...what's his endgame? The Chalices contain the provenance of the Goddess, right? During the war, the Albans and their secret societies wanted to get their hands on them, and most people thought they were crazy for doing so. Wrote them off. But we've seen what kind of weirdness surrounds these Chalices. Gods. Spirits. Creatures from other worlds. All seem to be drawn to those damn cups."

Iron nodded, taking it all in. "Well, we know they're meant to be used in a sacred ritual in Eden."

To which Salim, ominously, replied, "But have you considered what else they could be used for?"

"...No."

"That's the thing, habibi, nobody has. Except...perhaps, Grigorivich."

---

"Well, well, little cub," the tall, muscular spellbreaker in the dragon scale tights said as he approached his opponent, doubled over in agony. "Such a familiar situation we find ourselves in again." Rai sneered. His phantom dragon coiled around him, eyes glowing blue, ready for the killing strike.

Kuma Kengo, wearing his signature fundoshi, placed his hands on his knees, panting, blood dripping from his nose. He looked down at the bloom of red in his hand. "I...won't lose this time."

"Just like when we were kids," Rai sneered. "Kengo, I admire how far you've come in this sport. I really do. But challenging me again? Now that was a step too far." With a flick of his hand, Rai willed his dragon spirt summon into attack position. "How did I finish you off again last time? Oh yeah. Squeezing the stuffing out of you with my dragon friend, like anaconda to its prey."

As Rai willed his dragon into the attack, fangs bearing, he failed to notice the slight smile that had cut across Kuma's face.

"Blood," Kengo said. "As a medical student, I know spilled blood means danger. But, as a spellbreaker...it is a gift. There are many ways to beckon the spirits, you know, Rai. An offering of oranges or food. The sound of bells." Kengo, confidently cracked his neck and motioned for the dragon to strike. "But bears are drawn to scent of blood. I am no different. And neither is my summon! Come FORTH, Bear King Minoru!"

And like, hurry up pleeeease!

As the long dragon positioned itself to squeeze Kengo to death, a fountain of light erupted from Kengo's back tattoo, and a large, luminous shape sprung forth, claws at the ready.

"GET FUCKED, SCALEY!" the bear king roared, sinking its jaws into the dragon's neck!

"GAAAAAH!" Rai and his summon shrieked at the same time, both experiencing the same searing pain. Particles of light burst from the dragon's wound. For Rai, a geyser of blood. 

The audience, shocked, reacted with cries of fright. Even Colt, normally composed, couldn't believe how far his pupil had come. "Hot damn, boy."

Kengo had to suppress his instincts to rush over and assist Rai. He had soma in him. He would be fine. Even after this next part.

Hopefully...

As Rai sprung up onto his feet, one hand pressed over his wound, he snarled at his childhood friend and current opponent. "You BRAT! I'll KILL--"

"What will you do now?" Kengo said, as he arm dragged Rai into his grasp, and picked him up off his feet.

"I...uh..."

SLAM!

Kengo spiked Rai into the mat, just underneath the turnbuckle. The whole ring shook. It was a very disadvantageous position as well, Rai was soon about to discover.

At the other end of the ring, Minoru tore his claws through the phantom dragon. It shattered into particles of light, sending it back into the unseen. The sun bear spirit looked over. "Attaboy, Ken!"

Kengo stood on the top ropes, looking out into the crowd. He met Colt's smiling eyes. The cowboy nodded. 

Ohgodsohgodsohgods. Kengo gulped. Then, he summoned his resolve. Glowing with blue fire, he struck his fist to his chest. "One thousand spirit shattering...SENTON!"

Rai looked up just in time to see nearly 300+ pounds of Kengo coming down on him. Butt first.

BOOM!

The horrified ref fell to Rai's side. Keno, sitting on his defeated opponent, crossed his arms over his chest.

"Damn! Get a spatula," Mr. Iron said.

Gio couldn't believe it. "He smushed him...with his butt."

Icewolf sighed. "I know, bro. Lucky bastard..."

Twitching and gasping for breath, Rai, barely conscious, looked up at his scowling, giant friend. "Can't...breathe..."

"Hmph" Kengo stared down at him. Polite as he was, he couldn't help but smile. "Say sorry for throwing my Pretty Astral Princess Warrior manga into the river and I'll get up."

"But...we...were...like...six-years -old."

Kengo shifted on his seat. "Huh. Funny. This is a very comfy seat, actually."

"Agh! Okay, I'm sorry!" Tears in his eyes, Rai pleaded, "Kengo, you already pulverised my ribs...don't pulverize my pride too."

"We are even," Kengo said, standing. He graciously allowed the ref to hold up his hand. As Minoru dematerialized back into Kengo's back tattoo, the humbleness returned as well. Kengo blushed, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, gee...I guess I did it, huh?"

"I need...assistance," Rai groaned from the ground, as the medical magi sprung into being.

It was the first time since joining the GSA, that Kengo had honestly felt like a winner. Unexpectedly, he found a microphone in his hands. "Hmm?"

The promoter nodded. "Just a few words!"

"Uhhh...I dunno." Kengo gulped. "Um...okay. Yes, is this on? Yes, it's on. Okay. First, I want to thank my mom, who's in the audience. Hi, mom."

Somewhere in the quiet room, a woman shouted out. "I love you, son!"

Everyone in the audience 'awwwed'.

Except for one rude, haughty voice blaring in from over the speakers. "Ho ho ho! Well done little bear and little dragon. But you've sullied my ring for the last time."

Rai, finally, managed to pull himself off the mat. He looked over at the confused ref, and the even more confused Kengo.

"Ugh, it's that loser, Ken-kun."

"Who is..."

The ringside commentator, a tutu sporting catgirl named Nekole, piped up. "Oh nyaoooo! It's the Wonderful Tsubaki and his Kappa Boys!"

The audience found themselves forced to press their hands to their ears as a blare of motorcycles, and ensuing exhaust, filled the auditorium. Strange, green, imp creatures--a cross between ducks and turtles--burned rubber down the entrance aisle, all of them sporting nifty leather jackets, and their choppers completely souped up with fancy grills, decals, and lights. Some of the creatures carried kendo sticks in their free hands. Others, chains and pipes. There were at least six or seven in total. The ref immediately turn tail and fled.

And, appearing on top of the entrance arch, dressed in a shoulder padded, studded, pink leather jacket, (and with glorious, gold hair that even Iggy Astro might envy) their leader. Pink lipstick. Purple eyeshadow. The swishy villain licked their lips and announced their wicked intent.

"Oh ho ho hooo. Yes, 'tis I--the gorgeous, Wonderful Tsubaki, here to steal the show!"

Kengo did a double take. "He looks...like one of the villains from 'CoCo's Strange Saga'!"

The gaudy heel did a pose, half crossing their arms in some kind of strange, pseudo-vogue move. "Kappa Boys. Attack!"

The sun-glass sporting, pompadour-styled, green creature in the front nodded to his men. "'Dawright, boss. Guys, ya heard the boss! Let's kick their asses!"

In the crowd, Icewolf looked at Gio. "Uh...if we're in Japan, why do the Kappas have New York accents like Spike?"

Gio shrugged. "Must just be Gloria's translation magick."

Brandishing their weapons, the bancho kappas stormed the ring, circling and corralling Rai and Kengo. Though they were half the size of the two athletes, they were quick, and they had the numbers. Kengo clenched his teeth, pressing his back to Rai, staring down the strange water creatures. 

Tsubaki pressed the side of their hand to their face, a dainty gesture reminiscent of an effete aristocrat. "HO HO HO! Outnumbered are we? Well, too bad. I saw the perfect opportunity to take two peasants like you off the chessboard, and my cute self just had to take it."

"He's like Iggy Astro but worse..." Kengo grumbled. It was far too soon to summon Minoru. It would fizzle both their energy out. Likely, Tsubaki knew this and had waited for the right moment to attack. "Rai, I need backup here."

But the dragon summoner was out of power too. "Well, maybe I could have helped us if YOU HADN'T SAT ON ME." 

Kengo laughed nervously. "Er...sorry about that." I cannot believe I just won a victory and now I am going to be beaten to death by a bunch of delinquent yokai.

The creatures with the concave protrusions on their heads drew closer, brandishing their weaponry. "We're gonna make yous guyz wish youz neveh been born?"

Why do they talk like Spike? Kengo shook his head, trying to focus. "Hmm. Well, if you want to wrestle, then you should do the right thing and bow to us first!" Yes, that's right! In all the manga I've read, you defeat kappas by making them bow to you, pouring out the water in their heads and robbing them of their strength! Well, it's either that or carve your name into a cucumber and throw it at them...

The leather jacket-wearing leader of the bunch spat on the canvas. "We're bad guys. We don't bow."

"Gah!" Kengo flinched. "This isn't good, Rai. If they beat us up they might..." Kengo swallowed.

"MIGHT WHAT?" The dragon summoner screamed. He was panicking. "DON'T LEAVE ME HANGING--I HAVE ANXIETY!"

"They...they...they'll SUCK THE SOULS OUT OF OUR BUTTS!"

"WHAT!? WHAT!??"

The kappa sneered, licking his lips. "And you got a big, tasty rump there, big boy."

In the audience, Icwolf cocked an eyebrow. "Is it just me, or is this getting weird?"

Gio tapped the side of his head. "Uh...I read in a folktale book that they do, in fact, do that. It is lore accurate."

But before any butt-beating (or eating) could begin in earnest, the lights in the arena suddenly turned a hazy, rosy hue. A high-spirited rock jam blasted over the loudspeakers. Kengo, looking up towards the lighting rig (same as everyone else) felt something soft and fragrant rub against his cheek. 

When he pulled his hand back... "A rose petal?" the perplexed sumo hunk said. "What? It's raining petals? El Amante?"

"What is this nonsense?" Tsubaki, from his vantage point on top of the arch, snarled. He looked up into the shower of petals, now joined by an additional, gentle snowfall.

Out in the audience, Gio looked at the pile of rose petals in his lap. "I...know this magick. This is..."

"Did you miss me, fellas?"

The spotlight illuminated the entrance arch, specifically two strong, feminine silhouettes standing side by side. The kappa in the ring paused their advance, turning their green heads towards the sight of the two intimidating beauties.

The woman in the red, rose-themed gear flexed her muscles for the crowd. Her companion, a cold, beauty in a white kimono and icy-blue wrestling attire, conjured up a fan of ice and cooled herself off. 

"Reina Rosa!" Kengo blurted out. 

Icewolf stood up to get a better look. "Woooah! And who's the frosty, ice babe?"

Nekole was happy to answer the question. "What is going on, audience!? Nyaaa!? It's Reina Rosa and Yuki, the White Gale! A totally powerful tag team that's as deadly as they are pretty!"

Tsubaki growled. "Interference!? DURING MY MOMENT?"

The two lady spellbreakers stormed the ring. The kappa met the assault head on, raising their weapons to lay the smackdown. Rosa was quick to disarm them with her whip-like rose vines, tossing the foreign objects to the floor and lashing the creatures across the face just to prove a point. 

The leader charged at Yuki, who remained still, motionless, and unbothered. She placed her fingers to her lips and blew an icy fog, cutting off the kappa's line of sight. Incapacitated, she turned to her tag partner.

"Miss, I will take to the left. You, to the right."

Rosa nodded, pony-tail bobbing up behind her. "Got it, Yukes."

"My name is not 'Yukes'," she replied in a soulless monotone.

The two ladies jumped into action, dishing out round house kicks and elbow drops. Kengo and Rai jumped in to the help them, now that the playing field have been levelled. 

Icewolf was beside himself with excitement. "Ice...users are so...cool."

Gio, however, was trained on the muscular woman in red kicking kappa butt. "Rosa...she looks." He swallowed, feeling a heat come on. "So strong."

Kengo picked up a scrawny, green creature and tossed it over his shoulder, forcing its water to splash out (effectively knocking it out). "Rosa, I missed you!"

The fighter in red smiled, just as she crushed a kappa's head between her thighs in a standing head-scissor. "Missed you too, big guy. Looks like you could use some support."

"You've...turned face."

"Turning and serving it, bear!" Shew blew him a kiss. Then, the woman stood and conjured up another thorny wall, throwing it into two kappas charging at her with baseball bats. "Eat thorns, you cucumber-munching freaks!"

The grunts were down, leaving the largest pair of brutes to take on the four spellbreakers.

Yuki nodded to her tag partner. "Miss, are you ready?"

"Hell yeah!" Rosa said, flipping up onto the top rope. "Combo attack!"

Yuki summoned an icy wind, propelling her to the opposite tope. She crushed her fan in her hand, diamond-dust orbiting around her arm. "Soul of snow, unto my command."

Kengo and Rai knew they better stand back.

"Rose raid blizzard assault!"

A gale-force wind churned up rose petals, turning them into a perfect spiral around Rosa's body. On the other side of the ring, the snow formed a similar pattern for Yuki. The two queens of the ring jumped into the air, crossing over each other and combining elements, turning their magically-enhanced physiques into missiles of pure energy. 

BOOOOM!

The ring exploded into pink and blue light, scattering shards of ice and shredded roses. Nothing but a pile of two crushed kappa remained, joining their compatriots--strewn across the canvas--in similar twitching, steaming husks. They did it!

The bell rang.

"Thanks, ladies!" Kengo, ever-chipper, said.

Rai crossed his arms. "Hmph. We had it under control." He looked over at Yuki, pushing back her severely cut bob, platinum white, behind her ears. The cold, emotionless woman looked over at the svelt, spirit summoner.

And the spirit summoner found his eyes transformed into a pair of giant hearts. "WOOAAAH! Hello my gorgeous ice goddess."

Yuki blinked. "You should check your head for signs of injury, Sir Rai. You are acting erratically." The ice user nodded to her tag partner. "Miss. What of Tsubaki?"

The dandy devil jumped off the entrance arch, landing with perfect poise in front of the aisle. He threw out his hand, his gold bangles, bracelets, and jewellery melting and reforming themselves into a giant javelin. "How DARE you make a mockery of my assault. CHEATERS! This insult will not go unp--"

"Hey guys," White Tiger said, blotting his face with a towel as he came up behind Tsubaki. He seemed...unaware of what had gone on in his absence. "I was just signing some autographs for the children's hospital, did I miss anything--"

The audience, and Tsubaki, stared blankly at the hero hunk.

"Huh?" Tiger's eyes went from the hundreds of thousand-yard stares, up to the ring. "WOAH, Rosa! You look great, sis!"

"PAY ATTENTION!" The Wonderful Tsubaki screamed, pointing his weapon in the nonplussed champ's handsome face. "GRRR. Your little friends here are TOAST!"

White Tiger smirked. "Oh, I get it. You're supposed a big, theatrical villain huh?"

Kengo nodded and cupped his hands to his mouth. "He's THE WORST!"

The audience heartily agreed. 

Tiger dropped the towel and cracked his neck. "I got ya. Well, Mr. Tsubaki. Any last words?"

The prettyboy heel snarled. "I'M GONNA SKIN YOU AND TURN YOU INTO A PANTSSUIT!"

He barely got the sentence out, however, before Tiger grabbed him by the throat and lifted him straight off the ground. Tsubaki's eyes bulged out of his skull. 

"What...is...this power?"

"Tiger Power," the champ sneered. "Like I said. Any last words?"

"B...b..." Tsubani's eyes began to water with the realization that his fighting career was about to be over in a very painful way. "BALENCIAGAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!"

On that note, Tiger leapt into the air and slammed The Wonderful Tsubaki into the metal grating with the force of a tractor trailer. The sheer impact, and the heel's body, broke through the floor, leaving behind only a black hole...with Tsubaki's fate left uncertain.

"Not so 'Wonderful' any more," Tiger said, flexing his muscles.

Behind Colt, Tiger's three fans promptly gasped and passed out, near synchronized, into Salim, Colt, and Mr. Iron's open arms. Colt laughed. "Yeah...champs like us tend to have that affect on our fans."

---

It was a hell of a way to end the night. Kengo had never seen so many fans and adoring audience members gather around him, asking him for photos and autographs. Though unsure of how to nail poses, or what to say in gratitude, the bashful fighter expressed his gratitude. He had to hold back tears the whole time.

Finally. This is what it's like to be a hero. I wish Spike could see this.

Even sour-faced Rai had to crack a smile, taking a photo for Kengo and his mother, who had come down from the Temple to see them perform.

But it was Rosa, unexpectedly, who felt most on top of the world. While all the other boys were cavorting backstage or indulging fans, she had grabbed Gio and taken him out the back, away from the fanfare. They walked the halls of the arenas, travelling past the gorgeous stained glass windows on display. Rosa felt like she was back in Mexico, walking through one of the old, opulent churches.

"Nobody messes with the GSA," she said, with great enthusiasm, still hyped from the fight. "Okami crew are our friends."

Gio agreed. "Brava, Rosa! Oh, and you dropped this back there."

He handed her a bouquet of tiger lilies. 

Rosa looked down at the flowers in her hands, flattered, but confused. "But...these aren't mine. They're my favorite though. I know, really betrays the rose angle, huh? But I love tiger lilies because--"

"They are one of the flowers you can't grow with your magic," Gio said, on her behalf. He winked. "I remember you telling me. That's why you think they're special."

Rosa looked down at the beautiful blooms, and then, blushing, looked up at Gio. "Gio..."

"Er...they will probably wilt soon."

"I know," she said. She cleared her throat and recomposed herself. "I'm a plant magi too, remember. I know how it works." She strode ahead, not sure if she was just caught up in the moment, or if she was starting to catch feelings.

"You look...bigger, somehow, Gio, than the last time I saw you."

"You got prettier and stronger. Hmm. Red really is your color. Even on your face."

Don't look at me when I'm blushing like this. "Well, it's just...nice to run into old friends. How long are you in town for?"

"A week. And then, we're going to India to fight Firebird. Spike is--"

"Going up against Rage," Rosa said, wincing. "I know. He's good but...he's moving way too fast. Colt is pushing him and pushing him, and not that Spike hasn't earned his stars, but...I don't think he knows what kind of man Rage is. He's dangerous. Psychotic."

"Spike will crush him," Gio said, pounding his hand into his fist. The noise echoed throughout the corridor. "He has come far in just a year. But this is not about Spike. I came here to celebrate you."

Rosa bit her lip. Why was fighting always easier than...this? "Okay, so...if you're here for a week. Do you want to, like..." she trailed off, nervously mumbling to herself in Spanish. "Diosa mia, como le pido una cita..."

"You could just ask, Rosita. You know me. I prefer when people just tell me the obvious thing..."

The fighter in red felt her body grow warm and tingly all over. "You...understood that?"

"Italian and Spanish are similar languages," he said, smiling. 

Kill me now. "Er...right. Well. Okay then! I'm calling you out, Titan! You. Me. And Tokyo's botanical gardens. What do you say?"

The giant, muscle man leaned over and took her hand, kissing it. "I say, you are on, Reina Rosa."

Just as Rosa thought she might melt into the floor, quite the opposite element sprung up on her--the cold. A gust of wind announced the presence of her tag partner, Yuki. Honestly, the woman appeared and vanished like some kind of ghost.

"Miss," she said. Her eyes briefly travelled to Gio.

Rosa sighed. "Yeah, sorry. What's going on?"

The woman in white bowed. "Mr. Colt and White Tiger have asked me to help you in your efforts." She paused "I know where to locate the Divine Wellspring of Knowledge."

Rosa and Gio gasped in approximate synchronization. "You do?" Gio said. "You need to tell White Tiger. He has been looking. Where is it, Miss Yuki?"

The woman looked askance. "Ah, yes. There just...a problem. How do you two feel about...ghosts?"

To Be Continued

Chapter 7: The Heir and the Orphan

The drunken celebrants in the bar (not all of them human) raised their beer mugs to Spike in a raucous cheer.

Daemian, grinning ear to ear, handed him his own boot...filled with beer. "Alright, mate, you know what to do."

Spike's stomach turned into knots. Sadly, he did know what to do...he just didn't want to do it. "Oh, Goddesss--your boot!?" It smells so bad. I'm not into feet.

Whether he wanted to or not, the half-pint hero of the day found himself stuck between a barrel chested demon with an ox head, and a busty witch with a crow on her shoulder (who also joined in the drinking song).

The ghoulish assembly sang in unison as Spike chugged.

Here's to Spikey, he's true blue!

He's a piss-pot through and through!

He's a bastard, so they say!

He tried to go to Heaven, but he went the other way!

Spike's forced grin made Daemian's sadistic smile grow larger. Now, the dark magi mouthed: 'Drink it, now'

He went down...down...

Spike said a silent prayer to the Goddess and commenced chugging the boot-soaked beer. Thankfully, the blonde powerhouse (who had just helped save Sydney harbour from demonic destruction) had a very good gag reflex. 

He threw down the boot triumphantly on the bar, and then let out a triumphant burp.

The crowd lost their mind. "YAAAAY!" Soon, Spike was being hoisted on shoulders and paraded around the haunted pub. The four armed bartender quietly took Deadboy's boot, wiped it down, polished it, and poured the dark magi and his demon friend, Brax another drink--all at the same time.

Brax looked down at the frothy mug. He didn't drink, so instead passed the mug onto his companion. "Why...did you not summon me during the fight, my kindred? I could have helped."

Daemian was content to let Spike soak up the limelight. Honestly, he wasn't feeling much like a winner at the moment. "I didn't want to risk losing you, bud," he muttered, taking a chug.

"But...if you had died. I would have lost you."

Deadboy shrugged. "Then I would have seen you in Hell."

"Your human sarcasm-as-defense-mechanism belays the fact that you know that it does not work that way, dark one. Gehenna is not the realm of mortal punishment." The canid demon looked away. "Furthermore, why are none of these smelly mortals celebrating you as hard as Spike. It seems you have passed on all the glory to him."

Daemian shrugged, eying a mounted stag head on the wall, (which, in turn, eyed him right back, turning its nose up). "Don't wanna be a tall poppy, ya know? Besides, these folks think I'm trash anyway. All the pranks I've pulled in this town. Hell, in this own pub."

The mounted stag snorted. "You can say that again, ya c***t."

The handsome demoniac lifted up his mug to the decapitated head. "Cheers to you too, Frank." He neglected to tell Brax the time he and Frank had gotten into blows, which had ended with Daemian throwing the animated skull into the loo. And on taco Tuesday night, no less.  

After three lapse around the bar, a hefty lizard-man gently lowered Spike back onto a bar stool. The dark magi and monsters patted him on the back, but otherwise left him to his own company. 

The familiar, tattooed sailor next to Spike tipped his hat to him.

"Way to go, Spikey," Mick said.

Their reunion earlier in the night--post monster--had been one of many head-spinning moments for Spike, who hadn't seen Mick since his dishonourable discharge. What felt like a lifetime ago was, in truth, only a year.

The taste of boot and hops still intermingling inside Spike's mouth, the blonde hunk shook his head. "I'm trying not to hurl, Mick. But...good seeing you again."

Even with his gold tooth, Mick was the epitome of tasty, rough trade. "Almost like fate, right?"

Suddenly, a vision of that haggard tarot card reader under the bridge in Manhattan came rushing back to Spike. "Yeah," he mumbled. Speaking of fate. Shit, has it really been a year?

"Shore leave. Though honestly, I think I might stay in Sydney after my time is up. I miss home, you know." Mick threw down his beer. The man was in love with life. Nothing bothered him.

Which is why it was weird for Spike to see Mick expressing genuine sentiments. The handsome tattooed sailor cuffed Spike on the shoulder (hard enough that Spike felt his powers activate). "Get a bloody look at you, Waterford. Damn spellbreaking legend, you are. This is the dream you always wanted. I'm so proud."

Spike, who constantly craved validation, never quite knew what to do when getting a compliment suplex like this. He turned away, blushing. "Oh, geez. Dream? I dunno, man. Sometimes it's more like a nightmare, Mick." 

"Hmm. You miss the Navy?"

Spike nearly spat out his brew. "Nah. I miss some people. You, for one."

"Ah, big sweetie." Mick wrapped his giant arm around Spike's neck, bringing him in for a hug. It was then Spike realized two things: he was starting to get tipsy, and then Mick hadn't put on deodorant today.

Not that Spike minded much.

"Say, who's that strapping, fiery-headed bloke with the scowl?" Mick turned his head towards a neglected part of a bar, where a certain Cian O'Rourke was drinking by his lonesome and looking glamorously glum.

Spike felt bad. But he didn't know what to say. Even though Buck's kiss had a purpose behind it, it had also proven a point. "Cian," Spike muttered. "He's my coworker and..." Spike thought about what to call him. "Friend. Yeah...friend."

Then it occurred to him why Mick had asked. Spike whipped his head between the two. He's hot, muscular, red-headed and Irish. Mick is hot, muscular, tattooed, and Australian. Shit, if male-assigned-men could make babies...

Spike spoke as if he had just discovered the wheel. "You should...go and talk to him."

Mick made a face. "What? Big, handsome guy like that? And get a look at those legs! He could put one of the Sydney Convicts to shame. I dunno, Spikey. Maybe after some liquid courage."

Spike nodded and, feeling like Mick needed the space to be Mick, got up and left. However, as he looked over his shoulder, he thought he spied a miracle: Cian had come over to speak to Mick, and by that smile on his face, not merely to ask him for a cigarette either. That's my boy.

The air grew cold as Spike crept towards the staircase. Hiding in the shadows, the gloomy, ghoulishly handsome Daemian put a cigarette to his lips, his skull-shaped lighter lighting it with a creepy, green flame.

The badboy fighter barely acknowledged his comrade-at-arms. "Needed a dart." He took a long drag. "Normally, this would be the part of the night where I'd ask if you wanted to go off for a quick root, but..."

He sighed smoke. "I hate to say it, but all I can think about is...him." He winced.

Spike sensed who 'him' was. "Joseph?"

"SHHHHH NOT SO LOUD!"

Though smug, Spike was understanding. He crossed his arms and put a knee up on the bannister, throwing a side-eye at a drunk man hitting on two, unamused succubi sitting at a table in the corner. "You know, you're allowed to break kayfabe with your teammates...mate."

Daemian shrugged. "I don't like getting close to people," he said. "One side...always disappoints the other."

Spike didn't have time for Daemian's broody boy, Scorpio philosophy. "DUDE, you just frickin; saved Sydney. You're a damn hero!"

"STOP SAYING THAT!" Daemian reacted, as if Spike had just yelled he used wet the bed as a kid (which, to be fair, he did) "Spikey, please! Growing up, everyone said I was the bad guy. Now it's weird thinking I did something actually good for once." He put on a sour expression. "This isn't a face-turn, got it? I'm just...er..."

Daemain stamped out the buttof his cigarette, on his tongue no less--and rather than chuck it to the ground, ate it one gulp.

"Happy. I guess. I'm happy, Spike. There. I said it."

"Aww, D!"

Spike jumped into Daemia's arms, nuzzling his face like a small cat. 

"I will knock you into next Tuesday, let g---awww fine." Deadboy rolled his eyes, but placed one gentle hand on his friend's hat, patting it. "Thanks, mate. You know, none of these GSA c**ts say it enough, but ever since you and Cian and Kengo joined up, you three have been like a damn trinity of joy, or somethin'. You're like the...I dunno, the glue that holds the place together."

Deadboy grabbed Spike by the shoulders and held him in front of him, at arm's length, so he could look at him.

"Especially you."

"Wow. Thanks." Spike felt his eyes getting all starry. This was where he'd normally start to crush on a hot guy for complimenting him.

But then he realized that Daemian's friendship was much more valuable.

"Don't get used to it," Daemian scowled. He jabbed a thumb at the bar. "Well. I'm gonna get back on the sauce. Maybe I'll dark-corridor to Joseph. Been meaning to check up on him in Japan. Heard Kengo is going to be fighting in Okami for a match."

"Shit!" Spike exclaimed, loudly. He'd been so preoccupied with the tournament, and the Chalice drama, that he'd forgotten to check in on his own roommate. "I should go support him."

"Something tells me that you need rest," Daemian said.

Damn, Deadboy actually caring about me? I must be dreamin'

 "Uncle Daniel isn't much for drinking--or compliments--so he's not around but I'm sure I can convince him to zap you back to San Antonio lickity-split."

"That power..." Spike said, under his breath. "Even your Dark Corridors take some time to get through, and not just any normal person can traverse them..."

"Yeah, it's how airplanes stay in business--what's your point?"

"But Uncle Daniel's glyph..."

Daemian looked concerned, not an emotion Spike usually associated with him. "Please keep it a secret, Spike. I'm no tryin' to threaten you, just..."

"Well?"

The punk looked askance. "His glyph is 'Space'."

Spike frowned. "Quit fuckin' with me, wise guy. That glyph do't exist. The book Varla gave me says Space and Time magi went extinct long, long ago."

"Your book don't know the half of it, mate, trust me. Magick is so much stranger and crazier than any egghead scholar knows." 

There really was a smart, considerate fellow under that grungy exterior. Who knew? Certainly not Spike. There's tons more I need to learn about magick. Shit.

"Just keep on guard, Spike. I got this feeling in me gut...thing's are about to get intense." With that ominous delivery, Daemian walked away, leaving Spike in the dust.

"More intense?" Spike mumbled. He walked back to the bar. Cian was drinking by himself again, but judging from the half finished pint next to him, only temporarily. "Hey...Cian."

Cian looked like he had just eaten his own shoe in front of Spike. "Er. Hi."

"I'm sorry about Buck--"

"Why are you apologising?" Cian's eyes immediately went to the bathroom door in the back, and Spike put two-and-two togher. "We aren't a thing. I thought we squared that away in the hotel."

"Er...right. I just felt."

"Guilty?" Cian smirked at him. "I'm not going to say anything, boyo. Besides, Mick is coming back in a moment and he...is" Cian blushed. "He is cuuuuute."

"Wah!" Spike's eyes lit up. "Ciannnn!"

The Irish stud put a finger to his lips. "Don't blow this for me, boyo. Besides, we got bigger fish to fry. I need to call John Henry tomorrow." Cian surveyed the room, and, satisfied they were safe, lowered is voice. "While I was trying to apprehend Redback, that Gold Mask guy appeared."

"No frickin' way. Him?"

"Spike, keep your voice down!"

"Sorry!"

"Anyways, big lad saved my arse."

"So....he's a good...guy?"

Cian didn't look so certain. "He gives me a weird feeling, Brooklyn. I'm not saying I'm the best magi out there, but I got a keen eye for magick. His is...it's powerful, and I know he's restraining it. I don't know what his deal is, or why he's helping us, but nothing about him sits right with me." 

Just as Spike went to say something more, Mick barged into the scene. He grabbed Spike with one arm, and Cian with the other. Kissed both on the cheek too.

"Can I buy you lads a drink?"

Spike didn't want to steal this moment from his friend, and so gently removed himself from Mick's grasp. "You can by that lad a drink." He looked at Cian and mouthed 'go get 'em tiger.'

Cian glared, as his face turned beet-red. "Feck off. Thank you. By the way....Buck's upstairs. Drinking by himself." He looked away. "You should go fix that."

Spike felt his heart sink. He removed himself from the room and crept up the staircase, terrified and excited. When he got upstairs (and damn, the Aussies had giant pubs) Spike looked around for any sign of his boss, crush, and friend. A few skeletons sat around a table playing Poker, but that was it. The bartender, a lizard woman, pointed politely to the terrace.

Spike found himself looking out over the harbor, at the lights of Horror Land under the harbor bridge. It was then that he realized the night sky above, normally a gray, washed out ceiling with scant few stars, was completely covered in cosmic brilliance. Galaxies. Constellations. Spike had only seen this type of night sky when he was sailing below the equator, far out sea, where the lights of the city couldn't reach. It didn't make sense.

"Woah..." he said. "How?"

"People think dark magick is inherently evil," someone said from above.

Spike craned his neck up. There was a small ladder leading to the pub's roof, the sight of its steepled clock face. "Buck?"

Buck poked his handsome face over the side of the upper roof. "But dark magi can do beautiful things like take the light pollution out of the sky, giving us the true night." He looked up. "The dark magi of Sydney cast a spell tonight in celebration. Can you believe it?" He fell back, past where Spike couldn't see. "I should warn you...I'm a bit high."

"And I'm a but drunk," Spike said, with a trill in his heart, as he climbed up the ladder. He found Buck, knees to chest, underneath the large, stained-glass clock face. "So I guess we're both on the ropes, eh?"

Buck patted the ground next to him, indicating Spike should sit. 

Spike, deciding to take the lead this time, kissed him quick, before either of them could get into their heads about it.

Buck winced. "Oh."

"EXCUSE YOU?" Spike said, offended. 

"No, not because of the kiss! It's just...I heard they made you drink out of Daemian's boot. Which means...I just kissed the mount that drank from Deadboy's shoe."

"It's called 'a shooey'. And I'm not going to say rude thing's about someone else's culture but..." Spike felt his stomach turn.

"You probably just immunized yourself against like 8 tropical diseases doing that. Also, congrats on saving Sydney or whatever."

"You helped."

"I know," Buck said, snarky. "Your aim needs work."

"Your face needs work!" Spike winced. "Ugh, no it doesn't"

"You're such a dork, Yank."

"I'm going to kiss you again."

"I'm going to let you."

And without fanfare or build-up, Spike and Buck's lips were suddenly connected again. And for a while, too. Spike couldn't remember the last time he'd locked lips with someone for so long. He couldn't breathe. He didn't want to breathe. He wanted to drown in Buck's kiss, if it were possible. 

They broke away at the same time. Buck, smiling, couldn't resist falling back on teasing. "Wow, I can't believe it only took a kaiju to get you to finally make a damn move."

Easily rattled, Spike blushed. "I WAS WAITING FOR YOU TO DO SOMETHING, BUCK. Also, was it technically a kaiju or a Lovecraft?"

"I think it's only a kaiju if it comes from Japan, otherwise it's sparkling eldritch horror."

"...And you tellin' me I'm the dork?"

"Yes. So...what now?"

Spike and Buck looked at each other as if they were suddenly the last two men on Earth.

Immediately, Spike turned to how stupid all of this was. And sudden. He felt like he was on a runaway train, but strangely...he wanted to see whether or not it would crash or end up somewhere new, exciting...

Maybe even stable.

"You're the president of the GSA," Spike blurted out, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe what he was doing. "If El Amante finds out about this. I dunno what's worse, getting put in a deathlock or having to file out a disciplinary form. At least one would turn me on more than the other."

Buck acknowledge Spike's concern, and promptly jumped up on his Chuck Taylors, striking a dramatic, heroic pose.

He took on an exaggerated accent. "'Mi hijo, as head of HR I cannot in good faith condone your relations with a fellow employee....however, as the Guardian of Love, I hold romance to be sacred above all other things, and I strongly encourage you to woo Spike and make him feel like the most special man in all the world'." 

Buck sat back down next to Spike. he winked at him. "Is probably what he'd say."

Unfortunately, he was right. "I can't believe we put so much trust in a man who doesn't even show his real face. But look, Buck, I don't want to fuck things up. I got a history."

"I know. So do I. Besides, I'm more of a take things slow guy. Look, with Rosa...someone I really liked went on to bigger and better things. I guess I'm afraid of that happening to you too, because let's face it...you're probably on the way to champ."

Spike rolled his eyes. "I just got silver star status, Buck."

"Within a year?" He gave him a bemused expression. "The last person to do that..."

He swallowed his words.

Spike cocked his head to the side. "Hm?"

"...Was my dad."

"OH! But wait, I thought he--"

"Calavera Escarlata came up with the star system. Dad trained under him." The heir to the GSA shuffled in his seat and looked up at the brilliant sky. "He has no idea I'm in Australia, probably. Ever since Varla showed up, he's gone off the deep end. I think he went to Japan to blow off steam with Okami. He'll beat up a few brutes, throw back a few sake bombs, and then get it out of system. I feel like I should...I dunno, be trying to get to know Varla and Laura better. I mean, a half-sister! That's nuts."

"Oh, and your...actual mom," Spike pointed out.

"We know what our relationship looks like now. She's fine." 

Judging from the look in Buck's eyes, Spike believed it. 

"I know where everyone sits in my life now, Yank. Except...you."

In a moment of resounding clarity, and unexpected maturity, Spike lowered his shoulders and looked at Buck without expectation, nor judgment. "Well, what do you want?"

"For now, fun."

Spike nodded. "I guess I'm okay with fun."

"And  to see where it goes. And...I would like it to go somewhere."

The innocent spark of romance. Spike and Buck kissed anew, smiling, giggling, feeling stupid and drunk and high.

It was great.

Spike sighed. Okay, make some moves. Heartbreaker smile activated. "Well, for starters...we could go back to my hotel. Unless Cian is there. With Mick."

Buck leaned in closer. "We can go back to mine. Business suite? Champagne. Do you like champagne."

"No."

"Neither do I, actually."

"But I do like mimosas."

"Wow. How gay."

"Buck, you like men too."

"I think peach bellinis are more of a bi thing."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you too--let's pick up orange juice on the way back to my hotel."

Spike smiled. Inside, he felt a strange sensation in his heart, a bloom of warmth. It was odd.

He...had never felt this way about another man before.

----

By the time they got into the fresh-smelling hotel room, Buck and Spike were clawing at each other, hands going under shirts, feeling up muscles, and awkwardly falling down to the bed.

Somehow, Buck found himself straddling Spike.

"I mean...this material here is kinda like a mat. Why don't you show me some wrestling?"

"I dunno. I can be kinda rough, Buck." Spike flexed his bicep and gave Buck his signature wink.

"Unmf!" Buck said, longingly (and somewhat comically) feeling up Spike's boulder bicep. "That arm. But...rough, huh? Well, I can be rough too."

Spike wasn't sure how it happened, but somehow Buck had flipped him over--with grappling expertise.

The Sailorboy was both embarrassed and proud "Damn, boy! Strong. Like, unexpectedly."

"I get that a lot," Buck said, taking off his shirt. "Come on Sailor, you aren't gonna let a big heel like me end your streak, are ya?"

"Damn, abs! That chest. Holy shit, Buck, where were you hiding all that muscle?" Spike signed himself over to impulse. He'd been with muscle men, fat men, twinks, bears, wolves, otters--the whole zoo. 

But right now? A wild buck was the hottest thing he'd ever set eyes on.

So began the hunt.

Spike sat up, facing Buck, head bent forward in mischievous challenge. Their foreheads touched as they circled each other on their knees, on top of the bedspread 'ring'.

"Oh, we're taking off our shirts now?" Spike said. Though far more sober, Spike nevertheless seized the moment and conjured up enough might to rip his t-shirt right off his chest.

Buck's jaw dropped.

"Gah, yep...there's that Sailor Strength."

They found themselves midway between grappling and wildly, passionate making out with each other. Spike knew his strength and didn't want to make Buck feel bad. Buck didn't want to risk looking weak in front of Spike. Somehow, they met in the middle, both men gaining ground, falling over each other, twisting each other in a fluid dance that was part wrestling match and part dance.

Naturally, Spike ended up on top, letting Buck's hand explore his abs, up to his chest. Their eyes met.

A decision was made.

Spike, for some reason, felt like he was losing his virginity all over again (and it had been awhile). "I mean, if we're going to be doing some wrestling, we might as well..." he tugged at his zipper.

"Pull a Gio?" Buck said, arching an eyebrow. Then, he got the message. "Oh...like...traditional....wrestling"

"Yeah...."

"Yeah."

"..."

Spike pulled down his pants and jock strap. Buck pulled down his jeans and boxer briefs.

Two silhouettes of two fit men in their twenties, in the nude, sizing each other up.

Spike's eyes went downward. "Holy...shit." He IS his dad's son.

"I was going to say the...same. It's not fair that you..." Buck looked into Spike's eyes. "Have both going on."

Spike blinked. "I was a pinup boy, remember?"

"...Spike."

"...Buck."

A mix between kissing and grappling renewed, limbs tangled with limbs, a struggle as much as an exploration.

Suddenly, in the midst of passion, Spike found his neck captured by Buck. "AGH, a guillotine?"

He was strong. Way stronger than Spike expected.

Way stronger than he should be...

Though Spike couldn't see the playful sadism in Buck's eyes, he felt the stubble on his chin against the curvature of his back as Buck said, both soft and cruelly, "Let's hear it. Or do you want to go out?"

Spike had no choice but to tap out.

He yanked his head back and looked at his crush, naked and godlike. Buck was just as shocked as him.

"You just made me tap, and you aren't even--" Spike cut himself off before he could misspeak, but by then it was too late. "Oh, sorry."

And you aren't even a magi.

Buck frowned, sighed, and looked away. "You know how to ruin a moment."

"Yeah," Spike said, deeply embarrassed. He scratched his head. "I know."

"You wouldn't want to date a guy with no glyph."

"That's dumb, Buck. I want...I want you."

The hazel-eyed hunk looked over at him. They found themselves wrapped up in each other again.

"Spike."

"You can call me 'Sammy' if you want." 

"It's cute. You're cute. Can I touch you like this?"

"You can do that...and more."

Spike seized the moment, and put Buck back on his back, on top anew. "Ha! Got ya!"

"Oh yeah!? I got you noOooohhh fuck...."

"Yeah, I don't think we're wrestling in the traditional sense any more." 

"Buck..."

"Spike...."

----

Somewhere in Japan, amidst a roar of boos from the disapproving crowd, Vahni Rage placed his red boot on the back on the unconscious, broken, and burned champion of the Okami federation. The ref raised Rage's arm to the skies in victory.

"Unhand me, peasant," Rage snarled tearing his arm away. He snatched the belt from the humble officials, and stepped out of the ring. "Now, be gracious to your new champion and fetch me a towel and some sparkling water. With lemon. Or else."

As Rage strutted by disapproving fans, some of them in tears, his burning, dark eyes set themselves upon a strange, pink-haired woman with a cute face, a tutu, and a cats ears and tail. Cognizant of the camera, Rage waited til he was backstage before he snapped his fingers at the PA's and dismissed them (after taking his water and towel of course).

He realized the small woman was carrying a microphone (with a giant heart and bow wrapped around the stem). She did not seem afraid. She smiled and closed her eyes. "Nyaaaa."

Without breaking eye contact, Rage sipped from his straw and sighed. "And who the hell are you?"

The little woman turned around and struck a pose (sparks of light flew from her pink hair, reminding Rage briefly of Iggy Astro) "Just everyone's favorite spellbreaking reporter for Okami, Nekole. Nyyaaaa! Rage-san, you just defeated the champ!"

Rage sighed. "Gods, why me." Unfortunately, though he wouldn't say it out loud, she was...cute.

Plus, if she wasn't afraid of him, she was either respectful or deeply stupid. "What business do you have with me..." Rage groaned. "Miss...Nekole."

Suddenly, Rage was surrounded by TV cameras (all of them capped with cat's ears).

"Gods...really?"

"Everyone wants to know, Mr. Rage! Now that you made it this far into the World Championships, the only logical opponent left for you take on would be White Tiger! And you know I'm a fan of a big, cute cat man, nyaaan! Can you confirm that you've got your eyes set on the champion of the GSA?"

Rage cocked his head to the side, scratching his beard in contemplation. It was a valid question. After all, Semyon (the snake) had informed him that this was to be Rage's next big booking. Not that Rage could object. The man paid his bills.

But...then again...do I even need the money at this point?

A dark impulse took hold. Fights like this always made him more clear headed, like he could see all of his possible paths laid out. And this time, his path wasn't going to be dictated by Semyon Grigorivich, or Firebird. 

"You know, Nekole, my beauty, that is a rather good question." Courteous to those who showed him sincere admiration, and not toadying fear, Rage respectfully gestured for her to hand him the mic.

The starry-eyed cat girl obliged.

Grr. It's so...pink. "Right. Well, my loyal worshippers and stupid peasants alike, the last thing your favorite spellbreaker would want to do is disappointed you, or even worse, do something boring an expected. I am not a blood-starved hound meant to be tied on a short collar. Far from it. I'm a divine beast, sent to bring retribution to the weak and miserable. So, I'm a bit insulted you think a little...kitty cat like White Tiger would be challenge enough for the Warrior of Flame."

Watching on a TV set miles away in his chamber of the Russian palace, Grigorivich suddenly leaned in and turned up the volume on his TV set. "Oh? Rage, my sweet child...what do you think you're doing?"

Rage's handsome, cruel face stared directly down the camera. "No. A beast of the gods needs a more worthy opponent. And I hear there's a golden lion named Sailorboy Spike who's been making waves." 

Smeyon clutched the TV remote harder. "Hmmm?"

On TV, Nekole gasped, excited. "Yes! The Sailor Stud has a growing fanbase here in Japan too! He's Kuma Kengo's roommate! We love him."

Rage nodded. "Then, how unfortunate that I will need to take him from you. Spike knows it's been a long time coming, this battle between us. It's destiny. Fate. Which is why I am going to set the terms of the fight--and I say that our arena shall be in my family's temple, in India." His sneer at the camera could have easily broken the lens.

Everyone gasped. "WHAT?"

In his chamber, Semyon snapped the remote control in two. 

Rage wasn't done yet. Eyes glowing like embers, a fiery aura surrounded him. "Did you hear that, Spike? It's time I ended your little streak, and perhaps your career. I told you this once already, my little lion...you belong to me!" 

To Be Continued