MaruMonzterz - 5. And Suddenly Braid

Monday, 27^th January.

Dear Rumiko Higurashi,

Thank you for signing up for the Japanese MaruMonzterz Tournament. We hope it will be a great experience for you.

In order for the tournament to run as smoothly as possible, we have enclosed your group’s schedule for the first two weeks of competition (Monday 3^rd February to Friday 14^th February). Please arrive within half an hour from your scheduled fights so as to avoid delays. We have also included the tournament’s extended rules for clarification purposes.

If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact our organiser’s team. You can do so by replying to this e-mail address or by post.

Yours truly,

Tomohiro Maruyama

President of the Japanese MaruMonzterz Association (JMA)

Rumiko finished reading the e-mail from the JMA and proceeded to hug, squeeze, and nearly decapitate the closest available plush toy (a fluffy giraffe that had done nothing to deserve such fate). She had been waiting for this e-mail for nearly two weeks now, ever since she registered for the tournament. This was the final proof that she was indeed going to participate in a nation-wide competition for the first time in her twelve years of existence. Rumiko was surprisingly not all that scared of such a daunting feat (it probably had something to do with her having a mighty centaur with a dubious sense of humour for a True Spirit), but was instead excited and looking forward to having fun in the competition.

Not being afraid was actually such an unusual occurrence that Rumiko was almost afraid of not being afraid.

The e-mail from the JMA had two attachments. The first was a PDF named Japanese MaruMonzterz Tournament Rules, and the second was a PDF identified as Participants Group E. Rumiko decided to open the rules first, because to this day not even Kinomoto seemed to know exactly how the tournament was supposed to run. Once Rumiko opened the file, the first thing she noticed was that the background of the PDF had been decorated with dozens of MaruBalls depicting a whole spectrum of cute and scary faces. They were arranged in groups of three or five, scattered around the page. It was kind of distracting, which caused Rumiko to spend the next five minutes examining every single MaruBall and giving it a pet name before she noticed the text in the middle of the page.

Extended Rules for the Japanese MaruMonzterz Tournament

First Stage: Preliminaries

1. There shall be no more than 100 (one hundred) participants in total. Online registration opens on Sunday, 12^th February and operates on first-come-first-serve bases. Registrations will automatically close once the 100^th form is received.

2. Participants are divided in ten groups of ten individuals (groups A to J).

3. During the first nine days of competition (3^rd February to 7^th February, and 10^th February to 13^th February), participants fight once a day, against one other member of their group.

4. Fights last for five minutes each. The winner is the one who manages to inflict the most damage to their opponent during the allocated time.

5. If a MaruMonzter is defeated in less than five minutes, the winner is awarded 10 (ten) points. If neither MaruMonzter has been defeated in that time, the one who inflicted most damage is awarded 5 (five) points.

6. On the last day of the First Stage (Friday 14^th February), the two highest ranking players from each group fight each other. The winner is declared group champion and proceeds to the next stage.

7. The Japanese MaruMonzterz Association (JMA) takes no responsibility for damage caused during the fights. Participants who register for the competition automatically agree with all tournament rules.

This was the whole content of the file. There were no mentions of what would happen in the next stage beyond an acknowledgement that there would be a next stage. This was because the first sheet of rules had cost the organisers a fortune in design (arranging all the MaruBalls in some kind of orderly fashion was not an easy task, particularly when all the good graphic designers refused to take the work on because it sounded horrible and impractical even as a concept), and they were not willing to spend more until they absolutely had to. For a tournament of this size and magnitude, it was an unprofessional move, but the organisers had more important things to worry about. As long as all relevant information reached every participant, they considered their job done.

And, obviously, the more important things the organisers had to worry about were top-secret information shared only among JMA top employees and the story’s Plot Management Department. And thus, Rumiko would remain blissfully unaware of them until they became properly plot-relevant.

‘Master, why are you staring at the screen like someone was so busy crushing the forth wall that they forgot to describe your actions?’ an ethereal voice disrupted Rumiko’s lack of action. ‘Just for the record, I think it’s time you look at the second attachment.’ Like a robot that had just been switched on, the girl suddenly sparkled to life again, and looked around her room trying to figure out who had spoken. She quickly spotted Fenki’s Spirit Medallion innocently resting near her keyboard, and her black MaruBall lying innocently on the bed with its smiley face turned towards her. This meant the voice could not have been Fenki’s. The centaur could not possibly have spoken from within the medallion. True Spirits were only supposed do things when the MaruMonzterz were fighting in the arena. Or so Rumiko had been told…

‘Master, you’re supposed to be reading the second attachment, not wondering about creepy voices in your head!’ The voice spoke again. It sounded too much like Fenki for it to be a coincidence. The centaur was the only creature Rumiko knew that was capable of making deep, ethereal voices of doom sound like they belonged to playground children. ‘Hurry up, I want to see who we’re up against!’

“Fenki?” Rumiko asked, in a shaky voice. She had mostly gotten used to speaking with the True Spirit in her head during fights, but this situation was definitely nothing like a fight. She was too shocked and scared to remember she did not need to speak out loud.

‘Master?’ the centaur asked back, or at least his voice did. There was no sign of Fenki’s physical form anywhere in the room. He continued talking, as if he was unaware of (or sadistically ignoring) Rumiko’s confusion. ‘Don’t you want to know who our opponents are going to be?’

“I…” Rumiko opened the second attachment without completing whatever thoughts she was having. Her self-preservation instincts kicked in and told her it was a very bad idea to disobey a monster who could slap, kick butts and vomit on demand. Those were the same instincts that told her to hide every time she saw pink fluffy coats and half-eaten watermelons, but this time around they probably had a point. Fenki made a childish (though still ethereal and terrifying) exclamation of approval and was about to praise Rumiko when a timely knock on the door switched off his spotlight.

“Rumi-chan, Kinomoto-chan is here,” Rumiko’s mother called from the other side of her daughter’s door. “You have homework to do, don’t you?”

“Yes, mum.” Rumiko walked to the door on shaky legs to let her friend in, noticing with some relief that Fenki seemed to have left her alone. Rumiko felt suddenly grateful that her relationship with Kinomoto had improved to such an extent that her friend had no more reservations about coming for a visit, particularly if those visits were aimed at improving Rumiko’s school performance. “Hi, Kinomoto-san.”

“Are you well, Higurashi-san? Your voice sounds shaky,” Kinomoto asked, once Suzume was no longer in the room. “And you look very pale.”

Rumiko was not sure she should tell Kinomoto about Fenki’s mysterious voice-only appearance. She did not want her friend to think she was imagining things to get attention. Surprisingly, though, it was the centaur’s disembodied voice who cleared her doubts. ‘Go on, Master, tell her. She’ll understand.’

“Can True Spirits talk to us?” Rumiko asked in an uncertain whisper. Kinomoto cocked her head to the side, wondering why Rumiko was asking about that.

“Yes. Fenki has already talked to you before. I believe he has been doing so since you found him.”

“During fights, yes. I know they can do it,” Rumiko clarified, still whispering. “But I mean… when the Spirit Medallion is not even active…”

“Like now?” Kinomoto asked. Rumiko’s questions were beginning to make sense. Rumiko nodded and bit her lip. Even with Fenki’s incentive, she was not ready to admit she was hearing voices in her head. “Fenki is trying to talk to you now?”

‘Yes, yes, it seems to be the case,’ the centaur’s voice echoed in Rumiko’s mind. Kinomoto showed no signs of being able to hear it, though, so Rumiko nodded again.

“Yes, they… they do that from time to time,” Kinomoto answered, smiling sympathetically. “Flamelus does this sometimes too.”

“He does?” Rumiko asked. She was relieved, surprised, and even oddly excited by the fact that Kinomoto shared her experience.

“Yes. Though the first time he spoke to me outside of fights he politely explained that he could do that, and that I was not just imagining things. It looks like Fenki did not do the same to you.”

“He kind of just spoke out of the blue and I got scared. I didn’t know what to think,” Rumiko nodded. Her relief was palpable, she was even lifting the corners of her lips.

‘I was not trying to scare you, Master. I just felt the need to point out that you had been staring at your screen long after you finished reading the tournament rules,’ Fenki defended his actions.

‘You scared me!’ Rumiko’s thought came without her even realising she was thinking it.

‘Well, that…’

“I guess Fenki is not very polite,” Kinomoto unknowingly interrupted the centaur. “Or he did not realise he was scaring you. True Spirits are kind of… weird. They do not understand human emotions very well, I think.”

“What are they?” Rumiko asked. Until now she had been so marvelled by what her centaur was capable of that her limited-capacity brain had no neurons left to wonder about the creature’s origins. But now that it turned out True Spirits could invade people’s minds and intrude into their private thoughts, however, knowing exactly what she was dealing with became an obvious priority.

“I am not entirely sure myself. Flamelus has been rather vague about it.”

‘There are things you’re not meant to know,’ Fenki said. Rumiko repeated his lines to Kinomoto, and the girl nodded in acknowledgement.

“That is exactly what Flamelus told me.”

“But then how do we know they’re not dangerous? What if they’re trying to hurt us?” Kinomoto’s answer caused Rumiko to rambled, becoming increasingly desperate as more words left her mouth with no punctuation to stop them. “I’ve got this voice in my head and I can’t stop it and I didn’t know it was going to happen and if I did I wouldn’t want it there what should I do what can I do?” Kinomoto smiled sympathetically. She had gone through a very similar experience with Flamelus.

“I do not think you have to worry too much right now, Higurashi-san,” Kinomoto told her distressed friend. “True Spirits cannot cause us any harm. They seem to be like kami for MaruMonzterz, and it is a great honour to be chosen by them.”

“Did Flamelus tell you that?” Rumiko asked, her fear turning into paranoia, and somehow causing her to momentarily develop proper analytical instincts. “How can you be sure he’s telling the truth? What if he’s lying?”

“I do not think he is, but I see your point. I have no way to actually prove to you that they are not going to harm us.” On that bombshell, Kinomoto observed Rumiko intensely, hoping to identify signs of distress or emotional breakdown.

‘Your friend speaks the truth. We are not here to harm you,’ Fenki told Rumiko. ‘I chose you to be my Master for a reason, and even though I can’t explain to you that reason, I swear that it would be very counterproductive for me to let you be harmed. I want to be your friend, Master!’

“Fenki wants to be my friend,” Rumiko told Kinomoto. She sounded surprised by her own words.

“Yes, they want to be our friends. The better our relationship with our True Spirits, the stronger we become.” Kinomoto smiled, hoping to cheer Rumiko up a little. “Flamelus and I have known each other for almost a year now. From very early on I told him I did not want him intruding in my thoughts all the time, and he has respected that. Maybe you can ask Fenki to do the same.”

‘But what if I have to tell you something important or let you know about some mortal peril?’ the True Spirit asked Rumiko before she could react to Kinomoto’s plan. He sounded somewhat desperate.

‘There will be mortal perils? I don’t want mortal perils! They’re scary and I’ll get hurt!’

‘But that’s why you’ve got me, Master! Together, you and I can make it less scary, and annihilate them all so they can never bother us again!’ If Fenki had some kind of solid shape at that moment, he would be grinning like a medieval knight ready to embark on a bloodied frenzy. It was probably for the best that Rumiko could not see his face.

‘So there will be mortal perils!’ was all Rumiko got from his speech. She had not signed up for this when she got her MaruBall. Though, come to think of it, neither had she asked for a disappearing shop, nor to have her cute bunny forcibly turned into a powerful centaur. It was as if Rumiko suddenly had no say on what went on in her life. Realistically speaking, this should be reason for great worry. Fenki, however, was not one for realisms (or at least for straight talking).

‘We’ll be great friends! I can feel it, Master! Our combined strength will rival no one’s!’ He purposely avoided any further mentions of great perils, pretending no such thing would ever happen (or maybe hoping it would not). ‘But if you really want it, I agree to shut up until you call for my help.’

‘Thank you, Fenki. I don’t want to feel like my mind is not my mind.’ Rumiko sighed in relief.

‘No worries, Master! You won’t ever notice I was ever here!’ Fenki answered with double enthusiasm. ‘Though I’ll actually be somewhere around here. We’re now connected forever! So if you ever need some help, you can just call for me! It’s like having your own super-hero! Isn’t that cool?’

Rumiko was not entirely sure of what to say to that. She had been very close to coming to terms with her new situation, but the centaur’s attempt at reassurance ended up making her worried again. It took another half an hour of conversation with Kinomoto to make her feel slightly more at ease with the new presence in her life.

At that point, the girls realised they still had not completed their homework, so they turned to their kanji notebook and their Math exercises and spent the next hour worrying about far more mundane things.

(...)     

After a gruesome hour of mental calculations and intense calligraphy exercises, Rumiko was finally free to show Kinomoto the e-mail she got from JMA. They read through everything, including the fight schedule for Rumiko’s group.

“Well, that explains why I could not register yesterday,” Kinomoto concluded after reading the rules.

“You tried to register? Have you found Flamelus, then?” Rumiko asked, eager to see her friend’s gryphon in action. Nowadays Rumiko’s practice matches against Ken were so one-sided that she longed for a True Spirit opponent to make things more interesting (and for poor Ken to stop being humiliated so badly all the time. It made her feel horrible).

“Not really, but I made my parents promise that if they do not organise everything in the house by the end of the month, I can go and look for Flamelus on my own. So I figured I would have been able to fight in the tournament with him, but when I tried to register it said there were no more places. I guess I will have to try again next year.”

“I see. But at least you can help me practice when you get Flamelus back, right?” Rumiko asked.

“It will be my pleasure, Higurashi-san. I cannot wait to show you what a real fight feels like.” Kinomoto grinned suggestively, and Rumiko laughed. She could not wait either.

(...)

Monday, 3^rd February. The Japanese MaruMonzterz Tournament begins.

According to the timetable sent by the JMA, Rumiko’s first fight was scheduled for 17:50 that day. This meant Rumiko had to be at the MaruMonzterz stadium no later than 17:20, which was perfectly achievable for someone leaving school at three o’clock. However, Rumiko and Kinomoto wanted to watch the tournament’s opening ceremony, which would take place at half-past three that day. In order to be there on time, the girls left school in a hurry, faced an overcrowded subway ride, and did their best to run the rest of the way to the stadium. Ken joined them during the subway journey.

The main problem with their plan was that neither Rumiko nor Kinomoto were good at running distances longer than twenty meters at speed above light jogging. So, after merely one block of attempt sprinting, the girls were already suffering from short breath, profuse sweating, and reddened faces and neck. On the other hand, Ken, who played handball at school and was therefore considerably fitter and faster than the girls, quickly ran beyond their reach.

“Argh, I can’t do this anymore!” Rumiko stopped her pathetic attempt at putting one leg in front of the other and leaned against a wall for support. Kinomoto did the same beside her. They had stopped in front of a posh hotel, and some passer-byes sent them dirty looks of disapproval.

“This way we are going to miss the ceremony! We have only ten minutes…” Kinomoto agreed, between one desperate grasp for oxygen and another.

“Are you talking about the MaruMonzterz tournament by any chance?”

Rumiko, who had been leaning forward and holding her knees, looked up to see who had spoken to her. The first thing she saw was a furry brown snake-like thing that moved and seemed to greet her. Her eyes focused on the thing so much she failed to notice that it came accompanied by a blue coat and a smiling child. The thing reminded her of a) a snake and b) dozens of tiny mice, two types of animals she considered dangerous.

“Argh, a hairy monster!” Rumiko screamed. Her tired muscles tried to protest as she ran for cover behind Kinomoto, but their cries were muffled by the ominous mantle of fear that enveloped Rumiko in moments like those. Only when she was safely standing behind Kinomoto did Rumiko realise that the hairy monster was actually a very long braid, and that it belonged to a child looking at her in either shock or amusement (it was surprisingly hard to tell).

“What happened? Did I do something wrong?” the owner of the magnificent braid asked.

“I am sorry. Higurashi-san is easily scared,” Kinomoto explained. Rumiko was still hiding behind her. She was no longer afraid of the braid, but she was too embarrassed to open her mouth and explain the situation herself. “I think your braid was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I understand. And I apologise to Higurashi-san,” the braid owner said, catching Rumiko’s eyes and smiling politely. “My name is Toshihiro Urameshi, and I am heading to the MaruMonzterz stadium for the opening ceremony.” Urameshi bowed to the girls, and they did the same. “You seemed to be going there too, so I thought I should ask if you needed any help getting there…”

“You’re a boy?” Rumiko suddenly asked, despite her embarrassment. She stared at Urameshi like he had grown an extra head. “You have a lot of hair for a guy.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Urameshi agreed. He did not seem offended by Rumiko’s question; he even widened his smile. Rumiko had not been the first (and would definitely not be the last) person who tried to guess his gender based solely on the amount of hair sprouting from his head. “When I was eight, my best friend and I promised we wouldn’t cut our hairs while we remained friends. This was almost five years ago, and you can see how it turned out.” Urameshi pointed to his braid, which reached all the way to his waist. Because of the hood of his winter coat, he had positioned it in front of his body.

“Wow, that’s cool!” Urameshi’s smile dissipated Rumiko’s embarrassment. The boy’s attitude made Rumiko feel safe enough to openly gawk at the giant braid in absolute awe. The only people she had ever seen with such long hair were anime characters, so she imagined Urameshi was one such character, and pictured him crawling out of the nearest TV set to start a new life in the real world.

“We are heading for the stadium as well, but we think we will not be able to arrive in time for the opening ceremony,” Kinomoto carried on with the conversation while Rumiko imagined a whole episode’s worth of plot for Urameshi’s backstory.

“I think I might be able to help you with it,” Urameshi said. “I was personally invited to participate in the Japanese Tournament by Maruyama-san, the president of JMA. Since I’m not from here, he promised to give me a ride to the stadium. You can come along with me if you want.”

“You were personally invited?” Rumiko asked. She was so impressed by him that everything Urameshi did or said ended up making him sound even cooler. “Why? Are you strong? Have you got a True Spirit? Where are you from?”

“I’m from China, though my father is Japanese,” Urameshi did not seem fazed by so many questions. In contrast to Rumiko’s enthusiasm, he answered her calmly and patiently, keeping a gentle smile on his lips permanently. “I do have a True Spirit, and the reason I was invited to the Japanese Tournament is because no one in my home town can beat me.” Urameshi let this statement of his strength hanging in the air for effect. He paused for just the right amount of time before speaking again. “And the reason I accepted to participate in this tournament is because they offered free travel, free food, and free bed for a month. I couldn’t say no to that!” Urameshi laughed, and Rumiko and Kinomoto soon followed.

As if waiting for his cue to show up and interrupt the children’s interactions, a plump man wearing a suit and tie appeared beside Urameshi to take him to the stadium. True to his earlier promise, the boy asked if Rumiko and Kinomoto could go with him. The plump man (who turned out to be the JMA’s president, Tomohiro Maruyama), saw no reason to refuse the request, so Rumiko and Kinomoto had no problem arriving perfectly on time for the opening ceremony.

(...)    

The car ride to the stadium was very short, despite Tokyo’s intense traffic and congested roads. The JMA’s official transport vehicle (really just a normal cheap car with JMA’s logo painted on all its doors) was suspiciously never caught in traffic jams or stopped by traffic lights. It swished by everyone else, like its mere presence on the road was enough to clear the way ahead. Because of those interesting circumstances, the group arrived at the stadium in less than five minutes.

“Very well, children. I have to join the other JMA officials now, but I trust that you can find your way around the stadium?” Maruyama asked his travel companions as soon as they got out of the car. The man seemed to be making a great effort to keep a smile on his face and his lunch in his stomach. Hopefully it was just a case of extreme stage fright, and not, say, a case of a man suffering because he knew a cruel fate awaited the children in front of him.

“Yes, Maruyama-san. I think we can survive on our own from here. Thank you very much for the ride,” Urameshi answered politely. He bowed to the JMA’s president and smiled to him until the man turned away and left. Then Urameshi directed his attention to the girls. “Should I leave you on your own as well? Or would you like my company for a little longer?”

“I would not mind if you stayed with us, Urameshi-san,” Kinomoto answered. The braid boy was almost as polite and well-behaved as she was. After having to stand Ken’s company every day for nearly two months, Kinomoto thought it was refreshing to be near someone so civilised. Urameshi could not be much older than her (he still showed no signs of puberty approaching), which granted him extra points on Kinomoto’s internal acquaintance rankings.

“I wouldn’t mind either,” Rumiko agreed. She stared at Urameshi’s marvellously long braid for another two seconds before her eyes diverted to the MaruMonzterz stadium in front of them.

“Good. Then let’s go inside and find seats.” Cued by Urameshi’s invitation, Kinomoto stepped forward, but Rumiko did not move. She stood very still with her mouth hanging open and her eyes gleaming in amazement. The other two children were puzzled at first, but as soon as they turned to the stadium, they understood Rumiko’s feelings.

The stadium was a huge building two stores high. Instead of walls, its exterior was adorned by elaborated white arches, which Rumiko would have associated with the Roman coliseum if she knew it existed. The arches were so well polished they seemed to glow in the sunlight. The building had an air of grandeur and splendid poshness that should not belong in a children’s game, particularly one that was still relatively unknown. The overall impression was that someone very rich had megalomaniac expectations for the game, and decided to build a giant stadium for it just because they could.

“Higurashi-san, we must go now,” Kinomoto called her friend after she was done taking in the most impressive details about the stadium’s façade. When Rumiko failed to answer, Kinomoto clapped loudly in front of her face, and she jolted awake.

“What was that?” she asked in mild panic. Kinomoto knew her friend well enough to expect such reaction, so she quickly put Rumiko at ease.

“You seemed a little distracted, so I had to get your attention. We need to go find seats now, or we will not be able to watch the opening ceremony.”

“Oh, no! Let’s go, then!” Rumiko beamed, taking off towards the entrance. Kinomoto and Urameshi followed suit. The braid boy seemed highly amused by his two companions, and kept a smile on his face until the opening ceremony started.

According to the signs inside, the sitting area was accessible only from the ground floor, while the arena could only be entered via the second floor. This arrangement did not make much sense until Rumiko, Kinomoto, and Urameshi went in and saw where the fights were going to take place.

There were not just one, but two arenas positioned side by side. Each arena was the same hexagon shape as the improvised arenas Rumiko was used to, but much bigger: at least ten meters at its longest point and five meters at its widest. The walls marking its shape were about a meter high. Each arena was surrounded by four raised platforms, designed to keep the players safely away from the scuffling monsters as the fight went on.

The two arenas were surrounded by a wall at least three meters high, above which the audience seats were located. Thus, spectators looked down on the arenas rather than horizontally at it. At first glance Rumiko thought it was a stylistic choice to have the arena lower on the ground than the audience, but this impression would not last long. As soon as the fights started, it would become clear that a three-meter wall was not just a style choice, but a true health and safety necessity.

One staircase descended into each arena from the second floor, ensuring this was the only safe way to enter the fight space (technically, it was still possible for someone to jump from the audience, but it would be unsafe and very painful). The second floor consisted of four relatively narrow corridors surrounded by safety rails, leaving the vast majority of what would be floor space open. To fill the void, four giant screens were suspended from the ceiling until they were hanging just below the second floor.

No sooner had Rumiko, Kinomoto, and Urameshi managed to find three seats together, Maruyama and two other men came down one of the staircases. They climbed on the nearest platform and their image appeared on the four screens, magnified for the audience’s benefit. A simple, yet cheery and extremely catchy tune played by a violin and a cello erupted from nowhere and everywhere at once, and the three men took it as their cue to wave to the masses and thank them for coming. Thirty seconds later, the cheery tune was over (and forever fixated in everyone’s minds) and Maruyama addressed the audience on a microphone. The expertly positioned cameras (which were somehow not really visible for those in the audience) did a close-up on the man’s face, revealing every sweat drop running down his wrinkled forehead, and every bit of greying hair that sprouted from his balding scalp. Tomohiro Maruyama was not even on his forties, but he was the kind of man who worried too much and got stressed too easily, thus making him the perfect poster-person for premature aging. It was not to say that his worries were for nothing (particularly concerning the World Tournament), but he did have a tendency to exaggerate things a little.

Maruyama took the microphone and began his opening speech. Thankfully for him, his voice sounded appropriately firm and secure, as to be expected from someone in his position. It did a very good job of hiding his insecurities. “Welcome everyone to the third Japanese MaruMonzterz Tournament! I am pleased to say that, this year, we reached one hundred participants in just three days. Because of this success, we are considering expanding the number of participants for the next tournament.” In the audience, Kinomoto smiled. She made a promise to herself and Flamelus to do everything she could to participate in 2015. “Other than that, this tournament is special for one other reason: 2014 is the year of the very first MaruMonzterz World Tournament. The fights here will select the best competitors to represent Japan at the world stage. There is much more at stake now!” The audience cheered. Maruyama turned to the other men beside him. “I am now going to introduce you to the people who will be helping us at every match. We will have a referee,” Maruyama pointed to a short and smartly dressed man to his left, “and a commentator,” he turned to a tall man dressed in bright yellow and orange, “who will help us see what is happening down here. I will let them speak now.”

“Hello everyone!” beamed the Commentator. “I will be commenting on all matches! This is all you will ever see me doing, so feel free to refer to me as Commentator with a capital ‘c’!”

“I am just a referee,” the referee said. His voice sounded quite monotone in comparison to Maruyama’s and the Commentator’s. “You will barely notice my presence, might as well consider me too unimportant to receive a proper capitalised name…”

“And so I declare the Japanese MaruMonzterz Tournament officially open!” Maruyama concluded. “In fifteen minutes we will begin the first fights, so can I please ask all participants from group A to make their way to the second floor. You will receive further instructions once you arrive there. Best of luck to everyone!”

The audience clapped, and ten people got up, following Maruyama’s instructions. As soon as they disappeared from the seating area, Ken finally spotted his two friends and ran towards them, his vivid red bangs spiking in every possible direction (and some impossible directions too).

“Rumiko, Satsuki, I’ve been looking for you for ages!” Ken beamed as a way of greeting. Kinomoto was not happy for being called by her first name, but Ken always refused to ‘downgrade’ their friendship and treat her by surname again. Kinomoto’s payback consisted of making a point of calling Ken by his surname as often as possible. “Where have you been?”

“We should ask you the same thing, Urashima-san,” Kinomoto answered politely, though she was in fact not at all thrilled to see the boisterous child again. She had been having such a good time with Rumiko and Urameshi…

“You had disappeared by the time I got here! What did you want me to do?” Ken asked, exasperated.

“Who is this guy? Is he your friend?” Urameshi asked, looking at Ken with an unnervingly unreadable expression.

“Of course I am! Didn’t you notice the three of us are on first name basis and all that?” Ken answered, turning his full attention towards Urameshi. He leaned closer to the braid boy so that their eyes were level and just a few inches apart, and made his best intimidating face (which was still only effective against Rumiko). “I’m the one who should be asking who you are!”

“I’m someone who helped the friends you left behind earlier on,” Urameshi answered, meeting Ken’s stare with such calmness and self-assurance that even Kinomoto was impressed. “I offered them a ride to the stadium.”

“Oh, great. Is that supposed to make me like you?” Ken asked, trying his best to make his intimidating face even more intimidating, but Urameshi did not lose his cool.

“To tell the truth, I don’t really care if you like me or not. I don’t need other people’s approval to like myself, so I don’t do things just to make others like me,” Urameshi answered with the same calm and composure as before. There was a shadow of a smile playing on his lips. “Though I usually make a point of treating my friends well and not forgetting about them when I’m in a hurry…”

“Do you wanna fight?” Ken asked, ignoring the fact that Urameshi was fifteen centimetres (six inches) taller than him, looked at least a year older, and had come all the way from China because he was just that good. Granted, Ken did not know about the last part, but anyone with reasonable self-preservation instincts would have stopped at the first two.

“Not unless you turn out to be my opponent in the tournament.” Fortunately for Ken, Urameshi was not the trigger-happy kind of person who jumped at the first opportunity to destroy the weak.

“Fine, then I’ll beat you up in the arena!” Ken continued his reckless act. Urameshi’s calm expression did not change, even though most people by now would have at least rolled their eyes at Ken’s childishness.

“Urameshi-san has a True Spirit, and he is so strong he was specially invited to the tournament,” Kinomoto gladly informed Ken about who he was dealing with. Ken’s eyes grew to twice their size and he stared at Urameshi with his jaw figuratively touching the ground.

“You? With that girly hair? Really?” Ken said, struggling to picture the boy in front of him as a strong opponent.

“Yes. The JMA invited me because they said I could find my equal here…” Urameshi answered. Right on cue, the four screens began showing footage of the previous tournament. A scary-looking boy whose eyes were covered by thick black fringe and his True Spirit appeared in most of the footage destroying their opponents in one single hit.

“Koichi Yuy.” Rumiko recognised the scary boy from the time she looked at MaruMonzterz fights on the internet. Yuy’s name had been fixated in her mind because he reminded her of Ichigo Tokita (or most likely would have been Ichigo Tokita if it was not for the fringe covering his eyes).

“Do you know him, Higurashi-san?” Urameshi asked Rumiko.

“I just saw his fights on the internet once. He is really strong.” Rumiko was actually pretty scared of him. Her feelings only became more intense as all of Yuy’s two-seconds long fights were shown to the audience. His opponents never stood a chance.

‘I can’t wait to fight him!’ Fenki beamed in Rumiko’s mind. The girl was not expecting his sudden appearance, but thankfully this only led to her jumping in her chair rather than a full-blown panic attack.

‘I don’t want to ever get near him.’ Rumiko hurriedly told her True Spirit.

‘Don’t worry, Master! That’s what you got me for! We’ll show that guy who’s the real hero!’

‘I’m actually fine not being a hero.’

Rumiko’s heroic argument with her True Spirit would have carried on longer if the Commentator had not chosen that exact moment to do his job. “Hello, everyone! We are now ready for this tournament’s very first fight! Please welcome last year’s champion Koichi Yuy and his opponent Setsuko Takenaka!” the Commentator’s voice echoed in the stadium with such volume and vitality it was as if he was shouting right next to everyone’s ears. The effect was not the most pleasant, but at least he got his point across very well. The audience was at first too stunned by his loudness to react, but it did not take them long to start applauding. Yuy and a tall girl with a dejected face came down to the arena and took their places in the platforms. Just like in the previous footage Rumiko had seen of him, Yuy stood to the left of the launch triangle.

And just like in all footage Rumiko had seen of him, Koichi Yuy obliterated his opponent as soon as the fight started. Setsuko Takenaka did not seem surprised by her instantaneous defeat, and Yuy’s face remained void of any feelings throughout his time in the arena.

“Yeah, I think I found my equal,” Urameshi said, leaning on his seat with his arms crossed over his chest and a grin that seemed to say that the party had just started.