Conscious, Conscientious

The dressing room was much larger than Deon and Lammy had assumed from the hallway. The luxury of leather couches and fully-stocked drink fridges met them as the group followed Otogi’s bodyguards inside, and a mirror spanned the length of the back wall with an accompanying countertop. It stretched wide enough for a dozen people to use at once, and with ample space.

But the team’s attention barely had time to take in these amenities, or to notice the mini padded floor, punching bag, and weight station at the far left of the space. The instantaneous briskness, along with the abrupt lack of color, immediately demanded their focus instead.

It all drew their eyes to its origin in one central spot.

Kotono sat before the mirror, the sharp lighting around it fighting for prominence against the gray aura oozing from her body. With her back to the team, she was like a phantom. Lammy stood at just the right angle to spot her face in the mirror: one of her naturally rosy eyes was black with a white pupil, and the other was the inverse.

It was just like when she’d transformed after Hiroko vanished.

Lammy had to look away. Of everything he’d witnessed in Azvaylen, those eyes had haunted him most.

Deon, on the other hand, was spared from the view. Three of Volona’s assistants stood closely around Kotono, tweaking curls in her hair and blotting her face with a brush. And unfortunately for Deon, Volona stood by overlooking it all.

“All right, take a second,” she permitted, hugging her unusually poofy fur coat tighter.

While the Special Team exchanged uneasy glances, the assistants desperately broke away from Kotono and joined them at the front of the room, their jaws vibrating and their joints stiff.

“I said a second,” Volona already called.

The assistants whimpered, bracing themselves for probably the tenth time.

“Hold up. Guys, spread your arms out,” Deon told them.

Given he was their client as well, they obeyed, but with confusion.

Deon imagined thick coats onto each of them, mentally adjusting each to fit their sizes.

“Mr. Stutter, you’re a gem!” one of them breathed, and the rest nodded as their shaking died down. They turned to continue their work.

Deon crossed his arms. “Well hey, it’s what I do.”

He evened out when he caught Skrili’s glare.

“That’s great and all,” she hushed, “but that’s just a bandage for the real problem here.”

Phillip nodded, stepping close. The team huddled into a circle.

“We can’t make Kotono fight like this,” he affirmed lowly. “We don’t know what could happen.”

Otogi studied their intensity. “I believe you guys—you’d know more than me at this point,” he said. “But the thing is, Truj already has his master plan. You were there for the briefings on this team. Truj wants us out there with the big guns.”

Everyone fell quiet. They’d drilled Mr. Truj’s team techniques for days now, all the way down to the slightest second.

“Let’s talk to him,” Skrili decided. “Kotono’s more important than this fight. Maybe—”

“Well don’t just stand there; get up to the mirrors, loves!” Volona’s cutting voice beckoned. “We have a lot of work to do, and not much time before the event! You’re not even in your outfits!”

“But—HEY!”

Before Deon could voice his refusal, a few more assistants emerged from behind and began ushering them all into position.

“Mr. Otogi sir, your personal crew is right this way…”

“Oh, but…uh…”

Lammy looked on helplessly as the fighters were swept away by the apparently superior urgency of fashion.

He tightened his fists.

Well…I guess it’s up to me, he accepted. Don’t worry guys, I’ll—

Someone grabbed his hand.

He stumbled after them.

“You too, my boy!” laughed Volona. “If you’ll be seen with us, you’ll be seen looking as marvelous as us!”

HUH?!?!

He found himself sat in a rotating chair before the mirror, and two assistants immediately began brushing his hair and blotting his face before he could even see himself in the reflection.

“How are we supposed to do this without seeing color…?” the artists whispered amongst each other.

Deon’s fate was just the same as Lammy’s, though he didn’t surrender quite as easily.

“Please don’t wiggle around, Mr. Stutter,” one assistant requested.

“I look fine! We’re gonna be beating each other up anyways; who cares?!” he bellowed.

“It’ll only be a few minutes—”

“Oh, spend extra time on Stutter!” Volona called over. “That forest boy needs it!”

“ARE YOU CALLING ME UGLY?!” retorted Deon. He shifted his focus to the assistant caking him in makeup, realizing she wore one of his imagined jackets.

That was just the leverage he needed.

Deon calmed himself. “Hey listen, the thing is, we have a situation on our hands,” he explained coolly. “Think you could return the favor and let me sneak away?”

“Sorry…Volona will make me do cleanup alone if she gets mad…” she muttered apologetically.

“Betrayal! I thought I was a gem!!”

The powder and its bitter scent overcame his senses as Volona’s team had their way with his image.

~

“Blegh…”

Deon could still taste whatever they’d patted all over his face as he and his teammates followed the guards down the long hall.

Even after everyone had been properly prettied up, there was no time to spare: the agency had immediately ushered them over to the workout area for warm-up exercises.

They’d assumed that would have been their chance to talk, but Mr. Truj still wasn’t even present—his assistant trainers led the exercises instead.

At the very least, now Deon was loose and charged. All the tense energy spread throughout his body, pumping him with adrenaline to cancel out his nerves.

The closer they inched towards the stadium, the more the muffled bass of the hype music vibrated the floor. He could feel the energy of the thousands awaiting his team’s arrival.

By far, this was about to be the biggest moment of his young career.

But that wasn’t the case for Skrili, and he could tell by her quiet composedness. She walked just before him, her new outfit a grandiose reinterpretation of her usual fighting clothes. Her blue and black sleeveless shirt had sheen to it, and it loosely hugged her form to highlight her frame just right—exactly like Hiroko’s outfits.

Deon hadn’t realized how worn down her old shoes were until he observed the sleek black ones she sported now, just as thin and subtle but undoubtedly several times the price.

He stepped beside Skrili, her smoky makeup luring his eyes to hers.

“Dang…you look gorgeous.”

“We can’t talk like that here,” Skrili reminded him in a whisper. “But…thanks. I could do without the glitter and fake freckles, though…”

When she didn’t bother bringing up Deon’s outfit, he took no offense. In fact, it only affirmed his annoyance: while Skrili’s transformation simply emphasized her style, Volona had turned Deon into something else entirely.

He looked down at the sleeveless, swishy green jacket over his new black turtleneck and sulked. These pants were somehow tighter than his underwear, and his combed-over hair was matted to his head.

“Alright pros, we’ll need you to file into the order we ran over earlier,” announced the official towards the front.

Deon refocused on the matter at hand. They were nearing the end of the hall, where a massive, closed bronze gate awaited them. The music had grown louder, and now Deon could hear the bustling audience.

Guided by an agency assistant and a worker with an Earth emblem on their clothes, Team Hiroko began reorganizing into a single-file line.

“See you out there,” Skrili whispered before moving towards the front.

Deon nodded. He moved back, recalling that he was second-to-last just before Otogi.

But on his way, he felt a familiar chill.

Kotono.

If we can’t get through to Mr. Truj…maybe I can at least comfort her.

“Hey,” he started, turning.

He’d expected to find her in a fog of gray energy once more. But instead, he bumped shoulders with a very colorful, normal Kotono.

She paused with a start, the skirt of her illustrious short red dress shivering elegantly at the sudden motion.

“Whoa, careful buddy,” warned her bodyguard, wrapping a massive yet delicate arm around her.

But Deon hardly noticed, frozen on the fact that his star teammate watched him without a hint of darkness around her anymore.

No…he looked closer.

Kotono’s ruby red eyes flickered black and white for a moment.

She’s trying to hold it all in.

“Hey Kotono, uh…are you sure…” Deon attempted.

“Let’s have a great fight, Deon. I can’t wait!”

“Uh…y—yeah. But…”

She sped along before he could recover his point. His eyes happened to catch something in her light steps: slight puffs of gray releasing from her feet.

The bodyguard looked back to him, patience in his smile, and Deon finally realized who it was: the same one who winked at them back in Volona’s offices.

The same one he’d privately spoken with.

I blew it…I thought we’d have more time for my plan, Deon thought. I didn’t even get to tell everyone what it was. Guess we’re gonna have to hope for the best for now.

Good luck, Kotono. I’m sorry.

“NORMAL COUNTRY, ARE. YOU. READY?!!”

Beyond the thick walls, the stadium exploded into cheers, contrasting the doubt Deon felt to such an extreme that he let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

Well…here we go.

Team Hiroko stopped just before the gate. A wide monitor was propped just to the side of it, broadcasting the unfolding event for them to see. The screen appeared solid, unlike the magical Fantasy Country ones, but it was equally clear as it displayed the vacant fighting platform.

“Wwwwwelcome to the first ever Special League Event!! We’re proud to kick off this historic new league right here in Hynes Stadium!”

The man’s voice was just as deep and pounding as the music from earlier. He spoke unnaturally, dragging out key words and leaning into his timbre for the utmost emphasis.

“Meh. It’s no Akihabara Arena but…whatever,” a monotone woman added.

“That's our guest commentator for the weekend, Lune Loom: multi-time Horror Country champion! And I’ll be your host—your resident Hynes Stadium announcer, Howard Buck!”

The lights dimmed on everything besides a spotlight on the fighting platform.

“Now: geeeeeeeet ready to see new teams of five all-star pros face off in a bolder fighting format than the League has ever known!”

“Yeah. There’s uh…no telling what could happen…or something.”

“Let’s meet the first Special Team members of the night!” exclaimed Howard. “Please make a round of applause for…BART BOWLER!!!”

The commentator’s voice echoed, and the lights flashed in a frenzy, as the muscular pro emerged from the opposite gate and jogged up to the platform, showered in cheers.

“He’s an Extravert type. His power grows when he’s around a lot of people. Like right now. Next.”

The resident announcer hesitated at Lune’s colorless commentary.

“Uh…that’s right, Lune! NEXT: give a warm welcome to his brother…MARTIN BOWLER!!”

The applause was just as strong for Bart’s icy-haired sibling. He powered his way over and they bumped chests atop the Earth logo of the platform.

“Same thing. Next.”

The introductions continued on in the same manner, and Deon and the others watched two more team members join the platform: a Mastermind named Medea Murfwater and a Predictor named Nel Goodin.

“Aaaaaand finally, we have the young hotshot: Aidan Caffrin!”

While the cheers were nearly as loud as those for the Bowler Brothers, Deon’s eyebrows rose. What appeared was not a pro fighter.

It was a box.

Carted in with the help of four assistants, a large black box rolled its way down the aisle. A couple of nearby workers had to jump in to help them haul it up the ramp, until they wheeled it successfully over to its team.

Man…they weren’t kidding, Deon recalled from their briefing on this bunch.

“Unlike the Bowler Brothers, who…” Lune began, obviously reading off of a prompt. But she took a long sigh and gave up again. “Eh, basically he’s an Introvert. Gets stronger from being alone. I can relate…”

“No surprise there,” mumbled Howard across the stadium. “ANYWAY, here they are! So make some noise for your first Special Team: Team Socio!!”

Deon straightened himself out, though he knew there was nothing he could do to save his appearance. He felt Otogi pat him on the shoulder from behind.

“Let’s get it, man.”

“Heck yeah,” uttered Deon.

Unfortunately, there would be no time for his new pre-fight encouragement ritual with Skrili. Though judging by her blush from last time against Skip, he had a feeling she didn’t mind.

And with Lammy having been ushered in separately with the coaches, he’d have to wait to see the belief in his cousin’s eyes—the ultimate fuel for his heart.

But nonetheless, this was it.

“Aaaaaand now, for their challengers…”

Unsurprisingly, Kotono prompted the most rabid cheers yet, eclipsing both of the Bowler Brothers combined when she made her soft appearance. Skrili found almost equal adoration from her newfound fanbase as she joined Kotono across from Team Socio.

Phillip turned and nodded at Deon before the Hynes guides signaled him forward. Likely due to his connection to the missing Pang, he entered the stadium to a hearty applause.

“DEON STUTTER!!”

Perhaps it was everything else going on in his mind dulling his senses, but as Deon stepped into the punishing spotlight of the stadium, the cheers pretty much died out.

Someone coughed in the distance.

Everything went numb. He reached the stage, then his teammates, before he’d even processed doing so. The pressure of a thousand stares forced him only to look forward.

But as a result, all he could see were his opponents across from them.

The Bowler Brothers snickered at whatever stunned expression he wore.

“This is literally his first pro fight…?” learned Lune’s voice from above. “He got certified with Skrili Kay, though. Interesting…He must be special if he’s already here. I’m curious what his secret is.”

“Yeah! Well-said!” Howard bounced off, quick to reward her brief inkling of enthusiasm. “Anything else to add? Like…maybe the rest of your line…?”

“Nope.”

Deon blinked, the commentator’s endorsement shaking him free. His vision expanded and the stadium all around was alive again, the pressure transforming into the vibrancy he felt back in Gloat Stadium.

All eyes were on him.

All waiting to see what he had to offer.

Now, Deon couldn’t help but smile.

This is everything I dreamed. It’s really happening.

Let’s freaking do this.

“Aaaaaaand finally…You know him. You love him…”

Thunder spread in a crescendo all around the stadium as people rumbled their feet against the floor.

“OTOGI!!”

The pounding applause and lightshow—which even matched Otogi’s outfit—only electrified Deon further while his fifth teammate joined the stage.

Deon exchanged fist bumps with his teammates, and when he got to Skrili, they kept them in place for a moment.

Skrili smirked with tenacity. She could see the fire returning to him.

Deon turned back to Team Socio and pointed directly at the Bowler Brothers, whose snickering faded now that their source of amusement was gone.

“Hey. Hope you’re ready to get your mind blown,” he warned.

The room filled with ‘ooooh’s’, and Deon realized his voice was being amplified out into the audience.

“Sparks are already, uh, flying…I guess…” Lune tried.

“TRUE! And so it’s my pleasure to announce the team that’s here to honor Hiroko Hamasaki…the team whose proceeds go towards finding fellow pro Pang Pereo…it’s…TEAM HIROKO!!!”

Deon’s view happened to fall on Kotono in that moment.

That was when he realized overwhelming noise was no different than absolute silence.

She stood there, smiling and waving. She was the sun around which the room orbited. Kotono was drowning in the love of thousands—and yet to Deon, she looked entirely alone.

Forgotten.

“Welcome. I am so happy to see you.”

Deon refocused. He thought he might have heard the commentators announce Credo Covewalk, but he’d been too stimulated to notice the Credo had already made his way to the center of the platform.

His white coat reflecting the spotlight, the Head of the League took a moment to soak in the audience and let them air out their excitement. They calmed to a respectful hush.

“Fans, friends, it is finally time for the first Special League Event. We’ve been working towards this for a long time now,” he began. Despite quite the different audience, his words were just the same as when he’d spoken to Team Hiroko alone: personal, like he’d known them for decades. “And thanks to you, we’re about to take consciousness fighting to a whole new level. What do you say, shall we begin?”

He paused for applause once more. A cheer brewing for Otogi was eventually quelled.

Credo nodded. He faced Team Hiroko, then Team Socio, and greeted both.

“You all understand how this works—I hope,” he started, winning a few laughs, “but how about we review for the sake of all our guests?”

A projection of animated diagrams appeared high above Deon and the others for the crowd to see. Without magic here, Deon figured it was the work of Imaginers or Illusionists.

“Just like the traditional League, each team will put forward two members to fight at a time,” Credo shared. “But the first team to defeat three of their opponents will be declared the winner.”

The colors from the projection shifted on all the fighters’ faces.

“Once a team member is deemed defeated by ringout, knockout, or injury, their coach must send in another fighter of their choice. And they’ll have to do it fast: there will be no pause for transition,” explained Credo. “Now, for the fun part…the Special Calls.”

Deon jogged his memory. Lammy had memorized the aspects of the next detail immediately, but it took him several tests to get Deon to remember them all.

“Each coach is granted one Special Call they can make at any point of the fight,” Credo said. “They have four options at their disposal:”

“TAG: swapping out one active team member for an inactive one, as long as the inactive fighter has not already been defeated.”

“SUMMON: calling on the consciousness abilities of one inactive fighter. This allows the inactive fighter to use their powers against their opponent from the sidelines, and expires when a team member on either side is defeated.”

“TIMEOUT: this grants both teams a two-minute-break to strategize with their coaches.”

“And—this was my idea—TEAM SPECIAL: When a coach calls this, all undefeated members may join the platform to unleash a single, joint team attack. But there are a couple catches: the opposing team is allowed to add a third member to try and defend from the attack. Plus, the Team Special must defeat all active opponents. If it fails, the attacking team forfeits the fight.”

Deon nodded to himself. He’d managed to remember at least most of that.

But based on Mr. Truj’s gameplan, he knew only one Special Call would really matter tonight.

“And with that,” Credo concluded, “I say we get this fight started.”

He once again faced the two teams, the room practically shaking with anticipation.

“It’s time to see who,” he said, his eyes happening to land on Team Hiroko, “has what it takes to do something world changing.”

Deon’s heart skipped. Those words sucked him away from this dream of dazzling lights and fans for a moment. They placed him squarely back into reality: where the godlike powers of Wei and that cloaked woman loomed. Where he saw his friend perish protecting the ones she loved.

Where a friend still desperately awaited rescue.

Deon could tell it was no accident Credo’s eyes fell on them in that instant. He had transcended the façade to challenge them alone.

It was clear. This league served as more than a disguise: it was a test.

We have what it takes, Deon silently promised. We’ll prove it right now.

Let’s do this.