After a brief moment of confusion, Torta found himself laying on a large, yellow cloud. Shaking his head, he saw Regal across from him, equally confused by the situation. The sky was purple, and overhead there was a massive planet, the likes of which he’d never seen. All around were floating puffs of energy, like little clouds themselves, all happily shuffling along the path. Following them, he found the path to lead to the steps of a large, ornate building with a welcome sign on top. A red ogre held a megaphone and helped to keep the line orderly. “Where are we?” Torta asked.
“Well, the planet exploded,” said Regal, “so I would wager the afterlife. Look.” Regal pointed above her head to the halo she now possessed. “You have one, too.
Torta stared at Regal’s halo, and then reached for his own, wanting to see if it could be touched. “Wow, really?! This is so…well, I guess I never expected the afterlife to be like anything specific, but still!”
“At least I got to beat you before we ended up here.”
Torta scoffed. “You mean you got to lose to me before you got here.”
“I was clearly winning that fight!”
“I kindly disagree!”
The two stared each other down with the most intense fervor of their lives, even in death. “Excuse me?” asked the ogre queueing the line. “You two should really get in line. You’re special visitors in this place.”
“Special how?” asked Torta. “I died the same as anybody else.”
“You’ve been requested for an audience with the Kaio,” the ogre explained. “So please get in line, move forward to your official judgment, and then you can proceed.”
Torta leaned over to Regal. “Should I know who that is?”
“Don’t ask me,” she said. “If we’re special visitors, why do we have to get in line?”
“Well, the great King Hades isn’t going to skip past judgment, and the big guy upstairs is a stickler for the rules. It would be unfair for you to cut in line ahead of the other souls. That said, the longer you take to get in line, the longer your wait will be. Please get in line and move forward to your judgment.”
Torta looked at the line, a few thousand souls deep. “Ok, fine. It’s not like I have anywhere else to be anymore.” He got up and pulled Regal with him to the back of the line.
“This’ll take forever,” grumbled Regal.
“Hey, just enjoy the time to relax. Besides, it could be faster than it looks.”
Two hours passed before the pair of heroes finally made it in front of the great King Hades, Lord of the Other World. The imposing ogre stared down at the mortals below him. “I’ve been expecting your arrival,” he said, glancing at the pages in his book. “Seems you two have been quite the heroes in your time. Your final battles are most impressive, as well. No wonder the Kaio have summoned you. Well, I’d send you off to Heaven right about now otherwise, but please go through the side door.” Hades pointed to the exit at the side of the chamber. “You’re keeping deities waiting.”
“Thanks for your kind words,” said Torta, putting his hands together and bowing.
“What are you doing?” asked Regal as she turned to leave.
Torta scratched his head. “I didn’t want to seem rude.” He followed Regal to the side door.
“Hades has a lot of souls to judge. You’re being rude just by being slow.”
Outside the chamber, along the side path of the building, the two heroes found a group of six waiting for them. Four wore similar garb, bearing the mark of the Kaio; they possessed antennae and sported colorful hair. Standing with them were two other mortals, presumably summoned like Torta and Regal. One was short, with a slim build, and a simple body plan, while the other was tall, with teal skin and orange hair. One of the Kaio, tall and purple, noticed the two Earthlings and smiled at their arrival. “There you are!” she said. “I’ve been waiting so long to meet you!”
“Hi,” said Torta. “I’m Torta of Earth. This is my friend, Regal.”
“We know who you are,” said another Kaio, short and yellow. “We hand-selected you, and we’re low on time.”
“What’s this all about?” asked Regal.
“Allow me to introduce ourselves,” said the purple Kaio. “We are the Kaio, charged with managing life in the four quadrants of the universe. I am the North Kaio. This fellow here,” she indicated the yellow man, “is the East Kaio. Him there,” she indicated the stout pink man, “is the West Kaio. And she,” she indicated the muscular green woman, “is the South Kaio. We have brought you here to meet your teammates in the upcoming Tournament of the Ages!”
“The tournament is a huge deal,” said the East Kaio. “Basically, the demons of the Demon Realm have been up to no good since the beginning of time. Our wars are nearly constant, and despite our other divine prerogatives, we spend a lot of our time dealing with them. Long ago, they made deals with the devils of Hell to recruit the souls and bodies of powerful dead warriors for their cause. We do everything we can to stop them, but it is difficult. One of the many truces in our wars over the eons is that, once every thousand or so Earth years, we allow them to recruit four warriors to compete against four of our warriors. It is a metaphorical battle of good and evil.”
“Does anything happen if we lose?” asked Torta.
“Not specifically, no,” said the North Kaio. “It’s run like a gentlemen’s bet, so no one gets wrapped up in extra stakes. But we will punish you if you lose. It’s a huge bad omen; our team losing is like saying evil will triumph over the next millennia. We can’t have that, can we?”
“No,” said Torta, with a straight face. Regal sighed.
“The tournament is…hold on,” said the North Kaio. “Ugh. Easty, you handle this.” She turned away and began mumbling. “No, not these! I need them…”
“The tournament is just about one Earth year away,” said the East Kaio. “The South and West have been training their recruits for centuries now, but me and the North have not had any worthwhile trainees. Until you two up and died. So we gotta hustle, and then we can win this, and you two can do whatever you want with your afterlives.”
“Indeed,” said the North Kaio, turning back to the group. “Torta, you’re with me, as the native Earthling of the North. I’ll whip you into shape.”
“Regal of Eastern Namek, you’re with me,” said the East Kaio.
“Wait, what about our teammates?” asked Torta.
“That’s your question?” asked Regal.
“Well, they said they’d introduce us.”
“Sorry,” said the South Kaio. “This is Omoi, of the planet Hera.” Omoi waved at Torta like a movie star.
“This is Tuna,” said the West Kaio. Tuna spun around and did a dramatic pose, clearly very satisfied with herself.
“So, there you have it,” said the North Kaio. “Come along now, Torta. Let’s get training!”
“Ok!” said Torta, happily following the North Kaio.
“You’re just going along with this?” asked Regal.
“What? I’ll figure out more of what’s going on with her, and she offered to train me. That’s a pretty great start to this afterlife thing for me. I don’t have to give up, even in death!”
Regal was taken aback, and then smiled. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll go with you, East Kaio.”
The East Kaio grunted. “Not like you had a choice.” He led Regal towards her new path. She took a look back at Torta, and didn’t doubt that he wasn’t happy about being parted again, with their tie to break. But time was no longer an issue.
The North Kaio led Torta to the edge of a vast river, cutting through the cloud bank. “This here is the impassable Stick River!” she announced. Torta whistled; despite being called a river, the other shore was impossible to see, making it appear an ocean. “Normally, I’d scare off half-hearted trainees by telling them to swim across this thing to get to my planet, but I know a little exercise like this won’t bother you none. Not at your level.”
“Cool,” said Torta. “So, you have a way to get straight home? So we can get cracking right away?”
“Hm? Oh, no, not at all. I had to swim to get here today. I just meant it won’t bother you to start your training now, by swimming us both back. It still takes me a couple weeks, in these old bones, so I expect you’ll have me soaking in my tub by the evening. Chop-chop!”
Torta sighed in exasperation, though he was not really disappointed. Looking down at the glistening, possibly haunted water of Stick River, and he felt exhilarated to be able to start his training so soon. He tied his gi top around his waist and knelt down. “Get on board, milady,” he offered. The North Kaio stepped onto his back and stood straight and proud, as if his back were the floor. Situated like this, Torta dove into the water and started swimming at full speed.
The two arrived at the other side of Stick River by evening, or what felt like it to Torta. On the other shore was a small bank of clouds, and then nothing but open sky forever. He looked around a moment, confused. “So, you’re telling me you can’t see the future?” he asked.
“Not at all,” said the North Kaio, exasperated. “How many times must I tell you?”
“Well, you had to leave two weeks ahead of my death to meet me there, right?”
“I had a rough idea of when the big battle would be. I’ve seen these wars a thousand times before. I was waiting there for a while, and I didn’t know you would die. But I have to say, it really helps me that you did.”
Torta sighed. “My friends wouldn’t agree with you.”
“Oh, I have a feeling they’ll manage through their grief. Anyway, let’s get going.”
“Where? There’s nothing here.”
“Up there.” She pointed upwards, and Torta saw a small planet, barely bigger than a hillside. The Kaio jumped towards it, and once she got close enough, spun around and landed her feet on its surface.
“Cool!” Torta crouched down and jumped up as well. Once within range, he felt the gravity of the planet pulling on him, and estimated it to be around 15G. With a turn, he landed elegantly on the grass and started stretching. “So, what’s first? Now that I’ve done some swimming?”
“Eager much? Come, sit, have some tea.” The Kaio walked to the other side of her planet, so Torta followed. On the other side, he saw a small, dome-shaped house, with a driveway and a classic car. A cat popped its head out of the window and mewed. “Oh, missed me, Coffee? He’s a good boy!” She turned to Torta. “You, sit out here, and I’ll bring you some tea.”
Torta sat down. After swimming all that way, across what felt like a much greater distance than the Earth was round, he realized that his body worked differently in the Other World. Mainly, that he wasn’t getting tired, or hungry. Looking down at his hands, feeling the sensation of the gravity, he couldn’t help feeling alive. But that was impossible.
The Kaio returned with a tray, two cups, a teapot, and some cream and sugar. “Ok, then, we’ll have a drink and a chat. I have been eyeing you for some time, hoping you’d beat back those wicked armies, and yeah, rooting for your demise a bit. I have a decent sense about what kind of man I’m asking to fight for me, and I know I don’t have a lot of wiggle room to be picky either way right now. But I want to know,” she set the tray down and sat, “who do you think you are?” She poured into their cups, the aromatic tea releasing its fragrance immediately.
“Well,” Torta thought a moment, “for a while, I didn’t know. I mean, it never occurred to me to think about it. Traveling with Dragon made me reflect on what it is I have, that keeps me in the spotlight, on top of the pack. I felt really lowdown, a bottom rung fool, just training to see how good I can get. But as I sat in the cockpit, holding the remaining Devil’s Tincture, weighing my options, I realized that being a fool was my greatest strength. Sitting there, seemed to me that I could join the fight a few days early or lose anyway, you know? I said I wanted it to be Dragon who got to drink the tincture, and in terms of him getting his big fight, I do wish that. But it couldn’t have been Dragon at that moment, if our situations were reversed. He’s too smart, too serious and cautious and just an all-around great guy, to do something so stupid as what I did. He’s the hero of the Saiyans and has a plan to lead them in freedom. All I have is my love of the game, and all I want is to get better, enjoy the ride, and see how many ways I can test myself. That single-minded focus is the sharpest blade around, in a way.”
The Kaio blew on her tea and dropped in a couple sugar cubes. “I see. For better or worse, it’s all fun and games, huh?”
Torta laughed, reaching for the cream. “I guess so. I’ve fought angry, I’ve fought scared. I’ve made that work for me. But I never fight better than when I’m happy, and I was happy at the end.”
“Then I think I found the right man, after all. Ok, I’ll train you.”
Torta sighed in relief. “Wow, I’ve never had to nail an interview before.”
“Indeed. Drink up, and enjoy the taste.” She sipped the tea and sighed in wonder.
Torta took a sip, and was impressed with the flavor. He wasn’t much of a tea drinker, but there was something really relaxing about this brew. He and the Kaio sat and drank their tea in silence a while. The sky above was clear, sitting above the clouds as it did, and the endless expanse of the sky blended with the glittering water of the Stick River. The large planet, which Torta suspected was Heaven, dangled tantalizingly above. Coffee sat in the Kaio’s lap and purred adoringly.
Once they had finished their tea, the Kaio set her cup down and clapped. “Ok, ready to get started?”
“Sure.”
“Let’s see…you could withstand, what, at least three-hundred-fold of your world’s gravity force by now?”
“Probably close to that, but I haven’t been able to check.”
“It’s a decent estimate.” She snapped her fingers, causing four small metal cuffs to appear. They slammed into the ground with a huge thud, bouncing the two up into the air and throwing Coffee into a nearby tree. Torta gulped. “These cuffs, altogether, have three-hundred times your mass. Wear them and swim laps back and forth across Stick River, until you’re making the trip to each shore in an hour.”
Torta was stunned. “That much…that’ll take me forever!”
“Not if you’re as good as I think you are.”
Torta scratched the back of his head. “So, it’s just more strength training? I’m happy to do it, but I guess I was starting to imagine something more…grandiose.”
The Kaio snorted. “If you don’t like it, I’ll go pluck some weak thing from the line of souls and train them.”
Torta grunted and groaned, trying to lift and put on the cuffs. “It’s cool, I wanna see how fast I can break my record.”
The Kaio smiled. “Make it quick, because when you’ve proven yourself to me, I’ll give you something more…grandiose.”
Torta smiled. “Deal!”
One quadrant over, Regal had finally caught sight of the East Kaio’s planet, which she had been flying towards for hours at top speed. She felt the Kaio slap her shoulder and grunt, riding on her back. “There it is, pup,” he said. “Take us in nice and quiet-like.”
Already annoyed with the gruff attitude from her new master, Regal oriented herself for landing, getting a feel for the strangely intense gravity of the tiny planet. “So, this little clump of rock is the whole training area?” she asked.
The Kaio glared at her. “This little clump is a whole world, I’ll have you know. Sit.” He waited a moment, but Regal did not. “Sit!”
Begrudgingly, Regal sat down. “I have agreed to the basic tenet of this arrangement, but I have some serious issues with this deal.”
“I know you do. I can see it in your eyes, every little burning thought. You’re like an inferno of gentle rage in there. That’s why I asked you to sit, so I could do some teaching.”
Regal nodded in gratitude.
“Jeez, these young’uns these days. Anyhow, as a Kaio, I’m one of the people that guardians like your Grand Elder report to, in the grand scheme of things. The world we live in is like a ball with two halves. The top half, here, is the Other World, where spirits and deities dwell. You came from the bottom half, the universe for the living. And yes, just as you suspect, you having a body ain’t no small thing here. The other souls didn’t have them because they didn’t earn them, and don’t need them like you do yours. You have a body so you can train here with me.”
“I see.”
“The Demon Realm is like a little cone below even the universe. There, right now, the Makaio, our evil counterparts, are training your opponents. That deal they got with the devils of Hell gives them access to a vast resource for new soldiers, an army of infinite villains. S’why we do all we can to stop them from doing it most of the time. I know North said nothing happens if you lose, but it would embolden them, make them fight like hell to keep those villains they trained up for the tournament instead of letting us banish their bodies once more. It would tell them they found real keepers, and a reason to break the truce. I guess that’s one way it could play out, anyways.”
Regal contemplated this. “Then I suppose there is a real cause to fight for here.”
“You need a cause? I thought you was all about letting that rage out. Why worry about the details?”
“Because I believe everything in this world has purpose, even if just to be. Anger isn’t a darkness to expunge, it’s a direct connection between your current moment and your morals, a fire ignited by your sense of justice. I want to know what I’m pointing this fire at, and learn to let it explode when it really matters.”
The Kaio grunted. “S’all well and good. Oh, and just so you know, the tournament is going to be a best out of four, one-on-one format. Your opponent will be trying to kill you, and if they destroy your soul here, it can never be recovered. You’ll be erased from history.”
Regal bowed her head in thought. “I see.” Things were beginning to look clearer for her, and she started seeing some virtue in this man’s businesslike attitude. “You know who I’m fighting, don’t you?”
He waved the idea off. “Ah, that don’t matter none right now. I got you here, and I intend to forge you into a real weapon in this year we got. So let’s get started.” He snapped his fingers, and Regal was sitting across from a copy of herself, mirroring her movements. She immediately felt frustrated. “Familiar, huh? But this copy won’t go away just because you hit it enough, and it wants to fight; it don’t want to be your mirror if you don’t let it move. You gotta overcome yourself if you want to learn what I got to show ya.”
Regal was intrigued. She got up and watched herself roll her neck. Some hidden knowledge was hiding on the other side of this battle, and she was determined to get it.
The year passed rather slowly for the two heroes, so unaccustomed to their tireless afterlives. They spent most of their time in training, only stopping for breaks. Torta spent half his year swimming back and forth across the Stick River, only able to relieve the monotony when the Kaio chose to float beside him and chat. Multiple times, she threw poor Coffee into the water so that Torta would save him. Having to spend so much time in that water, he discovered how haunted it really was, and how many vengeful ghosts would attack him if he relaxed for too long. Meanwhile, Regal spent several months getting to know herself through her mirror. At first, she treated it like a rough sparring partner, injuring herself with each reflected punch against her own knuckles, with each reflected kick against her own shins. However, she began to realize how much she didn’t know about how she fought, how she moved, and what it reflected about herself as a person. She stopped fighting sometimes to watch her own movements, to dance, to go through her basic forms, even to talk, so she could watch all the lines on her face, and see all the little quirks of her muscles and skin. Once they had completed their basic training, they each underwent more advanced training in special fighting techniques, and had their Kaio coaches critique and perfect their forms.
Finally, the day had arrived. Torta was sitting on the grass, meditating and focusing on the area around him. The North Kaio hummed, pleased with how much progress he had made. Coffee walked onto his thigh and climbed up to his shoulders, licking his face for attention. Unfortunately, Torta had learned to focus, so there was nothing for Coffee.
A loud alarm went off from inside the house. The Kaio gasped in surprise, fumbling to her feet to turn it off. Once back outside, she said to Torta, “Hey, Sandwich Boy, it’s time to go!”
Torta furrowed his brow, and then slowly opened his eyes. “You mean, it’s finally time, Kaio?” he asked.
“Indeed. I just got word that the Makaio are on their way here, so it’s time for us to gather at the Daikaio’s planet.”
Torta jumped up in excitement. “Yes! Finally! I can’t wait to try out my new move!”
“It will be special. You’re the first person who’s ever been able to master it, even including myself. So, come along; you’re our transport.” She walked over to Torta and then onto his back. After training with her, Torta finally knew how she was able to do this.
He launched himself into the air and flew off to a small planet above Heaven, belonging to the Daikaio. “Yo, Kaio, you ever get nervous about going to see your boss like this?”
“Not at all. I was hand-selected for my job by him, from a large pool of candidates. I’ve never had reason to doubt his confidence in me.”
“Brag.”
The flight was short, taking about two hours. Having to overcome it, Torta realized just how massive a planet Heaven really was. The Daikaio’s planet above was small, larger than the North Kaio’s planet, but still only a thousand feet across. On one side was a large mansion, and on the top side was an ornate fighting hall. Ogres and other warriors who earned their bodies from across Other World were streaming to it, filled with wonder and gossip about the upcoming Tournament of the Ages. “Land us right out front of the venue,” said the Kaio.
Torta landed on the front path, with several ogres glancing at him and whispering about his odds. “So, do we have to sign in or anything?”
“No, but we are meeting the others here.”
Just as she said this, three classic cars, coming from the other cardinal directions, arrived in the air above them. Torta looked to the eastern car and smiled. They landed and parked in the spaces beside the front gate, and their occupants exited. Regal locked eyes with Torta, and the two smiled. “What, where’s your car, North?” asked the West Kaio.
“I had Torta bring me here,” the North Kaio said.
“Using him like a workhorse to the last minute…” the West tut-tutted.
“Oh, shush,” said the North. “You all think you’re ready?”
“I’d say so,” said the South. “Omoi is sharp as a razor, and his body is peerless!”
Omoi flexed his biceps. “I thank you for all your help building this beautiful body, Kaio,” he said.
The South also did a bodybuilding pose. “It’s the greatest virtue one can have!”
“Pish-posh,” said the West. “Tuna here won’t be beaten by anyone, I’m sure of it.”
Tuna joined the South and Omoi with a superhero pose. “Nothing gets by me!” she said. “I am even better equipped to achieve perfect justice!” The West rolled his eyes.
“Well, you better save any more of these claims for after you see Regal in action,” said the East. “She’s a real piece of work.”
“I don’t intend to lose to anyone anymore,” said Regal, looking Torta straight in the eyes.
“Same,” said Torta, unrelenting.
The North slapped his back. “Yes, Sandwich Boy here is gonna win it all!” she said. “Ok, let’s all get inside, now.” She led the way as the Kaio entered the hall.
Torta and Regal approached each other, and Torta hugged Regal. “It’s so good to see you again!” he said. “You look so strong now!”
Regal snorted as she pushed him away. “I always look strong,” she said.
“Oh, look what I just got!” Torta turned around to show off the mark of the Kaio on the back of his gi. “I finally got her seal of approval!”
Regal casually turned to show her Kaio mark. “I got mine months ago.”
Torta was surprised, and then noticed that both Omoi and Tuna had Kaio marks on their clothes. Tuna snickered at Torta. “That figures. She was always holding back, making me reach for stuff. Still, this is so exciting, isn’t it?”
“It is,” said Regal, a bit serious. “The fight I’ve been waiting for.” The fighters entered the hall. There were signs showing them to their waiting area, so they followed.
They arrived at the side of the tournament ring, with the stands around them nearly full and still filling up. The Kaio were waiting for their students, standing in front of eight chairs. On the opposite side of the ring were eight more chairs, and along the middle of the ring, a large skybox looked over the arena. “You’re all here!” said the North. “I’ll now go over the basic rules once again. This is a best of four, one-on-one tournament. We have to win three to win the whole thing. You win by a knockout with a ten-count or a ring-out. You’re disqualified for erasing an opponent’s soul from history, not that I’m worried about any of you doing that. Your opponents should be arriving shortly.”
“Who am I fighting?” asked Torta. Everyone else was shocked.
“You mean you don’t know yet?!” asked Regal.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you yet, did I?” asked the North. “The fights are as follows: Omoi of the South will be fighting against Paprika III; Tuna of the West is fighting against Mixer; Regal of the East is fighting against Malacol,” Torta gasped at the name, and then realized where this was going, “and Torta of the North is fighting against Daikon.”
Torta looked to Regal, who nodded. “My master told me this when he gave me his seal,” she said. “It really helped me keep my head in the game.”
“So, relax and wait for the show!” said the North, taking her seat. The other Kaio took seats, as well, along with Omoi and Tuna. Regal patted Torta on the shoulder before taking hers. Torta kept looking up at the sky, and didn’t break away as he sat down.
A few minutes later, a shadow descended on the arena. In the sky, a large rock appeared, topped with several evil chis. The stadium began to boo and hurl insults at the rock. It descended into the arena and stopped ten feet over the ground. Those riding it jumped down. Four were similar to the Kaio, but with an openly malicious air; one was an overlarge alien with huge muscles; one was medium-height and frail, with pointed ears and horns; and then there were Malacol and Daikon, as imposing as ever in death. They locked eyes with their killers and scowled.
Trumpets began to blare from up above, followed by synthesizer music. The crowd turned their heads up towards the skybox, where a spotlight was pointed at the middle seat. The bass in the music got heavier as the electronic drums picked up, and soon a figure rose from behind the ledge. He was a large, heavyset man with blue skin, dressed like a DJ in a trendy club, working a turntable. The crowd cheered loudly for this DJ, with the Kaio bowing their heads in reverence and the Makaio balking at the showy display. “Greetings, ogres, heroes, and deities!” the man said. “I’m your host, the Daikaio! Can I hear it for the Tournament of the Ages?!”
The crowd cheered loudly.
The Daikaio looked down towards the Makaio side and frowned. The record was scratched as he stopped the music. “Hey, where’s the boss?” the Daikaio asked. “Your boss is supposed to be traveling with you petty generals.”
“He declined to be subjected to your antics,” said one Makaio. “Seeing as how your DJing skills haven’t improved, I don’t blame him.”
“Eh, phooey,” said the Daikaio. He waved his hands, and his clothes became those of the Daikaio, and his DJ setup disappeared. He took his seat. “Anyway, let’s get this farce over with. As you all know, in accordance with the Treaty of the Grand Mariner, we have to participate in a metaphorical battle of good and evil between ourselves and the Demon Realm. Today is the day we have this battle. I will now determine the line-up of the matches using this traditional tool.” He held up an ornate four-sided die. He rolled it several times in a row on a small table before him.
“This is the guy in charge?” asked Regal, exasperated.
“He’s really good,” said the North.
“I like him,” said Torta.
“Ok, we’re ready to start,” the Daikaio announced. “Our order of matches is West, South, East, and North. Kaio and Makaio of the West, please present your fighters so that we may begin!”
The West Kaio and Tuna eagerly got to their feet and walked onto the impressive stone arena. On the other side, a Makaio of the West and the overlarge alien entered the ring, as well. “I, the Kaio of the West,” said the West, his voice booming across the arena, “hereby present the warrior Tuna for this fight!” Tuna posed confidently, and the crowd cheered for her.
The Makaio rolled her eyes. “I, the Makaio of the West,” she said, “hereby present the warrior Mixer for this fight!” Mixer stared Tuna down with quiet, unshakeable focus. The crowd did not like him.
The Daikaio raised a hand, so the Kaio and Makaio exited the ring. Tuna and Mixer walked to the middle of the stage. “Now, begin!” said the Daikaio.
Very swiftly, Mixer rushed Tuna, punching down. Tuna dodged, and Mixer left a large crater in the stage below. Torta gasped at the intimidating and overpowering chi Mixer radiated. Regal was awed, as well; she hadn’t expected anyone but Malacol to make her question her abilities in this tournament. Tuna looked at the crater and laughed.
Mixer kept on the offensive, each strike packed with enough power to level a planet. No matter what he threw at Tuna, though, she was always one step ahead, dodging everything just as the strike was being thrown. Though she was smiling, she was not undaunted, and Torta could see her gaging her abilities compared to Mixer.
“She’s never going to beat him in a contest of strength,” said Torta.
“Perhaps not,” said the West, “but I never counted on that. Tuna can win this fight, I’m sure of it.”
As the fight continued, Tuna remained on the defensive, but she started taking bolder action. With careful blocks, traps, and parries, she was able to redirect Mixer’s attacks at will. She moved in for her blocks before Mixer even threw his attack. Soon, as she moved in closer to proper striking range, she used this predestined knowledge to disrupt his movements before he even made them, completely halting his offensive. Mixer was becoming incredibly frustrated.
“How is she doing that?” asked Torta in wonder.
“It’s her eyes,” said the West. “Her people have incredibly keen eyesight, such that they can catch just about any movement, even if it’s lightyears ahead of their own speed. I trained Tuna to focus that ability on her opponent’s preparation movements. She can read Mixer’s body like she’s reading his mind, making it impossible for her to be caught off-guard.”
“Unless her opponent is overwhelmingly strong,” said Regal. “If Mixer can move fast enough, Tuna won’t be able to do anything about the attacks she can see him making.”
True to this concern, Mixer continued to power up more and more in his anger and frustration. His speed picked up with each second, giving Tuna trouble countering his actions. This forced her to increase her own pressure to keep up. The West started to sweat as he watched Tuna begin struggling against Mixer, to see his attacks slip through her guard. However, she had already driven him to the edge of the arena. After slipping between his legs, she was able to guide one of his devastating punches off course, the momentum overstretching his body above the edge. A well-timed trip was all it took to send Mixer falling out of bounds. The crowd went wild, chanting Tuna’s name. The West sighed in relief. Tuna herself was briefly surprised with her victory, and then flashed a complex pose to her adoring fans. “The winner of the Battle of the West, Tuna!” announced the Daikaio with immense pleasure.
Tuna ran down the steps and gave the West a hug. The other Kaio congratulated her on the victory. “That was amazing!” Torta praised her.
“Thanks!” she said, rubbing the back of her head.
“That was well-fought,” said Regal.
On the other side of the arena, the Makaio were berating Mixer, who stood in silent rage. After a moment, he raised his fist to attack the Makaio, but she held up her own hand, banishing him to Hell once more.
“Let’s give it up one more time for Tuna!” said the Daikaio. The crowd roared for her. “Now, let us move right along to the Battle of the South. Kaio, Makaio, your presentations.”
“Wish me luck,” said Omoi as he and the South Kaio entered the stage. Torta gave him a thumb’s up. Across the arena, another Makaio and the frail man approached.
“I, the Kaio of the South,” said the South, “hereby present the warrior Omoi for this fight!” The crowd cheered, and Omoi flashed them a shining smile.
“I, the Makaio of the South,” said the Makaio, “hereby present the warrior Paprika III for this fight!” The crowd booed, and Paprika glared at them all.
“There’s a real homefield advantage, huh?” asked Torta.
“Only if you care what the crowd thinks,” said the North. “These villains usually don’t.”
The Kaio and Makaio exited the ring. “Now, begin!” called out the Daikaio.
Omoi made the first move, testing Paprika III with a barrage of chi blasts. Paprika III dodged, though not so easily. He charged in at Omoi and attacked with spear hands tipped by razor sharp nails. Omoi laughed haughtily and guarded against this offensive with ease. The crowd chanted Omoi’s name. “I guess I’ll put an end to this now,” said Omoi. With a flash of light at his fingertips, Omoi ensnared Paprika III in a web of purple threads, causing him to fall to the ground in pain.
“What trick is this?” asked Regal. “That’s no mere telekinesis.”
“Not at all,” said the South. “Omoi can use the most vaunted psychic skill of the Hera people, psychic threads. They sap the energy of whoever they tangle up. Perhaps it’s a lowly tactic, but it’s best to ensure complete victory.”
Paprika III continued to struggle in the threads. “Say the word!” yelled the Makaio at the edge of the ring. “Feel the power of this piece of the Makyo Star we rode on!”
With wheezing breath, Paprika III said, “Jambalaya!” His body underwent a massive and sudden change, with his skin darkening, his muscles expanding, and his horns growing. With a simple flex, he snapped Omoi’s psychic threads apart. The crowd was shocked, and Omoi paled. “I’ll tear you apart, pretty boy!”
His strength renewed, Paprika III charged in at Omoi once again. Though Omoi tried using his psychic threads a few more times, they became ineffective against the Makyan warrior. The increase in power was notable, and Omoi wasn’t able to keep up. The crowd was aghast.
“Flex!” called out the South Kaio. “Flex like your life depends on it!”
With a moment of focus, Omoi transformed as well, his muscle mass increasing, his skin turning green, and his hair turning red. This change in power was rather dramatic, and it appeared to even the battle out again. The two went back and forth, trading the initiative and driving each other towards different edges of the arena.
“Oh, no,” said Torta. “This doesn’t look good.”
“You see it, too?” asked Regal.
“What are you talking about?” asked the South. “Omoi will pull through.” Torta and Regal exchanged glances.
It was too late. Just as no one else seemed to, Omoi wasn’t able to see that Paprika III was holding back. With a burst of power, he knocked Omoi into the arena floor. “With the Makyo Star so close by, I’m unbeatable!” Paprika III announced confidently. He brutally assaulted Omoi, beating him into the ground, and finally cracked him across his jaw. Omoi fell unconscious.
“One, two…” the Daikaio began counting ominously. The crowd waited with bated breath. “…seven, eight, nine—”
Omoi began to stir, to much applause. Annoyed with this, Paprika III grabbed him by the leg and tossed him into the ledge in front of the stands. The crowd gasped. Paprika III snickered and cackled in delight, and the four Makaio erupted in cheers. “The winner of the Battle of the South, Paprika III,” the Daikaio announced glumly.
“Omoi!” the South Kaio called out, running over to retrieve him. Paprika III stuck his tongue out at Omoi as he left the arena. The Makaio gave him hearty congratulations.
“I don’t like this,” said the North Kaio. “Being tied up this early, it never feels good. They have momentum.”
Regal scoffed. “It’s one loss,” she said. “We don’t need to worry.” Despite her cool words, she looked nervous about the upcoming fight, her long-awaited rematch with Malacol.
The North Kaio leaned closer to the East Kaio. “She need any more motivation?” she whispered.
“If anything, a perspective shift,” whispered the East.
“I have that, too,” said the North. “Regal, Torta, come here!”
The two warriors turned to the North Kaio. “What is it?” Torta asked.
“There’s something else I haven’t told you yet,” she said. “I wanted you focused on your training for this day, but now that we’re here, I want you fighting in the right mindset. As it happens, for better or worse, you’ll be resurrected at the end of this tournament.”
Torta and Regal were shocked. “What?!” Torta asked. “How?!”
“Your friends made a wish to revive everyone killed by Malacol, among others, on those wonky dragon orb things the Namekians make. I haggled with the dragon to make sure you could participate here today, so the power of the wish will only revive you once your business here is at an end. Once you’re alive, we’ll take you back to the world of the living.”
“So, everyone’s expecting me to come back?” asked Torta. “They did it! They saved everyone! Dying in that fight was worth it after all! Isn’t this great, Regal?”
Regal was still dumbfounded. “I’ll see the Grand Elder again,” she said.
“Right,” said the North Kaio. “Play your cards right, and you’ll get to tell her how you ensured Malacol was vanquished, even in death.”
The East Kaio shook his head. “I can’t believe you, North…” he muttered.
“Now for the next fight,” the Daikaio announced, “it’s the Battle of the East. Kaio, Makaio, your presentations.”
“Come on, Regal,” said the East Kaio. Regal got up, her mood shifting. On the other side of the arena, a Makaio led Malacol on stage. The Demon Queen was staring daggers into Regal. “I, the Kaio of the East, hereby present the warrior Regal for this fight.” The crowd cheered for Regal.
“I, the Makaio of the East,” said the Makaio, “hereby present the warrior Malacol for this fight!” The crowd booed.
The Kaio and Makaio left the arena. Regal took a deep breath. If she was going to live through this fight, she had to put Malacol behind her. “Now, begin!” the Daikaio commanded.
Malacol rushed at Regal without hesitation. “I’ll destroy your soul for sending me here!” she declared. Her strike hit home, but instead of ripping out Regal’s throat, it passed right through her, as if a mirage. Malacol was confused, and barely turned in time to better absorb the force of Regal’s kick. “An afterimage strike, eh? Must have gotten faster than last time, to make even these eyes see things!”
Regal chuckled and then went on the offensive. Just as before, it looked like the two were even in power, and their blows sent shockwaves across the tournament hall. Malacol caught Regal’s arm and threw her into the arena below. She threw a powerful punch to drive Regal further down, but Regal recovered and deflected the blow. She countered with a kick of her own, so Malacol braced for impact. But the kick never landed in her gut; instead, she felt a dropping elbow against the back of her neck.
“Still seeing things?” Regal asked with chilling confidence.
Malacol cursed and turned to fight Regal, not noticing the murmur of the crowd. They traded blows for a moment, and then Regal’s fist passed right through her chest. Before she could react, Malacol was tripped by Regal’s leg sweep from behind. On the ground, Malacol looked up and saw two Regals looking down at her. “What trickery is this?!” Malacol asked. “Isn’t it against the rules to fight two opponents, Daikaio?!”
“I only see one person fighting you,” said the Daikaio.
“What is that?!” asked Torta, awestruck.
“She calls it Samael,” said the East Kaio. “I never did make a name for that technique. She’s taking her soul out of her body so that it forms a kind of incorporeal duplicate. It can’t touch anything, but it has her chi, making them feel the same.”
Torta stared in wonder. “Amazing!” Malacol continued to attack Regal, often hitting air and turning after she’s struck from behind. “But why is Malacol unable to hit either Regal?”
“Because she’s not there when she hits. The Samael is Regal’s soul, meaning she and it are one and the same. She can switch places with it at will.”
“Hold still, you slime!” Malacol commanded, releasing an explosive wave of chi to repel Regal. “I’ll have you know, this little trick won’t fool me forever! I know there’s a weakness to it!”
Regal chuckled again. “Only if the fight lasts that long,” she said.
Malacol charged in, enraged. Just as she was throwing her punch, she could feel it, the little change she had been trying to track in their earlier exchange. At the last minute, she pulled her fist back and whipped her leg to her side, where Regal was moving in, catching her in the ribs. Malacol laughed. “See?! That double is immaterial! Air passes through it as well! Only you engage the physical senses!”
“It’s not enough to win you this fight,” said Regal. She launched an attack, and when she switched places with her Samael, Malacol turned to block her rear. However, she was too slow, and Regal still knocked her back. “I was taking this fight a bit easy at first, saving my strength. You’ll have to put in twice the effort to win this.”
“Silence!!” Malacol roared as she charged back in. True to her word, Malacol was able to see through the Samael a majority of times, and with her angered fervor was even able to defend against a lot of Regal’s own attacks. The crowd was in suspense as they raced back and forth across the battle stage. A few times, Regal tried to trick Malacol into running off the edge, through the Samael, but the Demon Queen was no fool.
The fight dragged on. Malacol’s attacks became sloppy, blinded by rage as she was. Regal began landing more hits, staying as levelheaded as always. Her fight with Malacol was in her past, in her life. This bout in the world of the dead was just a fun show to prove to villains that they’d never win. Unlike before, Regal focused on enjoying the fight as if with any other opponent, and felt liberated, no weight of duty holding her down. After all, she beat Malacol once already; she had nothing left to prove. With a few quick changes between her two forms, Regal managed to throw Malacol out of the ring. The crowd roared in applause.
“The winner of the Battle of the East, Regal!” the Daikaio announced in excitement.
Regal looked down at Malacol and smiled. “You’re still fighting alone,” she said.
Malacol jumped back to her feet. “You little, insolent fool!” she screamed, charging up at Regal.
Before she could get in close, the Daikaio held up a hand, banishing her back to Hell. “We’ll have none of that,” said the Daikaio. “A loss is a loss, right folks?” The crowd cheered. “Let’s hear it again for Regal of the East!” The applause continued.
Regal calmly walked off the battle stage. Torta, Tuna, and Omoi flocked around to congratulate her. “Congrats!” said Torta. “You were awesome! That Samael move is amazing!”
“Thanks,” said Regal. “I owe it to the East Kaio’s tutelage.”
“Oh, nothing doing,” said the East Kaio. “You’re the only one who’s ever been able to use that move. You earned it.”
“How does it feel to know Malacol can’t even beat you in death?” asked Torta.
“Good, I suppose,” said Regal. “But I don’t care about her anymore. I beat her once in life, and that’s all I needed. She does make a good fighter, though.”
“Well, I’ll show you how cool I became, too!” Torta said with confidence.
The North Kaio snickered. “You’re too eager, Sandwich Boy!” she chided.
“Let’s move onto the final round, the Battle of the North!” the Daikaio announced to an adoring crowd. “The Kaio are up by one, so a win here would cement their victory! A loss would create the first tie in a hundred tournaments! Kaio, Makaio, your presentations!”
“Nervous?” Regal asked as Torta and the North Kaio walked onto the arena floor.
“Not at all,” said Torta. “I already proved that hard work can keep up with transformations. Besides, I got a new trick!”
On the other side of the arena, the final Makaio was bringing in Daikon, standing proudly in his Super Saiyan state. He looked strangely calm in the face, but his clever eyes betrayed intense enmity.
“I, the Kaio of the North,” said the North Kaio, “hereby present the warrior Torta for this fight!” Torta waved excitedly, and the crowd went wild for him.
“I, the Makaio of the North,” said the Makaio, “hereby present the warrior Daikon for this fight!” The crowd booed. Daikon didn’t react at all.
The Kaio and Makaio left the arena. Torta took his stance, feeling his blood pumping. Daikon remained standing still. “Now, begin!” the Daikaio announced.
Even with the fight begun, Daikon remained still. Torta watched him as well. The emperor’s casual stance betrayed intense focus and training. Torta wasn’t sure if this was even the same Super Saiyan state he possessed before. The crowd watched in silence a moment. “Heh, you’re good,” said Torta.
Daikon twitched. “I’m the best!” he said. He disappeared, and Torta blocked his attack as it landed. “I’ll never lose to some backwater pup again!”
Torta laughed. “You have gotten fast!” With a quick flourish, Torta landed a powerful barrage against Daikon, knocking him back. “But you have to know Super Saiyan’s not enough to take me on!”
Daikon rolled his neck. “Who said this was Super Saiyan?” He charged in again, and once more fought at a lower level than Torta expected. However, the strikes began to increase in power, his movements increased in speed. Daikon continually increased the pressure, until finally sparks of lightning began to follow his aura. He was even stronger than before, with no flashy transition between forms. “It still takes a second to switch over, but I can remain in my Super Saiyan 2 state indefinitely, just like the original form! I have total control of this power!”
Torta was slammed into the floor, the wind knocked out of his lungs. He coughed. “Now we’re talking.” He jumped out of the crater and went in for the attack, going all out. Now facing the opponent he really wanted to fight, Torta had no need to go slow. Just as his body didn’t tire in the afterlife, he figured Daikon also didn’t have the same stamina draining issues, especially with his increased mastery of the form.
“Too little, too late!” Daikon yelled, blocking all of Torta’s attacks. He grabbed Torta’s arm and slammed him in the torso, then slammed him repeatedly against the ground. Daikon laughed in ecstasy, and the crowd was worried.
Regal watched in fear, knowing that Daikon would destroy Torta’s soul in this fight. “Don’t worry,” said the North Kaio, putting a hand on Regal’s shoulder. “Sandwich Boy is just being playful.”
On the last slam into the ground, Torta did not hit the arena floor. Instead, a ring of light appeared below him, and when he hit the space within the ring, he was bounced up into the air and out of Daikon’s grip. Two more rings appeared, one in front of and one behind Torta. He kicked off of the ring behind him and shot through the ring before him. When he passed through the second ring, his body accelerated at an astonishing and unnatural rate, propelling him like a missile into Daikon and slamming him into the floor.
Daikon got up, hurt and angry. Torta stood before him, a set of rings floating in front of him. “I see you’ve also been taught some new trick,” said Daikon. “Those rings, they have a distinct front and back? Looks like they increase the force of your movements.”
Torta laughed. “You always were quick on the uptake,” he said.
“What’s going on?” asked Regal. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“They’re space warping micro-tunnels,” said the North Kaio. “By concentrating his own chi as it radiates into the space around him, Sandwich Boy can compress that space into tunnels that greatly accelerate anything that passes through them. It’s a similar concept as warp drives in sci-fi shows. But I let him rename the technique.”
“You’ll never beat my Onion Rings!” Torta announced. The crowd snickered and laughed.
Daikon wiped the blood from his nose. “I don’t care about some poor man’s crutch,” he said. “I haven’t shown you all the power I now possess. Some little trinket isn’t going to do away with this power!” Roaring in anger, Daikon powered up to the max, demonstrating just how much more power he was able to pull out of the second Super Saiyan form. Torta shuddered. Daikon moved in and attacked, hitting Torta faster than he could see. The Saiyan emperor continued his assault, thrashing Torta across the stage. He finally kicked Torta away for a ring-out, but Torta bounced himself in with an Onion Ring. Daikon snorted. “You want me to destroy your soul?”
“Me losing won’t let either of us get what we want, right?” Torta asked. He took a deep breath, and created a few more rings. “Sorry for starting you off with a small order. Here’s the medium.”
Regal sighed. “You don’t have to be that literal with your name schemes,” she muttered.
Daikon charged in again, but Torta was able to move a ring in place to defend in time. Daikon’s fist was repelled by the ring, throwing his hand back so hard he spun around. Torta then launched his own attack, punching and kicking through the rings he moved around Daikon’s body. Even though Daikon could see the attacks coming at Torta’s movement speed, he couldn’t block them once they passed through an Onion Ring. The rings also increased the force of his blows higher than Daikon’s Super Saiyan power. After one last kick, Torta knocked Daikon through one Onion Ring, had him bounce off another before ring-out, and then hit him with a full-force punch through a third. Daikon fell unconscious, his hair turning black.
“One, two, three…!” the Daikaio gladly started counting out. The crowd waited with bated breath. “…eight, nine, ten! Torta is the winner of the Battle of the North by knockout!” The crowd erupted in applause.
Torta fell over, his body sore from all the warping. The North Kaio ran onto the stage and picked him up. “Good job, Sandwich Boy,” she said.
As they were making their way off stage, Torta stirred, swiping a piece of rubble off the ground. He flicked it behind them, the rock passing through a ring and hitting an awakened Daikon in the head. He was knocked back over to the other side of the ring, where the North Makaio caught him. “Take your boy back,” said Torta. “I’m not afraid of opening up a large order.” The crowd cheered, and the North Kaio laughed.
Regal slapped Torta’s back and the North Kaio set him on his feet. “That was really impressive,” she said. “You’re really not going to let me have this victory, are you?”
“What?” asked Torta. “I told you when we got here, I won our fight before we died. You want a rematch, then we’ll talk.”
Regal scowled. “I won that fight.”
The North traded glances with the East, who shrugged. “Now, now, let’s just finish this up,” she said. “You’ll be going home soon.” Torta and Regal locked eyes and smiled.
“Kaio, Makaio, everyone onto the arena floor!” the Daikaio commanded. Both parties walked into the floor, standing face to face. “I, the Daikaio, officially declare the Kaio to be the winners of this Tournament of the Ages!” The crowd roared with applause. “Congratulations on opening up this new age with a victory for the forces of life and creation! Makaio, I now order you to banish your fighters back to Hell! Know that I will banish them for you if you do not comply.”
The Makaio, annoyed and bitter, banished Daikon and Paprika III back to Hell, joining Malacol and Mixer. “Losers anyway,” muttered the North Makaio.
The Daikaio descended from the skybox carrying bouquets. He handed one to each of the Kaio and their warriors. “You all have my heartfelt gratitude,” said the Daikaio. “If any of you mortals ever want it, I wouldn’t mind giving you a training lesson myself.” Torta looked to Regal with excitement. She rolled her eyes. The Daikaio turned to the Makaio. “Thank you for participating, abiding by our rules, and maintaining the treaty.” He offered a handshake.
The North Makaio slapped his hand away. “We all know this is a show,” he said. “You even called it a farce. My master wishes we continue it, so I complied, but this doesn’t mean our plans for the universe will be delayed in the slightest. We will have our prize.” He glanced over at Torta, who was confused. “No one can stop our plans!”
“Then, goodbye,” said the Daikaio, waving the Makaio off. The demons scoffed and shuffled back over to the Makyo Star chunk they rode in on, preparing for departure. “And I let that bit of cheating slide! Don’t forget that I see right through you!” The demons all cursed the Daikaio as they left the arena.
“So?” asked the North Kaio.
“You did good, little lady,” the Daikaio said. “You all did. I hereby declare that this Tournament of the Ages is over! You may all go back to your normal duties!”
Torta and Regal felt warmed from the inside and turned to each other. “Your halo is gone!” Torta said, pointing at the empty space above Regal’s head.
Regal smiled. “Yours, too,” she confirmed.
“What’s this?” asked the Daikaio. “You better not have snuck living warriors into my heavenly tournament!”
“Oh, no!” said the North Kaio. “Just a bit of errant magic.”
“Then get these living beings out of my realm!” the Daikaio commanded. “You two, we can talk later, when you’re dead.”
The North and East Kaio took Torta and Regal away. “Come along, now,” the North said.
“Can I keep the flowers?” asked Torta.
“Ah, this fool,” the East said. “How do you put up with him, Regal?”
“The Grand Elder does like flowers,” Regal said.
The North laughed. “You can keep them.”
The group loaded up into the East Kaio’s car and rode off towards the check-in station. During the ride, Torta and Regal discussed their plans for the future, and wondered about what changes had come to the Earth. Once they arrived, Hades greeted them absent-mindedly, shuffling them out of his office. Soon enough, after one intense year, Torta and Regal were sent back to the world of the living, into the grand hall of the Temple of the Kami. Okome, Puttee, Gaita, Svenex, Dragon, the Grand Elder, Poboy, Joma, and Legging were all waiting to greet them with a feast.
Epilogue:
The revived heroes were swarmed by their friends in greeting. Everyone was so happy for this moment to finally come; having a promise from a magic dragon didn’t feel real until it came through. Torta was still riding high from his battle with Daikon, and was not yet adjusted to the sensation of life. Regal looked over everyone and locked eyes with the Grand Elder, feeling at home once more.
Okome showed them to the feast he had prepared, so everyone sat down to break bread and catch up. Torta and Regal entertained everyone with their tales from the battlefield on Sadla and the Other World. They also demonstrated their new techniques, to much applause. Gaita told them about her battle with Marianas, and how happy it made her to save the world. Legging introduced herself to the returned, and thanked Torta for being Puttee’s friend. Svenex was happy to tell them that, after the Marianas incident, she had been elected to the first ever World Council. Dragon, similarly, had become the first ever Saiyan President. The Grand Elder had not yet found the Earth Namekians, but continued to search for them tirelessly.
After the meal was over, everyone mingled in the grand hall. Torta was standing at the side, getting some breathing room. He looked over at Dragon, who was talking to Regal about how it felt to kill Malacol. Gaita approached Torta. “Hey, zombie guy,” she said. “You doing ok?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Torta, bashful. “I just…I guess being alive again is a little hard to handle.”
Gaita smiled. “I’m really glad you’re back, you know.”
“I do. Thanks. Also, I kinda feel like I should apologize. I totally thought Puttee had revived Spats, and she was the one fighting Abalone on Sadla. Regal explained it to me on our way back here.”
Gaita giggled at the easy mistake, and Torta’s eyes drifted back to Dragon. She had a flash of recognition. “Do you…think he’s hot, too?”
Torta got embarrassed. “Wh-what? I mean…last time I saw him, we were training for a life or death battle for all of space civilization! I wasn’t thinking about anything besides getting stronger! I didn’t really take the time to…like, look at him, you know?”
“Ah! I’m so glad I’m not the only one this inexperienced!”
“What do you…oh, with Spats’s body, do you…like people now?”
“Well, kinda. I think I always liked people, and I imagined dating and romance, but I didn’t really have…these feelings, because Puttee didn’t give them to me. It’s like a switch was flipped. I think I like it? Bodies are weird, though, aren’t they?”
“They are! Bodies can be so weird! And weird is good, isn’t it?”
Torta and Gaita felt refreshed in this shared feeling. Puttee cooed as she approached. Torta flinched, while Gaita rolled her eyes. “Hey, you two!” Puttee said. “Anything interesting to talk about?”
“Smooth as ever, sis,” Gaita said. “What about you? I’m sure you’ve got a lot more to talk about, besides teasing me every time I’m alone with someone. Like, you spend a lot of time alone these days, right? In your lab?” She turned to Torta. “She’s been in her lab night and day for the past seven months, won’t tell mom what she’s up to, won’t answer my calls.”
“Oh, that’s just normal me,” said Puttee. “Always tinkering in the lab, full of creative energy.” Her eyes shifted a moment.
“Yeah, well, I’d like to talk every now and then, you know? What have you been up to? Let me in!”
“It’s nothing big, really. Torta, when we get back home, let me run some measurements around those Onion Rings!”
“Totally,” said Torta. “But are you sure it won’t distract you? That does sound like a big project you’re in the middle of.”
Puttee dramatically gestured that thought away. “No! It’s totally fine! It’s just normal lab stuff. Oh, I gotta get Regal to let me run tests on her Samael!” Puttee ran off to bother Regal.
“You know, Svenex is wearing a dress tonight!” Gaita said with glee.
“Yeah,” Torta acknowledged.
Gaita was confused. “Do you…not like it?”
Torta was confused. “It is interesting, but…wait, are dresses supposed to be better somehow? I like what she normally wears.”
“Then, do you like the dresses I normally wear?”
“Yeah.” Torta blushed. “I mean, I wasn’t trying to say anything with that! Not that…Hey, Poboy! What’s up?” Torta fled the scene. Gaita was genuinely confused as to why she should assume he was flustered.
After the party was over, everyone went home through a Temple door. Torta was very happy to be back at home, in the ever-pleasant Unaffiliated Islands. He went to his backyard right away and laid the bouquet he won in the Tournament of the Ages on his parents’ grave. He was sad that he wasn’t able to see them in this past year, but he knew he’d have a chance to see them again, when his time came. For the moment, their grave seemed like the best place to leave flowers from Heaven. He told them about everything he did in the two years he was away, and how much he had grown.
A few hours later, he made his way to the bedroom, ready to sleep for the first time since he died. There was a knock on the fence. He looked and was surprised to find Svenex standing at the gate. “Hey, you got a minute?” she asked. “I know it’s late, but we need to talk. Like, not party talk.”
“Uh, sure,” said Torta, confused. “Did I do something? Are you in trouble?”
“What? No, it’s not like that. Come over next door.” Svenex went to Puttee’s home. Torta, unsure of the situation, followed. Inside, he found Svenex with Puttee, Gaita, Legging, Poboy, Dragon, the Grand Elder, and Regal. The entire party, except for Okome and Joma, had convened in the living room, which was newly decorated with odd sigils over all the doors and windows.
“What’s going on?” asked Torta.
Regal shrugged. “They’ve had me waiting here until you could join us,” said Regal. “Apparently, there’s something important we missed in our deaths.”
“Yes, there is,” said Svenex. “Torta, if you’ll take a seat, I’ll bring you up to speed.”
Torta sat down. Puttee leaned over. “She’s good at meetings now, since she’s a politician,” Puttee whispered.
“Ahem,” Svenex cleared her throat. “Poboy has reported that he was attacked by shadowy assailants in the Temple, and they revealed to him that Kami Okome has been keeping a lot of secrets. Using information gathered from both him and the Grand Elder, we know that the Earth Namekians are hiding from the Kami and, likely, the Grand Elder herself. They were wiped out by the emergence of a powerfully evil Namekian, not unlike Malacol. Legends call her the First Demon. The Grand Elder says that her predecessors failed to contact the Earth Namekians or send a search party after their initial collapse out of fear that they had ‘demon blood,’ making potential survivors a danger in their minds. We don’t know exactly what past Kamis did to earn their enmity, but we do know that the weapons in the Temple were stolen from the Earth Namekians, indicating a hostile relationship overall. The assailants that attacked Poboy were sent by Okome’s previous apprentice, Long, who’s in on all these secrets, and wants something in the Temple to gain power.
“Further, Gaita discovered the Mermaid Kingdom located in a pocket space similar to Kamiland, indicating that there could be any number of these locations around the world. In the past, we assumed the space of Kamiland was formed to protect the Temple, but what of these other spaces? Their history is mysteriously absent from the volumes in the Temple library. In the Mermaid Kingdom, Gaita and Dragon met a man, Chef, who is a master of unusual and ancient chi arts that allow him to convert chi into elemental power. Marianas had been his student in the past, but with his defeat, Chef began training Dragon instead, and insists he needs Dragon’s help with some unspecified challenge in the future.” Dragon held up his hands, making fire with one and ice with the other, impressing Torta and Regal. “We know there are others like Chef out there on Earth, possibly in other pocket spaces, but definitely involved in some secret thing that involves the Earth’s secret history. Chef even claims that his predecessors built the bubble spaces. Once again, not a mention of this in the Temple library.
“Add it all together, and you have…something fishy, at least. Okome has been uncooperative when tested with our concerns, and his past lies don’t give us a lot of trust. That’s why we had Poboy locate these sigils in a secret tome and place them on the walls, to keep Okome from seeing in this house. We meet here whenever we have a discovery. Any questions?”
Torta and Regal were stunned. “So…Okome is the bad guy?” Torta asked.
“I’m not sure,” said Poboy. “Talking with him, I think he genuinely feels bad about what happened in the past, with his predecessors, but his reluctance to help, or even communicate, in the present has me concerned.”
“I just wish I knew this in my past life,” said Legging. “I could have tried reaching out, been the helping hand to show the Earth Namekians that humanity can be their ally. I could have really changed how people felt about this, and hopefully begun the healing process.”
“I’m sorry,” Torta asked, “but how would you have done that?”
Legging turned to Puttee. “Does he not know?”
“Mom is the princess of Silico,” Puttee said. Torta and Regal were even more stunned, their jaws dropping.
“You didn’t know?!” Svenex asked, incredulous.
“You did?!” Torta asked.
“Yes! That’s why I was so mad and confused when I saw you two in Knuckle! How could you not know?!”
“I never told him,” said Puttee.
“You should have!” Torta said. Legging giggled.
“So, there’s no hard evidence for any theory about what’s going on?” Regal asked, to get out of that conversation spiral.
“No,” said Dragon. “Chef won’t tell me anything about the past, or why he wants to train me. We have all these inconsistencies and mysteries, which all seem to tie together in one place, but there’s nothing to point us one way or another right now.”
“And I don’t suppose it would help if we were all out investigating openly,” Regal asked, “where Okome could see us?”
“No, it’s all on the down low,” said Puttee. “It’s more of a ‘see something, say something’ situation. Poboy and the Grand Elder are the only ones who can look into any of this without it looking sus. I guess you’ll be helping the Grand Elder now, though, Regal.”
“Of course.”
“If only we could find an Earth Namekian,” said Gaita. “They could tell us what’s going on, and how we could help.”
“Yeah, they could really clear some things up,” said Svenex, crossing her arms.
Torta was still reeling. “Wow…” he said. “So, I guess that means…I don’t know what that means. Thanks, everyone, for telling me, and having the patience to wait for me to talk to my parents. I should probably get to bed, though, sleep on all this.”
Puttee yawned. “It is late. Let’s call it a night. Not like there’s much most of us can do about this, anyway.”
The group made their goodbyes and left. Torta had expected to come home and find the Earth as peaceful and simple as ever, but instead he found out it never was. He went to bed, feeling like as much an alien as he did in his space travels.
Life in the Gutters 