The moment the trio stepped onto the train, the interior swallowed them whole. What looked like an ordinary commuter car from the outside unfurled into something ridiculous and impossible: hundreds of floors and endless rows of seats that vanished into shadow. It was cavernous, an interior that bragged a secret life of its own—and utterly, deliciously empty.
"Woah! It's a lot bigger inside than the outside!" Shade's voice echoed with delighted disbelief as he craned his neck to take it in.
"I think it's reasonably sized," Shi Ji replied more measuredly, eyes tracking the dizzying tiers.
"Looks like we're the only ones here, and I'm glad. I hate crowded places," Akarui muttered, already unsettled at the thought of too many voices. "If everyone were here, I'd be yelling over forty different voices."
"It wouldn't be that bad," Shi Ji said, unconvinced.
"Have you ever been in a room like this filled with people?" Akarui challenged, arching an eyebrow.
"Uh, yeah. The draft," Shade answered without missing a beat, tone breezy as if he'd just made the cleverest observation of the night.
Akarui's inner glare was almost audible. Dammit, he's right—now I look like a dumbass!
A tinny voice crackled from the ceiling. "Passengers, get to your seats!"
The three of them drifted to the nearest row. Shi Ji slid into the window seat, Shade claimed the middle with a grin, and Akarui took the aisle like a general choosing his flank.
"Make sure to buckle up. The ride can get bumpy," the speaker warned.
"Seat buckles on a train?" Akarui's tone was incredulous.
Shade and Shi Ji clipped their belts without argument. "They're probably there for a good reason, Akarui," Shi Ji said.
"I haven't been on many trains in my lifetime, but this is a first!" Shade crowed.
"This is the first time I've ever been on one," Shi Ji admitted, "so I don't know if it's normal or not."
"It's not." Akarui buckled himself in with a frown.
A chirp from the speaker: "Alright, we're getting ready to go! Make sure to NOT leave your seats while the train is moving. Sit tight, we'll be at your destination in a 30 seconds tops!"
"30 seconds tops—?" Akarui's protest died in his throat.
The car lurched. Not a gentle roll, but a ripping acceleration that hurled the world into streaked rails of light. Everything inside stretched as the G-force slammed them into their seats, faces flattened by the sudden physics of speed. Shi Ji, pressed to the window, stared out at nothing that made sense—blue space and literal stars smeared by the shimmer of motion.
"Oh my God!" he breathed.
Shade's grin grew wider until his face was all teeth, G-force pinching the skin into comical folds. Akarui tried to hold composure, but the pressure contorted his face into something like a dried prune of irritation. Shi Ji's visage, for all its panic, was visibly fishy—gills of distress, mouth slack, eyes blown wide.
Seconds later—an abrupt stop. The train killed its speed like a heart skipping a beat.
"We're here! Get out of your seats!" the speaker announced.
The belts unlatched themselves. Shade and Akarui scrambled up, but the motion had its toll: Akarui folded to his knees as if the floor were a betrayal.
"You ok there?" Shade asked, trying for nonchalance.
"I-I'm all fine." Akarui's voice trembled; his body betrayed nausea. I'm so... nauseous! he thought, cheeks pale.
Shi Ji was a crumpled shadow of consciousness, slumped against the seat with eyes rolled back and mouth hanging open. "I-Is it over?!" he croaked.
Shade slapped his own face like a reset button and offered a breezy confirmation. "Yeah—we're here. The conductor only said thirty seconds."
"I-I can't move," Shi Ji whimpered.
"Don't worry, I gotcha!" Shade hoisted Shi Ji over his shoulder like a sack and strode past Akarui, who was still floundering on hands and knees.
"You gonna get up?" Shade asked over his shoulder.
"Y-Yeah..." Akarui forced himself upright, wobbling as he followed.
They approached the still-closed door as a cheery voice piped through once more: "Have a good regular season fighters!"
When the doors sighed open, the world outside slapped them silent. A vast grassland unfurled under a leaden sky—brown blades rippling in a wind that tasted of old iron. Clouds were heavy and nearly black. Boulders and mud pits pocked the ground, trees were stunted and leafless, and everything looked tired.
Their eyes were drawn instead to a building: a sturdy wooden cabin standing like a command post on the plain. A flag snapped above it, bearing a bear's face—eyes the color of embers and teeth like knives. Shade and Akarui stepped off the train together; no sooner had their boots met the earth than the train vanished behind them, like a dream that closed its eyelids at dawn.
Akarui exhaled, shoulders tightening as if bracing for a verdict. "Well... this is it," he said, voice low and final.
"LET'S MEET THE TEAM!!!" Shade whooped and took off, sprinting toward the cabin door with Shi Ji slung awkwardly over his shoulder, limbs flailing.
"Shade! Slow down! I can't take anymore speed!" Shi Ji hollered, the protest muffled by the wind.
The door they reached did not belong to the quaint wooden façade. Where the cabin promised timber and hearth, the entrance was a slab of stainless steel—pitted, scarred, and uncharacteristically brutal. Bullet holes spidered across its surface. Long, jagged bite marks nicked the metal. Someone, some thing, had used it as a target and left it battered.
Akarui caught up and planted himself beside Shade. "I suppose we just knock," he said with a single, rueful eyebrow raise.
"On it!" Shade grinned and then, with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, slammed the side of his fist into the door three times. The knocks echoed like cannon shots across the property and carved a deep dent into the metal.
"YOU JUST DIDN'T KNOCK THE DOOR!" Akarui bellowed, more stunned than angry.
"Oops," Shade admitted, half-smile still plastered on his face.
"Have you EVER knocked at a door?!" Akarui demanded.
"Not often. Most of the time, I just enter the building," Shade said casually.
"And what? Did they shoot you right after?" Akarui demanded incredulously.
"Yeah, and they always miss," Shade replied offhand, as if this were an everyday annoyance.
The metal groaned and swung inward. Darkness pooled in the doorway and a voice rolled out of it—huge, cavernous, the kind of sound that belonged to someone who filled space as easily as breath.
"Who are you three?" the voice rumbled.
Akarui stiffened; a bead of sweat traced his cheek. Shi Ji went paper-white. Shade, seen from the front, didn't change his expression at all.
"This is the Bold Bears HQ, right?" Shade asked, keeping his tone bright and unbothered.
"Yes," the voice answered.
"We're the newly drafted rookies," Shade continued.
"I see..." Something clicked; a switch somewhere was flipped. Light spilled into the doorway and showed who had spoken. The man standing there was massive—wider and taller than the frame that tried to contain him. He wore a brown tee and battered leather gloves, and his belly rode out like a slow drum. But the most arresting detail was the helmet: metal, full-faced, and crowned with small horns. The visor hid his features completely. The sight of him made Shi Ji blanch even further.
HE'S EVEN MORE SCARY THAN I THOUGHT!!! Shi Ji's inner scream was all teeth.
"Come in," the helmeted giant invited, and stepped aside. Shade and Akarui moved into the hall. The door thudded shut behind them.
Akarui spun once and the man with the helmet had already vanished. "Aaand he's gone," Akarui said to no one and everyone.
"I didn't even notice! He must be fast," Shade observed, genuinely impressed.
The corridor they entered was somber and oddly elegant. Gold frames held paintings—masterful works that looked expensive even in the dim light. At the far end a closed door throbbed with noise; it was like a heartbeat in volume. Something—someone—was making a lot of ruckus in there.
"There might be people in that room," Akarui said, voice flat.
A shriek tore across the building—high, raw, blood-curdling. It made skin crawl and caused a dozen reflexive heartbeats to spike.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!" Shi Ji cried.
"It sounded like someone just got killed..." Akarui breathed, dread pooling.
"And that's even more of a good reason to go into that room!" Shade declared, already sprinting down the hall.
"AAAAH NOOOO!!! PUT ME DOWN FIRST!!!" Shi Ji wailed from his perch.
Akarui exhaled, a long, patient huff. I really do hope this isn't some trap, he thought, and followed in Shade's wake. "Don't just bust in. Peek," he muttered.
Shade grudgingly obliged. He eased the heavy door a hair, just enough to slide his head and Akarui's past the frame. What they saw made them both still.
A gaggle of people sat around a filthy, round table. It was a mess of empty plates, sticky bottles, and the kind of chaos that suggested long hours and no regard for cleanliness. Cards lay scattered—their game was cartoonishly titled "Uno No Mercy." At the head of the table sat a man with a presence so calm he looked like the eye of a storm. He wore a simple white tank top, but everything below his neck was a map of black ink—tattoos layered and dense, no single image obvious. His hair was long dreadlocks that fell to his hips and shrouded his face; they even hid his eyes. In front of him rested a single card.
"I'm going to win again, for like the 14th time now? You guys suck at this," the dreadlocked man taunted, voice lazy and confident.
To his left a woman with hair cropped to a dark purple bob and arms carved with muscle erupted. She wore a black tank and glared like a stormcloud ready to split. Her hand was full of cards.
"YOU JUST HIT ME WITH A PLUS TEN OUT OF NOWHERE!!!" she screamed, outrage sharp as a blade.
"If you can't take the heat, stay out of the kitchen," the dreadhead replied with a smug smile.
She grabbed him by the collar and yanked him close, rage burning in her eyes. "I'll fucking slit your throat open," she hissed, teeth bared.
The dreadlocked man only gave her a cheesy grin. "Someone's mad."
Next to the purple-haired woman sat a woman in a white dress. Her hair fell long and black, and her eyes were an arresting blue—wide, worried, and soft. She held five cards clutched tight.
"H-Hey, calm down... It's just a game..." she murmured, trying to soothe the tension.
The purple-haired woman shoved the dreadhead aside hard enough that he toppled from his chair and hit the floor. Eyes flashing, she turned at the woman in the dress. "It's a game I'm about to lose!"
The dreadhead, sprawled on the floor but still smiling, said with breezy condescension, "It's ok. Just accept the loss."
"SHUT UP!!!" the purple-haired woman snapped, fury flaring like a torch.
On the other side of the table sat another man—his skin the pale green of someone who never saw sun. Short turquoise hair crowned his head, and his eyes were a peculiar gold. He sat near a wooden pole; an X-shaped scar slashed his left cheek. He had no hand in the game—probably already eliminated. He watched, expression unreadable, the quiet salt in a pot of boiling anger.
The room stank of smoke, beer, and the kind of camaraderie that edged dangerously close to violence. Shade and Akarui kept their heads just inside the doorway, two rookies caught between awe and the unmistakable prick of danger.
Shade and Akarui exchanged a glance—half grin, half steel—then eased their heads back into the doorway to take a fuller look.
"What's happening in there?" Shi Ji's voice drifted from over Shade's shoulder, small and wary.
"Take a look for yourself," Akarui chuckled, voice low.
Shi Ji slid down off Shade's shoulder and the three of them peered into the room together. It was noisier now—laughter braided with insults and the clack of cards. Off to one side, at a separate table, a man with dirty-blonde hair hunched over a bottle. His head rested on his arms and he cradled the beer like something fragile. Beside him, trapped in a small wire cage, a brown bear cub with yellow eyes sat perfectly still, looking oddly bored.
"Ugh, does somebody have a plus 10 to hit this bastard with!?" the purple-haired woman barked, frustration raw in her tone.
"You'd love that," the dreadlocked man replied, unfazed.
The pale-skinned man—quiet, green-tinged, watching from his pole—laid down a card and passed the turn. The dreadhead's eyes brightened.
"Uno out," he said smugly, slapping another plus-ten onto the pile. The room went still for a sliver of time—too still—before the purple-haired woman snapped. She hurled a wooden chair at the dreadhead; it connected with a shattering crack. She grabbed him by the collar and shook him like a terrier with a bone, words raining down in a torrent of threats and venom.
Something thudded behind the trio. They jerked their heads back to see what had fallen and found a girl stumbling into the corridor. Her dark blue hair was braided tight; her violet eyes were wide. She'd been carrying two cups and one slipped from her fingers, shattering on the floor.
"AAAAAAAAAH!!!!" she shrieked.
"AAAAAH!!!" Shi Ji echoed, reflex and fear colliding.
In the scramble, Shi Ji tumbled forward into the room and Shade and Akarui flopped after him. The purple-haired woman released the dreadhead, seething, then conjured a fully pink sword that hummed with menace. She turned, pointed the blade at the three interlopers, and demanded, "Who are you guys?"
"We're the newly drafted rookies for your team," Shade announced, chest puffed with the kind of pride only rookies could muster.
The purple-haired woman froze for a heartbeat, sword poised; then, as if deciding the announcement was neither a threat nor a surprise, she let the blade fragment into glints and slid into the dreadhead's vacant chair.
"GM sure did draft a lot of people this time around," she muttered with weary sarcasm.
The dreadlocked man hauled himself up, blinking his grin back into place despite the chair incident. "Three more rookies? God, is the GM preparing to trade one of us or something?"
"D-Don't say that..." Miriam in the white dress squeaked, eyes rimmed with worry.
"Ha, I'm just joking," the dreadhead said lightly, and then he ambled over to the trio, steadier now. "So, you're the rookies? I heard prior that we drafted four people this time around."
"Four people?" Shi Ji repeated, confusion plain.
"There was a girl drafted to our team two picks before you. She had the second-lowest overall, just ahead of you," Shade supplied.
"And she's right behind you." The dreadhead nodded toward the blue-haired girl hovering in the doorway, still shaken. "Her name is Lana Kila." He jabbed a thumb at his own chest. "I'm Prius Von Daffodil. People just call me PVD. I'm an all-star on this team. Your names?"
"My name is Shade Shaid!" Shade announced with flair.
"Akarui Nintai," Akarui said plainly.
"I'm Shi Ji," Shi Ji replied, voice small but steady.
"Nice meeting y'all, Shade, Akarui, and Shi!" Prius said, grin wide. Then, as if clarifying, "Shi Ji."
"It's Shi Ji," Shi Ji corrected.
"Shiji," Prius parroted casually.
"Shi and Ji are two separate words," Shi Ji explained, patient.
"So do you want me to put a little pause in between Shi and Ji?" Prius offered with a theatrical tilt.
"Yes," Shi Ji answered.
"Okay. I'll show you around the place, but let me introduce you to the rest of the crew! First..." Prius swept a hand to indicate the purple-haired woman, who was still scowling and refused to meet his eyes.
"Amor Justus," Prius said. "She's the team's second all-star. She's mean and always angry."
"That is not... entirely true," Amor grunted, but the edge in her voice softened as if she regretted the admission before it escaped.
"It's entirely true," Prius insisted, whispering conspiratorially to the rookies, and then, loud enough for everyone to hear, he jabbed a finger toward the woman in the white dress. "That's Miriam Becker—she's the nicest person you'll ever meet."
"Oh... stop it, Prius," Miriam protested with a faint flush.
Prius then pointed to the pale-skinned man. "Matthew Zachary. He's shy."
Matthew offered a small wave; Shade and Shi Ji were the only ones who waved back.
Prius indicated the man slumped with a beer bottle—head bowed, expression sullen. "That's Banri Ito. He's a super-star who got traded off of his super-team last year after losing in the finals. He came just this off-season, and he DOES NOT want to be here."
"He looks miserable," Akarui observed bluntly.
"He is miserable," Prius agreed.
"Guys, let's not talking about him like that..." Miriam said, cheeks reddening.
"He better not throw any fights. If he does, the last thing he'll see is his own beating heart," Amor snapped, menace poised like a blade.
"See what I mean? She's insane," Prius whispered to the rookies with a chuckle.
"I can hear you," Amor shot back.
"I know," Prius replied, unfazed.
"Stupid... ugh," Amor muttered under her breath as she crossed her arms, eyes hard.
"Next to the super-star is our mascot. Reese," Prius announced grandly.
"Why is he in a cage?" Shi Ji asked, bafflement plain.
"LEMME OUUUUT!!!!" the mascot bellowed from his tiny prison.
"IT TALKS?!" Shi Ji gaped.
"You are a giant talking fish," Shade observed, matter-of-factly.
"That is pretty weird. I've never seen a thing like you," Prius admitted, genuinely intrigued.
"Just uh—why is the mascot in the cage?" Shi Ji persisted.
"We have a... very—" Prius began, clearly choosing his words carefully.
"I'LL RIP YOUR HEARTS OUT AND EAT THEM!!!" Reese roared, cutting Prius off mid-sentence.
"Violent mascot," Prius muttered, shrugging.
"So they're two blood-thirsty monsters on this team..." Akarui mused, glancing between Amor and the mascot.
"Who's the first?" Prius asked, curious.
"Don't even SAY IT, rookie," Amor snapped at Akarui, glaring.
"I'm starting to like you," Prius said, clapping Akarui on the shoulder.
"You're not so bad yourself," Akarui returned.
"Take a seat, rooks!" Prius gestured toward a ring of empty chairs. Shade, Shi Ji, and Akarui sank into them, faces new and wide-eyed, while Prius simply squatted down in front of them—part-showman, part-guide—ready to continue his tour.
Prius glanced over his shoulder and called, "You can come over here too Lana." The name hung in the air like an invitation.
Lana moved like a shadow—swift, economical—until she stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the rookies, each step deliberate. She kept stealing little, guarded glances at them, as though she were cataloging their faces in a private ledger.
"Lana was here a full day earlier than you three," Prius announced, folding the fact into the room like a casual fact.
"We got sort of caught up on something," Akarui said, voice even. He didn't elaborate; the look on his face carried the weight of whatever "something" had been.
"It's all good," Prius waved off, smile generous.
Shi Ji's curiosity, small and persistent, poked out. "Can you see with your hair covering your eyes like that."
Prius only grinned, and with theatrical flourish he peeled his dreadlocks aside to reveal one eye. His pupil was a ring within a ring: the outer iris hot pink, the inner ring a clear sky-blue, and at the very center a tiny kanji—行く—rendered in yellow, a small symbol that made the room tilt with its unexpectedness.
"Boo." Prius released his hair and let the dreads tumble back into place, obscuring the eye once more.
"Woah! Your eyes," Shade blurted in the way of someone who'd just been handed a weird and wonderful object.
Prius let the dreads curtain his face again and shrugged. "I get that a lot. It's not important right now though! Coach said he wanted to do a small drill with the rookies before the regular season starts."
"Coach? Who's our coach?" Shade asked, eager and loud as a child who'd been promised a show.
Prius spun a little tale with the relish of a gossip. "He's a legendary fighter of the past, he was a top-dog thirty years ago, and now he's pushing his late fifties. In his day, he was a mega-star who every year for ten years straight carried his team to the finals—just to be defeated because he could never carry his team to champion status alone. For his crazy stats, he would be considered the greatest of all time."
"Yeah, he truly is admirable. His presence alone on our team makes people consider our team a dangerous team, he doesn't even fight anymore," Amor added, grudging respect in her voice.
"He's better known as his nickname, 'The Man Built Like God's Plan'" Prius declared, as if naming him might summon the legend.
"Mustang Bison!" Shade and Akarui said at once, like a pair of kids who'd read the same comic and now got to meet the hero.
"See, you know him!" Prius crowed.
"He's really the coach of this team?" Akarui asked, eyes wide.
"Where is he?" Shade demanded.
"He was doing something..." Prius hedged.
Shi Ji's brow furrowed. "Wait... if this is all of the team... who was that large fat guy who welcomed us into the building?"
"That's coach," Prius said simply.
The look that passed over Shade and Akarui was a quick ignition—surprise snapping into something like reverence. "THAT'S MUSTANG BISON!?" they exclaimed together.
A voice like a rolling boulder cut across the chatter: "My door..." It rumbled from somewhere behind Prius.
"Speak of the devil," Prius muttered. The helmeted figure they'd seen earlier re-entered the room, but now the casual nickname made the stranger's identity an absurd reality.
Mustang loomed into the doorway. "Who dented my front door?" His question was less curiosity than an accusation, and everyone turned in a beat toward Shade.
Shi Ji and Akarui pointed without hesitation. Shade, with a sheepish little poker-face, raised one hand.
Mustang's reaction was immediate and comically brutal. He grabbed Shade by the leg like a man securing a stray animal and hauled him out of the room with zero ceremony.
"He's taking me!!!" Shade yelled as he disappeared from view.
"And there he goes," Akarui observed flatly, nearly a whisper now that the commotion was over.
There was a momentary hush—a pause in the room's noise —and then Prius shrugged and slid back into casual mode. "So, anyone up for some uno no mercy?"
"Sure," Akarui replied, and the room's tension slipped into familiar grooves.
Amor slammed her face into the table in a perfect, petulant ugh. "UGH!" she spat, dramatic as always, and the game resumed, the rookies' arrival folded into the club's battered fabric like another turn in a long, strange hand.