Tourney -or- Bully, Weenie, and Fuzzball Win a Fight
Tourney
-or-
Bully, Weenie, and Fuzzball Win a Fight
by The Blue Spanch and Koko-chan
Lord Furuenai lay in bed, glaring wearily at the ceiling tiles as his body quietly disintegrated around him. Nearby, his most faithful Oni sat in a plain wooden chair in case he wanted anything. Furuenai allowed himself a spark of wry amusement; he wouldn't be wanting much more than a decent burial before long. He wasn't half as worried about dying as he was about the fate of his lands. When he had staked them out a thousand years ago, they were nothing but open grassland, rocky mountains, and thick pine forests; undeveloped and useless. Things had changed a great deal since then. Fertile farmlands had replaced the grasslands, and the moa rookeries produced birds famous for their size and stamina. Rare healing herbs and exotic furs and spices were to be found in the forests, to say nothing of the excellent lumber. The mountains concealed rich mines in their stony slopes, with several deposits of the rare and prized star opals. His city and surrounding towns were prosperous, and he had heartily encouraged his resident inventors to come up with all sorts of interesting and profitable gadgets.
Then he fell ill.
He'd never bothered to produce any heirs, and he hadn't yet found anyone of his own rank worthy of being named one. All of his relatives had either gotten themselves killed in useless little wars or duels long since, so that was no option. Furuenai was fairly sure that his illness had been caused by one of his rivals; the whole lot of them had been slavering around his well-patrolled borders for centuries now. "Mike." He said, wincing inwardly at how his voice had changed. His
resonant baritone had become a raspy whisper.
"Yes, Master?" His Oni said, springing to attention.
"I'm not going to get better, am I?" Furuenai rasped.
"Well," Mike said with the forced brightness one uses around a terminal patient. "The healer says that with time-"
"I don't have time, Mike." Furuenai interrupted. "I can feel death creeping up on my heart. I've lived for more than a thousand years, so I know the difference between life and death. This sure doesn't feel like life, Mike. Does the healer have any idea of what this malady is?"
Mike sighed, deflated and hopeless. "Not really. The Ningens have something like it. They call it AIDS."
"A stupid name for such an unpleasant disease. I take it that they've never been able to cure it either?"
"No, Master."
"Damn." Furuenai traced a crack in the ceiling with the one eye that still focussed properly. After a while, he spoke again. "There'll be a Tourney, you know. For my lands. They're too good to just let go. Every street tough, sorcerer, and scoundrel will flock around to try their hand at taking them. Dear gods, but could you imagine what someone like Yomi would do to this place? Just to make their lives difficult, I want to set the rules."
"What?" Mike said, surprised.
"I know that it's unusual. For the most part, the previous owners of disputed territories are too dead to set the rules. I'm not quite dead yet." He drew in a painful breath. "Now listen carefully."
He paused a moment to let his favorite servant search his pockets for a notepad and pen. "Ready, Master."
"Good man. Rule one: Nobody is to be barred from the competition. That means that all folks regardless of species, sex, religion, color, creed, or anything else can fight.
"Rule two: This is a to-the-death tournament, but if a fighter wants to forfeit the match, that's fine.
"Rule three: The contestants are to come in teams of at least four. No single fighters.
"Rule four: The matches will be in four rounds- first round is singles, second round is doubles, third is full team battle, and the fourth is singles again, with one player from each team having it out with another. Keep that up with the last round till there's only one left standing.
"Rule five- and here's the kicker: The competing teams are to be called up randomly. Write down the names, give each team a jar and throw the names in. Pick 'em out at random. That oughtta rattle some cages."
"It sure would." Mike said. "I'm not positive that the officials would follow your rules, though."
"Oh, they'd better." Furuenai said with a wheezing laugh. "I'll haunt 'em all into an early grave if they don't. My word upon it!"
Mike jotted that down for good measure. Few people would care to risk having a malicious poltergeist floating around the place, causing all sorts of trouble. "Anything else, Master?"
No answer.
"Master?"
Furuenai lay still as a marble statue, eyes unfocused and a faint smile on his face. He wasn't breathing.
"Oh, nuts." Mike muttered. Then he burst into tears.
He was right, though. The Tourney Masters weren't very happy about Furuenai's rules when they came to oversee the preparations. Mike stood nervously in the middle of them, clutching his notebook in a white-knuckle grip. "This is highly unusual." One sniffed. "I don't see why we should do it this way."
"Well, it is his dying bequest." Another said. "Respect must be paid to the dead, after all."
"Don't be ridiculous." Snapped the third. "I am not about to open a respectable competition to a bunch of lower-class riff-raff! And this 'random choice' nonsense? Absurd. Not to mention the forfeiting option. I could go on for hours about why that is totally out of the question-"
He didn't have to. A bolt of lightning lanced out of the clear blue sky and crisped the officious demon on the spot, leaving nothing but a greasy smear on the stones and a foul-smelling wisp of smoke.
"Then again," The first Toumey Master said weakly. "Respecting our dear, departed neighbor's wishes might not be a bad idea after all."
"Indeed." The second one replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go burn some incense."
Within a week, the colosseum was made ready. The floors, walls, and bleachers were freshly scrubbed, the locker rooms were ferociously fumigated, and all manner of flags, banners, and buntings had been prepared. All it needed now were some contestants. The notices went out and every tree, lamp-post, and example of tacky public statuary was plastered all over with them. Before long, the fighters started streaming in from all corners of the Makai, all of them determined to beat the shit out of everyone else. Some famous teams and singles were hard to get a hold of, though. The remaining two Tourney Masters weren't going to make the effort of calling them in, but the local
merchant princes insisted. This Tourney was setting up to be the biggest economic boom since the Ankoku Bujutskai, so why not invite the more notorious and unusual folks? A bit of discreet bribery
ensured the presence of these most elusive and esoteric of people.
The one problem with this was actually getting the invitations to these people. The task was given to a volunteer, a young and agile Cat-spirit by the name of Yaru, who had a liking for strange
adventures. Yaru found his liking start to fade as he delivered the notices, however. Many of the fighters who received his message were excessively grumpy, territorial, and in one case, hungry. If that wasn't bad enough, some of the places he had to go were impossible!
"I just can't do it any more!" He exclaimed to the Harlequin as the molasses blooped stickily around him. "I just can't!"
Yaru had located the God of Chaotic Silly in a tent in a wandering carnival. Unfortunately, he had also discovered that the 'Quin had a broad sense of humor when it came to designing booby traps. Right now, he was sitting in a vat of cold molasses, draped with Silly-String and dusted liberally with confetti. The Harlequin was perched sideways on one of the tent's support poles, watching him with those luminous yellow eyes. "Can't do what?" The 'Quin asked.
"Deliver these notices!" Yarn moaned. "See? Even the Gods have trouble getting to the Shattered Lands! How in Stan's name am I supposed to get over there?"
"Who do you need to contact?" The Harlequin asked, curiosity peaked. "If it's an artichoke or a green weasel, you're out of luck. The Orgulous Space Squid took them blender-hunting on the were-slopes of Hairy Ionia, and they haven't come back yet."
Yaru gave him a funny look and wordlessly held up the treacle-smeared guest list. The Harlequin floated over and peered at it. "Oh, hey, a Tournament!" He said happily. "And here I am on the list. Good. Tell you what, sprat; I'll contact the Shattered-Land fellas for you, while you alert the last five folks on the list. Is all hunky-dory with that?"
"Okay." Yaru said, quite willing to let someone else get beat up on by peevish privacy-loving fighters. "Could you give me a hand here? I'm stuck."
"Oh! Sorry. I'm still on a molasses kick. Here we go-"
Five minutes later, Yaru sat alone on the floor of the tent, clean, damp and gasping for breath. Geysers were nice to look at, but they were no fun to shower in. With a grunt, he stood up, looked at his list to make sure he knew where to go, and then headed for the Ningenkai.
Yaru came out of Interspace in a very pleasant temple garden; well, it was pleasant for the first few seconds, at least. A blast of energy blew him clean out of his socks not half a minute after his arrival. With a yowl of pain and surprise, he scampered halfway up a tree, then turned his head to try and catch a glimpse of his attacker. A short, elderly lady with pinkish hair and a ball of crackling force clutched tightly in one hand was standing on the grass, glaring angrily at him. What the hell do you think you were doing, Fuzz-ass?" She demanded. "Stay out of my daisies!"
Sure enough, he had arrived in the middle of a well-tended flower bed. "I'm sorry, Genkai! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Yaru wailed. "Don't shoot the messenger!"
That raised an eyebrow. "What's the message?"
"Here!" Yarn threw her a sheet of paper.
Deftly she caught it before the wind could, and began to read. "Damn." She muttered. "Furuenai's dead?"
Yaru nodded.
"I'm afraid you'll have to tell your bosses that I can't come. I sprained my knee chasing gophers out of the garden yesterday."
"My sympathies. How'd that happen?"
"I was using cherry bombs and Super-Soakers. It's a bit hard on the lawn, but it's loads of fun."
"I'll have to take your word for it." Yaru said, and then left.
There is an old saying that states: "Black cats walk through walls". Yaru was no exception to this rule as he entered the Urameshi residence. He found Yuusuke in the living room, cuddling with Keiko. "Hello! Hello! I bring a-"
WHAM!!
The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back with a lump on his head. Keiko was looming fearsomely over him with a huge mallet in her hands. "Telegram for the ingenue." He said muzzily, holding up the notice. "I'm gonna pass out now."
Yuusuke took the paper from Yaru's unresisting fingers and read it.
"What is it, Yuusuke?" Keiko asked, leaning the mallet on one shoulder.
"Some Makai lord died and there's a tournament for his lands. I've just been invited. Cool!"
"Those things are fights to the death, aren't they?" Keiko said, worried.
"Yeah, but there's some funny rules to this one. Even if I lose, I stand a good chance of coming out alive."
"I take it that you're not going to lose, if you can help it. There's no chance of me talking you out of this, is there?"
"Nope! This sounds like fun."
"Men! All right. Hold on while I wake up our messenger."
Keiko fetched a bucket of water and tipped it out onto the recumbent Yaru, who came awake with a squawk of protest. "Eeech! Water!"
Yuusuke smiled cheerfully at the dripping cat-spirit. "You can count me in for the Tourney, pal. Thanks for the warning."
"You're welcome. I wish that I had some. This wench of yours is a fast hand with a hammer!" Yam said, getting up.
"Wench?!" Keiko shouted angrily and swung her mallet at Yaru, but it sailed through empty air; Yaru was wise enough to duck back out, leaving the girl to fume impotently. "Oooh, that cat!"
"He's right, though," Yuusuke laughed. "You are good with that thing!"
Keiko whacked him one for good measure.
Kurama and Hiei lay on the bed, exploring each other's bodies with gentle, questing hands. So small, Kurama mused, tracing his lover's muscles with his fingertips. And yet so strong, so athletic, and warm to the touch. He drew one hand down the Koorime's spine, delighting in the reflexive shudder that his touch triggered. So very graceful, and he's mine.
Hiei was bemused by this intimacy, a most rare occurrence for him. He combed Kurama's flaming locks with his fingers, fascinated by the soft, silken texture and those green, green eyes. He moved his hands down Kurama's back, feeling the deliciously alive, velvety skin that stretched tautly over firm muscle... I wonder what else I might find underneath his clothing. He thought, and decided to find out.
"Hello the house! Oh, dear, this isn't the best of times, is it- ooomph!"
Kurama suddenly found himself alone in the bed.
"Aaaaahhh! No! Please don't kill me! Help! Rabid Koorime!"
"Wretched cat! I'll slice off your tail and make you eat it!" Hiei's voice came from somewhere near floor level.
Kurama swivelled himself around so that he could see what was going on. Hiei was perched snarling on a cat-spirit's chest, menacing the frightened feline with his shining katana.
Yaru caught sight of Kurama, and figured that the fox would be easier to reason with than the volcanic-tempered fire-demon who was sitting on his ribs. "Help, Kurama! Call your firebaby off!"
Hiei did not like being called a firebaby, especially by some fuzz-assed stranger. He was about to put an end to this annoying intruder, but Kurama interrupted him.
"Cool it, Hiei." Kurama said calmly, resting his chin on one hand. "I want to know why he came here."
"Don't wanna." Hiei growled. "How 'bout I just kill him and we go through his pockets?"
"Aiieee!" Yam squeaked.
Kurama pretended to consider it. Genuinely curious though he was, he didn't approve of having his intimate moments barged in upon, either. "No, Hiei." He said finally. "If you do that, we may never find the reason. Besides, you know how hard it is to get bloodstains out of this carpet. They always upset my mother, too."
Hiei sheathed his sword, grumbling obscenities under his breath. He didn't get off of Yaru, though.
"Thanks, pal." Yaru said, and started feeling around in his pockets. "I bring you two a message from... Oh, never mind."
Hiei was holding the folded papers loosely in one hand. "What do they say?" He asked, handing them to Kurama.
Kurama read the notices and raised an eyebrow. "Lord Furuenai died a week or two ago." He said. "They're holding a Tourney for his territory."
It was Hiei's turn to raise his eyebrows. "Furuenai? I've been to his place before. Good pickings, with all those star opals." K-ching!
They paused for a moment to consider that. Unabashed greed met unabashed greed as their eyes locked on each other, and they shared a smile. Why not? Together they made a dandy team. "Count us in." Kurama said, speaking for the both of them.
"Fine." Yaru said, a little breathlessly. "Hiei, would you please get off? I have one more notice to deliver, and then I can go home and hide."
"Who's the lucky one?" Hiei asked, getting up.
"Some guy named Kuwabara."
Hiei snorted with amusement. "You shouldn't have too much trouble with that one. That big ox couldn't find his behind with a magnifying glass."
"Maybe, but he might find mine with his foot. I am never volunteering for anything ever again." Yaru said as he departed.
Yaru found Kuwabara in the Arcade, beating the snot out of one of the games. Since this was a much more public place, Yaru elected to use the doors instead of coming through the wall. He waited politely until Kuwabara had finished, then moved to tap him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, I-Yike!"
Kuwabara did not like being tapped on the shoulder by unfamiliar people, especially not after he'd lost a video game by that much. "What?"
"Urk!" Was all that Yaru could manage at the moment. Kuwabara was holding him severalinches off the ground by the front of his shirt.
"Annoying person!" Kuwabara snapped. "I, the great Kuwabara Kazuma, will pummel you for irritating me while I'm in a poopy mood!"
"Hey!" Yaru cried. "Don't do it, man! There's rules that forbid killing heralds!"
"What?" Kuwabara said, puzzled.
"Look, dude, you want your mail or not?"
Kuwabara, it seemed, was not the only one in a poopy mood at the moment. Yaru had been bullied all day by folks who were bigger and meaner than he was, but damned if he was going to take that kind of shit from a pompous Ningen!
"Oh, sorry." Kuwabara said.
Yaru dug the paper out of a pocket and handed it to Kuwabara, who dropped him on the floor. The cat spirit landed with a thud on his rear and sat there, glaring at the human as he struggled through the notice's elaborate calligraphy. Yaru sighed to himself. When all this was over with, he was going to find the sadist that sent him out on this job and toss up a hairball down his shirt.
"Hey, cat," Kuwabara said, interrupting his reverie. "Is this tourney going to be anything like the last one?"
"A bit more low-key." Yaru replied. "Furuenai didn't have all that much land, but what he had was and still is really good."
"Cool!" Kuwabara said, and struck a dramatic pose. "Then I, the Great Kuwabara Kazuma, will go forth to battle, and nothing will stand in my way, for- Hey, where'd you go?"
Yaru had left, unwilling to listen to another speech. If he wanted hot air, he'd poke a hole in a blimp.
The next day, the Spirit Detectives met in the park to show off their invitations. It was a bit of a disappointment for them when they found that they all had received them. "Drat!" Yuusuke said. "And here I was, all set to gloat at the rest of you guys!"
"Shut up, Yuusuke." They chorused.
"Well, the paper did say that only teams of four or more were allowed to enter." Kurama said. "We'll just go together as usual."
They agreed, and Kurama opened a gate to the Colosseum in the Makai. When they arrived, a busy scene met their eyes. A thronging tent city had been built over the last few days, and warriors and sorcerers and merchants of every species and description wandered through the crowd or sparred in clear areas. The Colosseum rose from the center of it all like a giant iceberg built of gleaming marble, hung around with bright-colored decorations. The air was filled with voices and the clash of weapons, and the occasional fizz and zapp of warring magic crackled through the noise. It smelled not all that unpleasantly of food, heat-soured ale, ozone, and lots and lots of people.
"Wow." Said Yuusuke, summing it all up in one word.
Kurama hitched his backpack a little higher on his shoulders. "We'd better go and register with the officials." He said. "They don't like gate-crashers."
"Could we hold off on doing that for a little while?" Kuwabara asked a little plaintively. "I haven't had lunch yet, and that cafe over there smells really good."
"I'm feeling a little empty, myself." Yuusuke added.
Kurama was about to protest, but Hiei picked his pocket right then and there, and headed off in the direction of the eatery. They shrugged and followed him.
It wasn't a large cafe, but it was clean, cool, cheap, and it did smell very good. They found some menus and an empty table and sat down, whereupon Yuusuke took out a bit of paper and a pen. "Okay, who wants what?"
Everybody suggested enough dishes to feed twice their number, but considering just how hungry they were at the moment, it sounded fine. Yuusuke wrote them all down and went off with Kurama to purchase lunch. It took them two trips to get it all back to their table. They spent the first fifteen minutes stuffing their faces, so they didn't notice the two new arrivals who sat down at the table across from them. This was surprising, since the outfit that one of them was wearing caused
the security camera to explode.
"Good gods!" Yuusuke said, swallowing hard to keep from throwing up. "A prismatic wardrobe !"
He wasn't kidding. The man sitting across from them eating a banana-split pizza was wearing the most impossible garment in all three worlds. It was of all colors, specifically the worst possible shades thereof, and they shifted and flickered like strobe lights and liquid crystal. It wasn't just clashing; it was all-out war.
His partner seemed almost mundane by comparison. He was almost too tall to fit his legs under the table, and his skin had an unusual reddish cast. He wore tight black shorts and a tank top of the same hue, and four swords were tattooed on his broad, heavily-muscled shoulders. His hair was silvery-white, and shaved on both sides; the rest was plaited in five cornrow braids that met in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He was, understandably, wearing polarized sunglasses. At the moment, he was eating a salad with a look of strange pleasure on his face, as though he had never tasted ordinary lettuce before. There was something hauntingly familiar about the both of them...
"Harlequin?" Kurama said, squinting against the glare. "Is that you?"
The exceptionally poorly-dressed man turned to gaze at them with eyes of luminous topaz. "Yup!" He said happily. "I'm incognito!"
"Not in that getup." Yuusuke laughed. "Who's your buddy?"
"You truly don't know?" The red man rumbled, removing his shades. "This is a better disguise than I thought." His eyes were large, black, and faceted.
"Weenie?" Hiei said, eyes lighting up.
"Bully!" The Piper replied, standing up and sweeping Hiei into a huge bear hug.
He nearly fell over, so he had to put Hiei down in something of a hurry. "Watch what you're doing, you great lummox!" Hiei snapped.
"Sorry." Piper said, steadying himself on the back of a chair. "I'm used to having four legs and a tail, so my balance isn't that good at the moment."
An evil glint came to Hiei's eyes. Standing up as tall as he could, he gave the Piper a light shove with one hand. With a yelp of surprise, the co-ruler of the Shattered Lands fell flat on his back. Hiei grinned and sat on his chest.
"Aaah! Rotten fire-child!" The Piper sputtered in mock fury. "Your toenails to be trimmed with a six-foot lochaber axe! May your underwear drawer be invaded by slime molds! Nasty little bully!"
"Weenie." Hiei responded calmly.
"Bully!"
"Weenie!"
"Bully!"
With a whimper, Yuusuke slid under the table.
Kuwabara turned to the Harlequin, who had gone back to his pizza. "What's with the disguises?" He asked.
"Practice." The 'Quin replied. "Piper wants to be able to visit the Ningenkai again, but he can't do it while he looks like something out of a nightmare. He'll still attract attention, but at least this way he'll attract cops instead of the Ghostbusters. He hasn't quite gotten all the details right, though."
"And you? You look like a psychotic disco on drugs."
"I'm keeping him company, of course. Whee! It's like Halloween, but different. Have some pizza? It's really good."
Kuwabara eyed the stuff on the 'Quin's plate with deep suspicion. "No thanks." He said with mild disgust. "Fudge sauce and mozzarella cheese just don't mix."
"Suit yourself. Mmm! Banana-licious!"
"Bleah."
Meanwhile, the Piper had pulled his little buddy off of his front by the scruff of the neck and was hauling himself to his feet. He swayed uncertainly, scowling at the floor. "How do you bipeds manage to keep upright?" He asked Kurama. "Why aren't you falling over all the time?"
"We keep our weight right under us." Yuusuke answered for Kurama, coming out from under the table.
The Piper though hard about it for a moment, and then realization crept over his face like the light of dawn. "Oh! It's the inner ear, isn't it?"
"Yes, I think so." Kurama said.
A small change was made, and the Piper seemed much more balanced now. "Yeah, that's much better. Hey!"
Hiei had hooked a foot around Piper's in an attempt to trip him up again.
"Anyway," The Harlequin said, breaking up the impending brawl. "I'm glad you guys are here. Might we team up with you? We've only got three in ours, and for some reason nobody else wants to join us."
"I don't see why not." Yuusuke said. Where's your third guy?"
"Queep!"
"Oh, no..."
Sure enough, there was Norkie, nibbling on the Piper's leftover salad. The little ginger fluffball turned to face them, drew his tiny sword, and struck a dramatic pose. "Fizz! Yah! Queep!"
'Quin smiled. "I introduce to you the one and only Ninja Norkie."
Norkie bowed as gracefully as was possible for a small round fuzzy thing, resheathed his sword, and leaped lightly onto Hiei's head and started combing his hair and purring.
Kurama tactfully removed the small strange furry thing before Hiei could explode. "What the hell." Hiei growled. "Maybe somebody will put the little rat out of my misery during the Tourney."
"Fizz! Yah!"
Getting to the Registration Kiosk was no problem, for all the noise and confusion, but it was with some relief that they entered the Colosseum. It was quiet here, and the tall marble walls offered
a cool shade that was a welcome break from the oppressive heat outside. The Kiosk itself was a pagoda-like structure, with an official-looking demon and his secretary sitting at their desks inside. The registrar looked up at them with a definite lack of enthusiasm and brought out pen, paper, and a glass jar. "Names?" He said shortly.
"Yuusuke."
"Kuwabara."
"Kurama."
"Hiei."
"I'm the Piper."
"Harlequin."
"Fizz Queep."
"What?" The registrar said, looking quizzically at Norkie.
"He says he's Ninja Norkie." Kurama translated.
The registrar grunted, tore the paper he had written their names on into strips, and dropped them into the jar. He then handed them a key and several strips of blue cloth. "The Tournament starts tomorrow," He grated. "You're the blue team, and you are to report to the blue locker room at eight o'clock AM. Don't oversleep."
The first thing they did after registering was hunt down a place to rent a tent from. They found an Ox-spirit who was in that business and haggled mercilessly for a nice stripey waterproof one, and picked up a few blankets and things from the shop next door as well. They staked out a plot on the lee side of the Colosseum (Kurama insisted, as the nightly summer thunderstorms around here were unbelievable), set up their tent, warded it against thieves and the incurably curious, and went to amuse themselves in the crowd.
An impromptu marketplace had grown up between the tents and the sparring areas, and they strolled casually through it, looking at the goods presented. Kuwabara was drawn to the display of protective charms; bits of ensorcelled crystals and semi-precious stones wrapped skillfully in gold, silver, and copper wire and strung on braided silk cords. "I bet that Yukina would like one of these." He said a bit dreamily.
Hiei threw him a black glare, but was ignored. Hiei decided not to make an issue of it, though. Yukina could use the extra protection, even if it was offered by this carrot-headed son of a cockroach. He turned his attention back to the display of skinning knives at another booth.
Kurama examined the pendants and snorted softly. "Trash, mostly." He told his lovesick teammate. "Trinkets at best. Most of them have incomplete or badly-done enchantments. They'll conk out in a real crisis, mark my words."
Kuwabara was crushed. "Don't any of them work?"
Kurama, feeling a little sorry for him, took a closer look. "This one seems to have some depth to it." He said, picking up a slice of deep green malachite wrapped in gold.
"Perfect!" Kuwabara breathed. "How much is it?"
"They don't take Ningen cash here. Will you be paying me back anytime soon, should I get it for you?"
Kuwabara winced, but agreed. A few minutes later, he had it tucked in his pocket, and he wandered once again with the others in search of amusement. They did notice that they had lost the Harlequin somewhere in the crowd, but the Piper told them not to worry. The 'Quin could take care of himself, after all. They watched a marvelously silly pantomime, wagered a coin or two on a moa race, and studied the other combatants. These were easily recognizable from the way they moved,
their method of speech, and from the way they draped themselves in blood-chilling weaponry and spandex. They were studied in turn, and Yuusuke and Kuwabara could not help strutting just a little. Hiei found this amusing. "What a pair of peacocks!" He snickered. "And a peacock, after all, is nothing but a dressed-up turkey."
Kuwabara, predictably, took grave offense to this observation. "Who are you calling a turkey, you sawed-off little pipsqueak?"
Yuusuke merely rolled his eyes as the two started fencing with Rei Sword and Katana. He was used to being insulted by Hiei, and was generally too good-natured to get really angry about it.
"Queep." Suggested Norhe.
"He says: 'Let's move these yahoos to the sparring grounds.'" Kurama translated.
"Sounds good to me." The Piper replied, picked up a long pole, and started herding Kuwabara and Hiei towards an empty field.
The others followed his example. "'Scuse us!" They called. "Hot soup! Melee coming through !"
They got some funny looks from the passers-by, but a path did open for them. The fight was getting a bit serious when they reached the field, so Kurama and Yuusuke decided to do something about it. They filled a couple of buckets from a nearby well, carried them over to the fight, and promptly inundated the fighters.
"Aaaah!" Hiei did not like water. "Fox! Why you... Aaargh! Stupid fox!"
Kuwabara didn't like getting wet either, and showed them the length and breadth of his repertoire of obscenities.
Yuusuke just smiled. "C'mon, you two. We need you both to be whole and alive for the Tourney!"
"We've got seven people. We can spare just one..." Hiei growled wetly.
"And I know who that one is!" Snapped Kuwabara, Rei sword blazing anew.
This time, the Piper dumped a whole barrel of ice water on them. "ENOUGH!" He barked. "Bully, you are a bad boy. Kuwabara, you are a touchy spud. Stop it or I'll spank the both of you-both at once! Now behave!"
"You wouldn't!" Hiei said, genuinely stunned.
Wordlessly, the Piper held out his hands. They shimmered strangely, and then became visible as they truly were; Four large, scarlet-skinned hands with eight claw-tipped fingers and thickly calloused, muscular palms. "Try me." He said in final tones as his hands shimmered back into human shape.
Hiei and Kuwabara shared an unhappy look and edged carefully away from each other. They did not need to go into battle tomorrow with sore behinds and bruised egos.
A commotion erupted from another sparring ground, startling them all. A thick crowd had gathered over there, cheering heartily. Curious, our heroes went to investigate. They soon learned the reason for all the cheering. Yomi stood at one end of the court, a cruel steel-tipped cat-o-nine tails held in one hand. At the other end stood the Harlequin, armed with a huge blueberry pie and a fistful of confetti. Kurama's face was nearly split in half by his grin. "I see a confetti wedgie coming." He murmured.
Just then, something strange happened. Two girls dragged a young man onto the sidelines. He had been crammed into a stripey black and red cheerleaders' outfit, his long brown hair had been tied up in pigtails with red and black ribbons, and he clutched a pair of pompons in his hands. His face was a mask of agonized embarrassment. "Do I have to do this?" He moaned.
"Yes!" One girl said evilly. "Or else Heero keeps that morphic instability curse!"
"Just do it, Duo." The other added. "Changing into other forms every minute or so will drive him nuts after a while."
Duo made a face and started jumping up and down and waving the pompons around. "Harley, Harley, he's our man! If we can't do it, he sure can! Gooooo, 'Quin!!"
The Harlequin gave them a disgusted look and turned to Yomi. "Excuse me a moment." He said, putting the confetti away.
"Be my guest." Yomi replied pleasantly, leaning against a handy pole.
The Harlequin took a few steps toward his unexpected cheerleading team and threw the pie. Somehow it became three pies in midair and struck home on all three faces with a big purple SPLATT!!
"Right!" Duo snapped, dropping the pompons and wiping blueberries out of his eyes. "Rei, Deven, we're going home now. If Heero's still a penguin or something when we get there, I'm gonna get into my Gundam and show you both what a curse really is!" He grabbed them both by their shirts and pulled them away through the crowd.
"Cameo?" Kuwabara asked the Piper.
"Cameo." Piper replied.
Yomi and the 'Quin resumed their sparring, which went rather predictably. Harlequin walked off the field with a badly shredded cape, and Yomi limped off with bananas in his ears and confetti leaking out of his pant legs. Kurama was leaning on Hiei's shoulder and guffawing hysterically. He really didn't like Yomi.
It wasn't long before the sun began to sink and sky was darkened by a rolling horde of thunderheads. Kurama cast an appraising eye upwards at the looming clouds. We'd better catch a quick meal and head back to the tent." He said. "Tonight's storm looks like it means business."
A grumble of thunder reinforced his suggestion, so they all converged on the cafe that had furnished them with lunch. The wind was blowing fast and cold when they reached the place, and the first spatters of rain were falling as they ate. It was a fair trek to the tent, and they didn't want to catch the full brunt of the storm right in the teeth. Yuusuke shifted uneasily on his seat when a crackling explosion of thunder sounded outside. "Let's bag the rest of this up and make a run for the tent. I really don't want to walk through this."
"Grab some sake on the way out." Hiei added. "I've got a feeling that we're going to need it."
The wind was howling like a pack of wolves when they left the cafe, and they headed out at a dead run. They weren't the only ones; people who were unfamiliar with the local weather were scrambling like mad to get out of it, probably frightened by the way the lightning kept lancing down out of the sky and crisping things. This storm was going to be a real doozy. Our heroes made it to their tent unscathed but wet and badly rattled. The Harlequin fastened the tent flap behind them and
glued it shut for good measure as everybody sat down and wrung out their shirts. Hiei had been right about the sake. There was just enough to go around. "Whoah!" Kuwabara exclaimed when his balance deserted him, along with his sense of caution. "That's good stuff!"
"Hic!" Hiei agreed and snuggled up in Kurama's lap.
"Quergh." Norkie muttered, waving his feet in the air.
Yuusuke scowled unevenly at one tent wall. "Is it just me, or is the tent vibrating?"
"It's vibrating." The Harlequin said, swinging lazily from his inverted perch at the top of the tent. "Whee! This is just like spin cycle!"
Kurama wasn't paying attention, since he had found something more interesting to watch. "Piper, how come you're two people at once? You've gone all shimmery."
With a hiccup, the Piper returned to his natural shape. "'S the booze. Can't concentrate on bein' humanoid if my brain's gone in five directions at once."
"You're crowding the tent." Yuusuke said grumpily.
The Piper curled up into a somewhat smaller coil in the far corner. "Better?"
"Yeah. Anybody got an alarm clock? Hoy! 'Quin, that's really a clock?! All right, if you say so. 'Night, everybody."
It was a little more difficult to get to sleep than they thought. Hardly ten minutes later, the storm started to seriously put its back into it. The tent rattled and rocked and made a heroic effort to
fly off to Oz, or just into the nearest forest. The sake and the sheer dead weight of the team helped, though.
The next day dawned bright and sunny, with the birds chirping the dawn chorus in thin sweet voices. The dew shone like diamonds scattered on the grass, and the air was squeaky-clean and smelled of fresh wildflowers. Clouds like wads of creamy mashed potatoes sculled serenely through an azure sky while the wind sighed like parted lovers through the trees. This beautiful, fragile morning scene was abruptly shattered by the most unbelievable collection of ear-shattering beeps,
honks, toots, whistles, and the sound of someone vigorously gargling Gershwin.
"Harlequin!!" Yuusuke's anguished voice carried even above the cacophony. "Shut off that thrice-damned clock!"
Hiei was more than happy to oblige. "Jyaoh Ensatsu Kokuryuu-mrrph!"
He was interrupted by a large, eight-fingered hand clapping over his mouth. The Piper grunted sourly and shut it off for him. It's very hard for an alarm to go off when it's got a couple of oversized katanas stuck in it. The horrible contraption died with a squeal of stricken bagpipes and deflated pathetically on the floor. He reached up with a free hand, grabbed the 'Quin by the horns and yanked sharply, causing the stripey maniac to land on his head with a most satisfying thud.
Norkie clambered down from his perch on the Piper's middle shoulders, jumped up and down on the deflated clock a few times, and then climbed back up to his nest. "Queeph." He muttered sleepily.
The Harlequin's topaz eyes blinked open, and he stretched long and luxuriously. "Ah, what a nice night!" He said. "Good morning, everyone!"
Six and a half pairs of bleary eyes glared at him from the heap in the corner. During the night, someone had suggested that the storm was like an invading enemy- or at least sounded like one, and that they should all fort up. The Piper had already fallen asleep in a loose coil at that point, so they grabbed all their blankets and settled in. It was a bit like sleeping in a leather-upholstered basket chair that smelled of allspice. "It is not a good morning." Grumped Hiei, who was feeling the effects of last night's sake.
"And it wasn't a nice night, either." Kuwabara muttered.
Yuusuke sat up with a groan and ran his fingers through his messy hair. "Jeez, whatta storm. I want a pair of pilot's wings for lasting through that one. I swear that we only spent fifteen minutes on the ground all through the night!"
"Yuusuke, you only get pilot's wings for a controlled flight in an actual aircraft." Kurama said, absently scratching Hiei behind the ears.
"It was a genuine flying tent." Yuusuke said huffily. "Besides, it was a controlled flight. I wasn't screaming."
The Piper chortled deep in his chests. "Maybe. You're the one with a watch, boyo. What time is it?"
"Six-thirty AM. And you're still crowding the tent."
The Piper heaved a long, fluting sigh and carefully uncoiled. "My, aren't we a grumpy boy this morning?" He said. "Come, Bully, let's find Ferret here a mug of coffee."
"Ferret?!" Yuusuke exclaimed.
Hiei started snickering. "You got it, Weenie."
"Now stop that!"
The Piper ignored Yuusuke's angry protests and tried to open the tent flap. "'Quin, where's the glue solvent?"
The Harlequin shrugged. "Search me, I- yow!"
Norkie pounced their clownish teammate and did just that. When he was finished, the 'Quin was sulking, but the solvent had been discovered. "Queep!"
"Queep yourself, you mutant gerbil." 'Quin muttered.
"Thpppbbbtt!"
Yuusuke was not having a good breakfast. The food was good and the tables were clean, but the company was being a pain in the ass. The Piper was back in disguise again, but it didn't stop him from flicking shrimps at Hiei, who was flicking them right back. It's not easy to eat when there's a game of shrimp-pong going on right next to your plate. What made it worse was that the others were cheering them on indiscriminately and occasionally swiping a shrimp or two right out of the air. If that wasn't bad enough, they were calling each other names again. "Hey! It's my serve, Bully!"
"Wait 'till lunch, Weenie."
"Bully!"
"Weenie !"
"Bully!"
"Weenie !"
Suffice it to say, Yuusuke was ready to hide under the table again, and he was determined to take the coffee with him. Kurama nudged him in the side as he was reaching for the carafe. "Here," Kurama whispered and handed him a small box. "These may come in handy."
Inside the box was, glory of glories, a pair of earplugs. Yuusuke wasted no time putting them in, and he was able to eat without trouble. Oh, blessed silence! Hiei and Piper glared at him when they saw that he wasn't about to slide off his seat anymore, so he gave them a big toothy grin and went back to his rice.
At seven thirty, they tied the blue cloth strips to their arms and made their way to their locker rooms in the Colosseum. It was just as well that they arrived early; some idiot had forgotten to put up any maps in the hallways, so nobody knew where to go. It was Hiei who found out where the blue locker room was by the simple method of grabbing the first official-looking person they happened upon and beating the information out of him. "Crude, but effective." Was Kurama's only comment.
Yuusuke was still wearing the earplugs and that silly, slightly smug smile that went along with them as they explored the neatly tiled room. The Piper and Hiei were more than a little miffed by this. They withdrew off into one corner and started discussing the situation.
"What are you two up to now?" Kuwabara asked suspiciously.
All he got in answer was a pair of evilly-fanged grins.
"Never mind, I don't wanna know."
The two plotters seemed to agree on something, and went on a search for certain specific tools. Five minutes, two sheets of posterboard, and a marker later, Hiei and the Piper positioned themselves in front of Yuusuke. Dramatically, the Piper raised his sheet of posterboard. It had the word "Bully!" written on it in scarlet ink.
Hiei raised his. "