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Back in Kaijurocho, Gyao Shin Kaneyama sat in a cold interrogation room, her arms cuffed behind her back and her wings wrapped in a thick leathery sack against the chair. Her mouth was covered by a steel cage of energy-dampening steels, still allowed to talk but with no means of shooting her sonic beam as she stared towards the glass window reflecting her expression.

Entering the room came Sgt. Detective Murata, a folder beneath his arm as the demonic kaiju kept her smile under her cage. Her eyes of gold flickered beneath her V-shaped head, the tortoise pulling up a chair from across the table and slapping down the gruesome photos of Tsuchimura's head.

"Damn," she shook her head, "who's the artist? They really captured the look of fear an' despair I made sure she had when she died."

"So you admit it," Murata said, "no remorse, still?"

"I told you before when you arrested me last month, I cut that bitch up like an ikinari steak, what, you too chicken to throw me in jail?"

"Your case is still pending, the courts are backed up at the moment, I hope you understand."

"Or you know, you could just have a little 'accident' and have me dead in my cell...not like any of you fucks would look too closely if the Host snuffed herself."

"I'm here to ensure you pay for your sentence," Murata clasped his hands, "whatever your motive, whatever your reason, you will pay the fullest price under the laws of this country-"

She kicked the table hard with a jolt and leaned back.

"Could you even TRY to be a little fucking dirty once in your life?! GODS you fucking piss me off, every time we been doing these talks it's all 'laws of the country' and 'pay for my sentence', where's the fuckfaced pig that beats a confession outta me huh?!"

"I'm not playing your game Kaneyama," said Gaho shaking his head, "I already have what I need to convict you, I'm just here to make you understand the suffering you've spread."

"Go to the fucking temple then, fuck if I knew being arrested was this boring I wouldn't've bothered with killing!"

"Is that it? Really?" He stood up turning to the window. "How pathetic. That you're so needy for attention you would rob others of their lives."

"Yeah I'm a real bitch," Gyao Shin grinned sitting up, "and here I am, all alone, with your partner behind the glass who's probably not gonna squeal on you if you decide I 'fell down the stairs' in a locked room."

"What did you want out of this?" Murata looked back to her. "Was it the power from taking another's life? Was it a vendetta you had against eighteen different kaiju-"

"That you know of," she waggled her brows, "yanno what's fun about the homeless? They can't ask anyone for help, they make real funny sounds when you punch little holes in 'em-"

She jumped slightly when Murata slammed his fist on the desk. His eyes burned into hers as he clenched his jaw with tightening tusks.

"Do you not have a single shred of ANYTHING left in your vile heart?"

"I always had the heart of a child," Gyao Shin looked up wistfully, "kept it on my desk, HAH, s-sorry I had to that's a fave joke of mine-"

"You are going to be tried for murder, EIGHTEEN counts, do you have nothing to say in your defence?!"

"Well, yeah but you don't give a shit do you? You already marked me out, you know I did it, nothing I'm gonna say'll change the fact I'm going to prison."

"You seem rather content about that."

"Mmm, I'm done with life," she shrugged, "you think I got some sad backstory, or that I'm mentally-ill or some shit?"

"Don't insult me." Murata stood up straightening his shirt. "I know you're fully competent, and well-aware of all that you did, which ninety-eight percent of murderers are, that's easy enough to prove."

"So why do you fucking care what motivates me?" the criminal scoffed rolling her head. "I'm the worst fucking bitch you ever met in your life, Murata-kun, if you murdered me right now, beat me, hell shove your dick in my throat, NO ONE would give a fuck...know what I'm saying?"

She licked her beak beneath the steel cage as Murata cringed with disgust, causing her to cackle and kick her feet.

"Awww did I upset mister toitle-kun? You don't know what to do with a nasty lady with a mouth that makes you blush, you can't just slap me around like you would a guy cuz that'd make you look like a reaaaaal bastard!"

"Hm...you're right," Gaho chuckled, "a sad little girl just shouting her head off when all I had to do was put the cuffs on you."

"Huh?!"

"I have to make sure to do my job right, you never laid a hand on me after all."

"BULLSHIT!" she lurched up pulling the seat with her. "I beat the fuck outta you!"

"Oh, so you admit I can fight you?" Murata leaned his arms on his chair. "That means either I brought you in, or you came quietly."

"The FUCK I DID, I woulda gotten outta there!"

"So you ran away like a coward, not even be big enough to fight a cop, Mrs. Eighteen Murders."

"I HAD PLACES TO BE! IF IT WASN'T FOR YOU AND YOUR FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT CAR, I WOULDA GOTTEN AWAY!"

"You're not the killer," Gaho smiled looking back to the window, "I told you, she's not the killer, a real serial killer would've had a better escape strategy."

"HEY, SAY THAT TO MY FACE!" Kaneyama shrieked.

"I told you chief, she can't have done it, she's just a sad loser who's too stupid and petty to learn how to be famous the right way."

"YOU TOOK A FUCKING YEAR TO CATCH ME, NOW WHO'S THE LOSER?!"

"The one who has the worst teeth I've ever seen, seriously, they're disgusting."

"WHA-...the fuck you mean my teeth?!" she stomped her foot.

"Well just, we have this game in the office," Murata chuckled looking back, "we gather all the dental records of criminals we caught this year, and send them unmarked to the dentists so they can judge Who Has The Worst Teeth, and wow, yours IMMEDIATELY were judged worst."

"What, sh-shut up, you can't even see them under this!"

"The news is actually going wild, I don't know if you heard but, the paper tomorrow's going to be about how incompetent our police force was, because your teethmarks we got from your victims are so absolutely disgustingly putrid, that it's impossible to have had you on the system and never track you back to your filthy diseased jaws."

"THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH MY TEETH YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!"

"You thought the reason we had the cage on your beak was for the sonic beam?! No no, no, we have armours to protect ourselves for that, it was entirely because of your teeth-"

"_THOSE WEREN'T EVEN MY TEETH YOU FAT CUNT! _"

Murata clapped looking back to the screen. Sauressy smiled from the other side giving a thumbs-up unseen as Gyao Shin realised what she had said, clenching her eyes shut with a fuming scream she swallowed down her chest.

"You get that?" asked Gaho tapping the screen. "Just like I told you."

"NO, NO FUCK OFF WITH THAT SHIT!" Gyao Shin snapped standing up with the chair. "YOU MIXED ME UP, YOU FUCK, YOU FAT SHELLHEADED PIG!"

"Gods, can we arrest her again for racial abuse as well, her mouth's already gross enough with her teeth-"

"SH-SHUT UP ABOUT MY FUCKING TEETH!"

Gaho walked out with his folder, pleased at the result whilst Gyao Shin kicked and screamed even harder trying to lunge for the detective when she staggered against the table. He stepped into the observation room of a black rectangle space with listening devices and monitors, where Reed O'Sauressy stood chortling to himself, covering his mouth with a shuddering neck.

"Can't believe that worked, I cannot believe-khhhahaha!"

"You always find someone's true self when you argue with them," said Murata, "something I learned having to deal with vashers trying to convince young teens at the park."

"Hmhmm, hmmmm, does that happen a lot?"

"Thankfully no, but I learned to cut down their self-inflating arguments quick enough."

"So you were right then," Sauressy composed himself, "her teeth really don't match."

"By her own confession," Gaho nodded, "she murdered Tsuchimura, that we know, but I don't think she's the Host."

"Yeah the way she's shooting off her mouth I'm inclined to believe you, but why attack a Toho member?"

"Well considering Gerumba's testimony, there's definitely something with this Daiei Alliance involved."

"Are the Toho at war with them?" Reed crossed his arms watching Kaneyama scream.

"Not that I know of," Murata scritched his neck, "I'll need to check what the word on the street is."

With interrogations finished, they took Gyao Shin back to her holding cell with two guards escorting her. Most of the time the cells were for drunks and belligerents of petty crimes, but for those such as Kaneyama, she was taken past large steel doors to another higher-security door with additional locks. Guards were always posted, severe-looking lizards that opened the door to her cell as she was locked inside.

"I need to send a letter," she barked, "I still got a legit business to run."

"Oh yes," Murata rolled his eyes, "you should always pay your thugs."

"Go fuck yourself turtleneck, you giving me shit about my teeth when YOU got them fucking tusks?!"

"Hah, it took you that long to think that up, that's cute."

He closed the door on her and looked through its window.

"You'll get to send your letters out," said Sauressy leaning in, "the guard here will get you something, we'll check through it ourselves so-"

"Yeah yeah I know the drill," the winged killer sat on her bench, "I've been here before, maybe I should send one to little Jin-kun, tell her to buy some extra tampons."

"Why?"

"Cuz if turtleboy goes down on her she's gonna need a whole pack when those fuck-ass tusks keep stabbing her pussy, HAH, HHHAHAHAAA!"

They walked off in disgust, Sauressy shaking his head as Murata shrugged when they left the holding cells and headed back up to their office.

"What do we tell the chief?" asked the sea serpent. "He was really hoping we got the Host, he's gonna flip if you tell him otherwise."

"We'll just say we're following up on things," the tortoise nodded, "the news can go off all they want about their theories, there's nothing they can say that can harm this investigation now."

"So what does this mean? She let the Host bite her victim, like a mark?"

"It has to be. She must be covering for them, why else would she be owning up to eighteen murders?"

"I mean she could just be crazy-"

"We're not getting into this again, she's mentally competent and you know well as I do those with mental issues barely make up two-percent of criminals."

"I didn't mean THAT," Reed scoffed, "I meant just yanno, a psychopath, one of those types, anyways you didn't ask her about the Kurasawa body."

"We don't have anything to connect her to it," Murata shook his head, "he had no bite mark on the cheek, a different blade type as well, he feels completely different from the Host's usual MO."

"Could be her trying something new?"

"Again, we have nothing on her to connect that directly. Tsuchimura however, we definitely have, she was there at the time, she even kept the knife on her with Tsuchimura's blood matching-"

"And it's the same type of blade the Host uses."

"It is, but if she knows the Host, then she knows the type of blade...could be a matching pair."

"Murata-san."

A large hornet officer stopped him in the hall pointing to reception.

"You got a visitor, someone named Jin Gerumba?"

"Oh, thank you," he bowed as the wasp took his leave, "Sauressy you head back to the desk, I'll catch up with you."

"Alright," Reed nodded.

At the front of the station there was a waiting room next to reception, a colourful pleasant room with soft colours, old magazines and some children's toys with numbing plastic chairs that more felt like a hospital than the precinct. The only difference was the posters on the walls with basic advice to prevent being mugged, a phoneline for abuse victims and firm reminders what was illegal to carry on the streets. Jin Gerumba smiled at Gaho when he entered.

"Hello Murata-san," the copper triceratops bowed to him, "I hope I'm not bothering-"

"You never are," he smiled, "how are you?"

"I'm well thank you," she scratched her nasal horns, "I just...wanted to know if there was any developments about Kaneyama-"

"She's still in the cells, don't worry." He sat down beside her. "How's things been at Eye Behold You?"

"It's going well," she blushed, "same business as usual, no one's tried to hurt me and none of them from work have come to my house."

"That's good, that means they don't suspect a thing. You were very brave to help us, thank you again."

"Is she going to trial? It's not that I mind working for sex, it's just...well, my son needs me."

"We are doing everything we can," Murata patted her hand, "Kaneyama's a thread to something bigger, I need to pull it enough to make her give up something."

"Thank you." She took his hand with a squeeze. "I'm sorry, I wish I could be more help but everyone at the club's been so tight-lipped."

"That's fine, you've done more than enough. You still have my number?"

"Yes...um, Murata-san?" Jin shifted in her seat to look straight at him. "Am I...a bad mother?"

"Why do you ask?" Gaho raised his brow.

"All I wanted was to keep my son happy, like any mother, just so his life was free from any misery. I only became a sex worker because no one would take me, because I was running out of money and-"

"What about his father, was he not with you?"

"N-no...oh, I was a stupid thing, he...it was a party, I got a little drunk and one thing led to another, and then some months later I have a little baby boy."

"Did your family help you?"

"At first they did...but then the Daiei Alliance came and...they sold me." Her eyes drifted across the room. "I was always a little distant, focused too much on my studies-"

"What did you study in?" he sat up closer to Jin.

"Biology, I wanted to be a doctor, always liked hospitals and such."

"You didn't pursue that out of college?"

"I couldn't find a job," she sighed rubbing her hands, "my family they...made me work at the restaurant through everything, on top of providing for my son. Then when they fell in the red they sold me and my son to the Daiei Alliance."

"Why your son as well?" Murata blinked.

"They just didn't want to provide for him...my parents never liked my son because he was born out of wedlock."

"But they're perfectly happy selling you into what amounts to slavery?"

"You want to roll in the mud, you have to lie there," Jin shrugged, "that's what they told me. The Daiei Alliance knew they could control me by keeping my son, they don't hurt him but...you've seen what Kaneyama can do."

"I'm sorry." the turtle slumped his shoulders. "I wish I could help you more, but I swear I will do everything to bring your son back."

"I appreciate it Murata-san."

"If you want...after all this is done, I could help you with a referral and find jobs for you."

"Wait...what?" she looked up to him.

"You said you finished college, you have your degrees still?"

"I do, but-"

"Then I'll help you find a job," he patted her back, "I'll get some resources for you and a few tricks to get through the system easier, that way when you get your son back and you can leave the Daiei proper, you can start in a new job, I actually know some friends at a clinic who can refer you."

"You...oh my gods really, you'd do that?!"

"A lot of creatures forget what happen to victims after the crime. I don't want you to fall back into a vicious cycle, if not for your sake, then your son's. At the very least every child should have the right to a happy life, and well-provided with a good family."

"Th-...th-thank you."

She clutched her face and started to weep, overcome with a strange disturbing feeling of hope she had not felt in years that took her by surprise so strongly, that she broke down even further. She composed herself quickly with a shake of her head, and some tissues from her pocket to wipe her nasal horns.

"I'm...I'm sorry for being so much trouble-"

"You're not," Murata smiled, "it's my job to help."

They stood up and bowed to each other as he escorted her out.

"I'll call you if anything new comes up, and please, call me anytime if you have any problems."

"I will," she smiled, "thank you again."

Jin walked back with a police escort, a pain burning in her chest as she gasped swallowing her anguish. Murata never saw this as he returned back to his desk in the Homicide branch, but not before he bumped into chief Baruti Gondo in the midst of the hall.

"OH, s-sir, sorry!"

"Gah, dammit!"

He dropped a phone and a letter from his hand, scrabbling to pick up the old mobile phone first as Gaho picked up the letter which had an odd symbol resembling an eye in a trangle, with sharp daggers crossed beneath it.

"You alright sir?" the detective asked.

"Yeah yeah it's fine," he waved him back, "this old phone can handle a lot."

"Isn't that your backup one?"

"Yeah, would you believe I'm still having problems with my regular one."

"I can, haha, smartphones are always a-...what's this letter?"

"Oh, that's uh, Kaneyama's," Baruti snatched it back, "I was just having it checked before we send it out."

"Ahh yeah, she was whining about that...weird symbol."

"Yeah it's some logo for a club, gotta make sure it's legit," the chief pocketed it, "any progress on her by the way?"

"Sauressy's writing the report," Gaho thumbed back, "I just had Gerumba visit me because she wanted updates."

"Ahh, is she alright?"

"She's doing fine, still working, the Daiei still don't know she helped us capture Kaneyama, which is good."

"Glad to hear. Alright, I'll let you go about your business."

"Yes chief. Sorry again."

The turtle bowed and made his way back up to his desk, Sauressy still writing on new details concerning the interrogation. Once they were both ready, they left the report in Chief Gondo's letterbox at his door, before their shift was finally over.

Out on the streets nearing the twilight eve, Gaho took his leave waving Sauressy off as they went their separate ways. The tortoise put on his best smile and walked down East Shachifuku, towards a small building right next to the Children's Park as the rumbling shudder of cars passed him by with a cold autumn wind, the sky of amber fading to a magenta hue. Down the steps of this small building he found a door lit by a single flickering lamp, knocking a very specific tune that allowed him entry.

"AH, Murata-san, good tidings please come in!"

"Howsit going Majuma-san?"

A walrus greeted him with long pale tusks and soft green eyes as she brought him through. Inside the basement was a large space of several old couches, a TV from last decade, two dartboards, a whiteboard, cardboard boxes littered around the sides and a ping-pong table set up in the middle. The only new thing was a sparkling logo spray-painted in thick graffiti, titled GO-WRATHS in sharp electric blue with emerald sparks zapping underneath.

The sound of a ball and paddles filled the room with incessant clacking, back and forth in a rapid pace as two contestants faced off against each other with determined grin. One was a large hairy kaiju in a mechanic's suit, with the head of a two-horned beetle and the body of a mole with giant claws that gripped the paddle.

His opponent was a dark blue-furred squirrel with devil horns, leathery wings and a tail that ended in a mace, all wrapped up in a red hoodie and a mask as she lithely dodged to counter his shots.

"Come on, hit me harder!"

"You're too slow old guy, c'mon!"

"I'm not letting some punkass beat me, take THIS!"

With a wild slash of his thick claws he threw the entire table up in the air, spinning hard into the wall with a crunch as the squirrel laughed clapping her hands.

"YEAAAAH TWO FOR TWO!"

"Ugh, Zura-san!" the walrus cried. "I just repaired that table last month, could you PLEASE control your upshots?!"

"Or like trim your nails, seriously they're gross."

"You think I got time fer that?!" the mole-beetle swung his fist. "Some of us actually work fer a living getting oil under our fingers, not piss around vandalising the streets."

"How dare you!" snapped Majuma. "I served my parole and have not graffiti'd any public place in the past two years, much to the chagrin of my artistic muse-"

"Yes and we're thankful for it," Murata stepped over to the fallen table, "howsit going gang?"

"Ehhh pretty good," the squirrel shrugged, "caught any more murderers this week?"

"You know I can't say," Gaho lifted the table back on its legs, "we leave our work outside."

"Exactly," Majuma stepped over to the whiteboard, "we're all allies here in the great sport of kings Monda-san-"

"Yeaaah I know I'm just joshing," Monda waved her hand, "SO, who's up first?!"

"That shall be you," the walrus brought out a marker pen and wrote down their names, "the latest postings are thus. We managed to break through the preliminaries so now we have three other teams to contest with before we reach the finals. The Fuku-Fires, the Blades, and the Shin-Zan-Ken."

"Our team name's just as stupid as theirs," said the beetle crossing his hairy arms.

"Now the Fuku-Fires," said Majuma scribbling the tourney map, "they have great power spins but they lack control, so that's why I'm putting Monda out first so they can't recover. Murata-san you follow up, trick them with your own power spin to really unbalance them. Then come the Blades, Zura-san that's your cue, I shall assist."

"Got it, I like teamin' up with you more then this punk-"

"A-AH, we are allies here, let's not be ageist. Now the real danger here is Shin-Zan-Ken, they are a daring trio who have learned to cover each other's weaknesses so we must counter back."

"Don't we only fight two of them?" Monda scratched her head. "We just gotta know who ain't playing and work from that right?"

"That was exactly my idea yes," the walrus clapped her flippers, "Murata I expect you to be our secret weapon."

"No pressure big guy," Zura elbowed the turtle's side, "you an' me, we're gonna sweep the damn place!"

"Long as you don't break the table," Gaho snorted, "though they nail those down at the tournaments."

"They had to because of him," the squirrel poked the beetle, "either way, we gonna smoke them bitches!"

"Damn right. Never thought I'd be entering the Tokyo-Ping Pong championships but it's been kind of exciting."

"The world of Ping-Pong is truly a tantalising experience," said Majuma bowing to him, "I am so thankful you took up my offer, now let's do some practice runs before our time is up. And Zura-san, please, pull back on the swings this is our last table."

"Fiiine," the mole-creature shrugged his huge claws, "y'all ain't ready for me at my best."

"So why you keep showing us your worst?" Monda cackled thumbing her face.

"Keep up that talk li'l lady and you'll be flying across the Atlantic."

For the next two hours they practiced their techniques, sharpening their topspins and honing down their grip changes. Monda was an expert at flicking the ball and quick-turning its trajectory, but she had a tendency to fly over the table without hitting the surface which resulted in her losing a point. Zura was all power, and while his short serves were devastating like a cannon, they always flew straight as an arrow, and a player fast enough could counter with ease.

Majuma was a technical player, slow but methodical with striking backspins that gave her ultimate control, but reduced the speed of the back-and-forth. While she was left wide open to brutal power strikes like Zura's, if she could control the pace, then she could win the match. Then there was Murata, whose expertise was in counter-attacks, particularly with the fast forehand where he served the ball semi-long and bounce it just close to the table's edge to trick his opponents.

The night would end without further incident, his skills sharpened for the first match tomorrow as he went straight home on the bus, and dropped into bed with sore arms beneath the black starless sky, over the roofs of Tokyo's neon sea. Morning would come as he rose up with a sigh of relief, the sun not yet greeting him as the first slivers of orange creaked from beyond, taking a long pleasant shower over his thick glistening shell and belly.

Today was Murata's off-day, something he had negotiated for the sake of the tournament as he took a rare moment to be just plain Gaho, and not Sgt. Detective Murata. He spent the first few hours in his house, putting on his regular clothes of a basic white shirt and slacks. watching daytime TV and chuckling at the tedious conversations whilst savouring a good quiet breakfast, a light salad with sashimi. Once the sun was truly up, he headed out to Kaijurocho to meet up with the Go-Wraths.

"Majuma-san?" he knocked at the door. "I'm here for the tourney-"

"OH THANK GODS!" The door swung open and she pulled him in quick. "Oh Murata-san it's terrible, the worst situation possible, the beginning of our path to greatness already battered by the storms of tribulation-"

"HEY, calm down." The tortoise grabbed her arms. "What happened, where's Monda and Zura?"

"Well, Zura is being held up by a frustrating client, and Monda is nowhere to be seen! I've tried calling her but she won't pick up, she almost always replies, and we have to be at the tourney in two hours I, I-i, I-HHHHH!"

The walrus pulled herself away and grabbed a paper bag, hyperventilating fast as the bag swelled and slackened around her tusks.

"I'll go find Monda," said Gaho patting her shoulder, "you keep posted on Zura and tell him I arrived."

"Th-thank you, Murata-san," she mumbled in the bag.

"Do you know where she usually lives?"

"W-well," Majuma let the bag hang off her tusk, "last I heard she was going to Kaijuro Hills to 'test her flatland tricks' or whatever that sort of thing is."

"Alright, I'll check that out, I'll call you if anything happens."

Heading back out on the street, Gaho went to the Park Boulevard where he had a sneaking suspicion of Monda's whereabouts. He had noticed in the past month that she had scuffed knees and battered elbows, the classic signs of a skateboarder of which he knew the front of Kaijuro Hills was a popular hangout spot for them.

Sure enough he found a small group of twenty-somethings whooping it up, a motley crew of shirts and hoods where dogs, cats, crustaceans and reptiles were all practicing their tricks. They jumped over the ramps kickflipping boards under their feet, grinded down rails on the trucks between their wheels, and promptly landed face first much to the cackling of their friends.

"AWHAWWW, duuuude!"

"Guh, nah I'm good, s'alright!"

"I told you, you gotta fix your trucks."

"Naw naw it ain't them I just-"

"Come on lemme see."

There he saw Monda, taking an iguana's skateboard and flipping it over as she pulled out a screwdriver from her fanny pack and tightened up the wheels.

"Alright, try it now."

The reptile took another shot at grinding the rails, the wheels scraping down the hard steel without a problem as the youth landed easily on the street, pumping his fist as he rolled on by. Monda took up her own board, the blue squirrel bracing herself for a jump by pulling the board up with her feet underneath. She leapt onto the low wall and skid across the top using only two wheels much to a rapturous applause.

"WHOOO Monda!"

"YEAH KICK IT GIRL!"

"You like that shit?!" she pumped her fist. "How about THIS?!"

With a daring maneuver she quickly turned her board to the side to try and spin it around in a circle under her feet, swivelling it behind her as she tried to jump backwards onto the other end of the board in a hopefully impressive feat. Then she felt the wheels slip too far forwards and it shot up immediately into the sky like a rocket, whilst Monda fell hard onto the wall.

Her back crunching the stone made the audience cringe with laughter, as she rolled down onto the street with a groaning pant. Then came the board hurtling down to clonk upon her face, and the crowd laughed even harder, almost doubled over in pain as Monda stood up and bowed like a circus master, a large grin of her burst gums and cracked teeth almost resembling a cartoon.

"HOHOHHH SHIT GIRL!"

"Thank youuuu thank you!" she gave fingerguns to her comrades. "Hope y'all liked that shit, I'll get it next time!"

"Dude come that's like the fifth time ya fucked up!"

"I'm gonna GET it yo, just gimme sum time, the Mondo Monda's gonna be the biggest shit you ever seen!"

"More like the biggest shit-FACED!"

"HEY!"

She made a joking lunge as the skaters reared back, all of them cackling as she waved them off before heading straight over to Murata, who stood tapping his foot on the street.

"Enjoying yourself?" he smiled down at her. "Majuma-san's been panicking all morning, we've got two hours before the tourney."

"Yeah I know sheesh, it's two hours, plenty time fer me to practice my tricks."

"Putting yourself in hospital before the match is not sensible-"

"C'mon dude, you're not my dad, and you're not on duty."

Heading back down East Shachifuku, Monda stretched her wounded back with a few pops and a gasping twitch.

"Don't let Zura-san see you like this," Gaho said, "he won't let you live it down."

"Live what down?" she snorted putting back on her mask.

"Stretching and groaning like an old-timer, in the month I've known you I have never seen you without a new bruise."

"You gotta suffer fer your art," she spread her arms wide, "and my art well, it's just gotta have a few tweaks."

"I admit I prefer your skateboarding over Majuma's graffiti, if only because I don't have to clean it off the walls."

"Unless I bail too hard off a ramp, eyyy!" she popped her tongue out behind the mask. "Didn't see you laugh at me though."

"Because I'm not terrible," Murata rolled his eyes, "but your friends seem to love it."

"Hey, we all fuck up, it's just part of life, sometimes you gotta laugh it off and that's what I'm here to teach."

"Hmm...well, that's a pretty good philosophy, can't argue with that, but getting yourself hurt so often-"

"I got it Murata-san, it's cool. Besides...I'm gonna make you laugh one day, and that's how I know I peaked."

"Wait, why?"

"Ehhh...I'll tell ya. When you laugh."

She tapped her head with a knowing look as they arrived at the Go-Wraths HQ, Magumi still hyperventilating into her bag before she threw it aside on seeing Monda.

"OH, thank the gods where have you been?!"

"Sorry," the squirrel shrugged, "had to nail down some moves and I turned off my phone to not get distracted."

"Why would you do that we need to be in sync, there's an hour and forty-seven minutes before the game!"

"Yeah, that's like two hours away, chill."

"Any word from Zura-san?" asked the turtle.

"The traffic is clearing up," the walrus sighed rubbing her head, "there was an accident apparently, no one hurt thank goodness."

"That's good, alright should we do some reps before training?"

They nodded as the walrus went over to a small MP3 dock and tapped on some pumping jams to excite the muscles. Monda did some skipping exercises to hot-foot it across the room, Gaho stretched his arms and legs to limber up, whilst Magumi did long lunges with her flippered feet. An hour passed as the mole-beetle came at last through the door, groaning with a heave as he sat down to drink some water.

"Everything alright?" Murata asked.

"Yeah uh, y-yeah," Zura gasped rubbing his head, "sorry fer the wait, traffic problems."

"What happened exactly?"

"Uhhh, two cars had a hit, no one hurt just, one of them was due an MOT haha."

"Oh, lucky them they had you as a mechanic on the scene."

"Oh yeah yeah, I gave some advice," Zura rubbed his neck, "so we ready for the match?"

"We most certainly are," Majuma clicked off her MP3, "do you remember your fundamentals?"

"I been goin' over them in the car, I getcha, let's just get it over with."

"Is something wrong?" She walked over to him with a tender flipper. "Normally you're quite-"

"I'M FINE I JUS-...ugh."

Zura pinched his small beetle face with the tips of his claws, groaning as Murata noticed soft flecks of tears trickling out between his fingers. Murata sat beside him and seeing he didn't want to talk, decided to change the subject.

"So I have a friend with a car," he began, "it's this old thing called a Pike, American brand?"

"Oh, yeah those things," Zura nodded with a smile, "they got a hardy engine with a dent-resistant shell."

"The carburettor sounds bad on it."

"Not surprised, they suck ass, you have to rebalance the damn thing every month."

"I can always tell when he's been working on it," Murata smiled leaning back, "like clockwork, I keep telling him to get a new car, but he's so endeared to it, it the second he ever bought and won't take any others."

"American cars are always so boxy and loud," the mole-beetle rolled his beady eyes, "never give a damn about pulling the power back, it's all them damn roads they have an' all that space, they're spoilt I tell ya! Just think the entire road's theirs, you ever seen a Merrick?"

"I haven't no."

"Well lemme show you."

Distracting Zura from his blues, Murata talked shop with him about cars for the next hour, lightening him up enough that they could refocus and make their way down to the ping-pong tourney. At the community centre, the arena had been set up and the teams participating were ready and lining up for the small crowd of enthusiasts awaiting the showdown of the year.

The tournament was set up in a rectangular room, a ping-pong table at the centre beneath a glaring spotlight, with sponsors lining the low wall surrounding it in a circle, behind which the fans waited in the dark. Stepping out in the middle was a muscular horse of flaming silver mane who brandished a mic with a cheesy grin.

"CRRRRREATUUUUURES AAAAND PATRONS, WELCOME TO THE FORTY-SEVENTH TOKYO PING-PONG CHAMPIONSHIPS, KAIJUROCHO QUARTER! WE GOT FOUR TEAMS RARING TO GO, SO I HOPE YOU ALL PICKED YOUR FAVOURITES! IN THIS CORNER, WE HAVE THE BURNING ROOKIES, HOT OFF THE PRESS AND HEATING UP THE ARENA! GIVE IT UP, FOR THE FUKUUUU-FIRES!"

Entering nearby were four creatures of various fiery builds, a young phoenix, an old centipede, a long-tailed dog and a bear with burning wings, all of whom wore orange shirts as they pumped fists at the crowd whooping them up.

"IN THIS CORNER, A MOTLEY CREW OF OUTCASTS UNITED BY THEIR GREAT LOVE FOR THE TABLE TENNIS, AND THEIR HEARTS CLENCHED WITH DETERMINATION! GIVE IT UP, FOR THE GOOOO-WRATHS!"

An equal amount of whooping was given to Murata's team as they stepped out wearing blue, waving with a smile as Magumi motioned Zura over to the table to be first up. The first round went by smooth, the mole-beetle's focus returned as he took on the bear who had a devastating backhand that always blasted the ball straight across the net. But Zura could give as hard as he took with a small but momentous tweak of the claws that let him divert the ball, just enough toisurprise the ursine into fumbling a few rounds.

In the tournament it was always best of 3 rounds, the first to reach 12 points winning each round, and whilst Zura had a few moments of weakness when an especially-savage ball came striking out towards him, he managed to break even, and tear through with a score of 12-6.

Next was Majuma, the walrus unclenching her body and taking on the phoenix who quickly overpowered her. Her nerves were unfortunately frazzled, and her top-spin was clumsy, always veering the ball too hard off the table edge. She managed to recover, but too late when hitting 8-12.

"My GODS!" she whimpered sitting at the bench, "how, HOW did this happen, I-i trained on their techniques this is incorrigible!"

"Hey it happens," Monda patted her, "don't shit about it, we got Murata right?"

"Yes...yes we do, he shall achieve, no, he WILL achieve where I failed in our path to glory."

"I'm standing right here," said the turtle drinking his water, "it's just ping-pong, relax."

"It, WHAT?!" the walrus snapped shooting up. "Ping-pong is not JUST ping-pong, it is a noble art of fortitude, iron will and unrelenting skill of the mind, hands and feet synchronising into one PERFECT warrior, I dare say it has a greater demand of talent than baseball!"

"Maju-san don't get into this again," Monda pulled her back.

"NO I WILL NOT SIT DOWN! I WILL SAY IT LOUD AND CLEAR, PING-PONG HAS BETTER SOCIETAL WORTH, THAN SOME IMBECILES WHAFFING ABOUT WITH STICKS IN A PARK!"

"Okay see this is why you're banned from the batting centre."

"HAH, incorrect!" she jabbed the squirrel's nose. "I was barred for mixing up coffee cans with energy drinks, they looked VERY similar, it's not my fault those high-schoolers ended up on the roof!"

"Isn't coffee hot and energy drinks're cold?" asked Zura.

"I WAS WEARING GLOVES!"

"MATCH NUMBER THREE!" the announcer cried. "CHALLENGERS PLEASE TAKE YOUR PLACES!"

"Knock 'em dead Murata," the mole-beetle punched him friendly, "no pressure."

"Yes, no pressure!" the walrus nodded with giddy thumbs. "Just my entire hopes and dreams and everything I've worked for the whole of my banal existence on the line, BUT NO PRESSURE!"

"Got it," the turtle grinned with a thumbs up, "don't worry, this fire's getting put out."

With a whoop and a holler they cheered him onto the ring as Gaho rolled his shoulders and stared down the centipede across the table. The old arthropod was surprisingly limber, the paddle he rolled down his arms and up again like a ball in a pachinko machine. The turtle spun his paddle in waiting as the ball came serving, whirling through the air to land on his side of the table as he struck back with a casual backhand.

Starting with a careful pace, Murata paddled the ball back and forth watching the centipede's movements and which of his six hands that he preferred, constantly switching the bat in his grips to keep the turtle confused and on his feet. The first few wins went to Team Fuku, a dazzling display of multiple forehand flicks that built up so much speed that they went whizzing past Murata.

After the fourth ball struck past him, Gaho braced himself and clenched his pupils with a hard stare towards the centipede's next move, realising by now he had a very particular rhythm to the switching of his hands. The tortoise began mapping them by numbers in his head, like a corkboard at the station as he watched his opponent try to trip him up again with a 1-2-3-5.

But Gaho thought ahead, and countered with a fast block that shut down the rhythm and immediately struck back with a blinding shot, startling the centipede and making Majuma almost shriek with delight. The fire-caterpillar was now off his game, trying to recover his rhythm, but Gaho kept shutting him down with a strong defence that soon the centipede was never able to breach.

When he tried to switch up his paddle to his other hands, his rhythm was never good enough to keep up against the turtle, who dodged back and forth from his side of the table with backhands and volleys left and right. Despite his opponent having powerful drives, Gaho managed to flip the script on the old centipede, the ball whizzing across the net.

The crowd fell silent with the soft tapping cacophony and the grunting gasps between them, arms clenched and biceps thickening with every slam of the paddle. But then the arthropod whacked his ball too low, and hit the net dead-on. 12-7 to Murata, the turtle putting down his paddle to a rousing cheer across the arena.

"AND THAT, IIIIS, THE GAAAAAME!" cried the announcer. "TEAM GO-WRATHS ARE THROUGH TO THE SECOND BRACKET!"

Majuma's scream was almost visible amongst the crowd, pulling at her tusks with a cackle of delight as Monda and Zura pumped up their fists and pounded their feet. Murata stepped over to the old centipede and offered his hand, with three of the insect's slapping it back as he walked off in a huff. They both returned to their teams as Fuku-Fires left in disgrace, and Majuma the walrus grabbed Murata in a hug trying to lift him.

"YOU DID IT, YOU DID IT AAAAAAH, AAAAAHAHAAAA!"

"Hah, hahah, glad I could help," said Gaho patting her.

"You really pulled our asses out of the fire," said Zura rubbing his shoulders, "ready fer the next round?"

"Fuck yeah we are!" Monda high-foured Gaho. "We got this shit locked DOWN!"

"Absolutely!" said Majuma taking her hand. "Our foot is in the door, now let's refocus our starts to take on our next opponents!"

They huddled round for the strategy meet, setting up their plan against the next team which turned out to be the Blades much to their relief. Monda took them on with her slow-winding skill of the ball, her flicking techniques hard to predict as she went to and fro across the table, with tricky manoeuvres to the point she even managed to win two rounds by herself.

Majuma came back for the third round in a clean sweep, a surge of strength renewed as she found her groove proper. After the Blades were beaten, they were brought out together with their heads held high and a small but excited crowd would shower them in adoration. Murata puffed up his chest with pride beside his team, staring out across the sea of faces.

Then he spotted one, staring at him directly from the audience. A large thorny reptilian with spikes coming out from every part of his face, forming a chinstrap beard along his dark scaled jaw. Something tingled in the back of his mind as he nudged his teammate.

"Hey, Maju-san," he nudged to her.

"Hmm, yes?!" she turned in the midst of waving.

"Who's that guy over there with the spikes?"

"...HOH! O-OHHH!" she grabbed her tusks with a sputtering shock. "Th-th-tha...that-"

"What, do you need your bag?"

"NO, n-no no just, that...that's the grand champion."

"What?" Murata blinked looking back.

"The leader of the Brave Tails, the most fearsome ping-pong team in all of Tokyo, NAY, the entirety of Japan! Nothing has stopped him in all the eight years since they've arrived, especially not him!"

"That their leader then?"

"Only the most powerful savage force in the history of Ping-Pong, the dreadsome driver, the brutal blocker, the terror of the topspin and the backhand devastator!"

"Wow," Murata muttered, "must be that bad if you ran out of alliterations."

"All who stand in this hallowed space of Ping-Pong know his name, the one they call... Zen."

"Zen...wait...Zen?" he looked back to her. "Zen Degoushi?"

"Yes!" Majuma gasped. "You've heard of him too, even beyond this realm?!"

"No, I just went to school with him back when I was a kid."

"WHAT?!"

"Yeah He bullied me all the time in gym."

"HEY!" Zura grabbed their shoulders. "We're packing up, they're planning the next bracket in a week!"

"Fuck yeah we rocked it!" Monda slapped her knees. "WHOOO, ain't nothing gonna stop us!"

"What do you MEAN you know him?!" Majuma cried as the audience started leaving.

"Wait what's up now?"

"Murata-san said that HE knows Zen from his infancy!"

"Yo you for real?! What you both go to Pong Camp?!"

"Hahah, pong camp," Zura starting to laugh a little too hard, "p-pong camp, ooooh, ohhh, hahaaa, I gotta sit down hoohohohoh!"

"It wasn't that funny my guy-"

"N-no, no it...oh uh, sh-shit be right back."

The mole hurried off back to their room as the team followed after, down the halls of the extremely spartan community centre where the corridors stood grey at every turn. Monda and Magumi babbled all the way, briefly distracted by the squirrel telling the walrus of the next bracket, with Gaho trailing a little further behind as he lost himself in his thoughts.

"I thought it was you."

The turtle looked behind to find the same thorn-headed lizard smiling down upon him. Standing tall he dominated over Gaho, a bulky but slender body wrapped in a deep purple vest, with various fin-like protrusions running down to his powerful long tail.

"Been a long time...Toto."

"Huh...you've grown Degoushi." Murata crossed his arms. "Last we met we could see eye to eye."

"Heh, growth spurt, what can I say? Didn't expect to see you in this place."

"Neither did I. Then again the last time we met, you were making me eat stones back in elementary, or kicking my head into the model skyscraper I made."

"Ahhh." The lizard rubbed his neck. "Yeah, I was a real bastard wasn't I?"

"It wasn't great, I'll tell you that."

"Well, you know how kids are, real shits."

"I wasn't, but you were." Gaho tightened his jaw. "You're the leader of the Brave Tails?"

"Sure am," Zen clenched his fist with pride, "eight-times champion, never lost a tournament in the country since I started. I never liked losing."

"I know, the day you kicked me into the grass was when I beat you on the parallel bars."

"That was practice, that didn't count!"

"You bet your friends that little fat Toto couldn't even do three spins on the bars, and I did a salto dismount so perfect the teacher cried."

"Oh PISS OFF!"

He suddenly snapped with a huge frill from his neck, ruffling like a collar round his throat of multicoloured scales as Zen sneered with a burning crimson eye. Then he took a deep breath and relaxed his frill back to a smooth neck.

"This is the real thing, not playground shit anymore."

"You were always jealous," Gaho chuckled, "always I could move better than you."

"But can you THINK better than me? Can you follow the ball, can you match my razor tongue?"

"I won the first round, didn't I?" The turtle put his hands on hips. "You want to be nine-times champion, you'll have to get through me."

"Good." Zen nodded leaning over him. "I'm tired of dealing with little brats and old farts, haven't had a real challenge in years, so let me give you a bit of advice."

The former bully gave a wild sneer with eyes of cruel glimmering red.

"Don't disappoint me...Toto."

He walked away with his long tail slinking past Murata's knee, turning round the corner as the off-duty officer smiled with a spark in his eye. A fire grew inside him as he returned to his room.

"Alright team, listen up."

The three members of his group looked to him.

"From now on, we're in the big leagues right?"

"Um, y-yes?" said Majuma from her seat.

"I'm ready to be your champion. What you told me before, I'm taking it to heart."

"Wha, what do you mean?"

"I'm taking down Zen." He punched his fists together with a grin. "We're going to the top. We, are going to be the best damn Ping-Pong champions of Tokyo 2014."