Daniel yawned and shifted in his seat, joining the livestream. He didn’t even have to turn up his volume to hear; almost everyone on the plane tuned in, even the man sitting in front of him. Mindgame challenged Sir Guardian in an alleyway, but a figure in a gray long coat limped away, her face obscured by brown hair. Something about her seemed familiar, but he couldn’t exactly plant his finger on it.

It was hard to think with his legs so cramped and tight. The neckpillow felt like it was minutes away from bonding with his skin. Daniel had slept through most of the thirteen hour flight from Paris to Japan, yet beside him, Rafiq was still fast asleep.

He didn’t want to sit by Rafiq.

Though the fight started on the screen floating in front of him, Daniel’s attention drifted to Carmen, across the aisle, sitting at the window on the opposite side. They hadn’t talked much at all ever since she asked if their relationship was a mistake. Daniel grimaced. Back then, he was too stunned to reply.

Because she was right. Yes, okay, he’d asked her out, even thought his ultimate goal was to leave here — including her, too. He wasn’t mad at her for asking. Did his reaction come off that way?

Regardless, as they left the hotel, she asked to sit next to Mr. Stone on the plane, instead. Even on the way here, on the bus, she sat beside Mr. Stone, keeping both him and Rafiq between them. Both of them gave Daniel odd looks, but he never asked Rafiq about it since.

He couldn’t text her on the plane either. Yet, somehow, these menus and streams still worked. Daniel sighed. Watching fight streams like everyone else on the plane was his only option, now. On screen, Sir Guardian smashed down on Mindgame's guard, both having barely lost any health after half of the round had ticked away.

With a high-pitched ding, the warning to fasten seatbelts came on above him. Daniel stretched again in his seat, and his back cracked and popped as he pulled the window open, greeted to Japan’s urban landscape. In every direction, small towns split lush greenery and rice fields split. Daniel traced winding rivers with his eyes, following the serene backdrop until he reached Mount Fuji, a distant monster against the sunset horizon.

Timezones were the worst part of traveling. They left Paris in the afternoon, and, thirteen hours later, arrived in Japan in the afternoon.

Once they were allowed to rise and grab their backs, Daniel hurried to grab Carmen’s suitcase for her, hungry for the slightest interaction.

“Thanks,” she yawned and muttered, averting her gaze shamefully.

Daniel hoped she never saw his frown. Mr. Stone led the way off the plane, but they had to wait on the red carpet in the tight hallway, waiting for Rafiq to disembark. Against his height, the cramped plane and other passengers also filing out proved to be a challenge.

“Where do we have to go next?” Daniel asked once Rafiq finally caught up. “I know we can’t just leave.”

“We must stop by immigration. At this point, I know the process by heart. I spent a lot of time, here.”

“Really?”

“Of course, Daniel. The old Monsoon Arts school was located in the outskirts of Tokyo.”

“Oh, shoot,” Rafiq said. “Was it a bad idea coming here?” Rafiq asked.

Mr. Stone shook his head, popping his neck. “I’ve made peace with it. We may have worse problems, though.” He leaned in closer towards the three of them. “Do not turn around. Someone’s following us.”

Daniel closed his livestream. His heart skipped a beat, and every nerve urged him to turn. But, instead, Mr. Stone told them to pause for a picture. A part of him felt strange about smiling beside Carmen like nothing was wrong; another part relished in the chance to pull her into a hug like nothing was wrong again

Mr. Stone showed them the picture, pointing to a shirtless toned man with red karate pants and a bandana over his head. “Awareness is a key skill of any Fighter. This man watched us on the plane, and has followed us so far.”

“Why?” Carmen said.

Daniel clenched his fist, feeling the golden Limiters around his wrists, eyeing the bracers around everyone else’s, too. How well would they fare in a fight without their powers?

“I do not know. But, it’s likely he hasn’t made a move yet because we all have Limiters on. Come.” Mr. Stone continued speaking as they walked. “It’s also because of how Japanese culture treats Fighting.”

“What, they prefer katanas here?” Rafiq asked.

“That would be a racial stereotype,” Mr. Stone said. “No. Rather, more simply, challenging and Fighting someone in public is shamed, compared to heading somewhere more private. Zoning is also seen as a dishonorable method of fighting.”

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“So our follower is most likely to be a Rushdown,” Carmen said.

“We’ll have to be careful when we get on the train to Tokyo. Pay attention. I believe, while we stopped to talk, he passed us. He may be looking for an excuse to stop and reorient himself behind us.

Daniel scanned the pedestrians past Mr. Stone. Like a sore, red thumb, the man had stopped at a water fountain to fill his water bottle. As soon as he glanced at them over his shoulder, Daniel averted his gaze.

He felt the man’s presence the entire way out of the airport. They rode the conveyor belts down the hallways, and descended escalators with bright pictures of video game characters plastered on the walls. Of course, Carmen could name them all. Even the signs to the Visitor Service Center had game characters pointing them in the right direction.

The mysterious man followed them there, too, and even through immigration. Mr. Stone gestured for them to wait, and pretended to fumble with his map until the man got close.

“Excuse me, sir! Pardon the interruption. Could you assist us with directions?”

The man blinked in surprise.

“We aren’t from here. We’re trying to figure out which train goes to Tokyo,” he said, ponting at the map.

He gripped his backpack strap tighter, and Daniel caught the slight glance at him before the man traced the map. “This one. The Narita Express takes about an hour to get there. I’m taking the same train.”

“Oh, perfect. Thank you for the help, sir. Have a good day.”

The moment he strolled out of earshot, Mr. Stone pulled them in a different direction. “Come. We’re taking the Keisei Skyliner instead.”

Inside the Keisei Skyliner, rows of blue seat faced each other, like if the plane interior had been brought onto the rails, with way more windows.

The man in red stepped onto their train car.

Even on a cane, Mr. Stone rose and put himself between them and the man. They were alone in the car. Daniel rubbed where the Limiter bracers had left a mark on his wrist, free from their restriction. Beside him, Carmen held Chip in her hands, eyes hungry for the slightest provocation to call him out. Rafiq tensed his legs.

“We aren’t in public anymore,” Mr. Stone snapped. “What business do you have with me?”

“Stand aside, old man. My business isn’t with you.” The man spoke with a thick Japanese accent as he rolled his luggage aside and pointed at Daniel. “I challenge you to a ranked Fight, Chase!”

The world lurched into motion outside the windows, but Daniel’s train of thought grinded to a screeching halt.

“Aye, what? This ain’t fair! We ain’t ready for this — we just got here, bro!” Rafiq shouted, jumping from his seat and putting himself between Daniel. He nearly bucked up to the man, but Mr. Stone extended an arm, holding him back.

“If he isn’t ready for a random challenge, he doesn’t deserve his rank. It’s only chance that we met, but I recognize Chase from his fake fight against the Fifty, that beginner’s tournament in South City in America, and from fighting Eternite.” He popped his knuckles. “If beating down a kid with two moves is all it takes to get my rank up, that’s what I’ll do”

Mr. Stone straightened his stance, relaxing his demeanor. “So be it. Chase, rise and face your challenge.”

Further ahead, the waitress stepped onto their train car, smiling. “Hello, gentlemen. I believe you two have challenged each other. Please follow me to the Battlecar.”

“But I’m not even—!” Daniel struggled for words, but Carmen held a thumbs up, and Chip followed her motion. He sighed, rolled up his sleeves, and grabbed his headphones. “Fine. I got this. I’ll be back.”

He didn’t even have his fighting uniform on — only a casual pair of sweatpants and his puffy black jacket. The System didn’t care. Above the screen displaying Blitz’s name and stats, the timer continued to tick down from thirty seconds. In fifteen seconds, they reached the car at the back of the train, with no seats, a flat red mat for a floor, and red walls marked with scorches and tears.

The waitress locked them inside.

Blitz paced to the other side of the Battlecar and glared at Daniel. “Well? Are you gonna take the challenge, boy?”

“You’re with her. That’s how you found us,” Daniel said.

“Her?” Blitz scoffed. “I’m with myself, and for myself. This is nothing but chance — and a chance that I won’t let slip past me again.”

“That’s what you say,” Daniel said, popping his knuckles before pressing the button to accept the challenge.

“Chase VS. Blitz. Best of three! Fighters, enter your starting positions!”

Daniel skimmed the window showing Blitz’s stats.

image [https://i.imgur.com/HPuk8qA.png]

“So, you probably already analyzed me and my moves, but you’re new to me,” Daniel said. Being too talkative helped against Eternite; maybe this would be no different. “How much you wanna bet I could read you, too?”

Blitz sneered, stepping into the light on the floor outlining his starting position.

“You’re like a YouTube-guide Rushdown, with big Speed, Combos, and Close-Range, but low Health, Damage, and Long-Range. My high Speed’s only during my counters, and you still have the higher combo stat, too. That’s what you’re gonna take advantage of, isn’t it?”

“Round one!”

Daniel pulled his phone out, disconnected his headphones, and pressed play on his music, letting it blast aloud. “Go ahead. Come on and attack me. You’re just gonna make countering easier.”

“Ready?”

“Chase, you know what they say about people who talk the most?”

“That they’ve got wits?”

“They talk the most ‘cause they fight the least!”

“Fight!”