Chapter Nine


Rocky took in a deep breath. He closed his eyes, dropping his head back as far as it would go. Tried to quell the nerves that shot through his body, that kept him absolutely wired. He wasn't someone who liked to drink coffee, didn't like a lot of caffeine, but as far as his body knew, he'd just taken a double shot of something.

It was getting closer. Closer to when he'd have to face the music. Pay the Piper. All those other euphemisms that he'd heard over the years. Or, as his grandpa—and ironically, their father liked to say, "Face it like a man."

Not in a patronizing way, but in the way that had the same feeling, "Don't run from challenges you need to face. Making excuses to back out of what you need to face makes it harder when the moment comes."

If only they knew how similar they were, Rocky thought. Feeling a jab to his side, Rocky opened his eyes to see Emily looking at him, brown eyes filled with concern. He looked back at her for a second then asked, a slight sense of exasperation in his tone, "What?"

"What?" Emily repeated, immediately clocking into his attitude. The two smiled at each other and Emily shook her head, pulling her hair back from her face. "You're missing it," She said, nodding to the fight going on in the practice below.

"I'm not," Rocky denied. He sat up, leaned forward clasped his hands between his legs. He watched as Tum-Tum expertly moved across the floor, handing his opponent's jabs and kicks back at him with ease. It didn't surprise Rocky. Tum-Tum, as much as he loved to eat and have fun, as much as his exterior could show him as someone who didn't take danger too seriously, was the most serious Rocky had ever seen him.

He was winning and Rocky was nothing short of proud for his baby brother. The finals were almost over, in a few minutes, Tum-Tum would win his heat and would be the winner of his age division, as he deserved to be. It wasn't that hat made him worry, it was how close he and Colt where to the end that made his stomach roll.

In a few minutes he'd be facing his brother in the ring in the semi-finals.

Rocky squeezed his hands together between his legs, crushing his fingertips as hard as he could. Emily reached out and grasped Rocky's hand in hers, forcing his left hand down and away so that she could wedge her fingers between his. "You're worried over nothing," She said.

"It's not nothing," Rocky replied, frowning. His stomach continued to squirm. He wasn't sure if it was still knowing he or his brother was about to face defeat, or if it was her holding his hand. He used his free hand to brush his hair from his forehead. "It's a lot."

"No matter what happens, you're still going to be brothers."

Rocky laughed quietly, his lips pulling back into a smile. "You're clearly an only child, Ems."

"That's not my fault!"

"It's not," he agreed. Rocky ran his hands through his hair, forcing Emily to drop her hand from his. She didn't move to grab it again when he dropped his arms back to his thighs. "But…there's always been this competition over our heads, in almost everything we do. We've always been compared to each other, in everything. Dad's baseball team, ninja training, school…but grandpa's always made sure we felt we were our own people. Here…"

Rocky gestured towards the mats, grinning when Tum-Tum landed a spectacular kick to his opponent's stomach, after having been held off by the longer length of his opponent's arms. He and Emily cheered as loud as everyone else when Tum-Tum's opponent felt over and got back to his feet in time for Tum-Tum to land a flurry of punches before flipping his opponent over his arm to the ground, where he didn't get back up.

The crowd exploded into cheers as Tum-Tum punched the air, hopping from foot to foot, an unmistakable glow in his smile despite the beads of sweat that poured down his face and dripped form his chin. Even from where he sat, Rocky could see their mother jumping up and down, slapping her husband and her father on the arms as they tried to duck away from her blows. Colt, standing on the far side of the mat clapped and whooped loudly for Tum-Tum as his arm was pulled over his head, declaring him the winner.

"What were you saying?" Emily asked as the cheering died down. She continued to clap, as Tum-Tum was handed his trophy.

"I'm just saying that, here, the competition is put over us again. Only this time…" Rocky shrugged. "This time, we all want to win."

Emily lifted an eyebrow and gave him a teasing smile. "The great Rock Douglas is finally admitting he wants to beat his brothers at something? He doesn't care about anyone's feelings?" She laughed when Rocky nudged her on the arm, almost pushing her over. "I'm kidding." She smoothed her hair back from her face, smiling warmly at him. "Whether or not you win, Rocky, you've already won, just getting this far. And we're all proud of you."

Rocky's smile widened. Then it faded when he heard his and Colt's names called to be brought to the mat. Down below, with Jo and Brett, Colt stood up and started to make his way to the mat. Rocky watched him as he went, watching how Colt moved with ease. As if nothing was weighing over their shoulders.

His eyes narrowed. "Yeah," Rocky said under his breath. "I guess you're right."

"I know I'm right," Emily corrected. "Now, at least have some fun." She grabbed Rocky's shoulder and shook him. "I'll hate you if you don't."

"Yeah, yeah…"

"What'd I miss?" Jason asked, dropping to Rocky's left side. He lifted his face from his phone to find Rocky and Emily both glaring at him. "What? There was a long ling in the bathroom."

"You missed Tum-Tum winning his heat," Emily replied.

"He won the whole thing," Rocky agreed.

Jason's eyes widened as big as his smile. "You're not shitting me?" He asked before moving his hand over his mouth, prompting Rocky to make a face and roll his eyes. As much as Jason joked about it, Rocky wasn't that tightly wound. "Mikey won? Wow, that kid's got more moves than I thought!" Then Jason looked at Rocky in commiseration. "He's never going to let you forget it."

"Yeah, I know," Rocky agreed. He got to his feet, rubbing the palms of his hands over the legs of his gi. Hearing his name called again, Rocky stood up and made his way down the bleachers to the mat. He kept his eyes on Colt as he went, Colt doing the same.

It wasn't just to get a handle on each other, but also to ignore the whispers that covered them as he went. Rocky knew they were the very same when Colt went down once their names were called.

"Did he say Rocky and Colt Douglas?"

"Aren't they the 3 Ninjas?"

"Yeah, and one of the brothers just won his heat."

"I can't wait to watch this one."

"I wonder who will win."

So do I, Rocky thought. Seconds before the second one, I hope it's me, came though.

Looking to see if Colt could suddenly read his mind, Rocky lifted his gaze to look at his brother. Colt looked back a him, bouncing from foot to foot. His signature stance, Rocky knew. Colt hadn't been able to sit still as long as he knew his brother. Colt being his ninja name was more apt than just for his fighting style.

Rocky's gaze swept the crowd; found his family and his friends all waving encouragingly at them—though his mother looked particularly worried, her hands covering her mouth. Saw the new family he'd met earlier that day, they were kidding he wouldn't miss them, that shock of raven-hair sitting in a row in the crowd was unmistakable, they watched him closely.

Out the corner of his eye, Rocky saw the referee move into position to start the match. Rocky grabbed the mouthpiece of his gi that sat around his neck and pulled it to cover his mouth. He watched as Colt did the same the nodded.

"Good luck," he called.

"You too," Colt called back.

Rocky lowered his gaze to his feet, thinking. He knew when the match started Colt would immediately come out, guns blazing. It's how he always worked. Start off with a good offense to put fear in his opponent. But their opponents over the years had been some of the most out of shape older men and those that weren't expecting kids to come after them, underestimating their skill and size. This was different.

He and Colt had seen each other's skills for years.

Now it was time to know who was going to come out on top.

The whistle blew.

Rocky lifted his head and fell back into a fighting stance. He was surprised to see Colt do the same, wondering what it was he was up to. It took him only a second to figure it out. Colt knew Rocky knew how he worked; if he were to act normally, Rocky would figure out a way to beat him sooner. It was that notion that had Rocky take the first blow, to throw Colt off-guard.

A straight jab toward Colt's face.

Colt's eyes widened. Just slightly. He hesitated long enough for Rocky to nearly put a punch directly to Colt's nose. Rocky watched as the tuft of hair that fell over Colt's forehead shot upwards form the force of the air Rocky punched. Then Colt shot up a hand and knocked Rocky's punch away from his face.

Colt then stepped forward and lifted his foot, extending his other up as high as he could. A straight kick upward that, had Rocky not bent back out of the way, would've clocked him in the chin. Rocky bent backwards until his body was bent at a right angle. He could feel the muscles in his stomach tighten as he did so.

Then he was back on his feet, and yet, Colt kept kicking. Kick after kick, hopping forward just slightly on his foot that held his body weight. Rocky continued to move himself back from Colt's extension. Rocky's gaze flicked downward. His lips pulled back in a smile.

Colt was keeping a part of himself very vulnerable. Rocky spun on his heel and aimed a kick directly towards the middle of Colt's spread legs. In the split second before connection, Rocky saw Colt's eyes widen before he pitched himself to the ground.

Just as Rocky expected. He watched Colt drop down to his hand, pressing his body close to the ground to protect himself. Rocky placed his hands on Colt's back and pushed himself into a handstand, effectively dropping his body weight onto his younger brother so that he became closely pressed to the ground. Rocky heard Colt's grunt in pain, chest crushed between his brother and the ground.

Rocky dug his fingers into Colt's gi and dropped his weight back until his body connected to the ground. Rocky sat down and used that momentum to continue rolling backwards, dragging his brother with him. They rolled over until they were back in the same position with Colt splayed on the ground and Rocky straddling his back.

Colt lifted his foot and kicked Rocky in the back of his head, knocking off his older brother. Rocky bent to the side, trying to avoid another hit, blinking away the stars that'd exploded in his eyes. He could feel and hear Colt's heavy breathing beneath him. Saw the muscles in his brother's back tense up, before as powerful as the muscles in a bucking bronco about to take its rider for a wild ride.

Wiggling free, Colt twisted to his side and aimed a kick at Rocky. Rocky brought up his arms, slinging his wrists together in an 'X' to deflect the blow. But the blow still smacked his wrists hard enough to leave a lasting sting that shot up through his fingertips. Colt too the opportunity and wrapped his legs around Rocky's neck, twisting them aside.

"Gah!" Rocky gagged, feeling his Adam's Apple painfully squeezed shut between Colt's thighs. He brought up his hands to pry Colt's knees apart but brought himself up to his feet, raising Colt's lower half up off the ground.

Colt placed his hands on the ground behind him and used it to propel his body around. The momentum made Rocky do a butterfly twist to the side as Colt did a no-handed flip to his feet as well.

The audience burst into excited applause as the boys moved back into fighting stances.

Then they leapt at each other and started throwing everything they could to take each other on. Strong punches that connected, kicks that made each other keep their distance and equally move closer. Evasions that made Rocky's heart race with how close they came to knocking him in the face. He wasn't vain by any means but knowing how painful it was to have a foot to the face wasn't something Rocky was looking forward to experiencing.

Not if it meant defeat.

The audience melted away. He couldn't hear anyone's cheering. Couldn't hear the encouraging shouts. Couldn't even tell where his family and friends were sitting any longer. All he could focus on was his brother and beating him. Going on to the next level and winning and…

Rocky saw the frustration that flashed over Colt's face. Recognized the expression the numerous times Rocky had beat him in sparring as they grew up. Saw it when they were playing their baseball games and he was taunted with 'strike out kid' at nearly every turn. Saw it when he was called 'pony boy'. All of which doing nothing more than fueling Colt's fire. And when he got to that point, Colt was nearly unstoppable.

Can you beat him? The thought crossed his mind for a second. Rocky thought he could. He wanted to beat Colt. But…it was the consequences that'd come with it. The part of the unspoken competition between them they definitely would never come close to admitting they thought about it—would it fracture their relationship afterwards?

Rocky stopped.

It was that second that Colt reacted.

He ran towards Rocky, bearing down on him like a wild horse. His arms splayed as he went. Rocky moved to the side, to grab Colt's arm. Colt moved faster. He darted to the side, brought his knee up into Rocky's back—directly into his kidney. Rocky cried out as he flew forward from the force of the hit, bringing his chest down into the kick that Colt sent straight into his sternum.

Rocky twisted and flipped, crashing hard to the ground, the wind knocking out of him. He gasped for air, a gurgled wheeze escaping his lips, arms splayed on the ground, legs twisted with each other. His entire body tingled while Rocky's brain screamed at him to get up.

Get up.

Get up.

GET UP.

Rocky lifted his hand, unable to catch his breath. He shook his head. He couldn't keep going. And yet, when he moved his hand back to the mat, when he heard the sound of the whistle going off to signify Colt the winner, Rocky pressed his fingers into the mat, arms shaking.

He lost.

Rocky rolled over so that he could sit down, stretching out his legs so he could catch his breath. It all came back at once. Too late. Colt sauntered over to him and held out his hand. Rocky looked at it for a moment before limply placing his hand in Colt's allowing himself to be brought to his feet. The two looked at each other for a long moment, Colt's eyes the only visible portion of his face beneath the mask of his gi, before letting go.

Rocky backed away from his brother and jogged off the mat to polite clapping and cheering from the audience. He went to the changing area and grabbed his things, taking off the top part of his gi and changed into a white t-shirt, but kept the rest on. He kept his head low, slipped on his baseball cap to shield his face as he moved to sit in the stands once more.

He barely watched, numb, as Colt moved to and ultimately lost the next round. The next guy they came across was just too good; having numerous more years of experience that Rocky and his brothers didn't have. It wasn't an easy match for Colt; he had to work hard to stay up, but it was a relatively short one.

The tournament ended with only Tum-Tum a victor.

Rocky tried to stay as excited for his brother as possible, but was silent the entire way back to the house. Didn't make a sound when Tum-Tum—for winning—got the chance to choose their dinner that night; a dish Rocky didn't particularly like. He simply went upstairs, took a shower, and went to his room, sitting at his desk and pouring over a comic book that he wasn't quiet reading, somehow getting to the end without realizing it.

Then picking up another one to start all over again.

His mind whirred.

He lost. It hadn't been easy, but he lost. He ran the moment through his head once more. The slight hesitation. That exact moment that was his fatal flaw; where he second-guessed his next move of attack, giving Colt the opportunity to take him down.

If his head was in the game, if he'd shown off a little, he would won. Knew it deep in his bones, a steady ache that thrummed through him. That laid over him like a inky black blanket, growing deeper in its somberness as the seconds passed.

Rocky closed his eyes, clenched his hands into fists. Slammed the fists on the side of his desk and let out a long breath as the pain shot through his hands. He lifted his chin, resting it atop the hands he clasped together, and breathed out through his nose. Rocky flicked his gaze to the world outside his window, watching the wind blow through the trees.

"You let me win, didn't you?"

Rocky blinked in surprise while simultaneously stopped all his tensing muscles from making him jump out of fear. A lukewarm feeling washed through his body. His face then screwed up in outrage as he turned to Colt. Not just because of the accusation, but because he'd burst into his room without knocking first. And Colt knew that was what bugged Rocky the most. "I didn't let you win," he said. He pointed to the door. "Now get out."

"No," Colt defied. He folded his arms at the same time his eyes turned flinty. Rocky heaved a small sigh, knowing what was coming. No one ever escaped the wrath of Colt unscathed. There wasn't much he took more seriously than ninja. "Not until you tell me why you let me win."

"I didn't let you win," Rocky repeated. He tried a different tactic, hopeful his brother would listen to him this time. "Why would I do that if I wanted to win as badly as you did?"

That stymied Colt for a second. He blinked hard, looked away from Rocky, set his jaw. He looked very much like their father, then. It was funny, Rocky noted, how often Colt was told he resembled their mother compared to how often Rocky himself was told he resembled their father. Tum-Tum a mixture of the two in all but his long eyelashes—that was their mother's.

"Because you can't handle the thought of someone beating you," Colt shot back.

Rocky snorted.

Yeah, right.

They'd been beaten before. By their grandpa, many times. Their baseball team had been beaten many times. And so had their basketball team at school. Rocky had faced defeat more times than he'd cared to count but it wasn't the loss that was the important part, it was how you handled it. Rocky handled loss well after a small bout of anger.

Colt, clearly, hadn't learned that lesson yet. As it as, Colt continued to speak as if he hadn't heard Rocky's snort of dismissal. He continued with, "Let alone your own brother. So, you decide to throw it instead of actually losing. Because you know you'd lose to me."

At that, Rocky surged to his feet. He shoved Colt hard on the shoulder, jostling his brother hard enough for him to take a step back. "You really can be a jerk sometimes," he spat.

Colt shoved him back. "Takes one to know one."

Rocky stepped back, turned away, roughed his hands through his hair. Then he caught sight of his expression in the mirror hanging off his closet. Eyebrows pinched, tightened so hard his lips paled, blue-green eyes looking decidingly furious for something he'd gotten over within the last hour.

Yeah right, the tiny voice in the back of Rocky's head remarked before he could stop it.

Lowering his chin, Rocky heaved a sigh, allowing his shoulders to relax with the extension of his breath. Push it down. Compartmentalize it. Rocky turned back to Colt, much calmer. Though Colt's beady eyed stare was a clear indication he wasn't over everything yet.

"I didn't let you win," Rocky started to say, but Colt talked over him once more.

"Bullshit." Colt dropped his hands to his sides. His face wasn't as pinched with anger as it was before. He was calming down, Rocky noted. But he wasn't quite done being pissed. "I know you. I know the way you fight. There's no way you couldn't have seen what I was going to do before I did it. That's how you've always been. You use everything around you to your advantage. You had to have let me win."

Rocky folded his arms. "Have you ever thought you just might be better than me?"

"Of course." Colt didn't seem ashamed as he responded. Almost as if he'd been waiting for the day Rocky asked the question. His assuredness startled Rocky into smiling. "I always think I'm better than you. And I'm pretty sure I am."

"Well…" Rocky shrugged.

"But if we were ever going to figure it out, I wanted a fair fight." Colt brought up his hand to rub at his temples. All the fight left him when he dropped his hands. He practically pouted as he said, "Not that either of us know now. And do you know what the worst part is?" Rocky shrugged. "I'm pretty sure I saw Tum-Tum tucking his trophy into bed."

The two looked at each other and laughed. "Uh…" Rocky tried to figure out what to say in response but fell short. Started laughing again. When he was Tum-Tum's age he probably would've done the same thing, just due to the pride he felt over it. At his current age, he didn't think he'd do more than put it on his shelf with all his baseball and basketball trophies and admire it from afar.

"We really need to talk to Tum about his being a sore winner," Rocky commented.

"You saw him dancing with it over his head, too?"

"No. I saw how annoyed dad was starting to get with Tum saying 'See? I told you our training wasn't a waste of time!'. I don't think the way grandpa is grinning was helping much either." Though, Rocky thought. I'm not sure how much longer dad can act like our ninja training isn't something we're eventually going to give up.

It was a point of contention for them over the years; Sam had never liked the boys going off to learn martial arts training as they grew up, thinking it'd only want them to become violent with other people. It proved a point when they were then kidnapped by Snyder. Made even worse when they used their skills to fight the Mustangs during a baseball game.

Rocky knew it was out of worry, the worry that lessened more and more as the boys grew older and their father saw what they could do with it. If anyone ever told me dad would've let us enter a tournament and willingly watch, I would've laughed, Rocky thought with a lift of his eyebrow.

"That's Tum for ya," Colt agreed. "He did a great job." Rocky waited for a snarky remark to follow the statement, but Colt simply looked back at his older brother. Rocky nodded in agreement.

"Tum did a great job. He's someone we really have to look out for if he ever gets into our division. It's going to happen sooner than later," Rocky added, seeing a skeptical flash in Colt's eyes. "He's not just our little brother. He really holds his own."

"Yeah, yeah."

Rocky smiled. Colt's niceness to their little brother was clearly over. "And it's not like it's the worst thing that could happen compared to other things."

"Other things?" Rocky prompted.

Colt lifted his eyebrows. "School," he prompted. "Now that the tournament is over, we have to go back to school."

Rocky's lips parted. He sucked in a sharp breath.

He'd completely forgotten about that. Rocky didn't love school, he enjoyed it enough as it being a way to spend a lot of time with his friends, learning new things, and able to participate in all of his sports. But, going into his senior year he had a whole new set of problems to deal with that he couldn't put off much longer.


Jack Harding continued to laugh uproarisly, watching as JJ and his other sidekicks threw wads of money into the air, watching it flutter to the ground. A green storm that no one else would be able to experience.

It was brilliant. He was brilliant. That ninja tournament…it had been a crap shoot of an idea. Something that'd only come to him during one of the slow, dull days when he was stuck in prison. Sitting in his cell, in his pod for twenty hours a day with some of the worst criminals.

There were murderers, extortionists, those that committed aggravated assault who he spent all his time with. But it was the drug dealers that helped him understand the way of life. Drug dealers that were ordinary people who simply made a choice to keep themselves alive. Those who were so poor that it was their only means of making any sort of savings to better themselves.

They were the real ones.

They were the ones who had money minds. They were his people. And they were the ones who kept his dream alive. His dream of getting out of prison to start everything all over again. They were the ones who made it so that Jack's living in that awful squalor wasn't so hard.

And yet, he dreamt of nothing but getting free.

His cell was dark and dank, the smell of urine consistently filling his nose form a cell mate who deemed to 'make his presence' by peeing on the floor. The snores of the other inmates filled Jack's ears day in and day out. There wasn't much to do other than eat, sleep and try not to be shivved by the others. Nevertheless, having to listen to the same sounds day in and day out, ever since he was put in there, was plain torture.

But Jack still had his visitors. There was a day where he lay staring at the ceiling, once again rolling in anger over his failing businesses when he heard the heavy footsteps of a guard coming closer. Jack's eyebrows had twitched then.

The guard was early, he knew. The prison ran like clockwork and it was outside of the regular hours. Looking at his hands which are cut and dirty he could hear the familiar, heavy steps of the guard coming nearer.

The door opened, he turned his head slightly, watching the guard's arm extend fully. In the second the door opened, Jack charged forward and rammed his shoulder into the guard's chest, smiling in satisfaction as he heard the sound of the man's ribs breaking. His charge sent him propelling against the opposing wall, leaving himself open for him to use his sock that was filled his rocks as weapon, hitting anywhere within reach. After a few moments, the guard slumped to the ground unconscious.

Or dead.

Jack didn't care.

He reached down towards the guard pulls out his gun, smiling as he weighed it in his hands. As quiet as a mouse, he closed the cell door behind him and started to run. He knew that there wouldn't be anyone around to ruin his plan, there was no chance of that happening. He had made sure that he studied every moment, every movement of those that were in the prison. He would be able to get out and away.

That's what Jack always hoped. And yet, his luck was never that good. If he were being honest, his greatest stroke of luck was that he stayed in prison. It gave him time to get the connections he needed on the outside, to start his next venture.

And now it was working.

It was working better than he thought it ever could.

"That stupid ninja tournament…" Jack watched as the smoke above him dissipated in swirls. "Who would've thought the best way to get people together was by hosting a fucking gimmicky tournament?"

JJ practically giggled, standing next to his boss. "Gimmicks are your forte, boss! Stealing from the poor and giving to the rich!"

"And these idiots can be as poor as they want, as soon as you find what they want and exploit it, they're all yours." Jack stabbed out his cigar on the arm of the couch. He stood up, pulling off his suspenders so that they draped behind them, allowing his stomach to bulge out slightly. Better than having to suck it in and act like he was the trim and fit.

He only needed to worry about that when he had all those cameras in his face. And with the way MedoCal was going, it wouldn't be too long before he started his appearances. Of course, there was the matter of that silly little Tawanka Tribe who were probably going to make his life a living hell, but he'd dealt with them before.

He could deal with them again if he needed.

There was such a thing as bad press and Jack Harding was going to make sure this one was a success.

But this time, he'd make sure anyone who opposed him was permanently silenced.


A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. There are going to be plenty of moments of Rocky and Tum-Tum bonding, but with Rocky and Colt being so close in age and, from what we've seen in the movies, being right and left hand men to each other, it's really natural to continuously put them together.

That being said, the rest of the story starts now, though the ninja tournament does have a big part to play for what happens with the rest of the story. I enjoyed the response to our OCs being in this story. Knowing what I know of them and what's going to happen with them through the rest of it, it's been interesting.

Oh, and there will be happy moments and happy chapters in this story as well. They won't all be so brooding, lol.

Cheers,

Riles