A New World; Buckler Security:

Waves crash into the sandy shores of a beach long forgotten. Trees dance idly with the nice breeze and the sand feels nice and warm under his bare feet. It's been a long time - years, even - since he'd last been here. But everything remains the same, frozen in time. The same old, red, stolen emergency lights that used to light his way were still there, were now finally dead and now resting peacefully where they were originally placed. It still didn't have a name; still just some small, tucked away section of Wailuku. The place has been in the doldrums for the past few years, and no one lives here anymore - not after that attack, at least - so the only things he sees are nature that has reclaimed the land and whatever stray animals happen to wander by.

'Home sweet home,' Gouten thinks woefully, 'It's still nice to look at though.'

In his mind's eye, he can still see it all so clearly. The community that once stood here. It was little more than a collection of shacks held together with tape and rusty nails, but it was more than enough at the time. He can see the old homes, the people; young and old, and even the stray animals that made their home there with them.

And then he blinks and suddenly, he can see the fires. The chaos. The wanton destruction led by a madman on a 'Tuesday stroll'. He can feel his face contort in a frown when his eyes open.

His flight to Metro City was tomorrow and he'd already packed the little he already owned and now could only kill time. Miss Felicia, the angel she was, would be seeing him off and he already knows that she'll bawl and make a scene. The very thought brings a small, melancholic smile to his face, and a slew of memories. He'd have to thank her tomorrow. He, admittedly, didn't make it easy for her to care for him, nor raise him in any capacity and - thinking back on it - there were more than a few times that her patience with him should've worn thin. But it never did. She always tried with him, no matter how little he tried with himself. For that, he is eternally grateful.

The cry of a seagull brings him out of mental stupor and he blinks away the images and the frustrated glassiness of his eyes. The sun had just started to meander its ancient self down the waves and over the horizon, and the stars were starting to awake from their hours-long slumber. Just how long had he been here?

A low, slow melodic tune of his default ringtone eased his mind and brought his attention to his phone.

Miss Felicia.

Yikes, three missed calls already. None of her texts seemed particularly urgent, which was... good, at least.

"Aloha."

"Aloha," she says lightly. "I've been trying to call you. Is everything alright?"

"I should be asking you that," he responds. Some movement out of the corner of his eye catches his attention. It's a rather large dog that somehow got itself pinned under a few large, metal sheets; the remnants of a home long since destroyed and forgotten by time. The dog looks rough - battered, covered with scars and thinner than it should be - and struggles to free itself from the fallen debris. Gouten makes a face and hums in response to whatever Miss Felecia says over the line and starts to approach. The dog is whimpering and growling with each step he takes, and when it finally sees him, it bares its teeth.

"You still there...? You're a bit quiet."

"Yeah," he says absently, keeping the dog in his sights. "E kala mai, noʻonoʻo wale."

When he gets within arm's length, the dog gets frantic and tries in vain to escape, and when it realizes it can't, it lashes out, nearly biting him. He doesn't react and in his mind, he just wishes the creature would stop fighting so he could have an easier time. The dog snaps at him again between whimpers and barks and Gouten gives it a stare, long and hard. He can feel something bubbling inside of him, a warm feeling of calm and security that he wished the dog could somehow feel. He reaches down to get a grip on the large metal sheet and expects the dog to snap again, but it doesn't. It whimpers and cries, but the aggression has been replaced by something more subdued. In a single hoist, Gouten frees the creature and watches as it runs off into the bushes.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"No," he concedes, "sorry. Do you just, uh, - I'll just swing by before I go."

"Are you sure? You know the kids won't let you go without the waterworks."

"Yeah," Gouten turns and takes a few final glances at the area. It was never what he'd call pleasing to the eyes, but the way nature had reclaimed the land, it was nice. "I'll be by in a minute. Do you need anything?"

"Do you actually have money or will you steal it?"

"You wound me, Miss Felicia."

"Gouten." She says more sternly and Gouten can't help the small, fond ghost of a smile that finds its way to his face.

"Fine, fine."

"Big bro is here!"

"Gouten's here!"

Felicia meanders into the room, aged and serene, and giggles to herself. The tall man is being clung to by at least four different children, some embracing his extremities like a koala to a branch, while others use his powerful form as a makeshift jungle gym. He doesn't reject the idea, nor does he scold the kids, but the vaguely mortified look on his face is worth a picture in itself.

"Told you they missed you," the caretaker says smugly. "Ever since Kaleo got adopted, they've been missing their big brother."

"I came here the other day, though," Gouten says back, grabbing a little girl by the back of her oversized red shirt with a single hand and holding her eye level. "Nice to see you too, Myrtle."

Myrtle adjusts her big, round glasses and smiles as brightly as the sun. "Oh, one day you won't be able to pick me up as easily!"

Gouten chuckles. "Yeah, one day. Keep at it though, you're looking better."

"Before the other day though?" Felicia challenges. Gouten has no response.

A gentle tug on his hair turns his attention to a little boy with a single pale, milky white eye. His other one though - caramel and vibrant - is reflecting the small smile Gouten sports. "What about me, big bro? Am I too heavy?"

"Please," Gouten teases, leaning back slightly and causing the boy to gasp and hang onto his hair tighter. "You hardly weigh more than a bird."

The boy sticks his tongue out and laughs, and Gouten removes him from his person and gently sets him on the floor.

"Man, I can't wait until I grow up," the boy says excitedly, "I want to be big and strong just like you, big brother!"

Gouten manages to keep his face neutral, but his eyes drift off to the side. "Big and strong like me, huh?"

"I wanna be just like you!"

'Not if I can help it, kid.' Gouten doesn't say. From here, he can see who remains of the orphans. There are only four here, which is both a good, and a bad thing. Good, in the sense that these innocent souls will be taken in by a good family like they deserve. Bad, in that stuff like that takes time, and sometimes people go faster than others.

He himself was never adopted, and had the displeasure of watching everyone come and go like the tides. He (liked to think he) was strong back then, and staved off the loneliness better than most, but he can't say he doesn't understand how these kids feel.

"Gather 'round, kids. Big brother has some news," He says as evenly as he could. He opts to not look at all the big, bright, doe-like eyes gawking at him and instead finds a spot on the ceiling that's fascinating. "I'm -" he pauses. "I'm going on a bit of a trip for a while," he eventually falls on. The children all groan and protest, but a single wave of his hand silences them. "Easy, easy. I'm not dying or anything," he clarifies to sooth the kids. "Just going on a bit of a trip."

"Aww, a trip?"

"Hele ana ʻoe ihea?"

"Yes, a trip. And I'm going to the States. Metro City."

Myrtle adjusts her glasses and gasps dramatically. "Isn't that a big city? You hate big cities!"

Gouten hums at that and chooses his words carefully, "Now what made you think I hate cities?"

"You never go with us to Honolulu," the girl says with a frown. "You're always busy on our trips or say you can't go."

The man's golden eyes reflected his contemplation, not that the kids could recognize that. But Felicia could. She has seen Gouten hide everything from her, and hide nothing. Right now it's a weird mixture of the two. She knows why he didn't go, of course. But they're much too young to know that the title of the strongest - the Blight of Hawaii - came at a heavy cost.

"That is true," He says coyly. "But I don't hate cities," A large, gentle hand is placed atop Myrtle's ginger hair. "I'm not a fan of them; too many people for my taste, but hate is a bit of a strong word there, little one."

"If you're not a fan, then why are you leaving?"

"Because... if we were meant to stay home forever, we'd have roots on our feet." He says lightly, hoping to change the mood of the room. He fails, of course, if the pouts and glassy eyes are any indicator. He thinks longer about the question. He could stay, and search for what had been home, or he could go, now, before the walls shifted again and the way out was shut.

"Sometimes," he says slowly. "Growing up means leaving home and becoming an adult. It's hard and it sucks, but it's just gotta happen sometimes," He pauses and looks away from the children and towards his former caretaker. She's aged like fine wine; the once vibrant blue hair fading into gray as it nears the roots and the indents of crow's feet around her eyes. She's looking at him with the same level of warmth she's always had, urging him on. "Sometimes, you just have to leave home. And you've been there for so long, you don't know who or what you'll be outside of it."

He can see it coming from a mile away, the waterworks that he was promised on the phone. Lips are starting to quiver and faces are starting to contort. Even Miss Felicia looks a bit somber.

"Hey," Gouten says, getting everyone's attention. He crouches down and speaks a bit softer as if telling an important secret."None of that. No crying."

"But - but - you're leaving us!" Myrtle says, running and hugging his leg.

"That's true, but what do I always say?"

"Wha -"

"Come on now," he says gently, "what do I always say?"

"We are ohana." They all say in unison.

Gouten nods. "And what does ohana mean?"

"Ohana means family, and family means no one gets forgotten."

"Will you forget me?"

"No!"

"Never!"

"Then," Gouten stands up and gives them a once over, golden eyes not lingering on anyone for longer than a few moments. He turns around and walks away without giving a second glance. He doesn't want them to see him with such a face; the aura of the strong, unbreaking older brother image they looked up to would be cracked if they saw the small pricks of tears in the corner of his eyes now. "There's nothing to be sad about." With that, Gouten leaves.

Gouten's first experience with planes was... not what he expected. After Miss Felicia dropped him and his singular medium suitcase off at the airport - and him wandering around for the better part of half an hour due to not knowing anything - he finally boards the plane for what will be a near 1o-hour series of flights. It sounded long on paper, and was even longer than he expected, but thankfully, things went off without a hitch. Sure, there were occasional people who tried to stop to make conversation, but aside from those brave souls, Gouten traveled in silence and in the recesses of his mind and dreams.

The emails he exchanged between Luke and Buckler were nice enough to give him directions and instructions on what to do when he landed, and even offered to pay for his hotel for the night until he could properly be settled in tomorrow. Getting to tomorrow though, will be his first start.

Landing at Metro City's airport and beginning his walk to the subway station on his phone's map is near overwhelming. Everything is so bright. Loud. Alive. The wet, desolate streets of the city rested in silence as the starry black sky wept over it. The water in the portholes shimmered by the glow of the bright, yellow street lamps. The small, green trees on the roadside swayed as the strong breeze hit them.

Above a faded zebra crossing, a traffic light frantically changed colors seeming rather like a disco light. A watchman snored comfortably on his dark brown stool under the protection of his shop's roof. Huge, giant buildings stood beside the street, quiet as if taken over by an army of libraries. Some windows gave out white and yellow lights, but the others were pitch black.

It seemed like the clouds had gotten a sudden fascination with the moon and wrapped themselves around it, and there were oddly no such visible stars, something he was unused to. The moon's faint glow passed through them, coloring them white from gray. A cool, crisp air blows into his face and he grimaces at the scent. The air quality is thick and heavy - probably from the constant influx of car smog - and the sides of the roads that weren't painfully illuminated by brighter, more vibrant lights than ones even seen in movies, were wet and a tad grimey. People crowded together outside of closed shops and apartment buildings, some whispering nothings to each other around a roaring flame.

"Hey!"

The aggression in the voice makes Gouten turn around, body visually lax but ready to move at a moment's notice. It's an older-looking salaryman in a nice two-piece suit and tie and wearing one of the angriest expressions Gouten has ever seen. He's pointing at someone - a man at roughly his age with a helmet on and a pair of dark-shaded goggles - and approaching him with malicious intent.

"Where the fuck is the rest of my order?!" He demands, "I asked for a large pasta bowl with garlic bread and a drink! Where's my garlic bread and drink!?"

"What drink?"

"My drink. My Diet Psycho Charge!"

"Screw you, dude," The delivery rider spits back, "I brought you your damn order! I didn't see anything about a diet psycho charge!"

"Are you calling me a liar?!"

"I ain't calling you for dinner!"

And like that, a fight broke out. The man in the suit swings first in a wildly telegraphed punch that a blind man could've seen coming. He reels back an overhand right that somehow lands squarely on the delivery boy's chin, knocking him clean off of his bike and into a small puddle.

Gouten expects a crowd to form, for some people to run in and to break it up or the police to be called. Or a combination of the three. But to his surprise, barely anyone bats an eye. There are a few people who stop to cheer on the fight, and a few others who take out their phones to record, but the vast majority barely pay the brawl any mind. It was jarring. Gouten blinks once. Then a second time.

"Hey, uh, you good?"

Gouten snaps out of his confusion when a hand taps his shoulder. He turns and sees a shorter Asian man with dark, forest green, curly hair, green eyes and a smattering of freckles across his cheeks. He's wearing a frankly hideous, multi-colored shirt with the word "FooTube" across the torso, fitted jeans and big, bright red shoes.

"No one's doing anything," Gouten says, turning his head back to the fight. "They're just fighting and no one's -" he blinks again, just in case his eyes were playing tricks on him. They weren't. He really did just witness the salaryman attempt a flying crane kick on a food delivery driver, only to miss wildly and eat a rather sharp uppercut. "- no one cares."

The man looks a bit sheepish and rubs the back of his head, messing up the mop of curls even further. "I wouldn't say that," he says coyly, looking away from the fight, "People care but, uh, not much. These two are pretty much always at it."

Gouten tilts his head in confusion.

"You're new here, aren't you?" The man points out. "I'm Caesar. Can I help you with anything? Being out this late in a new place can't be comfortable."

The Hawaiian man gives him a suspicious look up and down. Caesar is average height - maybe even below average if he had to guess - and fit but not really strong. He could definitely fold him in half with ease if he needed to, but the look on his face, one of such... genuine compassion and desire to help, gave him a pause. He stands there silent for a bit, pondering his next move before internally sighing.

"...Gouten," he says after a while. "And I'm a bit lost. Can you help me find Beat Square? My hotel isn't too far from there."

Caesar smiles and nods. "Yeah, I can. I live around there anyway, so it'll only take a quick train ride."

Gouten hums in acknowledgement and starts to follow the man, fight temporarily forgotten. Caesar is a strange one, he notes. He's talking about something - or a series of somethings in rapid succession - and speaks with such passion, that Gouten can't help but to listen in.

"World Warriors, huh?" He says absently. The subway station itself is much like the world above; dense, and with poor air quality. People are here too, some walking around, others waiting for their train and some people tucked away on small blankets in corners where the light didn't quite reach. They walk next to a group of vagabonds in rags and without missing a beat - without even slowing down or pausing his speech - Caesar reaches into his pocket and drops some money into their cup.

"Yeah, don't you know who they are?" He prods, looking a bit incredulous. "I thought you would since, uh, you looked like a fighter."

Gouten isn't sure whether or not to take it as a compliment or an insult, so he settles for a non-committal hum.

"But, uh, yeah. The World Warriors. They're not really a group or anything spectacular like that," Caesar explains. "They're just, uh, a group of warriors that helped in taking down Shadaloo."

Gouten had heard about that, many moons ago. The story was hard not to hear about, really. People bombarded him with it when it happened; though his origin was largely kept a secret from the general public and other orphans, some people knew. And those people were rather... thorough in making sure he knew.

'Bison's dead!'

'They finally took that madman down!'

'All of those lost souls can finally rest in peace!'

He remembers it all with an annoying amount of clarity. But one stands out to him more than any other. It came from the late Miss Edna, a few months before she retired.

'That boogeyman is gone now, child,' she said with a soft smile, closed eyes, and head tilted down in a quiet prayer. 'I'm sure you're happy to hear that.'

'No,' he thought then. 'No, I was not.' He blinks and suddenly he isn't stepping on the train to Beat Square. He's back behind the Maui Children's Home, shaking in exhaustion and fury. He's a teenager now, in his sophomore year. There's a burning rage in his very soul, not unlike a powerful acid, corroding his very being. The punching bag has dented and ripped under the force of his blows and his rage is so palpable that he can see the grass and flowers bend away from him, trying to escape his wrath.

He spent every day for the past few years thinking about this moment, the day where Bison finally died. He had fought a lot, hurt a lot of people, denied adoption on multiple occasions, and pushed his body to its limits all for the hope to one day get a shot at Bison. For revenge.

And then poof. Like the wind, Bison died. No fanfare, no broadcast. Little more than a passing headline on the news and then nothing. All of his time, wasted. All of his efforts dashed. He burned so long that he forgot how to stop.

'Damn it, Bison! Why am I not happy about this?!'

" - okay?"

"Hm?"

Gouten blinks and the memory fades and suddenly, he's no longer seeing his younger self; he's seeing a man with big green eyes filled with concern.

"I asked if, er, you were okay? You zoned out there for a bit."

"I'm fine. Just," his face shifts in such a way that Caesar makes an audible sound. "Thinking."

"You, uh, looked like you could use a drink or three."

Gouten snorts under his breath. "Quite the observation."

Caesar's face and cheeks go a bit warm and red and he looks away. "S - sorry, you just, uh, looked like you needed it."

"I don't have any money though," Gouten says. It's a partial lie, of course. He has the money, but he isn't sure if he has extra to splurge or not. To his surprise, Caesar doesn't relent.

"That's fine, I can get the tab," He responds easily. "Just so long as you don't drink anything super heavy."

Gouten hides his surprise well. Really? Just like that? There's no way this guy would offer such a thing to a stranger, no matter how mundane. He almost wants to deny the invitation, since historically, nothing good has ever come from him accepting anything from strangers. But he can't see any hostility or malicious intent coming from the man. He almost gives off the same aura of grace and peace as Miss Felicia, only far more awkward and anxious.

"...sure. Lead the way."

Caesar blinks, surprised. "Really?"

"You offered and didn't expect for me to agree?"

"No! I was just being nice but, uh - you just looked - uh, I kinda thought you would've said no?" Caesar says pathetically.

Gouten snorts again, despite his flat expression. "A shame," he says sarcastically. "Anyway, drinks are on you, dude."

The drinks are brightly colored, full of personality and taste awful. He only has a few and they all burn when they go down, but he can't say he doesn't enjoy the experience. Caesar is nothing if not a chatty man, and his smile and awkward charisma is something to witness. He somehow manages to give off the air of a seasoned socialite and a wallflower at the same time, and attracts the attention of some brunette woman in the corner of the room. They exchange glances when they think the other isn't looking, and before long, Gouten almost wants to say something but opts to sip his drink in silence. He's out of his element, and spends most of his time at the bottom of a glass or simply observing the people around them. The brunette and Caesar strike up a conversation to his right, while there's a group of loud burly men to his left. They've been giving him odd looks all night and it's making him a bit uncomfortable. Thinking to himself that he would rather simply leave now before a fight broke out, Gouten stands up and gestures to the bartender.

"Thanks for the drink," Gouten says before sliding some money to the woman with a decent tip and a nod. She winks at him and says something that he doesn't hear over the loud music and turns to Caesar. "See you around."

"Wait, you paid? I thought drinks were on me!" Caesar protests a bit louder than Gouten felt necessary. A small, cheeky smile appears on the Hawaiian's face. He reaches into his pocket and waves around a small, red, white, blue and yellow square.

"They were."

"Huh...? My wallet!"

Gouten tosses the wallet to the man and watches in amusement as he drunkenly fumbles with it before walking away, "Try not to be so trusting of strangers next time."

After getting a few hours of dreamless sleep in a decent hotel room, Gouten is up before the sun rises. The change in timezone is strange and he isn't quite as prepared for it as he thought he would be, but he's awake now and is expected to be at Buckler sooner rather than later. There's a chance he could get a few more moments of sleep, but hope is quickly dashed when his phone vibrates. He looks down and grimaces. It's that guy, Luke.

Luke: Mornin' dude and dudettes! I'm your coach. I added you to this group chat because it's easier to get you all at once.

Luke: Anyway! Head to Buckler Security Warehouse near the Bay Area. Eat big and get ready to work!

The chat erupts like a wildfire following the announcement and Gouten almost immediately turns off notifications for his own sanity. The Bay Area, according to his map, isn't too far away - if he takes a taxi, it should only be about 20 minutes - and figures that he could take it slow. He hopes that a little shadow boxing and a light workout could do him well to help clear his mind. His hopes are dashed when his phone rings. It's Luke.

"Dude!" Luke says far, far too loudly for the morning. Gouten winces and pulls the phone away from his ear, glaring at it as though it were the man himself.

"Yes?"

"I'm surprised you're awake honestly! I expected you to ignore this! But I get it. Waking up early, it's great. It's a bit like opening a Cinnabon mix. Once you open the mix, it's very hard to," Luke pauses and makes a sound as though he's deep in thought. "... once you open it, you're making cinnabons and you're loving it."

Gouten slowly pulls his phone away from his head and stares at it again; this time, bewildered. What the fuck was he talking about?

"Sorry about that, haven't had breakfast yet. Anyway, what I actually called for is that I want you to come in early, ahead of the pack."

"...why?"

"Because you have potential. And lots of it. A scary amount, actually. Like one of those rare items in a video game that you only unlock after a long, tough battle."

Gouten lost a fight to this man. He lost a fight to him and now he'll never be able to think about anything else. "...right."

"So, come on down a bit earlier, would'ya? I got a few questions to ask you too before everyone else shows up and I'd rather do it in person."

Gouten blinks and the memory of this man speaking to him on a beach in a faraway land bubbles to the forefront. I know what it's like to be a bad news kid. "Alright," he agrees. "I'll get ready now."