Good job, everyone, you made it to Friday! Also, happy belated Goku Day!
The sudden reappearance of Hit and Dyspo—and the fact they weren't trying to beat each other senseless—brought Top running over for an explanation. Dyspo, who was still pinching his nose to stop the bleeding, filled the referee in. Top nodded and then turned to the spectators to announce the results.
"We have a draw!" Top proclaimed, as though it was the most exciting outcome he could have hoped for.
With the show over, the audience made its way across the field. K'nsi and Cocotte sidled up to Dyspo and immediately began accosting him for details. Hit stepped away from them as though they were large, excitable dogs that might jump on him next.
"A pocket dimension? What even is that? How does it work?" K'nsi asked.
"What did it look like inside? Was it like my Cocotte Zone? How did you get out?" Cocotte added her questions to the melee.
"My nose is fine, thanks for asking," Dyspo muttered. "I don't know how any of it works, ask Hit. Or maybe try one of those scientists when they come to visit."
"They're botanists, not theoretical physicists," Cocotte said. "And Hit is, well, Hit."
"Then I guess I'll ask him for the details later. Not that I expect he's gonna just reveal the secrets to all his weird techniques. Or that I'll understand it even if he does," Dyspo said.
K'nsi and Cocotte realized that was the best answer they were going to get and stopped hounding their teammate. With them no longer crowding him, Dyspo tried to see where Hit had slipped away to. Sneaky bastard, always disappearing into another dimension…
Hit hadn't gone far. He'd avoided talking to Cocotte and K'nsi but, to Dyspo's immense surprise, was engaged in conversation with Top. Neither party looked completely at ease with the other but Dyspo didn't think he'd have to interrupt any murder attempts this time.
As though sensing the Pride Trooper's eyes on him, Hit turned his head slightly in Dyspo's direction. The rabbit had planned to avert his gaze but found himself staring.
He'd been miffed over the whole surprise-punch-in-the-face thing, but compared to what his headbutt had done to Hit, the assassin had let him off gently. Dyspo didn't even think his nose was broken. Looking at Hit, even from a side profile, Dyspo could see that a swath of the lighter, lavender portion of his face had bruised so deeply it almost appeared black.
Dyspo had never found an injury so attractive. Between the color transitions and the bold, avant-garde blood spatter, it could hang in a museum. The Pride Trooper made damn sure he had a copy framed and stored in his memories.
Hit and Top concluded their business with a handshake. The hesitation on Hit's part was only a matter of milliseconds—every survival instinct he had screamed that he was a lunatic for willingly putting his hand anywhere near that bear trap again—and if Top noticed it, he didn't comment. Hit received his hand back in one functioning piece.
Still entranced with playing art critic, Dyspo missed the first time Top called his name. He needed the sudden appearance of Hit directly in front of him to startle him back to his senses.
"What?!" The assassin pointed to Top, who was now beckoning Dyspo with one massive hand. "Oh, yeah, I'm coming. I had something on my mind."
"Get if off," Hit muttered. "At least until your fearless leader leaves."
Dyspo, accompanied by the object of his distraction, trotted over to Top. "I guess you've got somewhere better to be."
"Better? Not necessarily. But I have duties, as Marcarita reminded me, that I've put off for hours now. I wanted to clear the air with your guest before I left. And offer Marcarita's healing services."
"Of course, my Lord," the Angel said. She aimed her staff at Dyspo's face. For a second he thought she was going to tap him on the nose with it. Luckily no physical contact was required for Marcarita to work her magic.
"Have you ever had to heal someone twice in one day before?" Hit asked as the Angel instantly knitted bone and cartilage and banished the bloodstains from his coat.
Marcarita laughed. "Oh, yes! Lord Top, how many times did I patch you up during last week's 'misunderstanding' with Universe 4?"
Top frowned, though it was mostly obscured by his mustache. "Five. Quitela is a vicious fighter with no regard for common decency."
"He bites," Marcarita said in a conspiratorial whisper.
Hit would keep that in mind if he ever found himself facing the mousy god. Not that he planned to test his abilities against another Destroyer anytime soon. That lesson was well-learned.
"It looks like all injuries are fully healed, my Lord. If you're ready to depart?" Marcarita asked.
Top nodded and stepped beside the Angel. "I'll be in contact. Any emergencies can of course be directed to me. Just keep them to a minimum if possible."
"Next time we'll show you how the lake monster thing's going. K'nsi will probably have him jumping through hoops and balancing a ball on his nose by then," Dyspo said. He gave Top a lazy salute. With that, the Angel and Destroyer took their leave.
Once it became apparent Top wasn't going to urgently return because he left the stove on, Dyspo looked for something to occupy his time until nightfall. Luckily he had a ready-made project that would distract not only himself, but K'nsi and Cocotte as well.
"I have no idea when Top's going to pay us another visit, but he said he's looking forward to seeing how the lake monster training program is going," Dyspo said.
"Did you tell him it's going so well? Spot actually let me touch him a few days ago! I think, if we can find more of those soft yellow fruits he likes so much, I might be able to climb on his back without spooking him." K'nsi spoke with the pride of someone who had gotten their new puppy not only to sit, but also to stop peeing on the rug.
"Spot?" Hit asked.
"That's his name, but Dyspo doesn't like it," K'nsi explained. "I told him, calling Spot 'the lake monster' was going to discourage him and make him feel bad."
"Who names a giant creature 'Spot?'" Dyspo replied.
"He's got all those spots. They're his most distinguishing feature."
"Right, his spots, not his teeth or flippers or being fifty meters long."
"I like Spot," Cocotte said. "It's cute."
Dyspo threw up his hands, out-voted and defeated. "Fine, I'll see if I can find that fruit for, ugh, Spot. Back in a flash."
In the time it would take the average human to walk a city block, Dyspo hunted down the perfect grove, gathered an armload of the ripest fruit, and returned. He dropped the fruit in front of K'nsi.
"How's that? Good enough for Spot? Great, let's get this show on the road."
Cocotte used one of her barriers to contain the fruit and make transportation easier. She then hefted the impenetrable bubble and headed for the lake, K'nsi hurrying along beside her.
"You want to see how this plays out, or are you gonna do your 'I'm too cool for fun, I'm gonna meditate silently under a tree' shtick?" Dyspo asked.
"And miss you having to rescue your teammates from a monster's gullet? That sounds like the type of fun even I can stand for short periods of time," Hit replied.
Several hours later, two sodden, muddy, vaguely fish-smelling Pride Troopers dragged themselves from the lake and collapsed upon the shore. They were both grinning ear-to-ear and neither cared how filthy or exhausted they were.
"That was amazing," Cocotte gushed.
"Incredible," K'nsi added.
The female Pride Trooper sat up. "Do you know what would make it even better?"
"Costumes? No, wait, some fireworks!" K'nsi guessed.
"I was thinking some fresh poses—Top always appreciates the art-form—but yes, I love your ideas! Let's get to work on all of that. Tomorrow."
K'nsi tilted his head and a truly concerning amount of water trickled out of his ear. "Tomorrow sounds good."
The pair, half-supporting each other, got to their feet. After a quick wave to Dyspo and Hit—only one of which returned the wave, as the other had gotten bored of the antics after the first half hour—they took to the air, flying like drunken bumblebees.
"I didn't think they'd last that long, especially not after Spot threw K'nsi clear across the lake. At least we know they'll be too tired to do anything except head to bed," Dyspo said.
Hit opened his eyes. "Hmm, looks like we could meet in your room after all."
The rabbit instantly flushed. "It's probably best we don't take chances. Why don't you head out, I'll, uh, make sure they didn't drip mud all over the place. Yeah, cleanliness is next to justice, or whatever the hell Top always says."
Hit recited the coordinates Dyspo had given him earlier. The Pride Trooper nodded. "You'll know it when you see it. There's nothing, and I mean nothing, else out there."
"Sounds romantic."
"Hottest island getaway on the planet. You'll see what I mean."
One look around and Hit got the joke. It was the hottest island getaway because it had been magma up until recently. Very recently. It seemed a small portion of the island was still steaming.
Something else clicked in Hit's mind. When he'd first arrived, K'nsi had mentioned Dyspo checking on a volcanic island. It seemed likely, unless the planet was exceptionally productive along its tectonic plates, this was the place K'nsi meant.
Hit took a stroll while he waited. There wasn't much to see, just bare black rock surrounded by limitless ocean in all directions. It felt more like an ideal location for a hellish prison than a friendly chat.
"Here's what I'm thinking: we wait for a couple of months, see if the island gets any bigger, and then we open a resort! All proceeds go to furthering the causes of justice in the universe. You can be in charge of security."
Hit kept his eyes on the horizon but acknowledged Dyspo's appearance, if not his intentionally harebrained plans. "Did you run here?"
"Sure did. Other people like running on the beach, I prefer on open water. Lower impact for my knees. I'm also convinced that if there's a lake monster, the ocean's got to have something. I want to find it and give it a better name than Spot."
Dyspo hopped off the meager hill that served as the island's highest point. He approached the shoreline and, when Hit didn't react, took up a position near the assassin.
"So here we are," Dyspo said.
"Yes," Hit replied.
"And we need to talk." The Pride Trooper inched closer.
"Yes."
"And there's nobody else around." Dyspo took a step, then another.
"That was the point of choosing this location." Hit gave no indication the Pride Trooper encroaching on his personal space had any effect on him.
Dyspo gave up and sat down on a handy projection of hardened lava. "I don't know if you're messing with me, if I'm messing with me, if we're messing with each other or what."
"Is that your intention?" Hit asked, still surveying the ocean and pointedly ignoring the floundering Pride Trooper.
"Is what my intention? See, this is what I mean! I can't read you. I usually don't have this problem. It's all 'oh thank you for saving our planet, Mr. Pride Trooper, here's my room number' or 'is it true what they say about men with big ears?'" Dyspo groaned.
"What do they say about men with big ears?" Hit inquired.
"Come on, you really don't know? The same thing they say about men with big feet. Or hands. Or whatever big body part the man in question happens to have."
Hit shook his head. "I've never been asked anything of that nature."
Dyspo sat up a little straighter. "Okay, so don't take this the wrong way. Have you actually, you know, done it? Sex?"
"I'm not familiar with the act in question. What correlation does it have to the size of your ears?"
"Holy shit, really?!" Dyspo shot to his feet. "Never, in a thousand years?!"
Hit disappeared, which seemed like a pretty reasonable response to Dyspo. He wished he could likewise vanish because there was no way in hell he was giving a birds and bees speech to Hit. Maybe, while the assassin was either playing with time or hanging out in his pocket dimension, Dyspo could take off. He could be on the other side of the planet before-
A hand gently encircled the base of both of his ears. The Pride Trooper nearly jumped out of his skin.
"I know what sex is, and yes, I've experienced it. I also understand what large ears—or the body part of choice—are alleged to represent. And to answer your earlier question: is your intention for us to 'mess with' each other?"
Dyspo wasn't sure where his brain was, but it wasn't in his head. Which was a shame because he wanted to answer Hit's question with an emphatic yes.
The soft pressure around his ears released. "I won't do anything without your permission."
"If you don't put your hands back on my ears, I'm gonna headbutt you again!" Dyspo finally managed to spark a few neurons into making words.
Hit was happy to oblige him.
Yes, after six chapters and somewhere around 15,000 words, we are nearly there! Nearly.
Thanks for reading.