.”[INT. TOURNAMENT ARENA – VENDING MACHINE HALLWAY – NIGHT]
The hum of vending machines fills the air. Daka, looking tired but curious, puts in a few coins and waits for the soda to drop. It clunks down into the tray below.
As he grabs it, he pauses—his ears catch something. Down the hallway, around the corner, he hears a familiar voice.
It’s Rizra. She’s talking to someone, her tone hushed but intense.
?
Rizra (muffled but audible):
“No… I haven’t told him yet. I don’t even know if I should. He’s changed. He’s happy now. Telling him might destroy that.”
??? (voice unknown):
“He deserves to know the truth. He’s not just some experiment gone right. He was built to be a weapon—and you know who made the call to unleash him.”
Rizra:
“Don’t say that! He’s not just a weapon anymore. He’s—he’s Hajime.”
??? (sharp):
“You think that name saves him? You forget what ‘Nata’ did? How many people he—”
Rizra (cutting them off):
“Stop! Don’t talk about him like that. He was just a kid. A broken one. And someone… someone tried to fix him by breaking him even more.”
??? (quietly):
“You’re delaying the inevitable. If he remembers, and if he snaps… not even you or Daka will be able to stop him. You know what kind of power’s sleeping in him.”
?
Daka freezes, soda can in hand. His expression hardens, the usual wind-chill in his soul becoming something deeper.
Daka (inner monologue):
“They’re talking about Hajime… about Nata. Again. More secrets. More things he doesn’t know. Things we’ve been keeping from him.”
??? (continuing):
“If he finds out the truth—about his origins, about Ivy, about the real reason Ray trained him—everything could collapse.”
Rizra (shaky):
“Then maybe I’ll take that risk. Because if we don’t believe in Hajime now, then who will?”
There’s silence for a beat. Daka steps back quietly, heart racing. He slowly walks away, his grip tightening around the soda can.
Daka (softly to himself):
“You really were born to be a storm, Hajime. But… storms don’t have to destroy. They can also bring change.”
He looks at the soda can, sighs, and walks toward the dorms—thoughts spiraling. INT. TOURNAMENT COMPLEX – HALLWAY – NIGHT]
Daka, still shaken from what he overheard, takes a long sip from his soda, trying to cool his nerves. But then—
Hajime’s voice cuts through the silence.
Hajime (curious but blunt):
“What does that mean, Daka?”
Daka chokes.
Daka (mid-gulp):
“PFFFFTT!!—ACK!!”
[He spits soda everywhere, coughing and nearly dropping the can.]
“W-what the—?! Hajime?! How long have you been standing there?!”
Hajime stands there leaning slightly, arms crossed, bandages still fresh but his sharp gaze fully awake.
Hajime (tilting head):
“Long enough to know you’re acting weird. You were mumbling something about storms and change. What are you hiding from me, Daka?”
Daka looks away for a second, face tense.
Daka:
“Nothing. Just a metaphor. You know… poetic thought. Soda-fueled wisdom.”
Hajime (deadpan):
“You’re a sword-summoning ice wind guy. You don’t do metaphors.”
Daka (sighs, rubbing the back of his neck):
“Look, it’s just… things are changing. Fast. You’ve changed. And that’s a good thing. I just hope… hope you stay this way.”
Hajime (raising an eyebrow):
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Daka hesitates. For a moment, it looks like he might spill everything—but he tightens up.
Daka (softly):
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“I just don’t want to lose my best friend again. That’s all.”
Hajime blinks. His face softens, his tone calmer.
Hajime:
“Daka… even if I change, even if I lose it again… punch me in the face. Snap me out of it. That’s what friends are for, right?”
Daka smiles weakly.
Daka:
“Only if you don’t vaporize me by accident.”
Hajime (grinning):
“No promises.”
They share a moment of quiet tension and friendship—unspoken truths hanging in the air, but not ready to be said just yet. [INT. TOURNAMENT COMPLEX – HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS]
As Hajime starts walking ahead—hands in his pockets, back slightly hunched from fatigue—Daka stares at him quietly, the soda can slowly crumpling in his hand.
Daka (internal monologue):
“He’s right… Hajime always faced everything alone back then. When we were kids… when he became Nata, the killing machine. No one was there. No one could reach him. Not me. Not Ivy. Not anyone.”
A memory flashes—young Hajime, blood-soaked, eyes hollow, sitting in a dark room silently sharpening a knife.
Daka (thoughts continue):
“But now… this Hajime laughs. He gets mad over food. Pouts when he’s benched. Faints when girls get too close. He fights for us. Smiles with us. Eats with us.”
He looks down at his golden fingers—then clenches his fist tightly.
Daka (vows silently):
“Last time, I let him fall alone. Not this time. Even if the whole world tries to drag him back into that pit… they’ll have to go through me first.”
He smiles to himself.
Daka (out loud, softly):
“You’ve got us now, Hajime. That’s a fact.”
Hajime glances back at him briefly, raising a brow.
Hajime (confused):
“You say something?”
Daka quickly masks his expression and waves it off.
Daka (grinning):
“Just talking to the soda can. He’s my emotional therapist.”
Hajime (flat):
“You need professional help.”
They walk forward in silence, but something has changed—Daka’s resolve is absolute now. No matter what past darkness rises in Hajime… he’s not going through it alone ever again. [INT. EMPTY TRAINING ROOM – MIDDAY – QUIET AND DUSTY]
Rizra leans against the wall, her arms crossed, staring out the wide window. The tension in the air is heavy. Across from her, Sei sits on a bench, legs crossed, his masked face tilted down like he’s lost in memory.
Suddenly, the door creaks open.
Daka steps in, holding a half-crushed soda can.
Daka (calm, but direct):
“So… this is where you two are.”
Rizra doesn’t react. Sei looks up slowly.
Sei (cool):
“You weren’t invited, Rock boy.”
Daka (shrugs):
“Yeah, and I don’t care. I heard everything, Rizra.”
She finally turns her head, surprised.
Daka (soft, but with weight):
“About how Hajime used to be. About what he did back then. About how you’re scared of what happens if those memories fully come back.”
Rizra looks away again.
Daka (firm):
“You think I don’t know how broken he was? You think I don’t have dreams of that version of him too? Ivy died in front of me because of him. And yet…”
He clenches the can in his hand, crumpling it completely.
Daka (with quiet conviction):
“Yet I’m still here. Still standing by him. Because he’s not just Nata anymore. He’s Hajime now. That idiot who says ‘rage on desu’ and nearly combusts when someone flirts with him.”
Sei (serious):
“You’re blinded by friendship. That doesn’t erase what he’s capable of. People like him—when they remember everything—they fall apart. Or worse, they go numb. He might go back.”
Daka walks closer, standing between them both now, his shadow cast by the soft light overhead.
Daka:
“And that’s why he needs us. Now. Not after. Not when it’s too late. We’re not going to let him fall into that pit again.”
Sei (scoffs):
“And what if it’s not a pit? What if it’s who he really is? A demon in human skin?”
Daka (cold stare):
“Then I’ll remind that demon what it means to have friends. What it means to love, to laugh, to live. Even if I have to punch it into him with every golden sword I’ve got.”
Rizra looks up at Daka, stunned. Sei’s masked face hides any emotion, but something in his posture relaxes slightly.
Sei (quietly):
“…You really believe he can stay who he is now?”
Daka (nods):
“I don’t believe it. I know it. Because this time… he’s not alone.”
Silence hangs in the room for a moment. Then Rizra smiles faintly—just for a second.
Rizra:
“…You’re still soft, Daka.”
Daka (grinning):
“Yeah? Well maybe being soft is what’ll save him.”
They all stand there in quiet understanding.
[TOURNAMENT STADIUM – NEXT DAY – THUNDEROUS CROWD NOISE]
ANNOUNCER (echoing through the stadium):
?? “Ladies and gentlemen!! Welcome to the Quarterfinals of the Striker Tournament!! And today’s match is one you’ve all been waiting for!!”
[CAMERA SWEEPS across the massive arena, fans screaming, holding up signs for both teams. On one side, Team Music Strikers, focused and ready. On the other, Sei’s mysterious team, their aura unnerving and cold.]
?
ANNOUNCER (excitedly):
?? “Introducing first… from the rising stars of the Music Club, a team with fire, heart, and chaos!”
?? “First up — the fiery feline herself, the evolved Itsuki bloodline — SOCKOO ITSUKI!!!”
(Sockoo steps forward, intense and calm, her sharp pupils glowing lightly, hands blazing with fiery energy. The crowd screams in wild support.)
?? “Second — he’s the gunslinger with deadly aim and a smirk to match — MAKOTO NYJIMA!!!”
(Makoto spins one of his pistols and tips his hat to the crowd. A few hearts in the audience melt.)
?? “Third — the mystery of infinity, the silent magic storm — YU MADERUMA!!!”
(Yu waves slowly, his Infinity Magic already circling subtly around him. Even his casual stance radiates pressure.)
?? “And finally — the muscle and menace, the brawler of burning fists — RIZRA HAMAMORI!!!”
(Rizra cracks her knuckles and throws one sharp punch in the air, making a sonic burst — the crowd roars.)
?
ANNOUNCER (voice drops to an eerie tone):
?? “And now… their opponents. Known for precision. Known for silence. Known for victory.”
?? “First — the masked ghost with speed and shadows — SEI!!!”
(Sei walks calmly, hands in pockets, eyes glowing faintly behind the mask. The air feels heavier.)
?? “Second — the illusionist of the cursed veil — NINA THE MIRROR MAGE!!!”
(A girl with silver hair and purple eyes waves, creating mirror shards that float around her like petals.)
?? “Third — the blade of the cold — KAI ZETSUGA!!!”
(A boy with frost trailing from his boots and a giant sword made of crystal slams it down as he enters.)
?? “And fourth — the anomaly, the unknown — NOX!!!”
(A hooded figure says nothing. Even the announcer seems uneasy. Nox simply floats forward, hovering slightly above the ground.)
?
ANNOUNCER (with final flair):
?? “THIS IS — MUSIC STRIKERS VS. SEI’S TEAM!! LET THE BATTLE… BEGIN!!! ??”
?
[BATTLEFIELD – TIMER STARTS – TEAMS RUSH INTO POSITION]
Rizra to Makoto:
“You ready to break some bones?”
Makoto:
“As long as it’s not mine, yeah. Let’s rage it.”
Yu (calmly):
“Keep eyes on Nox. Something about him is… off.”
Sockoo (focused, voice low):
“Sei’s mine. He knew Nata. I want answers.”
The battle aura crackles. Mirror magic glints. Frost spreads across the floor. Nox hums with unnatural pressure.
And somewhere… Sei narrows his eyes behind the mask, whispering:
“Let’s see what Hajime’s legacy really became.”
NT. BREAK ROOM – QUIET – LIGHT SNORING]
Hajime’s body rests slouched over a table, arms crossed like a pillow. His breathing is calm—but his mind is not.
?
[DREAM – BLACK VOID — THEN FLASH OF BATTLE]
Flames and wind howl. The earth cracks beneath two warriors. Hajime — younger, battle-worn, face twisted in desperation — lunges forward. His opponent moves like a phantom, elegant, merciless.
That man again. The one from the recurring dream.
But this time… this time it’s not hazy.
This time, Hajime sees his face clearly.
“…No way.”
It’s Streetka.
Sockoo’s older brother. The man who nearly tore everything apart.
?
FLASHBACK WITHIN THE DREAM:
Hajime’s own corpse lies cold. His chest torn. Blood soaked. Streetka looms over him, placing something strange — a glowing core, glitching — into the body.
STREETKA (coldly):
“Let’s see how far you go, Nata.”
?
[INT. BREAK ROOM – PRESENT]
Hajime jerks upright — eyes wide — gasping, sweating.
“That… that wasn’t just a dream…”
[GLITCH—Hajime’s vision distorts—his hand twitches involuntarily.]
Suddenly, a voice echoes in his head, distorted, warped.
GLITCH HAJIME (whispering inside his mind):
“Took you long enough.”
HAJIME (out loud):
“You… You’re not me.”
GLITCH HAJIME:
“Oh, I am. Just… the version he made. Streetka didn’t kill you out of mercy. He rebuilt you. I was born the moment you died.”
HAJIME (gritting teeth):
“Why? Why show yourself now?!”
GLITCH HAJIME (amused):
“Because you saw it. You remembered. And now you’re ready to ask the question…”
Hajime clenches his fists as blue sparks flare around him.
“How many times have I died…?”
GLITCH HAJIME (smirking in his mind):
“That’s the first real question. But answers? Heh… I don’t owe you those.”
Hajime’s vision warps again — a sharp wave of static — but he slams his fist into the wall, grounding himself.
“I don’t care what you are. I’m not your puppet. You’re in my body.”
GLITCH HAJIME:
“For now. But the more you use power like that ‘phoenix’… the more I wake up.”
?
[INTERCOM BUZZES]
“Team Music Strikers, match begins in ten minutes. Please report to the gate.”
?
Hajime exhales sharply, his eyes narrowed.
“Streetka… You did something to me.”
“And I’m gonna burn the truth out of you — with my own hands.”
?
[INT. LOCKER AREA – HAJIME WALKS OUT]
He grabs his boots, slipping them on fast, lacing tight. Storyshift in sword form leans against the wall, glowing faintly.
STORYSHIFT:
“You okay, Young Master?”
HAJIME (quietly):
“…Not even a little.”
He puts her on his back and walks forward, expression unreadable. The fire in his eyes is different now—burning with purpose, but shadowed by questions he’s no longer afraid to ask.
