Lark shook off the vague voice in his head, chalking it up to spending too much time on Runesteam.

Instead, painful memories resurfaced from Junior year as he walked beside Wei. Of course, he hadn’t wanted to quit at a critical juncture of their play season, but the team should’ve understood family deaths took precedence over everything else.

“Do you know what Instructor Fuego wants?” Lark asked, shoving his hands into his pleated pant pockets.

“No idea,” Wei replied, his expression cold. And clearly, unaware of the mess inside his head.

The deafening silence returned and Lark tried to think of something to say for the minute when instead Wei told him to wait.

“Hey, man, let me be the first one to apologize. I know the way I acted earlier was not right to you.”

Lark tilted his head. Wei wasn’t way out of line for an apology and it's not like he didn’t understand how the team felt about him quitting last year.

“It’s no big deal. Compared to what I did to the team, I should be the one to apologize.”

Thinking the weird tension would blow over, Lark continued walking.

“—Then why haven’t you?”

A pause in his stride and he turned back with an equally as cold face. “You know how it is. Words can’t resolve loss.”

Wei lagged behind as if in deep thought. Not knowing whether this was an acceptable answer or a genuine response, the two walked with complicated feelings into Instructor Fuego’s office.

Inside the surprisingly uncluttered room, Instructor Fuego sat on his swivel chair, clicking away on his desktop. Lark saw the title at the top of the browser: Martial Arts Tournament.

“Great timing, I just printed these forms for you to sign.”

“Hold up.” Lark laughed as he perused the documents. “I’m new at this whole sparring thing, but are you actually recruiting us for a competition?”

“You two have the best potential in this school,” Fuego said with a glint in his eyes that was not missed by Lark.

“Be honest,” Lark encouraged, raising a brow.

“You’re a sharp one! I knew I was right about you.” Fuego slapped his thigh, chuckling. Wei took a step back as spittle flew towards him. “I made a bet with a friend of mine at another school. C’mon, help me out here. It’ll make you and me look good.”

“I’ll sign up.” Wei suddenly cut in, grabbing the form in front of Lark.

“Let me think about—” Lark was about to make a polite refusal when a small rattling sound passed underneath their feet, then a low whine followed. The three looked up at the walls, it sounded like it was coming from within the bathroom.

Instructor Fuego walked up to a small doorway representing the staff restroom. “You felt that boys? That’s the first time I’ve heard the toilet make such a rumble. I wonder if Coach is still in there?”

Instructor Fuego winked and knocked on the door. “Everything alright in there Coach?”

A louder gurgling sound answered through the door and Lark glanced at the ground. Water began to leak through.

“Phoo, Coach, you’re flooding the room,” Fuego said he grabbed his restroom key and unlocked the door. Then he tried to push against the lever, but the door wouldn’t budge. He tried again with all his strength to push until his trapezius and other back muscles scrunched tightly against the spandex.

Something that sounded like a foot crunching a plastic bottle caused Lark to step back. Water poured from the sides of the door and a large deep crack encircled the frame.

“Get away from the door!” Lark shouted, but it was too late. Water crashed over Instructor Fuego like an opened floodgate. Splintered wood and debris dropped on top of the instructor, and gray water continued to gush out. The room flooded inches above their feet, but their jaws dropped at the sight of Coach with his pants unzipped, punching a giant blob of moving water as it slowly hugged him in. They could see the whites of his eyes roll to the back as he passed out inside it.

Instructor Fuego heaved the board off of him and laid it horizontally in the doorway. “You kids get away from here!”

Lark shuffled out of the room, tagging Wei’s shoulder. “C’mon!”

As Wei staggered, Coach disappeared in a shower of white light and another two of those gray blobs climbed out of the toilet.

Shit. Shit. Shit. What the shit was that toilet monster? More importantly, was that actual shit in the monster?

Lark rushed into the gym’s storage room. In every fiber of his being, he knew somehow the cultists were behind this. His hand reached out for a wooden bat when Wei stumbled in.

“It got Coach,” he said exasperatedly.

“Here.” Lark threw a bat over.

“You want to fight it?” Wei asked, eyes widening, letting the bat clatter to the floor. “No way.”

“It’s for protection. Don’t be stupid,” Lark said as he peered out into the open area for sparring matches. If Wei was here, the monster shouldn’t be too far behind. Right on cue, a gray blob entered the arena. Its belly full of suspended pencils, staplers, and other office supplies, the slime rolled across the rubber mats in search of more victims.

Ugh. So gross. No wonder Coach passed out; that smell is insidious. Why did the kidnappers have to be made of toilet water? Lark suppressed a gag. He didn’t want to find out where the monsters took Coach, but he heard Wei sneer and huffed under his breath. “World-renown, my shit. It hasn’t even been a minute.”

Seems Fuego didn't make it. Lark racked his brain for a solution and spotted a cart holding rows of soccer balls. He whispered to the still fuming Wei. “Do you remember play five with the fake and sprint? You handle the striker position and get to the fire alarm.”

“Are you stupid?” Wei whispered harshly back.

“Stupid enough to escape a storage room. Look we don’t have time. No one else seems to know that there are weird toilet monsters kidnapping people. So are you in?” Lark repeated.

Wei gritted his teeth, grudgingly picking up the bat. “I’m in.”

“Okay, one, two, three…go!” Lark jumped out, dribbling a soccer ball. He kept an eye on the blob that hung out in the epicenter of the arena. Wei followed right behind him as they sprinted in a zig-zag pattern.

As if unable to decide whom to go after first, the blob hesitated, staying rooted in place. But its body focused on Lark and began inching forward similarly to a slug, but not at all sluggish. Lark shuddered as he passed the ball to Wei. Lark noted the blob’s movement switching over to Wei. Taking advantage of the distraction, he raced forward, swinging his club in a wild arc.

His bat sank into the target, but instead of creaming the monster, it felt like slugging through watery clay. The swing lost tempo and he heaved the bat out of the fluid-filled cavity.

The bat dripped gray sludge across the floor in a sticky mess. His hit shaved off a fourth of the monster’s original volume, but it was still moving energetically like it didn’t take any damage. Evidently, using blunt force was a weak tactic, but he didn’t have anything with a sharp edge on hand. If he had a knife, he could dice up this abomination like jello.

Lark circled the slime, backing away at an arm’s length when Wei entered his blind spot.

“Ready?”

“Ready!” Wei yelled, striking the ball. Lark jumped to the side as the ball zoomed past his waist; entering the strike zone with a powerful force.

Wei’s strike power improved. The soccer ball lobbed true and through the thickness, exiting the cavity with a few pens. Without giving time for the blob to potentially regenerate, Lark followed up the kick with another heavy swing as Wei sprinted towards the fire alarm and pulled it down.

All buildings in the vicinity blared.

Their combined attack dislodged another third of the slime’s body, but the slime acted as though it wasn’t a big deal that its body turned smaller. Frowning, Lark tripped up on his feet and stumbled. His sneakers caught in a wad.

“Watch out!” Wei shouted.

Unfortunately for Lark who was paying more attention to the ground, the slime charged. There was a sharp increase in its speed, now that it lost more than half its constitution and was able to come within a foot of him. As he yanked his feet out and shuffled around the arena, the slimed curved its reach as well, nearly catching hold of his shirt.

Get rid of that guy—he’s distracting you.

Lark’s eyes darted around the room. That voice—where did it come from? Was there someone else in the gym with them? Other than Wei, who was standing oafishly to the alarm, there wasn’t anybody.

Wei looked at him with hesitation, the bat shaking in his hands. Lark turned back to the slime and directed, “Get outta here.”

“…I’m gonna get help,” he heard Wei say, before dodging another lunge from the slime. The gym doors swung behind him and his watch beeped, giving him a small scare. An image of a computer and the words ‘meet’ came from Sky.

“Lucky me.” He pointed the end of the bat at the slime and announced its defeat. “I don’t have time to play around with you, so I’m ending it here with my next attack.”

The blob’s sides thrashed. If the gray blob had a face, Lark imagined it scoffing. He charged forward, aiming his swing at a light-colored disk inside it. “Your nucleus is mine!”

As if sensing danger, the slime did a strange dance. Shifting its body proportions around like a belly dancer, it squirmed.

“It’s no use!” His legs bounced from a forward position to the back of the slime. “Fakes are my specialty.”

His posture shifted as he wounded up his swing and poured all his weight against the viscous fluid.

Reach it! He pivoted his foot and twisted the bat all the way through until the lighter portion of the slime tore like a flattened baseball.

His shoulders sank in relief, watching the pens and staplers clattered to the floor along with the dissolved slime.

And a thousand EXP points goes to the evil dragon, he thought with a laugh. A toilet slime is nothing in front of an all-powerful dragon. Mwahahaha.

Toilet slimes...nope. Still gross.

As Lark stood there role-playing in his head something glittered in the gray puddle.