...Akira turned, a bit nervous from meeting one as tall and muscular as him.
(He reminds me of that tall, pushy, bulky kid I had class with in college once. Ugh. Such fond memories.) Akira shuddered. (Well, at least this guy will be more competition than that guy.)
Before he knew it, Akira was swimming his way upstream... through the numerous crowd fighters. He could see the demon-like one struggling through the crowd, hissing at those who keep bumping him.
(Guess I don't blame the guy,) Akira thought as another man shoved his shoulder into Akira's cheek, yelling "Watch it!" (Got some restless competition...)
There was a rush of wind, and a blinding gust of sand. Coughing, Akira opened his eyes to see the cloaked man -- the one he had run into earlier this morning -- sailing over the other fighters towards the arena.
Akira snorted. (Not a bad idea, but in a crowd?? That's a bit much.... Something tells me he's going to get some complaints after this... Jeez, it's times like this when I wish I had my angel or demon forms so I could fly over such traffic jams!)
Another man pushed his way in front of Akira, stepping on his feet. (Eya! These people have no courtesy!?)
As he was stuck in the middle of so many people (with hardly any movement at all, with officials up front trying to organize the dozens, maybe even hundreds, of fighters), Akira took a quick glance at the clock.
(5:54am, with 53... 54... 55 seconds... Time sure is moving slowly here.)
The picture of a mansion flashed in his mind. How he wished he was back there again. His home...
With sweat covering his body, and the snorting, yelling, and shoving of the others not helping the situation, Akira could feel his body beginning to grow tense in anguish and anger. So many pushy people. They all had the same destination -- why couldn't they all just get along? The power in Akira's stomach began to rise, and he could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
No. Now was not the time to get angry, let alone show what strength he possessed. Thinking of his wife and many friends back in Tokyo, Akira calmed and continued to flow with the crowd.
That is, until...
"Akira! Tanaka! HEY! AKEEEERA!!"
A familiar voice pierced the air, and Akira's eyes twitched. Who was that?
"Over here, stupid! Hey! Woah, don't push me!"
That voice... It couldn't have been...?
"Hey, quite pushing me! AKE-E-E-E-EEERAAHHH!!"
There were some rude comments from the others as the voice continued yelling. Searching all over, Akira's vision was somewhat blocked by a majority of the taller fighters... but what he was seeking was in plain sight, standing on the sidelines of the flowing stream of people. And after a few more moments of tense searching, he saw her.
It wasn't his wife, but it was someone else he loved deeply, a friend of his that has been by his side so long as he can remember. Surprisingly, she was not with any company.
"WHAT!!??" Akira screamed back. He couldn't believe his eyes. What was she doing here?? She had always been the mischievous type, but to go out days into the middle of nowhere? That was something.
After going through plenty of resistance, Akira managed to pull himself out of the river of fighters and on to the sidelines. And it was there he was met by a playful punch on the chest, and a sudden embrace.
"Akira! I'm so happy to see you! Whew, you smell! You know I don't appreciate smelly guys, hehehe."
The woman pulled away, revealing a red-haired beauty with a cute face. Her hair was tied with a small blue bow in a ponytail, while two spare strands flowed down to her shoulders in front of her ears. She wore a brown vest, and a plain white shirt beneath. She also had on a tomboy-like skirt, matching the vest. It was more like (very) short shorts than a skirt. Her sneakers tapped the ground impatiently, her baseball-lengthened socks reaching up to her knees. Akira gazed back into her fiery red eyes, and she smiled joyfully.
"Well, hello to you too, Misao," Akira remarked, pulling a small towel from his pocket and dabbing his forehead.
The redhead, Misao, beamed. "Since I can finally drive, Mikae allowed me to use her car here!"
Akira quickly put on a look of surprise, and stuffed the rag back into his pocket. "The mistress let you ride her car??"
Misao laughed. "Yeah. It wasn't easy, but she allowed me to. She gave me directions on how to find you, and also gave me some money for gas and food."
Money. Did Mikae know of the type of currency that was used in this city?
"I brought you a waterbottle. Here." Holding out a hand, Misao revealed an unopened plastic bottle of crystal-clear water. Hastily taking it, Akira popped open the cap without twisting and gulped down the water. He hadn't noticed it, but he was parched.
Wiping his face, Misao chuckled. "You must have been really thirsty."
"Ah... Yes, I suppose I was. I didn't notice it before, I was so busy with the tournament and all... Speaking of which, Misao, where are you going to watch?"
Misao pointed behind Akira, towards the Arena. "They have a special row to watch if you're friends or family of any fighters."
"Hmm, okay. Well, I guess I'll be seeing you. I have to get back in line!... somehow."
Misao gave Akira a giant, bone crushing hug. "Do your best! I'll be cheering for you!"
"Thanks, Misao." (I really needed the encouragement,) Akira thought, smiling.
Plowing his way through the fighters, he reentered the stream, his soul replenished and his fighting spirit revived. Now he had a reason to fight.