Chasing the Crown

Miyuu adjusted her favourite pink coat—the same one she’d been wearing when they slapped cuffs on her. It hadn’t seen daylight since her arrest but slipping it on tonight made her feel just a little more like herself.

K.A.T.O. dangled under her arm in his stuffed animal form. On the outside, he looked like a comfort object for emotionally fragile toddlers. On the inside? A precision-engineered death machine waiting for its time to shine. Tonight, he was finally going to pull his weight.

Her plan was solid. The student council wouldn’t be back until 9 PM, and she’d mapped everything out to the minute: head to the Circuit Pit, obliterate the competition, finish by 8:00, and stroll back to the manor by 8:30 with thirty glorious minutes to spare.

Of course, none of that would’ve been possible without her most recent stroke of genius: hacking her student device’s location tracker. It wasn’t easy, but after three hours of simulated decoys, signal bouncing, and one terrifying near-miss where her firewall almost fried, she’d managed to reroute her position on the council’s monitoring system. Now, as far as their logs were concerned, she’d be enjoying a quiet evening in the Manor.

She flashed a grin. “I love being a genius.”

“Enjoy the self-congratulations,” K.A.T.O. quipped, his voice coming from somewhere under all that fluff, “but last I checked, geniuses also plan for contingencies. What’s your backup when this inevitably explodes in your face?”

“Relax. Nothing is going to explode.” She muttered, pulling out her student device. The clock read 5:30. They were right on schedule.

“Famous last words.” K.A.T.O. said.

Miyuu rolled her eyes and tuned out K.A.T.O.’s relentless pessimism, her eyes flicking to the quiet street. A figure stood under a dull streetlight, weight shifting from foot to foot like they’d spent the last ten minutes debating whether this was the dumbest idea of their life.

Natsuki. Backpack slung over one shoulder, hair twisted into her signature side braid, and a look on her face that screamed deep, life-altering regret. When their eyes met, Natsuki’s shoulders sagged in visible relief, her expression softening. It was almost enough to make Miyuu feel bad for making her wait.

“You came,” Natsuki said, her voice tight with nerves.

“Of course, I came,” Miyuu replied, brushing off the tension. “I’m not the type to bail on a fight.”

The area was part of the campus’s industrial zone, a mechanical playground where mech-obsessed students brought their fever dreams to life—or attempted to, judging by the smoking wrecks and twitching bots, success was, at best, an occasional side effect.

The air reeked of engine grease and burnt circuitry, an oddly comforting smell. Miyuu found it nostalgic. She inhaled deeply, letting the acrid tang settle into her lungs. “This way,” she said, gesturing for Natsuki to follow as they tracked the glowing dot on their devices.

The cracked pavement was a minefield of discarded parts, jagged shards of metal, and wires slithering out of trash piles. A rat skittered past, and Natsuki yelped, clutching her backpack like it was a shield. “This is… this is fine. Totally fine,” she stammered, trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

Miyuu rolled her eyes but said nothing, sidestepping what looked like the remains of an android’s severed leg.

At the end of the alley stood a battered metal door, its peeling paint valiantly trying—and failing—to hide the rusting steel beneath. Someone had even gone to the trouble of scratching profanity into its surface. Classy.

Miyuu pressed the buzzer, and a distorted voice crackled through the speaker.

“Password?” It demanded.

Miyuu leaned in, “Chase the crown.”

The door buzzed angrily before unlocking with a loud clunk.

She shoved it open, revealing a narrow staircase that spiralled downward. The steps looked like they’d been cobbled together from scrapyard leftovers—cracked, uneven, and suspiciously sticky in some places. Harsh LED strips ran along the walls, bathing everything in a sickly yellow-green glow that could probably double as a biohazard warning.

Behind her, Natsuki lingered at the top of the stairs. "This feels... off,” she whispered.

Miyuu didn’t bother looking back. “Of course, it’s off.” She said, already stepping down. “It’s underground bot fighting, not a bake sale. What were you expecting? Complimentary cupcakes?”

The bottom of the staircase opened into an antechamber, its walls streaked with grime and neon signs that flickered erratically, casting random patches of the room in seizure-inducing bursts of pink and green. Industrial fans hung limply from the ceiling, doing a terrible job of circulating air.

A row of mismatched lockers lined one wall, their doors plastered with graffiti, peeling stickers, and the occasional unidentifiable smudge. A few students loitered nearby, hunched over their bots, making last-minute adjustments. Their gazes flicked to Miyuu and Natsuki, sizing them up in a way that made Miyuu casually adjust her grip on K.A.T.O.

On the far wall, a series of numbered metal doors led to what Miyuu quickly deduced were holding cells. The muffled hum of servos and the occasional clink leaked out.

Before they could get their bearings, a boy in oversized goggles appeared, stepping out from a side door and grinning like he’d been waiting for them. His black jumpsuit was splattered with streaks of neon blue and orange graffiti, and his mop of chocolate-brown curls stuck out in all directions, like he’d styled his hair by sticking a fork in an outlet.

“Welcome to the Circuit Pit!” He announced, his grin entirely too cheerful. The light bounced off his goggle lenses, giving him a strange, bug-like appearance. “Name’s Nakamura Kenji, but everyone calls me Bolts.” He scratched his head with a wrench, still grinning.

Before either of them could respond, he barrelled on. “First time, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through it.” He waved his wrench around like it was part of his nervous system, gesturing for them to follow as he strutted through the cluttered space.

“Here’s the deal.” He said, pointing the wrench at a series of numbered doors. “Your door number matches your tag. When your match comes up, your door opens, and bam—you step into the pit. That’s your moment. Fight, win, or get absolutely wrecked. Either way, the crowd eats it up. They love a good show.”

“The crowd?” Miyuu muttered, her mind immediately snapping to SOLON. No way something this loud, chaotic, and blatantly against the rules was happening without his all-seeing code knowing. The owl sends her reminders to hydrate and corrects her grammar mid-text—there was zero chance he hadn’t clocked a full-on campus-wide bot fight.

But then it clicked. Haruki’s voice looped in her head: Accumulate enough XP, and you could practically run a section of the campus.

Bolts must’ve caught her sceptical look because he snickered. “Crowd's big tonight,” he said, jabbing his wrench toward a grated staircase that spiralled upward to the spectator seats.

“They’ll be shouting, throwing XP around, and betting on you—or against you. Depends on how much they like your face.”

Miyuu shot Natsuki a sidelong glance. Her friend’s grip on her backpack had turned white-knuckle, but she managed to ask, “You can really win XP doing this?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Bolts replied with a wink. “The Crown always delivers on their promises.”

Miyuu tilted her head. The Crown. Natsuki had given her the rundown—a secret society of thrill-seeking students with too much XP, too much money, and way too little common sense. Basically, rich kids playing high-stakes games because heaven forbid they experience boredom.

They must’ve used their XP to lock down this section of campus, effectively making it their playground.

That would explain why SOLON wasn’t tattling to the Student Council. As long as nobody died, and the school’s grade averages didn’t nosedive, SOLON probably wouldn’t bat an LED.

He crossed his arms, looking pleased with himself. “Win a match, you get 5 XP. Lose, and you’re out. Simple as that.”

For context, she earned a grand total of 2 XP every time the Student Council made her do something soul-sucking and humiliating—like community gardening or alphabetizing the library’s bot repair manuals. This sounded like an actual cheat code. Too good to be true. In two hours, she’d make what normally took her a week and a half of drudgery. Either this was the jackpot, or she was about to discover the catch of the century.

Miyuu narrowed her eyes. “And if you don’t lose?”

“You can keep playing until you’re either satisfied or the crowd gets bored. Your call. So,” he tilted his head, “how many games are you signing up for?”

“Three,” Miyuu said without hesitation, cutting Natsuki off before she could spiral into overthinking mode. Three rounds should be enough to rake in some XP and get back before the Student Council came home to ruin her life.

Bolts pulled a small scanner from his jumper pocket. Miyuu and Natsuki held out their student devices, and with a beep, two metallic tags popped out of a compartment.

“Seven for you,” Bolts said, slipping Miyuu the first tag with a smirk that suggested he was betting against her. Then he turned to Natsuki. “And eight for you. Right next to each other. Try not to make too much noise in there, yeah? The audience prefers their drama in the pit.”

Miyuu flipped the metal tag in her hand. She glanced at the rusty door marked with her number, then turned to Natsuki, who was clutching her own tag like it might spontaneously combust. Miyuu frowned. Natsuki didn’t exactly radiate confidence, but she’d said she had a plan. Miyuu just had to trust her on that.

“Don’t disappoint, SEEDs,” Bolts added with a grin as he sauntered off. “The crowd loves an underdog.”

Underdogs, huh? She wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be encouraging or a polite way of saying they were "easy prey."

Miyuu took a steadying breath and gave Natsuki a brief nod. “See you on the other side.” She muttered, tucking the tag into her coat pocket before stepping through the door.

The holding cell was barely big enough to pace in, not that she’d try with the floor looking like it might give her tetanus through her shoes.

The door she’d just come through clicked shut behind her, while directly opposite it, there was another door— heavier, wider, and bearing enough scratches and dents to tell her exactly where it was heading. The pit.

A metal desk sat against the wall, scattered with tools that looked like they’d been forgotten there for a decade. Miyuu dropped K.A.T.O. onto the desk and then claimed the wobbly bench for herself. She sat down carefully, half-expecting it to collapse under her.

“This place has a real ‘we bury the losers out back’ vibe.” She muttered, her gaze sweeping the room.

“Charming, isn’t it?” K.A.T.O. replied. “The perfect setting for our imminent demise. Five stars. I’ll leave a glowing review.”

She leaned back, staring at the cracked ceiling. “You’re really a glass-half-empty kind of bot, aren’t you?”

“I’m a glass-half-realistic kind of bot,” he shot back. “And speaking of realism, you look nervous.”

Miyuu tapped her fingers against the edge of the bench, the rhythm steadily increasing as her nerves refused to settle. With a huff, she forced them still. “It’s just... I’ve never done a fight like this with you before. Usually, it’s remote-controlled rigs or disposable bots. Not—well—you.” She waved vaguely at K.A.T.O.’s fluffy form, like that explained everything. “I don’t exactly have a spare K.A.T.O. just lying around.”

It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought this through. If things went sideways, K.A.T.O.’s core would zip back into her wrist node, safe and sound. No harm, no foul, right? The logic was solid. But logic didn’t do much for the knot twisting in her stomach.

“Aw, you’re worried about me.” K.A.T.O. somehow managed to look even smugger, which, frankly, she hadn’t thought was possible.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she snapped, her fingers resuming their nervous drumming. “You’re just expensive. And time-consuming. And irritating to build.”

“Admit it,” K.A.T.O. said. “You’d miss me.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. “Whatever. Let’s not blow this, okay?”

“Blow this?” K.A.T.O. sounded genuinely offended, like she’d just suggested he was powered by AA batteries. “I’m a one-of-a-kind, cutting-edge masterpiece. If we lose, it’ll be because you tripped over your own feet.”

“Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence.” She deadpanned.

“Always here to support you.” He replied with insincere cheer. “But seriously, we’re good. It’s highly improbable that there’s a student out here with tech capable of giving us a real challenge.”

She let his words sink in, her lips twitching into a half-smile. Like flipping a switch, her confidence clicked back into place. “You’re right. We’ve got this.”

It wasn’t long before the tag in her coat pocket started buzzing insistently. The heavy door let out a groan, shuddering as it dragged itself open. Metal screeched, gears ground, and finally, with a loud clunk, it revealed the path beyond.

“Well,” K.A.T.O. said brightly, “time to dazzle the crowd. Try not to embarrass us, yeah?”

Miyuu rolled her shoulders, scooping K.A.T.O. up from the desk. “Embarrass us?” she scoffed. “I’m about to make us legends.”

Without a second’s hesitation, she stepped through the doorway.