At Least You’re Not a Toilet Brush

My wheels screeched as we skidded into the empty school hallway.

"Why am I even here?" Gomi flopped against the lockers. "This seems like a you problem."

"Because you got me into this mess!" My mechanical arm jabbed toward her. "The least you can do is help me fix it."

"Fair point." She shrugged. "But I don't see how watching you plug into some sketchy AR hub helps."

I rolled to my locker, entering the combination. "It's been a while since I last used this hub. Someone needs to make sure I don't, you know, explode."

"Explode?"

"Figure of speech." I pulled out what looked like a tangled mess of wires and circuit boards. "Mostly."

"That's your AR hub?" Gomi poked it with her foot. "Looks like something my cows would spit out."

"It's prototype tech!" I defended, connecting cables to various ports in my robotic chassis. "Besides, I had to build it from scraps. The government monitors all official AR hardware purchases."

"Yeah, because they don't want people's brains getting fried." She crouched next to me, examining the jury-rigged setup. "You sure about this?"

"Got a better idea?"

"We could just let Cleansuke handle it. Maybe being a cleaning robot will give it an edge in combat coding?"

"…Just help me connect these last few wires."

"Fine." She pulled out a strange-looking device. "But first, let me attach my Udder-oscope. It measures electrical impulses using technology I developed for tracking estrus cycles in-"

"I don't want to know. Just plug me in."

The hub sparked to life, circuits pulsing with an ominous blue glow. Gomi attached her bizarre cattle monitoring equipment to my frame while humming what sounded suspiciously like a funeral march.

The world pixelated and swirled as I entered the Akashic Net. My consciousness stretched and warped until-

"You have got to be kidding me."

I stared at my reflection in a digital puddle. The Akashic Net had transformed me into a sleek, floating vacuum cleaner, complete with rotating brushes and a translucent dust compartment. Even in this reality, I couldn't escape being cleaning equipment.

"At least you're not a toilet brush," Gomi's voice crackled through my audio feed. "The Net picks avatars based on your inner essence or whatever."

"Thanks. That makes me feel so much better." I tested my movement, hovering a few inches off the ground. The vacuum bag swayed as I accelerated, leaving a trail of sparkles in my wake.

The abandoned mall materialized around me in chunks of data. Holographic graffiti covered crumbling walls, and neon signs flickered with ghostly light. Other avatars crowded the space - some human-shaped, others taking forms ranging from furries to magical girls. A few gave my vacuum cleaner self strange looks as I zoomed past.

"Watch it!" A anthropomorphic toaster jumped out of my way. "The qualifiers are about to start!"

I followed the flow of avatars toward the mall's central courtyard. The space had been transformed into a massive arena, with floating platforms serving as viewing areas. Projections of previous tournament highlights played across broken store windows.

I floated up to one of the viewing platforms, my vacuum brushes whirring anxiously. Below, two massive mechas stood in opposite corners of the battlefield. One was a hulking brute covered in salvaged construction equipment parts. The other – Team Hanamizu's mecha – looked like a graceful dancer made of recycled traffic lights and street signs.

My digital heart stopped when I spotted myself – or rather, Cleansuke – in the control pit. Cleansuke had managed to log in using my credentials, but something had gone wrong with the avatar generation. My avatar, CtrlAltDie, usually clad in a sleek combat suit to keep my identity hidden, was now fully exposed– decked out in a frilly maid outfit, complete with a feather duster and a full arsenal of cleaning supplies.

"Is that...CtrlAltDie?" Someone in the crowd whispered. "What's with the outfit?"

"Maybe it's some new psychological warfare strategy?" Another suggested.

COMBAT START IN 3... 2...

The arena's holographic countdown began. My body straightened up with mechanical precision and began typing with inhuman speed. Lines of combat code streamed across the floating displays, but instead of attack patterns, I saw:

"Are those... cleaning protocols?" Gomi snorted. "Your mecha is going to try to sanitize the enemy to death?"

My body's fingers flew across the keys with terrifying efficiency. Our team's mecha raised its arms in a stance that looked suspiciously like it was holding an invisible mop.

1...

"This can't be happening." I tried to rush forward, but my vacuum form got caught in the crowd. "It's going to try to clean the other mecha instead of fighting it!"

The buzzer blared. My hydraulics seized as our mecha pirouetted forward, brandishing its traffic light staff like a feather duster. The enemy construct lumbered toward us, hydraulic fists raised–

Only to slip and crash face-first onto the arena floor.

"Did... did Cleansuke just polish the ground?" Gomi's voice crackled with barely contained laughter.

Indeed, our mecha had somehow buffed the battlefield to a mirror shine in the split second before contact. The enemy mecha flailed, unable to find traction on the now-frictionless surface.

My body, still in that ridiculous maid outfit, typed with mechanical precision. Our mecha gracefully skated across the polished floor, systematically disassembling the opponent's armor plating piece by piece. Each component was carefully sorted into neat virtual piles labeled "Recyclable," "Compost," and "Miscellaneous Waste."

"Your attention to proper waste management is appreciated." Cleansuke's voice emerged from my body, completely out of place in the battle arena. 

The enemy pilot's confused screams echoed through the arena as their mecha was literally cleaned apart, joints sparkling and chrome gleaming even as they were disconnected.

WINNER: TEAM HANAMIZU

As the crowd erupted in confused cheers, my vacuum form drifted closer to examine the dismantled enemy mecha. Something about those construction parts looked familiar - the specific way the hydraulics connected, the unique joint configurations...

"Wait. I've seen this design before."

The holographic blueprint flickered in my memory banks - a detailed sketch I'd glimpsed just hours ago, scattered across the floor with Nezumi's other papers.

"That's Nezumi's mecha design."