Team Hanamizu vs. The Porcelain Throne

I materialized in the digital overlay of the Kawaii Curds Co. factory, my vacuum cleaner avatar clattering across the augmented floor. The familiar smell of aged cheese and mold hit my sensors - or what passed for sensors in this virtual space.

"Kawaii Curds. No wonder they went bankrupt with a name that stupid."

The factory's interior spread before me, its abandoned vats and processing equipment pushed aside for tonight’s Dai-Bōku matches. Gomi's family had supplied all the milk for this place. She'd complained endlessly about their marketing team's obsession with putting cute faces on every product.

"Nothing says 'buy our cheese' like a winking mozzarella ball wearing a bow," I muttered, remembering their awful mascot.

Other avatars filtered in through various access points. No one paid attention to the cleaning device puttering toward the spectator zone.

I found a spot near the back of the viewing area, positioning myself between a paper bag avatar and what looked like a singular tentacle. At least I wasn't the strangest choice here.

The factory's main floor had been cleared, AR markers outlining the combat zone where the match would take place. Old cheese wheels were stacked like stadium seating, their virtual representations pristine compared to the actual moldy ruins beneath.

The AR interface flickered as the announcer's avatar - a walking, talking slice of swiss cheese - materialized in the center.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and digital entities of all kinds! Welcome to tonight's pre-top 16 qualifier match!"

I adjusted my vacuum settings to minimum as the crowd's cheers threatened to overload my audio processors. These early matches were never anything special - just newbies trying to make names for themselves with increasingly ridiculous designs.

"In the red corner, piloted by DuckTapeDestroyer, we have... QUACKSAW!"

A massive rubber duck mecha waddled into view, its wings replaced by rusty chainsaws that wheezed and sputtered. The yellow paint was peeling, revealing patches of corroded metal underneath.

"And in the blue corner, piloted by ToasterChan, we have... LOAF!"

The opposing mecha looked like someone had welded six toasters together into a vaguely humanoid shape. Burnt toast pieces shot from its chest cavity like projectile weapons.

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered as the two machines faced off. The duck's chainsaw wings revved pathetically while the toaster bot kept ejecting what looked like perfectly good bread.

The swiss cheese avatar raised its holey arm. "Begin!"

Quacksaw charged forward with a "QUACK!" sound effect, only to slip on a piece of buttered toast. The chainsaw wings flailed wildly, accidentally slicing through one of its own rubber feet.

"My beautiful duckling!" DuckTapeDestroyer's avatar - a human-sized rubber duck wearing a leather jacket - cried out.

ToasterChan's response was to unleash their ultimate attack - a barrage of bagels that bounced harmlessly off Quacksaw's rubber exterior.

The match ended when Quacksaw's remaining foot got jammed in a toaster slot. The crowd went wild, spamming emoji reactions that filled my visual feed with hearts and laughing faces.

"And the winner is... LOAF!"

The spectator avatars jumped and danced, creating a nauseating swirl of digital effects. The paper bag next to me inflated and deflated rapidly in apparent excitement.

Three more matches followed, each more ridiculous than the last. A mecha made entirely of recycled spoons fought against what looked like a walking vending machine. Then came some monstrosity shaped like a giant hamster ball versus a stack of traffic cones with arms.

"And now, for our final qualifier match of the evening!" The swiss cheese announcer spun dramatically.

My vacuum motor nearly stalled as Team Hanamizu's mecha stepped into the arena. Gone was our old clunky design - in its place stood a masterpiece of salvaged tech. Sleek chrome panels flowed into razor-sharp edges, each joint moving with liquid precision. Purple energy coursed through transparent conduits along its frame. The helmet was angular, with a visor that pulsed with data streams.

Holy crap, Nezumi. When did you learn to build like this?

Their opponent's mecha looked like... well, imagine if someone took a porta-potty, strapped rocket boosters to it, and gave it pool noodles for arms. The pilot's avatar was literally a toilet paper roll wearing sunglasses.

"Introducing... THE PORCELAIN THRONE!"

The crowd groaned.

The match started and my motor sputtered in disbelief. Our beautiful new mecha wasn't executing any of my signature moves - instead, it was... dusting the opponent?

"What the actual..." I watched as Team Hanamizu's mecha produced what looked like a giant feather duster from its arm compartment and began methodically cleaning The Porcelain Throne's exterior.

The crowd fell silent, then burst into laughter as our mecha pulled out a massive bottle of toilet cleaner.

Wait, you actually built cleaning tools into our combat mecha? Nezumi, what the hell?!

The Porcelain Throne tried to counterattack with a spray of... something I didn't want to think about, but our mecha gracefully pirouetted away while dispensing air freshener.

"Deploying Lavender Protocol," Cleansuke's voice echoed through the arena. The mecha's visor flashed purple as it initiated a complex series of movements that looked suspiciously like someone mopping a floor.

The Porcelain Throne charged, its pool noodle arms flailing. Our mecha responded by whipping out an industrial-sized roll of paper towels and wrapping up the opponent's limbs.

"Maximum Sanitization Protocol."

I watched in horror as our mecha produced a giant toilet brush and, with perfect form, began scrubbing The Porcelain Throne until it sparkled. The opponent's mecha short-circuited from all the cleaning products, collapsing in a pristine, lavender-scented heap.

The crowd went wild. The paper bag avatar beside me inflated so much it popped.

This is what you built? I seethed, my vacuum attachments rattling. A combat-grade cleaning bot? Nezumi, once I have my body back, we're going to have words about this. Many, many words.