Forward, gladiators!

And look at those fabulous cowboy boots with spurs—and that wool cap with the visor,—Yuki added.

—Old school! Just like the one Dad used to wear back when he was obsessed with Linkin Park. Only… the boots don’t really match…

Yuki shot him a suspicious look.

—Since when are you our fashion critic? Personally, I like them.

—I think our very entertaining stranger is trying to say something. Speak, mysterious one!—the Glasses announced with ceremony as they approached the huffing Muffin. He scratched his neatly trimmed goatee and smacked his plump lips before asking:

—Was it you who emailed me?

—Uh… no.

He shook his head in shock.

—Well then, I’ll be on my way. Farewell. I was looking for some Yuki and Lil C.

Clinking his metal spurs, he turned to leave, but the kids shouted after him:

—Wait! That’s us!

Instantly, he spun around with a grin.

—Oh! Tiny tots, it’s you, huh?

He leaned in close, staring so hard he had to wipe away a drip of drool.

—You’re Lil C.,—he pointed with a brawny hand made of crumb-muscles. —Yo.

—Uh… yo. —The boy stammered.

—Your new album drop yet?

—Nope, haven’t even started it,—Lil C. scratched his head.

—Well, let me know, I’ll preorder for sure,—the Sweetest Giant in the World promised. —And you must be Yuki. But you didn’t summon me—he did.

—Wait, what?!—Lil C. blurted.

The Glasses intervened:

—Simple, my pupils. He is the form that Lil C.’s subconscious created. Just as Yuki birthed me, this delicious pastry is now his mascot.

—Awesome!—Lil C. jumped and high-fived his new friend.

—Yeah! But hold up—who are you? You look like the Glasses Mom used to wear. Are you their mom?—the Muffin asked.

—I am her thing, not her self,—the Glasses corrected. —I wasn’t given her personality or name. Sadly, I was never named at all…

She sighed, but the always-grinning Muffin chimed in:

—I got it! You’re not just a thing—you’re Mami.

—The dumbest nickname ever! Nonsense!—the Glasses huffed. But Yuki and Lil C. immediately started calling her that too. And that was it. The name stuck, like a stubborn sticker you can never peel off.

So, introductions done, they sealed their eternal friendship with solemn vows—which they promptly forgot two seconds later. Together they faced the basketball court behind the chain-link fence. Empty.

—We supposed to go in there?—Yuki asked.

—How should I know? I just stand here,—the Muffin—now officially Pom-Pom—shrugged.

—Then let’s go.

They pushed through the creaky gate and stepped inside together.

Something changed? Oh yeah. Transformations are the heart of any good adventure!

The moment they entered (or hoverboarded, in one case), the spiky chain-link shimmered into laser beams, glowing and crackling. A heartbeat later, the lasers vanished and turned into strings hung with fragrant flower blossoms, making the place look like a wedding reception. But not for long.

The beams reappeared, burned the flowers, vanished again—over and over in an endless loop.

—Sweet! It’s both a laser show and a flower shop in one!—Lil C. cheered.

—Pretty flowers,—Pom-Pom agreed, reaching for a carnation. —This one’s for our Mami.

—Look out! The beams!—The kids shrieked.

—Ow!—he yelped as his crumb-hand got lightly toasted. He sniffed it. —Nope. Not a fan of overbaked pastry.

—Ahem,—Mami tried to steer the subject back. —Maybe we should focus on what’s actually happening here.

And there was plenty to see.

The court hadn’t grown wider, but the hoops had stretched sky-high, towering dozens of Yukis and Pom-Poms stacked on each other’s shoulders. Guarding them stood a team—figures dressed in who-knows-what, looking rough and half-finished, their features jagged and glitchy.

—What happened to the graphics?—Lil C. gasped. —What year did they render these models? And why are they so jerky?

The players really did stutter along, freezing mid-motion, then twitching forward again, waving their cricket bats around instead of basketballs.

—They’re lagging,—Pom-Pom explained, and waddled toward them in the same glitchy fashion. —We come in peace, bat-on-legs people.

—Stand up and pull yourselves together!—Mami suddenly barked, her eyes fluttering angrily. —Show us who’s in charge here!

The glitchy game-characters froze, then pointed their fingerless hands toward a huge office desk shoved in the corner of the court.

It was buried in dust, along with the man slumped behind it—business suit, tie, the whole package.

—That’s the tired guy from the street!—Lil C. gasped, turning to his sister. —Remember? The last person we saw before the green room.

—That’s him alright,—Yuki nodded. —Only now he’s even more buried in his work…

And -buried was putting it lightly. On his desk, endless piles of paperwork spawned from nowhere. He shuffled them frantically from one side of the desk to the other, like armies locked in eternal battle. One stack towered higher, so he moved sheets back to even them out—then repeated, again and again.

—Busy gentleman,—Mami observed. —Perhaps he requires our assistance? You could become his assistants, and I shall, naturally, be his boss. I think I look the part.

Yuki was the only one tempted—she felt bad for the poor man crushed under the paper avalanche. But Pom-Pom was already chasing one of the glitch-players, begging for a cricket bat.

Lil C. cheered him on, shouting:

—Go, buddy! Grab one for me too—I wanna play!

The second he said it, the office worker straightened. One of the player models ran up and clipped a headset mic to his cheek, like a rock star. Then the man boomed in the tone of a seasoned commentator:

—Only Tomorrow! And only Today! The Greatest Match in the history of Crickball begins! On my right—the Team of -Old School Console! On my left—the Team of -I Have No Idea Who! Players, exchange greetings: handshakes or nods. First to score ten points wins!

Forward, gladiators!