In the dimly lit confines of Bojo's Dome, the dust settled as the battle came to an end. Aziza, the fiery sorceress, stood up and brushed off the dirt that clung to her dark cloak. She turned to address her stoic companion, Gmakame.
"You sure we should have let them go, Gmakame? Better late than never," Aziza quipped, her voice tinged with exasperation.
Gmakame rose to his feet, his cloak concealing his true form until now. With a swift motion, he extracted a spear that had pierced his gut and placed his palm over the wound. An intricate technique mended the damage, leaving no trace of the injury. He dropped his cloak, revealing his striking features - black hair long hair with some of it typed in a bun, a face younger than his years, and fatigue evident in the bags under his eyes. Despite his scrawny build, he possessed an undeniable handsomeness.
"We follow our orders first; anything else is secondary," Gmakame responded in his usual dull tone, ignoring Aziza's playful banter. Aziza let out a sigh and wiped her face, her frustration evident.
"You're always so uptight, ugh! Get a life outside your job; it'll help in more ways than one," she chided, referring to Gmakame's appearance. However, he paid her no mind, scanning the area for any sign of their target, Jotar.
"Hey, Aziza," Gmakame finally inquired, "have you seen Jota—"
Before he could finish his sentence, the ground beneath them rumbled, and a jubilant figure burst forth. Jotar emerged from the earth, letting out an exuberant shout of excitement.
"Man! Those kids were awesome!" Jotar exclaimed. "The one with the staff was the shit, but it's gotta be what's his name... umm, BOJIN! Yeah, that's my guy! That last punch spoke to me, you know?"
Aziza couldn't resist a snide comment. "And what did it tell you? That you're an oversized meathead who got sent six feet deep by a kid?"
Jotar, undeterred, retorted, "I wasn't talking to you! You're one to talk
,clothes ripped up and all by some runt."
Their argument escalated, their voices growing louder, and it seemed they were about to exchange blows. However, Gmakame swiftly stepped between them, his palms on their stomachs, and using a controlled burst of energy, sent them flying in opposite directions.
"That's enough. Let's just head back and make the report," Gmakame stated in his usual, monotone voice, although the memory of Rafa's words echoed in his mind. "Tch! We'll meet those brats again soon enough."
Jotar laughed and playfully messed up Gmakame's hair, while Aziza joined in, her laughter muffled by her hand.
"Don't tell me... you'll do it?" Aziza teased.
Gmakame, still feeling the effects of his earlier wound, rubbed his stomach, then examined his palm. "They're different," he admitted, "but not enough to force me out of holding back."
Aziza cast a spell to mend her torn clothes and wounds, and Jotar stretched and cracked his neck and knuckles.
"Just kids gave me much more fight than most thugs these days," Jotar remarked as he continued to stretch. "That's the spot, alright!"
Aziza checked the time and prompted them, "Time to go?"
Gmakame nodded, and Aziza used her magic to open a portal. They all donned their cloaks, revealing the insignia of Ganban's special forces embroidered on the backs. Aziza signaled that the portal was ready.
Gmakame had one more comment before they departed. "And oh, Jotar?"
Jotar turned his attention to Gmakame.
"I'm not patching up that arm," Gmakame warned with a hint of a smile.
With that, Gmakame entered the portal, and Aziza playfully teased Jotar before following suit. Jotar laughed, shook his head, and entered the portal as well.
"Yep, I figured," Jotar remarked with a chuckle, as he stood beside them.
Meanwhile, in the aftermath of the battle, Rafa and his friends began their journey back to rejoin the rest of their class. Rafa felt a bit lightheaded after the intense fight, using his staff to support his walking. Eventually, he lost his balance completely, tripped, and fell to the ground. Through his eyes, the world appeared blurry, with Bojin and his classmates surrounding him, their voices distant and unintelligible. Rafa struggled to maintain his awareness but finally succumbed, closing his eyes and blacking out.
Several hours later, Rafa's eyes slowly fluttered open. He found himself in his own room, struggling to sit up on his bed. His staff lay nearby. He heard the sound of running water from the shower and, out of curiosity, approached the bathroom door.
A soft, humming noise emanated from within. Rafa leaned in closer to listen, his curiosity piqued.
As he did so, the bathroom door suddenly swung open, and Rafa tumbled forward, grabbing onto a towel at waist level to break his fall. He ended up on the bathroom floor, still clutching the towel. The humming ceased, and the person in the shower turned to face Rafa, their eyes locking. Rafa's gaze shifted from the person's face to their...well let's say their spear. Then back to their face.
"ERHHHH!" Rafa exclaimed, his eyes wide as saucers as he looked up and down in bewilderment. "BOJJIN!"
Rafa's eyes darted between his own pants and Bojin's and then back to Bojin's face before he dramatically fell unconscious again. Bojin, still bewildered, knelt down, holding Rafa in his arms.
As the scene shifted, Bojin and Rafa had made their way to the Ganban Main Town Market. Bojin, with an infectious smile on his face, walked through the bustling market, while Rafa, who had recovered, sulked by his side. Bojin was the embodiment of the people's favorite, greeting vendors and even helping the elderly with their bags. He waved to an elderly woman he had just assisted and jogged back to Rafa, trying to engage him in conversation.
However, Rafa remained in a sour mood, responding with a simple "hmph" as he walked ahead. Bojin sighed, purchased their food, and continued to follow Rafa.
In the distance, three unsavory individuals, two scrawny and one overweight, noticed the duo and began snickering among themselves.
"Well, boys," the overweight thug sneered, licking his lips, "looks like we ain't gon' be hungry tonight."
Rafa, not paying attention, bumped into one of them and ended up on the ground. He quickly apologized, promising to get out of the man's way.
But one of the thugs grabbed Rafa's shoulder, and a sinister smile played across his face.
"Now, Sonny," the overweight thug leered, "I don't think 'sorry' is gonna cut it. How 'bout we make some proper 'amendments'?"
Rafa forced a fake smile and, to Bojin, urged, "Come on, Bojin, it's getting late."
They tried to walk past the thugs, but a different one stopped Rafa. The thugs shared a knowing look, and Bojin signaled them to back off. He was more scared for them .
"Oh?" Rafa challenged, growing increasingly irritated. He grabbed the thug's hand, causing them all to burst into laughter.
"Hey, hey, hey! Someone's pair finally decided to hang from the old tree?" one of the thugs mocked. "Where was all this 'big dick energy' when you were all li—"
"UMPPHH!" Their taunts were abruptly silenced. The only under the thing heard was the sound of someone's spine connecting with a nearby wall.
The scene transitioned to mugshot photos of the beaten thugs, each of them appearing worse for wear. A bright light shone, revealing Bojin, now dressed as an investigator, sitting at a brown table with the thug who had been silenced.
"Now, tell me," Investigator Bojin said, his hand gracefully brushing through his imaginary mustache, "what did you witness that night?"
The thug stammered, his voice trembling as he recounted the encounter. "I-I'm telling you, man! W-w-when he held my hand... I f-f-elt s-ss-s..."
Laughter overtook him, and he continued to laugh nervously until Bojin snapped his fingers. Two officers promptly escorted him away.
The next thug stepped forward, calm and collected. "I always knew that boy was special," he confessed. "Right from his first robbery all the way to his 69th murder. He was meant to be our leader!"
His composure cracked suddenly. "I WILL NEVER SELL OUT MY LEADER!" he shouted, but the officers swiftly removed him from the room.
The final thug, the overweight one, adopted a somber tone. "The boy we met that day did not need size to show us that he had the biggest manhood out of all of us," he declared, pride and tears welling up in his eyes. "He was indeed the—"
All three thugs chimed in unison, "THE WEENIE PEENIE (Latin music plays) EL TORTINI!!!"
Investigator Bojin smiled and attempted to hold back tears but couldn't contain his emotions. He cursed loudly, slamming his hand on the table, while the Latin music faded away, and the room returned to normal.
The beaten thugs were gathered in a pile, and Rafa, now in a considerably better mood, dusted off his hands. He turned to Bojin, who was crying silent tears of joy.
"What are you even crying about?" Rafa asked with a bemused expression. "Let's get out of here and back to my place; I'm starving."
Rafa picked up the packs of food and headed off ahead of Bojin. Bojin hurried to catch up but paused briefly by the pile of criminals. A silent exchange passed between them, and they all nodded in agreement. Investigator Bojin appeared once more, and they all thought in unison:
BOJIN AND THE THUGS: THE WEENIE PEENIE (Latin music plays again) EL TORTINI!!!
Rafa turned around, somewhat puzzled by Bojin's delay. "What are you even doing, idiot?! Let's go!"
Before leaving, Bojin purchased some food and water for the defeated criminals, then hastened to join Rafa.
"Alright, alright! I'm coming. You're supposed to be sick; how'd you work up that appetite anyway?" Bojin quipped, as they continued their journey home through the lively streets of Ganban.