Donbrothers Heroes Of The Peach Guild CH 4

[Blue_Genius]: Oh, speaking of oddities, did anyone else experience a sudden...attachment of eyewear? I was in the middle of an experiment when a pair of blue-tinted sunglasses seemingly materialized on my face. Quite startling, really.

[Mistress_Of_Mayhem]: Sunglasses, ya say? Now that you mention it, a pair of yellow shades just kinda smacked me in the face outta nowhere. Thought I was seein' things, but hey, free sunnies, right?

[Schoolgirl_Stalker]: Ooh, me too! A pair of pink ones just popped onto my face! They're so cute!

[Edgehog]: ...Eyewear. Black. Unsure when.

[Astra]: Shadow-san did receive a pair of black sunglasses.

[Born_From_A_Peach]: AHAHAHA! Those are my gifts to you all.

[Born_From_A_Peach]: Those glasses are a link.

[Born_From_A_Peach]: My companions.

[Blue_Genius]: Companions? With all due respect, Momotaro-san, I believe that term is a tad...premature. We've only just met, virtually, in a chat group of all places.

[Mistress_Of_Mayhem]: Yeah, what's with the "companions" thing, peach boy? We just met! I don't even know if you're a cop, or a clown, or some kinda weirdo with a fruit fetish!

[Schoolgirl_Stalker]: Yeah, Taro-kun! We haven't even exchanged blood types yet! How can we be companions if we haven't shared our deepest, darkest secrets? Or, you know, bodily fluids?

Even Shadow seemed perplexed, if the ellipses were any indication.

[Edgehog]: Companionship requires trust. It is earned...not given.

Astra chimed in, her voice calm and measured as always.

[Astra]: Momotaro-san uses the term "companions" to signify his intention to collaborate with you all in the fight against the encroaching darkness.

[Mistress_Of_Mayhem]: "Encroaching darkness"? What, like a bad spray tan convention?

[Schoolgirl_Stalker]: Encroaching darkness? Is that, like, a super cool villain team-up? Can I join?

[Blue_Genius]: Forgive me, Astra, but what precisely does that entail? Encroaching darkness sounds rather...ominous. Are we speaking metaphorically, or is there a literal cosmic entity poised to extinguish all existence?

[Astra]: A great evil is about to rise. You were gathered from across the multiverse to combat this threat. Taro-san, as leader, is tasked to form this group.

[Blue_Genius]: Oh my stars and garters...

[Blue_Genius]: And what precisely is this... "great evil"?

[Born_From_A_Peach]: I do not know.

[Born_From_A_Peach]: All you need to know is we will be working together.

Harley raised an eyebrow.

[Mistress_Of_Mayhem]: Oh, that's real helpful there, peach fuzz. "Trust me, there's a big bad thing, I don't know what it is, but we gotta team up!" Sounds like somethin' Mistah J would come up with.

Shadow was even more blunt.

[Edgehog]: Lacking any knowledge about the enemy is a serious risk.

[Schoolgirl_Stalker]: Yeah, Taro-kun! At least tell us if it bleeds! Or if it has, like, a really cute face we can take pictures of!

[Blue_Genius]: I concur with my colleagues. A modicum of information would be appreciated. We're being asked to risk life and limb based on the vaguest of pretenses. I'm all for a bit of adventure, but even I have my limits.

Taro tilted his head, his face a mask of genuine confusion. Why did they need a complete profile on the darkness? They'd learn what was needed when the time arrived. Was that not obvious?

[Born_From_A_Peach]: You will know when it is time.

Harley practically choked.

[Mistress_Of_Mayhem]: Oh, I see how it is. You're one of those "trust me, I'm the leader" types, huh? No details, just jump in headfirst and hope for the best? Real inspiring, chief.

Shadow remained curt, but the disdain was palpable.

[Edgehog]: Your methods are reckless.

Toga giggled, but even her enthusiasm had a sharp edge.

[Schoolgirl_Stalker]: Taro-kun, you're being kinda mean! Don't you wanna share? Secrets are what make friends!

Even Hank, usually the most reasonable, seemed taken aback.

[Blue_Genius]: With all due respect, Taro-san, your... laissez-faire approach is rather unsettling. We are not mindless automatons to be deployed at your whim. We are individuals with our own agency and a need to understand the situation before committing to it.

Before a full-blown mutiny could erupt, Astra interjected, her tone soothing.

[Astra]: Perhaps we can table this discussion for the moment? I can provide an overview of the chat group's other systems.

[Astra]: In addition to communication, the chat group offers several features to aid you in your mission. There is the System Shop. You can exchange Regular Points for new equipment, powers, and abilities.

[Astra]: Points can be acquired by logging into the chat group everyday, aiding others in need, and defeating evil.

[Astra]: There is also the Kibi-Point system. By directly aiding Taro, you can earn Kibi-Points. Kibi-Points can be used to grant a wish. Be warned though that wishes come with unintended side effects.

[Astra]: Do you have any questions?

Harley seemed intrigued despite herself.

[Mistress_Of_Mayhem]: Ooh, a wish system? Like a genie in a bottle, but with more mayhem?

Shadow was more focused on the practicalities.

[Edgehog]: What parameters govern the System Shop? Are there restrictions on available items?

[Blue_Genius]: And what safeguards are in place to prevent abuse of this "wish" system? I shudder to think of the potential ramifications.

Toga seemed mostly interested in the possibilities for self-improvement.

[Schoolgirl_Stalker]: Can I wish for a cooler Quirk? Or maybe, like, super-strength so I can hug people really, really hard?

[Astra]: Any wish can be fulfilled, but be warned, you may experience misfortune as a side effect.

Hank opened the System Shop interface on his end, and his blue fur bristled with curiosity. Rows upon rows of items, abilities, and bizarre contraptions filled his vision, things he'd never encountered in his reality. The shop largely consisted of powers and items from series like Kamen Rider, Super Sentai, and Ultraman, alongside anime abilities, which were completely foreign concepts to him. Devil Fruits, Sharingans, Zanpakutos... the very names sounded like something ripped from the pages of pulp science fiction.

If the description is to be believed, I may unlock abilities that I have never dreamed of.

He read the descriptions carefully, and though unfamiliar with their origins, the effects sounded incredibly powerful. But they were all expensive, each costing well over 10,000 points.

[Blue_Genius]: Oh my… the possibilities are truly staggering. Yet, the price points seem… prohibitive.

Harley scratched her head, a thoughtful frown creasing her painted face.

[Mistress_Of_Mayhem]: Okay, so wishes are risky, and the cool stuff costs a bazillion points. How exactly are we supposed to get these points, anyway?

[Astra]: You can earn points by signing into the chat group every day. By doing good deeds and defeating evil.

Harley's expression turned sour.

[Mistress_Of_Mayhem]: "Doing good deeds," huh? Defeating evil? Well, that's a bit of a problem for yours truly. I've spent most of my career on the other side of that equation. "Good deeds" don't exactly pay the bills, ya know?

[Mistress_Of_Mayhem]: Maybe this "hero" thing ain't for me...

Taro was taken aback.

[Born_From_A_Peach]: How can you give up without trying?

[Born_From_A_Peach]: Helping people is a good thing.

Harley scoffed.

[Mistress_Of_Mayhem]: Easy for you to say, Mr. Sunshine. You probably popped outta a peach tree already wearin' a superhero suit. Some of us gotta work for a livin', and "good" doesn't always pay the bills.

[Born_From_A_Peach]: You can work and do good. They are not mutually exclusive.

Harley rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of something in her expression—a hint of curiosity, maybe, or a grudging respect for Taro's unwavering optimism.

[Mistress_Of_Mayhem]: Alright, alright, preachy. I'll think about it, okay? But no promises. And if I decide to stick around, don't expect me to play nice.

Taro was not phased.

[Born_From_A_Peach]: There is good in everyone.

[Born_From_A_Peach]: You only need to find it.

[Born_From_A_Peach]: If you need help finding it.

[Born_From_A_Peach]: Call on me.

He stretched, a yawn escaping his lips. The day was catching up to him, even through the digital divide.

[Born_From_A_Peach]: I must sleep now.

[Born_From_A_Peach]: I have work to do tomorrow.

And with that, Taro signed off, leaving the new recruits to ponder his words and the strange circumstances that had brought them together.

…

A few days pass without much fanfare. Taro continues his delivery rounds, the steady rhythm a soothing backdrop to the chaotic symphony of the city. In the digital realm of the Peach Hero Guild, the waters are still tepid. Conversations bubble up sporadically, but true camaraderie remains elusive. Taro's unwavering honesty and matter-of-fact demeanor, while admirable, prove a challenge for the others to decipher.

Toga, ever the eager social butterfly, chirps and flits around the chat group, peppering everyone with questions and observations. She finds a kindred spirit in Harley, whose chaotic energy and unpredictable humor resonate with her own off-kilter sensibilities. Hank, meanwhile, remains a distant observer, his brilliant mind consumed by research and analysis in his own world. He occasionally offers a measured comment or a well-reasoned query, but his presence is more academic than personal. As for Shadow, he remains a cipher, a brooding presence lurking in the digital shadows. His terse replies and guarded questions betray a deep-seated distrust, a reluctance to open himself to anyone, even across the vast expanse of the multiverse.

One afternoon, as Taro is sorting packages at the delivery depot, one of his coworkers approaches him, a sheepish grin on his face.

"Hey, Taro, you got a minute?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know you're not really into sports and stuff, but... I got an extra ticket to the baseball game this weekend. Thought maybe you'd wanna come?"

Taro pauses, tilting his head slightly. "A baseball game?"

"Yeah, you know, the Swallows are playing the Carp. I know it's not much, but I figured it's the least I can do, you know, for helping me out with those deliveries last week. Plus, it's on Saturday, and I know you aren't busy that day."

Taro considers the offer. His schedule is indeed clear on Saturday. And while he has little interest in the intricacies of baseball, he recognizes the genuine gratitude in his coworker's invitation. It is, perhaps, an opportunity to experience something new, to step outside his comfort zone.

"I am free that day," Taro replies. "I will go with you."

His coworker's face lights up. "Awesome, man! Awesome! I'll meet you at the stadium gate, then?"

"Alright," Taro says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Perhaps, just perhaps, this baseball game will prove to be an interesting experience. Or at the very least, an honest one.

Saturday arrives, bright and clear, a perfect day for an outdoor event. Taro meets his colleague, whose name is Hiroki, at the stadium entrance. Hiroki is practically bouncing with excitement, a stark contrast to Taro's calm demeanor. They navigate through the throngs of fans, a sea of colorful jerseys and waving banners. The air crackles with anticipation, a palpable buzz of energy.

They find their seats, perched high above the field, offering a panoramic view of the diamond. The stands are packed, a kaleidoscope of faces and voices. The game begins, a slow burn of strategy and skill. Hiroki explains the rules and nuances of the game, his enthusiasm infectious. Taro listens attentively, absorbing the information, though his interest remains more academic than passionate.

As the game progresses, the crowd erupts in cheers and groans, a wave of collective emotion. Hiroki joins in, yelling encouragement to the Swallows. Taro, ever the observer, watches the spectacle unfold. He appreciates the dedication of the athletes, the precision of their movements, the unwavering focus in their eyes. He sees the joy it brings, the shared camaraderie, the unifying power of sport.

When Hiroki starts cheering, Taro joins in with a hearty, "Hooray!" The action, though it does not excite him, is an excuse to act and mimic his companion.

His coworker stares at him with a stunned look on his face, but quickly brushes it off and returns to his cheering, with even more intensity.

Taro remains stoic, but a small smile forms on his face. He doesn't fully understand the thrill, but that is okay. His coworker is happy and that makes Taro happy.

The final inning arrives, the score tied, tension hanging thick in the atmosphere like the humid summer air. It all comes down to this, the bottom of the ninth, two outs, bases loaded. The pitcher, a young man named Kenji with fire in his eyes and sweat on his brow, stands on the mound, facing the batter from the opposing team. The crowd is a cacophony of noise, a roaring wave of hope and dread. He winds up, puts everything he has into the throw, and releases the ball.

[THWACK!]

The sound echoes through the stadium, a deafening crack that silences the crowd. The ball soars through the air, a white blur against the azure sky. It clears the fence, a grand slam, a walk-off home run. The Carp win.

The stadium erupts, a tidal wave of cheers and applause from the visiting fans. But for the Swallows fans, silence descends, a heavy blanket of disappointment. Kenji stands on the mound, frozen, his face etched with disbelief. He had failed.

His teammates rush to him, patting him on the back, offering words of consolation. "It's okay, Kenji, you'll get 'em next time!" "You did your best, man!" "We'll win the next game!"

But Kenji doesn't hear them. He is consumed, drowning in the bitter sea of defeat. The weight of the loss crushes him, the hopes of the team, the dreams of the fans, all resting on his shoulders. He wanted to throw the perfect pitch, the unhittable pitch, the pitch that would secure victory. But he failed.

I have to throw the greatest pitch... The greatest pitch...

A dark energy surges through him, twisting his features, contorting his body. His eyes glow with an eerie light, his muscles bulge, his skin turns a sickly green. He roars, a primal scream of anguish and frustration.

"GREATEST PITCH! I NEED TO THROW THE GREATEST PITCH!"

The transformation is complete. Kenji is no more. In his place stands a grotesque parody of a baseball player, a Hitotsuki born from the depths of despair and obsession.

The Sports Hitotsuki stands over eight feet tall, its body a misshapen mass of muscle and sinew. Its skin is a mottled green, crisscrossed with red stitching like a worn-out baseball. One arm is grotesquely oversized, ending in a massive, club-like hand that resembles a catcher's mitt. The other arm is thin and spindly, ending in a clawed hand that grips a shattered baseball bat. Its head is a grotesque mockery of a baseball helmet, cracked and twisted, with glowing red eyes peering out from the darkness within. Steam pours from the jagged vents along its neck, and it constantly growls out, "GREATEST PITCH!"

The Hitotsuki stomps on the pitcher's mound. The ground cracks from the immense force. The crowd, initially stunned into silence, erupts in screams as the monster unleashes its rage. It throws pieces of the mound into the stands, sending people running for their lives.

"GREATEST PITCH! I HAVE TO THROW THE GREATEST PITCH!" it bellows, its voice a distorted echo of Kenji's own.

News of the chaos reaches S.O.N.G. headquarters swiftly. Deep beneath the surface of the city, in their state-of-the-art command center, alarms blare. Red lights flash. The atmosphere is tense, a stark contrast to the earlier calm.

"Unknown energy signature detected near the baseball stadium!" a technician shouts, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "Energy levels are off the charts!"

Aoi Tomosato, ever the composed professional, steps forward. "Sakuya, pull up the surveillance footage. Let's see what we're dealing with."

Sakuya Fujitaka, his brow furrowed in concentration, types rapidly, his fingers dancing across the keys. The main screen flickers to life, displaying a live feed from the stadium. The images are shaky, chaotic, but the horror is undeniable.

A monstrous figure rampages through the stadium, its grotesque form sending people scattering in terror.

Aoi gasps, her eyes wide with shock. Sakuya stares at the screen, his face pale. Even Genjuro Kazanari, the battle-hardened commander, is taken aback.

"What... is that thing?" Genjuro asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Unknown, Commander," Aoi replies, her voice trembling slightly. "We've never encountered anything like this before."

"The energy signature doesn't match anything in our database," Sakuya adds, his fingers still flying across the keyboard.

"Noise?" Genjuro questions, but the word hangs in the air with uncertainty. This is something different, something far more sinister.

"It's not Noise," Aoi says, shaking her head. "Noise don't rampage, they are only drawn to sound. And they definitely don't look like that."

"Do you know what that is, Ryoko?" Genjuro asks, gesturing to the screen.

Ryoko pushes her glasses up her nose. "No, Commander, I do not." She adjusts her glasses, her usual calm demeanor replaced with an almost manic energy. "But I've never seen anything quite like it! The energy signature, the morphology... It's fascinating!"

She can't stop pacing back and forth, muttering to herself, her eyes glued to the screen.

Genjuro watches her, his expression a mixture of concern and exasperation. He knows Ryoko's brilliance is invaluable, but her scientific curiosity can be... intense.

The scene unfolds on the screen, the Hitotsuki wreaking havoc, its destructive power growing with each passing moment. The reality of the situation sinks in. They are facing something new, something unknown, something incredibly dangerous.

"We need to move," Genjuro says, his voice hardening with resolve. "Alert Tsubasa and Kanade. Tell them to mobilize immediately."

Aoi nods, her composure returning. "Understood, Commander."

Taro watches the fleeing people. The Hitotsuki continues its rampage. I must go down there, he thinks. Without hesitation, he moves. He leaps over the railing and lands with a soft thud on the ground below.

Meanwhile, across the dimensions:

In his lab, Hank McCoy is engrossed in genetic sequencing when a Donblaster materializes before him.

[DONBLASTER!]

His eyes widen behind his glasses as the weapon fires, enveloping him in a blue light.

Harley Quinn is mid-therapy session, recounting her latest escapades to Poison Ivy, when the Donblaster appears.

[DONBLASTER!]

Before either of them can react, she finds herself bathed in a yellow aura.

Shadow the Hedgehog is reliving Maria's last moments. He is locked in a stasis tube, reliving his traumatic past.

[DONBLASTER!]

A Donblaster appears before him and he is enveloped in black light.

Himiko Toga, was stalking a man, and when she was about to strike, the Donblaster showed up.

[DONBLASTER!]

She giggles, eyes sparkling, as a pink beam transports her away.

Back at the baseball stadium, Taro arrives on the field. Most people have escaped, leaving the Hitotsuki to its destructive tantrum.

"GREATEST PITCH! I HAVE TO THROW THE GREATEST PITCH!" it roars, tearing up the pitcher's mound with its mitt-like hand.

Suddenly, behind Taro, flashes of blue, yellow, black, and pink light erupt. Four figures materialize, their arrival as abrupt as it is unexpected.

Hank McCoy stumbles, adjusting his glasses, his blue fur ruffled. "Oh, my stars and garters! What in the name of Darwin just happened?"

Harley Quinn, ever the pragmatist, surveys her surroundings with a raised eyebrow. "Well, ain't this a freakin' field trip? Where's the tour guide?"

Shadow the Hedgehog lands silently, his crimson eyes narrowed, scanning for threats. "Where am I?"

Himiko Toga skips forward, her smile wide and unsettling. "Ooh, a new place! And so many cute people!"

Taro turns, his gaze sweeping over the bewildered newcomers. He is not surprised.

"Welcome," he says, his voice calm and steady amidst the chaos. "I am Taro Momoi. You must be my companions."

Hank's keen intellect immediately recognizes the way the man speaks, the clipped formality, the utter lack of inflection. Could it be...?

Harley, who isn't stupid but is impulsive, barely hears the introduction before her eyes light up. "No way! You're Born_From_A_Peach!" she exclaims, a wide grin spreading across her face.

Toga claps her hands together, her eyes sparkling with glee. "Yay! I get to meet Taro-san in person!" She bounces on the balls of her feet, barely able to contain her excitement.

Shadow, still somewhat disoriented from his abrupt transportation, struggles to make sense of his surroundings. He had been forcibly put in stasis for decades. The freedom, the fresh air, was intoxicating. But more immediately, the glowing monster in the distance was concerning. So was the baseball field. He must adapt, however.

"Where... how did we get here?" Hank muses, his mind already racing to formulate hypotheses about interdimensional travel and the nature of the technology involved.

Harley is completely uninterested in Hank's thoughts. Her attention is solely focused on the black hedgehog, who is half her size. "Aww, you're kinda cute!" she says, unable to resist the urge to give him a squeeze. She lunges forward, arms outstretched.

Shadow's eyes narrow further as he recoils. "Release me, immediately!" he growls, his voice a low rumble. He tries to shrug her off.

"Ooh, someone's broody!" Harley teases, but then recognition dawns on her face. "Wait a minute... Edgehog? Is that you?"

"Edgehog?" Toga repeats, tilting her head. "Oh, you mean Shadow! You're Edgehog from the chat group?"

Hank's eyes widen again. He had been too focused on the scientific implications to fully process the social dynamics of the situation. "Indeed, it seems we are all acquainted, at least in a digital sense," he says, adjusting his glasses. "If you are Edgehog, and the man is Born_From_A_Peach... then that means..."

"The blue ape in a lab coat is Blue_Genius?" Toga finishes, giggling.

Hank straightens his back and offers a polite nod. "Henry McCoy, at your service. Though I prefer to be addressed as Hank."

"And you, my dear," Harley says, turning to Taro, "must be the one who invited us. That makes you Born_From_A_Peach, right? The one who is leading this suicide squad."

She then turns to Toga. "And that means the girl in a school uniform is Schoolgirl_Stalker!"

Harley strikes a pose, hands on her hips, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, hello there, Shadow, Hank, Toga, and Taro. I'm Harley Quinn, Mistress of Mayhem!"

Toga giggles and waves her hand. "Hi! I'm Himiko Toga, but you can call me Toga-chan!"

"This is going to be fun!" Harley says.

Hank clears his throat, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. The chaos that seemed to gravitate around Harley was, at the very least, intriguing. However, his attention is swiftly drawn back to the enormous monster in the distance. "While I appreciate the introductions, I can't help but notice the rather...unpleasant creature in the distance. Perhaps we should address that first?"

Everyone’s gaze followed his.

"It is a Hitotsuki," Taro states, his voice unwavering. "It is born of negative emotions, distorted into a monster. We must defeat it." He tells his new companions to follow him, the unspoken command brooking no argument. The gravity of the situation silences any further banter. Taro retrieves his blaster.

[DONBLASTER!]

Back in S.O.N.G. HQ, Tsubasa and Kanade, looking worse for wear, rush into the command center, their faces etched with concern. "What's going on, Commander?" Tsubasa asks, her voice sharp.

"A monster is causing havoc at the baseball stadium," Genjuro replies, his gaze fixed on the main screen. "I need you two to stop it. Now."

Before they can leave, the feed shifts. It now shows the baseball field and a group of five individuals. One of them pulls out a familiar weapon.

"Wait," Kanade says, squinting at the screen. "Isn't that...?"

Before she could finish her sentence, the figure inserts something into the side of the device and spins something on the side.

[Yo~! Don! Don! Don! Donburako! Avataro!]

The figure is engulfed in a torrent of red and gold light. When it subsides, Don Momotaro stands, radiating a boisterous energy that fills the stadium.

[Don Momotaro! Hey yo! Nippon Ichi!]

"AHAHAHAHAHA!" The hero laughs.

Genjuro’s eyes narrow. “Who are those people?” he growls, his voice laced with suspicion.

Aoi and Sakuya, their fingers flying across the keyboards, try to identify the figures, but their efforts are stymied. "We can't get a clear visual, Commander," Aoi reports, her brow furrowed in frustration. "Our system is masking their faces, and we can't seem to override it."

"There is no information about them either" Sakuya said.

"Why?" Genjuro demanded. "Get rid of the mask!"

"I can't. I don't know why." Aoi replied.

Don Momotaro, oblivious to the drama unfolding in the S.O.N.G. command center, strides towards the Sports Hitotsuki, his Zanglassword gleaming in the sunlight. "It's a festival! It's a festival!" he shouts, his voice booming across the stadium. "Let's get this party started!"

The transformation surprises Hank, Harley, Shadow, and Toga.

"Fascinating," Hank murmurs, his eyes widening as he observes the change, his scientific curiosity piqued. "The bio-energetic output is extraordinary. The melding of technology and… well, whatever that is… is a scientific marvel!"

Toga, on the other hand, is less interested in the science and more in the spectacle. "Ooh, pretty!" she squeals, clapping her hands together. "Do we get to do that too, Taro-san? Please say yes, please say yes!"

As if on cue, four Donblasters materialize before them, floating in mid-air. Beside each blaster, a corresponding Avataro Gear shimmers, bathed in its signature color. Hank's gear glows blue, Harley's yellow, Shadow's black, and Toga's pink.

Harley lets out a whoop of delight. "Score! Looks like we're in business, folks!"

Toga giggles, grabbing her Donblaster with glee. "I'm so excited! This is going to be so much fun!"

Shadow remains hesitant, his crimson eyes narrowed, studying the weapon before him with suspicion. He doesn't trust easily, and this sudden gift feels like a trap. But he also recognizes the power radiating from the device, the potential it holds.

Hank, ever the pragmatist, wastes no time in examining his Donblaster, his fingers tracing the smooth curves and intricate details. He's already formulating theories about its operation, its energy source, its connection to the transformed Taro.

"It appears we simply follow his lead," Hank says, his gaze flickering between the Donblaster and Don Momotaro. "Though I confess, I'm eager to understand the underlying principles of this… transformation."

Harley, never one for patience, is already mimicking Don Momotaro, inserting her gear into the side of the blaster and spinning the top handle with gusto. "Alright, let's do this thing!" she yells, pulling the trigger with a manic grin.

Hank and Toga followed suit, inserting their gears into the Donblasters and spinning the top handles. Shadow, after a moment of deliberation, steels himself and does the same, his expression grim.

"Avatar Change!"

"Avatar Change!"

"Avatar Change!"

"Avatar Change!"

[Yo~! Don! Don! Don! Donburako! Avataro!]

The stadium is awash in a kaleidoscope of light as the four are engulfed in their respective auras. The transformations are swift and dramatic, each one a unique expression of power and personality.

Hank's body contorts, his blue fur rippling as he grows taller, his muscles bulging. His lab coat and glasses dissolve, replaced by a sleek, blue spandex suit. Fur trim appears on his sleeves and shoulders, creating a primate-inspired silhouette. On his backside, a red patch appears, reminiscent of a baboon’s callous. The helmet forms around his head, featuring monkey-like crest contours and a sharp, narrow visor.

When the light subsides, Hank McCoy is no more. In his place stands Saru Brother, a blue-furred powerhouse with the agility of an acrobat and the mind of a genius. His voice deepens, taking on a booming resonance.

[Saru Brother! Hey yo! Mukkimuki!]

Harley's transformation is a chaotic explosion of color and energy. Her jester outfit shreds, replaced by a sunshine-yellow suit with black accents. Small, oni-style horns sprout from each side of her helmet, framing her face with a devilish grin. Spiked armor pieces adorn her shoulders, giving her an aggressive silhouette. She hefts a kanabō, her signature weapon, nearly as tall as she is. The kanabo has been decorated to look like a giant baseball bat.

When the light fades, Harley Quinn is gone. In her place stands Oni Sister, a mischievous demon ready to wreak havoc on the world.

[Oni Sister! Hey yo! Oni Ni Kanabo!]

Shadow's transformation is the most subdued, a subtle shift in form and posture. His black fur seems to deepen, becoming almost velvety in texture. His quills sharpen, jutting out at more aggressive angles. Red and white accents appear on his gloves and hover shoes, and a small tail piece protrudes from the back of his suit. A dog-themed helmet with pointy ears and a snout-like visor covers his face.

When the light dissipates, Shadow the Hedgehog is gone. In his place stands Inu Brother, a sleek, stealthy warrior ready to strike from the shadows.

[Inu Brother! Hey yo! Wanderful!]

Toga's transformation is the most whimsical, a delicate dance of light and color. Her school uniform dissolves, replaced by a soft magenta suit with white highlights. A tall, curved crest extends back from her helmet, resembling a bird's plume in flight. Elegant feather designs adorn the helmet sides, and a feathery skirt sways around her hips.

When the light subsides, Himiko Toga is gone. In her place stands Kiji Sister, an avian warrior with the grace of a dancer and the heart of a predator.

[Kiji Sister! Hey yo! Tricky!]

"What in the world...?" Aoi breathed, eyes glued to the monitor. She continued typing frantically, trying to get a better read.

Ryoko pushed past her. "Magnificent, isn't it? A whole team of warriors! It will be so interesting to study them."

Genjuro watched with a stony expression. "Those transformations... relics can't do that. What are they?" His mind raced, trying to categorize this unprecedented phenomenon.

Tsubasa stepped forward. "Commander," she stated, her voice cutting through the chaos, "the one in red... I recognize him."

Kanade nodded in agreement. "He saved us at the concert. Don Momotaro, he called himself." A small smile played on her lips. "I'm glad to see he's alright. But..." her gaze hardened. "What is he planning? And who are his teammates?"