The sky was clear and sharp. A steady spring breeze whispered through the trees and across the training field, carrying the faint creak of the nearby Academy’s ancient flagpole.
Arryn walked the path leading to it, hands tucked confidently behind his head, a lazy smirk plastered on his face. Every step he took kicked up little puffs of dust, but his strides were calm, cocky, and the walk of someone who already believed he'd won.
He had waited a really long time for this.
It had been months since that awful winter when Manzo, his best friend, had been found dangling helplessly by his underwear from that very flagpole, knocked out cold and spinning slowly in the icy wind. The image of it had been burned into everyone's memory, thanks to the photo Joseph had smugly left pinned to the pole for all to see. It was a humiliating period put at the end of a massive strike down from his Piko Piko Hammer.
Arryn’s eyes narrowed slightly as the memory flashed in his mind: Manzo’s arms limp, his face dazed and silly, the cotton of his tighty-whities stretched taut and flag-like in the freezing breeze. The laughter. The humiliation. The anger.
"Today," Arryn thought with a growing grin, "that’s going to be paid back in full." As he crested the slight hill, he spotted him — Joseph — lounging under the flagpole like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Joseph barely spared him a glance. One hand casually gripped a bright orange juice box, the straw bent at a lazy angle. His massive Piko Piko hammer rested upright against his shoulder, its heavy head planted in the dirt.
Arryn stopped a few yards away, planting his feet firmly, his shadow stretching long behind him. His grin widened, full of fire and swagger.
"I'm here to settle this, Joseph," Arryn called out, voice bold and brimming with energy. "It’s time you paid for what you did to Manzo!"
Joseph tilted his head slightly, finally deigning to look at him. His expression didn’t change much. It was just a faint lift of one eyebrow, as if someone had mildly inconvenienced him.
"...Took you long enough," Joseph said, voice slow and unimpressed, punctuating the comment with a casual slurp from his juice box.
Arryn pointed straight at him, heat rising in his cheeks. "I'm going to beat you down right here. I'm not leaving until you’re the one getting hauled up the flagpole!"
Joseph shrugged. He was sure this was not going to go in Arryn’s favor.
"You sure you're ready for that?" he asked lazily, setting the juice box down with a soft crinkle.
A low hum filled the air. Arryn stiffened.
Behind Joseph, his shadow on the ground rippled unnaturally, as if something inside it were starting to move.
Arryn’s muscles tensed. His grin faltered for just a second as he noticed the strange, liquid way Joseph’s shadow shifted along the dirt.
It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t normal.
Still, Arryn quickly forced his smirk back into place. He wasn't going to let some cheap parlor trick get into his head. Not today. Plus, if it was real, so what? He had powers too.
"You think some weird magic trick’s gonna scare me?" Arryn called, folding his arms across his chest. "Please. I'm not Manzo. I’m his friend, sure, but I’m also a leader."
Joseph said nothing. He just leaned lazily against his hammer and stretched his neck to one side with a small pop. The shadow behind him pulsed again, more violently this time until it suddenly split.
Two figures rose fluidly from the darkness, pulling themselves upright like actors emerging from behind a curtain.
Arryn’s cocky demeanor wavered again.They looked... exactly like Joseph but not entirely.
One clone had an irrepressible, mischievous grin, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet like he couldn't wait to cause trouble. His eyes glittered with wild, playful energy, and even his stance was cocky and relaxed. This was Joyous Playfulness.
The other clone was the complete opposite; stiff, silent, and glaring. His mouth was set in a grim, straight line. His entire posture radiated quiet threat, his movements precise and deliberate. This was Seriousness.
Arryn blinked, his brain stumbling over itself trying to process what he was seeing.
Joseph plucked his juice box back off the ground and gave a slow, deliberate sip. Then he finally spoke, almost bored but smirking regardless: "Don't say I didn't give you a warning."
Arryn gritted his teeth, forcing down the brief flicker of unease. "So what? Two clones? Big deal."
He dropped into a loose fighting stance, shaking out his arms, a cocky grin returning to his face. He had to win. Too much pride was riding on this. Too many years of waiting.
"I guess I’ll just have to knock down three of you instead of one," Arryn said, flashing a grin full of reckless confidence. He beat Killua easily. All the time. All he had to do was get his hands on the real one. There was a faint difference between the afterglow of the real one and these nen fakes. Should be simple.
He pointed directly at Joseph and his two doppelgangers, his voice loud and ringing across the empty field.
"Bring it on, juice box bimbo!"
Joseph didn’t reply.
He just set the juice box down again, ever so slowly, and flexed his fingers.
The clones moved in perfect sync, shifting their feet into ready stances, circling around Arryn like wolves around a cornered rabbit.
Arryn let out a sharp breath and cracked his knuckles. He could feel the adrenaline surge through his body. The familiar electric buzz right before a fight was awesome. This guy had no idea who he was messing with. Take down one of his boys will you? Not while the Bully Beater was on the scene! It didn’t matter if there were three of them. He was faster. Smarter. More ready.
He lunged forward with a roar, leading with a fast, sharp kick aimed at the cocky, bouncing clone radiating playful energy. His foot swung wide, almost too easy, and the Playfulness clone leaned back just enough to let the kick whoosh harmlessly past his nose.
Arryn stumbled a step forward, surprised by the sudden lack of impact.
Before he could recover, the Playfulness clone gave him a cheeky grin and booped him on the forehead with one finger.
It was light. Teasing. Almost dismissive.
Arryn scowled, swinging a wild backhand but his strike was met by the cold, fast hand of the Seriousness clone catching his wrist mid-swing.
The grip was like iron.
Arryn tried to jerk free, but it was like yanking against a steel beam. Before he could react again, a swift, punishing knee slammed into his gut.
WHUMP.
The air exploded out of Arryn’s lungs.
He staggered backward, doubling over, clutching his stomach as he gasped.
From the corner of his eye, he barely registered Playfulness darting behind him and suddenly yanking hard upward on the back of his waistband!
THWIPPP!
A brutal wedgie tore Arryn upright with a pained, cartoonish yelp. His legs kicked weakly as the elastic of his Spiderman underoos dug mercilessly into his hips and back.
"W-what the heck–?!" he sputtered, red-faced, flailing. Playfulness began giggling wildly.
Before he could even process it, Seriousness stepped in again, fast and clinical — delivering a sharp, precise chop to the back of Arryn’s neck.
THWOK.
His body stiffened. For one split second, Arryn's eyes crossed, his jaw slackened, and a pathetic little gasp slipped out of his mouh.
Then he crumpled.
His limbs went loose and floppy, and his tongue lolled from the side of his mouth. Little cartoonish stars and chirping birdies spun lazily around his head as he dropped to his knees, then collapsed fully onto his face with a muffled grunt.
The Playfulness clone laughed out loud, giving his own hip a little victorious wiggle. The Seriousness clone simply nodded once in grim satisfaction.
Above them both, Joseph finally straightened up from his relaxed slouch and rested the massive Piko Piko hammer casually against his shoulder, watching without a hint of surprise.
In the dust at their feet, Arryn mumbled something incoherent into the dirt, drool starting to drip from the corner of his mouth. His shorts had half-fallen down in the struggle, bunched pitifully around his ankles, his underoos stretched high and tight.
He was completely, humiliatingly helpless.
Joseph gave a small shake of his head and muttered to himself, "Amateur."
Arryn lay face-down in the dust, barely twitching, mumbling gibberish. His underoos were yanked high, his shorts tangled uselessly around his ankles. Little spinning stars and chirping cartoon birds still circled lazily over his head.
Joseph approached slowly, resting the Piko Piko hammer against one shoulder, sipping the last of his juice box. He crumpled it in one hand and casually tossed it over his shoulder into the trash.
Standing over Arryn’s limp body, Joseph exhaled a long-suffering sigh. "So much bark... so little bite," he said with a smirk.
Then, just because he could, Joseph swung the Piko Piko hammer down with a harsh, bonking whack right onto the top of Arryn’s head.
BONK.
Arryn let out a dumb little hiccup noise, his tongue flopping out further as his eyes rolled unevenly.
Joseph adjusted his grip and gave another swing, a silly sideways whap that knocked Arryn’s head back and forth.
BOP. BOP. BOP.
Each hit made Arryn drool more, his arms weakly flopping as he let out ridiculous, cuckoo nonsense.
"Glubba–bluh–I’m a spaceman... bring the jellyfish parade... whup–bop–bee boo..."
Joseph chuckled under his breath. "Yeah. Definitely a spaceman."
Satisfied with the final bonk, Joseph tossed the hammer lightly into the air and caught it again on his shoulder. He gave a nod to his two clones. "All right, boys. Hoist him."
With perfect, almost ceremonial teamwork, Playfulness and Seriousness each grabbed a fistful ofArryn’s stretched-out waistband. Arryn gave a faint whimper, kicking weakly in the air.
Together, they hauled him up, lifting his limp body higher and higher as his underwear stretched comically wide, the fabric straining and creaking with the effort.
At the base of the flagpole, the old rusty crank squealed in protest as the clones began latching the waistband securely to the cable hook.
Up, up, up Arryn went, his arms dangling down, his head drooping, and his legs wobbling like jelly. His underoos flapped a little in the breeze, making him look like some pitiful flag of defeat.
Joseph stood back and admired the scene, resting his hammer in the dirt and crossing his arms smugly. He shielded his eyes from the sun with one hand and squinted up at his new trophy.
"Perfect," he said simply. The flag creaked gently as Arryn swayed in the wind, a soft, pathetic moan leaking out of his mouth.
Joseph cracked his knuckles, letting the moment linger, savoring the glorious, ridiculous spectacle hanging before him. Seriousness looked serious. Playfulness was doubled over laughing until he cried. It was too funny.
Joseph leaned on the base of his hammer arms folded across his chest. He gazed up at the swaying, defeated Arryn with a wide, cocky grin. It was the kind of grin that said "I didn't even break a sweat."
Arryn twitched weakly, a thin line of drool dangling from his mouth. His legs kicked faintly now and then, his underoos stretched so tight they looked ready to whistle in the wind. Every so often, a dazed little nonsense word slipped out of his mouth.
"Bluh... jellybeans... no, your majesty, the moon is made of waffles..."
Joseph tilted his head slightly, as if considering the sad, droopy sight thoughtfully and then gave a theatrical, mocking sigh. He raised one hand, holding up a single finger.
"Let’s be real for a second," Joseph said loudly, just in case the barely-conscious Arryn could somehow still hear. He started counting off smugly on his fingers:
"One, for making me wait three whole winters to get your revenge. Kinda lame, bro." He lifted a second finger.
"Two, for picking on Killua. Seriously? Out of everybody? Killua? Come on.ANYONE could take him. Not even worth bragging about." He gave an exaggerated shake of his head, as if disappointed in a naughty child.
A third finger went up."And three–" Joseph's grin widened even more, his teeth gleaming in the sun. "--for thinking you could win against me."
He clicked his tongue mockingly, giving a little shrug. "I mean, points for guts. Negative points for brains."
Arryn’s only response was a weak gurgling noise as he spun slowly around the pole, the flag cable creaking with every pitiful turn.
Joseph crouched slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, and pointed up at him with a lazy jab of one finger.
"And because of all that..." Joseph announced, "I’m officially declaring you my rival." He winked. "Whether you like it or not, buddy~!"
Standing up, Joseph swung his Piko Piko hammer up onto his shoulder with a light clunk and turned his back casually, walking away from the flagpole without a second glance. His sneakers kicked up little puffs of dust as he whistled a happy, smug little tune under his breath. His clones followed behind him, bopping a bit to the beat of his rhythm.
Behind him, the flag creaked again. Arryn dangled helplessly, spinning slowly, his dazed face catching the sunlight with every humiliating sway.
From somewhere deep in his foggy, cuckooed brain, Arryn managed a faint, slurred protest. It came out like garbled baby babble though. He was confused as to why Joseph didn’t respond to the threat he just made as a result…
The breeze picked up again, fluttering Arryn’s shirt and stretched-out underoos like a banner of defeat.
And with that, the field fell back into a peaceful, humiliating silence.
---
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