《GRUDGE BURST - Urban Fantasy Multi Protag Downward Spiral》
Introduction Chapter: Solomon Belko
Deserted suburbs of Gary, Indiana
2 years ago
11:42 AM
A disheveled man in his late 20s patiently waited outside a humble McDonald''s, reading some superhero comic. His clothes had that uncharismatic aura of homelessness, along with a short mohawk, black tinted sunglasses that were cracked in the lenses- yet still intact, as well as ripped grimy denim jeans, callused hands, chapped lips, skin that rarely saw god''s radiance, as well as combat boots that were torn from many years of use.
The last customer walked out of the restaurant.
*"And it looks like we shall continue this... in the next issue"* spoke the stranger to himself.
The imp slithered his way, making his presence known in a casual, "normal", everyday manner.
He came up to the counter with his arms raised as if greeting a relative
"Why hello there!" he greeted towards the zombie at the cashier.
His voice was one of shrill and vigor. More akin to a goblin or an odd tangle of vocal chords rather than a mouse''s type of voice.
"How are you!" he continued
"Good. how can I help you sir."
"How can you help me? Well I''ll be! I actually do need help today haha!"
The cashier rolled their eyes.
"Say, you got that new double triple chungus deluxe right?"
"..."
"Nah! nah don''t worry I''m kidding- come on, lighten up hahahah!"
The cashier stood silent
"So I saw that there''s this new burger on the menu eh? it looks real good and has a cute little flag on top of it, ya know?"
"Yes, the limited time only guacamole bacon burger." repeated the cashier, obeying their capitalist mission to spread juicy new meals to the customers.
"Yeah, that one!" replied the stranger
"Say by any chance did you uh... happen to eat it yet?"
"No sir. It just came today sir."
"Ahah well no worries, I''ll just give it a whirl."
After paying $18.93 for a preheated, all ready burger that''s been sitting for a good half day, he sat down.
He took a bite.
After not eating for the past four days, the stranger took a bite.
His happy, humble, hungry bite morphed into a bitter sweet cringe.
This guacamole. Its a day old.
The bun has been smushed to paste.
The meat is half baked.
The lettuce is from Taco Bell.
These fries are cold.
This cheese is half melted.
The bacon is *also* cold.
They put half the god damn tomato in here.
No.
Nononononono.
My pain will not be paid by mediocrity.
He stood up and sauntered over to the counter with a disappointed smile
"Hi, its me again now- I know you''re only doing your job right, and I hate to be a bitch right, but that sandwich was a bit um... crappy right. Can I simply get a new one? I only took a single bite see?"
The cashier rolled their eyes, put their phone down and called over the manager.
"Can I help you sir?"
"Hey I was a little dissatisfied with my sandwich. Do you think I could get a new one?"
"I''m sorry sir but due to supply issues, we cannot give you a free meal. However, we can give you a 10% off discount for your next purchase."
The stranger''s eye twitched.
"..."
"Sir?"
A bloody scene took place in his mind. His eye spazzed out as the carnage unfolded before his skewed vision. A calling from the powers that be that supported his mentality. Permission to punish these greedy and lazy swines. Judgement *WILL* strike upon thee. To grant you this escape sooner rather than later IS an act of mercy and salvation, you shall NOT deny your fate by your phony god, you WILL be thankful for this bladed spoon that shall feed your soul its eternal damnation, you WILL-
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
"..."
"Sir."
"Hm?"
"Did you understand what I said?"
"Ah why y-yes. I''ll just... take another Guac bacon burger."
"Ah alright sir, it''ll be $18.93."
"WOAH-woah-woah wait- I thought you said it was 10% percent off the next purchase? What gives?"
"Sorry sir, any new items are excluded since its a limited time only item. Limited time meals are already discounted. Excuse the inconvenience."
The stranger dozed off into a distant stare for a solid 12 seconds; drool pooled out of his mouth.
"Sir?"
"Oh no. That''s fine. I understand" he finally replied with a soft smile.
A freshly cooked burger later, he sat down again.
He took a bite.
Guacamole. Its a day old.
Bun. Smushed.
Meat. Cooked rare
The lettuce is from Taco Bell.
The fries were co- its the same its all the fucking SAME.
A bulging vein made itself clear on the stranger''s forehead.
He walked on over to the cashier.
"HI!"
He whipped out his colt 1911 out of his green jacket and aimed its barrel square at the cashier''s head
"HOW IS YOUR DAY? I WANT A GUACAMOLE BACON BURGER. AND I WANT IT PERFECT, JUST LIKE THE POSTER OUT THERE. I WANT IT SPOTLESS, I WANT IT SO SPOTLESS IT BRUSHES MY TEETH AS I EAT IT, I WANT IT SO SPOTLESS IT CLEANS MY ASS AS I SHIT IT OUT 2 HOURS FROM NOW, I WANT THAT FUCKING BUN TO SHINE BRIGHTER THAN THE BRIGHT LIGHT THAT YOU SAW WHEN YOU CAME OUT OF YOUR MOTHER- YEAH REMEMBER THAT? THAT BRIGHT LIGHT? GOOD! BECAUSE YOU''RE THIS FUCKING CLOSE TO SEEING IT AGAIN, RIGHT?"
The cashier''s jaw quivered and quaked as they wet their pants. They attempted to duck and run and scream and punch and slap and dodge and pray,
yet to no avail.
Finally, they made their final attempt at moving their body.
Their body told them to open the cash register, and start giving the money to the stranger.
"What are you doing"
"W-What?" asked the teary eyed cashier
"What the fuck are you doing?" asked the the confused stranger
"G-Giving you the money???"
The stranger pinched the bridge of his nose in disappointment.
The entire restaurant stood still, as the powers that be contemplated in ruining this shithole right here right now.
"Thats not what I want.
For the last time.
I want a Guacamole Bacon Burger. As it is on the poster outside. I want it perfect and with everything. Yes-that means it needs to have the flag on it. The flag was the entire reason I wanted this retarded burger in the first place. It looks cute and it brightens my mood. Please and thank you. Also, no pickles."
The stranger handed over a $20 dollar bill.
"Keep the change" he grumbled as he intently stared at the kitchen staff and manager making the most pristine suburban gourmet cuisine possible.
"And make this one to go."
Finally, the stranger left the McDonald''s. A smile on his face and no blood on his hands. After observing the staff the entire time and looking exactly like the poster, this should suffice.
There he stood, opening up his bag, unwrapping the foil, and took a bite.
A soft smile as the warmth of the meat graced his tongue. The guacamole complimenting the salty bacon ever so softly, a mating ritual that blessed his tongue.
Hm
"How about that!" he chuckled to himself
"And even THEN..."
"It STILL tastes like shit!"
He pointed up to the sky and wagged his finger
"You... You''re a funny one, you!"
"That being said, I understand your message loud and clear" he continued in a softer tone, changing his pointing gesture into an open hand.
An eye carved into his palm glowed red with bloody tears.
"This mission is for me, and me alone. Your word is my command, and your judgement is my voice."
"?????''? ?????"
Inside the restaurant, after the manager had finished calling the police, they proceeded to rip the telephone out of its socket and start slamming it on one of the cook''s faces, bashing it into a bloody pulp. The other cooks sprayed frying oil all over their other adversaries. The cashier attempted to lunge themselves towards one of the cooks, only to have their momentum diverted head first into the drive through window, crunching their neck upon the pavement. Stabbings, bitings, clawings, and arson ensued as all the employees fought against eachother with abhorrent bloodlust.
Solomon Belko walked away as he heard the tune of his seed play out behind him.
"Nice"
.
.
.
14 minutes later, the police arrived. It seemed it took a while for anyone to notice the carnage of what was happening inside the restaurant.
Half of the building was already in flames.
Couple of days later, CCTV footage caught footage of the event.
Only to reveal that there was no physical person to be seen.
Though the thing that stumped them the most, was that the objects that the employees seemed to hand out floated and disappeared.
How odd indeed.
Introduction Chapter: Jules and Vincent
For every scientific explanation of a phenomena, there is a deep seeded other-worldly cause.
Whether the forces of the world are malicious, benevolent, or otherwise, rarely matters.
They are simply there.
Most live unaware, leaving such occurrences as freak accidents, or laws of nature.
Yet those who know the truth are left to their own devices; factions manipulating the means to further their own agendas, freaks executing judgement through their own ideology, and spirits who are left as a morbid reflection of the world they knew.
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4:48 AM
2 years ago
Thursday
Dawn was about to break out. The blue haze skewed with the withering dark purple blanket; the morning glow barely made itself known thanks to the clouds covering its radiant beauty. The stars were fleeting. The streetlights were minutes away from turning off. The Neon lights of the quiet city whirred peacefully. Not a single soul drove on the road.
In a not-so crowded Motel parking lot, two men sat in an inconspicuous rust-spotted 1998 Black Sedan. They have been sitting there for the past 23 hours.
Both of them were around their mid to late 20s.
On the driver''s seat was a blonde White man wearing square prescription glasses, slacks underneath his pitch black business suit, a white business casual dress shirt with floral patterns on it, a red tie, business pants, and square toed dress shoes that probably costed a humble $4,000. His hair was short and slicked back to the side, jutting a bit outwards in a soft, spiky motion. He rested on his seat, staring at the car''s ceiling, mouth agape with drool pooling out.
Sitting on the passenger seat was a Black man, wearing a more appropriate and typical business suit. Nothing jutted out of the ordinary; Black blazer, black tie, white dress shirt, black dress pants, and a wrist watch that was on the pricey end- but not bordering on pretentious mind you. The only thing out of the ordinary with his apparel were the black doc martens that could be substituted for combat boots, and the single earring on his right earlobe. His hair was pitch black and stylized into a mid fade. With his seat leaned back all the way, he laid prone, binoculars glued to his eyes while a soft blue blanket acted as a ghillie suit for him. He stared through the rear windshield, concentrating on a single second-floor room.
"Oh my GOD dude..." spoke the White man
"I am this close to losing my shit, I kid you not" he continued, making a pinching motion with his fingers
Sucking up his drool, he turned over to his friend.
"No really- I can''t find it! It sprouted arms and legs, crawled out of my ass and walked right off. Can you find it? Because I sure as hell can''t."
The Black Male ignored his friend''s pestering and didn''t respond for a good 20 seconds.
"Vincent... have you always been like this?"
"Like what"
"Obnoxious"
"mmmmm...???"
Vincent put his hand on his chin for a good moment before responding back
"Yeah. Basically as far as I could remember."
"...I believe it" muttered Jules.
Vincent squirmed his way around and faced the back windshield, much like his friend.
"Has this guy seriously not moved at all? No meal, no visitor, no nothing?"
"Nope."
"My GAWD, this guy has the patience of a MONK I tell ya"
"Yeah."
"I''m pretty sure this guy is onto us, no? Seeing as how he''s been playing it safe and locking himself for a god damn day STRAIGHT"
"Mmm-hmmm"
The White agent glared at Jules for moment before announcing his feelings
"Man, you''re so fucking boring dude ??"
"I''d rather be boring than annoying"
"Do you really, though?"
"..."
Jules, taking his eyes off of the binoculars for the first time in probably an hour, looked up and pondered.
"Actually... you might be on to something."
"Well of course I am, I''m a genius after all. But seriously think about it, with an annoying person there''s opportunity to have some semblance of fun, as long as you play along"
Jules rebutted
"I disagree. If a person has an opportunity of being fun, then they''re not completely annoying; if they''re annoying, they''re annoying. Furthermore, if it were a boring person, at least you two could mind your own businesses, and leave it at that."
"But that''s so boooooring"
"Yeah, but its better than being annoyed endlessly."
(Damn it, now we''re back to square one) thought Jules to himself
The both of them went back to staring. Jules rekindled his blanket to a comfortable degree whilst Vincent fished around the small cooler in the back seat, looking for any left over snacks or drinks.
"Dammit dude"
"What happened"
"I think we''re out of barbeque chips..."
"Eh. They were stale anyway."
"Really? I couldn''t taste the difference..." mumbled Vince
.
.
.
Across the parking lot was the quiet room that''s been stalked for the past (literal) day.
A frantic, disheveled man in his 30s restlessly paced around his room. Clearly not having slept for 22 hours, he stared at the massive mural of classified information.
This is it. This is probably the last thing he''s going to see. A carpet of papers and folders. Moldy, leaked stains on the ceiling. Bugs whirred around as his only companions. This pitch black dirty room of a 2.4 star Motel will be the effective death of him. Only illuminated by the faint glow of his laptop, he stared at the wall. A mile''s worth of red string endlessly connected and looped points together; pictures of top secret projects, government heads, international syndicate bosses, people who didn''t exist on documented papers, people who weren''t alive anymore- much less for a thousand years or so, ancient sigils, unreadable scribbles, otherworldly runes, marked targets, entire islands that have been wiped out of the map. Locations and people that existed once, but with no solid evidence, at best it was a myth, and at worst, you''re insane; detain and gag this man, lobotomize and castrate him. Anyone who visits or questions him is to be put on a watchlist out of involvement. Involvement of what? Nobody would know; Exactly. Nobody would know because the said "man" who you think investigated these things doesn''t exist, and you''re crazy for believing it. Now fuck off and watch yourself, you conspiratorial loon.
The man sighed at the sight. With the situation involved, at best, he''ll get out of this alive and live with a fake identity in a Native American reservation. At worst, they''ll just detain the information he''s leaked and torture him until they get what they want. But despite it all, he knew the risks, and still decided to enact justice with his own two hands. He spent his entire life afraid of the government after what they did to his father. As retribution, he obsessed over getting accepted into the CIA, and right after gaining enough information for the two years he''s been in there, his first batch of classified information was more than enough to sate 20 years of contempt. One man''s life, to give the possibility of feeding the world the truth. Because in the end, justice will prevail; it always does.
No matter the years of planning, the sleepless nights, or the days without eating, even if it meant eating the leftover crumbs of his lunch, or taking a juicy crunch from a cockroach that he could catch, it wouldn''t matter. Even if the toilet clogged or the plumbing wouldn''t work by some sheer coincidence, or even if the landowner came knocking on the door to kick him out of this room because he didn''t pay the amount of hours that he rented, it wouldn''t matter. Under no circumstances would he leave this room with that car outside.
He walked over to the drawer and opened it. Staring back at him was the Heckler & Koch USP pistol that was issued to him when he joined the force. There he realized: his fate lied at the end of its barrel.
.
.
.
"So, what are you going to do after this?" asked Vincent
"Personally, I''m going to go eat at Denny''s. An entire day sitting in a car is making me lose it, and I think a fine breakfast with mediocre eggs, some skimpy bacon and the best simple crepes on the western hemisphere is a good way to reward myself, no?"
Jules rolled his veiny, tired eyes towards his comrade
"Honestly... as appetizing as breakfast sounds right now, I just really, really, really want to go to bed right now. At best I''ll quickly get a $3 breakfast from RatDonald''s and at worst I''ll just head straight home and get a solid 13 hours worth of sleep" responded Jules
"Aw but come on man, all this hard work for a mediocre reward? Like no seriously, when''s the last time you ate at a fancy diner like Denny''s"
"PAH! You''re funny"
"-Thanks, I know" briefly interrupted Vinny
"But to answer your question, Denny''s sounds like more of a mediocre reward than sleeping. Someone once told me, you might see a ''6'', but I see a ''9''; doesn''t necessarily mean that either of us are wrong in the end..."
"...
Nah
That''s bullshit" commented Vince
Jules rolled his eyes
"Actually- wait a sec" continued Jules
"You come from a lineage of CIA operatives right?"
"Woah shit- getting a little too personal don''t ya think? What brought this up?" asked Vince
"I''m just really trying to piece together why you''re like this, especially while carrying your family name"
"Oh eh- that''s less personal but when you put me on the spot like that, yeah sure I''ll bite. Yeah, all of the men in my family have been agents (not operatives) of the CIA, all the way back since 1894."
"Wait, I thought the CIA was made right after Pearl Harbor"
"What? Oh my god no. Didn''t you take the history class?"
"No I chose different electives because quite frankly, I couldn''t care less about what has already happened"
"That''s... yeah that''s fair. Anyway, The Company has been a thing since the founding fathers but instead of what we are now, it was more like bodyguards being privy to information and gossiping about ''did you know what John Adams told ME, girl you would not believe!'' (dramatized). Then after the japs bombed Pearl Harbor, Mr. Truman made it official and bada bing bada boom, we''re top dog now. Each generation since then, my family''s been pretty tight with The Company...aside from one or two shit heads. And as for carrying the weight of my family... uhm... I couldn''t give less of a shit...? Bro, I could work at McShittles for all I could care."
"Then why did you choose to work here?"
"Dude.
Money...?
Like- how is that even a question? That, on top of all the perks I get for my family''s relations. Shit man, why do you work for The Company? Like be so for real with me right now, nobody works here for the sake of our country like."
"Yeah...
Yeah you''re right, it''s just the money." reluctantly agreed Jules.
"Now it''s my turn to be an obnoxious, nosy little prick"
"Dude-"
"Where the hell did you come from, and what''s your family like? I know I''ve asked this question before but something always interrupts us"
"Ah...hm, yeah.
I came from the inner city of Chicago. My father was gone, my mother wasn''t the best. At age 15 I ran away and never looked back. I used what little skill I had to climb my way up and 12 years later, I wound up here."
"Where''s your mother now?"
"Dead."
"How do you know."
Jules blurted a delayed response with
"-I don''t actually know, I just hope she is."
Vincent sneered and pointed at Jules
"Nice catch."
Jules glared at Vincent.
BEEP BEEP BEEP
BEEP BEEP BEEP
BEEP BEEP BEEP
5:00 AM
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A4eB0B-FGOg
The timer rang out.
The loud ringing of the phone whispered the invisible tune that they''ve been waiting to hear for the past 24 hours. In an immediate response, both of them stopped what they were doing and automatically put on their tight leather gloves. Puppeted by years of repetition, hypnotized by the job at hand, they both moved mechanically in astute synchronization. Tightly screwing on the suppressors on their Heckler and Koch USPs, they both got out of the car and slammed the doors at the same time. They quickly scanned the area to see whether or not there were witnesses around. 0? Good. Less bodies to take care of. Gallantly marching to the chants of their job, Vince went in front of Jules. Both of them casually walked up the stairs, pistol at their hip, barely hidden from plain sight.
"You take the back just in case he uses a vent, I''ll take door" announced Vincent in a serious manner
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"Heard." responded Jules in a monotone voice.
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Their march could be heard from the floorboards alone. The paranoid ex-CIA agent could sense Death coming for him by the second; a cold and unwavering steady stride that cared not. The only thing that existed was the execution of the mission. Though the door was closed, the ex-agent felt the air of the entire motel change. A dense, malleable smog that reeked of malice and determination.
Tight stomach. Lump in the throat. Slow and silent breaths. Heart beating so hard it rubbed against the ribcage. Pupils smaller than an ant. Hand tremors. Stiff muscles. The mind screaming, torn on whether or not to fight back or run away. But where to? *How?* **Why?**
Not like this
**NOT LIKE THIS**
NO WAY
*NO WAY NO WAY NO WAY*
AFTER ALL,
*THEY ARE ONLY HUMAN*
The paranoiac slowly and silently walked over to his drawer and retrieved his gun. Hiding behind his bed, his wavering arm aimed directly at the window. Anybody''s silhouette who DARE pass through would get shot!
But...
*But...*
What if its an innocent?
What if it''s a bystander? He''d be truly fucked then. Hell, what if it''s a child!
Christ
"They really thought of everything..."
He leaned back against the wall, and stared at the ground. He tried not to cry, and squished his palm against his left eye so as to stuff himself from tearing up.
"Pah...
Pahahahhahhh.....
*That''s funny..."* he whispered to himself
"You''re not making me look insane here... you''re just making me look stupid...
All this... for ego? Shit. I wish... I just wanted revenge...what did my dad do... what did *I* do?
Tch...
...
*To hell with this*"
Sucking up his own anger, the ex-agent gritted his teeth and focused on the passerbys.
Thirty seconds passed.
Forty two seconds passed.
A minute passed.
By the second minute, he saw someone''s silhouette on the window. He couldn''t make out the exact features due to the curtains, but anyone waiting at the door would surely be the enemy.
CHK
CHK-KK
CHIK-CHK-CHKJJKJGGGJK
The door handle jiggled and jiggled and jiggled forcefully.
Right as the ex-agent was about to pull the trigger, a nasally voice, probably one from a teenager''s faintly rang out from the other side of the door
"Oh... dude, wrong door..."
A head splitting migraine within the ex-agent''s mind occurred right after those words were said.
"Fucking kids..." hissed the ex-agent under his breathe
He wanted to take a look at the parking lot, but knew that if he took a peak from the window, they''d have a sniper ready for him.
The next best thing would be through the door''s peephole.
He tip-toed across his room and slowly, hovered his eye near the peephole.
"..."
"What the"
"What the fuck is tha-"
TEE-EHT
Vincent''s USP Mach hissed, ending the ex-agent''s fate
at the end of its barrel.
Though Jules was on the other side of the building, his trained ears heard the familiar sound of the CIA''s most handy weapon; A man''s best friend.
.
.
.
Jules caught up with Vincent
Vince started
"Did anybody see us?"
"Surprisingly...no. I know a suppressed weapon is quieter than a lot of things but... it''s not silent. And though this place is a bit vacant, there''s still some people around here..."
"Yeah..." responded Vinny, whipping out a cigarette and lighting its end.
"Did you bring a towel?" asked Jules
"Small one but, it''ll do"
Vinny sucked a sweet ounce out of his cigarette as he whipped out a small towel out of his back pocket. He stuffed the towel near the end of his gun''s barrel and proceeded to press it up against the door''s deadbolt and hole.
"On the count of three" started Vinny
"1
2
3-"
"CO-HOGGHUGH" coughed out Jules as the suppressed gun destroyed the lock.
They both frantically entered, struggling for a bit until they barged with brute force.
"Damn body, shit dude, who knew they actually weighed a bit" scoffed Vince
As they closed the door, they turned around and stared at the blood-soaked and brain matter-ed stains of their organizations history.
Jules furrowed his brow.
Vinny''s mouth was held agape.
"Oh my god..." quietly announced Vinny
"This guy...
This guy...
THIS GUY WAS ONTO ?? ?? NOTHING ?? ??
Can you believe this guy? I wouldn''t be surprised if only 10% of the information here was real. Honestly bro, guy died...FOR THIS? NAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH"
Vinny''s agape mouth finally morphed into its true form.
A yawn.
While Jules was flipping through folders and looking for a microwave, Vince commented at the scene.
"Y''know, I''m kinda glad they feed different ranks varying degrees of misinformation, I mean- honestly, these guys deserve what they get. Obnoxious really..."
"You''re implying that they deserve to get a bullet in the eye for seeking the truth?" asked Jules, barely paying attention
"No, I''m not implying it; I am deadass just saying it
Like honestly, as long as there''s a roof above your head and you get enough money to eat, sleep, shit, and repeat, why would you care?"
"Well to be fair, with that logic, that would imply that people living in communism are happy with their lives. They have a roof above their heads and they technically eat... somewhat, even if its slogs of porridge and shit"
"Ugh- I hate arguing with people who pay more attention than they should" commented Vince under his breathe before he continued.
"Counterpoint: different context. I''m talking about good ol'' US of A. I could give less of a rat''s ass about some third world sinkhole."
"Like how you could less about other people- within this country."
"Yes- ACTUALLY, YES! YOU GET IT!"
Jules gave Vince a tired stare.
"No but seriously," continued Vince
"I don''t get why these people look for... what they''re looking for. Do they not know who they work for??? Like- dude. Did you not agree to bomb other countries because of their vapid ideals? Did you not agree to eat good and shit gold?"
"Projecting a bit there"
"Ok yeah, I know. Counterpoint- Am I wrong?"
"Well, I''m assuming some of these people join just to get closer insight of The Company. Though, as we know, they all get weeded out rather quickly...
...
Say Vinny, are you tired?"
"Pssshhh, uh- yeah, of course I am. Dude I can''t wait to get those crepes, I''m telling you, that shit will make you CREAM; I''m barely exaggerating here, like, HELL, I could even PAY for yo-"
"No, not THAT you oaf" responded Jules in an annoyed tone
"I''m talking about the missions..."
"Oh what now? Are you getting cold feet on us now? You know how that goes..." muttered Vince
"No, the job isn''t the issue. Like you said, I could care less about killing and pillaging."
"Oh, based?"
"Stop saying that. But it''s not that I''m getting stressed about it. It''s just that I''m getting... bored of this, believe it or not."
"Wow you... are a fucking freak" teased Vince with his serpentine tongue
"Shut up."
"But what are you suggesting? Going into advanced Janitorial duty? Clean up a couple countries here and there?"
"No.
I want to join the spiritual branch"
"Hohoho- shit, I didn''t expect you for ''that'' type."
"I just feel like it''d be an interesting experience. Don''t you think?"
"I mean yeeeeeeeaaaaahhhhh. It could be fun. But remember this: we''re not just some ghostbusters taking down cute little goopy creatures. We''re still taking down terrorists with abilities we couldn''t even fathom; gods and beings higher than our very plane. Don''t be surprised if there''s a universal awakening every week"
"...The fuck are you talking about?"
"In all honesty, I don''t know, but I''ve heard some preeetty wacky stuff here and there. So, you sure about joining that branch?"
"I only live once."
"Tch, yeah
Fuck it, how about I join as well?"
"This wasn''t an invitation but ok"
"Then why are you telling me this if not for me to know or to weigh in?
Idiot."
"...
that....that wasn''t nice..."
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.
.
Vince dragged the corpse onto the bed and put another bullet in the back of it''s head. He then emptied two bullets out of the ex-agent''s gun and dropped the spent casings nearby. Jules grabbed as many documents as possible as well as the ex-agent''s laptop. He then proceeded to put a day-old burrito wrapped in copious amounts of aluminum foil into a microwave. He inputted 99:99 as the timer, then pressed enter. Vince reached for a small water bottle full of gasoline and made a gentle stream leading from the microwave, towards the wall and floor of the room.
"Aright, well, that''s that!" commented Vince in a chipper mood
"Now-" he clapped
"Denny''s?"
"I''m going straight to bed. You drive"
They exited out the door and scanned for witnesses.
To their right, a teenager with brown shaggy hair, covering his eyes stepped out of his motel room. He had a lanky physique and was generously tall at around 5''11". His hoodie was brown and beige. Though his hair covered his eyes, both of the agents still noticed that there was a bandana underneath those cloud-like bangs.
A silent exchange between the people took place.
"..."
"..."
Vince and Jules both pulled out their USPs and aimed it at the kid.
"?????"
Serious epilepsy warning
"..."
"..."
Both the agents, with a dumb blank stare on their face, holstered their weapons and walked quietly towards their car at a normal pace.
The doors slammed.
Jules was in the driver''s seat and Vince in the passenger.
As they both stared blankly in front of them, Jules noticed
"Hey wait a sec, I said you were driving!"
"W-W-what huh WAIT HUH WHAT?
WAIT THEN WHY''D YOU SIT IN THE DRIVER''S SEAT IN THE FIRST PLACE THEN???"
They switched seats then drove off
To Denny''s.
.
.
.
Around 7 minutes later, the Fire trucks pulled in and successfully contained the flames from spreading.
4 minutes after that, the news crew came by.
24 minutes after that, the police arrived.
Though there were only a few motel residents inside the building at the time, very few of them bore witness to a semblance of what occurred. Some only heard a loud hissing sound, and by the time they checked their windows, the man''s door was already closed. An old lady claimed that there was only a white handsome man. The other two witnesses claimed there were two of them. The most vocal about the situation was a tall teenage boy with shaggy bangs, a brown and beige hoodie, and a bandana that was sandwiched between his eyes and his cloud-like hair. He insisted that it was only a young Mormon missionary who came to pay a visit to the tenant, but it seemed the tenant had a rough day and shooed the Mormon away. Since the room was in fire, he probably accidentally burned his meal or killed himself on purpose. The Mormon missionary then quickly left the room without a fuss and walked away down the street.
At first, the police man taking in the boy''s story was skeptical beyond hell; he would sooner believe Obamna quickscoped Kennedy back in 1963 than believe whatever this kid was talking about.
Until the officer believed a little of the story.
Then he believed all of it.
Then he believed all of what the kid would say.
He didn''t ask any more questions, not to the kid in question or any of the other witnesses, and took the teenager''s word as gospel.
He walked back to his car with a blank stare, and looked at...nothing for the next thirty or so minutes.
Of course his partner was beyond confused on what the hell his problem was, but it was probably his marriage taking a toll on him. After all, getting cheated on whittles away at the psyche. Or so the partner thought.
Meanwhile, the main detective and a couple other officers on the scene examined the burnt remains of the room.
Loud flashes from cameras repeated every couple seconds. Two officers stood outside the room shooing the press away. One of them stood at the edge of the balcony and vomited all over; his spray unintentionally hit a news reporter''s hair. The officer "comforting" the gross officer sucked his cigarette and soaked in the scene. Back in the room, discussions over such an odd suicide method- if it even was one took place. The corpse was holding the gun, and there are two spent casings with the same caliber as the gun... but that doesn''t explain why there''s a hole on the door''s peephole. The detective looked left and right and scoured the room. There were carbonated skims of paper leftover, but they were indistinguishable in terms of what type of documents there were. The remains of a laptop charger were found, but no laptop in sight. Despite the short amount of time its been, the corpse was surprisingly burnt at an accelerated speed; left as a black and brown mummy with tightened skin and skin bubbles that freckled all throughout his body. The skin sunk deep into its face, making a permanent expression of disbelief and anguish. A pain so harsh, even the corpse was still processing it.
"Jesus..." said the detective
"I think it''s pretty clear sir," said a short ginger officer in their early 20s
"-but just in case, what do you want to call it? First degree murder? Robbery of property?"
"Yeah... it just keeps piling on and on..." responded the detective, soaking up the entire scene.
In an odd sense of morbid curiosity, he kept on discovering clue after clue after clue after clue until-
"Wait a sec" he said aloud
"Hank, gently flip the body over"
An officer did so
The detective realized the second hole in his head.
Frozen, the detective stood silent for a moment.
Most of the officers in the room looked at him confused.
Others stood silent and absorbed it for what it was.
And the few of them still didn''t process it.
After what felt like 15 minutes, the detective finally announced his sentiments.
"It''s a suicide.
Pack it up, this case is closed."
The Detective left the room quickly and quietly.
Standing at the balcony, he stared into the distance and soaked in the scene like a sponge full of vinegar.
He stared at the news crew who were approaching him with oversized cameras and long microphones. He witnessed the old lady covering her granddaughter''s eyes and comforting her. He heard the wind laugh at him, carrying over the audible conversations of the frustrated Motel residents and the stressed out Manager. He saw the teenager quickly slip back into his room with a smile on his face. He stared straight into the horizon.
As the sun rose, the red neon light that taunted him switched off, and the gray clouds parted through the middle. If only for a sliver, the blue sky announced itself, while the sun peered over his head.
If only things were that easy, on a typical American, Thursday.
Introduction Chapter: Naoki Miyamoto - Part 1
Around a year ago...
Naoki Miyamoto.
A remarkable student.
A lazy one though.
Standing at 5''6", a skinny, blonde goober had finally slithered out of his bed. His silky hair that went down to the level of his jaw smothered his face as he groggily took a couple steps toward his mirror. His vision blurry and full of eye boogers. He took a quick evaluation of himself:
"man... I look like shit"
"FEEL like shit..."
"and if I really wanted to risk a whiff, probably smell like it too..."
He looked at his digital clock, swearing he had something to do today
12:42 PM
"...
hm...
what could it be though..."
He opened his dorm''s door-
only to be greeted by a 6''2" 28 year old sweaty, muscle bound, tank top sporting chad, wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap.
"huh...." muttered Naoki aloud.
"(oh yeah... I had class)" he thought to himself as he realized the deep shit he just got himself into.
"uh"
He thought quickly on his feet as he was prompted with a speech check.
"what''s up big bro" Naoki shot out as he pointed finger guns at the superior.
"You suck at this" replied the Superior
"(Speech check failed I suppose.)" thought Naoki to himself.
"You''re late" continued the adult. "Six hours late actually. Got anything to say for yourself?"
"..."
Light bulb activated
"ah" started the goober
"12 huh? So that''s why I woke up in the middle of the night!"
Naoki shot out a convincing grin.
The adult was unamused. "Listen- guy" started the adult.
"I''m your buddy and all. But you gotta work with me. Hell, not just me, the entire school, you know? I know you want to fool around all day, I get that. I mean come on, I was a Sixteen year old dipshit once upon a time. But you can''t just laze about for the rest of your life, y''know?"
"Strong start but ok" replied Naoki in an aloof tone.
"And I''m not just nagging your ear off for the sake of pleasure. You think I want to be doing that? It''s taxing for the both of us. You hate it, I hate it, let''s not repeat this everyday."
Naoki rolled his eyes. "Ok, I get it" replied the juvenile
"I really don''t think you do" responded the adult.
Naoki''s face expressed mild annoyance whilst the adult''s face was one of concern.
The adult took off his sunglasses, knelt down put a hand on the kid''s shoulder and stared directly into the kid''s eyes
"Listen guy, all''s I''m saying is that you need to be motivated. Do something with your life. And I''m not insulting you here. Shit man, if anything, its pretty limited in our circumstance here but, you gotta get motivated. Preferably something for the better, but hey, your life is your life after all. The reason I''m telling you this is because the very moment you stop improving yourself in life- you''re dead. I''ve seen it happen right in front of my eyes. My best friend back then was the best out of all of us. He was like a brother to all of us. So good in his abilities that he didn''t have to train. Fair enough one would think, right? 6 months later-"
The adult clapped his hands together
"Split in half while we were on a mission. We were only 17."
Naoki glared.
"Naota... I think you''re taking this too seriously. We train enough as is. I''ll be fine. Let me enjoy myself. Not like we do much here anyway besides learn and train y''know."
Naota cut the kid off. "Yes, you''re training. But just the bare minimum."
Naoki scoffed and responded with a "Oh come on."
"Naoki... It doesn''t just have to be for the Academy. I know we''re limited in what we can do in the outside world, but even small gestures are appreciated."
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
Naoki squinted. "Where are you going with this."
"You can not only improve yourself, but the rest of the world. Other people''s feelings and positivity."
"Don''t we already do enough by saving their ungrateful asses?" blurted the kid out.
Naota chuckled as he stood back up. "Come on kid."
"What," responded Naoki in an almost frustrated manner
"I''m not asking you to save the world over and over again. I mean, we already do that, but nobody knows that we do. I understand your point of view and yes, its a good thing we do that, but I''m saying you should do the little things in society. The small acts of kindness that people can appreciate. Tipping a cashier, donating a couple bucks to a charity, helping an elderly person carry some groceries back to their car, etc. Any small bit of positivity can make a difference. A tiny one, I know. But its still something. I know you students are limited when it comes to socializing out in the streets. Only a couple hours on a single weekend with a fake identity limits the time and enjoyment you guys have- I get that. And I''m not asking you to dedicate your entire time to doing all these goods things, I''m just saying that doing a couple good deeds will help out. It''s good for society, and it''s good for the soul. "
Naota gave a warm smile.
Naoki squinted with a wry face. "Bullshit."
"...what?" Naota responded.
Naoki continued. "You, spreading your vile and na?ve false hopes. Ignorant to all the cruelty in the world. It doesn''t matter if we help another person out, they''re still going to be assholes the next day. Everyone is miserable. And any hope of clinging on to the notion of a peaceful or positive world is fucking stupid. I don''t understand how you''re 12 years older than me, and yet, you''re still this childish. To be a nice guy. Letting people trample over you while you sing to the choir and praise them for their assholish behavior. Virtue signaling and flaunting you''re ideology. I don''t understand how stupid a person can be."
The room is stiff. Naota''s face morphed from a warm smile, to a confused face, then to a squinted flabbergasted expression. Like he just realized his cat could talk. And despite it being able to talk, it was still speaking complete nonsense.
"Excuse you? Kid."
Naota latched onto Naoki''s head, brought him face to face, clashing their heads together as he stared into his soul.
"I say this as a brother, and I love you, but don''t say something so fucking stupid to my face ever again."
Naota let go of Naoki''s head before continuing.
"What''s wrong with you? I''m just saying to do small bit of good here and there. That''s literally all I''m saying."
Naota exaggerated his already confused expression. "Seriously, the hell dude."
A long awkward pause was held between the two of them.
"Alright, bad response, my bad." Admits Naota. "But, look kid. I understand where you''re coming from. But that''s not the way you should look at things. I know the world is a cruel place, I know, we can''t change everyone, and I know its all yadda yadda you and I already know this. I''ve lost people before and no doubt you have as well. But looking through such a cynical scope just makes life miserable. Just be a little motivated or happy for something is all I''m saying. Or at least try to be positive. I mean think about it this way, would you rather have a waiter that''s always frowning and just kind of an asshole, or would you rather have a pretty cheery guy to serve you."
Before Naoki opened his mouth, Naota cut him off.
"And don''t be a smartass about this now."
Naoki rolled his eyes and responded with "cheery guy I guess..."
"Exactly! Hell, its the same way with people. You think a people are going to have fun with some mopey loser? Of course not. They''re going to have fun with someone who lives a little. And I''m not saying that you aren''t like that already, I mean come on, we both know you''re a shitter already. If anything, I''m surprised by the amount of things you actually take seriously."
Naoki, unsure if that was an insult or a compliment responded with a mild "uh... thanks dude."
But before Naoki would get cut off by the older brother again, he responded with "Look dude, I already know that."
Naota gave a confused look and then prompted with a "Then what was that all for?"
Naoki shrugged and said "I guess I messed up. Blowing up on you like that wasn''t cool-"
Naota cut Naoki off.
"-Yeah, it really wasn''t."
Naoki ignored the cut off and continued.
"But I just don''t like it when someone''s acting all preachy y''know? It''s annoying."
Naota shook his head in a "so-so" expression, understanding where Naoki''s coming from.
Naota responded.
"It doesn''t hurt to be a good dude and make someone else''s day better. Just by being kind and spreading positivity makes everything a little less stressful. And if there''s an asshole that shrugs away your kindness? Screw them. You shouldn''t let some random asshole make your day worse. He''s the one with a stick up his ass after all. He''s having a bad day? Alright sure, we all have those. But again, it''s not like we''re going to let their problems ruin our mood. Improving social bonds is how we grow as people. And as such, being a cool dude is how one grows. That''s what the Buddha would say. Now of course, I''m not saying to become this infinite ray of positivity, that''s impossible. But being a cool dude is more than enough. Do you get what I''m saying?"
Naoki made a cheesy grin.
"In one ear, out the other~."
Naota gave a teasing punch to Naoki''s arm.
It was meant to be a light punch but it ended up dislocating Naoki''s arm off the shoulder joint.
After resetting Naoki''s arm back in place, they gave each other a bro hug and started their day working out.
As they walked out Naoki''s dorm, Naota gave one last lecture.
"No but seriously, if you feel like that, we can-"
Naoki cut Naota off.
"Naota, I''m not apathetic or depressed. I''m just lazy."
Naota squinted and gave the "dude" stare. A disappointed look that isn''t too serious, but at the same time, it''s the look you give your friend when you''re signaling them to get a bit serious.
.
.
.
Though they trained for the majority of the day, the true effectiveness of such regimens would soon be tested in a couple hours. Superhuman or not, mundane or otherwise,
Death would always haunt students as a glaring possibility.
Introduction Chapter: Naoki Miyamoto - Part 2
Several hours later, the same day.
8:43 PM
Downtown Osaka
The SAT (Japanese Counter-Terrorist unit) surrounds a capital bank. A hostage situation is occurring at the moment. Several forces surround the building, MP5s and AWPs pointed all around the building. That being said, these terrorists have their own professional measures. Already wounding several police officials, and even a couple of the counter terrorists that entered earlier, things aren''t as easy as the Counter Terrorists had thought. Not only that, but threats of bombs being planted all around the streets seemed implausible at first, but seeing the trouble that these guys are giving the Counter-Terrorists, they might not be bluffing. As much as the Counter Terrorists admit, these guys are good.
"Sir" a unit commented to the leader of the group.
"They''ve already taken out most of the police force and some of our men. What do you recommend?" they asked.
The commander tightened his fist, looked down, and reflected for a moment.
Two minutes passed.
"We''re going to have to call them." responded the Commander in a serious tone.
"Are you sure sir?-"
"You dare question me?"
"No sir... well, I just want to know what the plan is?"
"The terrorists have several forces in there. They already said that they have enough food for two days. Even if they take shifts sleeping, they have enough men to cover their blind spots, so playing the waiting and wearing game won''t work this time. Even if they run out of food, they already made a cannibal threat- which I''m not risking. We''re going to call them.
The Commander whipped out a hand sized conch out of his back satchel. He put it against his ear as if it were a phone.
"This is Commander Ushinada speaking. I want a Personal Sized Pizza, preferably with mushrooms. It''s for a party roughly around 30, and to make it as soon as possible. It will be for pick up."
He put the conch back in his satchel.
He picked up his radio
"To all Driver units at base, I need you to make a pick up for a Special Force Unit. I will send the coordinates in text. Be there as soon as possible."
He put the radio down and waited.
The Unit right next to him stared.
"Commander."
"Yeah?"
"What the fuck"
.
.
.
Meanwhile at the Ordinance Academy, meditating strangers behind black screens listened to the call of the Commander.
Wearing nothing but white ritualistic garbs, and white veils that covered their entire faces, these strangers telepathically communicated the one suitable for the job.
Naoki paused his G-mod session. The whispers of those that prayed. The assignment lodge. They''re calling him.
This could be the last day he lived. These sorcerers- both young and old, experienced and otherwise run these risks everyday. There is no guarantee that they''ll come back alive, much less unscathed. What would he lose today? An eye? An arm? Four vertebrae? The left hemisphere of his brain? How would he come back then? How would he call out for help? Who would he call for?
"Tch...
Not now anxiety, I''m in the fuckin zone"
He picked up his cloak, his iconic dark long brimmed hat, and his flute.
He walked down the halls and stood in front of the screen, waiting for the orders of the mindless zombies in front of him.
``A team of Terrorists have infiltrated Osaka''s Capital Bank. There seems to be a team of 30. Abide by the instructions of the Commander. Be sure not to get caught.``
Naoki tilted his head
"Is that all?" he asked
``Specific instructions shall be given by the Commander.``
"Alright"
`` Wait outside the border of the Academy. You will be picked up by the commander''s forces.
In the name of the Rising Sun.``
"Hm."
Naoki smirked.
"Gotcha."
Naoki walked for a good while. Exiting past the school were acres of forestry and land that''s existence was barely acknowledged by human society. Were any random hiker to wander into the forest, the magic imbued into the grounds would warp the space around the boundaries, and "tie together" the ends of the premises and warp them to the opposite side; literally walking through miles in less than an hour. As for those who are able to use PsychoPower, Magic, or Ki, they would be able to easily negate the invisible borders and walk through the actual paths. Naoki exited the premises and lightly jogged towards the edge outside the border. He waited a good 15 minutes until an armored Truck came by.
"God damn, all the way out here?" asked the SAT driver
"Hey man, privacy, ya know?" responded Naoki.
The SAT units waved off the comment and motioned him to get in.
They drove Naoki back to the bank. On the way there, they gave him special instructions.
.
.
.
As the armored truck arrived at the scene, the news cameras and crowd of people grew restless.
Even the limited amount of information and heavy barriers to the scene couldn''t keep the public from wanting to see who the special sole savior was. Someone so special that the Special Forces needed to drag him all the way here just to finish the job. It felt like it was some sort of action movie or video game. A Solid Snake or a John Wick figure to save the night.
As the back door opened, a heavily armored individual came stomping out. Gear so thick and concealed, not a single sliver of identifiable description could be revealed about the man underneath the blanket of steel they called "armor". For all the public knew, this guy actually was six feet tall. Or were they just thick rooted Boots? And there''s no way someone has that thick of a torso. The guy is literally as wide as a door. Then again... this is the guy that they dragged along here to take care of business. Some armored metahuman superhero to save the day. This would be the hero for the public.
The metal man trudged along with his Combat Rifle, and entered into the dark overtaken fortress of the Terrorists. Through the tinted windows, the public could barely make out any sight of him. It didn''t help that the turned off lights blurred the visage of their savior. The blurred sight gave the public an ethereal glimpse of their dark hero.
"..."
The metal man picked up his radio
"Team, do you copy?"
"Loud and clear, toaster"
"Cool. I''m taking this thing off.
"Taking what off exactly?"
"All of it. It''s annoying."
Inside the armored Truck, The Commander already face palmed.
"I asked for help..." he whispered to himself
"And they sent me a god. damn. TEENAGER."
Naoki dropped the rubber rifle, all 86 pounds of armor, the additional backpack, and the radio.
...before picking it back up.
"By the way we can talk telepathically, so I''m dropping the radio too"
He dropped the radio... only to pick it one last time again
"Over and out."
He dropped it for real this time while giving the cheesiest grin.
"(Snarky son of a..."
wait a second
wait a second
I don''t know how to talk telepathically???)" thought the Commander.
He heard the teenager''s voice in his head
"You don''t need to"
"WHAT THE?"
"Hi. Its Naoki. Since I can read your mind, and I can speak to you this way, we don''t really need a radio. Say, shouldn''t you be used to this since this isn''t your first time calling us?"
The Commander responded by thinking.
"I knew you all could telepathically communicate. That being said, none of the other students or agents were disobedient enough to drop the radio entirely."
"Well, I guess I am just ahead of my time" chuckled Naoki.
"Anyway," he continued, "your head space isn''t the most pleasant, and I''ve got a mission to finish. So I''ll just update you on anything interesting. See you later.
Oh by the way, I see in the corner of your mind that you''re developing Dementia."
"WHAT? Really?" thought the Commander loudly
"No. I''m just fuckin with you.
Anyway, talk to you later."
The Commander sat on his seat... quietly.
"Sir," a unit asked him calmly
"Are you okay sir?"
After a couple minutes, the Commander responded with a stressed groan. He put his hands on his brow.
"I...
Fucking hate this kid."
.
.
.
Naoki grabbed his cloak, flute, sneakers and iconic long brimmed hat from the backpack.
He smiled to himself.
"It''s a Friday night.
Let''s Dance."
.
.
.
Naoki tip-toed around the building. So far, it seemed that the Terrorists weren''t guarding the first few floors. Rather, they were chilling on the last upper levels.
Cool.
...
So what''s Naoki''s marvelous plan this time?
Step 1: Play it Stealthy.
Step 2: WING IT.
"Hm"
Naoki thought it through his head as he slithered around the halls and made sure to go up the stairs rather than through the elevator.
"I got it" he thought to himself
Telepathically, he attempted to read the minds of those that were in the upper floors.
Large screeching overlapping voices bounced off his mind, annoying the ever living HELL out of him.
Panic. Fear. Violence. Lust. Sadness. Rage. Greed. Cheesemborgor. He had unintentionally read the minds of the hostages and the Terrorists on the floor directly above him. Bad start to say the least.
He regained his composure and began again slowly this time. His mind was a radio, tuning into the right frequencies, pin-pointing where the enemies were and planning accordingly.
"So all of them are pointing their guns at every entrance eh? That''s annoying..."
He looked at the ceiling and noticed the ventilation shaft that would logically be close to the one upstairs.
"Alright, I''ve got a plan. Thing is though..." he thought to himself looking at his feet
"I''m not tall anymore..."
"Should''ve kept those boots just for this occasion.
...
Nah, these sneakers costed 13,000 Yen; no way am I going to not wear them on a mission."
He whipped out his flute, pointed it upwards and hoped to god nobody was looking.
He proceeded to hop directly underneath the vent whilst playing a soft tune.
Though since the hopping would mean every second there was an exasperated whistling sound that made the tune sound rather off-kilter, it was Naoki''s only choice. At least until he found a new plan.
.
.
.
Meanwhile upstairs, the Terrorists and Hostages heard a subtle odd, yet comforting tune.
"... The hell is that?" asked one of the Terrorists.
"Charlie, you playin'' your fockin ''its the 19th century and you''re an evil villain taking over the world to classical music'' shit again?"
"No Declan," responded the other Terrorist
"I would never do that on a mission like this."
The hostages and Terrorists looked around in a confused and almost dazed tone.
"IS IT ONE OF YOU FUCK''S RING TONES???" shouted one of the Terrorists.
"IF YOU DON''T START SIGNALING WHO IT IS, I''M POPPING HEADS."
The Hostages started looking even more frantically as their lives were in greater jeopardy.
As much as the Terrorists tried to distract themselves with forced anger, the tune rang even louder in their head. The vision of white, yellow, and pink fields of blooming poppies and dandelions filled the minds of everyone in the room. The Terrorist''s and Hostages eyelids were drooping down as dumbbells forcefully dragged their eyes shut. The smell of enticing fruits and fragrances filled the noses of those who listened to the tune. A euphoric bliss that covered everyone in a blanket of slumber. Rows of roses fell down. A sky of pink blossom leaves. Gentle statues, warmth of a mother; smiling sun, sin turn to a sunder. Throughout Heaven and Earth, the lullaby echoed; their rest inevitable, nature took its course, grasping everyone''s consciousness, rocking them to a peaceful slumber. Everyone was fast asleep without a warning.
.
.
.
Soon after, Naoki climbed up the stairs and went into the room, sporting a smug grin.
"Skitchura"
The teenager stood over the slumbering bodies as he counted the number of terrorists in the current floor.
He telepathically communicated with the Commander.
"12 down. Only need like 18 left if the number of Terrorists earlier was correct."
The Commander thought back
"I hate to say this but, great job. If you spot any officers or men from my unit, please make sure they aren''t in critical condition, and do what''s necessary to keep them safe. I highly doubt they''re in any position to move or fight back, but if you rescue them, please have them escort the hostages safely."
Naoki looked around
"Sorry dude, not gonna happen. All the Officers and men from your unit are bruised and knocked out cold. Thankfully, nobody''s dead yet, but I''d recommend starting to get your men to pick them all up. I only have a couple of floors left from the looks of it, but seeing as how these guys have bullets in them from who knows how long ago, I think it''s the best course of action."
The Commander nodded
"Great. I''ll send them in right now."
"Just don''t let them get in my way" responded Naoki.
The Commander squinted.
"Pardon?"
"No, not like an asshole type of way; I''d just say to have them at least one or two floors under me just so that I don''t accidentally knock them all out when I intend on knocking out the other Terrorists. Avoiding friendly fire, y''know?"
"I understand. I''ll send them inside the building in eight minutes. Over and Out."
The telepathic call ended.
"Alright, now just to do this like 3 more times and then I can go back to playing GMOD until 4 in the morning."
.
.
.
He proceeded to the exact same plan upstairs.
Little caveat though.
It seems these troops were better trained than the ones downstairs, seeing as how they reacted quicker and spoke to their radios. They alarmed the others about a sound that grew louder before they all went to sleep.
"Well shit." thought Naoki
"I thought I could just cheese this entire mission, but it looks like they want me to THINK this time. Even though I want the rest of the team to be as stupid as the one downstairs, I can''t really help but to play it smart and deduce that the boss isn''t fuckin stupid. GOD. I actually have to TRY this time" he blurted out before he covered his mouth.
"..."
"Yeah. They definitely heard that one...
Great job Naoki
Thanks I know" he responded to himself, losing his shit on the spot.
FUCK!
He slapped himself.
"FOCUS" he whisper-shouted to himself.
He sighed.
"So now, what are my tools..."
He looked to the left of him. An Elevator.
"Hm."
"..."
"..."
"Lightbulb."
He pushed the elevator button.
The metal coffin pulled up through the levels until it reached his floor.
DING!
"Hm."
"This always works in movies." he said to himself with a smug grin.
.
.
.
Meanwhile upstairs, all the snakes pointed their machine guns at the elevator entrance. Their cold, unblinking stares concentrated on those metal doors. The sound of their leather gloves squeaked as they tightened their grip. With repeated training, all of their crosshairs and lasers overlapped one another into a single, glaring red dot the size of a fist. Silence befell them. Each terrorist could only hear the sound of their slow breathes. Their hearts muted. Their brains concentrated. The whirring of the elevator was the loudest thing in the entire space. So busy with the task, that they ignored the hostages tied in the back. The very frame that those doors open, they''ll rain hell upon that Teenager.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
DING!
The doors opened.
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATATATTATATATATATTATATATATTATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATTATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATTATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATTATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATTATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATTATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATTATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATTATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATTATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATTATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATTATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATTATATATATTATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATATTATATATATATTATATATATATTATATA
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The deafening sounds of machine gun fire rang all around the Bank. Several hostages would immediately receive ear drum damage. Hundreds of casings littered the floor as if someone dropped an open bag of rice and threw it everywhere. The sounds of the guns dry firing from the lack of ammunition proceeded to occur for a couple of seconds. There was barely a wall left in the elevator. Frankly, there was barely an elevator left. In a matter of seconds, the remaining part of the elevator that held itself together was seconds away from ripping and falling into the abyss down below. All that was left were the lingering smokes coming from the barrels.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
.
.
.
One of the terrorists then realized it.
"Huh.
Heh.
Hah.
Hahah.
Hahahaha!"
The other Terrorists looked at him in confusion and asked
"What''s so funny?"
He responded.
"This guy! Oh man... For being some super soldier, this guy sure does watch a ton of movies. Or... he''s just too fucking stupid
He''s hiding in the ceiling of the elevator and he''s going to do a surprise drop down on us."
He grabbed a grenade from his pouch.
"Like I''m going to let that happen."
"FIRE IN THE HOLE, TAKE COVER"
All of the Terrorists ducked and hid behind the walls as they covered their ears and braced themselves.
He pulled the pin and threw the grenade into the elevator, eviscerating the little remains of the lift.
An ear-piercing explosion rang throughout the entire bank as several glass planes exploded from the shockwave alone.
.
.
.
All the terrorists in the room peeked into the smoke.
.
.
.
There was nobody there.
The Terrorist chuckled
"And all of you owe me a beer!"
They all laughed.
All hope was lost.
"Oh yeah I got''cha right here"
"Oh Gee tha- KRRRNNNCCHHHH"
The terrorist turned behind and was immediately met with a brutal left hook that indented 4 inches into his face.
"WHAT THE-" the three other terrorists blurted out in unison.
In an instant, Naoki shifted from his left hook, into a right hook that landed perfectly into another Terrorist''s liver. A shock rippled throughout his body from the sheer gargantuan pain. A gut punch from Thor himself, a nauseous feeling from the body shutting down, the Terrorist threw up immediately into his own gas mask and flopped over like a bag of rocks. Naoki transitioned into a swift left kick that landed on another Terrorist''s head. Despite the fact that the Terrorist was wearing a helmet, getting hit directly in the face with the force of a sledgehammer is still- getting hit in the face with a sledgehammer. No matter what man-made high grade tier of armor that helmet is made out of, it''s not going to save him. And last but not least, the Terrorist that was effortlessly double leg tackled. The enemy was lifted off the ground like a gorilla ragdolling a toddler; Naoki proceeded to jump up and land directly into the Terrorist''s head. Again, though the terrorist was wearing a helmet, the weight of another person on top of one''s own weight being forced upon the cranium is going to cause damage no matter what. Doesn''t matter how thick that helmet is, at best, he''s dazed for a couple hours. At worst, he''s left a vegetable. Not to mention, the awkward angle of which the neck is landed upon. It''s one thing to soak up the shock of the force with a helmet (if one is lucky), it''s another if it all goes out the window and they land directly on their head and neck.
Left right left right.
Boom bam boom bam.
1 2 3 4.
4 terrorists down in the span of 2.8 seconds.
Naoki got up from the slam and admired his work.
"Guess training with Naota really helped out in this case eh? I suppose there really was a point to getting slammed on my head repeatedly during training..."
He knelt down to an unconscious terrorist''s face
"For you, this might''ve been the most brutal application of Martial Arts forced upon you. But for me?
It''s just Friday."
One of the hostages chewed the tape over his mouth and spat it out.
"You... How did you get here? The Elevator was blown up!"
Naoki gave the Hostage the dude stare
"Dude..."
He pointed at the stairs.
"There''s stairs...?"
The Hostage continued.
"Then how did the Elevator come up?"
Naoki face-palmed.
"Apparently it''s rocket science to press one button in an elevator and step out afterwards."
An awkward silence ensued.
Naoki then continued towards the stairs.
The Hostage frantically moved.
"Wait! Aren''t you going to untie us?"
"That job''s for the other guys that are coming in a bit. I just need to kick some guy''s ass and call it a night. Hang tight!"
The teenage knight disappeared up the dark stairs... all while ignoring the curses that the hostage threw at him.
Naoki used the same telepathic-radio sense to scan for how many people left.
"huh... there don''t seem to be any more hostages left. And the last guy up top seemed kinda fuzzy in terms of readability. Oh well, must be because I''m not used to high altitudes and my brain''s getting funky or some shit."
"Speaking of which, now that the elevators gone, the next guy should expect me to take the stairs.
hm..."
.
.
.
Meanwhile, upstairs, A brutish man holding an M249 camped directly in front of the stairs with a sniveling grin.
"HEEHEE HEHAH!
CHUMP WILL HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO TAKE A GAMBLE AT BEING TURNED INTO SWISS CHEESE"
"Oh really?" responded the voice of Naoki from behind.
"HUH?"
The brute automatically turned around and unleashed 60 ear-piercing merciless rounds from his gun. He found nothing but smoke, and a blurry crater on the wall.
He turned around again-
only to see that the door was open.
"SHIT"
He saw the silhouette of Naoki''s cape flow past a corner. Of course, the Brute responded by spraying a horizontal line past the path that he thought Naoki took, hoping to bisect the little shit. Meanwhile, Naoki''s not in a good mindset at the moment either. Currently, he''s in a ducked position, mere inches away from being turned into said swiss cheese. He''s got a graze on his bicep, the terrorist is wearing headphones while shooting a loud ass machine gun which makes the flute pretty useless at the moment and worst of all, there are HOLES in his GODDAMN CAPE.
"Alright..." he said to himself.
"Let''s just hope this works one last time."
A voice rang inside the Brute''s mind.
"Hey try aiming next time" Naoki said, whispering in the Brute''s left side.
"TCH!"
The Brute pointed directly in front of him instead of to the left of him.
"I DON''T KNOW HOW YOU''RE DOING IT, BUT I''M NOT FALLING FOR IT AGAIN" he responded whilst unloading a flurry of bullets.
"Dumbass."
"HUH?"
Turns out, Naoki did come out from out the left side, evading the machine gun that was about to be pointed his way while throwing a meaty hook to the lard ball''s face, knocking the headphones off of his greasy ears. The hook stunned him for an instant, before continuing to handle his machine gun with both hands and aimed directly at Naoki''s head. Both of them quickdrew their weapons. The flute vs the machine gun. The Cheesiest Virgin against the Brutish Mercenary. Naoki''s flute aimed squarely at the pig''s head. The Brute aimed his at the lanky teenager''s chest. Both attempt to pull their triggers at the same time.
One acts late by a mere microsecond.
.
.
.
A loud bang ruptured the area.
Darkness enveloped the room.
The manifestations of his sins crawled and enveloped his vision. His temptations and vices grasped him. He had realized that the decisions he had chosen to get in this very situation had caused him his own death. He had realized that he was his own bitch to his own wants. A slave that was being ripped apart by his own psyche. The weight of his miserable existence weighed him down. His vision skewed as death''s cold grasp wrung him like the little rag of shit he was. His muscles weighed tons. A feverish coldness shocked his body instantly. A gut wrenching feeling deep in the stomach that made him vomit only clear liquid. The chemicals in his brain were halted as cockroaches and spiders crawled into his skin and eyeballs. Wriggling insects ruptured all throughout his body. Desperately trying to take them all off, only for the burden of his own body''s weight to halt him from succeeding in such a simple task. The melted figure of an infinite ooze. Suffering like the little greaseball he was. All while the voices of God and the Devil berated him in unison, cackling at his suffering as an awful chorus of noise invaded his mind.
The Brute looked pathetically at Naoki.
With eyes that faced in jagged directions, the Brute cried with desperate tears.
"WHA- WHAT DID YOU DO????????"
The Mercenary continued to squirm and seize on the floor with no hope of stopping. Seemingly infinite pain enveloped his person, frying his neurons to the point of being unable to feel anything else. A twisted feeling. A distorted point of view. Suffering.
Naoki knelt down at the living corpse that was the Brute''s disabled body.
The imp smiled and responded.
"Your mother."
Naoki dusted himself off.
"I always wanted to do that.
Now... on to the last guy."
Naoki didn''t rush himself as he sauntered up the stairs, bracing himself for what the big bad guy would look like. Is he going to be some douchebag in a suit waiting patiently for him? Is he going to be a bigger, badder brute than the last guy? Is he going to be some pig monster? Or is he going to be a... she?
"Man, I sure hope it''s the last one," thought Naoki to himself.
"That''d be soooo hot."
There it was.
The CEO''s gate''s.
Naoki slicked his brim, dusted himself off and calmed his nerves.
"Iiiiits Showtime!" he whispered to himself one last time.
.
.
.
Naoki kicked the door open as he played a jovial tune on his little flute. There he was. The leader of the Terrorist group. A bald man that had his fair share of scars and burns. Wearing a bulletproof vest, appropriate pants and shirt for the occasion, and look at that! He''s holding a bolt-action AWP. Because of course he is.
Silence was met between the two.
"..."
"..."
.
.
.
The leader broke the ice with his fluent Japanese skills, as well as a cold, shivering growl of a voice.
"You look like a fucking moron."
Naoki responded.
"...Trust me, I''d love to clap back but god DAMN you are not pleasant to look at."
The leader chuckled.
"So this is who they send after me. A kid in a pilgrim costume. Je-sus christ. This is more embarrassing for you than it is for me. Honestly!"
Noaki cut him off.
"I know you''re going to villain monologue, and you''re going to hate me me for this but- I don''t care"
The Villain''s arrogant smirk disappeared into a cold frown.
"You''re going to die paralyzed and with a slit throat."
Naoki threw his hat at the villain.
Of course the villain dodged it.
"You trying to do an Oddjob impression? You should work on your throwing skills." commented the Villain
"No. I threw it just so that you would stop talking. Unfortunately, I failed."
Naoki sprinted at the Villain, throwing a combination of punches while throwing kicks in there to disorient him. Turns out, even the amped up spiritually powered teenager couldn''t keep up against the guy who''s been a mercenary for a couple decades.
"You''re good kid," commented the Villain as he parried Naoki''s strikes with mild difficulty.
"But not good ENOUGH"
The leader parried Naoki''s elbow and threw an elbow of his own towards Naoki''s nose, then immediately sending a one inch punch towards Naoki''s sternum.
Naoki flew away from the blast. He tumbled and rolled aggressively. His breathing was jagged and painful. His entire diaphragm felt like a shotgun just exploded all over it. Most of his ribs had just turned into dust. He was bleeding and coughing up copious amounts of blood.
The Villain gave a disgusted look.
"Whaaaaat? Are you not impressed?
...Oh...
Come on
Of course I know Ki manipulation. How else would I be such a badass? Mercenary work isn''t just the guns you carry. It''s the mentality of survival. And when you''re out of bullets, the only way to do your job properly is by-"
The villain reinforced his leg with steel like durability, and kicked Naoki in the stomach with his harshest vigor. A loud THWACK was heard.
"-doing it with your own two hands."
"HHHHHNNNNGGGG....fucker" wheezed Naoki.
Naoki pulled out his flute and inched its mouth piece towards his lips.
"Tch. Alright." scoffed the Mercenary leader.
The villain walked back to the desk, picked up his Sniper Rifle and casually aimed it perfectly at Naoki''s neck.
Bang.
Naoki stumbled to the floor holding his neck. Bleeding profusely, he didn''t expect it to end like this.
He had no thoughts other than- "damn."
The villain knelt down and looked closely at Naoki''s neck.
"oooohhhhh.... Reinforced Ki eh? If it weren''t Reinforced, that bullet would''ve gone through you clean. Seen it happen before. Unfortunately for you boy, reinforcing that skin only prolonged your suffering. I''ll help you with that."
And the last thing Naoki saw was the villain''s rough, dirty, and cold metal boot stomp and stomp and stomp Naoki''s vision into a black and red screen. The first one was the one that hurt the most. Of course each one hurt, but the more the stompings continued, the more the impact numbed; the smell of iron and the warm red liquid oozed down his consciousness. The last thing he felt were the two textures coalescing together in one fuzzy frenzy.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The villain looked up.
He was holding his rifle.
Naoki was across from him.
"What the...
What the hell...?"
Naoki stood still with a startled expression. As if he just walked in on his hypothetical girlfriend sleeping with another man.
The Villain, not being absolutely ignorant about the world connected two and two together.
"Oooooooohhh... You put me in a trance state with that little flute of yours earlier, right?
And the only reason I''m awake now is because I did some Psycho training a couple years back. Guess I''m not in a trance forever eh? What a shame. If you weren''t retarded, you would''ve killed me by now" he chuckled, shrugging at the notion of such stupidity. "Lost your chance. Not my problem."
"You..." Naoki whispered
"No...
What the fuck dude"
Naoki''s heart sank as he had read the truth inside the villain''s mind.
The Leader gave a confused glance... only to realize
"Oh... psh, you read my mind.
Yup.
The CEO of the bank helped us. Or rather, vice versa."
"Why?" asked Naoki.
The leader shrugged.
"Robbery is a victimless crime. He gave us all the security pass codes, dampened the security for this specific day, we rob him, cops and special forces are so scared of us that they let us go with some cash. The government reimburses the CEO. Everyone is happy in the end. Hell if anything, those hostages downstairs? A little ''trauma paycheck'' to fix up their mood. Everyone gets more money at the end of the day. Looking back, I bet that CEO is having a field day. Yeah, what a day to ''call in sick'' huh?" motioned the Villain with finger quotation marks.
Naoki''s demeanor shifted into a quieter, intense frustration.
"But you hurt them...?"
"Oh come on kid. We only bruised them here and there just to scare them. We never killed anyone. Er- we never killed any of the hostages really. It''s the Police and Counter-Terrorists'' fault for intervening; they signed up for the job after all. Only thing I could say is that I hope they said goodbye to their wife and kids before they got a bullet to the temple. It''s our field of work, both of our forces know how it is. And anyway in the end, it was just a waiting game until the cops and special forces gave up. We''d only kill a hostage if someone was really rowdy and trying to act like a hero. And you never know when they send in the big guns, or well, I do now. But even then, it''s not good enough." he chuckled.
Naoki''s mouth was filled with a sour taste. As if someone had came in his mouth. As if the stench of boiled rotten egg had filled the room. A disgusted expression filled with vile vengeance. His mouth quivered; drool pooled out. His jaw unhinged; his teeth revealed themselves like some feral jungle creature. An intense blank stare as his pupils vibrated in place with sheer aggression.
Naoki took off his cloak, revealing a tank top.
No words left his mouth.
"Kid, go home. I''m going to win this. There''s no reason for you to even try. Everybody wins at the end of the day. I really don''t understand why you''re doing this. What do you get from it? The validation of being some sort of good guy? Come on. Grow the fuck up. There''s no such thing as heroes in this world; only people trying to get paid."
"I''m not trying to be a hero. It''s exactly like you said, I''m just doing a job" responded Naoki while cracking his neck and knuckles.
The leader rolled his eyes.
"If you want to fight so badly, then you leave me no choice. I don''t like killing children... but damn. Am I good at it." taunted The Leader.
"Fighting here... the top of a Tower... that''d be a cool way to die." commented Naoki as he marched confidently towards the Leader.
"If you think you''re going to lose before the fight starts, you will lose. Didn''t they teach you that?"
"I was talking about you."
The leader gave a grotesque and malevolent snicker.
The teenager took his last deep breathe and whispered to himself
In the name of the Rising Sun
The Villain pulled the trigger of the AWP.
```Ki Technique: Deflector```
Naoki proceeded to slam his fist directly into the Sniper''s bullet mid trajectory.
He looked at his hand.
A 50 BMG Heavy Caliber Bullet was lodged in his hand, splitting it in half.
"huh..."
"Guess you were right, Naota..."
The numb sensation in his right hand slowly eased up to burning hot lava. The adrenaline barely kept Naoki sane. The pain.
The pain. The pain. The pain. Life is all about pain. And in order to enjoy life. You. Must. Love it.
Naoki sprinted at Mach speed towards The villain who was in awe before he could chamber another round.
The Merc dropped the rifle and whipped out his knife, aiming directly towards Naoki''s heart. Naoki proceeded to plunge his left hand directly into the knife. Using Reinforced Skin, Naoki forcefully closed the wound on his left hand so that the knife wouldn''t slice it clean off. With the Villain stuck for a few seconds, Naoki kicked the Villain in the balls. And even while wearing a crotch protector, the force was enough to crack the piece. As the Villain leaned forward from the low blow, his face was met with Naoki headbutting him with vigor and rage. Naoki finally threw his most powerful kick to the inside of the villain''s right knee, dislodging it; the mercenary fell down. Naoki wouldn''t dare let this opportunity go to waste.
He heard his Naota''s words ringing in his ears.
Pain sucks. Pain drives you crazy. But that pain and craziness is that wake up call that makes you realize you''re alive. Let that craziness guide you. For better or for worse.
Naoki jumped up and attempted to stomp on The villain''s head. The Villain rolled to his good side and tried to get up with one knee. His face was then greeted by one knee.
The villain transferred the energy of his roll to stand up. Of course this was a massive pain for him, considering one of his legs was facing the wrong way. But he''d rather fight back than become a victim to this fucking maniac.
As Miyamoto chased after his enemy, The leader responded back with a couple of punches that they traded each other with, as well as sending a clean high kick to the face.
Unfortunately, Naoki was already used to High kicks from Naota so arching back and dodging them was automatic nature for him. He punished the whiffed kick by grabbing the sideways facing Villain, suplexing him up high, and slamming his neck directly on the floor. It would''ve left any ordinary man paralyzed at that point.
The merc stood up shaking. Both of them were bruised, bloodied, and full of vile disdain for the other.
The leader, so blind with envy and rage, being bested by someone half his fucking age, ran and tried to tackle Naoki.
The villain''s hand met with Naoki''s legs.
Naoki, denying the tackle, propped up the leader at an awkward stature, and placed his teeth onto the villain''s nose.
"Got your nose."
SHRRRRIIPP
A guttural shriek so loud, the entire town square heard it.
A noise so inhuman, people weren''t sure if they were imagining it or not.
The Villain fell down and frantically clasped his hands over his nose- or at least the place that used to be his nose. Stumbling backwards, the leader looked all throughout the room for options. The gun was far away. The radio worked... but with all of his men down, there''d be no point! There''s got to be something...anything! The pain was so overwhelming, the shock had started to lose its effect. The stench of iron was the only thing he could sense. Blood and sweat covered his eyes, he could barely see the menace that was approaching him. What to do...WHAT TO DO...
This kid.
What the fuck is this kid?
"Why!?" shrieked the villain with a single tear in his eye.
"Because I hate you" snarled Miyamoto.
Both of them stared at each other.
Blood loss and energy consumption was getting the most of them.
"(I''m tired.
So tired.
The only reason I''m even awake is because I hate this guy so much I want to ensure he dies a painful death)." thought Naoki to himself.
Naoki fell to the floor. He limped towards the Villain and closed his eyes. He felt as if he stood up. He heard footsteps behind him. He hoped people were watching, as he used the last of his remaining might to kick The villain out the glass window.
.
.
.
.
.
Couple days have passed.
Naoki was in the Ordinance Academy hospital getting healed from all his injuries.
The Commander was impressed by the work that Naoki accomplished. There were no hostages, officers, special forces or even Terrorists that were killed while Naoki was operating. He suggested good strategies with the deployment of the Special Forces Units, and just did what he was asked to do. Simply outstanding. They would''ve treated Naoki for the good work, but since he was unconscious when the Units found him, and if he didn''t have blood supplied to him immediately, he would''ve died. So instead, they sent him a congratulatory letter and a white Hershey''s bar.
Naota and a couple other students were hanging around Naoki while he was recovering. They were impressed by the strategies and sense of humor that he employed when he explained his exploit. Not only that, but he got to play GMOD while in bed with no assignments for some time. Cool.
Despite the celebrations, Naoki was bothered by some thoughts while he was playing. Those inevitable thoughts that one gets; doing one thing while they''re in a completely separate place as one would say. The student asked Naota some things while they were alone together.
"Hope the Commander wasn''t mad about the whole destruction of property thing. I understand not everything can be salvaged, but at least I did the best I did y''know? And I''ll take that."
"Exactly!" agreed Naota.
"Though, I think kicking that guy out the window was a bit overkill, so I do want to say sorry about that."
"Window? Pssshhhh, the hell are you talking about?" chuckled Naota while he gave his comrade a confused stare.
A long pause between the two occured.
Naoki''s expression turned from one of regret, into one of emptiness. His stomach sank. Unsure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.
"Ah." finally let out Naoki.
Naota could read his younger "sibling''s" expressions like a book.
That being said:
"Naoki..." prompted Naota, as his expression morphed from one of confusion to one of worry.
"That never happened..."
Introduction Chapter: Naoki Miyamoto - Part 3
A couple weeks passed after the operation.
I explained my dilemma to Naota.
About the murderous intent to kill such a vile piece of shit. About the stress of losing my life in such a mid tier assignment. Ironically enough, getting killed by a human instead of a ghost or sorcerer is more embarrassing than dying on a mission. The anger that I bore for the CEO of a multinational Bank risking the lives of many, just to give a couple hundred dollar checks to his workers and probably a million dollars for himself. It''s all so crazy to me. This is the type of shit that Naota warned about as a kid. And to think I wouldn''t believe him then. The fact that this happens more often than anyone would guess. Now that''s crazy.
And then Naota gets confused when I act all angsty. It''s like- motherfucker, if this happens all the time, wouldn''t you think of giving up too?
Whatever.
In some minor news, despite saving them, the special forces refuse to give me an after action report of what happened. I understand that they had to take the credit for publicity''s sake, I get that. But to prevent the guy no- the kid that saved their asses and did 90% of the work from looking at the after action report? It''s like "Yeah thanks for doing us a solid. By the way, we''re going to pretend we never met your sorry ass. Here''s a white Hershey''s bar though. Bye!" Like alright dude, just admit you''re cumming in my eye at this point. At least give me the satisfaction of being blunt and upfront with me- or better yet- take me out to a nice dinner and a smooth back massage- before yOU FUCK ME.
Going back though, the thought of killing that fucker still sort of lingers. I don''t think I killed him, judging from the look that Naota gave me. I really wish I did. Genuinely. I suppose its one thing for a mercenary to bluff about killing children in the past- but when I can read minds, I can assure anyone that what I saw was not a fucking a bluff. It seems that no matter what "honorary service" you do for your first world country, you drop your morality the very second your boot steps into that inferior third world sand. But to that degree? What he did to those women and what he allowed his men to do to those children? I don''t think so. But what do I know? I''m just a stupid fucking teenager after all.
That being said though, at least after reflecting for so long, I can put it to rest. Best case scenario, I kicked that bitch through the window, and he''s gone. Worst case scenario, I beat him to a bloody pulp and he''s sent to some maximum security prison where he''ll only get to see the light of day once a month. Both are quite frankly... pretty good endings. Even if I want him dead, him suffering until the day he dies is an alright sentence.
But in all honesty, that Mercenary was just the tip of the iceberg. The shit that really got me was the CEO, and how I can do nothing against him. I can''t exactly file a lawsuit against him in court.
A. I''m a child, so naturally, who do you think everyone is going to side with.
B. My only evidence is the fact that the Mercenary leader told me. And if that''s not hard enough to believe, the fact that I have to tell everyone I read his mind is going to close the case in 5 seconds.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.C. I am not a good lawyer. And the fact that he can cherry-pick any 5 Star plastic faced professional liar to case-close my ass, only deepens my grave.
D. I don''t exist in the eyes of the government. I (and everyone associated with the Ordinance Academy in general), don''t exist on paper. If someone catches me in public, especially if I''m caught doing something wrong, they won''t send me back to school; they''ll execute me and hide evidence of my existence so... that''s that.
It''s all so frustrating. I even told that news to Naota and with a grimace, he shrugged and said that there''s nothing we could really do.
The Ordinance Academy, as a subdivision of the Japanese Government, naturally has deep connections to every important person in the country. There''s no reason for the Academy to trifle with another powerful person''s life. The handshakes from politicians are more powerful than any sun-throwing sorcerer or Demon Summoning asshole could ever wish to be. Favors exchanged for favors, money traded for votes, new ideas drowned out by safe, correct opinions. Standing out and questioning the way things are would only hurt the Political Power that the Ordinance Association bears. Telling this news to the Principal would probably end up with him laughing at our faces. There''s nothing that I, nor anyone can really do. Those appeals and forms for a hearing would only get shuffled to the bottom of the priority list- only to end up being automatically declined fourteen years later after it finally reaches the Ordinance counsel''s hearing circle.
So that''s that.
There really is nothing we can do.
But for once, I''m not regressing back into a mopey loser.
It''s something that Naota said after I told him the news. That despite it all, the corruption, the greed, the inhumanity, there is still ironically- hope.
Everyday, there''s a new generation of thinking minds, exposed to the outer world who slowly but surely suggest new ideas to the table, ember by ember.
Even those who are caught in the web of corruption, there are still the few who trudge past the roadblocks, the corrupted ones, the backwards ideals, the stubborn and sickly geezers who hold everything back from changing, and eventually, the few manage to contribute a bit to the march. The Principal, of all people, has always been a rebel, and only acts professional for the sake of his job. If it weren''t for his job, he''d be an outlaw destroying countries for the hell of it. But the reason he''s still in office? To bring a new order to the outdated system. Seeing as how he''s one of the most powerful sorcerers in the world, on top of being the Principal of the place where children are indoctrinated, he''s in a stalemate against the other heads of the sorcerer world. But if it weren''t for him, we''d be executed for even talking about the corruption in the first place. Though he may laugh at our face for our naivety, he''s one of the few who gave the new ideas a chance. From his sun, came Naota, and from Naota, comes me.
He acts like a big brother so as to teach me the ways of the world instead of being another mindless indoctrinated soldier. And though the world may be cruel, and changing the world may ultimately seem pointless, it is from the older generation''s torch that we must learn to light the way for the new generation. To light the way for the blind, and to make way for a better, brighter future. Burn down the old; light the path anew.
And that made me think.
If the Principal died.
And if Naota died.
Who would carry the torch...?
And through reflection, maybe calling it quits would be a worse fate than death. If anything, I, along with the rest of the students could be the change that this world needs.
And even if I die, at least I can say I tried.
...
hm.
Cool feeling.
For once,
I guess I can say I''m feeling pretty motivated.
.
.
.
:)
Introduction Chapter: Makoto Yatagarasu
8:54 PM
A 5''7" teenager had just crawled into her bed wearing her iconic tiger pajamies.
After a hard day of shooting bubbles, pestering her friends, and doing math problems, she didn''t find it necessary to stay up late so she decided to go to bed.
8:55 PM
A tall, handsome, slender man in his mid 20s wearing a Hawaiian shirt and pitch black aviators practically stapled onto his face barged through the student''s door.
"I''m hungry.
I''m here.
This counts as our ''meeting time''
Let''s go get dinner."
"..."
The student looked at her watch as she contemplated.
Knowing that she''ll be denied a normal night of rest, she relinquished.
"Fine."
She put on some dark jeans, a white tank top, and a crop jacket, all on top of her onesie of course because, fuck if its cold. Soon after, they left.
Half an hour later, they were at a nearby city strolling through the night. It was perfect weather for a summer night. The heat was warm but clashed well with the slight breeze; peak sweater weather. It wasn''t too humid, so there was no gross feeling. There were no clouds, letting the starry sky show itself in its indigo glory. The mood just felt right.
"You know, upon recent meditation, I think you''ve really grown up to be a capable woman" started Taberu, the adult of the two.
"EWWWWW- after all these years, you''re actually hitting on me?" replied Makoto with a disgusted squint.
"Bitch- in your dreams" replied Taberu as he smacked his student upside the head.
"I phrased that wrong," he continued.
"But, let me explain it to you this way. I''m assuming you already know how the sponsorship program works by now right? A few students who get handpicked by a couple staff members get trained by them on a personal level for one reason or another. Whether its because the sponsor sees something special in a student so they take them under their wing, or its situations like us where I picked you because you suck and you needed a lot of help and-"
"DUDE-" blurted out Makoto whilst snickering.
"kidding- but you get the gist right?"
"...yeah...?" replied Makoto in a confused tone since... she already knew this.
"Well, I''ve been thinking lately. I really do think we struck gold. I''m not like Naota who has to babysit his student everyday, and I''m not like that creep Mishima who only visits Akemi like once a month, probably for like... 5 minutes and then fucks off to the abyss known as his office until next time. I mean look, we have a good schedule-"
"Totally" she replied whilst rolling her eyes.
"You pick up on the lessons quickly, I teach you the bare basics and let you learn for yourself for the most part, bada-bing-bada-boom, you''re a straight A student. Speaking of which, how did you do on that recent exam?"
"You already know the answer to that."
"Aced it?"
"Yup."
"Without trying?"
"When would I try?"
"That''s what I like to hear"
They both initiated a firm masculine handshake ala Hulk Hogan and Macho Man, gritting their teeth in cartoony fashion.
.
.
.
They eventually wandered off to one of those cramped streetside noodle shops as a celebration. Taberu knew that they had to go to those comfy vendors, the ones where the space could only fit four people (including the cook). Those were always the best in terms of vibe and taste.
"This place is great-" started Taberu as they sat down.
"This guy here is Mr. Iwata. I trust this man with my life more than I do with anyone at school... er, anyone really. Say hi you two."
"Good evening, miss." bowed the saintly chef.
"Sup." replied Makoto
"Since its your first time, I''ll order for you" cut Taberu in.
Makoto didn''t flinch since she''s practically used to it.
"Aight"
"She''ll have the Seafood Udon and I''ll have the North Star Ramen."
"Understood sir." replied Mr. Iwata
"By the way Makoto, would you like some beer with your Udon?" asked Taberu nonchalantly.
"Nah; alcohol''s for pussies"
"Nice! You passed the-"
Taberu realized what she just said
"test."
"I''ll take coke please."
"But of course," responded the chef.
The teacher turned to Makoto.
"By any chance, after all these years in the academy and you knowing that there''s spirits and such roaming around, would you consider yourself religious?"
Makoto paused for a sec then answered.
"I think I could get why you would think that but in all honesty, not really. Yeah knowing that all these gods exist is pretty damn terrifying but in all honesty, having my life bound by these fears and spirits is too... fucked. So instead of worrying all my life about the consequences of worshiping the ''right religion'' and fearing it all, I personally just stick to the real world. I''ve only got one life after all so why spend it bitching and moaning, ya know?"
"Hm.
I uh..."
Taberu pondered for a sec before finally answering.
"I feel like I had a bouncing point but uh... yeah no, I know what you''re saying and I completely agree. That''s kinda that."
"I will say, however," continued Makoto.
"Having a balance between religion and a normal life is perfectly fine and probably the best way to go about things. If a person isn''t bound by religion and to an extent- morality- that''s how creeps and bad guys start popping up. On top of that, I think its good to sense that sort of ''spiritual side of ones self. Its normal for us, but for the typical everyday citizen, I would think its a bit of that soul searching phase everyone goes through, ya know?
On the other hand, if you''re too into religion, I''m sorry but- you''re just a freak!" snorted Makoto as she laughed.
"There should be a balance to everything. Extremism is never cool and yeah that''s common sense and you''d think people already knew that but- damn; humanity just seems to get stupider and stupider the more you give it the benefit of the doubt."
Taberu chuckled before responding.
"I completely get what you''re saying, trust me, I do. But,
I think your opinion is really fucking stupid and I disrespectfully disagree."
??
"...
okay, go off I guess" responded Makoto.
"Now here''s the thing:
People worry too much about the religious aspects and the morality! But more often than not,
A. they end up being hypocrites, knowingly or unknowingly
B. It''s like you said, these people get bound by their own virtues, cultures, and mindsets that they end up devolving into mentally stunted idiots. They have their own heads up their asses! Its stupid!, it''s- thank you" he cut off as he and Makoto received their food.
"-And it''s all so silly. All of it. So I stopped giving a fuck, and that''s why I suggest you should too. In life, the only person that matters is yourself. Sure you can have friends, but they always come and go; backstab or pass away."
He takes a large swig out of his beer.
"And I''m not trying to sound like a sappy bitch, no- not at all, that''s just how it is, its- its the truth; it sucks and its harsh and you just gotta take it up the ass and live with it. And I think you already knew that but... hang on, I think I feel the buzz already... sorry- anyway, but really, worrying about other people is just juvenile. Everyone has problems, nobody is special, and that''s not a bad thing, its just... grow the fuck up. Stop being a pussy. It''s really that simple. Everyone has their responsibility to take care of themselves."
Makoto briefly interrupted.
"But what about those in need like the disabled."
Taberu scratched his head.
"In today''s society, that''s the exception. And granted, it sucks to suck and being born like that is bad luck of the draw but that''s why I suggest we just end their misery and kill them all" he shrugged.
Makoto almost spat out her drink as she had to do a visible double take.
"I''m kidding" he responded with a teasing tongue.
"Ah, okay."
"-forthemostpart" he said under his breath.
Makoto rolled her eyes.
"And like you said, we only have one chance in life.
I''d rather do the shit I want to do before I pass away. All this talk about an afterlife just doesn''t interest me. Worrying about Heaven or Hell is just so petty. As long as I''m happy with my life, I won''t come back as a spirit and that''s kind of the end of that."
Makoto propped up.
"But like I said earlier, taking your way only enables the cruelty of the world. I know its impossible to have a peaceful world and whatever but, I don''t know, thinking about it that way just kinda leaves a sour taste-"
"Just don''t get caught."
Makoto glanced at her mentor.
He shrugged and smiled as those cold sunglasses reflected her dumbfound expression.
"Don''t get caught!
Either hide your tracks or just join a powerful organization. That, or pay the price and try to survive. Simple as."
Makoto furrowed her brow.
"But what if let''s say, you get caught doing something despicable."
"I have authority. Depending on what I did, I''ll either get a slap on the wrist or defend myself to varying degrees."
They both stood quiet.
Taberu continued.
"Aw c''mon don''t gimme that look- you think every figure of authority is free of corruption? It''s their job to uphold the care for their people, and it''s their life to do whatever they please- moral or not. You think its easy to just separate both?"
"Yes.
Just don''t be a piece of shit. I know I may sound na?ve and it''s a lot easier said than done, I know that. But is it really that hard for those in power to not be corrupt creeps and keep their ''preferences'' in their pants? Shit dude. Are the vices of hurting others and favoring exploitation really that strong, and worth it? I know I sound like I''m a paragon of virtue- and I''m not- I''m the farthest thing from it! But its just- dont be a piece of shit. It really is that simple." she continued.
Taberu scoffed.
"Easy for you to say. Once you have that power, try to keep that same mentality. Were only human after all.
But whatever. To each their own.
However I will say this as a fair warning: don''t lose yourself."
Makoto visibly cringed.
"Ugh, and I thought I was cringy with that whole schpeel..."
"I''m serious. Especially in this field. They''ll use you, wrangle you up and do their dirty work. I know you know this but, it''s a lot harder for you kids since you''re born into this and they have a chained leash on you. I promised myself that the only act of selflessness I will ever do is willingly continue this job. Otherwise, I would''ve disappeared a loooong time ago.
But don''t worry about it too hard. Just a heads up, ya know?"
"Yeah, yeah." Makoto smiled as she waved it off.
"Alright well, I''m finished here. And thanks for the food too."
Taberu gave a confused look.
"I only recommended the food...? Why are you thanking me you''re weirding me out."
"Wha- dude, you''re the one who invited me over. I thought you would handle the bill."
"Shiet, you have your own money right?"
"...Yeah..."
He looked around in a confused manner at an imaginary audience to see if they could see the problem.
"So what''s the issue????"
"Well... since I thought you were paying I didn''t bring my wallet..."
Taberu leaned over and gave a grossed out furrowed expression.
"I''ll pay, but when I come back you''ll pay for my dish as well."
"Dude- what? That''s bullshit"
"Yeah well, maybe it''ll teach you to not forget your wallet next time."
She groaned.
"Fine...Wait are you coming back to the school or-"
"Nah I''m gonna find a club to get hammered. I''ll see you tomorrow... or not."
"Alright well, see ya."
"G''night" he shouted, waving behind himself without looking.
Alone, she wandered off into the abyss; the edge of the cityscape where danger arose.
Not only for the hooligans hanging around at night, but for the undetected presence of spirits as well...
.
.
.
"Man... its so damn cold tonight" thought Makoto to herself, shivering as she walked by the lake.
Little did she know, she had eyes staring at her this entire time.
Noticing this faint scent and feeling the presence of another, she turned to the right and stared into an alley.
"ugh..."
Making a finger gun towards that direction. She sighed to herself.
"Show yourself creep. 3 seconds to respond or else you''ll be deather than dithco. I mean deader than disco* (bit my tongue)."
Out of nowhere, a pale, gray figure wearing late 90s club apparel manifested out of thin air, leaning with one hand on a wall while the other rested on their hip like the bad bitch they are. Er, were. Nae, are.
"Hi there."
A remnant psyche appeared!
Makoto lowered her finger
"Ah, just a remnant psyche. Cool."
"You need something?" asked the ghost.
"Nah. I just felt a presence. Seeing as how its the dead of night and I''m a girl, you can kinda connect the dots."
"Figures."
"Say uh... what are ya... what are ya doing here?"
"Chilling. Looking at the beautiful lake reflecting the gaze of the moon.
You?"
"Going back to my headquarters. My bitch ass teacher stood back to get wasted so I''m all out here by myself...
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation....
Say, you don''t need to answer if you don''t want to, nor does it have to be a long answer but uh... wouldn''t you want to like... go to the other side?"
The ghost chuckled under their breath before responding.
"Nah man. Even after death, my life is out here. Can never get tired of it. Even after 40 years of fishing, this lake will always be spectacular. Caught my first fish out there. Rode my first boat out here. Made love for the first time out here. I''m still enjoying the view."
"Huh... gotcha..."
They both stood quiet. The cold gust only cemented the feeling. Spending a brief moment with a stranger that showed no malice. Even if she couldn''t find the nostalgia of the scenery, the figure radiated their contagious sentiments. And it felt nice.
The ghost started.
"Say, since you can see me, and I sensed you were able to use sorcery earlier, you''re not gonna kill me, are you?"
Makoto waved it off.
"Nah man, I''m not so uptight about that like the others. And it doesn''t seem like you bear any ill will so for the most part, you can do whatever you please."
"Cool.
Can I ask you a simple favor?"
"Uh- sure"
"Can you leave now? You''re blocking my view."
"??
ok."
"Oh and one last thing-
I overheard some creep talking to himself about killing a woman near this area. For all I know, it could be any dumb bitch that''s stupid enough to walk alone in the middle of the night but hey, just thought I should let you know."
"Ah....
ah....
Well, thank you. Have a goodnight."
"Don''t tell me what to do"
"Dude ??"
Makoto walked away, sighing and rolling her eyes, acknowledging the fact that there''s a high chance she''s going to fight someone tonight.
"Goddamnit..."
.
.
.
Not too far away, atop an old, grease covered building rooftop, a shaggy 5''7" cheeto dust covered creep holding binoculars, stared intently at his target. The leftover wisps of hair on his head flaunted in the cold breeze. Despite him being far from homeless, his fashion still consisted of grimy overalls, worn boots, fingerless gloves, and a crusty jacket.
"3 million yen... for this?
Easiest money I''ve made all month." he snickered to himself.
"Welp-" he grunted as he held his suppressed hunting rifle in one hand, readying his position while imbuing his bullet with his ability.
"As they say..." he continued, loading the bullet in its chamber; finally set in his position and aiming his sights straight towards the back of Makoto''s heart.
"Goodnight girl~"
TWUMPFF- hissed the rifle.
PANG
A distant explosion erupted upon Makoto''s back.
-only for her to be unscathed.
At that time, both the predator and the prey thought the same thing:
"(What the fuck?)"
Makoto jetted towards an empty factory near the docks.
Meanwhile, the sniper questioned himself as he frantically lowered his rifle and got ready to chase after Makoto.
HOW??? he muttered.
In the past 13 years Ive never missed a shot not only that, but why did it explode? Theres no way I charged the bullet so hard it exploded, otherwise the gun wouldve discharged in my face DAMN. And now the bitCH IS RUNNING AWAY!
He gritted his teeth and holstered his revolver.
Guess Im gonna have to go chase after her he muttered.
The rooftop crumbled. His leg muscles tightened. He breathed in.
Then out.
Fine by me-
In just 4 leaps, he managed to hop from rooftop to rooftop, eventually crashing down in front of the factorys entrance in a matter of seconds.
There, they both stood face to face, glaring at each other.
Makoto stood near the center of the factory. She wore a stern, tight lipped expression on her face. She wiped the sweat off her forehead.
The assasssin walked in, sporting a smug grin, sucking his left hand''s fingers while the right hand unholstered his revolver.
As he walked in, he felt the air change.
"(...Is it humid here? Is it because of the water? Is that how that works?... Eh, who cares)" he thought to himself.
He started off
"So.
Here we are.
You already know how it is and how it''s going to go down. But since you managed to survive a bullet or... whatever that was, I''ll allow you to spit your last words."
Makoto had a hard time keeping her composure before blurting out.
"I was going to say something cool but... fuck you''re not easy on the eyes dude."
"Heheheh... yeah su-"
The guy did a double take
"...what?"
Makoto inevitably couldn''t hold it in and blurted out a snicker.
"I can''t it''s just-....WOW"
The assassin looked even more confused.
"What? What is it? Do I have something on my face?"
"Typically in these scenarios, someone like me would be stalling or some shit but uh... fuck even I can''t concentrate, like... dude you should just shave off your hair. Those little greasy tufts of hair just make you look sad!"
His eye twitched.
"It''s not sad. I look perfectly fine and-"
"PFWAHHJAHHAHAHAHAHAHA"
The assassin pointed his revolver at Makoto.
Yet his aim quivered.
"S-stop it.
Stop laughing-"
Makoto proceeded to laugh harder.
"I said stop laughing AT ME"
She in turn, laughed even harder.
He huffed and hissed for a good moment before he forcibly calmed himself. He breathed in, then out.
"Alright-" he said aloud.
"How about this!" he continued with a smile.
"Let''s make a proposition. We''ll do this one on one, hand to hand combat. Easy enough right?"
He proceeded to empty all the bullets out of the revolver''s chamber and dropped the gun completely.
"Whadya say?"
Makoto snickered, and assumed a fighting stance.
"Alright, sure-"
As she agreed, the hunter blitzed past and hammered his fist right into her stomach. Her body ragdolled and rolled about 15 feet outwards, gagging hard as a liter of saliva expelled out of her mouth. As she attempted to get up, the guy quickly followed up and soccer kicked her right in the ribs.
"HOW''S THAT FOR PATHETIC HUH? DIDN''T EXPECT TO GET MOGGED BY A GIGACHAD OR SO CALLED ''UGLY MAAAAAAAAAN'' HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH????"
He frothed at the mouth as each kick progressively got harder and harder. After thirty seconds of molly whopping strikes to the ribs, he proceeded to speak in a tangent.
"I''m assuming you''re a sorcerer considering you''re not dead yet, and the fact that someone hired me specifically to kill you. I''m also assuming you''re aware of trade-offs, contracts, and sacrifices right? So by sacrificing the secret of my technique, it thus makes it stronger because... magic. The gods are avid gamblers, entertained by the sacrifices we give. Knowledge, flesh, it all feeds this twisted system. I wonder how much you sacrificed today, only for none of it to work in your favor."
He quit kicking and grabbed Makoto by the hair as he barked in her ear.
"You see, the harder I concentrate, the more powerful my magic gets- as anyone does. I was specifically born with the talent of making things hotter. The more I concentrate on smaller surface areas, the hotter it results. I could make this entire factory melt, but that would take a good 15 minutes and well- its not like you''re going to stand still, so I often imbue it into smaller things. Like earlier, I imbued it into the tip of the bullet. Only the tip, since if I did it in the body of the bullet, it would explode. Also, as it passes through the target, not only does it have an easier time to pass through (in the off chance they''re wearing armor or they''re indoors), but it also cauterizes the wound....Wait does that hurt or help them more?...Either way, it passes through easier, and its easy fuckin money. Or in this case, I''m imbuing my limbs in that special energy, causing each strike and mark to reeeeeaaaaally bruise deep and burn you, causing more harm to occur and-"
Makoto, despite being a rather top tier student, is a specialist.
Instead of balancing between Ki, PsychoPower and Sorcery, she mainly utilizes sorcery. This was mainly taught by her teacher Taberu with the logic of "instead of worrying about the other two, why not just overwhelm them with magic? And play from a distance? Duh???" (dramatized)
That being said, despite her Ki not being as strong as other students, it is mandatory by the school''s curriculum to practice all three of these arts no matter what.
Even with her Ki not being the best, she is still leagues above the strongest of athletes all over the world.
Ki is control over the physical body; this in turn enables the physical limitations to become child''s play.
From her stooped down state, Makoto''s left hand reached towards the hunter''s crotch.
Utilizing Ki, for a split second, she commanded all of her body''s muscles and physical power to shift and be concentrated towards her left hand.
She interrupted him.
"Heat generation.
Just say-
Heat generation."
She squeezed.
An ear piercing shriek echoed all throughout the factory. A scream so guttural his throat began to bleed. The wind carried the excruciate sound of pain, all throughout the nearby city. For a short moment, the people walking through the city heard the noise of a banshee.
Makoto shot up and headbutted the man square in the nose, as he tumbled down with tears gushing out of his eyes and drops of blood coming out of his facial orifices.
In his panicked state, he tried to lunge outwards and tackle Makoto. As he did, Makoto proceeded to jump to the left, bounce midair as if there were an invisible wall or shelf that she used as a platform, and twisted her core, delivering a meaty roundhouse kick to the guy''s temple.
The exaggerated force twisted the guy so hard, if it weren''t for his own ki, his head would''ve twisted off from the kick itself.
Desperate, the hunter pointed at Makoto. The effects were instant. As she landed, she started sweating. Sure, pulling off those moves would naturally make anyone sweat, but seeing as these students are built to study and train for a majority of the day, such a move would be easy as breathing.
By the second, her sweating got worse.
He grunted and drool with a pissed off ugly grin. Seeing Makoto fester distracted him from the pain of being childless.
"GYEHEHEH- how do you FEEL HUH?" he cackled.
As if all at once, the symptoms hit: a pulsating, head splitting migraine, an intense need to vomit, aches all over her body, muscle fatigue that made her otherworldly physique morph into a slog of shit. All of these symptoms could conclude to one thing:
"(Motherfucker- A FEVER!)" she thought to herself.
"ANY MOVE YOU MAKE IS GOING TO BE A LIVING HELL, YOU UNDERSTAND THAT YOU BITCH?" he yelled through seething pain.
Her muscles spasmed to the point of malfunction.
Shaking violently she knew it was coming.
Fevers are typically on the lower scale of illnesses. Cancer, AIDS, even smaller scale viruses like the flu are immensely worse compared to a dinky ass fever.
However, there is one specific symptom that is extremely rare, and more prevalent in children, though it may still happen to adults:
Febrile seizures.
Any sudden spike of temperature within a human not only causes fever, but enables the act of a seizure.
There are two outcomes to this fight.
Either she succumbs to a seizure, and dies on the spot.
Or the guy can beat her mercilessly as her body becomes too weak to do anything.
She took the third option.
Practically yelling at her ki to MOVE HER ASS, she commanded her body to limp over towards the guy. Resisting, the guy contemplated on whether or not to disrupt his heat wave and backpedal, or keep on microwaving her. He did the latter.
Each step carrying the weight of a train behind her, and nearing the brink of seeing that epileptic apocalyptical vision of demise, the zombie finally lifted her 2000 pound arms and latched onto the hunter.
She then proceeded to vomit all over him.
"Ouh-
OOOOOuuuAAAHHHGGG
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaa
ah- aaaAAHHHHAaaaa
DUH-
DUDE
WHAT THE- HHAGGKKK-" yelled the assassin, right before having his throat hit by Makoto''s elbow.
In desperate rage, he latched onto Makoto''s head and transmitted the maximum amount of heat possible directly towards her brain.
"YOU DAMN LITTLE FUCK" he grunted through gritted teeth.
Three seconds afterwards, that same tiny explosion from earlier occurred between the two.
The flesh of his hands were mangled, as were the bones that were sticking out of his now retired hands. The weakened Makoto spartan kicked him down before staring him right in the eyes. This last act was used to distract the hunter. Him freaking out over the vomit made it so that the increase in temperature stopped. With quick thinking, she utilized internal ice magic to cool her body at a heightened speed. It wouldn''t be enough to cure her, however, every second of his distraction would increase the odds of survival and victory.
Through her weakened muscles, she managed to say one last thing before clapping her hands together.
This entire time, she was handicapping herself. This entire time, she was using her main ability in the background, and was forced to confront the enemy in her weakest area of expertise. She may have used her Ice magic for a fraction of the fight, but that was not her main ability. This entire time, she was utilizing the abandoned factory as a canvas, and used all of the air in its space to its maximum potential. Ever since she entered the building, she was building up pressure in the background, prolonging the fight so as to form a "bubble". She paused the bubble whenever she needed to desperately use her ability- whether to shield herself from the brain melting, or to make an air construct to bounce off of.
In the end, it resulted in a giant factory sized balloon.
She clapped her hands.
She smiled.
"Get fucked."
And the balloon popped.
The weight of hundreds of elephants blasted all around Yatagarasu, crushing and shredding everything in sight. Instantly blowing out the walls and the roof of the entire factory, all the debris scattered. The explosion was so loud, it made several cars within the city emit their emergency alarm function. Civilians were frightened and panicked briefly over such a loud noise popping out of nowhere. Two car accidents occurred from the scare of such an event. Was it a bomb? An accident down by the harbor? What was it? As police started entering their vehicles, they wouldn''t be able to explain what would happen once they eventually got there later. All that remained was dust... and a red blotch.
Thus, is the power of pressure manipulation.
.
.
.
Before the police arrived however, a small scene occurred.
By some sheer fucking blessing (or curse, however one wants to interpret it), the assassin was still alive.
His hopes weren''t up, however; all of his limbs were bent and twisted with bones turned into dust and only ribbons of flesh left. For a better picture, his arms and legs looked like completely used up rolls of toothpaste. His face (or whatever remained) was unrecognizable. There''s barely any skin or flesh left. The front of his body was flayed off, exposing all his ribs and organs.
And yet-
He was still breathing.
Unaffected by the chaos, Makoto healed herself to a manageable degree, taking her sweet time since healing magic is pretty hard, even for her. Once finished, she sensed he was still alive.
"Christ, are you serious?" she scoffed to herself.
"Well, whatever, I''ll have my fun with this one" she said as she dusted herself off.
She sauntered over to her victim.
With a cocky smirk, she looked down upon the barely living husk.
"Hey~
Still alive, huh?"
Silence.
She continued.
"Hm.
Alright, well I''ll give you your last rites."
She charged up her fist with an incredible amount of pressure. A menacing bubble that mirrored her ferocious mood made itself clear.
"So-
ANY LAST WORDS???" she taunted.
The only thing that came out of the living corpse''s mouth was the faint and hollow breathing that any dying animal would whimper out. A grotesque yet quiet rasping wheeze.
"Hm. Thought as much.
Welp."
Her left hand grasped the hunted''s neck; the right did the rest of the talking.
BUH BYE
With the weight of a truck behind that punch, the assassin''s life was finally left to rest... in piece.
"...
that works... right? Pieces? Piece? Eh yeah- yeah? Yeaaahhhhh."
She took a deep breath in...
And felt another presence.
"You motherfucker...
It was you wasn''t it.
You hired him to take me down."
Taberu emerged from an alley, holding a grocery bag. He clapped.
"Yup!"
Makoto scoffed.
"You''re a god damn sociopath"
Taberu shrugged with a nonchalant neutral face.
"Yeah."
He continued.
"-buuuuut- hey, at least I knew you would win. Without a doubt!"
"So were you just watching the fight the entire time? Did you even go to a bar afterwards?"
"Oh yeah I totally did. Not sure if you can tell but I''m a bit buzzed right now. That being said, unfortunately I didn''t get to see your fight. It wasn''t until that obnoxious explosion occurred where I said to myself ''alright I should probably check on her''. But alas, you proved me right. You completed your test and that''s kinda that."
Makoto held a sour expression.
Taberu walked over to her.
"Come on now. I know its a bit of a shitty thing to do, but you know me. I only expect the best from you, and I know my ways are a little... unorthodox, but you gotta shock the body ya know? Do you wanna get left behind like those other schmucks?"
"...Not... really" she replied
"-Also, I''m over here."
Taberu heard her voice and relocated
"Sorry, you know my condition.
But again, I think you agree with me right. It''s like you told me once before, who are you doing this for again?"
"....myself" she replied.
"Exactly.
Now, for the third time, I know it''s a shitty thing to do, but you forgive me right?"
She made a semi wry face.
"I am mad at you but not as mad as I should be.
Hiring an assassin on your student is pretty low but honestly, as long as I win, and I tried out a tactic I''ve been meaning to use for a while, I guess its not the worst thing in the world."
"There ya go!-"
"I''m still pissed but again, not as much as I should be. You''re going to have to compensate for this miserable fever I have right now."
"Alright alright."
They started walking towards the academy.
"How about this: Instead of paying for my meal completely, you only have to pay for half of it."
"Wha- dude no!"
"Quarter of it."
"None of it and you pay for both."
"Well then how are you going to learn to pay for yourself?"
"I think you''re really downplaying the fact that you almost got me killed."
"Oh come on, A. You won, and B. He was some low tier shitter from those sketchy ass websites."
"Like on the dark web?"
"You''d think that but no, it''s one of those schizo websites where its located in the backlogs of the search engine, and even then, 90% of the people who claim to be ''real sorcerers'' are sad losers or genuine schizophrenics."
"So how did you know that he was a real assassin?"
"I didn''t."
"Ah....
....
Wait- what?"
"Yeah, just bad luck in general. I saw he had 5 stars on his repertoire and I was like ''alright yeah sure seems convincing lol. In all honesty I was expecting him to be some fraud who you''d be able to smack with no difficulty but turns out... he was an actual sorcerer the entire time! What are the odds, huh?"
....
"You''re a dumbass." she said as she did that walking ass kick to the side ala Dumb and Dumber.
To most, this was a toxic mentor-student relationship.
To the initiated, it was called tough love.
To them, it was just another Friday.
Introduction Chapter: Akemi Kishimoto
[3 years ago]
July 16th
Sweat drizzles from my forehead after doing 3 sets of one hundred hand-stand pushups. My body may now rest, my spirit is in peace, and my mind is glad that homework and training is now finished.
"Phew! Glad that''s over with..." I say to myself in sweet relief.
I look at the clock that hangs on my wall.
"8:42"
"..."
"Shit"
I sprint out of my dorm and look for Naota throughout the Academy.
I check the few classrooms that are scattered throughout the school. I don''t know why Naota would ever be in a classroom this late but he''s practically Naoki''s older brother, so if Naoki isn''t just born stupid then he most likely got his ''isms from Naota of all people. Check them all. No avail.
I run inside every bathroom, every stall, occupied or not, male or not I look for him. Yet to no avail.
I look through the dorms, through the hallways, through the faculty meeting rooms and offices
And to no avail.
Until-
there he is.
"...?"
Naota gives a confused look at me, just as he finishes brewing his tea in the kitchen.
"You okay?" he asks
After catching my breathe I ask him in a polite tone:"CAN-I-GO-OUT-TONIGHT-I-FINISHED-MY-HOMEWORK-AND-TRAINING-AND-ITS-NOT-9-PM-YET-AND-THERES-A-DANCE-DANCE-REVOLUTION-TOURNAMENT-AND-ITS-THE-ONE-DAY-A-WEEK-I-GET-TO-GO-OUT-TO-THE-OUTSIDE-WORLD-MAY-I-PLEASE-GO-SIR." And of course, end it with an acute 75 degree bow.
Naota gives me a concerned stare. His furrowed brow only meant to signify his heightened sense of confusion.
"I hate to repeat myself but
Are you okay?"
"May I go out?" I ask once again.
"Yes."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"I already said yes; stop looking at me like that."
I finally respond.
"Thank you sir. I shall be back momentarily"
"Just make sure to come back before midnight" he demands.
"Understood."
I bow once more.
"In the name of the Rising Sun."
He continues giving me that odd stare.
"You''re not going on a mission, you don''t have to do that."
"I understand. It''s a force of habit."
Naota pauses and gives a somber sigh.
"I know."
He immediately goes back to his normal mood, cooling down his tea.
"Well, see you then. Have fun."
"Will do!"
I quickly sprint to my dorm, change into my civilian clothes, grab my bag, stuff my uniform as well as the three masks into it, and finally head out of the Academy.
.
.
.
I immediately sprint out of the Academy''s barrier and jog for 24 minutes until I reach the center part of Kyoto. I still have some time so I continue to walk around.
It is amazing really. The culture of Kyoto and how it has stuck to its roots for hundreds of years- some would even argue a thousand years. There is beauty in it. A country is defined by its roots, then evolves as the world around it affects it. Yes... that''s it. Evolution. Change. Rebirth. Our country is the poster girl for such a concept. Even with the few times we have faltered, we grew up stronger than before, without losing our identity. Some might say this skewed cultural scenery is unpleasant; schizophrenic even. The wooden machiyas clashing with the concrete city; shoji doors mixing with neon lights? Never. No; nononono, no. Mr. Mishima has told me that though it hurts to see our country change, it is only necessary. But I don''t agree with that sentiment. How is having both bad? Our country may be modern, but modern Japan is not modern America. Modern Tokyo will never be Modern London. Change and influence doesn''t necessarily mean loss of identity. If losing our identity is the equivalent of change, then Japan would not be the same after the Meiji period. That being said, he doesn''t like it when I mention the restoration. In the end, sticking to the roots of a country is a beautiful thing but, to me personally, I find beauty in neon, as well as in the gardens. That is just me though.
Eventually, I walk past the downtown district and into the actual city part of Kyoto. There I see it, the small arcade venue near all the street side shops. The blacklights fill the ambience to a comfortable degree. I see some of the regulars around here, hopefully they don''t notice me or else I''ll have to wipe some memories tonight. And I''m really not in the mood at the moment to-
Oh shit.
Oh shit.
It''s him.
The Prancer of Osaka.
The Champion of Breakdancing.
The one to contest Shiva in rhythm.
"Sqlooge"
I audibly gulp.
Of course if I use Ki to enhance my physicality, I could blow out the competition with ease. But a grimy feeling fills my stomach every time that thought comes into mind. Of course, someone like Naoki would give up his pride and show everyone off with comical ease, no matter how obnoxious and suspicious it would be. Nevermind the fact that he would get caught instantly, the last thing I want to become is an avatar of idiocy like him. But deep down, that''s just an excuse I tell myself. A feeling of want that these people have. A commodity that they don''t even know they have, yet a much more preferable existence to people such as me.
Eugh. No time to get sentimental. Fucking Sqlooge is here.
And though I may enhance my being with Ki to win this competition,
He is the only one who might win no matter if I amp myself up or not.
Focus- Focus.
I take a deep breath.
Calm down and breathe. I shall reach the true essence of my being by being calm. That is the key to victory, Akemi.
"Dude, are you okay?" asked another tournament goer.
"Ah!- yes I''m fine. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, you looked like you were having a stroke, so I was just making sure you were alright."
I try to give an expression that wasnt so irked. I force a smile, though my eyes say it all.
"Yes. I''m fine"
Keyword: try.
.
.
.
The tournament went on, everything was normal. Clearly, it was some people''s first time competing. Even though they got mid level ranks, they at least look like they''re having a good time. Most of the other people who are competing here are giving their usual performances; great, but still manageable.
"Up next, give it up for a national champion, Sqlooooooooooooooooge!"
NATIONAL?
WHAT THE FUCK? WHEN WAS THAT CONFIRMED?
The crowd cheers. Hell, even I reluctantly cheer. For no matter how hard I want to win, there is a very important concept that every Japanese citizen must adhere to in our modern society: respect. And an even uglier social concept is at play in this very room- nae, this entire country. If you stick out, you will be hammered down. No matter if I mean it or not, I still have to clap.
"Hey guys, how ya doin! I came up with a new dance routine on the way here. I can''t wait for you all to witness it!" exclaims Sqlooge in an excited tone.
"Psh, surely he can''t get even better from his regular performance" I thought to myself.
A blend between 90''s style Brooklyn inspired boldness skewed with the Japanese mentality of swift execution. Bouncing between using the bar handle and openly breakdancing in such a cramped space, how- HOW, AM I GOING TO TOP THIS? An eastern and western dichotomy that''s performed with such bravado, such clever executions such... such- YOU CAN''T DO THAT! HOW IS HE DOING THAT? NO SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK THAT''S NOT ALLOWED, THERE''S NO WAY! Oh no.... OH NO, HE''S GOING FOR IT. HE''S FINISHING IT OFF-
WITH THE YOINKY SPLOINKY.
I am fucked.
The main commentator stands on the stage.
"What a great performance! It''s going to be hard to top that one off!"
SHUT UP DON''T ENCOURAGE THE FEAR!
"Up next, Hirohiko Tsunada!"
I walk up the stage quivering in my boots. The sweat from trying to top something so divine is drenching my entire attire. My hands tremble and quake more than a patient with Parkinson''s. The dread.
The dread.
An ax looms over my head. The fear of failure has never been so prevalent. Their eyes, stabbing me with their javelin gazes. Their silent judgment chipping away at my composure. Why is it that despite having less than a 4% chance of ever seeing these strangers in my life ever again- Why do I care so much?
I''ve battled spiritual beings; creatures that these normal humans couldn''t fathom comprehending of fighting, or even witnessing and yet-
This is the most terrifying moment of my life.
"Tsunada are you alright?" asks the host helping me walk up the stage.
"Y-y-yeahh"
Quick, I just have to save myself!
"I just...I just have to... use the restroom"
I hobble over to the restroom with my thin paper legs while my sandbag of a torso guides me with all this artificial weight. I break into a stall and kneel over a toilet. I do what comes naturally.
Gagging, retching, the revolting thought of rejection as well as the unkempt smell of disappointment mixes rather unnaturally with this decently clean restroom. An alien feeling that overwhelms me with its newly birthed presence. After being unnoticed for weeks, traversing through the outside society at parks and at grocery stores, how is it that when they notice me, I feel so weak?
Sickening, Sickening, Sickening.
What is with this foreign guilt; these regrets and urges that I failed to take up on life. Now that I''m dead it''s all for naught, and consumed by my ire and rage, my vile form shall wreak havoc and-
Wait a second
Wait a second
Those last ones weren''t my thoughts
"What the fuck."
I sniff the air.
That''s it.
That stench.
The stench of a day old rotting corpse, infested with wriggling tiny maggots. A day old ''steak'' with a three pound fresh dead rat substituted as the meat- its unkempt hair and everything still intact. An ill noise that made forks scraping ceramic dishes. The sentiment of a greasy, naked stranger rubbing up against me. The taste of roadkill pie filled the air, all with its bitter and revolting hairy and soppish texture softly embracing my tongue.
That taste. That sound. That feeling. That smell.
I don''t need to look at it to recognize what it is.
"There''s a spirit around."
No time to bitch around, Akemi.
Its time to serve your country.
I quickly change from my casual clothes into my uniform.
A slick, buttonless umbra dress shirt uniform as well as baggy military grade trousers, and slick silky gloves; all of which made it so that not even an atom of skin could be seen.
As for the most crucial detail of my appearance: the mask that shall aid me in my mission today.
I take out the three masks, and decide on a heavy gambit.
I discard the Black Mask.
Its burnt-like wooden texture and its most fowl expression sours my decision. The presence of this spirit doesn''t seem to warrant the heavy use of black magic and vile hellfire. Not only that, but this is the only mask the academy warned me about. "Only use it as a last resort, and make sure to ask us for permission before using it" is what Mr. Mishima told me. And besides, I don''t want any accidental casualties. From what I''ve heard of its personality, I''d rather avoid making the situation worse.
I grasp the Grey Mask.
Its stone visage is that of a classical hero in Chinese myth. Dependable, yes; best choice for the scenario is questionable however. A massive spike of Ki energy on top of blitzing the enemy could make this situation end in an instant. However, knowing his rambunctious personality, I doubt he would really take into consideration the safety of the citizens and the potential environmental damage. If things go south, I''ll have to switch masks, which would run the risk of an enemy catching me with my pants around my ankles.
I Switch masks and gaze into the White Mask.
Its porcelain face bears royal and divine Eastern insignia. Its proportions are awkward and big, being an Elephant''s head with hands that extend so as to grasp onto the user''s skull. A benevolent local deity in an Eastern country that specializes in mental applications and good will. With its psionic powers, I believe that it has the necessary powers to protect the people, as well as be enough firepower against the spirits.
After stuffing the other masks into the bag, I stuff the white mask into my pocket. I quickly hide the backpack into the cleanest trash bin and sneak out of the bathroom. Going out the back entrance of the venue, I sense a malicious presence that grew stronger and stronger. As it appears, the one strong scent of spirits was in actuality, multiple faint presences scattered around town. How could I not sense such malice? Was I really up my own ass that it muffled the detection? God...no matter. In order to take down the spirits, it''s best to take down the hypothetical source of them- just in case they spawned from a higher hivemind. And if I just concentrate on the location of a dense-
"CITIZENS OF KYOTO" announces a man holding A katana and wearing nothing but a fundoshi.
"For too long, we have become dogs to the western powers! Manipulated into depending on them for trade and commerce! Our sense of identity skewed with these American pigs!
BUT NO MORE!
But no more!
I''ll be the one responsible to turn the wheel!
The necessary evolution to bring us back to our glory days!
Death to the nonbelievers; to the bitches and the whores of society! The ones who kneel down to anyone but the emperor. Glory, glory, glory to the motherland!"
...
Found the source.
I take out the mask from my pocket.
I only gaze into its eyes for a brief moment, knowing that lives are on the line. Yet, its spiral gaze and hypnotic fragrance elongate the split second into a never-ending connection.
Its voice speaks to me, encouraging me to put it on, for it is the right thing to do. Yes, yes, I understand.
Nevermind my cowardly self when under the eyes of the public and self hatred for my inadequacy; now is not the time for self pity; lives are on the line.
As a child of the holy land, I shall protect my country and its citizens no matter what. Stranger or not, it is my duty to do so.
It was the way I was taught, and it is the correct way- nae, it is the ONLY WAY
Forbidden to fail, as a citizen of Japan. I shall guard this town with my life.
Not to do so would mean dishonor.
Path of the warrior, journey towards death.
Deified ideals; vengeful rites.
I put on the mask
In the name of the Rising Sun
In the warm embrace of the Benevolent god, we met eye to eye, body to body, soul to soul.
Xanadu, the beholder of good will and benevolent benefactor of knowledge guides me with their divine wisdom.
They gave me permission for their powers. I piloted the holy being. Sharing the same body, I inevitably carry the burden of experiencing a higher plane. Though my body is still the primary vehicle, taking a fraction of the load is still a lot to handle. My sensations are a lot more sensitive. I can clearly feel not only the locations of the spirits, but of all humans as well. And since Xanadu is primarily geared towards psychopower- I can feel what they''re feeling too. Broken bones. Clouds of rubble and dust. Panic. Ingested smoke. Seeing my girlfriend dislocate their ankle. Running away from the theater. Panic. My arm is broken- mY ARM IS BROKEN. OH GOD. My dog was just hit by a car speeding out of the PANIC. WHAT IS THAT. WHAT IS THAT? SAVE ME. SAVE ME GOD. GGGGHGHHGGHGKKGLGHGHGGGGGG----
WHO AM I?
SNAP OUT OF IT.
SNAP OUT OF IT.
??????????.
I HAVE TO SNAP-
Calm down...
Calm down...
I have to calm down...
I forgot...
The whiplash of these masks are a pain to bear. Luckily, since Xanadu''s psychopower is already so high, I can use that power to also dilute the voices of every person''s mind. Can''t keep this up. I have to save these people before shit gets worse. Using our psionic abilities, I teleported our person right next to the hypocrite.
We both agreed, we were sorry for what was about to happen, but it is only necessary. For the wicked have no positive impact upon thy neighbors.
And thus, we struck our holy pose, and whispered into the man''s ear.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
We whispered to him a holy rhetoric that only an enlightened individual could understand. Whispers of higher planes, equations that went out of this temporal reality''s bounds. Fractal haven. Incalculable beauty. Ancient tongues from before our primal era. An alien logic. The powers that be, spiraling this pool of energy, and funneling it into a miniscule, concentrated area that was the terrorist''s brain.
The mortal couldn''t come close to comprehending what was said.
But he heard it.
In that instance, the mortal could hear a murmur from the universe.
Albeit, at a frequency he could not perceive.
Within four seconds, his face ballooned into tumorous proportions, before shattering into a bloody crimson mist.
It seems he could not understand the lesson at face value.
The Sorcerer''s corpse plopped down onto the cold, hard floor of the ceiling.
Though the root of the problem has been dealt with, there were four other weeds that needed to be dealt with. On the bright side, since this guy is dead, it doesn''t seem like he has anymore willing summons up his... corpse. On the downside, taking down the root problem didn''t fix much.
Some of the presences are fainter than others however, with the aid of Xanadu, this should only be a momentary issue.
Noises of collapsing buildings and screams could be heard on the other side of town. The sense of self dwindles every second that the people suffer. Not that it''s my main issue however, this issue is that it''s in the background. It''s as if I were in a tug of war match between a four year old. I''m winning. I will always win in this scenario. But if the four year old has infinite stamina (not strength, just stamina), and my body is still limited, that''s not good. In tug of war, even tripping means death.
We teleported towards the core of the noise. Chaos was widespread; the neon atmosphere was replaced by smog and rubble.
As we casted invisible barriers towards individuals and groups of peoples, we also formed a plethora of tentacles and arms to either hold buildings up, or dampen the fall of the debris. Seeing as how most of my missions with this mask mainly rely on support or facing psychopowered opponents, this was less tense than the usual city scale event with 18 other students and several more agents policing the city. Though, seeing as how I''m the only one here, and I really don''t want to involve the others, I have to do this all by my-
...self.
What
the fuck is that.
About 80 meters away, I see a giant room sized scrotum with what seems like 8 testicles inside its... sack, and various skewers poking through the membrane. It doesn''t help that the screams of its many faces and mouths echoed from a distance. If anything, it''s shocking how it took us this long to notice it.
And not too long afterwards, it wouldn''t take long for it to see us.
As if revving up like a hedgehog, the ball of grotesque pain and misery started spinning in a stationary mid-air position. Spinning, faster, faster, faster; twelve thousand revolutions per second.
One of its faces saw my eyes.
I saw its eyes.
Even if only for a split second, we locked contact.
He may have seen me earlier. But unlike the various screaming crowds that it glanced at, it only saw them. This time oh...
This time, it notices me.
And its screams.
Its god awful
fucking
ear-piercing
shrieks.
It careens towards our way at what seems like the speed of sound, effortlessly crashing through buildings, shredding holes into everything it impacted. The splatters of blood that showered its grotesque figure glistens in the smog of downtown Kyoto. We preemptively set up a barrier for ourselves so as not to be turned into another stain across the wall. Especially not by something that came out of "I have no mouth and I must scream". Death should be natural and peaceful; not an embarrassing circumstance by such an obscene creature.
Instantaneously, the vile spirit crashes into my barrier, screeching and scratching against the psionic bubble I''ve set up. Huh? No way! As an unpleasant surprise, this thing was actually doing damage to it. Considering Xanadu''s barriers were the type to withstand some large explosions, this is pretty shocking. And then I see it. The ends of the spikes were leaking fluid. Probably a spiritual poison of some kind, since the only form of doing real damage to these barriers were either with magic, psychopower, or Ki. Like a hypothetical chainsaw that never ran out of gas chewing up against a wooden medieval fortress: it wasn''t a matter of the wall being able to withstand the chainsaw; it was the matter of the chainsaw getting through eventually. And judging by the thousands of scars this thing was doing, it was sooner rather than later that this thing was going to burst through.
Think
Think
THINK DAMMIT
I don''t mean to be rude but, isn''t this mask''s power supposed to grant me wisdom and-
Wait a second.
Wait a second!
I just have to think outside the bubble. Trapped between the harsh barriers of emotions, if I just think clearly for a second, this fatal puzzle is a lot simpler than it seems to be! I''m fearful of the eventual death, but how is worrying about it going to help me? Silly, SILLY, SILLY!
I DON''T NEED TO SAVE MYSELF FROM YOU-
I NEED TO SAVE YOU FROM YOURSELF.
Immediately, I unwrap my barrier and instantly surround it towards the evil ballsack. Without a second wasted, I close my fist, converting the size of the barrier to such a small and miniscule degree, smaller than that of a cell, the tiny ball can barely hold all of the blood and spiritual juice of the demon that just imploded.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iWugthMcbmY
One down. Three more to go.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
After gently letting down the debris, I enter the mind''s of all the victim''s and ease them into a permanent mindless, calm, and empty state. A soothing tune where all went mute and asleep in a blissful slumber. I surround them all in a giant blanket of protective barrier. I shall be back, for you all are my flock.
After minutes of trying to find the next creature, teleporting here and there, I finally see it.
A basketball sized eyeball with four wings attached to it, floating and commanding mindless people into a frozen state.
As a professional mindwiper, I only soothe citizens into a comfortable state.
This thing is causing permanent brain damage to everyone it interacts with.
It flaps its wings towards me. A cold and bold voice booms out of its small figure.
"Do not be afraid, child, for I am an angel."
I doubt this thing can see past the mask yet I still give it the most tired face imaginable.
First off, I''m far from afraid. I''m so insulted, I''m surprised the mask is having a hard time containing this emotion down.
And second of all, there''s no way this thing is an angel. Angels are rumored to cause apocalyptical events; the highest known beings in the spiritual echelon. Higher than demons and deities alike.
This thing can barely level a fucking door.
So the only explanation is that this must be a lesser spirit that''s unaware of how weak it is. This design... it''s reminiscent of biblically accurate angels- or rather a mockery of them. Since spirits are embodiments of common perceptions of things, and are a result of both appraisal and fear of these types of "angels", that''s the only logical conclusion of this thing. But since we''re in Japan, there''s no wonder this thing is so miniscule. A fraudulent visage, most likely unknowing of the damage it''s actually doing. What a shame.
"How peculiar. It seems I am unable to read your mind. Perhaps you are an agent of chaos, contracted with despicable forces to oppose me."
Yeah I''m already tired of this thing. I hate to get the ego take the better of me, but Xanadu, why don''t you exemplify real divine power. It''ll be the quickest way.
An echoing sound of a beautiful voice was heard within the back of my mind. A sound so loud, so holy, it skews all...my...
thoughts.
"??????????????????"
The attempt could be felt. It seems this creature mainly utilizes psychopower, since it keeps on trying to force its consciousness into our collective space. Like a puppy scratching away at a Bank''s security door in an attempt to break it down. Now if I weren''t wearing the mask, that would be a different issue. Nevertheless, the attempt is admirable-
?????? ????????????????????, ????????????.
Transferring consciousness, Xanadu shared a fraction of its existence with the lower being.
The vast expanse of the universe was glimpsed upon. Its holy and immaculate glory set upon eyes that could not perceive beyond the immortal plane. A layer far beyond even the highest of so-called "enlightened" layers. Grasping so much knowledge it wound back to learning nothing at all. Everything, everywhere, nowhere, and nothing. No need to be pretentious about it. It''s simply something
??????????????????.
The false angel immediately plopped to the ground like a duck that just got shot down. The eyeball droops and melts with its veins bleeding.
...
If you don''t mind me asking, what did you do?
?? ???????? ???? ?? ??????????????.
Ah.
Well, thank you for the display, enlightened one.
??????????????????.
Slowly but surely, the people began to wake back into consciousness. We could sense the damage in the people. Brain damage is serious, and most often than not irreplaceable. However, a dip in a couple of iq points is barely noticeable. But has me wondering: what type of person would willingly want this spirit? Obtaining it might''ve been a pain in the ass, but what use does it possess?
And that''s when I notice it.
We could sense the people. We sense their emotions and their thoughts.
Little did I realize, it was already too late for some of them. As my eyes count the people on the ground getting up, I see the trail. A shriek comes from near the corner of an alley. A stream of blood that was dragged towards the street and across other sections. I frantically follow the stream.
Most of the bodies were laying down, probably from unconsciousness yet the more I followed, the more the bodies piled up. Bisected bodies.
How?
There''s no way this ant of a spirit would be able to physically hurt a fly.
Unless.
Unless.
And then I smell it.
A stench that reeked worse than that hostile scrotum five minutes ago. It smells worse than a Shanghai sweatshop, where children and slaves cried for basic needs. A most vile presence. The same feeling as seeing the scum who sexually assaulted a mother in court, smiling and licking their teeth as they stared the victim down with intense lust and hatred. Genuine, unending malice.
I turn around and see the figure.
No.
NO.
IT WASN''T WORKING ALONE
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"
In the blindness of my shock, one of the humans got eviscerated in front of my eyes.
I see it. That thing.
Its long, lizardous tongue that slipped out of its gigantic razor sharp maw. Rows and rows of blood drenched jaws. Its intimidating muscular proportions standing at a macabre nine feet tall. Its mechanical body that meshed with reptilian scrappy scales. An exaggerated octopus tentacle that acted like a tail. Its limb of destruction...A thick, long, cold blooded claymore blade that slithered out a good 6 feet out of its left arm, and a giant, tumorous right fist that eclipsed the size of its own torso. And of course, its giant skull sneering at me.
No eyes.
How poetic.
Its disgusting tongue licks the blood off its chest and utters out a grovely groan.
"??????????..."
It sluggishly charges towards me, raising its awful blade.
"?????????......"
In a panic, I charge my fist up with Ki, delivering three meaty blows unto its meaty body, before teleporting away and evading a swift slash from death.
And to no one''s surprise, it doesn''t look like my strikes did any real damage...
"?????????......"
Nevermind that, no use in toying with this disgusting spirit. I''ll just finish this one off like I did the spikey meatball.
It slowly turned around before hunching itself over and stood in place, saliva gushing out of its mouth.
"I-I heard you... now stay like that and forever hold your-"
"????????? ??"
Where did
Where did it go.
"??????????????????
?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????"
In an instant,
I felt the spirit''s giant meaty paw turn my entire diaphragm and ribcage into dust.
I was knocked through seven entire buildings.
At first I felt nothing.
And then I felt all of it.
.
.
.
Fading in and out of consciousness, sentiments repeat themselves in my mind; as if a computer booting on and off, saying the same line of code.
I hate this.
I want to die.
Lives have been lost. I''m doing a shitty job. And this pain is only making me lose my will to live faster than the depression of the situation.
...
In the immortal words of Naoki: "This sucks".
.
.
.
I hear their voice.
The enlightened whisper.
They call my name.
???? ?????? ???????? ???????? ????????.
Why not.
???? ???? ???????? ????????.
?????? ???????? ???????? ?????? ????????.
I was born to be a brainwashed soldier for the government. I know that.
??????????.
?????? ?????? ???????? ???????? ????????.
I am not. I''m no hero. I''m not even a citizen in the eyes of the country I give my life for. I''ll never be... any of that. As much as I hate to admit it, they will cast me away once I die and replace me with another orphan. Please, let me be. I''m just... tired...
??????????...
????''?? ?????? ?????? ???????????? ???? ?????????? ?? ???????? ???? ?? ??????????????.
?????? ?????? ???????????? ???? ?????????? ?? ???????? ????????????.
?????? ?????? ?????????? ????????????????, ???? ??????????????????????, ???? ??????????????, ???? ??????????, ?????? ??????-???????? ?????????????????????????? ??????????????.
???? ???? ?????????? ???????? ???? ???????? ?????? ?????? ????????????.
???????????? ???????? ?????? ?????? ?????? ???????????? ?????????????????? ????????????. ?????? ???? ?????? ?????????? ???????? ?????????????????? ???? ?????? ?????? ???????????? ?????? ??????????, ?????? ?????????? ???? ???????????????? ?????????? ???????? ???????? ???????????????????????? ???????? ??????.
?????? ???? ??????????.
Why are you doing this? Why should I be the good guy, the savior of these people? These ungrateful citizens, unknowing of the powers that be. Unknowing that people like me, both adults and teenagers no less hold their stability, and yet, cause misfortunate all over us, bot tangible and otherwise. I''m not even doing this for myself, that''s the worst part. I won''t be treated better, or rewarded. So why. I don''t even know these people. So why?
Why won''t you let me die.
?????? ???????? ?? ?????? ???? ????, ?????? ???????? ?????? ???? ?????? ???????? ????????.
??''???? ???????? ?????? ???????? ????????????, ?????? ?? ???????? ???????????? ???? ???????? ??????????: ?????????? ???? ???? ???????????????? ???????? ?????????? ???????? ?? ?????? ???? ??????????????????????. ???? ???????????? ???? ???????? ?????? ???? ?????? ???? ????????????????, ???? ???? ?????????? ?????? ???????? ?????? ???????????????? ???????? ?????????? ???????????????? ?? ???????????????? ????????????. ???? ???????????? ?????? ???????? ?????? ???????????????? ?????? ???????????? ????, ?????? ???? ???????????? ?????? ?????????????? ?????? ???????????? ???? ???????????????????? ?????? ????????, ?????? ???????????? ???????????? ?????? ?????????? ???????? ???? ?????????? ????????????????, ???? ?????????????? ???? ?????? ?????????? ?????????????? ?? ?????????????? ????????????.
...
...
You preach too much.
?????????????
????????????.
?? ???? ???????? ?????????????? ?????? ?????? ?????????????? ??????????.
???? ?????? ?????????? ?????? ???? ???????????????? ?????? ???????????????? ???? ?????? ?????? ??????????, ???????? ?????? ???? ???????????????? ?????????? ?????????????????
?????? ?????????????? ???? ''????????'' ???????? ???????????? ???????????????? ???? ????????????????. ?????? ???????? ???????? ?????? ????????????. ???????? ?????????????? ???? ???????? ???? ???????? ?? ????????????????, ?????? ???????? ?????????????? ?????????? ?????? ???????? ??????????????.
So isn''t this all an endless cycle?
?????? ?????????? ???? ???????? ?????????? ???? ???????? ?????? ????????????????????. ?????? ???????? ?????????? ???????? ?????????? ????????????. ?????? ???????? ?????????? ?????? ?????? ''??????????'', ??????????????.
?????? ?????????? ???? ?????????????? ??????. ?????? ???? ???? ????????? ???? ?????????? ???? ???? ???????? ?? ???????????? ????????????????????. ?????????????? ????????, ?????? ???????????????? ?????? ????????????. ?????????????? ????????, ?????? ?????????? ????????????????. ?????? ????????????????????, ?????????????? ????????, ?????? ???????????????????? ?????????? ?????? ?????????????? ?????? ??????????????????????????, ?????? ?????????? ???? ???? ?????? ?????????? ????. ?????????? ???? ????????????; ???????????? ???????????? ??????????????????. ?? ?????? ???????? ?????? ????????, ?????? ?????? ???????? ???????? ???? ???? ?????? ?????? ???? ???????? ???????????????? ????.
But that''s...that''s dumb. Why would I ever willingly want to get hurt? I''m already hurt as is. But.. but... but I''ve been hurt before. And I''ve experienced this plenty of times before. And i''m still standing. And if it weren''t for my ass getting kicked, I wouldn''t have learned my lesson. And if it weren''t for me sacrificing myself to save Makoto that time, I wouldn''t have learned to use such creative uses of Shinra fist... and she wouldn''t be alive... But it sucks! Pain is terrible! This glorification of pain means to grow...
It''s unfortunate...
but
but...
But I think I get it. If there was only negativity in the world, then that would suck! Negativity wouldn''t exist if there''s nothing to contrast it! But negativity wouldn''t exist if we never existed...
But that''s... that''s the curse of being human. But due to the law of logic, our curse blesses us with positivity as a natural counter. And no matter how awful the times are, and how awful it will always be,
we''re still here...
Holy shit- you''re right. You''re right! That...
I guess that makes a lot of sense....
...
Alright.
You got me.
????????''?? ???????? ?? ???????? ???? ????????.
As a discretion though, you''re going to have to carry 90% of the load for this next one. I''ll gladly pick myself up, but I think you''re forgetting the fact that us humans are fragile, superpowered or not. Also, my entire rib cage got fragmented into small particles.
???????? ???? ???????? ???? ????.
By the miracle aid of the mask, my body gives the middle finger to my broken physiology as it stands up from the rubble.
Feeling all the intense and infinite pain of my injuries, my shrieks soothe down as a fragment of Xanadu''s essence helps numb the pain as they slowly take over 90% of my body. I command my partner to teleport all the nearby citizens into a couple blocks over.
If this demon wants to play hard, we might as well make this area our playground. Rubble and smog clear away. The rustling of the beast revving up from quite a distance away. The scenery of the chaos. Silence is loud. But it''s also tranquil in such a sense. The tingles of anticipation. The drum of the heart beats louder. Malice against benevolence. Beauty and the beast. Beauty within the beast. Twice nature; DOUBLED ALL. SYNCHRONIZE. ESSENCE. BE. AM.
We don''t move an atom.
We don''t even breathe.
We only concentrate on what the move is going to be.
I give my life unto thee
In the name
of humanity.
.
.
.
.
.
"GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-"
VYOOM
I KNEW IT
IT DID IT AGAIN
This spirit is much like that one spirit at school who puppets my dead friend''s corpse as his own. Though I rarely interact with him, I''ve seen him pull... that move off.
The Flash step.
A dash so fast it seems like the person is teleporting.
Thank god I deduced this before round two, or else it would''ve cleaved my body in eights. A mere inch away from my face, I gaze upon the blade of death. Pinching the weapon still with my mind, i''ve finally caught it. With my heightened telekinesis, I finally grab the spirit and scrunch it up like an accordion, before stretching its limbs out like 5 separate trains pulling and yanking its head and limbs with maximum force. I know this creature is muscular beyond reason, but it shines through with its surprisingly sturdy flesh.
GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Increasing the intensity tenfold, the plan finally works; all of its limbs and head pop off seamlessly, flying a good 50 meters away in their own directions.
What I didn''t expect however was for it to regrow all of its limbs back in seconds, and at the same volume as before. I know I did damage to it, however, its more minimal than anything.
??????????, ???????????? ???? ????????.
Ah.
If you insist.
It''s a surefire way of eradicating the spirit.
But it''s riskier.
The demon assumed its charging pose once more, squatting and pulsating its muscles to an even greater degree. Its vicious tongue mocks us with wrathful vigor.
Are you sure this is going to work?
?? ?????????????? ?????? ?????????????? ????????, ?????? ???????? ?????????? ?????? ???? ???? ?????????? ???????????????????? ????-
-doubt. Right. I know.
I know.
"??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????-"
Performing our holy pose once again, Xanadu blew their trunk.
Silencing the awful screeches of the spirit, a divine solo plays. An echoing of the cosmic abyss was heard. From the stars, a dismal tune was strung upon a galactic instrument. A sound so beautiful it would spark tears upon the holy, and make the dead cry in more ways than one. The buildings took the shape of a solar system blanket. The spirit grasps its head in a frantic seizure, as its entire being melted.
Making a force field that covered both Akemi and the creature, the holy sound echoed even more, vibrating the spirit to such a magnified degree, the lines of its being fluctuated; as if its then smooth proportions were reduced and rendered into mere scribbles.
The more the spirit resisted, the louder the noise became. Using the last of its spiritual essence, the being reaches out in an attempt to skewer Xanadu and I
only to become atomized into a mess of spiritual nothingness.
It was the most beautifully destructive thing I''ve ever witnessed.
Thank you, enlightened one.
?????????? ?????? ???? ?????? ?????? ???????? ?????? ??????????????????????????. ?????????? ???? ?????????? ?????? ????????.
Right.
I trace the faint stench in an attempt toooooooooooooooOOOOOOO- owhat the FUCK
Forget tracing the smell.
I found it.
2 miles away, clear as day.
An oversized, legless, skeleton just dragging itself and wreaking havoc in a straight line.
I teleport to its whereabouts to get a closer look.
My god. Its stature was as if fifteen people were stacked atop another, this mindless boney kaiju ate everything it could get a grasp on. I realized by its iconic and simple design that this was no run of the mill simple spirit. It is said that if a spirit is recognizable to a degree, then the fear or appraisal of that specific spirit or concept will come into fruition.
This is such a case: The Hungriest of spirits, Gashadokuro.
Nevermind the question of how an insane person was somehow able to summon two lower spirits and two greater spirits, right now, I just have to focus on the safety of the people, and the destruction of this ghoulish apparition. Within the sector of the area, I blind the people''s minds with a peaceful glow, and teleport them towards the safety of the main barrier.
It''s just me and this skeletal specter, alone in this giant arena.
It''s sneering. It reeks of burnt corpses. And not in a spiritual sense either.
It opens its mouth and vomits a volley of magma encrusted boulders. Its ghastly breath burns my nostrils as it reaches me! Weaving, teleporting, and telekinetically carrying myself all over the place, I dodge the hellish projectiles as best I can. Normally, I would''ve put in the effort of protecting the city, but seeing as how this entire city block has already gone to shit, I might as well focus on not DYING and just finish the job.
Utilizing the rubble of the fallen buildings, I send all of the debris in shapes of spikes towards the greater spirit. It did a noticeable amount of damage, clashing against the dense creature''s ribs. Thunderous cracks ring in the air. It roars in pain, the reverb of the screech could be heard for miles.
But, if this thing wants to scream,
I''ll give it a reason to scream.
Extending the trunk of the mask outward, I attempt to reenact Xanadu''s song from earlier.
The soul piercing screech rattles Gashadokuro''s bones, much like the other demon; its spiritual body vibrates to a high and unnatural degree once more. As if repeating the same mistakes as the prior spirit, it held one of its hands in its ears.
It''s working, its working, IT''S-
In a suicidal attempt, the giant skeleton was willing to sacrifice its right arm in order to snatch me mid-air.
I smell a lively maggot infested landfill from its evil breath, as it laughs in joy that it managed to capture me, holding me near its face. In its grasp, the pressure of a room sized hydraulic press was applied upon me; its fingers scrunching tightly, and even moving them ever so slightly so as to grind my bones into a paste within its hand. The pain from earlier worsened, as inevitable gashes and fractures form.
The only reasoning I can come up with is how the spirit could survive the song for more than 4 seconds, simply of its nature. Being a greater spirit, it can naturally last a longer time against that type of attack. It also didn''t help that I didn''t put up a barrier to amplify the reverb effect. Or maybe, it was simply born better.
Well. I''m vomiting blood. I can''t feel anything below my neck. All the neurons have fried from the pain. The shock wore off a long time ago. My reserves for magic and psychopower have dwindled down, and I can''t use ki at the moment seeing as how mY BODY IS ACTIVELY BEING OW OW OOOUUGGHGHGHGHGYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
I hate to admit it but
This is checkmate.
????????????????.
What?
?? ????????, ????????????????
Well what do you want me to do?
??????????????????, ?? ?????? ?????? ???????? ?????? ?????? ?????????????? ???? ???????????????????? ???? ?????????? ??????????????????. ?? ?????? ?????????? ??????. ?? ?????? ?????????????? ??????. ?? ?????? ???????? ???????? ?????? ???????? ???? ???? ??????????. ?????? ?? ?????? ??????????, ?????? ???????? ?????????? ???????? ?????? ??????. ???????? ???? ???????? ????????????????????????????. ?????? ?????? ?????? ?????????? ???? ???????? ?????? ????????.
???????? ?????? ?????????????????? ???????? ???? ????????, ???????????? ???????? ???? ???????? ??????????????????, ???? ?????????????? ???????? ???????? ??????????.
...
It''s funny, really.
Even in the last moment of my life, I still have to meditate.
.
.
.
No... no! I already faced the mentality once, but never again.
Am I really going to think about death when there''s a clear option available? Options aren''t granted- they are made.
Through the unbearable pain, the bones sticking out of my body, the duty of my service, my on-the-spot intellect, through my bad luck, my boulder, my spiritual being and my will to live.
I see it.
The hole through the needle.
The flaw in my downfall.
The necessary course of action.
As the Giant Skeleton presses his thumb against my chin in an attempt to pop my head, I garner the remaining grasp of my consciousness for one last quick technique. My mind tears itself between fear and concentration. I don''t want to die. I don''t want to die. But fear won''t get me out of it. As if pushing a plethora of people away from my path, in the aim of finding that one golden memory from my kit, I brace for the last trick up my sleeve. It was at that moment that I remembered: I can teleport.
Fractions of a second pass. The strength of the colossal finger upon my chin slowly but surely forces my neck muscles to rip. With one last deep concentrated thought of action, I imagine myself in a place I would much rather be.
I place myself high in the sky, eclipsing the moon in all of its glowing glory.
My sponsor is right.
Everything can be solved, if you clear your mind and make the smartest play.
Using telekinesis, I gather the rubble of the town and form a giant cluster the size of a mall.
On top of that, I also use the telekinesis upon myself, placing back all of the bones in its place, suturing shut all the tears in my skin, and seeping back every single cell of my blood back into my cardiovascular system. A flesh doll held together by tape. An ugly toy. Pahaha. PAHAHAHA. BUT AS LONG AS I CAN STILL PLAY, IT DOESN''T MATTER!
Listening to the heart beats of all the humans in this town, I make sure to teleport them all. Far away.
In a futile attempt at stopping me, Gashadokuro breathed in, and let out a spiral cone of hellfire. The visage of all of the souls he''s eaten attempts to grasp and rip me apart. The guilt of them screaming and pleading, ''why did you let me die? Why? Why Akemi, why did you kill ME?'' A punishing all-rounder technique that burns away at the body, the mind, and the soul.
It burns me.
I do not care.
I fling the psionically charged miniature man-made asteroid towards the demon.
"TO A STRONG MIND, EVERYTHING IS A PLAYTHING."
Delirious Psion.
Vengeful soldier.
A false deity that is propped up by belief; much to its support.
Confidence.
A bright glow blinds the city.
An impact that''s going to be hard to cover up.
As if I care.
.
.
.
Seeing as how a giant ball just carbonated a city block, and the rest of the city is in ruins, I did my best in single handedly making everything less shitty. Not necessarily fixing everything, or else that''d be suspicious, rather, making it look like a tiny meteor and a small scale earthquake did the damage, all while minimizing the damage and making it seem more realistic, instead of the damage being cause by a basketball sized eyeball with wings, a scrotum with spikes and faces all over it, a violent machine lizard, and a giant fuck off cartoony skeleton. It also helps that normal humans and regular phones can''t capture spirits. So that''s a load off my back. I teleport all the humans around the areas I remember them being. On top of that, I wipe their minds and fill their brains with false memories, as if it were a naturally occurring earthquake rather than a bunch of claw marks and exploding bodies. I teleport myself back towards the arcade bathroom.
It sucks. In the end, I couldn''t save everyone. Though this is a truth that all sorcerers must make amends with, I still can''t help but feel hurt. It saddens me. All the pets that were lost. Every grandmother, every grandfather. Every sibling. Every child. I could''ve prevented their deaths if I hadn''t lost. I could''ve prevented their deaths if only I executed my plans perfectly.
?????? ??????????????''?? ???????????? ???????? ????????????''????''??, ??????????''????''??, ?????? ??????????''????''??. ?? ???????????????????? ????''?? ??????????????, ?????? ??????????''?? ???????? ???? ???????? ?????? ?????? ????. ?????? ???????? ???? ?????????????? ????????. ???? ?????? ??????, ?????? ?????????? ???????? ???????????? ???????? ?????? ?????????? ???????? ??????????. ???? ?????? ?????? ???? ????????????????, ?????? ???? ?? ?????????????????? ??????????????????, ???????? ???????? ???????????? ???? ?????????? ??????????????????.
?????????? ??????????. ???????? ???? ?? ???????????????? ?????????? ???? ??????????????, ?????? ?????? ???????????????????? ?????????? ?????? ?????????? ???????? ??????????????. ??????????''?? ???????????? ???? ????????.
...
Thank you Xanadu. For your time, power, patience, and guidance. You were truly helpful.
???? ???????? ???? ?????????? ????.
Until next time.
????????????????.
I finally take off the mask. A breath of fresh air. Finally, unsuffocated, I am free.
.
.
.
There''s virtue in that too huh?
Hm.
You really are great, Xanadu. But no matter how enlightened you may be,
I don''t think I will ever agree.
.
.
.
I fished my backpack out of the trash can. My clothes are drenched in blood and sweat. Even with my significantly weaker psionic abilities barely holding myself together quite literally I still manage to change my clothes and march out towards the tournament. The shirt drags across my skin as if it were pins and needles. Taking a step feels as if a knife is skewing every inch of my body.
But I still walk onwards.
"Hey, guys-" I say towards Sqlooge and to the TO.
Even though I try to hide the pain, it seems my exhausted face and my condition are apparent enough.
"Holy shit are you okay? What happened to you?" props up Sqlooge.
"Ah the reason it took so long was because of uh...uh...UHHHH"
God damn it. Why must I be so honest? quick, what would Naoki say???
"-uuuuuuuUUUUHHHHHH- Indian Food!"
They both give each other a confused look
I continue: "That''s why it took me so long."
"Ah.... alright" says the TO
"Say, is the tournament still going?"
The To looks at me with a dumbfounded face.
"...Are you stupid? There was an Earthquake, so we had to cancel early. Most of the attendees already left. I''m still here because... well I''m also the manager, and I have to file an insurance claim."
"...and why are you still here?" I ask Sqlooge.
"I was helping people evacuate, and I''m just helping this guy over here clean up. Hate to see arcades go away because of circumstances so I''m helping out the best I can."
"ah... alright"
Still. With such a stressful night, it''s only natural that I have to treat myself.
Whether anyone saw or not, I stepped onto the unplugged DDR machine, and I dance my heart out. My rage, my sadness, my awakening, and my evolution. Thanks to the mask, I found a new aspect of myself. I may not be perfect, I may not be some hero or paragon of virtue. But I am human, and for now, that''s enough for me.
"Woah..."
I open my eyes.
Woah shit, there actually was someone watching me.
"Damn that was... awesome dude" exclaims Sqlooge.
"After seeing that, I can''t wait to see you at the next tournament! Don''t go eating out at Indian restaurants again! :)"
"Thanks, Sqlooge."
"No problem man." he responds with a smile.
Momentarily afterwards, I walk out of the venue, and walk back home. Phasing in and out of consciousness, I walk past the neon district, walk past the classical aesthetics, walk for fifty minutes, and into the forest. I pass out midway into the barrier...only to wake up at the Nurse''s office back at the academy.
It''s Miss Gretchen, the medic, and Mr. Naota.
"Ah, finally," said Gretchen.
"Are you alright?" prompts Naota.
"I am....
alive"
"...
Yeah he hit his head good, you should look up on that" taunts Naota in a half joking tone.
"I''d love to explain it all but right now, I am... really tired.
Also why do I feel all sticky and slimy?"
I look at Miss Gretchen.
Ah.
Right.
And despite my losses, and despite ruining something I''ve been looking forward to for a while, I like to believe I have grown in at least one way or another.
And for now,
That''s enough for me.
Average Day: Naoki buys Jordans
Its an average day at the academy.
Naoki runs out of his room looking for Makoto.
"HEY, HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!" he yells.
Makoto, bumbling around like a fuckin idiot was standing near a wall.
"....yeah?"
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
"Check this shit out dude!" says Naoki, presenting his foot outwards.
"I got me some new shoes! They only costed 28,000 Yen! They''re pretty fucking cool huh?"
"...
No.
Take a closer look" said Makoto, pointing at the shoes.
Naoki does so.
"The fuck"
Introduction Chapter: Kyouji Nakugima / [On the essence of life]
[Two years ago]
Friday
The best day of the week
Its the weekend.
I preemptively finish my assignments for the week. There''s no time for homework when she''s calling for me. Hell, any minute, any second of my weekend being spent on anything but with her is a god damn insult to our love. Training? Please. I''m already ripped as shit. I''m not like those dunderhead pillars that punch their way out of everything. Don''t need to. The ways of aping your way through every problem is in the past. Humanity was built to evolve. And with the aid of technology, evolve we will.
I switch my uniform and put on my violet bathrobe.
I march towards my cathedral.
On the way there I see that dimwit Naoki.
I go up to him.
"Naoki, do you need anything."
He looks up from his phone and gives me an odd stare.
"N..No..?"
"Are you sure? Nothing with your computer or anything?"
"Not... really, not yet, no
Why?"
"I am going to be gone for a while. Either tell me your sorrows or forever hold your peace."
"Uh actually, I do have something that you can help me out. I took this one mission last week right, and the guy bent my arm backwards to the point where it-"
"Already don''t care"
"Well, thanks dick."
"Anytime lil bro."
I march onwards, never to see the light of day for who knows how long.
.
.
.
Ah yes.
The computer Lab.
I enter my palace and lock the doors behind me.
I''ve spent the last fifteen years treating this place as my personal haven.
The blue glows of the wires provide the only light I need.
My personal keyboard greeting me as a dog would its owner.
The giant bright light that teased me with its prompt.
"Enter Password"
Oh
Baby
How I''ve missed you.
I sit down on my worn out computer chair- a throne that transcends ages and memories. I''ve sat on it for so long, the seat now has an ass imprint; it might as well double as my clay mask for when I die. Alright that was a bit too far, but damn, I feel more comfortable sleeping here than I do in my own bed.
I hold my girlfriend''s hand for the first time in 14 hours.
I gently massage her keyboard, teasing her as I input my 134 character password.
"Heheh... there''s no way anybody''s going to figure this out"
And then I hear it.
A squeak.
The letter "E".
I press it again.
Squeak.
You
You...You WHORE!
HOW COULD YOU.
YOU LET SOMEONE USE YOU.
THEM OVER ME.
I want to smack her.
I want to slam her.
There''s a possibility that it was against her will....
But also a possibility that it wasn''t.
But why would anyone use a school computer lab?
Don''t they know it''s my territory?
These conflicting feelings; my rite is being oppressed, challenged, insulted
But I know that the only person who could understand me
is you.
I lean over to her gaze and embrace her.
"I forgive you
Let''s talk about it."
And talk we did.
I opened notepad++ and spilled my guts to her.
5 minutes turned to 10 minutes. 10 minutes creeped up to 15. Then to 20. Then 30. 30 minutes crawled up to an hour. Then 2. Then 3. Pretty soon, the essence of time became irrelevant. Trapped in this room, I was in my element. Along in this room, I was by myself, with myself, in myself. I am Beethoven, for this deafness is no disease. This curse is my blessing. Stimulated, exaggerated. I''m so fucking good it became a bad thing. And this "bad" thing became so obsessive, it''s the only thing that feels good.
I am the pianist
For here I am, playing my symphony on these keys.
And to those who might hear this tune, I hope you understand:
The only one who can make us listen to ourselves, is ourselves.
Talk to the mirror
and see what you have to say.
.
.
.
These RGB lights have been blasting my face for what has felt like days.
I''m sure its only been hours.
Yet it feels like minutes.
This self imposed deprivation machine.
It''s astonishing.
I see it all.
For when one imposes limits, blindness, deafness, and walls, they see holes in them all.
And through those holes, the slips and glimpses become clearer and clearer.
This is my true being;
and I fucking love it.
I am the Maestro of Machinery
The Cardinal of Coding
The Digital Demise towards the Demonic REALM
AND BY GOD
I AM
I AM
I AM GONNA CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.
The opinions of others are deemed for naught.
For the only truth we must seek are those that are important to us.
As we pay for consequences, the sacrifices matter not.
All step after step, growing up on this noble path.
That is life.
I gaze into her eyes one last time.
I love you so much.
.
.
.
I open the door of the computer lab.
A giant waft of humid sweaty mist pours out.
Coincidentally, Naoki was nearby.
"Oh- Kyouji, That''s where you''ve been. I''ve been looking for you this entire time."
"How long has it been" I ask him as my eyes have a difficult time adjusting to the light of the outside world.
"Since I last saw you? Three days.
What have you been doing this entire time anyway?"
"I am glad you asked actually. I spent these past three days revamping this old minecraft mod. For free! Can you believe it? I''ve been doing this hard, tedious work that some schmuck forgot all these years ago, and i''m doing it for free! Man I guess I really just...
damn.
Hobbies are cool, huh?"
"You scare me dude."
"Oh but that''s not all I did"
"What else did you d-"
"I JUST HAD SEX"
Naoki squinted his eyes and responded after an awkward pause.
"You didn''t have to raise your voice ya know."
"Ah nevermind it kid." I say as I wrap my arm around Naoki.
"Please don''t touch me. Especially when you''re wearing nothing but underwear."
"Alright Alright. Say, I haven''t eaten anything in three days. How about we go get some lunch?"
"Yeah, my lard ass hasn''t eaten anything in 3 hours, and quite frankly, the sooner you get to wearing normal clothes, the happier I am."
"Sounds like a plan" I respond with a smile.
"Also, turns out I actually did need help."
"With what exactly?"
"I got like 14 viruses trying to get Minecraft for free. You mind helping me out?"
I was about to do the usual reaction of blowing up on his face and calling him an idiot...but then I decided-
"Sure thing Naoki. Its what I''m good at after all".
"Damn you didn''t blow up on me this time. Guess that 3 day masturbation sesh actually did tire you out, huh?"
...
Nevermind.
On the essence of life
[Present day]
It was a typical morning.
Kyouji had laid in bed for at least 5 hours; he only slept 2 hours.
He was tired. Tired of thinking. Thinking about being tired. Thinking that the only way he felt tired, was because he knew he was tired, and the only way he knew that, is through the reflective introspection of knowing that the body is tired, because the brain is telling it (the body) that it''s tired, or rather, the brain is telling the body that it is tired, thus the body is then recognizing the feedback "oh yeah, I''m tired", thus letting the brain acknowledge and confirm that it itself is indeed, tired.
-However, if the brain does not acknowledge it is tired, what goes out first? The brain, or the body? The body is exhausted of course, but if the brain doesn''t acknowledge the body''s quaking ailments, it just goes "nuh uh" and carries its metabolism and biological functions for as long as the gas can burn. It sounds like a clich, but the body runs on the fumes of the will. During Navy SEALs training, newbies partake in the legendarily difficult process of hell week. Intense training where trainees must endure a week without sleep, at least 5 days surviving in cold ocean water with other trainees, pain tolerance, exhaustive tasks and mental fortitude. Though it may sound fictitious, the border between ridiculous and reality blends.
Kyouji is the prime example of a person who wants to bend reality.
A burden he welcomes with open arms. A divine curse. A blessed ailment. One that every human suffers from their very first breath to their last neural impulse. Existence.
"I cann''t''t stopp thinkgking..."
Groggy, Kyouji realized he has no time to waste.
He has plans after all. Yesterday''s plans haven''t even been fulfilled. Neither were those from the day before that. And the day before that.
GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRHGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAHGGGGGGGGGGGGG
Kyouji flopped to the ground and climbed up his dresser to take a good look at his face.
"Look a little tired today..."
Nevermind that.
No time to waste on irrelevant matters.
There is work to be done.
Kyouji exited out of his chambers and shuffled towards the cafeteria to get a cup of coffee. Black coffee. every second counts, and there''s no time to waste for sugar and cream. Even if it would only take four seconds, those are four seconds he could spend on his projects.
Sliding against the wall, he carried himself back to the lab. The intense algorithmic messages of his brain quaked and pulsed. The philosophy of this particular science melted his mind, so much to the point that when he spilled coffee all over himself, it took him seventeen seconds to notice it had already happened.
There is no time to register the pain. There are things to be done.
Makoto went up to Kyouji as he walked towards the lab.
"Hey dude, quick question" she asks
She proceeded to ask her question.
What is it with these people asking him all these questions? Sure he''s smart, okay, but he is not the bearer of infinite knowledge and enlightened wisdom. Yet. Call it humility or reason, but can''t she go bother someone else? Even in the realm of computers and technology, couldn''t she grab some C grade engineer to help her out with her issues? GOD. The acknowledgement was not lost on Kyouji, but that''s the problem- acknowledge someone ELSE. Right now, there are things to be done.
"Kyouji?"
"HUH? Yeah?"
"Did you hear anything about what I just said?"
"Oh uhmmm.
No.
Not at all."
"Alright well-"
It is not good to be so stuck in one''s own psyche. Reflection is necessary, sure, however, it is a matter of acceptance and growing better- STRONGER, much like the soul and the body. To be blinded by the ego, the soul, a byproduct of the brain (and the environment) breeds delusion. However, there is more than one flavor for each realm. A wandering mind that''s plagued by its own issues is bad, of course. Counterpoint, it''s those minds that are plagued by everything else that suffer an equal weight. More present in the internal world than the external, one wouldn''t be surprised if a fire hazard occurred and it would take a couple minutes for them to register that the place is on fire.
"So can you do that? Please?"
"I
uh
huh
I''mmmm-"
Kyouji latched onto Makoto''s head. He stared directly into her eyes with a deadpan expression.
"I''m going to be so real with you, I did not register anything of what you said. Whether because I could not care less about the situation, or because I haven''t had proper rest is up to interpretation. However, I am a man that prefers to live on facts rather than theories or feelings. I recommend bothering someone else. Have a good day."
He let go of Makoto''s face and walks off.
Makoto of course gave a weirded out, sour expression. Especially since she was asking about him.
It is widely believed that A living being can be composed of either mind, body, or spirit. To no one''s surprise, this directly correlates to the aspects of PsychoPower, Ki, and Sorcerery respectively. Simple concepts, really. The easiest thing to classify as "living" is if it has a body, obviously. Fair enough. However, a facetious enough person can point at a corpse and go "it has (or technically is) a body, thus it is a living thing!". Let''s not be stupid here. A fairer argument would be within the realm of the mind. Most living animals and insects have a brain. As humans, we can register, compute, and process further concepts compared to some ape or mere ant.
These animals have brains, yes; they can process sensations and even a couple of above average concepts as well such as vague notions of "love" and "anger". However, one cannot simply talk to any animal. Through specific training, one can communicate with an animal if it has the mental capacity to do so (dogs, some birds, apparently some pigs as well). However, having a brain barely counts as living. A person''s body may be fully functioning, but if they are brain dead, they are no better than a cell; living, breathing, suffering endlessly. That is where the soul comes in. The ethos of a noun. Though a vague subject, it is ultimately what determines a true living being. A person''s personality, their habits, their quirks, going past their genetic code, the NURTURE, what are their political opinions, what are their tastes, their sexual preferences, what identifies them as THEM. A perfect example of a person who has both a body and a brain but lacks a soul is a psychopath. They may have above average intelligence. They may lead a quiet, successful life. But if they have no aspiration to go further than just lead a "successful life" and are comfortable with living in their personal bubble, they bear no soul. Hell, it goes beyond that, it goes with social relationships. Seeing as how psychopaths are literally unable to compute other people''s emotions, that just further cements their lack of soul. Even animals have souls. A cow and her calf may lack higher order thinking, but if a sow sees her calf stuck in a metal fence, and a human goes up to it and frees the calf as careful as they can, the cow will recognize the gesture. It may not bow its head. It may not say thanks or pay the human back with anything. But it didn''t trample or yell at the human. And that''s evidence enough to suggest that they have emotions and thus, a semblance of a soul.
.
.
.
As Kyouji monologued to himself in his mind, he barely paid attention to where he walked. His body, ingrained with the physical memory of the path between the cafeteria and the lab carries itself in automatic fashion. 5 Minutes passed, and he arrived in exhausted splendor.
Though he typically didn''t like assistance with his projects, anyone competent enough to match his speed especially in his current state, was a begrudging welcome in his eyes.
A plain looking girl that was slightly younger than Kyouji was waiting for him in the lab. She wore overalls and a yellow shirt. Next to her was a boy with red and blue sunglasses, black hair, and a cotton jacket atop his school uniform. Though the girl seemed pleased by Kyouji''s arrival, the boy kept his bored expression.
Kyouji''s tired eyes finally looked upwards. Barely paying attention to his peers, he soaked in the warmth of the lab. The hills of scraps and wires all over the tables. The countless screens blared unfinished codes, much less apparent bugs that were as clear as day to them. The various texts lying around, ranging from "The Chthonic texts of Mycenaean Greece '''' to recently discovered data and tests that the technology department has been tirelessly working on. Pagan sigils on carved stones were being used as paper weights- specifically atop worn-out Buddhist scrolls. Though the fear of blessed and cursed objects accidentally triggering each other due to physical contact was a pretty valid safety concern, those in the lab didn''t care; all of the items were already spent anyway. Burnt microchips littered the work benches, as well as visible stains on the countertops with a funky stench to them.
"So," started the kid with blue and red glasses.
"Where do you want to start this time?"
"Psssssshhhhh...." commented Kyouji.
He held his hand over his mouth as a means of contemplation. After 4.23 seconds, Kyouji had an answer:
"Jungseong, was it?"
"That''s my name, yeah" responded the boy with blue and red glasses.
"Go get the brains from the back fridges. Only grab a case of them, I don''t think we need that many at the moment. Though, do keep a mental note of how many are left after you grab one. We might need to ask for more from the Principal if we''re thinning out. He''ll most likely say yes, but if not, we might have to ask Mr. Mishima or the Vice Principal. I really don''t want to go get our hands dirty, because that''s precious time wasted, and you know what we don''t have?"
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"Time" simultaneously responded to the two other students.
"That''s right. Go ahead and do that. You on the other hand, you''re... Sora, correct?"
"Thas right!"
"Boot up the programs from last night."
"Oh yeah- about that" responded the girl.
Kyouji preemptively took a deep breath and looked upwards, closing his eyes in preparation of the news.
"What happened now."
"We lost some progress."
"Who fucked up this time."
"From the looks of it, nobody; it was a bug issue rather than someone''s fault-"
"How much progress did we lose."
"...Thirty minutes worth..."
Kyouji let out a disappointed sigh.
The girl knew to let him process and cool down before talking again.
Under his breath, Kyouji muttered to himself something along the lines of "these things happen, these things happen, these things happen..."
After 2 minutes, Kyouji finally looked at the girl and responded.
"Alright, thirty minutes isn''t that bad. Still not the best thing, but definitely not the worst. Since we''ve already run it once, I predict this should only take us around 22 minutes to do. In the meantime, let''s get a headstart on it while Jungseong comes ba-"
The Korean student arrived right on time with a cart and a case full of brains in jars. The yellow formaldehyde inside the jars immediately made the place reek of pickles.
"Right on time." commented Kyouji.
"Now then, while she runs the diagnostics, I want you to grab one of the brains and hand it to me. I''m going to connect the chip that''s wired to the computer and link it to the brain. Basic stuff, it''s the same thing we did yesterday, except we have to make up some of the lost work because it didn''t save the last 30 minutes. Understood?"
The other two agreed, and all of them put on some latex gloves.
Kyouji sighed and muttered to himself in deep concentration.
"All right...just gotta...gently..."
Staring at the brain in silence, he calculated where he needed to put in the chip. A small, critical spot that must encumber the least amount of tears possible. How deep must it go? About three and a quarter inches deep. The chip itself engraved with runic markings- specifically those regarding intuition, knowledge, and control. The brain itself gently tattooed with the kanji for entry ().
Aiming right between the hemispheres of the brain, Kyouji finally lifted up his arm, mustered up a controlled, harsh sense of force, and stabbed the chip downwards, straight into the Hippocampus. Afterwards, with the force of an ant and the care of a mother, he gently twisted the chip so that the sides of said chip could also stick into the walls of the inner hemispheres.
"Sora, what''s the damage" demanded Kyouji.
"Minimal estimations, 4%; maximum, 6%."
Kyouji''s eye twitched.
"That''s not bad, eh?" said Sora aloud
"It''s not good either. But we work with what we have."
Kyouji turned to Jungseong and commanded
"Go get us some goggles, tweezers, tumor retractor, soldering iron and a clean fan. You on the other hand," he said whilst turning towards Sora, "make sure you keep an eye on the diagnostics."
.
.
.
After a good fifteen minutes of examining the brain, the chip read fragments of the data collected inside the specimen and all the things looked pretty fine for the most part. Sora asked Kyouji ``Hey, I know it''s not really a big deal and it won''t affect us but... where did you get these brains?"
Kyouji, wearing his goggles, looked back and forth between the code on the screen and the effects on the brain. He eventually responds with "Where we, the academy, get the brains from are prisons all over the country. All of these brains are either from Death Row convicts, or prisoners with life sentences who agree to a contract to ''end it.'' The Academy is obviously a sub-sector of the spiritual branch of the government, and thus, with a couple submission forms, we can request for such specimens. Hell, on the rarer occasions, we can ask other countries for their death row prisoners, or in the extremely rare chance, a prisoner that''s found out to be a sorcerer. The other way we get brains is by getting them ourselves by killing rogue sorcerers and harvesting their brains. I usually ask most people whenever they go on missions but- I understand the task is easier said than done, so I don''t get my hopes up."
Sora, taken aback for a sec, responded with a question:
"Not that I care too much about the morality of what they''re doing since these are people who gladly deserve it but still... doesn''t this fall under cruel or unusual punishment?"
Kyouji would like to laugh, but he feared that a mere spec of saliva from his mouth might wet the chip, so he stifled his mouth, faced away while he talked, but kept his eye on the brain.
"Cruel? That is a fallacy. As you''ve stated, these people deserve what they get. If you''re asking me to pity Serial Killers, Pedophiles, and Psychopaths with a incurable disorders, you are mistaken. Being human is not a valid reason to be pitied. Not only that, but these people are already dead; in both definitions of heart and/or brain function. Secondly, unusual? Well..."
He paused for a moment before finally responding.
"Everyone''s definition of unusual is different. In this case however, I am the wrong person to ask such a question. Even I''m self aware of that regard."
He eventually faced Han Jungseong and asked for the soldering iron.
.
.
.
10 minutes after that, Kyouji noticed something wasn''t going quite right.
He took off his goggles and went over to the screens with the code on it.
"Scroll through the code."
"I''m pretty sure it''s all goo-"
"Just do it."
"Mmmm-kay."
Sora briefly scrolled through the lists of scripts and data that was compiled in the past twenty minutes or so. Seeing as how it was data collected from a subsection of a very complex organ, there was a minimum of at least 800,000 lines of code... and counting. Yet the code that Kyouji paid most attention to at the moment was the pre-set code that was meant to read the brain- not necessarily the content that was downloaded.
"Alright, we reached the end..." responded Sora.
"anything wrong with-"
"One more time. Scroll back up."
Sora gave an annoyed face and did so.
Nearing a quarter to the beginning of the code, Kyouji pointed and said: "There-
Line 34,077. You forgot to add the ending quotation mark in ''readtemp unit''."
"Oh... well, my bad-"
"Yeah, it is your bad." concurred Kyouji in a sudden tone.
"Don''t fuck it up again.
Thank you."
He put on his goggles and went back to work on the brain.
"....dick...." muttered Sora underneath her breath.
.
.
.
Outside the lab, a girl with short orange hair and round glasses had been waiting by the door for the past five minutes. Her heart beated rapidly every time she looked at the prodigy. There was something about him that she really liked. Hard-working attitude. Straight to the point. Cute quirks. Apparent interests. Even if he had a high chance of being on the spectrum, she could tell that he wasn''t hindered by typical standards put upon by society. Though it is true that most of the students at the academy were orphans and see most of each other as relatives, this girl was from a clan that sent her to the academy for the sake of studying. She had been crushing on him hard for a while, and today was the day she thought to confess to him.
.
.
.
"No, no, no, no, nO, NO NONONONONONOONONO" frantically shouted Kyouji.
Visible smoke erupted out of the chip and the surface of the brain. Han and Kyouji frantically tried to cool it off while Sora attempted to modify the processor''s speed to slow it down. After a couple minutes of panicking and intense workarounds, they all eventually hear a loud pop and then silence.
Jungseong sighed in a disappointed tone.
Sora put her hand on her face and waited for the others'' feelings to cooldown.
Kyouji gripped the table with veiny fingers and opened his maw. His teeth protruded in a similar vigor to a jaguar''s. So many complicated thoughts and skewed feelings bounced inside his head; drool pooled out of his teeth. An intense stare concentrated upon the burned brain in front of him. With blind frustration, he picked up the brain, dug his fingers into it, and started mashing and tearing it up into a grey and yellow-ish paste.
"MOTHERFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG"
An intense yell that fizzled into an otherworldly frustrated growl.
The girl walked into the lab.
"K...Kyouji-"
"WHAT?!?!" shouted Kyouji as he turned around and met the girl''s soft grace with his own hateful stare.
Her face instantly morphed into one of shock and distress.
"I- I just-
I
Nevermind"
She ran out of the room, on the verge of tears.
"Tch,
she comes into the room to ask me something, and she doesn''t even end up saying it. Who the fuck does that. How fucking stupid can you be. God. People wasting my fucking time, not realizing i''m wasting my own god damn time. It''s just-
FUCK."
He kicked his stool down and rested his hands on his face. He laid his elbows onto the table and stood there for a bit.
His other two partners were clearly disgruntled by the scene. Though they didn''t know the context, it was still apparent to them that he overreacted.
"Look dude, we don''t want to have problems with you." said Jungseong out loud.
"We did our best, and that''s all we can grant you. I don''t want you to-"
"I know you guys did." muttered Kyouji.
"This wasn''t your guys'' faults, you guys are fine
It''s mine."
The other two were slightly taken aback by the sentiment.
"It''s just-" continued Kyouji.
"Fuck man.
I try and try and try, over and over again, perfecting every single degree, every single angle, every tiny little detail and yet, despite the minute mess ups, they keep piling on and on and on, and though I say to myself, ''we can still work with this, we can still work with this-'' it still ends up falling down over avoidable little mistakes."
Han''s face morphed from slight annoyance to one of a softer demeanor.
"These things happen. We''re only human after all, so expecting perfection is a bit of a silly expectation, especially over something this complex."
"I understand that-
and yet-
the fact that it''s me messing up is so frustrating. How am I able to keep up with my principles if I myself can''t adhere to them. I don''t mind others messing up, that''s fine. I can get upset, sure, but best case scenario, people learn, and worst case scenario, I replace them. But the fact that I am the one who constantly fucks up with my own projects is so infuriating. I can''t live with this dumbass if he''s my own downfall. I understand perfection can''t be attained- but god damn it why does it have to be ME. This stage of the process was supposed to be done MONTHS AGO. And we''re still here? Do you know how many people we could''ve helped? Hell, how many people we could''ve saved if we got this under wraps? It''s just-"
Kyouji took a deep breath and let out a distressed sigh into the palms of his hands.
After a brief moment of silence, he finished off.
"It''s just frustrating.
You know?"
Sora responds with: "Well, it''s like you said, people will learn. Each time you''ve failed, you learn from your mistakes and you always improve. In all honesty, I still kind of don''t know what you''re trying to accomplish here-"
"I''m trying to make a Spirit Summoning program so that students don''t have to risk their lives solely depending on themselves, while also lowering the cost of willful summons, easier access to communications, lower reliance on outdated technology, tools, etc, and finally paving the way towards a more logical and convenient future. But the first step is to harvest brains and use them as a memory source for digitalized rituals, summoning instructions, and literal memory ala a hard drive or SSD card."
Sora and Han both give a blank stare. Sora finally continued:
"Yeah I''m... going to be so real with you, I only understood half of what you said but I don''t know how anyone is going to do that ??
But, seeing as how you''re clearly ambitious enough to do this, I have confidence that the only person who can do this-
is you.
So chin up dude. It''s going to take time... a long ass time from what I''m understanding. But you''ll get it eventually :)"
Kyouji lowered his greasy, brain splattered hands from his face and softly smiled.
"And deep down, I know all this.
But it''s been said to me over and over again, repeated every time I fail. And though I may understand it on a logical level,
and though I should be glad I''m human for having the capacity to never give up-
I''m not. I''ve been hearing this over and over again- and yet I still feel the same no matter what. I appreciate the words of encouragement, those aren''t lost on me. But no matter how many words and sentiments you spend, it''s all wasted if I can''t concur with them on an emotional level. However, I also understand that crying about it won''t advance the project by any means. The only thing we can do is continue working. So enough of this silly talk-"
Kyouji straightens his posture, as well as his face.
"-let''s get back to work; from the top"
The other two concurred and reset the process.
.
.
.
"Say, Kyouji" asked Sora
"You look tired."
"I am tired" he responded in a soft yet sarcastic tone.
"How many hours of sleep have you gotten?"
"Around two. Why do you ask?"
"Why don''t you sleep?"
"Why would I sleep when I can work on my projects? I may be tired beyond hell, but as long as I get to finish them, I can feel like I did something that day. If not, I feel like I''ve wasted it."
"Well, don''t you think you''d improve the quality of your work if you got a healthy amount of sleep?"
"No, that''s counterproductive. I can trade in those hours of sleep to work instead."
Han bumped into the conversation
"No, that is counterproductive. It''s like driving a car when it''s oil hasn''t been changed in over a year. Driving it in that condition would be hurting it more than helping it. It can still drive, sure, but it would be in terrible condition. Do you... do you not understand basic human biology?"
"We''re superhuman, remember?" rebutted Kyouji.
"Superhuman or not, we''re still human."
"....hm.
I see."
Eventually, I took the advice to heart and consistently rested a good eight hours for a good couple months or so. Within those months, we were finally able to figure out how to scrape out the memories of brains and use them as "storage" for digital memory. Despite the various failures, plethora of magical mishaps, and translation errors, in the end, we were able to conquer the hippocampus. Then from there, onto more complex parts of the brain. Though it took a long while, one success makes up for the various failures.
And though it is silly to think that one would be able to achieve everything on the first try;
I''m still mad at myself for failing all these times. To figure out something so simple took this long.
Damn it.
After the accomplishment of conquering the Hippocampus, Principal Hanayama invited over Kyouji for a quick personal meeting.
Kyouji, a bit annoyed, walked through the halls and eventually knocked on the pristine wooden door of the office.
"Come in" said Hanayama.
Despite being well over one hundred years old, The Principal barely looked a day over seventy. He wore traditional Japanese garments that looked more as if they were comfort rather than traditional wear. His long, silky white hair and beard clashed with his demeanor.
Upon entering the room, Kyouji noticed the Principal sitting comfortably in his chair. The room itself was dim, with the blinds shut. Kyouji also noticed that the principal had an open bottle of Jack Daniels on his desk, along with two empty glasses.
"Sit..." announced the Principal in a tone that was mixed with a croak and a growl.
Kyouji did so.
After a long pause, Hanayama finally continued.
"Kyouji....
How are you!"
"...
Fine I guess."
"I heard you finally advanced that project of yours huh? About damn time right?"
Kyouji stood silent with a deadpan expression.
Hanayama gave a semi annoyed glance but shrugged it off.
"How about a little drink to celebrate huh?"
The Principal poured a "generous" amount of alcohol into the two glasses.
"Drink up"
Kyouji blankly stared at his superior.
He didn''t say anything for a good five seconds until:
"No thank you. Alcohol makes you stupid. Why would I willingly hinder myself when I''m going back to work. That''s stupid. Drinking something that makes you stupid is inherently stupid. Thank you, but I''ll pass."
Hanayama downed the entire glass one in a swig before facing his student again.
"Are you calling me stupid?"
"Yes."
Hanayama''s vigorous stare met with Kyouji''s own bored expression. The Principal''s inner, younger self could be felt radiating off of his presence alone; a pressure so ever-present, most people would collapse when entering in his vicinity alone.
Yet Kyouji didn''t bat an eye.
After the awkward staring contest, Hanayama rested his hand on his head and announced.
"Man.
You''re so BORING. At least make this entertaining." grunted Hanayama.
"Is there a specific reason you called me over?"
Hanayama''s demeanor finally loosened down to his usual, casual demeanor.
"First of all, I wanted to genuinely congratulate you. Normally, these types of projects would have a hard time passing by, especially within the technology department thanks to one incident that happened during the late 80''s to early 90''s. We saw the potential that that power could have, and we were especially weary of such abilities for a long while. But a couple decades later, and now we''ve loosened up a bit, which is good for you of course. I don''t remember when was the last time The Vice Principal, Mishima, and I have all agreed on a project. Usually, projects are played in a rock, paper, scissor type of interactions between us three, but I''m glad that for once, we finally agree to give you the aid that you need. I appreciate what you''re doing, or at least the ambition for such a cause. Though I will warn you, there''s always limits to these types of things."
"I know; again, I appreciate all the support."
Kyouji stood up, did a slight bow, then sat back down.
"Second of all, I, Principal Hanayama, the one and only, want to acknowledge you. You are a prodigy, you realize that, right?"
Kyouji stared.
"Go ahead, take pride! Realize it. Relish in that fact, I won''t blame you! We''re only human after all."
Hanayama smiled, and analyzed Kyouji''s every movement. Every twitch fiber, seen and unseen. Every physical cue. Studying his psychopower''s emotional response.
Kyouji stared.
And stared.
And stared.
Until he finally tilted his head:
"Did you really call me all the way here just to tell me that?"
"Yes."
Kyouji gave his typical annoyed look.
"...
Okay.
Is there anything else you wanted from me, sir?"
Hanayama''s smile evaporated into a bored realization.
"That''s it. If you can''t even enjoy your accomplishments then why do I even bother."
"Good question: I was just on my way to the lab so I could start the next process in the project. You see, I realized a flaw in the system. Human brains have a hilariously larger memory capacity compared to a computer''s hard drive or even a whole server of them. And there''s no.... okay there''s little way that we''d be able to make a chip that could house an entire factory''s amount of storage in a measly chip- but not yet. Even if we had the funding, that would still be a massive waste of resources for the time being. But the main issue is that computer processors are infinitely faster than human minds. Of the top of your head, what''s 16 times 78 by the power of 14. That''s right, you can''t do that within a second. So that''s why I''m-"
"OKAY- okay I get it; I don''t care just go."
Kyouji stood up, bowed, and left the room.
.
.
.
As Hanayama contemplated, he smiled to himself.
"For as obsessive as the kid is, at least I know I can trust this one. Prodigies are born and can build up a specific skill. And though they are dangerous, especially since they carry the blessing of potential, I''m glad that this one doesn''t suffer from the other one''s... issues. The only thing stronger than an ego, is passion- an obsession towards something greater than their own pride."
Hanayama raised his glass and smiled.
"He passed."
Even though I can''t fathom giving up, this flesh of mine tires. Tires of thinking too much. Tires of moving too little. Thinking I''m not doing enough to even live. Doing what I love yet not doing as much as I want to, which makes me feel useless. What have I been doing this entire day? Failing? Spending time with my loved ones? Of course I love them.
Yet I bear this unyielding loyalty towards this fascination.
I hate it. I wish to become more. I hate being contained within this fleshy prison. I hate being limited by my biology. I hate feeling all these feelings; they only exist to slow and wear me down. I hope I could process a plethora of calculations all at once with no failures. I hope I didn''t have to distract myself with eating or sleeping so that I could have more time on my hands. All I do is wish. But the closest thing we can do to accomplishing those wishes, is to strive as close to them as possible.
I am encumbered.
I am flawed.
I am human.
Yet without these emotions, I wouldn''t have the process to love what I''m doing.
Without these flaws, life would be boring.
Without these taste buds and pesky mechanics for fuel and exhaustion, I wouldn''t be able to taste the splendor of a Medium Well cooked New York Strip, or feel the grace of an eight hour slumber.
Without these failures, this suffering, this bullshit, I wouldn''t have the drive to strive towards something greater. A goal that elongates the will to live. If I die now, I won''t be able to solve it. If I give up now, I won''t be able to satisfy my hunger. If I stop now, I will wither away into something lesser. Suffering isn''t failure; suffering is inaction. A corpse with no ambition. That is no life for me.
So for once, when I wake up, I can feel like the thing staring at me in the mirror isn''t a mash of tongues and teeth.
But rather, something clearer, stable.
A glimpse of a realization that maybe
It''s okay to live.
Average Day: 3 AM Kyouji interaction
When waking up in the middle of the night, one sees one''s self at an alien time and space. Too early to call it night; too late to call it morning. A space devoid of interaction and commonality. Where one''s nature becomes apparent: no eyes to judge you, no appointment to rush you, no time to hinder you. It is a free realm that only lasts so long. Where 20 minutes and 2 hours fuse to feel like one moment. Nothing to do. Yet, nothing to stop one from doing anything they want.
To those awake, they call it "boundless time"
To most, they just call it "3 AM."
Naoki awoketh and shot straight up from his bed.
"My god
I have to take a fat shit."
.
.
.
He walked down the hall to the nearest bathroom and spent 20 minutes expelling his bowels whilst reading comics on his phone.
After completing his business, he left the restroom and noticed that the computer lab still had its lights on.
"The hell? It''s like..."
He checks his phone.
"uh.......
really late
Who the hell would be up at such a time in the computer la-
oh
oh
fuckin- yeah, Kyouji, duh"
Naoki sauntered over and creaked the door open.
"Heeeeyy...pal. Whatcha... whatcha doin there"
Kyouji.
The 5''9", 19 year old creep who was like the weird older brother of the students. His disposition was rather... iconic, even amongst the other students.
Naoki had his pilgrim-looking ass outfit. Akemi had the 3 masks along with a relatively normal presence- so normal that it made him stand out. Makoto was one of the few students who wore normal people clothes on top of her uniform. So what made this dude so out there compared to the rest?
First off, his shaggy swept back hair had an obnoxiously noticeable dyed purple streak running towards the back of his head. His demeanor had that aura of an Italian greaser from the 40s mixed with that aura that eccentric loners and people who are too obsessed with their hobbies have. Additionally, if the guy isn''t working on an important assignment, there''s a high chance he''s strutting around with his bathrobe. And his most iconic feature yet, those shamanistic tattoos that wire his body with a technological motif. Hell, at first glance to the usual student, they would naturally think "oh this guy wears gloves 24/7, that''s pretty weird but alright", until they look closely and realize "those aren''t gloves; those are a bunch of layered ones and zeroes tattooed from his bicep all the way down to his fingertips; the bicep section was faint and grey, yet the lower it went, the more pitch black and dense the tattoo became.
The technological gremlin kneeling by his computer slowly glared back at the intruder, studying him in silence for what felt like 5 minutes, before turning back to his task.
"I''m installing a grill on the right side of my computer desk."
Naturally, Naoki was dumbfounded.
"Why uh... why would you do that"
"I realized, why go to the kitchen and waste 20 minutes making something for myself and eating it there when I can just grill while working or gaming. I don''t have to (really) stand up and I can do what I love while eating any meal. Less distraction, more time with my loved one."
At this point, Naoki was unsurprised.
This plan was so schizophrenic it was outright genius.
For how weird Kyouji is, Naoki couldn''t help but look up to him in an unnatural way.
"uhm... right, kinda what I expected."
"Are you going to stand there or are you going to help me"
"I think I''m just gonna leave if I''m being honest like... its 3 AM"
"Pussy"
"Uhhhhhhhh- yeah!- bye-"
"WAI-wait wait wait wait... I just remembered something."
"Kyouji come on dude, I only needed to take a dump, I wanna go back to-"
"Hang on hang on hang on hang on- before you go-" replied Kyouji as he stood up.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it."-Just to fill out my daily interaction quota, I want to show you something real quick."
Naoki tilted his head
"Daily interaction quota?"
"Yeah I talked to Ms. Gretchen and it had something to do with me talking to a person for more than 5 minutes. It was something about preventing mental and social issues and something about that ''oh we''re social animals we need interaction!" bullshit people spew. Of course I don''t believe it but, I might as well do it occasionally just so I can say I ''''''''tried'''''''', ya know?"
"Dude you''re fucked."
"...No need to compliment me..." blushed Kyouji.
"Anyway-
Have you ever heard of Bitcoin?"
Naoki sighed.
"Okay no this time, it''s a real thing and not something I made up a couple hours before, I promise you."
Naoki realized that if didn''t go with this, Kyouji would invite himself into Naoki''s room so he just sighed and went "Aight, what''s the gist."
"So basically, there''s this Japanese individual or group that, one way or another, had the great idea of creating digital currency and paying for real world shit with it. With some computer wizardry (I''m slightly exaggerating with that statement), they somehow made it work!"
"That''s... kinda cool... I guess"
"Nononononono, but that''s not the cool part. You know the stock market?"
"No"
"Pretend you do"
"okay"
"So with the stock market, you could invest some money in a firm and (hopefully), see that money grow. Of course there''s the off chance where that money dwindles but hey, that''s why you research what you''re putting your money into.
This is kinda like that.
Right now I only have 100 Bitcoins."
"...But what can you get with it?"
"-Oh, nothing. Its useless-"
"wh-w...wha-whe-"
Naoki made a face as if he experienced an aneurism
"ARE YOU STUPID?"
Kyouji replied.
"I wasn''t finished. It''s useless right now.
But like the stock market, you invest money in the digital currency, and then eventually, it''ll make you a millionaire. At least that''s the idea."
"...so it''s a waiting game."
"Yup."
Naoki pondered for a sec
"Alright. I guess that''s not the most egregious thing ever."
"Do you know what an NFT is"
Silence.
"Naoki"
"..."
"Naoki
Do you know what an NFT is"
Naoki glared at Kyouji
"Dude I just want to go to sleep"
This part onwards is non-canon due to timeline shit
"Answer the question Naoki"
"No. Is that an American sport thing?"
"No, its way worse"
"Dude- how"
"Oh shut up, we got inarguably the worst sport from them"
"...which one?"
"Baseball. Honest to god, you''d have to pay me to watch a full game of those. You''d have to apply for monkhood if you watch that shit sober- nae, for FUN. I don''t understand how those Americans and the rest of our population has fun watching this shit for 3 hours minimum. They are the most patient people I know of, I shit you not."
"Okay okay, I kinda agree.
But for real, what''s an NFT because I actually want to go to bed now."
"An NFT is an internet picture that is randomly generated, and that you can buy."
"...uh huh?"
"Yeah, yeah, and its like, you can buy it, and its the same idea as bitcoin."
"...okay?
So you can make money off of it."
"Sort of."
"...."
"Okay it''s a little misleading. It''s like bitcoin in the sense that you can buy it. And its digital. But for the most part, you just collect them."
"... why"
"Cuz they''re neat"
"Wouldn''t you want to make money off of them?"
"You''ll only get money from them if someone else is interested in buying them off of you"
"...
This is horseshit"
"Nahnahnahnahnahjust-just... hold up lemme uhhh"
Kyouji looked through his folders to show Naoki an example
"Look man
Its uh
Its my very own Cniva NFT"
"Huh.
You know what. You''re right.
This Cniva NFT does fuck hard ?? ?? ?? ??"
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
"..."
"Ok goodnight man."
"So does that mean you''re going to buy-"
"Absolutely fucking not."
The letter
It''s a bright and breezy 6 AM.
Makoto wakes up to the sun glaring directly at her eyelids, as if someone were hammering her door down with a sledge; to say it was a rude awakening would be an understatement.
Frazzled hair, tiger jammies intact, she saunters aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalllllllllllllllll the way through the halls and down towards the cafeteria. In a groggy mood, she makes herself a waffle with some blueberries along with strawberry milk.
Feeling the sensation of tree bark chipping away, or a cold shiver run through her being, she knew what it was.
"Ah shit, now? Really???"
``Yatagarasu Makoto`` calls out a cold, gray voice.
It was someone working on receptionist duty. They telepathically call out specific individuals in cases of alerts or general messages until their shift ends.
"Yeah?"
``You have a letter from your sponsor. Pick it up from the delivery quarters.``
"Ahgghhhh..."
"(What does he want)" she thinks to herself.
"That''s it?"
``Affirmative.``
"Cool, thanks"
``In the name of the Rising Sun.``
"....ok"
After finishing up her breakfast, she strolls down the cold, wooden halls for a while.
"Wait a sec... how could he send me a letter if.... unless it''s like some sort of application... But I don''t remember him saying anything about any plan? Unless it''s a surprise plan, knowing him isn''t out of the question... On the other hand- knowing him, I can guess what this is. I swear if he''s doing this just to waste my fucking morning I''m going to kick his ass. Not that I could but like- NEUGGHHHHH."
She made an audible, frustrated grunt. A couple of students heard her, looked back, made a confused face, before returning to their conversation.
After 20 minutes of navigating through the school''s hallways like some SMT warp dungeon, she finally makes it to the delivery quarters. Why they put it in the basement of the school is beyond her, but it probably had something to do with it being a very underutilized room to begin with. After all, in the age of the internet, a printer to print out scans and pdfs seemed more handy than waiting a couple days to weeks for receiving the same page. Better yet, one could just read emails and messages instantly instead of waiting all that time to hear a simple response. All of the information from one place sent to another- sent in less than a heartbeat. The power of communication; all in the comfort of your pocket, your fingertips, or the corner of your room. So why would anyone need mail? Indeed, indeed. Either that or, they purposefully made the most inconvenient delivery room known to man. Even if nobody used the mail, parcels are still a thing.
Makoto picks up the envelope with scribbles on it.
She opens up the letter.
Okay, quick break of pace here, sorry. I actually have *3* versions of this letter
The cleanest one, which is a slight idea of someone with his condition, but still implying hes still somewhat illegible to write, what with muscle memory and all.
The more accurate depiction
And the funny virtual version aptly made in MS Paint no less
She reads the letter.
She stares.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.Makoto tries to read the letter.
She stares again.
A giant bulging red vein on her forehead made itself known. Her grasp on the letter hardens to an iron degree.
"That fucker...
He thinks he''s so fucking funny."
.
.
.
Meanwhile, in Hawaii.
"Man..." reminisces Makoto''s teacher
"I sure am fucking funny."
As people scream in a frenzy, Taberu adjusts his sunglasses and pats the sand off his red swimming trunks.
In the coast of Lanai, near a luxurious resort, there are:
-Several thousand civilians in the nearby city.
-Taberu.
-3 undercover CIA agents who disguised themselves as citizens.
-An eight foot tall ancient evil that the Oceanic people have feared for thousands of years. Pale skin, wrapped in foreboding tattoos, tentacles for dreads, and dripped with an ethereal orange piupiu skirt.
-And 14 far off hurricanes that appeared 10 minutes ago; all of them waiting patiently for their master''s signal.
"Oh yeah... I''m doing this right now..." he comments to himself.
"Sorry, got a little off-track ya see, I just pranked my protg real fucking hard and man, thinking about the look on her face is kinda taking me out of this right now.
So you said you were uh... Weirdo? Weedo?"
"?? ???? ??????????.
????????????????? ???? ??????????.
?????????????? ???? ???????.
????????????????? ???? ?????? ??????.
?? ???? ?????? ???????????????????? ?????? ???????????? ????????".
"-I just asked for your name." interrupted Taberu.
"God damn
But since you''re in such a talkative mood (and I am too, in all honesty), then I''ll beg the question:
If you''re such a bad guy, then why are you waiting to send your hurricanes?"
"?? ???????? ???????????? ?????? ???????????????? ???? ???? ????????????
???????? ????????... ?? ???? ????????????????????".
Taberu cleans the inside of his right ear
"mmmmmmmmm.............
4 seconds...
Yeah... yeah
4 seconds at most."
The eldritch deity of the Sea gives Taberu a confused squint.
Taberu looks back and senses three individuals that smelled...off
"I don''t know who the fuck you guys are, but I''d suggest you run."
One of the agents stood by while the other two sprint as if their lives depended on it. (It did).
"Are you implying you can''t handle this?" rebuts the agent.
"I didnt mean run away from him"
The agent gave a frozen stare, stood there for what felt like a minute, before computing what Taberu meant. They immediately dash away in the vague direction as the other agents.
"???? ?????? ?????????? ?????? ?????????? ????????????...?????
??????????????????????.
??????''???? ???? ?????? ?????????? ?????? ???? ????????????????."
Taberu took off his glasses.
He opened his thirsty, gaping eyes.
"Try me" he hisses.
.
.
.
Cicadas sing.
.
.
.
As if awakening, all the citizens of Lanai suddenly regained consciousness. They didn''t remember being on the spot that they were in but...maybe they just weren''t paying attention. No panic from seeing hurricanes near the coast- there were no hurricanes to be seen. No roaring waves, no natural commotion, only confusion as the last 15 seconds seemed like a blur. Akin to driving from home to work, hypnotized by the road, only reacting to the sight of traffic lights and other hypnotized drivers. Barely paying attention; living automatically. That familiar sentiment occurred right now. Cars shifted and people felt out of breath from running but-
running from what?
Nobody knew.
And nobody cared.
That being said-
was the coast always this close to the resort?
.
.
.
Tuesday.
Taberu knocks on Makoto''s door.
Makoto opens.
"So,
Am I fucking funny or what?" he asks
"...
Dude it''s 4:37 in the morning. let me fckign sleep."
Introduction Chapter: Kuragari Taberu
PAINTED EYE
HOLY FLESH
FLICKER OF THE MOTH
WICKER OF DREAD
IT, WHO IS BOTH A PERSON
AND A PLACE
A HELLISH NOUN
WHO LIVES UPSIDE DOWN
NI?
I''ve been a sorcerer my entire life.
I''ve seen some shit. My best friend was turned into a meatball before my eyes, unable to revert back to normal. Countless students have died while on missions. Countless more adults fucked up and got what they deserved. Many are disillusioned by the powers that be. Thinking so high and mighty that they exist on our whims, controlled by our egos and such. No use in finding comfort in death and religion. There is no point. What matters is strength; survivability.
That is our goal in life after all. Find a wife. Get her pregnant. Have a child. Hope to god that child doesn''t die before you inevitably have to make another (barring the chances your wife never gets over it and becomes a vegetable). Raise the child. Watch them leave you. Watch them get their own child, then you have secured your biological goal in life.
I found a fun way to waste my time and scale how long someone lives.
I ask them about their religion.
Don''t get me wrong, I could hardly give a shit about what they believe in. It is the simple prospect of whether or not they actually believe in something that cements their fate. An uneasy correlation between these two facets of life. And obviously, (barring the zealots of the world), most people don''t want to die. However, I feel that with these people and their silly ilks, finding comfort in death in the form of an after-life already cements them to "try their best!" and hope not to die. And if they do, whoop dee fucking do; better luck next time.
I cannot fathom naivety.
Those who already know this are way ahead of the game. It is the simple fact that one must carry their egos and hold it dearly, because "god" (lol) knows, that is the only thing we truly have. I won''t act holier than thou and say that I''m above materialism. I fucking love partying, but with the government at hand, they can take whatever they please. The senses are great, but they aid you as much as they hurt you. And it''s more than just "the body being the only thing you have." It''s the soul, the ethos, the personality, who a person IS. And if people can''t grasp who or what that is, then they are no better than those blinded by a hypocritical false ego, much less a pantheon of said delusions.
.
.
.
There''s this kid that Makoto is close to, Naoki. It''s interesting to see the juxtaposition between these two, considering one is a woman and the other''s stupid, but I''ll admit he''s entertaining, at least.
One day I come up to him while he''s walking down the halls.
I ask him the golden question.
"What is your religion"
He responds something along the lines of Buddhism. I think he went into a two minute tangent, but I already heard what I needed to hear.
I sure hope Makoto isn''t too close to him, or else he''ll need to prove his religion exists.
In the next life.
There''s this other kid that the two associate with. He used to be an asshole but now he''s a sickeningly sweet kid. (Kind prefer the old him).
Mishima has something up his sleeve with him... not that I really care. I doubt it''s religious in nature though.
I asked him if he believed in a religion.
"I believe in God. A god, but I don''t think it''s strictly bound by a canon religion, much less any human interpretation, ya know? How can we fathom something so strong? That being said, I can feel something made by all of us. Even if it''s an eldritch abomination, I''m still grateful for it."
There is no hope for this guy ??.
I always wondered how a spirit thought. And not as in a dead person, I mean a genuine, living, breathing embodiment of a human concept. Thankfully we have a couple of those roaming around the school, and for shits and giggles, I asked if it believed in a religion.
"Hell no (pun intended)."
Well there we go. I''ll be honest, I expected him to have a more interesting answer, but thankfully, he''s not stupid out of naivety;
he''s stupid for other reasons ??.
One guy I know gave a semi interesting answer. He practically works, breathes, and sleeps technology.
I decided to go bother him one day.
"What do you want, I''m busy" he told me as he was fusing some technological junk together.
"Do you think there is a god?"
Without pause, he gave me an automatic answer.
"I don''t know and I don''t care."
It intrigued me because, not only did he not waste my time, he didn''t specify a specific answer, implying that it could in time, change.
Knowing him, probably not, seeing as how he''s always fixing something and would focus on technology than ever giving the thought of some pantheon or philosophy.
I''m glad that I don''t need to worry about Makoto. I asked her a while back and she said no. That being said, she explained to me that other people should, for the reason of "being themselves" and "self-discovery" or this and that and this and that and blah blah blah. Either she''d lead people on and have them cement their fates which would be- really funny, I''ll be honest, or she''s on some moral high ground shit and actually cares about other people which... not a big fan of but, alright I guess.
But as long as she knows who she is, and directs it towards a clear direction, she might even surpass me.
In due time.
In due time.
More than a decade ago.
It was a bright summer day. Most of the students were finished with what they had to do so they went out and decided to play some football.
Naota, Kuragari, and most other students were out in the back of the academy.
The students played out in an open, drab field with a bunch of tan, dried sand and small patches of grass here and there. As students were kicking the ball here and there, frolicking and enjoying their day, Naota and Kuragari were standing around, away from the field. They had been engaged in a philosophical debate for the past 20 minutes or so.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
"So let me get this straight," said Naota.
"You''re telling me that the main goal of life is to just get children, survive, wait to have grandchildren, and then just die off?"
Naota wore a red and black uniform along with some colorful running shoes. He had a spiky buzz cut, a lean, yet muscular physique, and academy styled shorts. Though it was deemed "inappropriate" for a sorcerer to wear shorts, Naota got away with it since he appealed with the reason of "due to it being summer time and being a Ki specialist, it would make sense to be as unhindered as possible in combat". Though that argument had some truth to it, he mainly wore it out of comfort.
The student next to him was Taberu. He wore a Slipknot T shirt along with some baggy pants and boots. All in black, of course. Back then, he was not allowed to stroll around in this casual outfit; not that he listened, though. He had the bare minimum physique for an average sorcerer, though he was still skinnier than most. His eyes were beautiful, poised with a sangria color.
"Yes, that''s exactly right. Hate to face the facts but anything else we do is kind of pointless."
Naota gave a stern look as if something wasn''t quite right.
"I see where you''re getting at, and at a biological level- sure- I guess but... there''s more to life than just reproduction. Yes we''re animals, but we''re more than that. We''ve been graced by intelligence to give higher meaning to things."
"We''ve been cursed with intelligence; any meaning we give just makes life more painful. Like, think about it this way, would you rather be the way you are right now, carrying above the average pain of a human, (seeing as how we see way more horrifying shit than they do), and live on like that, or would you be a cat and just laze around and wait until your human pet feeds you."
"Well I think that''s a very specific circumstance. Comparing an animal''s life to a human''s life seems too juxtaposed. In one place, cats can be glorified while in another place, they can be skinned alive and be used as food. I can do the same thing by using a king and compare his life to a cat that''s about to get cooked in China."
Taberu gave a sly grin
"First of all, you''re moving the goal post,-"
"Not really but okay"
"-second of all (before you rudely interrupted), don''t you agree that a King- despite having all that he practically needs to live a happy life, still has some suffering? This is a yes or no question."
"Ok well now you''re just moving away from the topic."
"I am simply trying to prove a point."
"...Okay then sure, even if they have no room or reason to complain, a king can still have some suffering."
"So that just proves my point. Any meaning we give to life, whether conscious with intelligence or not, is futile, and the only thing we need to do is to fuck for as long as our bloodline liiiiiiiiiives.
Ya know?"
Naota made a tired face as he did that head thing where people tilt their head upwards in frustration.
"Ok, yes, I get that genius, I think we all do, but there''s more to life than just a primitive goal. Yes, we have suffering, yes, Intelligence causes that, yes-
I get it dude.
But there''s more to life than just asking chicks out and having a family. The most important thing when it comes to humans is being happy and fulfilled. Doesn''t matter what it is, and don''t get me wrong, not all ''happiness'' can be excused since there''s some clearly messed up people out there, but for the most part, leading a happy life is the main goal. Sure we all get bored once we attain a goal, but that''s why we grow and expand on that dream- hell, it doesn''t have to be just one dream. Hindering it all on that one biological goal is... honestly silly. What if a person doesn''t want to have a family and wants to instead work on inventions and shit. So what if they stay a perma-virgin, their inventions could go on to leave a positive impact in society. I don''t get what you don''t understand about that."
Taberu gave a bored expression.
"Dude, I understand all of that completely already. I already said that it doesn''t matter what we do, as long as we do our biological part."
"But that''s the thing, it does matter what we do! That''s literally the entire point of life god dammit!"
Both of them paused to take a hard groan, realizing that they just went back to square one.
Naota continued.
"I feel like you''re being caught up in the negative aspect of it all."
"It''s not negative; it simply is."
"''Yes, it''s ''the truth''; good job. But for the fourth time already, there''s more to it than just biology and sex."
"Not to the whims of the universe it isn''t."
"Fuck the universe, there''s a reason life (human or otherwise) has intelligence and emotions. We give reason to things so as to live happily, thus leading to a fulfilled existence."
"That''s it. That''s exactly it. Blame intelligence and emotions. Even without those two we would all be husks of barely sapient animals fucking for the sake of a meaningless existence. As long as we''re still here, we win."
"Oh my GOD, why are you so caught up on the negative part? Yes we''re meaningless and small but as long as we''re here and now- who gives a shit? I certainly don''t. It doesn''t matter if the sun is going to explode if we''re not going to be here to suffer it. Better yet, who cares if we''re so god damn small, there''s people that need to pay bills and care for families"
"Do you really think people want to live a measly existence where the only duty there is to life is to pay bills and work a tiresome job?"
"We already went over this. Yes, life sucks; that''s why you have other goals to distract yourself with. I don''t know how you don''t get that part."
"Oh trust me, I get that part completely. But nevermind my prior points about none of it meaning anything, what about those who''s wants aren''t any good? Those wants who have no moral, ethical, or practical ups. Do they have to suffer for the rest of their lives, knowing they won''t ever sate that need?"
"Not everyone can have what they want. That is a fact of life, and a universal law.
Besides, that''s why I said you need to have other goals."
"What if they''re all bad-"
"Then this guy can just fucking die, I don''t know man, what do you want me to say?"
"I thought you were one to believe that all life is precious."
"Life is precious. But you are delusional if you believe that all lives are precious. It doesn''t need to be muddled with whether a person is based on a race, class, gender, or even usability, it is the simple fact of whether or not they are good and bad. And I know- I know, its not so fucking simple. But when there are clear cases of just pure malice with no positive outcome, there''s no room to debate.
"Hitler was a bad guy. And look where we ended up. If it weren''t for his actions, we wouldn''t be here in the modern age."
"Dude-."
Naota took a deep breath, clenched his fist, and looked up at the sky, praying to the Buddha that he''ll resist the urge to slap the soul out of Kuragari.
After a couple minutes, he finally continued.
"Not everything goes as planned.
And the good guys won in the end."
"They had Nazis working in the ''good guy''s'' space program. Pretty shifty if you ask me."
"The world is layered, and I know that you know this, and I know that you know that I know this. But asking all these facetious questions- I don''t know what you''re getting out of all of this. Joy? A person to finally interact with? You already know that it''s all based on perspective, I know you''re not that dumb.
So let me ask you this, just to cement this silly question once and for all.
If happiness is not the purpose of life, then what makes you think humans- forget the animals for a sec, what makes you think humans will be willing and ready to procreate?"
"To bring pleasure. We are evolved to seek pleasure. We were literally biologically upgraded to derive pleasure from sex, thus we could survive and win this endless race."
"Isn''t pleasure a synonym for happiness, though?"
"It is not a direct definition, no. Pleasure is not happiness-"
"But doesn''t pleasure bring happiness?" asked Naota.
Taberu stared at Naota for a good minute. His purple eyes glowed with vigor.
Both of them felt their hearts pumping as their veins instinctually popped out, letting themselves be known.
Taberu got up and softly smiled. Naota did much the same, concurring with closed eyes and a tilted head.
"GUYS! GUYS! LOOK! NOATA AND KURAGARI ARE FIGHTING!!!" screamed some student, pausing the game to instead focus on a more interesting matter.
The both of them tussled with guttural instincts. No enhancement of spiritual energy. No PsychoPower to use due to their waned brains. No strengthening their bodies with Ki.
No intent to kill, rebut, or prove any point.
Both of the students just had a single phrase stuck in their heads.
"I want to beat the fuck out of you."
So they did.
HEMATOMA
WRITHING IN A LATEX COCOON, IT MUMBLES AND WORMS IN A BOUND EXISTENCE.
THE THRONE OF LIES BESTOWED TO IT, CREAKS AND CRACKS FROM THE WEIGHT OF THEIR ESSENCE.
GNASHING. SPITTING. LAUGHING. DROOLING.
A CAVE DEPRIVED OF SOCIAL INTERACTION; A DISSUASION FROM INFERIOR WANTS AND PETTY "NEEDS."
STRAPPED DOWN BY THE VERY BLACK LEATHER THEIR BODY IS MADE OUT OF.
A SCREENING OF INNOCENT SHOWS PERMENANTLY PLAYS IN FRONT OF THEM.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
IT LIKES THE ONES WITH COLOR.
LEATHER BANDAGES AND DARKENED GAUZE ENCAPSULATES THEIR HEAD.
A PERMANENT APRON AND TRENCH COAT THAT RESEMBLES SKIN MORE SO THAN APPAREL.
GLOVES THAT HAVE NEVER BEEN TAKEN OFF AFTER BEING SOWN ON.
BARE, INNOCENT, UNTAINTED FLESH. COVERED, SO AS TO NOT TO BE TEMPTED OR FACE THE CRUELTY OF THE WORLD.
A MESSY COMPOSITION. AN INCONSISTENT BODY THAT SHIFTS ; BARELY GIMPED BY ITS RUBBER CONTAINMENT.
IT EXCITES, UNKNOWING OF THE TRUTHS NOR OF WHAT IT WANTS.
THEY DO WHAT THEIR TOLD, AS THEY SHOULD.
THAT IS THE ESSENCE OF A SOLDIER AFTER ALL.
「Christmas at the Academy」
2 years ago
10:38 PM
Christmas Eve
Naoki, in his usual garb, walks into Kyouji''s room.
The technophile was frantically choosing shirts before choosing the most colorful one, adorned with various beautiful petals.
"NOAKI- alright thank god you''re here. Tell me, does this shirt look lame as hell?"
Naoki, semi caught off guard, responds
"Umm... no...? Not really?"
"Ok, thanks. Sure hope not..." sighed Kyouji
"Anyway, are you ready for gifts?"
"Damn right I am. Been waiting 365 days for this."
"I agree. Not that anyone knows or could even fathom what I''m into but, I suppose the thought is all that counts..." he said aloud
"..."
(no, no it isn''t)" he whispers under his breath.
"Riiiiiiiiiiiiight. Well, it is early but, it doesn''t hurt to get an early start," replied Naoki.
..
.
They walked down the stairs and enter into the general cafeteria. There, a plethora of other students sipped hot cocoa, told stories, ate food, and enjoyed plenty of other jolly activities.
Akemi and Makoto both walked towards the bottom of the stairs, greeting Kyouji and Naoki.
Akemi wore an adorable green ugly sweater and pajamas. Makoto wore her iconic Tiger onesie and a Santa hat.
Akemi starts.
"Howdy fellas! Glad to see you all here so early. Pretty chilly huh? I must say the food this year is pretty-"
"You look lame as hell dude," interrupted Makoto
Kyouji immediately turns around and kicked the trash can nearby, then stormed up the stairs
"FUCKING HELL- FUCK IT, FUCK IT ALL, ITS ALL ???????????! GGGGGGGGOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDDDDD-"
The rest of his tantrum echoed throughout the stairwell.
The three of them stood silent for a bit.
"..."
"..."
"..."
........
Naoki started.
"So what did you guys get for the other students?"
Akemi replied first.
"I got a lot of people''s clothes this year. It is really cold this year for some odd reason."
"It''s because of climate change" replied Makoto
Akemi audibly chuckled.
"But climate change doesn''t exist! Pahahahaha!"
".....
Anyway, I tried to get everyone something a little more personalized- but seeing as how I don''t really talk to the others, I just got you guys something more in line with your personalities and everyone else... socks."
She shrugged
"Better than nothing I suppose."
Naoki shrugged as well
"I''m broke as shit so its a miracle I was even able to get something for a couple of people."
"Yeah I suppose," concurred Makoto.
Immediately afterwards, everyone felt the voices of the silent receptionist prayers alert their consciousness.
``An unknown cluster of spirits have invaded the Academy''s grounds. The number of spirits seems to be around 16. They all vary in size and strength. Most of them seem to resemble humanoid figures. All students are required to participate. In the Name of the Rising Sun``
Simultaneously, all the students in the Academy groaned.
Naoki complained, "Dude, why do we have to do it? Doesn''t the school have a defense system?"
"Newsflash asshole, we are the defense system" scolded Makoto.
"I know, but that''s so LAME" said Naoki once more.
"I''m here tooooo" butted in Akemi, reaffirming his existence.
All the students rushed outside towards various directions. All the exits flooded with groups of 3s and 4s. Though the Academy held roughly around 100 students, they all made a decent enough barrier around the school. Using their Psychic abilities, they sensed the presence of all these rogue spirits.
Only to be greeted by a gaggle of decrepit creatures...
"..."
Akemi started
"Naoki?"
"Yeah?"
"I''m scared."
Naoki chuckled a bit
"Y''know, I hate to admit it but- I should''ve worn my brown trousers today"
"What- What the hell is up with them?!" yelled Makoto in a perturbed tone.
"They all have... ISSUES"
She wasn''t sure whether to laugh, scream, or cry. Her concentration was so distracted, she couldn''t move her own body.
Until she focused on one of them.
Instantly, her hindrance melted away.
"Hey Naoki, that one looks like you," she said as she pointed at Stubby.
Both Akemi and Naoki shot back a "DUDE ??" straight at Makoto.
She snickered.
"Alright, yeah I''m back. Now, let''s-"
Instantaneously, all of the Yule lads disappeared.
They saw it;
They all saw it.
A blur of rainbow colors and short Nordic men bypassed all of the students that were surrounding the school. Not even the fastest Pillar, nor the smartest Psycho, nor even the craftiest Sorcerer could figure out what happened. Perception blitzed by these manlets, everyone had a near heart attack as they all made sure they were still alive and werent experiencing the after effects of the soul drifting away from their bodies.
Loud clanging noises were heard coming from the cafeteria/kitchen.
Despite being thankful for being alive, everyone groaned as they had to march back towards the kitchen.
There, a handful of the lads were out and about, thrashing the contents of the kitchen. Spoon licker was licking all the spoons, bowl licker was doing much the same, but the key difference being get this: bowls. Skyr gobbler couldn''t find any skyr so he just tried downing the giant pot of boiling hot chocolate, but considering his stature and the sheer weight and temperature of the hot chocolate, he ended up boiling his face and drowning in the gallons of the sweet delicacy. Swinging from cabinet to cabinet was sausage swiper, looking for all the sausages and sausage look-alikes. Sheep Cote Clod couldn''t find any sheep so he just stood around with Window Peeper. Window Peeper and his bowl sized eyeballs stared directly towards Akemi''s soul. Gully Gawk was making himself some tea. Stubby was eating all the pies on the tables... or he would if he was even tall enough to reach. Pot scraper was making a titanic conundrum as he banged and scraped all of the now ruined pots. Meat-hook and his gashful menacing weapon skewered 6 slabs of steak. And then there was candle stealer but nobody gave a fuck about him.
"I don''t... I don''t think the entire school is needed to fight these..." noted Akemi
Makoto sighed and contemplated on what to do in this situation.
After a 5 second ingenious plan, she telepathically scanned throughout the school in search of the Principal.
Hanayama (said Principal) was doing his usual routine of playing Mario Kart, uncaring of what happened inside the school. He caught the notion of someone trying to catch his attention. Annoyed, he reluctantly picked up the signal, and paused his game.
"(What''s up)"
"(Can I take care of this in one fell swoop?)"
"(Is it going to make a mess?)"
"(You already know the answer to that)"
"(Alright...sure... but you students are going to have to clean it up.)"
She growled
"(Fucking- fine.)"
She quit her communication and announced it to her peers.
"Everyone, go look for the other spirits. I got these ones. By the way, we''re all gonna have to cancel our Saturdays this weekend."
One of the students asked, "Why?"
"You''ll see in a minute"
Naoki, Akemi, and a couple other students all passed through the cafeteria and walked up various flights of stairs to scan for the other spirits. The rest of the students kept on searching outside. A minute later, they all heard the sound of an explosion go off where the kitchen was.
"Oh well- of course" sighed Akemi to himself.
"Who else but Makoto!" nudged Naoki.
.
.
.
Naoki and Akemi both walked alongside each other while the other students split off towards the other floors.
There was a rather unending noise where they were at. Thumping about, it grew louder and louder as our two heroes inched closer towards the noise. It sounded like a door yet... the sound was of a small explosion or a wooden baseball bat being broken in half in one thrashing swing. An unceasing rage that was taken out upon furniture. BAM after WACK after SLAM.
Pretty soon, they both stopped in their tracks and made a confused face.
There, at the end of the dark hallway...
Death greeted them.
"What the... fuck is that" hissed Naoki.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
"I...I have no clue" responded Akemi in a concerned tone.
"We should... we should grab someone else... this one seems to be too strong like- come on, his arms are bigger than his BODY!" continued Akemi.
"To hell with that noise, I''m mogging this dwarf" shouted Naoki
In a fit of determination, Naoki sprinted towards the Yule Lad, before bouncing on the walls, and leaping at the last second to deliver a mid air roundhouse kick to the Yule Lad''s face.
Naoki''s shin cracked a thunderous THWACK as it crashed upon the midget''s cranium.
""
Only a simple line of blood dripped down Door-Slammer''s nose.
The gnome proceeded to grab Naoki''s leg the split second he was falling down, before it ragdolled the boy and delivered a meaty left straight towards Naoki''s sternum.
A sound even louder than Naoki''s own head splitting kick was made as his entire body was sent flying towards Akemi.
In a concentrated state, the adrenaline kicked in. Akemi proceeded to dodge to the left.
So here''s the thing about Akemi.
He wasn''t the best at Ki control.
He wasn''t the best at Sorcerery.
He wasn''t the best at PsychoPower.
The masks were meant to be used as a great equalizer; an experiment handed by his sponsor Mr.Mishima. Though the masks are experimental and are more prone to ruining Akemi and the surrounding area he''s in, does that mean that he has to depend on the masks to hard-carry him?
Absolutely not.
Dashing towards the Yule lad, Akemi used telekinesis to make the Yule Lad do the splits, before turning him upside down. Then, he utilized his technique: Shinra fist. An all-rounder technique that uses ki as a basis for the projection, psychopower to actually summon the limb/construct, and sorcery to manifest it into reality, thus, a giant glowing fist made out of spiritual energy appeared. Akemi swung his left hand downwards in a chopping motion; the giant hand did much the same, effortlessly splitting the midget in half.
He turned to face his friend who was currently caved into the wall.
"You know Naoki, you may be better than me in terms of Ki and PsychoPower. However, there''s two simple reasons I won that fight
A. I''m smarter
and B. I''m simply not blinded by my ego" he shot back, pointing at his friend with a cheerful smile.
Naoki, embedded into the wall, gave a bored expression towards his friend.
"Cough- Hey Akemi?"
"Yeah?"
"Suck my fucking dick dude."
.
.
.
Naoki and Akemi both ran around the school halls before hearing loud booming sounds outside the windows. It sounded like heavy machine gun firing coming from several barrels. Shiet- these ghosts er- whatever they are have GUNS now? With caution, both of them peeked out of the window.
The remains of an 8 foot tall gluttonous cat that was as fat as it was hideous, missing half its hairs and looks to be 80 years old (in cat years) laid on the snow. It bled profusely as several bullet holes the size of soda cans were spread around its "body"; or rather, the little scraps and rags of flesh left behind.
And right next to its barely living corpse... was Kyouji!
He wore a new, less colorful dress shirt on top of his skin tight cyberpunk suit. It glowed with several streams and runes that lined throughout his body. If it weren''t for the RGB lights throughout his body, the umbral shade of his suit would''ve made him perfectly blend in with the night time. He wore a computer device that wrapped around his left forearm. It mainly resembled a 90s plastic keyboard, intact with that charismatic and nostalgia charged yellowed out clackity glory. On the corner of the device sat a small chunky square screen with data that only Kyouji could ever understand. Typing away 40 commands per second, the mechanisms that did all the work made themselves known: two drones the size of average human torsos made themselves known, carrying a hefty looking machine gun and a bandolier style magazine that fed into the gun.
For once, he didn''t wear his iconic Specter mask. An ominous helmet that gimped any semblance of humanity that remained in his armored guise. It lacked any lenses yet always knowing the enemy''s location, invisible or otherwise, up close or otherwise, divine, or otherwise. It would scan an enemy''s genetic make up, their abilities, and easily exploitable weaknesses. An exposed rubber brain that squelched endlessly acted as the top of the helmet, providing a false sense of weakness. The only skin that would''ve been visible was the hole that exposed Kyouji''s mouth. And even then, his sadistic sneer in the face of combat resembled anything but a human''s.
Suppose he didn''t need it this time.
Kyouji looked behind him and noticed his two comrades.
"Oh hey you two, didn''t notice you. Man its a shame this happened, I mean look at this, I just changed and this shirt is already ruined" exclaimed Kyouji as he looked down at his bloodied self.
"Holy shit, you should join me in more missions! It''ll be a cake walk with you along!" shouted Naoki.
"By ''cake walk'' I''m assuming you expect me to do 90% of the work"
"And by ''you doing 90% of the work'', I''m assuming you mean your drones right?"
"Yes, the drones I made"
"Then yeah! All of the above"
"...Touch, Naoki-san.
Unfortunately, I''m the head of tech around the school so that''s why I don''t participate in missions since they have me experimenting and troubleshooting 24/7. It would be a fun venture, but maybe in a year or 5 from now."
"But that''s so looooooooooooong. What if I''m dead by then?"
"Well shit dude, not like I can do anything about that ??"
Akemi bumped in.
"I think he meant taking the opportunity to go with him on a mission before anything dangerous happens"
Kyouji made a sarcastic surprised face.
"Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo- REALLY????????"
"Yes, really."
"...
Ugh."
They eventually made their way back towards the front of the school, planning to meet up with Makoto.
The other students scattered throughout and tried to find the last remaining presences.
.
.
.
Outside the now devastated cafeteria, the three of them met up with Makoto. Several other students groaned as they started cleaning up the gallons of blood off the walls while using specific abilities to patch up the destruction as quick as possible because, hell no, they''re not they''re going to waste their Saturday.
"Hey guys" she started.
"Howdy!"
"Sup."
"I''m still mad about your comment but whatever."
Kyouji, Akemi, and Makoto were the closest towards the entrance of the cafeteria door; all of them walked inside until-
THWUMP
Instantaneously, the presence of a being filled with only ire and hate was felt among the students. As if looking at a murderer in court, and only expressing joy at the reflection of what they have done.
A 13 foot tall grotesque man cratered right behind Naoki. His visage horrendous as grease and sweat permeated the leftover rags of clothes he had adorned. His elvish grin spread from ear to ear. The stench of musk and fermented herring made itself apparent. His claws jolly with malice, his teeth jagged to a British degree, his eyes glazed with that methed up fluoride stare. The feeling of being face to face with a Tiger and a Homeless vagabond in the middle of a crack spree mixed together as this single figure embodied both. Dread of "Man". Dread of "Nature".
"??????????" it croaked.
"?????????????????? ??????????" it hissed as its serpentine tongue slithered behind Naoki.
"A-Are you a pedophile" stuttered Naoki, an inch away from soiling his fate.
The creature stared
and replied with a smile.
As Naoki attempted to dodge, the giant snatched him up and squeezed the majority of Naoki''s body with a single hand. A bully squeezing a helpless rat, watching in anticipation, waiting for its eyes to pop out.
The three of them immediately acted out as several other students ran outside and readied their own abilities.
Akemi projected a giant fist and attacked the giant''s groin.
Makoto quickly shot miniscule pressurized missiles towards the giant''s knees and shoulders.
Kyouji scanned the giant.
His goggles whispered out the spirit''s information
``Leppalei, a Norse Giant of Icelandic Christmas folklore``
It continued onwards, instantly sending all the ogre''s information towards Kyouji''s brain.
"How... how the fuck do you even say that" he thought to himself.
"Nevermind that, just need to take this thing out before this kid fucking DIES" he hissed.
Quickly typing away at his wrist computer, Kyouji summoned a crossbow with four bolts in its magazine.
As other students pelted the giant with various abilities, Kyouji concentrated.
Deadshot in his abilities, Kyouji managed to nail a bolt on the ogre''s head... before seemingly missing his three other shots. One landed on the tree behind Leppalei, the other landed to the left of him, and the last one landed a couple inches next to Kyouji''s feet.
Naoki, with his ribs on the verge of being turned to dust, was able to slow the Monster''s mental processing a bit. It was a lot easier to do compared to using telekinesis but in due time, he''ll learn how to use telekinesis while getting crushed to death.
The monster attempted to ignore the several other abilities being peppered upon him, and paid most of his attention to the oddest looking student: Kyouji.
"?????? ????????????" it hissed.
"Yeah."
Reaching to his left hip, Kyouji drew out a futuristic looking saber with an electrical coil that acted as its blade.
"????-??????! ?????? ??????? ???? ?????? ????????? ???? ?????" it grunted, attempting to ward off the other pests by stomping a small quake towards them.
Kyouji tilted his head in a pissed off fashion
Kyouji barked back, "Come close to you? PLEASE, with your stench I''d rather castrate myself with my own nails.
By the way Naoki, brace yourself."
"huff the fu-HAGCK doES THAT MEAN?" struggled Naoki.
Kyouji whacked the crossbow bolt between his feet with his tesla coil sword.
Immediately, the several thousand volts traveled from that bolt, then arced to bolt next to the creature, then arcing to one behind him, finally transferring through to the bolt embedded into the giant''s head. Though the electricity was still going through Naoki since Lappilaopohljhgopohgi held onto him, the fact of the matter is- that''s still several thousand volts striking through the creature''s brain.
Naturally, the Giant let go of the stunned Naoki and dropped dead. An apparent charcoal hole made itself known through the back of the ogre''s skull.
Taberu, by sheer coincidence, was the only adult (besides the principal) who was around. He looked outside to see if the attack was over.
He sipped his coffee.
"...
You guys have fun with this one"
Akemi turned around to Makoto''s sponsor.
"Aren''t you going to do something about the situation? Like help us out?"
Taberu gave a confused look.
"...What? Hell no it''s Christmas dude, I just came for coffee. We step in if its a big deal- this" he pointed
"This is child''s play. Get real dude."
He turned around and fucked off to his goon cave.
"... hey Makoto" asked Akemi
"What''s up"
"I think I know why you are the way you are..."
She turned to him with the most flabbergasted face possible.
"What is that supposed to mean????"
.
.
.
12:13 AM
Naoki was quickly recovered by the medic and was semi naked wearing only a hospital gown.
Everyone else had a quick shower and short change of clothes.
The rest of the other students were back to hanging around, finishing up their half-assed attempt at burying the corpses of the creatures while fixing up the kitchen/cafeteria.
Our 4 students hang around once again near the fireplace, opening up their presents.
"You know Kyouji, despite what I said earlier, I still really liked your shirt. It''s lame but in a cute way, you know?" explained Makoto.
"Oh thanks dude. I will say though, I don''t really care... anymore. I wanted to impress you guys but then I realized, "wait a sec, they already accept me for who I am...
...?
Then why am I doing this for them???
????????
But nevertheless, I still appreciate your comment."
Makoto gave him the oddest stare known to man.
"Ehh, right..."
Eventually, it was Kyouji''s turn to open up his gift.
It was a single one.
A long box that was decently thick. It was wrapped with Minecraft textures because that was the closest thing to "video game" and "technology" they had at the nearest mall.
From: Akemi, Naoki, and Makoto
To: Our favorite freak
He slowly opened up his gift with confusion and anticipation.
It was a $450 small portable grill that was safe (enough) to operate within a room. It had a charcoal setting, a gasoline setting, and an electrical setting. It even had a USB port to connect to the computer for some reason. An air fryer option, a tiny fridge compartment, and best of all, a thermometer to make sure food is properly cooked.
Kyouji looked away as his voice quivered. With a few sniffles and wiping his nose, he had the confidence to look at his siblings once again.
"You guys don''t know anything about technology, nor what I''m interested in yet...
You got this for me and... it''s the only thing I ever wanted. It''s the only thing I didn''t know I needed within my room. It''s... It''s... man.
Thank you guys so much. It means a lot... honestly..." he waivered.
"Ah come on guy, you know we have no idea what you''re talking about when it comes to technology. But at least we know you like grilling" applauded Akemi.
"Don''t get sappy dude. We love you but, cheer up a bit" smiled Makoto as she frazzled Kyouji''s hair.
"What they said. Also, thanks for saving my life back there- quite literally. I appreciate you for being my friend" said Naoki.
"Thank you guys so much. It''s an alien feeling, but knowing that I am loved is... pretty cool."
And there we have it. A cumbersome yet still beautiful Christmas Eve from our boys and girl? from those who''s Grudges Burst and yet- still pause their negativity for those they love.
A Merry, Jolly Christmas from the Grudge Burst cast.
https://youtu.be/BjC0KUxiMhc
Introduction Chapter: Leonard Django
Leonard Django
A handsome, middle-aged looking bronze man standing at a humble 6''4"
An air of confidence always fills the room whenever he enters.
His physique was the closest thing to mesomorphic perfection.
He has slick, black hair and a sharp, refined beard. In all honesty, that''s all that''s needed for his physical appearance since he wears a different outfit everyday. Even the most casual of clothes for him are worth hundreds of dollars; after all, a man is judged not only by his quality of character, but more importantly, the brand that he wears.
He doesn''t think he''s the strongest.
He knows he''s the strongest.
.
.
.
Leonard was sitting down right next to the Principal, Hanayama Ozeki.
More specifically, they were sitting down on comfortable recycled-plastic chairs, at a manufactured beach near the edge of the school. The waves were sometimes controlled by technology, much like any other water park with their wave machines and all. The sand was genuine, sure, though, if a person were to face the opposite direction of the beach, the immersion would be ruined as the forestry and the facility were in plain view. They were staring at the sunset. Both of them sported Hawaiian shirts and comfortable shorts. They sip on their strawberry-mango margaritas, enjoying life.
Oh yeah Naoki was there too.
More specifically, he was uncomfortably popping a squat right in front of the two''s view, staring in sheer disbelief.
Despite knowing Django had worked at the Academy for at least ever since he could remember, it wasn''t until today that Naoki asked:
"How the hell did you even get here?
You sure as fuck don''t look Japanese to me (maybe a little Okinawan, but even that''s a stretch....)."
Django smiled at the question and looked over at Hanayama.
"Isn''t your culture all about respecting the elders and whatnot?"
Hanayama smirks.
"This kid''s a special case."
"Really? I don''t remember him being that great."
"No, as in he''s a special case.
He has the IQ of a rat."
Both Django and Naoki let out an audible "Dude"
One in a semi-exasperated reaction while the other was in a laid back tone. It''s pretty clear which one was which.
"But to answer your question," responded Django, "do you want me to explain it? Or do you want to do it?"
Hanayama chuckles at the prompt.
"Yeah sure, I''ll explain it; it''s too entertaining to pass up
So, back to say around... 20 years ago...? Yeah? Around there, I was on a business trip going to Las Vegas."
"Las Vegas? What business did you have there," asked Naoki.
"In all honesty, I don''t remember. Hell, I think I made some random bullshit excuse to go there. Anyway, I was hanging around, enjoying myself (as one does), experiencing the rancid American culture shock (as one does), and it was just that for around... a week or so."
As Hanayama explained, he whipped out a cigar out of his shirt pocket and sparked one up.
He took a long drag, reminiscing of his younger years; despite him being around 90 years old at the time.
"I remember one night, I was eating out at some expensive steakhouse, drinking hard liquor, having a good old time, the usual. But Throughout my dinner, I heard a ruckus around the restaurant. Since the area I was in was the VIP section, staff didn''t give a shit; we paid enough money to have our little area to ourselves, untainted by brats, families and most importantly, the poor. As long as we had enough money, we could act however the fuck we pleased; so we did. Funnily enough, despite how old I look, I know how to party, believe you me. Sidetracking aside, I heard this commotion on the other side of the area. Since I was finished with dinner and buzzed beyond hell, I decided to check it out.
Lo and behold- THIS asshole," said Hanayama as he pointed at Django, "was armwrestling. For cash! I remember it clearly, some dipshit wearing casual Hawaiian clothes, a dorky ass bucket hat, some dollar store flip flops and sunglasses managed to meander his way into the VIP section. Drunk as hell, no less. And yet he still wasn''t kicked out by then. A bunch of haughty college kids were lying on the floor, writhing in pain as they held their forearms and wrists. Business executives were drunk enough to feel themselves up and take a roll at it. You can already guess what happened to them.
So that''s when I said ''you know what, to hell with it.'' I was already on Cloud 9 with the amount of alcohol in me, so I effortlessly threw the guy that was about to challenge Django off of his chair and took his seat. Everyone had their eyes on us. He says to me
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
''Alright old timer, here''s the current rate: $40 if I win, $200 if I los-''
And I cut him off.
''I have $4,000 worth of cash on me right now. I''ll bet it all, if you also bet all your money in.''
He looked at me with this stupid expression."
Django cut Hanayama off.
"I will admit it, I was flabbergasted. Half of my reaction was genuine confusion, while the other half of me thought ''EASY MONEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"
Hanayama took back the reins of the story.
"He looks at me and says
''I don''t have that much on me-''
''So you''re pussying out, is that what I''m hearing? Because that sounds like what I''m hearing''
And let me tell you, when I said that-
he looked pissed.
''Your loss old man''
So we gripped our hands and stared each other down. Not going to lie, he was a little sweaty but, to describe it as intense would be an understatement. I could feel that with just one quick quip, and the fact that a frail old geezer was challenging his turf, I struck a nerve. At first we were doing that thing where both guys stiffen up their own arms so as not to budge an inch- yet we stressed our muscles so hard, our elbows began to dig into the table. He spoke some shit under his breath, a compliment but dished out in a scolding way. After a few seconds of not budging, we did the next thing that every guy does: go all out. Still, stalemate. He was gritting his teeth in frustration, but I''m a big enough man to admit- damn, so was I. And at the very next moment- and this will always be stuck in my memory- we finally infused our muscles with a simple ounce of Ki.
We sensed each other doing that.
We looked up, wide eyed, and said the same thing at the same time
''You-''
''-FUCKER''
We headbutted each other as our Ki skyrocketed. The ground beneath us began to tremble as it could barely contain our strength. Nevermind the ground, the damn table disintegrated the moment we unleashed our Ki. It was an awe-inspiring spectacle, I''ll tell you what. Even those who couldn''t fathom the supernatural could feel the intensity between us; the air was so dense and tangible, it might''ve felt like a train colliding with another train to them...
Hehehehheh... good times... good times...."
"..."
"..."
"..."
The three of them stood there in silence for a brief moment.
Until Naoki snapped the rest of them back to reality.
"....
.....Ok?
That''s it???? Like- w-what does this have anything to do with him working here????"
"Oh right, right," said Hanayama, finishing the story off.
"In all honesty, I don''t know what happened after that. It was such a stalemate for an unnecessarily long time that we decided to win via rule of cool rather than true strength or endurance since- we could go days and we''d still be there. So we drank and drank and drank until somebody technically won via letting go but, again, we were so inebriated that... yeah the night just ended there-"
"Oh my GOD, I don''t care about you old men trying to act young again, just tell me how the hell he got here!"
Hanayama snapped back at Naoki.
"Tch, you''re really fucking annoying ??
But to finally answer your question, the next day I found out that this guy was broke and was living alone in a dinky ass motel, barely scraping by. Seeing as how he was living a miserable life, I had no reason to suspect he was a part of any organization that we didn''t like to associate with... or any organization for that matter ??. And since he was so strong, I decided to just bring him back here along with me."
Naoki stared at Hanayama.
"So-
you kidnapped a random American?"
"Yes."
Django finally interjects
"Now, now, to be fair, I was 55 years old by then, so calling it kidnapping would be a little disingenuous. He offered me a job, and with nothing to really incentivize me to live in Nevada anymore (besides gambling and drinking), I decided to have life guide me towards the next venture, so I said ''yeah, sure.'' Granted, there were a couple hiccups here and there, like the glaring detail of the language barrier that we both didn''t think about since... he spoke in English the entire time and I was too aloof to even process what was even going on so, that was annoying. But five years later, I think I got the hang of your guys'' language. See? I clearly got better."
"Eh, 8/10" responded both Naoki and Hanayama.
Satisfied with an answer (albeit a long one), Naoki remembered one last detail that he forgot to ask.
"Wait, if you were 50 years old back then, and you''re like in your 70s by now... why the hell do you look so young?"
Django smiled, took off his glasses, and shot a finger gun towards Naoki.
"Ki mastery; with enough practice, we get to control everything about our body.
I can sense you know a bit of Ki too so, you''ll get the hang of it eventually :)"
"Cool..."
Silence broke between them until Hanayama commanded Naoki to go somewhere else since he was blocking the view.
"Damn..." thought Django as Naoki left
"That kid really is annoying ??"
Origin: Akemi Kishimoto
Present day.
5''8". Firm and square. Rigid on the outside, mellow on the inside. An 18 year old sorcerer from the academy sporting a black biker jacket with small yet visible tatters here and there. As usual, he rarely wore anything other than black, though his style has matured as some red highlights sparsely lined his outfit.
He was on lunch duty that day, serving scoops of delicious joyslop to the students and faculty alike. He volunteered. With a bright smile on his face, he talked to his peers who were also on the serving line, making banter and whatnot.
Near the end of serving duty however, came Naota Sen, one of the staff members within the academy. A 6''2'''' tall Japanese man with a muscular, balanced physique. Despite being very vascular, he wasn''t a harrowing tower of meat and strength like Django, but more so a toned, approachable guy. He always wore an indigo tank top. It seemed he always wore aviator sunglasses, even when indoors. Unlike some pompous handsome mentor, it wasn''t for any means of concealment rather, simply forgetting he was wearing them in the first place. Overall, the man''s attire seemed no different than a regular guy going to the gym. Though it was apparent he had black hair, the hairstyle is barely ever seen since, much like the sunglasses, Naota always wore baseball caps; it seems the guy has a fetish for summer wear. Looks aside, Naota always carried a soft and laid back demeanor to him. Serious, not in a stern way, but more in a friendly, to-the-point type of way with a few jokes here and there to lighten up the mood.
Naota smiled as he presented his tray towards the teenager.
"Howdy Akemi, haven''t seen you in a while. Are you good?"
Akemi looked up and gave a genuine smile. Even though Naota was a lot closer to Naoki, and Akemi rarely spent time with the staff in general, Akemi held deep respect for Naota. He is after all, the one who made Akemi open up to the light.
.
.
.
Flashback.
Four years ago.
Before Akemi was righteous and well mannered, before Mishima took him in as a sponsee, before the three masks, the maturity, and the close friendships, Akemi was 14 years old.
Much like 80% of the Academy''s students, Akemi was an orphan bought under the table, given an artificial name, and who''s existence wasn''t evident on paper.
Realizing all of this, naturally, the young Akemi was frustrated. He rebelled against the strict code of conduct within the academy as well as the social norms of the country. Plenty of staff talked to him and tried to get through to him, but he always whipped out the schpeel of "Oh I see, I just don''t have a father figure, so its hard for me to understand" and "I am just so depressed because my life kinda fucking sucks" and "I know this is the eighth time this week that I attempted to burn a room down, but I promise that I have seen the errors in my ways." He often "trained" with other students and went all out every time. When confronted with the fact that most, if not, all of the students he sparred with were younger than him, he always rebutted with it being: A. A coincidence that the only ones available were people who were years younger than him, and B. it serves to toughen them up either way. A few of the older people in the staff laughed and agreed with his philosophy. A couple others saw through him, but through new rules within the academy that they themselves pushed for, they could do very little about.
Back then, if a student like this were to act out (which wasn''t rare), they''d either be: socially shunned and sent out on an ostracized training regime to one of the mountain stations for a year. Alone. Or, they''d get beat up on the spot by a teacher; which was a common thing regardless of punishment or not. But due to modernization and Japanese customs slowly withering away, the social approach was adopted and still fresh during Akemi''s period as a middle school student.
Much like today, in terms of apparel he always stuck to wearing dark clothes. In terms of mannerisms though, he used to be a walking black hole of charisma and positivity. He openly mocked people who met his gaze, and sometimes even responded to simple interactions like an accidental bump with unrelenting sheer brutality. Even the interactions between him and his elders were always sour. Whether it be an older bully who abused Akemi when he was younger, or anyone who meant well, he''d refuse to let his feelings waver in broad daylight, and would dedicate his time to inconveniencing them as much as possible. And if they looked happy, he''d do it again.
Revenge often made him feel empty and had little effect in terms of making him feel better;
Thus, he''d try harder the next time. In his eyes, of course the reason he didn''t feel satisfied was because the vengeance was too tame.
The last day of his short-dicked reign was when he sparred with Naoki.
Naoki may lack a few neurons, sure, but he has more than enough abilities to capitalize and keep an even ground with his friends.
Back then however,
12 year old Naoki, was, to be blunt,
a shrimp.
He had only been training under Naota for around a year or less, and even then, he decided to take Naoki''s training a bit easy since he was still only a kid; he''d jump the difficulty spike soon, but for now, it was quite tame.
Naoki knew how to utilize Ki to a fair extent. He''d be able to hold his own against an average adult. He also knew how to levitate a couple objects above the ground, and maybe toss them at a whopping speed of 0.4 meters a second. And on a good day, maybe be able to make an opponent see a shadow person in the corner of their eye for a split second.
That''s about it.
In the meantime, Akemi was an average all-rounder, sure. However,
He was an average all-rounder with two more years of experience.
Akemi dragged Naoki into one of the sparring rooms and had his way with him for a good two hours or so.
"To cull weakness" was his justification for doing so.
.
.
.
It was raining.
Two hours had passed, and Naoki limped out of the room with a couple fractures, a black eye, a ruined nose, and an arm that was bent in a way that it shouldn''t have.
Akemi walked out with a couple bloody scratches and a satisfied ego.
"Damn,
that felt good."
.
.
.
Naturally, Naoki whined to Naota. Sen ran over to him and carried him over to the healing station, demanding for Naoki to explain what happened. The teacher gripped on Naoki''s shoulder in contemplation of what to do. Of course, Naoki screamed like a banshee, so Naota apologized since he didn''t realize he was accidentally hurting Naoki.
After Naota heard from Naoki''s perspective, he immediately left the room and stormed straight to Akemi''s dorm.
The teacher, fuming, kicked Akemi''s door down to the point where half of the school heard it.
"You. Come with me."
Akemi, who was sitting near his computer, took a couple seconds to react. He kept on playing until he died. He finally looked back at Naota with a nonchalant and bored expression
"Aight."
They walked down aimlessly through the hallways. Through corridors, past the somber windows, down some stairs, even circling around the sector a couple of times. Akemi even asked "are you doing this to purposefully waste my time?"
"Yes."
Though confused, Akemi was at least glad he was graced with an answer after all this boring silence.
After 45 minutes of walking, they stopped in front of a janitor''s closet.
"Go. Sit down." commanded Naota.
Akemi sauntered in and sat on a bucket. Naota did much the same, after he closed the door. He didn''t turn on the lights.
Naota stared at the student in front of him; Akemi felt it.
There was an awkward silence between the two as they both endured this staring contest in the dark.
After a couple minutes, Naota began.
"So what''s your problem? Hm? What''s your deal; why are you doing these things."
"Because I felt bored." responded Akemi
"Tah! Yeah, sure."
Akemi furrowed his brow and shrugged
"I did! I''m serious."
"So Naoki didn''t do anything to you."
"No. Welllll-besides being weak of course. That I had to correct."
"And so you did so by beating the shit out of someone younger than you?"
"Yes. It''s training. That''s what we''re here for, right? That''s what we''re being kept alive for. You guys literally buy children from orphanages, ripping them away from the chance of leading a normal life, and instead force them to fight spirits just for what? For sick pleasure? I sure as fuck think so. Am I right or am I right."
"Half right. We do it to protect the country, but yes, you''re technically correct."
"Well, yeah, there you go."
"But answer me this-
isn''t beating someone younger than you a sign of a weak person?"
"Well if Naoki would be able to hold his ground, then he wouldn''t be weak since he technically beat someone who''s stronger than him."
"But if you won, wouldn''t you be the weak one since you lost to someone weaker than you?"
Akemi''s eye twitched; his voice wavered into a deeper, harsher tone.
"But that didn''t happen, so you lose."
"Hm. I see." chuckled Naota in suppressed tone.
Another awkward staring contest occurred. Two minutes passed. Five minutes passed. Eight minutes passed.
Akemi interrupted the silence
"Can I go now?"
"No."
"I have to pee."
"No you don''t."
"Do you want me to pee, right here, right now?"
"If you want to do so, there''s a cup back there in the corner. Pretty sure some of the students use it whenever they''re in a rush."
Akemi wrinkled his nose at the response.
Another two minutes passed.
Another five minutes passed.
This time, Naota picked the conversation back up.
"I don''t get you. You clearly see that most of the people around you went through the same things as you did. You use what happened to you as an excuse rather than as a means of getting stronger. You weaken yourself every time you attempt to look strong. It''s childish, really. I just- I don''t understand you. And before you nail me by going you dont know what im going through, yes- yes I do. Ive been brought up by this system as well, I know how it gets. I was a hormonal teenager once too. I know what its like to feel loss. I know how rough it gets. I know what its like to have pressure choke you for years. I know you''re only fourteen years old. But, how na?ve and sorry do you have to be for yourself?"
"Beats me."
Akemi smiled, thinking he''d just beat another person in his wake. It''s always the pseudo-intellectual adults who always played armchair-psychologists that pissed him off the most. Though he couldn''t beat them physically, beating them at their own game always tasted better.
Naota looked down in a disappointed manner. He accepted what he had to do, but he still felt guilty.
.
.
.
The silence broke.
"You win. No matter how much we try to talk to you, no matter how hard the rules are in your favor, no matter how much I- we want to help you, you always push, push, push away. It doesn''t matter if it''s me, another student your same age, or Nyorai himself, you always cocoon yourself in this shell of self-pity and anger. That''s no way to lead a life, however at the end of the day, though you''ll die sad and alone, it''s your life, and I can accept that. Who am I to judge how a person lives? Tch. Fine, that''s fair. What I can''t accept however, is taking that negativity out on others who don''t deserve it. I can philosophize with you as much as I want, but I know you won''t change. Not by talking, no. You do what you do under the guise of training, but everyone can see through you. You picked on someone younger than you; so that''s what I''m going to do."
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Akemi smiled softly as he registered another win under his ego.
"Hm.
...
Wait, wha-"
Naota got up, grabbed onto Akemi''s shoulder, gripped through the shirt and latched onto the folds of Akemi''s skin. In less than a blink of an eye, a knee was delivered through Akemi''s stomach, making a visible stretch rupture through Akemi''s back. The teenager vomited all over the floor as well as on Naota''s pants. With a grimace, Naota switched his grip from the folds of Akemi''s skin to the brats'' hair, yanking him up to a standing position. The teenager, frustrated that he was caught off-guard by Naota, attempted to hit a surprise headbutt against the teacher. But even the teenager, with the entire might of his body, on top of his skills with Ki- was still no match for Naota''s right forearm.
"Come on, don''t tell me you''re going easy on me," taunted the adult.
As the teenager attempted to kick and punch and flail and slap and dodge, against the menace in front of him, Naota kept his grip on Akemi''s hair. The master utilized his height advantage, lifted the teenager off of the ground and proceeded to swing Akemi''s entire body through the custodial door; with one hand no less.
Akemi splat on the wall, before sliding down and landing on his neck. His bladder already blew its load the moment he flew through the janitor''s door.
People were watching.
"At least you got the hang of Ki retainment; that made it easier to hold onto your hair so that it wouldn''t rip off in clumps. Thanks for the grip though," mocked Naota.
Huffing and puffing, trying to ignore the piss stains on his pants, Akemi tried to bumrush Naota with a peek-a-boo style defense. Shifting from side to side, Akemi made the motions of a typical, perfected Dempsey roll; marching forward with vigor and rage. Flow like water; strike like a hurricane, move like a river, quick as a drop and swift as a-
Naota backhanded Akemi''s right cheek, making the teenager stagger backwards for a couple feet until he was just walking backwards down the hall; only to end up flat on his ass.
Naota stepped out of the janitor''s closet, looked to his right so as to spot his opponent, smiled, then waved.
"At least give me some room to fight, geez" chuckled Sen, cracking his neck while rolling his shoulders.
"Damn I''m getting old" he whispered to himself.
Unsure whether or not he was on the brink of tears, or ready to blow up the school, Akemi struggled to get up. He took a deep breath. And for a split second, he pondered on what choice to make.
.
.
.
He chose the latter.
The student readied his fists by his hips, akin to a Karate stance. He took a deep breathe and steeled his body. Ki and Magic flared up the entire hall. Students gazed in awe. Sure, some of them were older and stronger than Akemi, but it was much like a school fight. Yes, they were all honed to fight supernatural beings and spar against each other, even to the extreme degrees. But this.
This was genuine, concentrated, unapologetic malice, funneled through direct concentration. For a moment, despite the humiliation and the pain, Kishimoto forgot where he was, who he was, and instead, focused on the sparse few seconds he had when entering the zone. Tapped in one''s own element, gaining mojo, despite the snowball of Akemi''s momentum in the fight (if it could even be labeled as such) being reversed at Mach speeds, Akemi somehow managed to not let it get to his head, and instead, channeled his energy straight into this attack.
"???????????? ??????????: ?????????????? ??????"
For the first time since this fight started, Naota''s eyes widened.
"ah
ah
AH-"
In front of the Karate posing teenager were two averaged sized fists that glowed with fiery vigor; a manifestation of Akemi''s strength. With steady and swift execution, Akemi raised his cocked-back fist from his hip, extending it towards his target as a karate strike. He then raised the other, alternating between the two. One hand starts from the hip then is sent out as a punch; the punch''s recoil is sent back into a cocked position, and awaits its turn. One. Two. Each time Akemi punched, the fist that was projected exploded outwards and careened down the hall towards Naota. His body was the hammer, the projections his bullets. Bang. Bang. Bang. Akemi striked, and striked and striked, recycling the blowback of each of his punches until it perfectly evolved into a machine gun''s mechanism. Bang. And then bang. Bang. Bang. Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang BAng Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang BANg Bang Bang BAng BANg BANG BANg BANg BANg BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG. Despite the process and execution of the technique taking an hour''s worth within Akemi''s perception of time-
Only four seconds had actually passed in the real world.
In little time, Akemi was already sending a barrage of spiritual fists at the same rate as that of an M249 Machine Gun''s rate of fire.
The culmination of the delinquent''s essence as a person. A focused, wrathful mind. A toned, strong body. A technique that was a literal projection of his actions. This was Akemi Kishimoto''s results.
Going back to Naota, wide-eyed and mouth agape, he finally let out what was intended from the beginning.
"ah
ah
AH-
Choooo!"
Despite the hundreds of magical hazards coming his way-
he sneezed.
Nonchalantly, Naota looked up, bored, and proceeded to do what he did best.
With a stern expression, Naota stared at the onslaught that came his way. Not all of the fists were precise enough to accurately hit Naota; some of them weaved and whizzed past him. Perhaps a few of the projectiles hit another student in the background, but at that point, that''s on them for getting hit in the first place. Meanwhile, the projectiles that did manage to be accurate enough to hit Naota were all swiftly slapped away with measured, patient movements. Ki technique: deflection.
As Sen marched towards Akemi, he grew increasingly tired and frustrated at the situation. Though, he made sure not to let his feelings be known by his opponent.
"(Let''s end this)" thought Naota to himself.
Sen immediately evaded past the bullets in a straight line with minimal effort or movements. In aBlink, the teacher blitzed Akemi, with a meaty punch to the stomach, making the same visible stretch on Akemi''s back from the ferocity of the punch, and carried the kid with his fist, down the hall until the momentum finally carried over to Akemi''s body and launched him to the end of the hall''s wall.
"Jeez, Naoki got done by this?
I should really start going hard on the boy if that''s the case," said the teacher.
Now to be clear, despite what Naota was doing, he didn''t enjoy it. He took no pleasure in hurting the weak or trampling on other people''s feelings. He had a secure enough ego to not delve into such trivial matters. However, in these specific cases, he only did so because
A. Physical combat may bring immediate results, but Psychological warfare whittles people down more securely. Unless it''s severe physical damage, people can simply heal from the wounds. It''s the psychological trauma that truly makes people hurt.
B. It was all to prove a point.
Akemi struggled to get up. He gasped and twitched and was barely able to stand in a hunched over position.
"Y..You''re a hypocrite" muttered the wrecked kid.
"Am I?" responded Naota.
"Yes. huff, you''re proving my point exactly."
Sen stared at the brutalized kid for a moment before finally responding.
"What was your point exactly? I don''t intend on wasting time here. Not that there''s really much to discuss here anymore. And besides-"
Naota walked over to Akemi, morphing his lighthearted, jeering face with a more accurate depiction of how he really felt.
A cold expression took over the teacher.
"-I thought you weren''t much for philosophy."
With chills down his spine, Akemi infused what little amount of Ki he had left, and circled all around his executioner. But no matter how many times he ran around, how fast he went, or what direction he shifted-
Naota always faced him with a permanent straight forward stance. Like a player circling around a DOOM enemy; Naota was simply, permanently locked on.
"Enough of this," demanded Naota.
At the time that Akemi registered what Naota had said, said teenager was already getting wailed on by uppercuts and hooks. Every time Akemi folded over from a hook to the stomach, Naota would greet the delinquent''s chin with an uppercut; every time Akemi waived from getting his head sent backwards, Naota would greet the opening with a meaty hook to the stomach.
Blood splattered all over Naota, the walls, and of course, Akemi himself. Sen''s face couldn''t get more serious. An expression of contempt and regret yet, he knew there was no other way.
Akemi on the other hand was barely conscious. It was a feat in itself to take this much punishment, and still have the cajones to fight back; let alone stand up. Liquified intestines, several hematomas all over his body, and an ego that was at it''s breaking point; "Akemi" was barely present at the moment.
After a minute or so of molly-whopping the kid, Naota let Kishimoto''s body plop down to its knees for a brief second.
"Got anything to say?" asked Naota with a sullen voice.
Barely grasping the last roots of anger within himself, Akemi searched deep into his soul. His shell cracked and oozed with vulnerability. Using all of his strength, he briefly pondered which course of action would be right in this situation.
Both students and faculty stared at the scene. Even if they wanted to do anything (though let''s be honest, none of them wanted to), they would rather see things through in this specific scenario. Was there in fact, merit in the power of traditional correction?
After what felt like minutes, Akemi finally answered his wise choice
"...Fuck....
...you..."
"Hm."
Naota grabbed the teenager by the hair, slammed his fist into Akemi''s nose so hard it embedded itself into his face. The impact was so grand, it launched him back a couple feet. The kid of course writhed and wriggled in pain on the floor.
Naota proceeded to take a deep, wavering breath. He finally took off his sunglasses, and walked over to the barely functioning kid, propping him up against the wall in a sitting position. The teacher then proceeded to softly grab Akemi''s nose and pull it back out so as to reset it back into its original position. There, only Akemi saw Naota Sen''s eyes. Red pupils with a softness to them. Reaching from the bottom of his heart, Naota said his emotions aloud. He expressed a sad, gentle smile.
"If you''re going to dish it out...
You''d better be ready to take it."
On the brink of tears, it only took fourteen years of negativity (and getting the shit beat out of him), for Akemi to finally realize a major lesson in life. His brothers. They literally shared his pain. What reason was there to condescend against them? Why push away those around him when they were the closest thing to positivity that he''d ever reach. Why? Why. Why indeed. If only children weren''t so stupid. That''s life.
"I''m sor-
Before Akemi could finish his sentence, he saw pitch black.
Naota proceeded to undo the action of fixing the kid''s nose. An unintentional consequence was that he also un-did the rest of Kishimoto''s face.
Nevertheless, upon recuperating in the healing station, Akemi also reflected on his actions. He knew his social life was practically shattered, as well as his ego. Nevertheless, he decided to be the opposite of his past self for once. Even in the most humiliating and awful circumstances, he, for once, tried to see the positives in the scenario. Easier said than done, of course, but after apologizing profusely to Naoki and the rest of his younger peers, and surprised to see that even one of them managed to forgive him, he felt welcomed in this new philosophy. Granted, not all of the people he apologized to accepted; there are traumas far worse than physical scars, but for the meantime, he tried to be at peace. And though he may act as a saint, not all of the hatred within his heart has been expulsed. Much like any sorcerer, there is a permanent deep contempt for spirits; especially those who have murdered a close friend. And seeing the school allow a couple exceptions loose boiled his temper. Nevertheless, he tries. In the end though, he realized another lesson, aside from the major one that Naota taught. From that experience alone, he recognized another underrated yet important truth in life as well. No matter how strong a person may think they are-
there will always be a bigger man.
.
.
.
"Are...are you ok?" asked Naota.
Akemi had been staring off in space for the past 15 seconds; drool seeped down to the rice he was serving.
"Is... is he having a stroke?" asked Naota to Jungseong, who was standing right next to him.
"Why are you asking me ??"
After a quick tap to the forehead from Naota, Akemi snapped back to reality.
"Oh- yeah! Sorry about that, here you go sir! I know you like your servings extra meaty."
Akemi scooped up an extra large portion of rice from directly beneath him. He happily plopped it down on Naota''s tray.
"Th...Thanks... I guess" responded the teacher. Of course he didn''t want to hurt Akemi''s feelings so, he just went with it.
.
.
.
Akemi often reminisced about what happened to him, and even does a yearly ritual where he profusely apologized to Naoki.
"Dude you''re so fucking weird ??"
"I know, I know, but like, come on, at least take the offering."
Akemi would often raid Naoki''s room by planting a bunch of candies and handy trinkets.
"A gift is fine like, gimme Hershey''s White Chocolate but-
this is too much ??"
"It''s the least I can do to pay you back after all those times."
"Oh come on bro, get over it. I sure as fuck did. I know you were an asshole back then but like- we were kids;
We were ALL assholes. We were all sad and shit but now that we''ve grown up its like- why are you still on this dude? I don''t care anymore ??"
"Yes, yes, you keep saying this but, you already know this won''t change."
"Yeah, wasted words, I know. And besides, I feel a lot more comfortable about what happened now."
"Why, because Naota disciplined me?"
"HE DID? Oh my...
based.
But no. I feel a looooot more comfortable now because-
I know I''d win against you."
Naoki shot a cocky smile towards his friend.
Akemi let out a soft chuckle
"Psh, if i''m being honest, I disagree but, I guess that''s a question that won''t be answered."
Akemi smiled softly.
"...
Man, back then you were an asshole-
but now you''re just fucking boring"
"DUDE-"
And that''s the way the cookie crumbles.
Average day: The Taoist experience in cooking
Couple months ago
It was a drab day in Spring. It was raining outside. Naoki was walking around the school. Seeing as how he had finished his classes for the day, and was really bored, he decided to hit up Kyouji''s room.
"(I wonder what he''s doing right now...)" he thought to himself.
"(Probably advancing on those machine schematics he told me about a while ago... either that or the spirit summoning program that he''s been working on for years now... or lunch...)"
After roaming the hallways for a bit, Naoki finally reached Kyouji''s room. Before entering, he noticed that the blue glow that would typically be seen underneath the door''s little "window" had been blocked off by a thick, dark gray smog.
"What the?"
In a semi-worried haste, Naoki kicked the door down and let a blast of smoke escape out of the room.
There, his older brother-figure lay defeated on the ground.
Naoki ran up to Kyouji, fireman carried him down the hall where the smog could no longer catch them, and laid the victim down on his back.
"Kyouji! Dude, what happened?"
"Akwhedlkffggggghhhffffffeeeeellllll"
"...HUH?"
"The...I...Idoneschmokedthebeefzazatooharrrrdddd."
"...What are you saying???"
.
.
.
After a couple of students calmed the smoke down, Naoki waited for Kyouji to catch his breath.
"Alright so..." started Naoki. "What happened?"
"I failed, that''s what happened" responded Kyouji in a rather sour and stifled mood.
"That''s...not a concrete answer, but it''s a start..."
"I was grilling lunch in my room-"
"Naturally."
"Yeah- and for once, I was using a skillet instead of the griddle this time because lord forbid I try something new."
"Was it Chicken?"
"Yes, it was actuall- how did you know?"
"The smell of your first burnt cooking failure sticks with you..." responded Naoki as he looked down in somber remembrance of his own cooking failure (it happened the week prior).
"Projecting, but okay. Anyway, I tried getting all fancy by trying something new and one thing led to another and in the end... it failed..."
"Hm. Yeah, it happens to everyone, don''t sweat it Also what happened to the fire alarms? Shouldn''t we be getting bombarded with blaring noises?"
"I disabled them. The principal knows it''s me so he already knows not to do anything."
"Oh- right. I forgot you can just do that because it''s... you"
"Anyway going back, I understand what you''re saying but-GOD"
Kyouji gritted his teeth as he pounded the ground.
"I did EVERYTHING RIGHT. I don''t GET IT."
Kyouji started gnawing on his right hand''s proximal phalanges.
Naoki stared at Kyouji with a neutral expression. Not in a disdainful or sympathetic way, rather in a "I''ll wait 5 minutes before I''ll say anything" type of way.
After 5 minutes of calming down passed, Kyouji re-slicked his frazzled hair back, dusted himself off, took a deep breath and stood back up once more.
"Well, that''s annoying. As much as i''d like to remake myself some lunch, my ego is hurt as is, and i''d prefer to eat food now instead of waiting another twenty minutes. Even if it means going the ''Makoto-way'' and shamefully cooking myself the edible plastic known as Cup Ramen..."
A voice echoes past the hall. "I heard that."
"We know" they both said in unison.
"But you know what?" Continued Kyouji. "I''ll just take this as a learning experience..."
"Exactly dude" responded Naoki. "No matter how experienced you are, on top of how experienced you think you are, especially within the realm of hobbies compared to the actual talented ''skills'' that you possess, you''re still only human. And face it dude, we''re still young. Instead of comparing yourself to grillmasters who have been doing this for longer than we''ve been alive, it''s just a fluke. It all happens to us. Chin up guy, it''s not that big of a deal."
Kyouji looked back at Naoki and forced a smile.
"Heh... yeah... I guess you''re right. Now, how about that Ramen for lunch. I''m lightheaded as is, so how about I eat before I pass out again" chuckled Kyouji.
"Tch, of course dude."
Throughout the entire walk back to the cafeteria, Naoki noticed Kyouji''s clenched fist.
Naoki kept up his cheesy demeanor. Yet the knot in his chest felt otherwise.
"(Oh Kyouji No matter how hard you try to keep your cool, you can''t fool me)."
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
A couple weeks afterwards.
It was a bright and beautiful day. The sun was radiating it''s contagious joy more than usual. After weeks of constant rain, the heated payoff commenced. The green grass dried from its prior state of mud. The birds were chirping vigorously. Kyouji was outside with his above-average charcoal grill.
"I have an hour and a half to enjoy myself."
For the first time in a while, he smiled.
He lit up a cigarette, inserted earbuds into each of his ears, began playing some emotional punk music, the ones where teenagers in the 90s screamed into the mic with little actual vocal talent, and began prepping the grill.
He didn''t know what it was. He knew he had work to do, and despite being tired, his body didn''t miss a beat in putting on his usual tank top, jeans, and boots combo. He worked in the lab for a couple hours and despite feeling physically tired already, he still looked forward to the rest of the day.
As the coals were heating up, he ripped open all of the steak packages and stared.
"Black Pepper, Pink Salt, Cajun, Kosher Salt, Chicago Style, and Adobo..."
Despite making all the possible combinations within his mind, calculating the salt levels, the umami percentiles, the aesthetic, the synergies, despite it all, he still felt as if something was missing...
"..."
He whipped out his phone.
"Uh, hello?" picked up Naoki.
"Are you hungry right now?"
"...Only a little bit..." responded Naoki. The background noise was filled with shuffling fabric. "Why what''s up?" continued Naoki.
"I''m in a good mood. Come outside, you''ll season your own steak."
"Woah shit, that''s one hell of a breakfast but I''m not complaining. What type is it?"
"Filet Mign-"
"Be there in 2"
"Bitchin'' "
In a minute and 13 seconds, Naoki walked all the way from his room to where Kyouji stood.
"Did you...walk all the way here?" asked Kyouji.
"...Yeah?"
"In less than two minutes."
"....yyyyyeeaaahhhhh???"
"I don''t think that''s how that works."
"Uh, I specialize in Ki remember. My walking speed is like- a lot of people''s running speed"
"...You are one hell of a character," chuckled Kyouji.
"?????????"
"Come on now, these steaks won''t flavor themselves"
"They kinda do but, you''re right, I''d prefer if they had a bit more... spice.... eh? ...eh?"
Despite Kyouji''s usual response, this time he actually wagged his finger and smiled.
"You know... I actually kinda liked that one."
"...the hell happened to you dude?"
Kyouji stared at the sun.
"I don''t know. But I think we''re going to find out real soon."
"... ok dude, you''re actually starting to freak me out."
Kyouji looked back at Naoki and gave a joking squint.
"Shut the hell up dude-" Kyouji pulled out one of his earbuds and tossed it at Naoki. "-and put this on."
Naoki, in a grossed out manner quickly cleaned any visible ear mucus from the ear bud and put it on.
The next song came up
Despite it not being Naoki''s cup of tea, the song itself was inherently good. Coupled with Kyouji''s rare yet infectious smile, it wasn''t long until they both started head banging to the song''s beat.
Pretty soon, as they both poured the coals and seasoned their steaks to their preferred tastes, they began dancing and grooving alongside each other.
In pretty quick fashion, the steaks cooked to savory colors. The grill marks tattooed its innocent and raw flesh. The seasonings glistened and encrusted the broadsides. Beautiful red, brown, black, and gold marked each steak in unique patterns. Perfect amount of marbling on each slab. So thick and so rich it felt as if they were grilling chunks of greek pillars. A chewy, bloody, thick, pungent aroma filled the air; said aroma was so dense, it tricked the brain into believing the person was already eating.
"Oh my god..." wavered Kyouji aloud.
"I KNOWWW" agreed Naoki.
"I realized something, Naoki. The prior times, we always had Well Done steaks, and that''s all good and whatever, I love them because lord forbid I eat raw meat but... Medium well has always been my favorite. But the reason that happens is because we''re always so busy with cooking 2-5 other things that some of the food will inevitably be disproportionately heated. This time, we''ll prevent that. A true experience. We learn from the past, right, is that not what you said?
"...yeah?"
"And thus we shall. Otherwise, what would be the point in learning? We are the best organism on this planet for a reason. And by GOD, WE WILL GRACE GOLDEN MEAT ONTO OUR TONGUES TODAY NAOKI. AM I RIGHT OR AM RIGHT?"
"Hell yeah!"
"You''re goddamn right."
Kyouji chuckled.
"You know Naoki, I don''t know what''s with me today, but I''m glad I spent it with you."
Naoki, caught off-guard from the sudden rubberbanding of personality, couldn''t help but blush.
"Tch, naturally..." responded Naoki, looking away and tipping his hat downwards so as to hide his expression.
The process was done. They both saw on the internet that steaks should rest for a bit before consuming so that the juices could be transferred to the rest of the meat.
But no matter how hot it was today, if they waited too long, their steak would inevitably get cold.
...
They let it rest for 20 seconds.
They simultaneously cut into their slabs.
A beautiful gray surrounding a dark pink core. Juices overflowing the necessary amount.
They diced their first cube and inserted it into their mouths.
An instantaneous explosion of flavor and juices gushed into their mouths. The sear crust greeted the tongue elegantly. The overflowing amount of umami triggered the taste buds automatically, letting a sea of saliva pool out of both of their mouths.
"OHHGGGMYYGGAHHHDDD" exclaimed Naoki as said pools drowned his sentence.
"YYOUOOOUUU TOO NNAAOOGGGIIIII???" asked Kyouji.
The sensations.
The sensations, the sensations, the sensations.
His skin being kissed by the sun, the explosion of flavor that graced his mouth, the presence of one of his loved ones, the satisfaction of eating something that he cooked with his own hands, the experience of learning from his mistakes, the joyful noise that played within his ears, the casual yet beautiful sight of summer grass and lively wind, a scenery bestowed by nature. A sight so whole, it will be carried deep into his soul until the day he died. It all unlocked a new level of "awakening" within Kyouji.
Even if only temporarily, Kyouji took a glimpse of the universe.
Despite the wilting body, the late projects, the minor victories, the relationships- both frayed and prospering, the unstoppable forces of nature, the inevitable experiences brought upon by chance, fate, luck, karma, and/or one''s own consequences, despite the passions, the roadblocks, and the march towards oneness, despite it all, despite it all,
this stream of water carries on.
Kyouji opened his eyes.
He shed a single tear.
And let out a heartfelt laugh.
"I am here. I am now. I am happy."
For the first time ever, Naoki saw Kyouji glow.
The brother greeted him with a smile.
"(I don''t know what''s gotten into you. I don''t know what you''ve been going through. And though I may be ignorant to what you''re experiencing, seeing you like this makes me happy. In due time, I hope I''ll get it too. But for now, I''ll enjoy this time with you)."
"Welcome back, dude."
I love you so much.
Average day: comfort
It was a typical summer day at the academy. Really sunny-
Really hot.
Makoto was walking outside in the "backyard" of the academy. Not necessarily to enjoy the summer splendor of the outdoors, but to avoid the giant oven that was the academy. Despite being equipped with industrial fans throughout the facility, and even having ice generators (captive sorcerer slaves) to cool down the halls, the heat was still too much. Ironically, she sent an email to the principal wondering if he could tone down the heat of the sun just by a tiny bit. Of course, manipulating the sun for the sake of commodities would bear massive consequences. But what about if it was just a smidge?
She got an email a couple minutes later with a pre-made fancy layout and lettering. It read as such:
"Dear Makoto,
No.
- Principal Hanayama"
The worst part about the situation was that she knew the Principal occasionally makes himself comfortable with the sun, so the "reason" why he doesn''t do it for others isn''t for the sake of the earth and these grand consequences- it''s to just not do it, out of spite. Although today''s heat wasn''t his doing, he still decided to not mess with the sun. Whatever.
Makoto decided to wear her typical outfit consisting of jeans, a tanktop and a croptop leather jacket over it.
"Jesus... fUCVK... it''s so god damn hot outside...
but.... but this fit goes too HARD" she grunted to herself, practically frothing at the mouth.
Near the haze of the scorching sun, she saw a figure grilling.
Makoto squinted, practically melting on the ground as she inched herself closer to the figure.
The figure stopped grilling, looked back at the academy, and marched forward.
This figure... they seemed so... so familiar. Big hair... a tanktop... a slender figure... and a long skirt...
But who...who could it be?
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.
Makoto dragged herself in the way of the figure.
"Who... who are you?"
The figure stared at her, then knelt down to take a closer look at her face.
"Wh-
wai-
KYOUJI????"
"Yeah. What''s up."
Makoto slurped her drool and stood up.
"What the... what''s with the uh-"
"I''m grilling. I forgot mustard so I''m going back to the cafeteria."
"Ah I see...
..."
"It''s the skirt isn''t it-"
"Yeah it''s the skirt.
Didn''t know you uh... swung that way."
"Swung in what way."
"You know like... I mean good for you, I''m happy for you."
"Happy for me for what."
"Well... aren''t you like, queer or something."
A brief pause occurred between the two as Kyouji was simply hornswoggled by the assumption.
Eventually, he responded
"The hell did you just say?"
"Well yeah, because you''re wearing girly clothes I''d assume you''re like... you know."
"-Well you assume wrong" cut off Kyouji.
"...
ok..." responded Makoto in a confused tone.
"But still," she continued
"What''s with the get-up."
"I''ll make this brief and in terms that you''ll understand.
Makoto squinted at the comment.
"...wait what does that mea-"
You wear long skirts because you''re a girl.
I wear long skirts because my balls need to breathe
We are not the same.
Now get out of my way, I need to get mustard and my patty is burning."
Makoto looked back at the grill. An 8-inch wide """"patty"""" that was as thick as a New York Strip was currently grilling. She looked horrified.
"That''s a patty???" she shouted back.
Kyouji continued walking and ignored her.
"Wa-
I-
I DON''T EVEN WEAR SKIRTS!!!!!"
He didn''t respond.
Yoshida Mishima
My name is Furai-san.
I am a House Fly.
I am only three weeks or so old and yet, I''ve only stuck to one environment for the majority of my life: this business man''s house.
He is a rather tall and slender man with shiny jet black hair that''s always swept back. I''ve never seen him without a formal business suit. His eyes have these dark circles underneath them. It seems that he has this permanent stoic expression that has never felt the embrace of a mother before. Always so serious, always so... not fun.
He is an odd fellow, I must admit. Like any typical Japanese worker, he has no family, and only comes back home to rest... if it even can be called that.
He is an odd fellow, I must admit. He leaves fruits behind on his kitchen table. He buys a couple, but I''ve never ever seen him dig his fingers into fruits...or much less, any food in particular. He knows we- my brethren and I- exist. Yet he doesn''t seem to be bothered by our company. If anything, we take better care of this apartment than he ever has.
He is an odd fellow, I must admit.
Late at night, he comes back home at four in the morning. Typically, whenever my siblings and I get bored of the house, we venture into our neighbor''s houses. It barely has any more activity, but nevertheless, there''s something. The residents always come back late at night with a stench of alcohol in their breaths, wobbling and stumbling back into their beds before they wake up four hours later for yet another stressful day at work.
Meanwhile, he comes back home a couple hours later than the other typical workers. The first thing he does is get a glass of water from the sink, and feed his plants. The second thing he does is sit down in the center of his cramped "living" room, and stay there on his knees, hands glued to his thighs, back permanently straight, staring at a Japanese flag that takes up the entirety of one of his walls. He sits there, unblinking for two hours straight.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
I have never seen him turn on the lights.
Despite his low activity, we can always feel him staring at us. Even though we''re in another room with walls between us, we know that an earthquake can occur, and he''d still be meditating, without a turn to his neck or his eyes moving a nanometer from where they started.
We can still feel him observing our every movement.
Each of our thousands of lenses moving.
Each twitch of our feelers.
The buzzing noise whenever we fly.
Whenever our hairs move every time a small gust of wind breezes by.
The pulsating maggots living in his walls.
We live.
We breathe.
And he concurs.
After he finishes meditating or praying or... whatever he is doing, he takes an eight minute shower, puts on a suit (of the very same design), and heads towards work.
He is an odd fellow, I concur.
And despite my limited lifespan, I have observed this behavior for a couple years now. And each time I reincarnate (I am Buddhist after all), I hope to come back to the same spot over and over again. Nothing has changed. Not his mannerisms, not his scent, not his aura, nothing.
But I''m still here watching,
enjoying this clean, still spirit.
Or at least until the day that the moon comes crashing down.
I want to be alive
for when he breaks his focus.
How the CIA advanced their technology
The year was 1947; Roswell, New Mexico.
It was a bright and blazing day. Pretty typical all things considered. However, the then-young Central Intelligence Agency had their own private base now known as Area 51. Their radars caught a foreign object near the area. Seeing as how the fear of Communism had already started its roots back then, they shot it without asking. It was practically protocol at that point; even some of the local pilots knew to never swing by "the dead zone." If anyone was dumb enough to go near that area, the blame was on the pilot, not the base with clear private sectors marked. Anyway, near the edge of town, Kenneth Arnolds, a civilian, reported seeing a "flying saucer" in the sky. He drove over to where the saucer crashed, only to be greeted by Government officials who beat him by 15 minutes.
Though the officers promptly told Kenneth to "Go back to town and forget everything [he] just saw", Kenneth saw a glimpse of some soldiers dragging a body while frantically putting a tarp over the wreckage.
Kenneth didn''t really know what he saw, but he still reported it anyway. Overnight, mass media covered the incident, which led to the government spreading a false story just to calm down the fire of suspicious civilians.
What really ended up happening was the Government dragging the hill of scrap that was the saucer, back to their base, and of course-
taking home an Alien.
The Alien was a weird blend between gray-ish and orange-ish. It was reported to be around Five foot-four. They were surprisingly human-esque, which unnerved a lot of the soldiers back then. The fact that there was alien life out there shocked them; the only thing scarier than that to them was the fact that they were so similar to humans. The Alien''s eyes were Pitch black, but his head wasn''t ginormous or anything like most depictions would lead people to assume. And he wasn''t weak or frail either. Reports stated that he was relatively lean. Of course the first thing they did was drag the unconscious thing''s ass back to base and lock him up with clamps around his wrists, neck, and ankles. They attempted doing tests on the alien, but the most they could get was getting DNA samples from its saliva. Every time they tried injecting a syringe into the Alien''s flesh, the skin just bent. It could not pierce through no matter if it was a machine poking with the most precise amount of pressure possible, or if it was a rookie stabbing the Alien with all his force, only to get bounced back from the sheer elasticity from the Alien''s skin. After the fifth hour, they were so amused by the Alien''s... Alien physique, they started shooting the damn thing... while it was still unconscious. And all of the bullets landed perfectly on its skin, before softly bouncing back out. Not a single mark of penetration.
While the soldiers were unsuccessfully experimenting with the Alien''s unconscious body, other military scientists and engineers attempted at dissecting the ship. A hexagonal saucer type ship with pretty mediocre damage. Despite getting nailed by an anti-armor artillery round, the damage done was no more than a bubbled dent that was 8 inches deep and 18 inches wide. Those studying the material were understandably perplexed. Any other aircraft would''ve exploded midair and turned into giblets of shrapnel and scrap. What''s even weirder to them was that the dent was slowly yet surely bubbling outwards back to its original round shape. No matter how many times they attempted to scrape and scratch, or chip off a mere atom of the substance, they couldn''t do it.
Five hours of dicking around.
All wasted.
CIA recorders and video photographers kept on coming back and forth back and forth back and forth to see any process and document any new footage.
"Any progress on the-"
A resounding "No" came from all the scientists.
"DAMN IT" shouted some of the documenters.
Of course their job was only to note down any new progress that happened. Be it minute or grand, they jotted down the newly gained knowledge and wouldn''t let anyone outside of The Company know about it for decades to come. And seeing as how this one instance confirmed the speculations and fears of many, they expected more out of it.
But seeing as how they''ve been in the same position from where they started, for five hours no less, the excitement evaporated rather quickly.
Until...
The alien slowly opened its eyes. Its gaze met four scientists with surgical apparel on them. Tools hovered above the alien''s face, while fingers poked and pulled on the alien''s cushiony flesh.
A garbled croaking screech was emitted out of the extra terrestrial''s mouth. All of the scientists shrieked and jumped backwards in shock. Despite the harrowing sound of a demonic frog being gutted echoing throughout the facility, the Alien too was shocked. Noticing it had restraints on its ankles, wrists, and neck, it immediately pulled its limbs and neck outward in an explosive manner. The steel restraints were pulled out effortlessly. Shocked, yet still confused, it stared at the scenery.
Those restraints were... were they even restraints? In terms of intention, it sure seemed like it but pulling them out had the same effect as picking up a pencil for typical humans. These creatures... they looked similar to itself in terms of shape, but they were definitely weaker... and smellier... and uglier... and stupider..!
Despite most of the humans being taller, their wavering body language and constant shrieks made the alien realize they weren''t that much of a threat at all. The room it was in was large and spacious, like a vehicle hangar, but with crude, underdeveloped vehicles instead of the splendorous space ships that it was used to seeing. Speaking of space ships, he saw a couple of humans surrounding a dented spac- hey HEY HEY HEY-
In its mind, it just realized
"(HEY THAT''S MY SHIP!
WHAT THE HELL DID YOU GUYS DO TO IT!)"
Despite the Alien thinking in its head-
the surrounding humans somehow heard a murmur in their heads as well.
The shrieking stopped. All of them were unsure of what to do. Despite a few of them holding up pistols and rifles, they were in too much shock to pull the trigger. Even then, they all knew it wouldn''t do much.
The humans held a staring contest with the peculiar individual for what felt like five minutes. But with all of them calming down, the alien took the reactions as a massive hint. He tried to think again.
A resounding noise came from the back of each human''s head. An echo, a murmur. Croaks of an alligator blurred with fizzled radio static. Thousands of foreign tongues speaking at once.
"????????. ????????? ????. ??????? ????. ?????? ???????; ??? ?? ??????
ASHL;ASDKGLD;ASGNKGJIOEWOIER2014JUOASDKJXZC,MXC,VJUOKEF
ASD;LKNG1987kldajoibLKAJDNDSlkgjmsdsKKKKjgpsknldofcpoijaklnemGD;LASKDGJN;lkn
alksnelia2004LDGISNG LSIGISDG;[P[ASLKJR;asdgoa;ADGkgkGLklabxc
AS;Lgdaslneago-qqowrjnklxj1992sldgj;aodsginblbbisdjxcokjl;alkmn,zmnxcbcvmx,
las;ne;legtij2016asd;lknetggohij;lasejnelkg;oibopbacccaccacaaaaannnnnn yoououoiuiiuiuouoou heeararararrrrrrr
ccccaaaannnn yyyyyouououo
heeeeeeeeeereeee mmmmmmmmmmmmeeeeeeeee
cccaaannn yyoouuuu heear mmeee
Hhhelloo? Caann youu heeaear me?"
A collective "Holy shit," left every scientist''s mouth.
The Alien just spoke... without opening its mouth. And they could understand him! And... and he sounds like a guy from Chicago of all things!"
"(Alright, I think that''s a resounding yes.)" stated the Alien
"(Ok so, first thing''s first-
THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY CAR
THERE IS A GIANT DENT IN IT. WHAT DID YOU DO? SERIOUSLY. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY HOURS THAT''S GOING TO TAKE TO GO BACK TO ITS ORIGINAL SHAPE? GOD!)"
The scientists were obviously still stricken with fear, but a few of them were so curious, they still decided to talk.
"D-D-DON''T KILL ME, PLEASE! I HAVE A WIFE AND DAUGHTER!" yelled one of the scientists.
The alien gave an annoyed stare.
The very moment he telepathically spoke, all of the information in each human''s head was being downloaded inside the alien''s brain in the background.
"No you don''t. In fact, you don''t even like women, why would you lie abou-"
He immediately processed all of the information in each human''s head right before he finished that sentence.
"(Oh.
ooooooooohh-oh.
Oh you''re gonna die. Yeah it''s over guy. That one''s already thinking of firing you. Sorry about that.
Anyway, why would I want to kill any of you?
I want my car fixed, not stained with blood. Like- I can sort of understand why your brains would think that but- you guys are so illogical it actually makes no sense to me even when I try to understand it.)"
One of the researchers propped up.
"Wh-why won''t you kill us?"
As he spoke, some of the crew members with cameras tried to sneakily turn on the device so as to get a glimpse of this occurrence on tape.
Before the alien answered the lady, he looked at the camera crew member.
"(You''re not slick. Ask for permission first.)"
The camera guy fell back and stared, threatened that the alien noticed. Not that he was that sly to begin with. After they caught their breath, they finally asked aloud.
"P-Permission to... record?"
"(Permission granted. Don''t forget to get my good side.
Anyway, I already answered this question. God you humans aren''t the listening type, are you? There''s no reason for me to get blood in my hands if I gain nothing from it. Not like you guys know my insurance company. That''s like shooting a guy over a dent on your ca- okay that one''s not that impossible to happen, BUT, it''s still rare nonetheless. Just because I''m an alien doesn''t mean I don''t have insurance and cars and guns like you guys. And I already read most of your puny minds like- I can vaguely understand why you''d think there''s some squibbly goobebly tentacle monsters out there with 8 eyes and shoot lasers and this and that and this and that- and they definitely exist out there, but... not all aliens are like that. I mean come on, my IQ is 4 by the power of 18 times greater than all of your guys'' minds combined so... yeah of course i''d have insurance on my ship and whatnot.
But some of you were already thinking that a natural response from me would be to retaliate out of defense.
And well...
You bring up a good point)"
Several objects started floating in the air. Pencils. Stacks of papers. The camera. A tank in the background. Some hovered mere inches while others were being tossed in the air, weaving with such grace that they didn''t collide with any walls or frameworks. Soon after that, all the humans felt a faint pressure on the bodies. Half of them floated alongside the objects, screaming for mercy as they feared they were going to collide against the tank. The other half fell to the ground on all fours as their gravity increased. The pressure and shape of an imaginary anvil gently pressed their backs, teasing its heft.
After 15 seconds of fear mongering, the Alien let all of the nouns gently revert back to normal. Those who floated were plopped on their behinds while those who felt they were about to be crushed, laid on all fours, looking like fools.
The alien clapped and made an innocent smile.
"(But why would I do that!)" he mocked telepathically.
Of course, all of the humans were shocked beyond comprehension.
Most couldn''t do anything.
But those who could, whipped out their standard army issued Colt 1911s and started blasting.
The Alien continued to monologue as it used one of its fingers to halt each bullet that landed against its tip.
"(I''m way smarter than all of you so- ow- obviously that whole retaliation and bloodshed- ow - is out of my system. If I was younger and stupider and uglier, I maybe would''ve taken my frustration out on you guys but like- for the third time now- I wouldn''t get anyth- ow - thing out of it. I already demonstrated that I could. Quite easily in fact. But... yeah no. I just want to get the hell out of here.)"
"HOW... HOW DID YOU DO THAT????" asked one of the main officers presiding over the project.
"(What, are you for real? You guys have been able to do this for like... a long time. There''s no way all of you lost how to do this. Actually, now that I think about it, last time I talked about you guys, you guys seemed a lot taller. And stronger. And handsomer. And wiser. And arguably smarter. And aren''t as impressed with simple party tricks but... I guess a lot of things can change in a couple thousand years).
Oh to answer your question, brain power. Next question.)"
"YOU''RE... YOU''RE THE DEVIL!"
"(That''s not a question; back of the line.)"
"Why did you...why did you come here?"
"(wh-
I-
YOU SHOT ME!
WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN wh-wh-wh-why did you come here! GUY- I''M THE VICTIM HERE, YOU TELL ME WHY YOU SHOT ME- OH WAIT- I ALREADY KNOW! YOU SAW ME CASUALLY CRUISING BY AND YOU SAID ''NAH MAN, GET HIM OUT OF HERE''
And here we are. That answer your question?")
"Actually....
No, not really. Why were you cruising near Earth to begin with."
"(Oh... oh yeah right.
I was on my way to a kegger a couple solar systems away right, and I was THIS ?? close to arriving within ten minutes. But I couldn''t hold it, so I slowed way down (which is probably how you guys were able to hit me in the first place) and I intended to unload my bladder once I was near a comfy spot. Before you ask- no, it''s not how you guys do it- way different- waaaaaaaaaaaay different)"
One of the scientists in the back lowered his raised hand after hearing the main question in his head answered.
"(I was JUST ready to unload before my ship got dinked by a weak yet cumbersome blast, which knocked me out. Next thing I know, I have these ugly creatures touching me without my consent and they''re trying to PURPOSEFULLY DENT MY SHIP, and now... here I am.
... hang on, you said something... weird...
You guys call your planet ''Earth''???)"
"Y...Yes?"
"(That''s...
dumb.
That''s really dumb. That''s like calling your planet ''rock'' or ''dirt''. Also that''s not what its actually called but, if the natives call it one thing, and if the officials call it another- who''s in the right ya know? I mean me personally, ????????????? ?? rolls off the tongue way easier but... hey man, if that''s what you want to call it... you''re still wrong but, you do you)"
All scientists gave a puzzled look.
"What... what did you say Earth''s ''official'' name was again?" asked one of the scientists.
Slowly yet surely, the human''s demeanor of shock had evaporated and melted into a different tone. Weary, still yet, a bit more open to the bizarre circumstance.
"(????????????? ??. You''ve never heard of it? Oh well duh they call it something way stupider, and this is their first time seeing one of... me in a long time so I guess that''s a moot point... Oh yeah you guys can hear my thoughts... but how could you guys still not understand that part?)"
After a few seconds of silence, the Alien pondered up a theory on the spot.
"(Alright so, I think I have a basic understanding of what''s happening right now. I know some of you were asking how I could talk to you without using my voice. Well, not sure if you''ve noticed but I can''t use my vocal chords like you can. If I do so-)"
The same ghastly croak that triggered the human''s fight or flight instinct was emitted. After a few seconds of eldritch noise, The Alien closed his mouth.
"(Can''t really understand me. People from my race and a couple of other races can understand me but, I guess my race is just superior in every way, including language...I guess I must bear the burden of being better than you guys in every conceivable and inconceivable way... Man I''m sorry I''m just... so much better than you guys, like, in most circumstances this would''ve been a cool experience for the both of us but... this must be disappointing for most of you guys... being so cool you creatures can''t properly compute it in you small brains... what a waste...)" sighed The Alien with a pseudo-sad tone.
Most of the humans gave a ?? expression.
"(Oh yeah speaking of small brains, back to how you guys can understand me. Obviously, I can''t really use vocal chords so I have to use PsychoPower. Brain power. Telepathy. Yeah. I''ll explain it through an analogy that all of you will understand. I basically tuned my brain to a lower frequency so that I could understand you guys. There''s a couple of universal constants and while most aliens have way more complex emotions that you humans can barely fathom, some universal emotions are still present within you guys. Using those as building blocks, I worked my way backwards to a point where most basic words were easily translatable to your guys'' language. Meanwhile, more advanced and esoteric concepts and names can''t be properly computed since we''re just better than you. You guys can compute what Coffee means, but if I mention ASLKMGE;ALKNMSCLJ, it shows up as gibberish in your heads.
...)"
The Alien snickered before continuing.
"(Nah I''m just messing with you, that last one didn''t mean anything. It''s just gibberish. But back to a serious note, that''s why you guys can''t process ????????????? ??. Even the symbol is so alien to your minds, that the closest thing you guys can process it is through the shape of a rat)."
The scientists were wonderstruck, as much as they were also disappointed. All this new information graced their minds.
And yet-
the fact that they couldn''t understand everything frustrated most of them. In the field of science, it is true that one discovery leads to a plethora of other questions. An endless chase to sate the truths of the universe. But the fact that their prayers to the universe were answered- yet their human comprehension couldn''t fully wrap their heads around said answers bothered most of them.
"But... but... how are you invulnerable to damage? I get that it''s your basic biology but- BUT HOW? WE NEED TO UNDERSTAND YOU!" shouted one of the scientists in a distressed tone.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"(Woah woah, hey hey, it''s not that deep. I''m just simply ya''know, born better)."
Most of the scientists gave a disappointed look.
"THAT''S IT?"
"(I mean... yeah like, what else do you want me to say?
...
Oh wait hang on- I will say, there''s a nifty trick that I learned a couple centuries ago. So I was at this spiritual vacation retreat right? Pretty fun all things considered. I''ll be honest I was never a magic or spiritual type of guy y''know, science just seemed way more practical than sitting in a room and letting the world pass by you. It''s boring! I don''t know what else to say! Heheh, anyway, my friends were the ones who wanted to join and since I was off from work I joined them because it was one of those things where it was like ''you know what? I''m on vacation, this seems fun, why not?'' I think we could all relate to tha-)"
"GET TO THE POINT!" shouted all of the scientists in unison.
"(Uh
ok
Rude. I could turn all of you into a rolled up toothpaste tube but you know what, fine, I ramble, whatever.
Long story short, in that retreat they taught me a nifty trick called Ki. It''s the supreme control over material, and in its most basic application, the body. You see, my body is naturally durable, right. Nothing on your planet can kill me. Harm me, sure. Hurt like a bitch, ooohhh yeah. But you could never outright kill me.
But through the power of Ki, now my physiology is amplified and the weapons you guys would have harmed me with are basically negated. Durability is amplified many times over and hell, one punch from me would probably turn most of you into minced meat. Not that I care to demonstrate but, you get the gist. I''d still feel pain but even then, I have control over my nerves to the point where if I concentrate enough, I can just... choose not to feel pain... Y''know?)"
Many of the human''s eyes lit up. Finally- a lead! Scientists wondered how far humans could evolve at that point. Military personnel thought of the indestructible army they could make.
"But can you teach us!? How do you do it?!"
"(WOAH MAN, I can talk about it, I can demonstrate it... but teaching it is entirely on your hands... Hey wait a sec, now that I remember, I''m pretty sure one of my friends visited you guys a while back and said you guys had powers. The hell man? I thought you guys already solved this. Have you people really been one step forward-two step backwards-ing the past 14,000 years? Shit man, that''s sad)."
Many of the scientists took note of what the Alien was saying. Spiritual powers. Powers from long ago... somehow there was a correlation and yet, the fact that they had to even fathom the existence of "spirituality" made a few of them gag.
"Do you know where we could start?"
"(Well seeing as how I scanned your brains, I know you guys got the basics down of it. Just work out stronger, increase intensity, drink a lot of water and uh... pay attention to your mental health? That''s kinda all I got.)"
Many of the human''s eyes twitched.
They all thought the same thing; a resounding "That''s it?" in the tone of severe disappointment.
"(Well what do you want me to do???
Whatever man, I just need to-
Oh shit
Holy shit
What time is it?)"
An officer looked at his watch and announced: "23:47 PM"
The alien made a complex equation through his head before he realized:
"(OH MY GOD
I''M LATE
Ok, question times over, I actually have to leave now. Shoo shoo, I forgive you for the dent just- just get out of my way)" he announced telepathically, standing up from the surgery table and making his way towards the ship.
"B-But you can''t just leave! We have so many questio-"
"(Don''t care)."
The alien used its telekinesis to open an invisible hatch at the bottom of the ship.
"(Piece.
I mean- Peace.)"
A bluish white glow was emitted at the bottom of the ship. A piercing light that blinded those who didn''t have eyewear. Those who were wearing sunglasses or similar eyewear of the sort, they could barely comprehend what they saw: the light dematerialized the alien in an upwards motion. Despite scattering its molecules at an uneven rate, it seemed painless, at least from the expression the Alien made.
And there, the humans saw the last of the fabled Extra Terrestrial...
.
.
.
"(oh my god.
OH MY GOD.
OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOD)"
The same telepathic voice echoed throughout each human''s mind in a higher pitch and a louder volume. The light-phaser re-materialized the Alien in a comically quick fashion. After completing materialization, the Alien stormed out with an upset expression on its face, while holding a brown canister that was leaking liquid.
"(LOOK WHAT YOU DID!)"
The canister had a decently sized hole. It made a trail from the "entrance" of the ship towards where the Alien stood.
"(NOW TELL ME
HOW IS ANYONE GOING TO ENJOY A FINE REFRESHMENT AT THE PARTY- IF THE GUY GETTING THE DRINKS IS ALL OUT)"
A scientist grabbed an eyedropper and made a desperate attempt at collecting a sample from the trail of liquid.
The Alien made a clear reaction.
"It''s for the job."
"(Yeah, yeah, I know
Anyway, how are you people going to repay me? Not killing you over something that goes back into shape- fine, I can live with that. But wasting my entire reason for coming near here is just- DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY LIGHTYEARS I TRAVELED JUST TO- wow. WOW. ACTUALLY- WOW. I can''t, this is- This is insane!
This is genuinely insane. I''m *chuckles* I''M ACTUALLY THIS MAD I''M SMILING. DO YOU KNOW HOW SCREWED YOU GUYS ARE? I''M THIS ?? CLOSE TO FLINGING YOUR PLANET AT THE NEAREST STAR- HONESTLY!)"
The earth around the facility shook.
Most of the scientists were obviously panicking at this point. Most groveled, few cried. One of them took a pistol with them and went straight towards the bathroom by themselves with an expression on their face that screamed "It''s over".
One however, quickly thought on his feet. He whipped out a metal object out of his lab pocket and handed it to the Alien. Within 14 seconds he had already gone through the stages of grief and accepted that if this didn''t work, then Earth was just doomed. But it still didn''t hurt to try regardless.
"Here, try this."
The alien stared back with disgust.
"(The hell is this)"
"Alcohol."
The alien opened the flask. He took a whiff.
"(AUGH- that''s not alcohol, that''s alcohol. But SOMEONE just HAD to ruin it for everyone.)"
"Just drink a damn sip. Jesus..."
"(You''re playing with fire here...)" judged the Alien with a mean demeanor.
The Alien took a giant swig, chugging it down as if it were water.
Its eyes instantly lit up
"(WHA-
OUGHHHHHH
*cough cough*
WHAT IS THAT?!?!?)"
"Vodka."
"(YOU TRIED TO POISON ME?)"
"No you dumbass, it''s a drink."
The Alien smacked its lips.
"(Hang on let me try that again)."
It took a swig.
"(UUUHHHGGGGGG)"
It felt a harsh liquid swim down its throat. An internal punch to the stomach. But damn-
The burn of the throat was painful, but the bold aftertaste freshens up the insides with a smooth sentiment. Likewise, the flavor was harsh- pungent... but immediately after the stabbing sensation of the tongue, the minty aftertaste makes it all worth it. The aroma was strong yes, but its bold flavored musk was intoxicating.
It took another swig.
It smacked its lips in enjoyment.
"(Wow this is... this is... this isn''t bad. Honestly it''s a little better than what we had... Holy crap, I can''t believe I''m admitting this but, this tastes kinda good! And I don''t know what this feeling is but, drinking this is fun!)" it giggled.
"(You know what human, this wasn''t bad. As a means of apology, you humans just need to get me a large load of this... ''alcohol'' and then we''ll be square. Now, just tell me where you guys can pick this up and i''ll-)"
"ALL NEARBY TROOPS, ALERT THE STATIONS IN THE NEAREST TOWNS TO BUY AS MUCH ALCOHOL AS POSSIBLE. ALERT EVERY LIQUOR STORE TO OPEN UP, THIS IS AN EMERGENCY! GO GO GO!" shouted one of the higher officers.
"(You don''t need to do that I just hick oh shit, you just need to tell me where... where the specific shops are and I can just-)"
"Negative. The world isn''t ready to see your existence. It would be chaos."
"(I can- I can understand that... yeah...I guess... but I can teleport and just in-and-out zoom, grab a lot of bottles and-)"
"It''s still too risky," argued the officer.
"Just wait 20- no- 10 minutes and we''ll get you crates worth of different types of alcohol."
"(THERE''S DIFFERENT TYPES? I was going to argue that I could still like.... hang on, need to stand...straight... ok- I can like... delete people''s memories so that they forget me but I uh
...
Nahhhh screw it. I''ll be king of your species for 10 minutes I don''t mind)."
After 24 minutes, Jeeps and trucks full of crates were transported to the base. Soldiers tirelessly ran and carried the crates near the ship.
Some of the scientists and soldiers tried to teach the Alien how to play poker.
"(Is this... this alcohol does it... hahahha, does it regularly make you stupid???)"
A unanimous "Yes" came from the nearby human''s mouths.
"(Pftttthahhahahahha, man, no WONDER you guys are so far behind! If you guys didn''t have this poison that made you dumber, then you guys would''ve been in the stars a looooooooooong time ago hehehehehhhhhh)."
After the soldiers set the crates underneath the ship, the Alien stood up and sauntered to its ship''s entrance.
"(You said they''d be here in... 10 minutes)" said the Alien directly towards the Officer.
"You have to understand, there were some technical difficulties- a spur of the moment type of-"
"(Yeah, yeah, I got what I wanted, whatever.)"
The materializer beam was turned on, and the Alien telekinetically hovered each crate into the beam. Despite seeming like it didn''t have the capacity, the ship comfortably fit all 32 crates of alcohol inside the confusing layout.
The alien turned around and faced its audience.
"(I would typically say it''s been *hic* a pleasure.
But it wasn''t.
Bye)."
He materialized himself inside the ship.
Only to reappear a minute later.
He snickered to himself with a goofy smile plastered on his face.
"(Yeah uh that was snicker REALLY rude of me so snicker as a trade for such a good discovery, here''s this pamphlet they gave to me when I was at the resort that might help you guys out snicker, and here''s something my friend got from your planet a looooong time ago. You might recognize it... or not...
You know I *hic* I really don''t think I should be messing with natives without a proper warrant but... nahhhh what''s the worst that could happen?)"
The Alien tossed a worn, pocket-sized pamphlet with an alien (haha) language and various foreign runes. And much like typical tourist type texts, several other foreign... foreign languages were seen in smaller font, underneath the "normal" alien language.
Though the pamphlet wasn''t the only thing that the alien tossed towards the humans, for its second and last gift was an odd, plastic-y futuristic device.
The alien snickered away
"(Have fun!)"
He dematerialized himself back into the ship and made a giant hole through the ceiling. The wreckage luckily didn''t hit anyone but-
"God damn it" cursed one of the architects.
"Sir, er- fellas, come look! I''ve been studying the liquid and the container that he said was their type of alcohol"
"What did you see, Dick?"
(Dick is a name, come on now).
"From the cells that I was able to see, on top of the debris I had to ''wash off'' from the floor itself, judging from the plethora of the crystals I gathered that what his kind were drinking holds a close resemblance to saturated hydrocarbons. I need more time to understand it but from the smell and massive amounts of ethanol that I''ve seen-
These aliens were drinking something that was similar to Gasoline."
Everyone gave a weirded out look.
"The hell?" Responded the Officer.
"Well, at least we got a good look at life out there. Sure it wasn''t what we expected, but we got a lot... we got what we needed-
....
Look we got something out of it, and I think that''s a lot more than we were hoping initially. Right guys?"
Murmurs here and there.
"Say, the universe works in mysterious ways, doesn''t it? Like we told Robert to stop drinking on the job, but look what would''ve happened if he didn''t bring his flask! We would''ve all died! Say, why do you bring your flask to work?"
"It mutes the suffering."
"That''s dark.
Oh yeah, whatever happened to Jeff?"
"I saw him go towards the bathroom with a gun, but now that we''re all fine, we can tell him that it''s all oka-"
BANG
"..."
.
.
.
.
.
From there on, the CIA studied the two gifts from the Alien, and made proper use of it.
Though the researchers were enamored by the pamphlet, there was a small issue that arose 3 minutes after the Alien left.
After flipping through the entire pamphlet as well as images that couldn''t be comprehended by the human minds, the researchers came up with a crucial discovery:
"...we can''t read this"
Though, the only thing that could be comprehensible were various runes and letterings that were "simple" enough to understand. Instead of reading the ones that read ?? ??? ??? ???? ???????????? ?? ?????? ?? ??? ???? ?????? ???? , they instead insisted upon reading the ones that were similar to Sumerian or Celtic lettering. Didn''t help that most of these were written similarly by sheer coincidence; which is a given, since these types of things happen all the time. To English speaking people, an h looks like this, but when they see an in a different country, they''d assume OH HEY, A LETTER I RECOGNIZE when in reality, it''s a completely separate symbol. The researchers knew, and still decided to hire several historical linguistics professors from around the globe. Despite many decades passing by with hundreds of theories thrown around, there were barely any advancements. Several researchers either passed away, grew tired and disinterested, or were simply replaced by younger researchers. No breakthrough was made... until November 25th, 1970.
That day, they believed they translated their first word:
"TONGUE"
Slowly yet surely, the inevitable snail traveled at a quicker pace.
As for the holy machine, the humans saw the ports of the electrical device, and managed to work their way backwards to make a charger for the handheld computer. Eventually, with some tinkering of the code and ways to plug in the screen to a giant monitor, it served as the best computer in the world for generations to come. Seeing as how this thing was far more advanced than anything that would come for the next fifty years at least, it served as the technological "heart" of the CIA. What took several countries hours and possibly days to compute, took the United States a mere moment.
And on the rare occasion that the computer wasn''t needed, it was used for the sole purpose of making some of the most elite operators even smarter. For it held an application that tested the speed and quick thinking of the highest elite.
"And that''s the story of how we were technologically better than everyone from the 40''s to at least the 90s... and how we eventually learned to understand spiritual languages...which paved the way to using magic." said Vincent, sitting down in the booth.
Jules stared at him.
An expression of disbelief, shock, confusion, and frustration swelled Jules'' face. The color of his face turned from red, to purple, to a color Vince had never seen before.
"Dude are you ok?" asked Vincent.
"Do you think I''m that stupid?" snarled Jules.
"What? I''m serious, that''s what happened."
"Why would you-
That doesn''t make-
You''re dumb. You''re so dumb ??."
"Hey man, believe it if you want, that''s just what they taught me in the history elective."
"This story doesn''t make any sense. I''m leaving."
"WHAT? I just got my Burger! At least wait for your chicken alfredo pasta! Come on man! I know it''s silly but it''s the truth!"
"I''ll pay for the pasta another day, I just...
Do you really think I''d fall for that?"
"Fall for what *munch munch munch*."
"OH MY GOD
AM I THAT STUPID TO YOU?"
"Not *munch* really?"
"Does our friendship mean so little to you that you''d insult me with something so fucking childish."
"Woah- WOAH- WHAT?
Look man it''s not that deep. Hell, that last part was more of a legend than an actual truth, but everything else is true! Dude, we could go back to base after this and look at the tapes, I promise you, none...
...
Okay, 98% of what I just said isn''t bullshit. Now come on now, the pasta should come by any minute. Let''s just enjoy our dinner and we''ll see how it goes."
"Ggghhhhheeeehhhh"
Jules grumpily ate his dinner. The taste of ridiculousness had soured his meal.
Vince enjoyed his burger. No particular reason, it was just that good.
They eventually went back to base and asked for the tapes.
"Ok if I''m correct, you have to pay for my meal next time."
"Shut up."
They watched the tapes
"Oh my god.
Oh my god"
Jules was on his knees, on the verge of tears.
"But that''s..." he said, with a wavering voice
"That''s... DUMB.
THAT''S SO DUMB..."
He pounded the floor with a clenched fist.
Vince stood idly by...
"Well that just goes to show that reality is sometimes a bit sillier than wed like to think.
Man, I wonder what overpriced succulent meal I''ll get for free this time..."
"I...
I....
I think I got STUPIDER just by learning it''s real..." grunted Jules on his sleeve.
"Oh come on now-" commented Vince as he squatted nearby his friend
"Look at it from the bright side:
It''s only going to get worse ?? "
Jules looked up with a surprised, exasperated demeanor.
"DUDE?"
Introduction Chapter: Chad Bernard
3 and half years ago.
In the quiet forest near a rural Utah residence, a young 20 year old boy had finished recording a 4 hour long tutorial on how to summon small spiritual beasts. He was fairly handsome, a tall sturdy build to him, and had long, blonde hair that cascaded down to his shoulders.
In a tired tone that had a hint of southern accent to it, he chuckled to the camera.
shih- man, Im so tired hahaha!
Thank you all for watching, uhhhh- if you all liked it, leave a comment and subscribe if you like uhhhmmm... Tell me what you guys think. Tell me if it works for you and if you tried
Hey there pal! He called out in the same attitude as a pet owner would towards their dog- as he pointed the camera towards... nothing.
Come on boy hahahaha! He shouted joyfully again as he dropped the camera. From there, he picked it up and ended the video.
He walked back to his house, which was very close to the woods that he had occupied. After he started uploading the footage, he read the new comments on his other videos.
To no ones surprise, the comments ranged from angry Christians calling his videos paganist bullshit, to repetitive comments of youre literally insane, to even I dont care if hes crazy hes so cute agshfjshdk"
Chad brushed (and blushed) off all the comments. Until one of them caught his eye.
Cool video! Im a 15 year old wizard and I wanted to know if there was a spell that could make my mother love me?
An audible "dude" left Chads mouth as he unironically cringed for the first time in months.
Underneath that comment though, was another one that caught his attention.
From MiasmaMessiah4
Interesting video. Ive tried some of the other techniques from the video that required more precise ingredients and it think it worked decently well. Do you mind doing a more thorough review if I sent you some footage of it? Id also like to discuss some topics with you in private. Add me, [email protected].
Chad wasnt surprised that 99% of the population wasnt blessed or traumatized with the abilities to see spirits. But the fact that this stranger on the internet actually saw his rituals and incantations and saw the results on camera, filled him with a keen sense of glee.
He had a warm smile on his face.
Well, Ill be.
.
.
.
Sunset occurred .
He checked the time.
Hm.
Perfect timing.
Sorry guy, but it looks like Ill have to add you after I take care of some business" he said to himself.
His mother warned him about paying his dues for several years and yet, he never listened. Now with all that money, hes risking losing it all with increased fees.
"Well, not today he said to himself.
He walked downstairs and opened the door towards his mothers cramped room.
Hey ma, Im just going out to take care of some business. Ill see you in like an hour or two.
There was no response.
Love you!
There was no response.
He closed the door of the desolate room and went to his garage. He opened the closet, strapped himself with his Remington shotgun, and picked out an ancient mask from his ancestor. He got on his cruiser style motorcycle and donned the mask: the head of the Baphomet.
As the garage door opened, he whistled a joyful tune. He performed a hand sign. Appearing from thin air was a large Doxen with the musculature of a lion, the length of a python, and the exaggerated features of a wolfs head. Its eyes were absent and in was replaced by enlarged jaws and ears. It eagerly panted as it waited patiently for its master''s orders.
Chad whipped out a crumpled up piece of paper in his pocket and read the home address on it, as well as the name of the person he was hunting. With vigor, the oversized Doxen''s ears quivered in various directions. After a couple seconds, it barked, signifying it found its target.
"Perfect."
He rode out in the night, listening to the call outs of the Doxen. The road was desolate. All he ever saw was the pavement of the ground, the repetitive view of the trees, and the Doxen itself. A peaceful contemplation. To think, a good portion of the states are just this. An encroaching, inevitable modernization that impedes upon nature. Not that he necessarily saw it as a bad thing. The American spirit was brought upon by capitalism, and though it was ironic considering his family lineage, he believed the two could co-exist.
After forty-five minutes of driving, he had finally reached his destination. He parked in a forest near the house.
It was the house of an accountant.
Through binoculars the predator spotted his target.
Using the night as cover, he crept towards the house, and threw salt on the ground as he circled around the property.
He donned the mask and readied his shotgun. He breathed in, then out. Without hesitation, he quietly sprinted over to the entrance of the home.
Rudely intruding the mans house, Chad wasted no time in letting the Doxen thrash the house, while he entered the kitchen and interrupted the accountant''s cooking. Without any struggle, he subdued the accountant at gun point.
Chad began:
Trust me,
I dont like hurting people, I really dont.
But you came after my family, my livelihood, and my money.
WOAH WOAH HEY WHO THE-
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? Shouted the accountant.
I LITERALLY DID NOTHING WRONG?
BULLSHIT! YOU WANTED TO TAKE MY MONEY!
"WHAT IS THIS ABOUT? I SERIOUSLY DON''T KNOW WHO YOU ARE???"
"IT''S THE GOD DAMN TAXES!"
The accountant paused his shock and contorted his face into one of confusion.
"Taxes....?
TAXES?
ARE YOU SERIOUS?
YOU''RE GOING TO KILL ME OVER FUCKING TAXES?"
Frustrated, Chad resisted pulling the trigger.
After 2 minutes of dead pan gun-pointed silence, Chad asked his question.
Why do you do it
Why do you want my money
The accountant began heaving in frustration.
We do this to EVERYONE, YOU FUCKING IDIOT! Teenagers do taxes, retired people pay taxes, hell, I pay taxes, and I work for the god damn IRS! I know its bullshit, I know its obnoxious, and I know youre young... but this system is NECESSARY! Hell, if you just filed them, then you would realize that you would have the chance of getting a REFUND. And even then, unless you''re stupidly rich, it doesn''t cost that much!
Are YOU rich?"
Chad pondered for a sec. He concentrated on the man, well knowing that this was some ploy to take his gun away as a means of distraction. He took a couple steps back and responded.
"No."
"THEN WHY DOES IT MATTER TO YOU?"
"Because you''re stealing money that we barely have."
"THAT''S NOT MY FUCKING PROBLEM! THAT''S JUST HOW THINGS ARE!
Please....PLEASE! JUST... JUST LET IT GO! I DIDN''T DO ANYTHING, I JUST WORK FOR THEM! I BEG OF YOU!
LOOK- I''LL... I WON''T CALL THE COPS, I SWEAR! WE''LL.... WE''LL JUST LET IT GO, OKAY???"
After a bit of realization, Chad thought about it for a second.
Democracy. Money. Success. Greed.
A polite society. One where one aids another. Thats one aspect of the American dream, is it not? To build the roads. To cover the cost of the electricity throughout the city. To get that one magical check once a pandemic or so. An easier, convenient life. No potholes, services paid publicly, an easily sustainable state environment. That would be pretty nice.
But than he realized something.
Sorry man. I hate to get political, but that sounds like Communism to me."
Within his mind, Chad reaffirmed a statement to himself:
"(Because whats more American, than keeping all that money to yourself)."
The accountant''s eyes filled with sadness, before evolving into a confused rage. He lunged towards Chad in desperation.
YOU STUPID MOTHERFUC-
The loud shotgun blast rang within the house. Though with the Giant circle of salt around the house, the sound was muted; and nobody in the neighborhood was none the wiser.
...
I''m sorry apologized Chad.
He knelt down to the corpse and preached his mantra.
I hate to get political. I know the national government has a system, and though it has its virtues, I must abide by my own virtues as well. The local government must take control of its own issues, not be delegated to being a bitch to its owner... but even if I can''t change that, then I''ll just simply disagree. As much as I love this country, and as much as I agree with its virtue of money being everything, I must take it another step further to avoid being made a fool."
He knelt even closer to the body, and whispered through gritted teeth.
"So if you want my money, you''ll have to rip it out of my cold dead hands.
He stood up.
"Welp.
That''s that."
He whistled away as the large Doxen ate the evidence. The Doxen vanished into spiritual nothingness after finishing.
Nonchalantly, he quietly ran over to his motorcycle, and drove calmly into the night.
Upon contemplation he reminisced about the scene.
"Money...
Money...
Money...
*snort*
PAHAAHAHA!" cackled the young hooligan.
It''s what runs the world. It''s what grants people power. It''s what enables people to pay for food. It''s what markets, housing, and society is built upon.
"As long as we have it, we''ll never diiiiiiiiiiie!"
We''ll never die.
We''ll never die.
.
.
.
"...sir?"
"Hm?"
Chad stood in the middle of a big sport department store.
"I asked if you knew where the biking section was?"
"Huh... Oh uh... yeah.
It''s right near the back corner of the store. Do you see the little poster where it says ''biking'' on it?"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, that''s where the biking section is."
The customer walks over there.
Chad looks at what he was wearing, where he was, who he was.
He then remembers.
Present day. Chad Bernard, Store Manager at Cock''s Sporting Goods. His hair was shorter, styled into a buzz cut. He grew a couple inches. 6''2". That''s not bad. That''s not bad at all. He was a lot bulkier, but instead of having a dad bod, he still had that balanced mesomorphic physique. It took him several minutes to realize that in his hand, he clutched onto a heavy grip trainer. Clutching onto it with all of one''s might for several hours with barely a couple pauses made for a good workout. That''s the closest thing he could register as "difficult" at his job. Move a bench press for display? Sure. That''ll take five minutes to do. Order equipment to restock items? That''s not hard, not hard at all. It''s just tedious. Anybody without a degree could drone this job, that''s why he took it in the first place. A job that pays above minimum wage, even by three dollars more per hour, that''s not bad. Not bad at all. Especially for six days a week, all while taking some holidays off, oh, now he''s making some real money. And think about all the expenses, or lack thereof. It takes about an hour to drive from home to work; so to not spend any money at all, why not just take a bicycle to work? Only have to wake up a couple hours earlier, plus with his physique, he barely has anything to worry about. A good workout to start the day. A very healthy schedule. That''s not bad.
Not bad at all.
.
.
.
Several hours later, he arrives home. He opens his garage and places his bicycle where his motorcycle used to be.
He enters his house and opens his mom''s room.
"Hey ma... I''m back..."
No response.
"If you need anything just... let me know...
I''ll be in my room so...yeah..."
No response.
He heads upstairs. He gets some fresh clothes and takes a shower.
He stands in the cold shower for forty minutes.
Afterwards, he sits down in front of his computer.
He looks at his library of games. He stares, clicking around at which one to play.
...
After five minutes of not being up for everything, he switches over to YouTube.
He scrolls through several recommendations within his page. It takes him fourteen minutes to finally click on one.
...
On the second minute of the first video he clicked on, he paused the video, and turned off the monitor and laid in bed.
He stared at the ceiling for half an hour.
A phone vibrates near his pillow.
Confused, Chad looks at his phone.
It''s a message from his friend.
He gently smiles.
Origin: Solomon Belko
6 months ago.
It was a typical Sunday afternoon.
Solomon drove all the way to Utah to hangout with Chad. It was their third in-person meetup. They''ve been fishing for the past 3 hours. The sun was bright and warm, the fish were plentiful and ripe. Tall grass fused with the sand, as two lawn chairs rested by a pond. Solomon wore an unbuttoned red Hawaiian shirt, blue cargo shorts, red flip flops, an orange bucket hat, and those iconic cracked sunglasses. Meanwhile, his friend wore khaki shorts, Disney Cars crocs, and a floral pattern bowling shirt.
ring-ring-ring-ring
"oh, dude!, I think I got something!" whispered Chad.
Belko leaned over in quiet amusement.
"Well? Let''s take a gander at it!" he replied with a smile.
Chad used all of his unga strength to rip the fishing line that was a quarter of a mile away back towards himself in almost an instant, reeling reeling reeling until the treasure was in their hands.
It was a carp. A crappy, dinky, dull little carp.
"Solomon! Look! We got it! We got a fish!"
"Yeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!" shot Solomon out in excitement.
"Let''s put it in the cooler so we can cook it at home."
"Agreed."
"Now then, where were we?" asked Chad.
"You asked about my past."
"Ah! Yeah, yeah, sorry, continue."
"No worries. Would you like me to start all the way from the beginning? Or some specific parts."
"I mean, I''m in no rush, I''m gonna be with you all day so... yeah fuck it, go ahead, I don''t mind."
"Whole thing?"
"Whole thing. Not a single ounce left out."
"Heheh, aaaaaaallright" chuckled Solomon.
"It all started in my humble little town in Gary, Indiana.
It wasn''t a very nice place to grow up in, not at all, no. From what little mama told me about the family, her daddy''s been stuck there as a kid, and her daddy''s daddy''s been there since they were a kid. Due to the economy crashing all those years ago, things only got worse and worse. People got poorer, the city grew desolate, the lucky ones moved out, and those who stayed got swallowed. The misery that sapped at the town''s people grew ''longside the vines that enveloped the buildings. In no time, the city got blotted out, and everyone forgot its existence. I wouldnt be surprised if the government stopped taxing Gary simply because they forgot about it!" chuckled Solomon.
"Everyone was poor and dirty. Even the top dogs, the mayor and the gangs weren''t too different from the rest of us. We only ate canned goods, rice and beans back then. But even those who trampled over us didn''t eat steak more than twice a month, I know damn well for sure."
Solomon paused. He stared at the grass as his expression of nostalgia morphed into a quiet monotone stare.
"Mommy took solace in the lord. In the bible. When her daddy hit her, she talked to the lord, praying for better times. The lord answered, and eventually, her daddy died in a car accident. I don''t think that she specifically wanted her daddy to die, but when one asks the lord for favors, beggars can''t be choosers- quite literally. Would you agree?"
Chad pondered for a sec.
"I can see what you''re saying, but I think it''s more of a case by case thing. If anything, I don''t think every solution should warrant an extreme answer."
"But it gets the job done, no?"
"Ehhhhhhhh. Again, I can see what you''re saying but like... I guess."
Solomon chuckled.
"Shall I continue?"
"Don''t need to ask."
"Alright.
Now, Mama was alone. My mama was only 4 years old when her mama died; so growing up, she didnt have anyone to live with, except for the rats and cockroaches that lived within her walls and in her pillow and underneath her bed and in the floorboards in this tiny little apartment. Eventually, she didn''t have any way of paying for rent, so what was the plan? Find a man.
Find a man she did, and within a few months, she got me.
Unfortunately, daddy died when I was too young so I don''t ''member much but uhhhh.... I like to imagine he was a fine man. Mama said he was either a carpenter or a plumber... and aside from that I don''t ''member much.
So it was just me and mama, living in a little rundown house at the edge of town. Mama couldn''t work because of her bad arm, so we just had to barely scrape by on what we found."
"Rats?" propped up Chad in a sarcastic tone.
"Prayers!"
"N-oh fuck," groaned Chad as he face palmed.
"We ate around three times a week, and if we got lucky, we would go by the grocery store dumpsters every other Saturday and find free canned goods that were only expired by one day. By one day! Can you believe it? They were throwing away perfectly fine food over a label. Tch, bet they feel so stupid.
Anyway, even though we had some success with praying, momma insisted that we pray and pray and pray all the time; whenever we had a spare moment. It''s like a lottery, except the only thing we''ll be spending is our time, and when it comes to the lord''s infinite charity, you just gotta keep askin'' for it. Now, I know what you might be thinking: if god is so full of goodwill, why didn''t we eat everyday? Or live in a better place, a place where there weren''t holes in the roof, or rats underneath, or fungi on our skin, or clear water" chuckled Belko nervously.
"But that''s the thing:
A. The lord is a busy man. He may be almighty, but there are some folks out there who need that superhero miracle more than us. Maybe a guy who needs to survive from a car crash, or someone who''s starving more, ya know?"
"Totally" responded Chad.
"And B:
It''s a test."
Chad tightened his lip and furrowed his brow.
After a brief pause, Chad asked: "...what?"
"The lord is testing. Testing us. All of us
Why else would we have hardships in life? Why else would our everlasting strength and love for one another, neighbor to neighbor exist? Why else would we cause strife against one another? If it isn''t to teach and punish those who are against our collective wishes, then surely, it''s simply because they want to cause distrust within our human communion. Hes testing our faith, giving birth to these tempters and naysayers, watching our reactions and judging us so. Nobody deserves to live if it''s not for the sake of the greater good. No. No. Simply impossible, unbearable. I''ve lived through that mistake before, but momma made sure to correct that a long time ago. And I''ve talked to the lord one too many times (though, it''s never enough to see the man mind you), but I''ve seen him enough to know that he''s up there, that he''s there listening. And my actions are more than enough to prove that."
Chad shook his head.
"How so?"
Belko chuckled.
"How so? You hearin'' him?" asked Belko as he pointed towards his friend.
"I''m an agent of God ya know!" answered Belko.
"Like an angel or a preacher or...?"
"No- nonono. Nothing like that. Angels are divine spiritual creatures who work the fabric of reality to cause little miracles and fight demons and such. Angels may work things from the perspective of sayyy....a head director or a uh...
uhm....
What''s the word for a really busy business man?"
"Really busy business man."
"That- yeah!
I''m more of a debt collector. I reap the sins of these people as a righteous tool of god, in the name of god, for his true holiness, always and forever; Amen. And as a preacher I mean... I guess that''s the closest thing to my role in life. However, there is one key difference.
Actions always speak louder than words".
Chad made small little clapping gestures with a smile.
"Bravo
Now, continue with your story."
"Right, right.
So I was with mama for basically my entire life back home. We never had money for schooling or... really anything, so most of my education was from mama and the word of the lord."
Belko paused.
.
.
.
He resumed.
"I read that book everyday. Whenever I wasn''t praying, or scavenging, I was reading the holy word...
Mama had me read that book all the time. And what happened when I finished it? Read it again. She commanded me to read that book until I memorized every single verse. And I happily obliged to mama''s wishes. Of course, there''s times where I didn''t read for a night or two because the scavenging was so exhausting that day or because we haven''t eaten in a week or so. But mama was right in doing what she did. From the perspective of a mother, and from the perspective of a true follower of the lord, it was only just. Punishments are served for a reason, and thus, I never repeated them again. That''s how people learn. Isn''t that right?" he chuckled.
Chad wrinkled his nose and gave an expression of dismay.
"Uh... sure man."
Solomon continued.
"But, that''s kinda the gist for a majority of my years there. Now, where it really changed was when I was 14. I was tired of starving at home and I wanted mama to be happy and to live in a nice little house with actual working electricity and gas and to use water that wasn''t brown. That''s when I got my first job.
I was a delivery boy for the local mafia."
"I''d assume their logic was that they saw an old poor runt scavenging, saw me as a little guinea pig, and offered me an easy job. I probably impressed them something fierce because for some reason, they never found a reason to kill me, and I never seemed to disappoint them. At first they offered me drugs as a form of payment, but I denied it all. I explained to them that it''d be way cheaper to not use drugs as a form of payment since it takes away from the supply itself, and to just pay me with cash. Things went surprisingly well. I held my first hundred dollar bill at age 14. That was a monumental moment in my life. I was finally able to feed mama and myself decently. Instead of canned foods that expired by a couple days, we ate canned foods that were about to expire in a couple days. In other words, we ate like kings. I knew mama grew lonely since I went to work, but seeing as how she always talked to the lord or read the bible, I think she got herself occupied some, so it all worked out for the time being.
Business was good; so good the neighborhood started tipping. Everyone at 8 in the morning waited outside their doors, knowing that I would be ringing the bell on a bike that the mafia gave me, passing out all the white medicine like newspapers. For how miserable the city was, I like to think it was alright.
One day however, and I remember this day, May 18th 2002, that''s when I found my new love. I was bored, I just finished my shift at work, and I saw some kids hanging outside a comic book shop. I''ve heard of them before, didn''t think too much of them and was like ''what the heck, I got time to spare''. I entered and saw colorful thin books; their covers covered in weirdos dressed in odd clothes and weird auras and fierce situations. It seemed blasphemous. I hated it.
So I left.
.
.
.
Then twenty minutes later, I came back...only to leave again.
I didn''t enter that shop for days. Yet it haunted me; enticing me like a serpent, whispering and corroding away my patience. Those odd weapons and multicolored laser and stone men and gray figures and an uncomfortable amount of people wearing underpants outside of pants, It disturbed me. It made me obsessed. I couldn''t take it. I couldn''t sleep. I was wondering all those nights ''what is it? Why is it so damn weird...And why do I want to read it?''
Finally, I gave into temptation.
And I wished I didn''t.
I went in there one Wednesday and picked up my first comic book issue: Superman.
It was magical, it was unbelievable, and it was beautiful. This savior, this man of virtue -and I hate to say this- but he rivaled the likes of Jesus. It was weird. It was wrong. And I loved it."
"I immediately made a huge mistake.
I showed this to mother.
I never meant to worship a god other than the lord himself, but that''s the way she took it. I was flogged, rightfully so. But I couldn''t help it. I lied. I kept them all between floor boards and read them every night. These people, these virtuous freaks inspired me. It made me believe, it made me hope, and it made me think. It was a toxic hobby. Pretty soon, it was harder and harder to hide all these comic books.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.Time passed, I was 16 years old now, and the mafia upgraded me from a rinky dinky bicycle to a rinky dinky Black Corolla 98. It was full of rust. It was riddled with bullet holes. It was filthy. And I loved the shit out of that thing. And I still do" smiled Solomon as he glanced at his companion of 12 years.
"Deliveries were faster, I got to go on business trips around the state, gain more money, and it was a real good time."
Chad leaned over and asked, "Wait wait wait, you were able to go around the state and do these drug deals for the mafia? Why didn''t you just run away?"
Belko tightened his expression.
"I know what you''re thinking, and you have a point. However, I''m not going to pretend I wasn''t na?ve back then. I could''ve, and deep down, I knew that I could. But I also had my mother, my shack that became an actual livable house, my belongings, and to a dumber extent, I had my job. I had it all there. I was ignorant and afraid of the outside world. I wasn''t ready for freedom then. Ah but-"
He turned over to Chad
"we''ll get to that sooner than you''ll think" he finished with a smile.
"Things were going great. I had a decent job, I had food, a roof above my head, all nifty things that I''ve been praying for 17 years.
I was comfortable...
And by gum, he just had to show up."
Solomon''s face wrinkled into a sour expression. Skewed between bittersweet happiness and sadness.
He chuckled.
He started breathing heavily.
He chuckled.
"Pahaha...That silly man, not that I mean to call his holiness silly. It''s just a coincidence. A funny moment.
I know I said that mama and I talked to the lord when we prayed. Mama would often explain how she would talk to the lord, and hell, I''ve walked in on them discussing back and forth. Er well, it seemed like that at least, of course I couldn''t hear the lord''s voice, but I knew they were at it. And finally, at that moment, that moment. Right as I was using the restroom at the McDonald''s, heaving over a large dump, I heard him. I was finally blessed.
And it''s funny. How we all pray to him. We pray for better times, easier times. But at that moment -like I said before- the lord tests us all.
For the lord said unto me heart wrenching news. In three days time, he will task me with the most potent test of them all. And from there, the line of fate would be set for me.
It''s a good thing the lord talked to me at that moment, since I was constipated that morning. And with that cold, booming voice of his, if whatever they put in McDonald''s food was the thing that plugged me up- this damn well scared it out."
Solomon wiped his nose as he sniffled. His voice quivered through an awkward chuckle.
"And at that moment, in that very bathroom, that''s when my life turned around instantly.
I heard voices of those around me. No, it wasn''t the lord''s voice, I could tell the difference. These were normal people, speaking in their everyday tone. They were speaking without actually speaking.
''This man looks ugly''
''I wonder what I''m eating for dinner tonight''
''That was definitely a body I saw under the bridge that other night''
''What a fine ass she has.
wait, that''s a guy.
Eh, still would''
Those were the first things I heard as I left that accursed bathroom.
I didn''t sleep that night.
For those couple days, it was an on and off stream of mundane thoughts coming from all these people.
As I arrived home, I accidentally took a glimpse at my mom''s inner conversations."
Belko slowly motioned a hug towards himself, tightly gripping at his elbows.
Behind those pitch black sunglasses, his eyes widened.
"I could not look away. I could not go back.
Inevitably, the third day struck. I was working and unfortunately had the misfortune of hearing my boss'' thoughts on me as he briefed me on the new assignment. Aside from that, I was fearing the entire day. I loved the lord, the only thing I could ever love more than my mother. But I was far from eager.
As I blanked out on that red light, that''s when it happened.
The lord made himself known. Booming, commanding, bold, cold and hollow. A voice without a face. A hooded figure with a pale veil and an uncaring sensation.
He tasked me with the trial that Abraham failed to enact, thousands of years ago.
I argued and argued, begged and asked if there was anything else I could do.
He asked me if I loved my mother more than him.
How could I say no. How could I say yes?
Torn, I drove.
I drove forward. From 4 pm to 2 in the morning. It was inevitable, for the lord''s leash and my fate were one in the same.
That night I arrived home and I... embraced my mother for the last time.
But deep down I knew, she wouldn''t have wanted it any other way."
Belko paused for around 5 minutes.
He wiped his eyes.
"Anyway, the deed was done, and the lord rewarded me with his mark."
Belko raised his right palm and showed it to his friend.
"That''s where I got this dandy little thing.
Yup. I went straight to bed. Went to work that morning. Apparently, this was the most important delivery of the year. So important, the goons that have known me for a couple years now patted me down and ordered me to put everything on the table and aim their guns straight at me. Like come on guys first off, you already know I have practically nothing, and second off, I can hear your minds hating this tedious process already so, chill. But whatever, basic gist, blah blah blah, something to do with national syndicate business blah blah you get it. Hell, the boss wasn''t even really paying attention to what he was saying, his mind was too busy insulting me and thinking of using me as bait, completely expecting me to be killed in the delivery. Which was probably why they didn''t assign any guys to come with me in the actual delivery. You know me, I believe its uncouth to swear but shiiiiiieeeeeeeeeettt. I take the briefcase, leave the facility, head to my car, whatever. In the entire walk there, all I could think about was my frustration in the situation. Oh how I wished the Lord could strike all of those men down in one fell swoop. Funnily enough, that''s the first time my mark got triggered. I felt a sting upon my hand and something oozing out of it. That was pretty annoying. Not as annoying as figuring out that I forgot my keys on the table when they told me to empty everything out so I had to walk all the way back and-
They were dead.
God listened, and they were dead.
The boss had 15 bullets inside his chest. One goon successfully strangled another, before bleeding out. A chunk of skull and brain was right in front of the door, in which I''m assuming someone threw their head to the door knob so hard, it managed to do... that. In the span of the seven minutes it took me to walk to my car and back, someone''s face and chest had already been flayed off and stained the entire floor in gore. Those were only a couple of the bodies but I think you get what I walked into.
Welp.
My expression was one of slight surprise, but not shock.
I guess I got what I wanted.
God listened.
The only person I cared about was dead.
My job killed itself in the span of 7 minutes.
There isn''t much incentive to really stay here anymore. Hell, I practically bought up all the comic books I wanted from the store, and read all the other ones I wasn''t interested in keeping.
...
Well, I do have this briefcase on me right now, and nobody''s going to be missing it so why not take a crack at it. I''m not going to be busy any time soon so why not.
I slam the thing on the table; keep in mind this thing is huge. It felt like I could cram an entire torso in the thing. I examine its slick silver exterior and bullet proof texture. It felt like something that The Lord made himself and said ''here, don''t lose it.''
...
Here goes nothing.
I try the first code that came to mind
``000`` ``000``
It unlocks
Say it with me now
''Are you shitting me.''
I open the pearly gates.
Money.
A lot of it.
How much?
Enough
Enough for what?
Who knows. But the thing that is true is that it''s enough for anything .
Welp.
If anything, the thought of stealing the corpse''s wallets was unnecessary considering the portable bank I have in my hand. But they did wrong me. However, it''s the lord''s teachings that state to not covet thy neighbor. Then again, murder is prohibited, yet Saint Michael is tasked with slaying all the opposers and non-believers. A moral dilemma considering I wasn''t trying to step on the lord''s toes. UNTIL- I came up with my life''s philosophy.
Seeing as how I am an agent of the Lord, and all of these events happened because of fate, logically speaking, the lord would want me to take all their wallets. He would only want the best for his loyal servant. Makes perfect sense to me.
I reach into the back pocket of the boss.
I take out his glamorous wallet.
I studied it. It''s magnificent leather texture, it''s embroidered gold digits and-
In my admiration, I had a delayed realization, as a brown stain from the wallet had leaked upon my hand.
I forgot that dead people did that.
And for the first time in my line of work, I screamed like a little girl."
Out of disbelief Chad took a second to connect two and two together.
Chad propped up and hesitantly asked
"So... what I think happened... happened?"
"Yes."
"Oh.
That''s gross"
Belko slowly turned to his friend
"Very."
After a brief pause, Chad continued.
"So...? What happened next? Is that where the story ends?"
"Eh, close.
In basic terms, I got the briefcase, went home, got all my comic books, kissed Mama goodbye, and then I drove. Straight forward. No real plan, and just went where the road guided me. I read books here and there, talked to people here and there, and I think the closest thing I''d call this little venture is like a modern cowboy ya know? Just me, my bottomless bag of money, whatever I was craving that day, and the will of the lord. I know it''s a little silly, but I like to think I became my own comic book character that day."
Belko chuckled then continued.
"Wishful thinking, wishful thinking.
Anyway, the first thing I did: I went to Denny''s.
Had delicious food..."
Chad scrounged up his nose at what Belko had just said.
"And I just continued. It really is that simple. All these years kind of blended together. Had some little hiccups here and there but, it''s their problem if they didn''t want to comply to the wishes of the will of the lord so-"
Solomon made a shrugging gesture
"You know how it is! I had to do what I had to do!
Thank god I awoke a new ability somewhere along the way, because as it seems, whenever I didn''t want to be seen from a scene I just kindaaa.... vanished. Whenever the lord wanted me gone from an incident, he used his holy magic and nobody would be none the wiser."
Chad made a pausing motion with his hand.
"Wait, is there really no specific day you awoke this ability?"
"As far as I remember uh... nah I just left a bathroom stall at a McDonald''s, looked at a mirror and said ''Woah what the heck. That''s not normal''. And that was kind of the end of that."
Chad raised an eyebrow and patted his friend on the shoulder.
"You are...one entertaining character you know that? I swear you''re on the spectrum but hey, I love you for it" smiled Chad.
Belko welcomed the smile.
"I don''t know what that means, but I appreciate it.
Now I''m almost done uhhh...
right!
Somewhere along the line, I saw these people typing in these flat technological books- clicking and tapping away. It was annoying, and I wondered ''what in the goddamn are they doing, and what in the hell is that thing''. Found out they were called ''Laptops'' and I''ll admit, I thought they were tacky at first. Hard to use but I''m glad I jumped over that hurdle, or else I would''ve never met you and the others!"
They both smiled.
Chad asked a question:
"By the way, how did we meet up again? I remember it was through some forum... or something but I forgot the details."
Belko happily obliged.
"Oh yeah this one''s funny; someone was arguing that Batman could beat all of the Avengers alone. And I don''t think you were much of a comic book guy right?"
"Not really aside from the classics here and there."
"Yeah, but you saw how ridiculous the statement was, right? I schooled that guy and you were one of the adamant people on my side, even calling him names over the internet. It was a silly debate but I saw that you were a cool guy, vice versa, and we bumped into each other here and there in other discussions, traded tags and I think we''ve been in touch ever since right?"
"Yeah, I think that''s kinda it haha.
If anything, it''s weird that by sheer coincidence, we all have magic powers and such yet, we met through pretty normal means. Aside from Edward and others, but that''s more of its own thing of course but idunno, I just thought it was pretty cool."
"Agreed," answered Belko.
.
.
.
Chad started.
"Dont you think it''s weird that in the couple years we''ve been friends, we haven''t really told each other our life''s stories. Don''t you think that''s weird?"
Belko thought for a bit then answered.
"I''m not used to friends or such, but whenever I talk to a stranger, I don''t expect them to spill their life''s story, even at gunpoint.
I suppose it''s a slow brew. We tell each other bits and pieces here and there. And whenever it''s a critical moment, I believe that''s when friendships grow.
Chad tilted his head.
"Yeah...
Yeah, that''s...that''s as clear of an answer that I''m gonna get."
And so the goons reminisce.
Tied together by terroristic endeavors, their shared malice grew into a fine fiendship.
The sunset simmered.
Their evil eyes gaze upon fate.
As the sun falls down, slowly but eventually.
If not by their hand, then by their actions.
Domino, domino, domino.
You''d be surprised by how petty humans can be.
Average Day: Growing up
It was the same Sunday.
Solomon and Chad were still out fishing.
Solomon propped up.
"You know, you were always so full of life, so cheerful back then. Not that I''m trying to insult you or anything but you''ve been seeming a bit... different lately. Are you okay? What''s up with that?"
Chad raised his eyebrow.
"I don''t know what you mean?"
"For example in your old videos, you used to run around and yell and have this glowing aura. Now you seem a lot more reserved. You sure you''re good?"
Chad chuckled
"Tch ah... yeah.
Idunno.
....
I guess I grew up..." he ended with a smile.
...
...
Chad continued.
"Y''know, its funny you bring it up.
Back then, all I really cared for in the world was money and video games. Yeah I was a stupid kid having fun but it really does feel like there was just one day where I snapped out of it.
...
It''s...it is funny.
To this day, I would spend a fraction of my paycheck on a new videogame that I was only slightly interested in. And then once I got it, I play it for what- one... two hours maximum? And then I never touch it ever again.
...
...
...
Eating out is fun once in a while... but I only ever do that once a week..."
A brief pause occur.
Solomon propped up.
"So what do you do with your money nowadays?"
"Save it. Maybe put it in the stock market. Buy groceries... yeah."
Solomon scratched his head then proceeded to ask.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident."By the sounds of it, it seems like you have a lot of it. Is that really all you spend on? What about paying for your house or car repairs or medical bills? Granted I don''t know much about them but that''s because I actively avoid them. But you on the other hand, you live in a relatively normal world."
"PFFTTWWWHAHAHAHA!" laughed Chad.
"First of all, paying for house rent is the opposite of what I''m doing. I believe that buying land should only be a one time deal, and even then its only a necessary evil since its just the way this country has been molded. Then again, I don''t really follow those rules."
Solomon looked over towards his friend
"So doesn''t the landlord come knocking on your door?"
"Nah. I take care of that."
"Really? Do you bribe him? Some under the table deal?"
"No. If it was that simple I would''ve paid them in the first place."
"So what do you do?"
"I wouldn''t worry about it."
"... I see...
Wait, then wouldn''t they just send another landlord?"
"I''ve got it all figured out, don''t worry.
My town is quiet enough to the point that there''s not a big police force. And even when I do my business, I hide my tracks real good so, no need to worry about it."
Solomon smiled.
...
And then he continued to ask.
"Wait- so is that all you really do with your money? Just save it?"
"Yeah."
"Then... then what would be the point if you''re not spending it? Being thrifty is a virtue, but if you''re making so much and you''re not going to do anything with it... Then why work so hard?"
"In all honesty... I don''t know either. I save and save and save all this money. But spending it just goes against my creed. I have a jeep but I only use it when I need to go far away or I buy a lot of groceries. Otherwise, I bike to work. I buy some technology here and there and yet, the last thing I bought was my pc, and that was four years ago. You remember that motorcycle I used to ride?"
"Yeah?"
"Sold it."
"WHAT?"
"Yeah. I had fun with that thing, but now she''s in good hands, and now I''m $4,000 richer."
Solomon kept on scratching his head.
"I know I''m the one with a bajillion bucks in my hands but by the sounds of it, you sound way richer with your attitude."
"...In what regard."
"Oh I mean like, you sound like you know what you''re doing is all."
Chad loosened up.
"Oh haha, I suppose... but hey, it''s the most important thing in life... After all, it buys happiness, right?" Chad replied with a forced smile.
『Chapter 1: Hotel California』
1:24 PM
It was a hot and steamy day, typical Californian weather. The sun''s heatful gaze spared no one in its malicious radiance. All suffered indiscriminately, ranging from sweating excessively to nearing a heat stroke. A semi-busy city was conducting its ordinary day to day life.
Two American strangers in their 20s stepped out of a cramped smelly bus.
One a tall, muscular blonde man with a faux hawk, standing at 6 ''2", wearing a red tank top, triangular sunglasses, unnecessarily stylized crocs that look like they were meant for children, and tan shorts. He dragged along a decently sized rolling bag.
His comrade was a shorter, skinnier man standing at 5''8". His crusty green jacket showed its age with hints of tatters and a noticeable musk- the latter of which wasn''t helped by the smoldering heat. Underneath that jacket was the man''s crimson Hawiian shirt with white tropical trees as its accents. A neat red Bucket Hat hid the man''s small fuzzy mohawk; all of it tied well into his eccentric appearance. And for once, the man was wearing shorts. Jean shorts. Jorts. Stapled to his head were black cracked sunglasses that the stranger was rarely seen without. Finally, he wore worn dirty work boots that have shown its age. He carried along a suspicious metallic silver briefcase that was handcuffed to his left wrist.
"Solomon..." started the tall one.
"Its ninety-seven degrees outside.
You should really take that jacket off. I don''t understand why you decided to wear it when you knew it was going to be hell out here."
The shorter man shot back a smile, wiping the copious amounts of sweat that pooled about his brow.
"Nah man its -huff- it''s fine, really!"
Chad, the tall one, shook his head in disappointment.
"If you faint on me, I''m going to be real upset."
"Don''t woorrrryyyy about it! The hotel''s just right there. They''ll have decent A/C, and its all well!"
"...I don''t....ok."
The two of them walked towards the hotel entrance. One that has seen better days, busier days. One that used to house royalty and business executives. One that''s regal paint dulled since its golden age. One that had it all. One that had a falling out with business rivals and local natural conundrums. One that had a glowing status for years, before having the misfortune of a single mishap, and now the world looked at it with indifference. One that was swallowed by sin. One that became one among the rest, losing its voice within the midst of the blood of the innocent.
The two inconspicuous men showed up at the front desk. A sweet, short female attendant was doing her job, concentrating on appearing as if she wasn''t bothered by the heat but wasn''t doing such a good job at it.
Solomon sported his eerily cheesy smile. One that was forced and too friendly, that it screamed unease against those who were greeted by it.
Chad''s was a relatively blank yet still bothered face. It wasn''t his fault it was 97 god damn degrees outside.
"Let me do the talking" whispered Chad to his compadre.
"Hi there, we''re here for the hotel key, we set up our room online under the name Griffon."
"ah alright..."
she typed it in.
"First name?"
Before Chad could stutter and realize that he never asked Solomon the first name, Solomon saved the day with an unflinching solid response.
"Bryan."
"Ah haha, I think I''ve heard that name before! Let me look it up."
Chad gave a brief glance towards Solomon, annoyed he would come up with something so stupid. Guess that''s what he gets for putting the most technologically inept person of the group with setting up things in the computer.
Solomon on the other hand lacked the necessary social skills to understand what he did. He was watching TV that same night and was stricken with creativity. That''s all there is to it.
The attendant then answered.
"Alright guys! Your room is 237. Enjoy your stay!"
"Will do" responded Chad.
They both entered the elevator alone.
Chad wanted to say something, but knew his... special friend wouldn''t quite get it. Whatever, it''s silly, but ultimately harmless.
.
.
.
They stepped out of the old elevator and marched towards their destined room in sync.
They open the creaky door.
There, their business partner sat on the bed with his many briefcases, waiting for their arrival.
A heavy man with a soft roundness to him. He sported an adorable tuxedo, black latex gloves, and well trimmed beard.
"Ah, there you are. Right on time as well."
"Now, let''s get to business."
He started unbuttoning his suit; his bare chest resembled a textbook bear chest, with all of its brief yet hairy glory.
"WOAH WOAH WOAH HEY HEY HEEEYYYY WHAT''S GOING ON TAKE IT EASYYYYY" clamored both Solomon and Chad in unison.
The business man looked confused.
"What''s the issue?"
"This is... this is not what we agreed to!" shouted Chad.
The businessman tilted his head and looked at his watch.
"OH- my god!
My apologies" replied the business man as he frantically buttoned his suit back up
He motioned for Solomon to close the door.
He did so.
"Sorry, sorry, that''s for my 2:30 meeting. You guys are the buyers at 1:30, correct?"
Solomon and Chad both calmed down as fast as they could before trying to carry on as if nothing happened.
"Y-yes," answered Chad.
"Aaahhhh, right right right.
"Welp, won''t be needing this!" responded the business man, sliding the white suitcase underneath the bed.
He continued talking while presenting the grey briefcase on the bed. "So, arms right?"
"Here''s what I can offer ya."
The two stood across from the bed and studied its contents.
It''s surprising, really. For some reason, maybe through the power of optical illusions, or optimized storage engineering, it seemed that the briefcase''s insides appeared larger than its outside build. It may have been the extreme heat and the lack of Air Conditioning that the two had a rude awakening about, but in the corner of Chad''s eye, he saw the edge of the briefcase blink. Shit, it seemed the hallucinations caused by the heat were starting to kick in, or so Chad thought.
A couple of handguns were laid out in front of them.
The business man started his schpeal.
"A Smith and Wesson Model 29; the type of revolver 80''s action heroes and modern cowboys would use. A hand cannon capable of taking down a buffalo in one clear shot. Its loud, its proud, and expensive, but it''ll do the job. Alongside it, a Colt official Police Revolver that- much like the hotel, has seen better days. Though it''s smaller compared to the beast of a gun right next to it, it''s simple and effective. If it was necessary for the police to use it, there''s no reason not to buy it. The Sig Sauer P226 handgun is a bit on the ugly side if I''ll be honest, but seeing as how its carried by several counter terrorist organizations, you can connect the dots. Colt 1911 chambered in 9mm. Need I say more? And a cute little ruger right here. I''ll be honest, this one''s more of a toy than anything but- whatever you use these for, this one''s just nice to have around to do whatever you do in style- ya know?
Over here I have a... handful of Hand Grenades. Mark 2, pineapple style grenades. You never know when you''ll need ''em."
Somehow, the briefcase went deeper. There were two submachine guns on the bottom. The businessman pulled them out as he continued.
"World War II era Grease Gun: its ugly yet simple, humble nature makes itself known. And hey, I''ve been trying to sell this one for a while so I''ll even chip in a little discount. The other one here is a Heckler and Koch MP5K- very compact, as you can tell. 900 bullets getting vomited out every minute. I think you already know that is one hell of a rate of fire. Check it out."
He handed the empty submachine gun to Solomon, while Chad inspected some of the other wares, even smelling the grenades as if they were fruit.
"And finally for my current selection, two shotguns.
This one here''s a sawed off coachgun. Cheaper side, it''s fun to shoot, enter a room- everything is going to be atomized, guaran-TEED.
And this slick son of a gun- heh I get it, anyway, this slick son of a gun is a Mossberg 500. You-" he said towards Chad,
"You seem like the strong type. I betcha you can easily recreate some action movie shots with this gun one handed!"
Chad received the shotgun and started feeling it out.
Some "hms..." here. Other "huhs..." there as they both looked around and felt the guns.
"So... see anything you like?" asked the Business Man.
"Hm... kinda." replied Chad.
"That shotgun did feel real natural..."
"If I may be honest..." continued Solomon.
"The stuff here is a little small for our tastes...not really in terms of size rather... selection...
But on top of that, it doesn''t really help that we''re kinda set right like... these guns are cool but-"
Solomon whipped out his own Colt 1911 and started waving it around and showed it off nonchalantly.
"This... this is a part of me, ya know?"
The business man smiled.
"I hear ya, I hear ya."
Solomon replied.
"Sorry, I don''t mean to insult your business or waste your time."
The Business man chuckled and shrugged
"Aw c''mon, you won''t hurt my feelings. I make a profit off of repeat business."
"Understandable," replied Solomon.
"Do you have anything you want Chad?"
"Uhm...."
"Kinda.
"How much for the Mossberg?"
"600."
"Hm. Alright.
And the Model 29?"
"A thousand."
Chad raised his eyebrows surprised
"Not bad."
"I will say though-" interrupted the Business man.
"It is a big gun. You might want this" he continued as he whipped out a rather large torso holster.
"Only 150. Highly recommend it."
"May I?" asked Chad
"You may."
Chad outfitted himself, testing the holster and how comfortable it was.
"And you said this gun was loud... is that right?" asked Chad.
"Very."
"Sold." agreed Chad in a nonchalant tone.
"Anything you want, Sol?"
"Eh... not really. For myself at least.
Maybe I''ll get the plastic fast gun for Liz. Yeah, she''ll definitely have fun with that one."
Chad and the business man both looked confused.
"Fast gun... the MP5?" they both said in unison.
"Yeah, the black tiny one."
"Uh... alright... 800" answered the business man in slight disbelief.
"Heard" complied Solomon as he settled down his own briefcase. He unlocked it and sifted through the ocean of wealth within... only to pull out eight dainty hundred dollar bills. He handed them over to the gay business man.
Gay means happy, come on now.
"Here ya go."
"A pleasure" gleefully smiled the merchant.
"Oh right uhm... do you think Edward wants anything?" asked Solomon towards Chad.
"Ehh... yeah... he''s got the basics down but I think we should get him a gun- just in case ya know?"
"Yeah.... you think the pistol would be good?"
"It would be good, and way more practical but... you know how he is. If it doesn''t fit his regal aesthetic he''s probably not gonna use it."
Solomon made a wry face
"Ugh...Hate to admit it but yeeeeeeaaaaahhhhh. I''ll get him the other skinny revolvo- Revolver. Bit my tongue." complied Solomon.
"300."
"Heard."
Meanwhile, as Solomon was paying the business man, Chad sifted through his own pocket and picked several hundred dollar bills. His wad of cash dwindled quickly. They both handed over the total to the business man.
"A pleasure" responded the Business Man with the same joyful tone.
"Same dude," responded Chad.
"Oh and- wouldn''t you boys need some ammo?"
Both Solomon and Chad looked at each other before slapping their own foreheads.
"Right- Duh!" they both exclaimed.
"You boys are lucky I sell in bulk. Here''s what you''ll need for the revolvers and pistols, here''s some slugs and buckshots for the shotgun, here''s for-"
Both of them were getting tired of the bottomless briefcase so Chad interrupted the business man.
"3000 dollars. We mix and match whatever we want."
"Straightforward. I like that" responded the Business Man.
.
.
.
"Now then..." started the Business Man.
"I believe that was all, is there anything else you boys need?"
"Yes, actually," replied Chad.
"Believe it or not, we weren''t here for the guns."
"Oh?"
"We''re here for the black briefcase."
"Ah."
The business man stood silent for a couple seconds, staring at Chad.
Chad sighed. He took a deep breath before he started chanting.
"???? ???????????? ?????????? ???????????? ??????????????. ?????????? ???????????????? ?????????????? ??????????."
The business man smiled.
"So you guys are the real deal," he replied with content.
The Business Man switched the grey briefcase on the bed for the black one underneath.
"You know, if you didn''t prove yourself, I would''ve scammed you guys. Lord knows I do business, but I pride myself in honest business. I understand what my customers buy and do with my wares are none of my concern, but this... this is the only time I worry. It''s like handing nuclear codes to the mentally unsound; if I''m not careful with who I hand the keys to, there''s a high chance I''ll get bit along the way. And granted, the same could be said for guns HOWEVER, the distinction lies not only in the nature of business (don''t shoot your provider), but in the temporal realm. We may have bullet proof armors and body guards, but in the realm of the unseen and the religious, the mystical and spiritual fuckery that bends the whims of reality, well... if protecting one''s self from weapons is hard, imagine the caliber this brings in...So again, excuse the bothering of the password, just a precaution, dig?"
Both of his customers shrugged and replied "Sure" in unison.
"Now," continued the Business Man.
"Pick your poison."
Much like the grey suitcase, a couple of the selections were fire-arm oriented. There were boxes of ammunition that reeked of vinegar. A single typical looking flare-gun with a Celtic rune engraved onto its side. A divine looking AutoMag V, a heavy, thick, slick, hand-gun that screamed professional assassin, along with an ivory grip that screamed for attention. Though it may look pretentious, anyone that looked at it had to admit, it demanded respect. Four slim talismans made out of dried out deer skin; though dried, anyone could tell that they were no older than 5 years. A fancy mardi gras mask that resembled giant owl eyes. A gashful serrated knife salivating for it to be used on some tough flesh; its wicked blade reaching the length of an average forearm. And last but certainly not least, a giant railroad spike with a marking that resembled a Big 6 toed Foot stood out from the rest.
Eyes wide and aghast; though limited in the number of selections, they knew that in this specific case, less was indeed more. Tempted and swayed, not by the typical hands of greed nor anything of such a desirable and worldly vice, the thousand arms of Mara called upon their ill-minded petty temptations. Nevermind thy self, one''s self, this wasn''t a matter of besting another man for the sake of securing one''s ego, nae- NAE, this was a matter of apish violence. Petty reasonings need no explanation when the otherworldly arms tempt thee. Through such simple yet effective means, the enemy of the mind whispered and hushed their shackles; guided by a simple leash, the lust of Man needn''t say anything, for it all spoke for itself. No matter how fortified a mortal may be through typical, "logical" reasonings, the other plane spoke, and made itself known.
Chad slurped up a dollop of drool; Solomon couldn''t help but... stare.
Chad snapped out of it first and asked:
"Mind...Mind uh- explaining what you got here?"
"Gladly," answered the business man.
"So I think it was the first thing you sensed, with the strong vinegar smell, these are ''holy'' bullets," explained the business man, making quotation marks with his fingers.
"As you know, physical objects can''t hurt spirits so, with a help of spiritually doused liquid, sprinkling them all over the ammunition, now you needn''t worry from either side of the plane."
"Ah... that''s pretty handy. How much?"
"500."
"Oh, that''s not bad-"
"-per bullet"
"PWAHHHH- there it is" exclaimed Chad, whiplashing him back to reality.
He turned to Solomon
"What do you think? Cuz I feel like this is a decent investment but- it''s gonna make a dent in the wallet."
Solomon nodded his head in agreement.
"I think it''s a good investment because, we aren''t exactly sure what they got. Yeah they can use magic but hey, who knows, the possibility of them using summons is very possible. I''d say let''s buy a magazine''s worth for every gun and use them as a sort of last resort if need be, no?"
"Yeah that''s fair I suppose. Split 50/50?"
"Brother-" Solomon cut off
"I got this."
"Based."
Solomon tilted his head at the compliment.
"What does that mean?"
"Like... really cool... I think."
"...Maybe... just say cool or thank you."
Chad gave a semi-sour face considering he was made out as the weird one of the two.
"Anyway," started up Chad,
"What''s with those 4 little dried up sticks?"
"Ah, these-" replied the Business Man,
"These are talismans. Native American to be specific. They summon a specific type of vessel into the real world called Hybrids."
The customers both tilted their heads.
"Hybrids...?" asked Chad.
"As expected, believe it or not, modern day sorcerers are rapidly evolving the field of magic. Typically, spirits can be summoned either through seals, chants, hand-signs, or what have you. Well, about two years ago, a group of sorcerers managed to find a new way to summon these spirits. By mummifying a fetus, wrapping it in recently marked mammal hide, they can spawn in a spirit into the physical world. As you know, spiritual markings are placed upon surfaces and that''s one of the classic ways to summon a spirit. However, through etching the unholy markings upon the hide, and the hide making contact with the unborn, the spirit uses the corpse as a vessel, stretching and growing its flesh as a makeshift body. And thus, the typically invisible spirit roams around in our mortal realm."
Both Chad and Solomon''s curious faces melted into a perturbed stare, almost regretting having asked the process.
"Wait but, why would anyone want to buy these? Spirits have the upperhand in terms of stealth" prompted Chad.
"Ah, that''s the thing, this is a beginner''s toy. I''m expecting at least one of you to know how hard spirit summoning is, right? It takes years to get the basics down and when it can go south on the first summon alone, well you just wasted your life. BUT, with these dandy little tools, it''s the baby''s first summoning program! Not to mention, one of these actually has a specific ability that is more suited for the physical realm than the spiritual. Niche, I''ll admit however, like I say- can''t spell NICHE without NICE."
The customers did that thing where they bounce their heads side to side in a "not bad" type of way.
The merchant continued.
"And again, since these are by some standards inferior to spirits, they''re on the cheaper side of the market; definitely more on the experimental side rather than practical but hey, there''s a market for everything after all!"
"Honestly... yeah, I''m sold," admitted Chad.
"Agreed," concurred Solomon.
"Not only that but we could give these to Edward and the others since they''re not that ready to tackle the higher ends of summoning. Plus it doesn''t hurt to get extra back up if need be.
How much?"
"$4000 each. But buy all four of them and i''ll sell them to you for the price of three!"
Chad''s face instantly contorted into one of excitement; a sale? A DEAL?
"Shit dude, lead with that next time!"
Solomon reflected upon Chad''s demeanor and was glad his buddy still had at least some semblance of that young spunky kid from Utah.
The Business Man chuckled.
"Noted. However, I will make a quick note: these two, avoid summoning these two together. I don''t know the intricacies or what happened between these two but they don''t like each other much."
He held up two of the talismans. One had a wolf''s skull with antlers etched to its side and the other bore the face with a large mouth and no other noticeable features.
"Understood" complied Chad, studying its sides, before putting them back and fishing money out of his own wallet.
Though the other items were distractingly beautiful for their own reasons, Belko couldn''t help but pay attention to the absurdly sized knife.
"What''s uh... what''s the deal with this li''l thing?"
"Oh this one?" Asked the Seller.
"This is one is real neat. It cuts anything the harder its durability is. Though it may have a hard time being used as a butter knife, stick this to a bear''s hide or the loin of a lion, they''re natural armor will be negated. Trust me, stab this in anyone or anything- you''ll be making steaks out of them right then and there. I heavily recommend it. You guys seem like gun type of fellas but trust me, you may never know when you''ll need these types of weapons."
Both of them pondered about it and within 15 seconds, they concurred with a resounding "yeah, can''t argue against it."
"How much?"
"$17,000."
Chad''s eye twitched.
"Ok" replied Solomon as he nonchalantly fished the money out of his briefcase.
"A pleasure" responded the Vendor as he received the cash.
"Naturally."
"Anything else for ya fellas?"
Both of them looked at each other before slowly turning their gazes towards the most vile artifact of them all: The Giant Railroad spike.
"So... which railroad track did you steal this from?" asked Belko.
"The government."
"Ah- right."
"But uh...what does it do?"
The Salesman chuckled.
"It bears the soul of America''s biggest hoax turned into reality. It doesn''t matter if it was a man-made myth or a Navajo legend spanning thousands of years, what matters is that the CIA is missing one of its spiritual nukes. Due to the way that spirits work, the constant appraisal and fear that spans generations has pumped this fella with enough power to take over a small country. It also helps that it has never been released before, so as its first incarnation, it doesn''t have the degraded quality of a regurgitated spirit. Pristine, big, and a black market buyer''s wet dream."
The buyers both looked tempted. Such power, right in front of their eyes. They could just kill this guy right here and now and take it all but... considering he''s of this side of the market, there''s something up his sleeve no doubt. But its calling... its calling. The voices of violence ever tempting. This would surely complete their goals at hand- pretty easily if anything.
NAE- nae, they have gotten this far with good relations. No need to obliterate a bridge when future help may be needed. That is business after all.
"How much" demanded Chad.
"14 Million."
Chad''s face was one of a distant, blank stare. As if he just processed a year''s worth of information in one second.
The news was so grand it took him a moment to come back to reality.
...
Wait a second...
Wait a second!
He turned to his pal Solomon like a kid turning to their father at Toy''s R Us.
And like the father in question, Solomon''s face was the opposite of Chad''s.
"Say...do you have... 14 million dollars?"
"Yes."
Chad''s face glowed.
Solomon kept his muted expression.
"So can we buy it?" asked Chad.
"No."
Flabbergasted, for the first time since his teenage years, Chad couldn''t hold his cool.
"but-BUT-"
he kept frantically pointing at the relic
"IT IS RIGHT THERE DUDE!"
Solomon tilted his head, gave a sour expression with his closed mouth and rebutted in a couple seconds.
"I understand, friend, however I''ll admit, this is one of the few purchases where it''ll actually cost a dent in my briefcase. We''re just gonna have to come up with a plan, or give up this opportunity. Simple as. And it''s not a big deal, there are plenty of opportunities down the road, and I''m in on this plan too. If anything, I''m more excited for it than you are but... the lord loves to test us in our path. Simply the way it is."
They both pondered for a bit; the Salesman sat at the side of the bed and waited patiently.
Chad started.
"Again, sorry if we''re wasting your time"
The vendor waved it off as he smiled.
"Trust me, you guys are entertaining enough."
.
.
.
Within 5 minutes, Chad snapped his fingers and turned to his friend.
"Let''s rob a bank."
...
...
...
Solomon shrugged.
"Okay!"
They paid the vendor for the guns, ammunition, wicked blade, and the four talismans.
A couple days passed.
8:24 AM
Out in a small quiet town, a small square-looking local bank opened up its doors.
There, the manager and all the tellers began their usual routine. Counting the money, checking the safe, activating all 14 features of hard press security in the comically sized vault in the back room. The couple of security forces and police officers on the premises were having their coffee to start their day. Chitchatting about their kids, grilling season, pork ribs vs steak, which one was better, "oh I think the Oakland raiders are going to win this season", "nah I have hope in this year''s candidate", "he''s a god damn psychopath", the typical Monday morning routine.
A skinny bank teller in his late 20s sat in his cubicle. A teenager soon walked in.
"Hey! You''re Mr. Caber right? Here for the checking account set up right?"
"Yes sir" answered the polite teenager in casual formal wear.
"Now is this your first account with us?"
"Not just with you guys, in general!"
"Oh well I''ll be! Trust me, its a lot easier than you think so don''t sweat a single thing."
At the bank''s parking lot, two suspicious men were marching towards the entrance. One of them was wearing their iconic red tank top, triangular sunglasses, baggy pants and combat boots; he came strapped with a menacing looking Remington 500 Shotgun. His partner was wearing a red Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, pitch black cracked sunglasses, and crocs; he carried an ominous looking box. They both also carried decently large sized duffel bags.
"Glad you finally ditched the Jacket" started Chad.
"Yeah, you were right," admitted Belko.
"I noticed you were sweating like a pig in there. Didn''t know you could keep a straight face for so long."
"Yeah well, lesson learned..."
"Yeah... that being said, are you sure this plan will work?"
"My brother in Christ-"
"I''m not Christian but okay" muttered Chad
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
"Right. Anyway, it''s a foolproof plan. Who pays attention to the large safe anyway? It''s a quiet town, people are minding their own business like any other day, it''s a typical boring Monday. And since we''re invisible, nobody will be none the wiser!"
"You say that but... we can still see each other ??"
"Oh come on, use your head friend! My ability makes it so that I''m the only one who can decide what gets seen by who! What would be the use of my ability if you couldn''t see me!"
"That is... a fair point..."
They both stopped right in front of Bank''s front doors.
They both stood there, silent.
Chad''s eyes twitched.
"What''s wrong brother? Getting cold feet?" asked Solomon.
"Nah it''s not... necessarily that. Just a matter of..."
He paused, only to momentarily face Solomon and death grip his shoulders
"Are you ABSOLUTELY- POSITIVELY SURE, ON YOUR MOTHER''S GRAVE, YOUR LOVE FOR YOUR GOD, AND OUR LIVES- that we are invisible"
Solomon winced from the sheer pain.
"Ah- OW, yes, of course!"
Chad let go and took a deep breath.
"Okay... just making sure. And, sorry for your shoulder."
"It''s fine..." muttered Solomon.
They pushed in the entrance of the door.
.
.
.
"So here, you put in your own pin code; it''s a 4 digit code that gives access to your card whenever you''re at an ATM or sometimes finalizing purchases" explained the Bank Teller.
"Ah gotcha! I''m gonna put it as... 8493!"
"You don''t... you don''t actually tell me that information ??"
As the bank teller was talking to the teenager, out of the corner of his eye, he saw two suspicious looking figures stroll inside the bank. They had duffel bags and... is... is that a GUN? They didn''t make any noise or any loud demands, they didn''t start any ruckus or shoot guns in the air to get everyone''s attention, they simply walked in. Seeing the otherworldly reaction that the Bank Teller''s face made, the teenager turned around to see what he was looking at. Their heart sank, stomach tying knot after knot after knot as they choked on said rope. They were an avid fan of violent video games, playing the usual first person shooter here and there but...seeing a real life gun up this close, being held by a complete stranger in a facility where guns had no logical place to be in, it could only mean one thing. He saw it. The Bank Teller saw it. The police and security forces took notice as well, as their jaws slowly dropped. Nevermind the scorching hot coffee that slowly spilled on their shoes, they simply did not know how to react. They were trained to take down hostile takeovers and emergencies in case trained bank robbers were to ever storm the building but... this was different. It felt like two average well-mannered customers were politely looking for where the bathroom was. On an emotional level, it felt like an Alien walking into your room, looking for your wallet and quietly walking out with it. It felt like meeting your bastard son for the first time since their conception 23 years ago and they turned out completely different from what you imagined. Heads or tails couldn''t be made. It really was something that came from a dream or short story written by a young adult or a short film directed by said young adult. The reaction was absurd; the air was tense.
"Hey... Solomon"
"Yes?"
"Are you sure that your ability is on right now"
"Why of course brother, why do you ask?"
"Ah ok! Just making sure because all of these people are staring riGHT FUCKING AT US," harshly whispered Chad.
"Oh nonsense, you''re just nervous. Now, hold this box for a sec."
"Alright. Wait, what''s in this box anyway?"
"Nitroglycerine"
"Ah.
...
Hey Solomon?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you please answer me a single question?"
"Anything you ask my friend."
"Can you explain to me what thE FUCK YOU WERE THINKING WHEN WALKING AROUND WITH A SHOEBOX FULL OF EXPLOSIVE POWDER?"
"We were going to blow up the safe. Must you ask a silly question?"
"Hey uh- and where would we go when it blows up?"
"We''d simply walk out of the bank and go back in when it''s done. What are you not getting, is this really such a hard plan to understand?"
"No, I really don''t think you understand how things would actually play out. The very second that goes off, the bank''s security is going to increase tenfold. Anyway, where the hell did you get that stuff anyway?"
"I''ve been carrying it in my luggage this entire time. A little frustrating since a little bit of it gets scattered on some of my clothes but otherwise, it''s pretty negligible. Also, I could finally use it for once! Like I say, best to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it."
"WHA- I- DUH-
DUDE"
Solomon shot back a semi annoyed glare.
"...what? If it''s so much of an issue for you, then how about you come up with a plan then."
Chad''s eye twitched.
The hall ended and presented a door. Through the door was the vault room.
A heavy, ten foot tall vault lock with its many locks and big wheel announced itself with its tons of steel plated armor and mighty presence.
Chad made a wry face
"Actually, I do have a plan," he announced.
"Hold this" he continued, handing Solomon his shotgun and duffle bag.
He rolled his shoulders, warmed up his wrists, pulled his neck side to side, did little jumps on the spot, took a deep breath, dried his hands from the bit of sweat he had accumulated and then finally, firmly grasped the handles of the safe''s knob. White knuckling to the extreme, all of Chad''s veins made themselves known; his beet red face said it all. His teeth were clenched so hard it neared the point of breaking his own teeth from the sheer ferocity of his own jaw force. Clenching and contracting, communicating every muscle fiber to heed his command. PUSH. PULL. PUSH. PULL. TURN YOU FUCKER TURN. A scream of anguish and testosterone filled the halls, notifying the increasing force of security coming their way. Huffing and puffing and chuffing, this was it, the pump. The sheer adrenaline of the task, the frustration of the mechanism not budging, the absurdity of it all, god, god, always me- why GOD. Is this your plan? To piss me off? Is that it? Is this the concept of god''s plan? To laugh at my face? Is the intent to rile me up and brute force my way into this impenetrable vault, because guess what!? Its working alright! Its fucking WORKING.
A pool of ravenous frothing drool gashed out of his mouth. Blood pooled out of both nostrils. It genuinely did look like the vein on his forehead was about to explode and squirt the liter of blood into Solomon''s face.
"Hey...Chad..."
He turned to Solomon.
With bloodshot eyes beneath those pointed sunglasses, a feral Chad shot back.
"WHAT?"
"..."
Solomon turned his head to the right, about to open his mouth before pausing and continuing with his original sentence.
"I don''t think this is working."
"Oh-"
Chad put his palm on his forehead.
"Oh- oh really? Gee, I didn''t fucking notice! By all means! Be my guest! Are you strong enough to pull this lever that weighs several tons! Well I sure as fuck didn''t know but HEY! Belko must be fucking stronger than me considering we are NOT going to use the nitroglycerin, and we don''t have the passcode so the only thing we CAN do is brute force our way in! Go ahead pal! Knock her out! I beLIEVE in you!"
Solomon made a displeased face.
"No, I think I''m good."
Chad, worn and huffing keeled over. After a brief 16 second break, he got up once again, took a deep breath and continued once more.
"Thought so."
.
.
.
"Hey Chad."
"GRRRFFNNHHHGGGRRR-HUFF
yeah?"
"By any chance, was this your only plan?"
Chad had a slight split second chuckle under his breath.
"You know, despite my appearances, I may seem like the dubiest himbo imaginable, but I''m far from stupid. Yes dude, I had another backup plan. It''s just that I''d rather bruTE FORCE HRGHH-
IT''S JUST- HUFF HUFF- ahg fuck you HUFF, it''s just that i''d rather not let him loose because he''s a pain in the ass to calm down. My family hasn''t summoned him in 117 years so, I''d rather not deal with that until I need to."
CLINK
A loud thud made itself known.
Solomon looked up shocked.
Chad himself was hornswoggled.
In a fit of excitement that he actually made progress instead of wasting time. Chad''s expression lit up; he clenched onto the handles to the point of imprinting his hands on them, anchoring himself to the ground, and then proceeded to give himself a near hernia experience as he forced the mechanism to break itself from the inside.
?????????? ?????????? ?????????? ?????????? ?????????? ??????????
"GGRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG"
The gears wrecked and mashed themselves. Thousands of pounds being hardered rather than smartered, the ancient vault was no use. Nevermind its outdated mechanism, since no man would be able to pull the sheer weight without the code regardless. But here, Chad stood, glowing with the force that his ancestors bestowed onto him. Glory, glory, glory to the Bernard name.
"???????
ϣӣ" he roared, pausing for a brief moment as he struck a muscle bound pose. His muscles quaked and burned. He felt the aftermath in his entire body from shredding itself. Though his soul given physical form was screaming, he couldn''t help but admit that for once in a long time, he felt alive.
Belko, admiring his friend, smiled.
"I''m glad you actually had it in you, friend."
"Yeah... me too I guess"
"Yeah. It''s a shame that this moment is a bit short lived."
Solomon pointed to the wall of special forces that crowded the door. It seems that due to the shocked nature of the security, instead of handling these two intruders themselves, they took advantage of the time that the distracted terrorists left them with, and instead called upon several SWAT forces. Armored vehicles that scattered the parking lot, civilians successfully escorted out and instead peeked through the yellow tape lines. It was clear that this was more of a spectacle than anything. Any reason to show off more guns never hurt anybody down South anyway. This was probably the most interesting thing to happen in their lonely little town since 1974. Maybe even the 1890s. Either way, a count of 80~ish rifles were aimed squarely at the two.
"This is the Police Department of Little California, stop what you''re doing, drop your weapons, raise your arms and get on the ground or else we will open fire."
All of the pigs smiled with malicious intent.
It didn''t matter whether or not they said the warning line or not. The outcome wouldn''t have mattered. They just need to say it to avoid any paperwork of "misdemeanor". Seeing as how the two would be seen as wrong by practically everyone in modern society, it again, didn''t matter.
Chad, too shocked to really process anything, experienced 14 different emotions at once. Unsure on whether or not he was going to experience a seizure or a breakdown first, he turned to his friend.
"Hey Solomon?"
"Yes?"
"Was your technique not on the entire time?"
"Before you kill me, do you remember how you gripped my shoulder really hard?"
"...
Yes."
"I believe that the pain you encumbered upon me distracted me at the time so I subconsciously let go of the ability. By the time I realized, it was already for naught."
"I see."
Chad looked down for a moment.
It seemed he contemplated for days despite only seconds passing by.
Two officers marched towards them at a steady pace.
He finally responded.
"You know Belko, I forgive you. Also, I''m sorry for snapping back at you earlier. That wasn''t cool of me, just a little heat of the moment, you know?"
"Yeah.
...
...
You know, I didn''t expect to meet the Lord this soon. It''s been over a decade since I last saw him but hey, at least it was my intended destination in the first place, no? And best case scenario, we only go to jail. We didn''t kill anybody this time but, I don''t think we''re gonna get out of this one. Here''s to hoping we''re jail mates."
The officer got close.
He pointed the barrel of his rifle at Solomon''s forehead.
Oh.
I see.
Well, my friend. I''m glad that in this life, I at least left with a loved one near me.
"OFFICER."
The cop sneered at Chad, finger on the trigger.
"Don''t worry, we''ll make this one qui-"
In a flash, Chad took advantage of the split second distracted officers. Punching the officer designated for him straight in the liver, then coming from behind the other one, turning him towards the other plethora of officers, strangling him with his left arm and taking hold of the rifle in his right arm.
"Solomon."
"Yeah?" replied the friend in shock.
"Turn invisible. Go out the backside, and run. I cannot stress that you run as fast and as far as possible. We''ll meet each other soon, one way or another."
The holy man did as he was told, disappearing from sight.
All the other officers panicked from the sheer sight of what just happened. First, this literal superhuman just took down two armed officers, took one hostage, and the other just evaporated into thin air. They didn''t want to shoot, no way! That was Corporal Nick! There''s not a single chance that they could take. They could try to aim for the head, but everyone is already thinking that, and the chances of harming the corporal were too high! Think of his daughter, think of all the grills he hosted! He was a local celebrity with a hot wife, humble "mansion" and most importantly of all, their boss.
The SWAT forces motioned the officers to stay back. The Officers argued back and motioned them to fuck off, they can negotiate with the terrorist. No way they would risk their boss'' lives for these strangers. Its one thing to let the big guys handle the trouble, but when trouble becomes trouble, no way in hell would they take the risk.
As the confusion, frustration, and bickering continued, a murmur could be heard.
All of the forces looked at each other. They can hear it. Jeffrey is that you? No, it''s Frank. I don''t sound like that, the hell are you talking about? John''s on my left side, it''s probably that guy.
A deep voice whispered to all of their consciousness. The presence of someone breathing down the back of their neck. The uncomfortable familiarity of a dog sniffling up close to their left ears. A voice whispering ancient Germanic in the right ear.
They all paid back attention to the main culprit. A subtle wicked grin spread from cheek to cheek.
Chad pushed the officer away and dropped the rifle.
???????????? ???????????? ?????????? ?????? ?????????? ????????
?????????? ?????? ????????????????????
?????????? ?????????????????????? ??????????????????
?????????? ???????? ?????? ???????? ????????????????!
He laughed and hollered in sheer excitement. Reminded of his teenage days, his jolly memories, his family rituals that he endured, he was pulled back into his pure essence.
The bottom of the room glowed.
Nordic Runes made themselves known, even to those who have never conceived the unseen realm.
Flashing lights warning.
With a wicked flick and malicious joy, he put his hands in the air and flashed two hand signs.
All of the forces fired their arms immediately. Heavy caliber bullets whizzed and bounced seemingly all around Chad. For some odd reason, no matter how strong the caliber, nor the rain of lead that came his way, nor the precise accuracy of the best, nor seemingly infinite eyes set upon him,
He remained unscathed.
All of the bullets stopped a few feet short of him. Silly, really, how the kilos of metal that they had sent towards the terrorist seemed to imprint the "barrier" that was surrounding Chad.
One officer immediately noticed it. He hyperventilated over and over and over, trying to tell his body to move, only for the action to be delayed after 18 seconds, frantically slipping and tripping his way, pushing past all his ex-comrades and bastards, "FUCK IF I WANT TO DIE, YOU CAN CATCH HIM IF YOU WANT"
Confused, his neighbor was worried about the situation as a whole. Nevertheless, the panic infected him as well, as he too noticed it. Reacting much the same, he dropped his rifle and ran back.
And then another.
And then another.
Pretty soon, all of them noticed it.
The flurry of bullets that imprinted themselves upon the "wall" surrounding Chad made a figure.
That is no wall.
That is a 15 foot tall invisible "man"
Lo, The Guardian of The Hygrdryll Clan, Protector of those who had Warrior Blood coursing through their veins.
Knight of Negativity, Weaver of Wrath; blinded by Violence, you have been summoned for the first time in 117 years.
Unholy Juggernaut; Malevolent Titan.
I call upon you to bare your fangs.
Slumbering Rakshasa, most Loyal Giant
I offer you these pests for the sake of my life.
Now and forevermore, heed my call
Lorr: Fiend of Malice
Revealing itself to Chad and the officers, the giant had finished taking its physical form.
A 15 foot tall greater spirit stood in front of its summoner.
It''s muscles gave the presence of an unstoppable ape or a similarly-sized Bear; giving off the impression that no Man, Animal, Machine, or Force of Nature could contest with its strength. Nordic Runes scattered its being, as well as several other Pict-ish patterns tattooed all throughout its figure. Its baggy pants funneled downwards to strict and tight combat boots. An eternal Snake swirled all around its arms. A noticeable crack had embellished itself on the right-rear side of its skull. Gnashing, gnarled teeth with horrendous gums, was the second loudest thing about this creature''s appearance, considering its permanent disdainful sneer on full display. The most noticeable thing about the creature was easily the two 6-foot long single-edged swords that were sheathed through its head.
Staring, staring, staring, Lorr gazed upon its targets.
The officers stared back at Death.
No amount of praying, nor bribing, nor running, nor screaming, nor "defending", nor attacking, would change the situation.
After a brief stare-down, Lorr finally motioned towards its swords, sliding them outwards with the sound of scraping oiled up machinery emitting out of its sockets.
As if enjoying the moment, taking its time in appreciating the slew of skewed emotions, the panic, the misery, the realization that they will never see their wife or child ever again, the fact that a few of their "would-be children" are going to grow up fatherless, the fact that they''ve been getting cucked from behind since Academy, realizing that for the past 29 years they''ve prayed to the wrong god- otherwise surely, they would not have seen themselves in this situation, no? In the end, none of it matters now.
Once again.
Fate had finally spoken:
""????????.""
.
.
.
2 Hours passed.
Chad, sweaty and showered in dust finally laid atop a hill.
The entirety of the town had been reduced to a spotted crater. The leftover fragments of buildings barely stood, no firemen to water down all the fires, no police to save the day, no church to say one''s prayers, no school to teach the right from wrong, no no no no no! None of it. If anything, it was a miracle that this lone grassy patch was left unscathed by the behemoth, currently still cleaving the remains of the ruins. Smoke and dust filled the air, choking the last two survivors in the area (excluding the malevolent spirit of course). Sirens echoed across the vacant city. Cars beeped and fire alarms all chanted across the scape. And yet-
It was all quiet.
Chad stared at the permanent gray sky.
He felt like he was conflicted but he knew deep down... not really.
He squinted harshly, before putting on his sunglasses.
Minutes later, rustling came by.
It was Solomon.
Much like his brother in arms, he too was covered in soot and ash. Not a single speck of skin was his natural hue. His teeth and tongue were even stained gray, almost as if he came straight from a WWII raid.
"Cha-huff-Chad!"
Chad turned to his friend, still resting on the ground.
"Oh hey, I''m glad you''re at least alive."
"Yeah well, only the people that I want to see me can... see me. By the way, does this spirit notice allies?"
Chad scrunged up his face, pondering about it.
"Unfortunately, not really. He''s kind of a bitch if you couldn''t tell. He only protects people from my family''s lineage; otherwise anyone else he sees is getting turned to minced meat so... good job not getting yourself killed."
"Huff- I thought so!
.... I uhh... I didn''t want things to go this way now that I uh... smell the roses...er ash..."
"Me too Solomon. I didn''t foresee today going the way it did but... we''re still alive and that''s all that matters."
Chad stood silent for a bit, before finally getting up, dusting himself off, and chuckling to himself.
"The things I do for love."
He clapped his hands and continued.
"Alright so here''s the deal, I''m going to unsummon Lorr, in which case you hide until need be. It''s probably gonna take 20 minutes if I''m being honest.
Afterwards, we steal everything from the bank before anybody else notices that the entire town is gone.
Finally, we get the fuck out of here, take a shower and get something to eat. Sounds like a plan?"
"Damn right it does" replied Solomon, raising his fist and smiling his cheesy grin.
"Glad to hear" agreed Chad, frisking his friend''s mohawk.
And so they marched, those who bore the name of "Blood".
.
.
.
After Chad took 24 minutes to calm down his guardian giant, he and Solomon realized one thing about this disaster.
Solomon looked at Chad.
Chad did much the same.
They both shouted in unison.
"THE CAR!!!"
After scanning around the grounds of the now defunct bank, through the aisles of entrails, gales of dust, and hills of rubble, they looked around at what used to be the parking lot.
Most but not all of the cars were pancaked and/or diced beyond recognition. Trying to remember where they parked, Chad scurried around the area.
"SOLOMON! I can''t find it!"
The mohawked fellow finally caught up to his pal, and chuckled at the scene.
"Chad, it''s alright!" responded Solomon.
With a snap of his fingers, Belko''s precious automobile finally revealed itself- unscathed no less!
Of course, despite being invisible prior, it was still affected by the flurry of soot from the destruction. But aside from the grime, no scratches, no dents, it''s still in one piece? All fine by the two of ''em.
They both sighed in relief.
"Hey Sol,"
(pronounced as Saul as a nickname)
"why''d you turn it invisible for me too? Ya almost gave me a heart attack."
"Yeah sorry ''bout that. You told me to turn invisible and get out of there. When I remembered about the car, I also turned it invisible for everyone, seeing as how I was scared shitless and just running for my life until the coast was... relatively cleared. I''m surprised that my technique works against the monster but more importantly- i''m surprised the car is basically unscathed. It''s dirty as sin but nothing like a good $6 car wash and vacuuming can''t help."
"I see...
damn this is uh..."
Chad scratched his head and raised an eyebrow
"We genuinely got lucky like, what are the chances?"
"100%" automatically responded Solomon.
Chad turned to him with a puzzled gaze.
"huh?"
"100%; It''s not luck, it''s fate. It is by definition, a miracle!"
Chad internally groaned, muttering an "(oh no)" inside his head, hoping that Solomon didn''t see Chad''s eyes roll.
"Uh...right..." responded Chad distantly.
"No, I''m serious!" continued Solomon.
"What are the odds! We were on death''s door, facing an army of rifles and manpower, with the forces of the rest of the town no less, on top of a spirit that you summoned! Granted, the latter part doesn''t affect you, but I- and by extension ''Iris'' were left unharmed! Dirty as hell yeah but in the end, we''re still alive!"
Before Chad could come up with a rebuttal, he automatically called out "Who''s Iris?"
Solomon gasped.
"Don''t say that in front of her! You''ll hurt her feelings! What''s the matter with you?"
Chad looked at the car.
And then connected two and two together
"That''s so dumb."
"Anyways-" continued Chad.
"I get what you''re trying to say but, I really don''t think it''s a miracle or any machination of god by any means. At best it''s just luck, and even then I say that as an expression.
"Hoh really now? Luck?"
"No but kinda yes."
"Luck
over God''s chosen few, that being us?"
"Look dude, I''m not gonna get into it but as my final answer, yes."
"I disagree. If it weren''t for God, we would''ve been gunned down there without hesitation, and we wouldn''t be standing here, grateful to be alive. It''s thanks to my praying from last night, two nights ago, before we entered those doors, and allllll those nights from years prior. Hell, if it weren''t for God, you wouldn''t have had that divine strength or that on the spot ingenuity of that pla-"
The vein on Chad''s forehead made itself known as he stomped over to Solomon''s face and started barking.
"No dude, QUIT IT. No god has ever manipulated any events for, or against me, no god has saved my life, and ESPECIALLY, no god has ever controlled any one of my thoughts or actions. You really think that every human is controlled by the whims of the almighty? I know the spiritual exists but come the fuck ON Solomon. Get your head out of your ass, and quit your phony god bullshit and-"
Right as Chad emitted those words, both of them felt that same pang. Solomon felt a wrathful knot in his stomach, alongside difficulty breathing, the overbearing feeling of his muscles loosening up, and his tear ducts holding back. Chad on the other hand felt an invisible force grasp his neck, and the immediate pain of an arrow go through his head, wishing he just held his mouth shut.
"(Shit.)" thought Chad.
Solomon''s face tightened, his nose wrinkled, his eyes deadshot, and his cheerful smile instantaneously morphed into a skewed frown of pure hate. He marched forward, pressuring Chad to walk backwards.
"The FUCK did you just say?"
For the first time ever, the imposing, older, stronger Chad couldn''t look straight at his friend''s eyes.
"Say it again."
Chad looked away.
The both of them stood there for an agonizingly long time. Solomon couldn''t care less. There was a knife on his back, and it didn''t matter if he died or not. All that mattered was whether or not that knife would be affirmed, and pushed even further, or if that knife would be pulled out. Chad on the other hand felt like a wilting tree. It didn''t matter if they stood there for another couple hours, starved, and awkwardly drove back to the city without saying a word. It didn''t matter if they stood there for two days or so. It didn''t matter if a Police Department from another town found them both facing each other as if it were a standoff, oblivious to the decimated town that they just enacted. It didn''t matter if eons went by, and both withered away on those exact same spots, never looking eye to eye again. Solomon could''ve just taken the car and left, and Chad wouldn''t be mad. In an ironic fashion, he wanted God to do something- anything to get him the hell out of this situation.
He wouldn''t blame Solomon if he punched him in the jaw. If anything it''d make him feel better because at least SOMETHING would''ve happened. Solomon could''ve started a fight. There''s no chance Chad would''ve lost. He''s stronger, faster, smarter, and has more abilities up his sleeve and yet- Chad''s will had evaporated at that very moment. Whether it could''ve taken 10 hours, or a hundred years, if it made Solomon happy, Chad would not budge.
And yet.
He''s just standing there.
Waiting for my response.
As much as I wanted to say something- I physically couldn''t.
I try to say something, but I''m so choked up that no matter how hard I try to mutter out an ounce of a whisper or scream a primal roar, my throat could not work.
"WELL?" asked Solomon.
"SAY IT GOD DAMN IT!"
A single tear ran down Solomon''s cheek, keeping that permanent angry expression.
.
.
.
After what felt like years, Chad finally looked at Solomon
Embraced him
And said "I''m sorry."
After a good 10 minutes of calming down, they both quickly got back to filling up the duffel bags with as much money and bars of gold as they could. Chad would fill his bag with a majority of the gold while Solomon lugged around the bricks of hundred dollar stacks. They pondered whether or not to scavenge the town and see if there were any jewelry stores but considering the state of the town, it''d probably take an entire day to find a single diamond gram underneath the ruins and rubble. Though they weren''t necessarily in a rush considering the peculiar circumstances, still, they both realized that they just didn''t have the time for it.
After all of that was over, they both entered the car and drove off into what remained of the road.
"Again, that wasn''t cool of me. I didn''t mean it Sol, it''s just- you gotta admit, you can be pretty overbearing with that stuff. I know it doesn''t excuse what I said, but I just wanted to let it be known."
Solomon stared aimlessly at the scenery in front of them, then responded.
"Nah it''s... it''s fine... I guess I can''t help it since- it has been the only stable, driving force in my life... If it was from any other schmuck of course I''d just laugh it off, put a bullet in his ribs and go on with my day but... hearing it from a friend really hurts... I don''t think I''ve ever experienced something like that before. I mean, sure I''ve been shot a couple of times, and mama would sometimes discipline me in a grave way when I really screwed up, but... Idunno. This one just felt a bit more potent..."
"I understand that. But keep in mind Solomon, that these types of things are inevitable. You and the crew are the only sort of friends that I have left, and though I may have some co-workers that I talk to sometimes- I''m never going to talk to them about Pre-Retcon Beyonder or philosophical debates on society, ya know? It''ll always be ''sports'' this, and ''Steam Sale'' that. But no road is perfect, and even the greatest ones have a few bumps here and there. Sorry if this sounds stupid, I''m not very good at analogies but, with these few bumps, I believe that smoothing it over and discussing them will only elevate our friendship, don''tcha think? Hell, I can assure you that this doesn''t only happen to friends. Back when my siblings were with me, we would always fight."
Solomon curiously perked up.
"...really?"
"Dude- yes! They were annoying!" chuckled Chad.
"Everyday it was always something. Blaming each other on who broke a window, who broke the tv this time, who hit who over a toy, and whatever. And though it was obnoxious, it''s not like we would hold grudges for a long time. The longest would be like a couple days or a week, and that''s if they really fucked up. But at the end of the day, all eight of us would inevitably sleep side to side, huddled up right next to each other. Not like we had a choice. As much as we hated the other for being an asshole that day, it''ll blow over and become just another day in the lives. Nobody would go to bed angry."
"Huh... interesting...
I never had any siblings, much less friends but hearing it from that perspective really does help. Sounds like a rather fun family!"
Chad''s face, brimmed with nostalgic joy, soon morphed into a rather muted, neutral, soft semi-smile.
"Say, where are they now?"
"They''re insid-
...
They''re in a better place.
Hey-" continued Chad abruptly.
"How about this: we stop at a motel or an inn that''s relatively deserted, shower real quick, go grab a bite- anything you want, go to a real hotel near the city, contact the salesman, buy the railroad spike, and then go off from there. How does that sound?"
"Can we go to Denny''s?"
"Sol-
of course we can go to Denny''s!"
"Then let''s get to it" smiled Solomon.
.
.
.
4 days passed.
It was yet another bright and beautiful day in California. The decrepit Hotel was still standing. The city was still wheezing. A neighboring town had recently been wiped off the map from unknown circumstances. The everyday people panicked, worried about it for a day or two, then forgot it happened by dinner time.
The families all circled around in their own private time, distraught by the news, arranging funerals and a march in the name of the dead. Seeking for who or what could have caused this? Who do we blame? There''s no way a single person could''ve caused this? Was it a bomb? An earthquake? Do we blame the government for hiding something? Do we blame nature or better yet- God? It was all so messy. Everyone coped with it in different ways. Some drank. Others fucked. Most cried. All sharing the same guttural pain; a knife shanked deep into their stomach and twisting indefinitely for entire days.
For the rest of the world, it was just another Tuesday.
Solomon, finally wore his simple bucket hat, Hawaiian shirt, jean shorts, worn boots, and those cracked sunglasses.
Chad on the other hand wore a red tank top that read "Juicy", khaki shorts, and those same innocent crocs.
They also dragged along the heavy duffel bags full of gold and money with them to the bus. Chad, being the physically stronger one, was of course the one carrying the duffel bags full of bricks of gold, clearly straining from it. Meanwhile, Solomon dragged along the other duffel bags full of money. To avoid being seen with 6 duffel bags worth of treasure, Solomon rendered 4 of them invisible, making it seem that Chad carried one in each hand, and Solomon carried one on his own. In reality, most of them were hidden in plain sight, and some hung by Chad''s neck and shoulders, somehow resisting the hundreds of pounds slowly cutting him. To Chad, this was of course a herculean task. To everyone else in the bus, they just thought he was constipated or had issues.
"HEY- HRGK SOL?"
"Yeah?" responded Solomon
"AFTER WE GET OFF THIS BUS
I''M GOING TO FUCKING MURDER YOU"
Belko rolled his eyes.
"Trust me, if I were stronger I would gladly help but... you seem to be the more gifted one out of the two of us."
"FUCK- HRGGKK- YOU"
After the bus stopped they tried getting all the duffel bags off of the bus as quickly as possible, looking as if they were a couple of jokesters playing a mime gag with all these "invisible bags", unknowing of the grand crimes they just committed.
"THE GUY IS ALREADY WAITING FOR US LET''S JUST GO STRAIGHT TO THE ELAV-HRKG- ELEVATOR."
"(Pant), (gasp), HEARD" wheezed Solomon.
Both of them frantically ran to the same room from last week, rushing through before both of their bodies gave out. They bursted in.
"Gentleman" started the Merchant.
"Welcome back~"
"AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAA" screeched the both of them, attempting to slowly drop all of the weight so as not to be caught. Emphasis on attempt, seeing as how it sounded like a pile of bowling balls just landed on the floor.
Startled, the merchant paused and motioned for the door to be closed. All of the invisible duffel bags became visible once more. The salesman put two and two together.
"Uh... you guys couldn''t just give me like... a check or something?"
As both Chad and Solomon caught their breath, the Salesman''s sentence finally registered in their heads. Sharing the same look of puzzled frustration, they both shouted "NO?!" as a response.
"Ok ok geez, calm down" responded the Salesman.
"Anyway uhm... I''m assuming all of this is for the... the big guy, huh?"
"The giant railroad spike, yes" panted Chad.
"Alright well... let''s just see how much you guys actually managed to get"
After a good 30 minutes of sprawling the hill of gold and the stacks of million dollars, all 3 of them paid close attention to correctly and THOROUGHLY count all of the money.
So tired from all of the counting, the three of them couldn''t even admire the money they had in front of them. An unimaginable amount, a figure so big the common man wouldn''t be able to reach this amount in a single lifespan, much less ten. And yet, all the taxation from making sure not to miscount a single hundred dollar bill, dissuaded them from even looking at it.
The Salesman looked at Chad.
"..."
Chad looked at Solomon.
Solomon looked at the salesman.
Chad looked back at the salesman.
"What?" finally broke out Chad.
"You guys are missing two dollars"
Chad, taking a deep breath before letting out a soft chuckle went up to the salesman.
"Dude. I know you''re being funny, but right now is NOT the time to pull that off"
"Fine geez he said, waving his hand away.
"Anyway," he continued
"From my calculation, combining the value of the gold within this current year, rounding it up to a good 45k per kilo, on top of the rest of the money, you have enough to buy it and then some. I doubt you''ll be wanting to lug around the gold so i''ll just take that on top of the money that''s needed and then you just take the leftover. Sound like a deal?"
"Hoh thank the LORD" groaned Solomon.
The vendor whipped out his gray suitcase from under the bed and dislodged the railroad spike. He handed it over to Chad.
"To use it, you just stick it into the ground, strike it with a hammer or your fist or whatever (it doesn''t have to be spiritual mind you), and then watch it wreak havoc across the world. I will say though, since it has never been released before:
A. It''s abilities are still unknown and more importantly
B. After you activate it, I implore you to run like hell; run far, FAR away. Seeing as how it''s been captured and hasn''t seen the light of day in a long time, I don''t think it''ll take too kindly to those who let him free either."
The beastly aura of the artifact radiated with an incomprehensible amount of sheer malice. A life for a life. A town for a town. West to East. What goes around comes around. Comes around indeed, in an act of cruel irony.
"Chad" called out Solomon.
Snapping out of it, Chad looked back at his friend.
"Uh- y-yeah?"
"Let''s put it in the bag now. I''m kinda starving"
"Sure, here ya go."
Chad looked up at the salesman.
The vendor stared at him with a serious glance and stated.
"Don''t let it guide you. It''s none of my business what you''re planning to do with it, but when you use it, use it wisely. I can hear him sometimes too. Don''t listen to him."
Chad took a bit to register the warning, but softly shook his head in compliance.
"Say- uh actually-" said Chad aloud in an almost frantic pace.
"By any chance, there''s no way you don''t have security right? I mean this job is risky and I don''t doubt there''s a couple of creeps aiming to swindle you, no?"
"Oh that''s not a problem" replied the Vendor.
With a snap of his fingers and a point to the closet, the closet doors opened and revealed a figure. A 5''5" Chinese man wearing nothing but pitch black cotton clothes, sporting a stone-cold thousand yard stare, and a mouth that looked like it had never smiled before.
"This is Chang," continued the Salesman.
"He''s good at his job, he''s scary, and best of all, he''s a handsome fella, ain''t that right Chang!?"
"Exactly! Look at ''em!"
Solomon and Chad couldn''t help it. Solomon felt immensely weakened by this man''s stare. Chad felt uneasy about this guy''s... "vibe". Despite being shorter than the both of them, they both knew that any wrong move would set him off. For what Solomon''s stealth and Chad''s strength could muster, it wouldn''t be enough to run away from his cold deadly grasp.
"Anyway, back in the closet you go, shoo shoo!" motioned the Salesman.
Chang slowly but surely creaked his door closed, keeping that ungodly concentrated stare on the two guests.
"...Yeah... I think we''d best be going..." responded Chad.
"Well, sure thing! And of course, you guys know how to contact me if you need anything else. Hell, I''m pretty sure I''m getting some new things in stock this Thursday, so shoot me a call!"
"Of...of course..." commented Solomon.
Before leaving, Chad made one last request.
"By the way, you don''t mind if we leave our duffel bags in here right? It''s easier for you and...Wang?"
"His name is Chang"
"CHANG! Right- it''d be easier for you two to carry it, no?"
"Hell no, pick it up."
.
.
.
And like that, terroristic endeavors slowly yet surely were being weaved one malicious tensile at a time. Webbed through various loops and plots, the spread of secrecy among some, straggling through close strangers. One step at a time, a bunch of deranged nobodies would see through that the eradication of the enemy would become a reality.
Different motivations, same actions, faux family, shared blood.
『Chapter 2: Tsudzuku and Edward』
Static buzzed as TVs glowed with the typical news. A rather boring morning in Missouri.
A newswoman reported the usual schpeal.
"Tragedy struck this morning at 6:18 AM, as a local grocery store was robbed by two assailants. One of the suspects has been killed by the police while the other has been taken into custody. The reports state that seven injuries and two deaths occurred at the scene."
A teenager with fresh red eyes was interviewed.
"It was awful! sob We were having a normal day and all of a sudden these men in black just started shooting in the air! We all got down and did what they told us and yet sob they...they shot my grand-"
They broke down crying. The news then cuts off towards a new interviewee.
"I don''t know what else can be said, man. Every day people keep buying guns for the sake of protection and yet... where''s the protection? Even when they keep hammering down restrictions with all these gun laws, to keep the criminals from buying guns, these criminals still have access to guns so I don''t- sigh. I don''t know man. I don''t know who''s in the right or who to root for anymore, I just-
I don''t know."
"More info about the event will be displayed at 7. In other news, at around 4 AM, a local church was engulfed in flames, leaving a massive ruin. Father O''Conner, the head presider of the church has also gone missing. If there''s any sightings of him, please let the local authorities know."
"Lastly, for the missing people''s report:
Johnny Fitzpatrick, a fourteen year old boy has gone missing. He was last seen last night at around 6:43 PM, playing basketball near Oakson avenue park. Here is the most recent picture of him. He has short brown hair, blue eyes, has pale skin, is around 5 feet and 7 inches tall. If there are any leads to his whereabouts, please notify the local authorities, as well as his family''s phone number: 555-314-8787. That''s 555-314-8787.
The other missing person is Shameik Jones. A seven year old who was last seen three days ago. Here is a picture of what he looks like. If there are any leads to his whereabouts, please let the local authorities know."
Present day.
"I''ve been a sorcerer my entire life. We help people. Save them. Occasionally make sure remnant psyches don''t wander off and actually go towards their destined realm... eventually. We risk our lives, day in, day out, killing all these abominations. For free, no less. We carry the weight of being human, on top of the heightened responsibility. I don''t hate it. It''s bullshit- it is bullshit. But I don''t hate it. Nevermind the fact that we''ll never fit a normal life. That''s a petty reason to be mad. Nevermind the fact that most of us will die if we develop a shitty skillset. We''re either born better, or we study hard enough to catch up with those that are blessed. That''s just the way it works. It''s the same thing with sports and careers. Some are physically gifted, others train to catch up, while others opt out to work with their heads instead of their bodies. That''s fine. It is what it is; it''s the way the human- nae, the way the world works. I can accept that. Death is inevitable, and for as much as sorcerers can fight back against coagulated blobs of condensed sentiments, or walking-talking embodiments of ideas, it''s inevitable that some are going to die. It was naive of me to glorify all these people in the past. What essentially amounted to outdoor janitors. The effort is what counts though... I think that''s why I liked them all. Heh. Hahah... It''s so fucking stupid. I''m so fucking stupid for even thinking about it in the first place. But hey, kids are dumb. You know? But that''s what molds kids. Trauma. tRaUma bUiLdS cHaRaCteR! Pahahaha... how silly...
...
Do you know what it feels like to have your loved ones die around you? And no, I don''t mean in a ''slowly but surely, death came for them all'' type of way. I mean in a literal sense, everyone got gored in front of your very eyes. Flesh turned into ribbons. The audible crackle of bones and yelling. Ways that you wouldn''t even think humans could bend. Ways that the human psyche couldn''t imagine. It''s always the fucking creative types... that get to you... Have you? If you know, you know. And that''s what I don''t like. Death is a bitch. You can talk about it. You can understand it. You can even get teased by it. But when it stares at you in the eyes, and taunts you by finger painting your face with the liver of your best friend... We just can''t comprehend it. And- chuckle, despite being the one who got away! Who got the misfortune of being LUCKY! You always end up wondering to yourself: why wasn''t it me? You''d think it''d feel great to be alive- to be blessed by the grace of luck and to prosper onwards to live life towards the fullest.
...
Tch. If only I was so lucky.
So for the past couple months or so, I''ve been ruminating. After deep meditation, as well as concentrating an outlet for my anger, I found the resolve to continue onwards.
I''m going to defy death."
It was a hazy summer day in a lively park. A twenty year old Japanese man with orange hair, prescription glasses, and black and red apparel sat on a bench with another individual; he had just finished sperging. Whether or not he was talking to his accomplice, or to himself was unclear. Said partner was a tall, slender man at a similar age, wearing a blue polyester priest''s robe... or was it a trench coat? He had rings around his finger as well as earrings that gave him an unassuming slick appearance. He had an odd tinge of hair that depended on the lighting. On some angles, it showed up as gray. On others, white. Yet during darker settings, it settled down to black.
The priest figure absorbed the information, and slowly turned to his partner after a good fifteen seconds.
"...that''s good and all...
...
...but is that a yes or a no?"
"A yes or a no to what," asked the Japanese man.
"I asked you if you were going to join us since you responded to our email. We met up here to catch up and in all honesty, I was already convinced, so that''s why I asked you if you wanted to join- and then you just started ranting out of nowhere ??
Like, I''m not trying to downplay your emotions- no offense of course. But... that wasn''t very coherent, I''m going to be totally honest with you."
The Japanese man waved it off.
"Ah no, I understand. I do that a lot sometimes. Don''t pay any attention to that. And to answer your question well, I kind of have no choice. I gained forbidden knowledge on how to revive the dead-"
The priest slowly shot up.
"Now, I''m relatively new to this whole sorcery thing but- isn''t that really Illegal?"
"Yes. So much so that it''s banned internationally."
"...Why? You''d assume that with literal magic, everything is fair game."
"You''d think that, and though very few of us have the powers to rival gods, there is ultimately, a method to the chaos. We can reap death up, down, left and right. But if we manage to bring back as little as a single human back to life, there will be consequences. Due to messing with the order of life and death, messing with the scales so to speak will blur the order of life and death, pissing off the Angels. Though we have very little understanding of it, that''s what makes proving religions so goddamn hard. Are the Buddhists correct, and we all eventually come back to one of the realms? Or are the Abrahamic religions correct, and there are genuinely only three realms with a permanent lock once we leave the mortal coil. We don''t know. And we can''t know, seeing as how it would bring about the end of the world. A fabled extinction event. Funnily enough, the closest thing we''ve gotten to reviving someone is through the technique of Umbra manipulation, which summons the ''imprint'' of someone''s soul, so to speak. People may manipulate the shadow of a person and use it to help in combat; the closer the person was, the stronger the bond and said Umbra is. But that''s the thing- it is the mere ''shadow'' of the soul, not the actual soul. Doesn''t help that they can''t communicate, so it''s more like puppeteering a corpse''s corpse... if that makes sense.
Tch.
How ironic, isn''t it?"
The priest gave a concentrated look and furrowed his brow.
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work."...let''s rewind the dial back again-
you want to revive someone?"
"Yes."
"Even though that bears the chance of killing you?"
"Not just me. Humanity. The entire planet."
"....Why would you want to do that?"
"To spit in the face of god. The universe. Whatever controls us. Bring back my- our loved ones. Destroy the cycle. A greater purpose. Whatever- however you want to interpret that as such. I don''t care about the why''s; only about whether or not I succeed. And besides, I''d ease up if I were you. I know the basics of how to do it, but I am far from my goal. I need specific ingredients, a lot of prep time, as well as gaining enough fire-power in the worst case scenario that the punishment is actually true. You''d think that with something so catastrophic and tempting, hundreds of people would''ve attempted it in the past. And yet- here we are. So who''s to say this isn''t all just bogus fear mongering to prevent anything bad from happening... But if that were the case, surely somebody would have done it either way. So it''s a paradox, and the only way we can find out is by-"
The Japanese man clapped.
"-finding out! It''s that simple."
The Priest stared at the person right next to him. It was one of slight confusion skewed with a sentiment that screamed of "yeah...sure dude."
"I see..." commented the Priest, before continuing.
"In the worst case scenario, what would you do if the Angels actually do show up?"
"Like I stated before, I- and I highly doubt your team- are well equipped for such a task. However, by working our way upwards, and improving our abilities by considerable amounts, I have hope. It sounds na?ve, I know. But if there are sorcerers who have the ability to control the sun in the palm of their hands, and pitch it towards any demon like a baseball, I have high hopes in our abilities. It depends on who joins, as well as how smart we play it. Though unlikely, there''s still a chance."
"...
I see...
And how did you find out about this practice? Surely if its forbidden knowledge, there would''ve been no way to read about it... unless the people you got it from were immensely stupid."
"Well you see I-"
The Japanese man paused for sec
"I...I..."
He put his hand on his forehead.
"I think it had to do with a dream... but there''s more to it than that- there has to be! I know it sounds silly, but the specifics are a bit foggy...from what I remember, after I found out about the basic fundamentals of the art, I stole some artifacts from the academy, killed a couple of people, and fled the scene as fast as I could. I''m branded as a traitor now, and no doubt, they''re most likely looking for me in Japan. It was so sudden I couldn''t even say goodbye to my family; not that I cared to."
"Uh-huh.
And why are you helping us in specific?"
"Well, I''ve been in hiding for a good couple months or so. I fled to various countries, living as a scoundrel. With my abilities, it was easy to get what I wanted. The main issue however was trying to not get spotted. I think you understand how suspicious it would be for a Japanese man to be in a very quiet town within Ireland or Canada. I hopped from country to country, eventually finding refuge here. It was much the same- hopping from state to state at a much slower pace, though, whenever there was internet available, I scoured it. I wanted help with my mission, so I looked up videos, joined forums, talked to so-called ''psychics'' and ''sorcerers''. Most of them were all phonies and freaks who believed they were privy to our world. Yet, as if it were fate, I saw one of Chad''s videos. I talked to him for a bit, and we got along surprisingly well."
The Priest made a mental note.
"(So far, this guy''s story seems pretty straight with what Chad told me. I understand he''s running away...but what if this is all a trick? No. No way. A Japanese Sorcerer coming all the way to the States to hunt down a small group of guerrilla style sorcerers would be stupid. Can never be sure though...)"
"Sorry to cut you off," said the Priest.
"You said your name was?"
"Jinsei. Jinsei Tsudzuku."
"Jen...say?"
"Jinsei."
"Yeah that''s what I said. Jensay."
"Jinsei."
"Jensay that''s what i''m saying."
"Jinsei-"
"I know how to pronounce your cockroach language you-" snapped the Priest.
A visible vein popped out of his forehead; his face reddened, before slowly fading back to his normal white skin color.
"Ah...ah-hem. Excuse me..."
Jinsei looked unamused. He stared at his new "partner" with a sullen tone.
"No worries. And you said your name was?"
"Edward."
"Ah, Edward.
...
No last name?"
"With what we''re doing, I- we won''t be needing it."
"I see. Anyway, that''s the basic gist of the story. I heard you guys want to go to Japan?"
"For the most part, yes. We all have our different reasons, but as long as we all agree that Japan''s the target, and we take down the Ordinance Academy, it should all be smooth sailing."
Jinsei chuckled a bit.
"...What''s so funny?" asked Edward.
"No, no, it''s just. This literally couldn''t have lined up any better.
I understand fate is a phony subject. And yet, with all these odd coincidences lining up, it just seems a little too perfect for it to work out like this."
Jinsei smiled.
"So now that I tirelessly ranted about myself, what''s up with you? Why did you join this gang of terrorists?"
"Oh, you know, God told me to" nonchalantly responded Edward.
Jinsei''s eye instinctively twitched.
"I...see."
"It''s as if my life was a blur before this. Come to think of it, I can''t remember anything. Hell, I''m pretty sure I don''t want to remember anything. I saw the radiant light. God, in all his white, bearded glory instructed me to look for an individual named ''Chad Bernard'', as well as to take down the Satanic, alien forces of the Japanese Ordinance Academy, and from there, a new glorious era of Spiritual energy will arrive. And he said I would be the shepherd to control the herds of the world.
Of course, that was all he said to me, before he instructed me to hide a body and burn the church down. And, I have never looked back since! It''s weird how I''ve been a Priest for so long and yet... I guess it just seemed so boring that I don''t remember any of it, you know?"
Jinsei tried his hardest not to give a weirded out stare.
"...Can''t say I relate but, I know what you mean..."
"And of course what with the whole taking down the Academy schtick, I''m assuming you don''t mind that, right?"
"I''ve been running away from them for a long time and they''re my biggest obstacle. Yes, I''m fine with the basic plan."
"Great. Just didn''t want to seem xenophobic for our new member, you know?"
"...Uh-right."
"Say, how''d you get so good at speaking English by the way? You''re practically a natural at it."
"The Academy makes students study at least three languages, so English was obviously one of them. That- and living in the states for at least a couple months has made me get used to practicing it."
"Gotcha, gotcha.
....
Welp, I believe that''s all I needed to hear. You''re definitely on board with the team. We''ll notify you when well meet up next time. Sound good?"
"Affirmative."
"Alright well, see you around"
"Likewise."
They both got up from the bench and started walking towards opposite directions. They smiled and waved goodbye towards each other before quickly hiding their own faces in hopes of the other not seeing their reaction. At that very moment, both of them thought of the same exact idea:
"(that guy is fucking CRAZY)"
.
.
.
Near the bench that the two sat, was another bench.Typical park setup. In the midst of children running around and teenagers playing frisbee with their dogs, the human smokescreen did their unsuspecting jobs well. A figure reading a newspaper noticed that their targets had left the scene. Good.
The figure lowered their newspaper.
It was a tall teenage boy with shaggy bangs, a brown and beige hoodie-
And a bandana that covered their eyes.
They smiled.
『Chapter 3: The burden of wishful thinking - Part 1』
A fourteen hour shift at the office today...
Tired. So tired. Too tired. As much as I would like to go out to the bars and have a glass, there is work to be done tomorrow. I can''t go to work on a hangover. I have never missed a day in my life, neither for school, nor for my career. Even when I was infected with a virus, my mother forced me to go to school. I have never missed attendance, and it will certainly not start in my career. That being said, I was so distracted with my devotion, that my tired body stumbles to the station at such an alarmingly slow pace. I arrive at my usual stop... just as the train left!
"heY- HEY, WAIT" I cry out.
The train left without me. I desperately check the train schedule that was posted on the wall.
That was the last one.
Of course I sulk. I groggily walk up the steps in shame. I felt something plop onto my head. As if a kernel just dropped from a building. It was wet. And then another. And then another. Pretty soon, it started pouring hard. These wet bullets drench my suit and briefcase. I clutch onto my work as if it were my child. In a sense of sorts- it was. Damn if I let any mere molecule of water soak into my hard work. I hug onto it with my breast, shielding it from the world with my hunched back and business suit. Damn. The one day I didn''t bring my umbrella...
I look desperately for a taxi. I wait in the rain at the center of the district.
10 minutes pass.
20 minutes pass.
It''s no use.
And to think that my coworkers offered me a ride. I politely declined. Nobody would ever want a leech in their friend group. Hell, I always stay an hour later just to impress my peers and bosses around me. A valuable asset. A genius in the accounting department. I read graphs with but a mere glance. All without the aid of these computer programs no less. People must be really impressed by me. If I were gone, the company... the work force... I suppose a part of society as a whole... they would miss me...
Right?
I pull my briefcase tight to my chest.
I slump down on the bench.
Something wet goes down my cheek.
"Right?"
.
.
.
I march onwards towards home. Mere liquid won''t deter me from getting a good night''s rest. It takes about an Hour and a half to get from home to work (and vice versa) on the train. Granted, a majority of that is due to stalling from picking up people at different sites. So with some calculation, I predict that it will take me four hours to walk from here to home. It''s 11:56 PM right now, so by the time I get home, I''ll have a good three hour rest. Yes, this is a solid plan. And now, I march. Nothing will deter the determined Yamada-san.
Twenty minutes pass.
I''m on the ground with mud on my suit. My briefcase is wet; no doubt some water has seeped in. I can only imagine myself from a third person''s perspective. I suppose I really am out of shape.
"Am I really this weak?"
.
.
.
After a couple of slow, grueling hours of rain water bulleting my person, my work, and my ego, as well as my legs feeling like sandbags, I arrive at my humble apartment.
For the first time since 7 PM, a hint of energy permeates my body.
I rush inside my apartment, taking everything off, hastily putting on my pajamas so that I may put my dirty suit into the washer. I look at the door where I left my umbrella earlier.
It mocks me.
As that happens, I open my briefcase over my sink. Out spills at least a pint of water...
My documents...several hours of work...
Ruined.
BUT NOT DESTROYED.
Praying to the local gods, I waste no time in finding a hair dryer and use it for its intended purpose: drying the documents.
I''m glad I bought this device a long time ago. A silly endeavor. They laughed at me. But at least I get to secure my job one more day.
After 30 minutes of drying both my clothes and documents, I finally arrive at my bed; my final resting spot.
I kneel down on the side of my bed.
I close my eyes.
A single tear rolls down my cheek.
If there is a local Kami that may listen to my pleads in my time of need.
Please.
Please.
I only wish for a lucky grace.
An easier life just for one day.
I crawl atop my bed, not even covering myself. I close my heavy eyes and within seconds, I fall into a pitch black slumber.
.
.
.
I wake up at 6:30 AM. I start at 9:00 AM. It takes 20 minutes to travel from the train station to the Office, and I must arrive 10 minutes early to sate appearances. 7:30 to 8:30, that occupies my time on the train. If I''m lucky enough, I can perhaps have a taste of a 20 minute nap; nothing more, however, for that risks recycling my REM schedule. Damn if I have rest take priority over my livelihood. And it takes an hour to wake up, reset my alarm for a 5 minute nap, rest, wake up again, reset my alarm for another 2 minute slumber, rest, then finally wake up for real, shower, brush my teeth, eat breakfast, brush my teeth again, iron my clothes, sprint towards the train station, and wait there for seventeen minutes.
That is my typical schedule. However, for some reason, I must have slept really awkwardly last night. My body feels heavier, yet my limbs feel limber. Longer. I have a stiff neck... geez what did I do last night? Was I looking down at the pages for so long? Nonsense. I''m that same posture at work for hours on end and it''s never triggered a pain this bad before... unless it''s starting to catch up to me now... but that doesn''t make sense. Why now?
Nevermind that, why is my peripheral vision larger?
I can see the ceiling, the rest of my room, and the ground all at once...
...
Okay now that I think about it, that''s not that big of a deal...
Perhaps my permanent posture has made it so that I only look at the ground in my everyday life. Have I really never noticed this perspective of life before? Looking straight? If so, then why does it feel so weird? There''s no possible way I''ve worked myself into the physique of a ghoul, because that would be embarrassing. Shameful!
Perhaps it''s my multitasking technique that has made my vision permanently skewed. I would often use my left eye to look at the screen and use my right eye as a means of noting things down on the documents, that way I would shave off .23 seconds of looking up and down. That may seem silly, but in the realm of a businessman, time is everything. Mere seconds add up, and even in those thirteen minutes of accumulated time from looking up and down, one could have used those minutes to fill out a form... or two.
...
No.
That''s stupid. That''d be silly. Possible, mayhaps, but do I really believe that I have permanently malformed one of my eyes to become a lazy eye?
...
Now that I think about it, that is pretty plausible... oddly enough, in one of the few talks I recall with my father, he did warn me about crossing my eyes as a kid, or else they''d become permanent...
Oh cripe what am I doing? DILLY-DALLYING? I have to get to work today.
I stumble throughout my room and into the shower. As difficult as navigating without glasses is, I of course can remember the layout of my apartment. But that doesn''t explain why I bump into each wall. Perhaps it''s because of the rush I''m in that I just happen to haphazardly bump into everything, but this is ridiculous. Now that I mention it, I no longer feel that shrimplike posture take a toll on my back... but did I become wider? I know sleeping has its benefits but it surely isn''t overnight. I know I prayed last night... but that was a silly moment of weakness. Me. A womanizing embodiment of masculinity. Overnight. Pft.
Maybe in the next life.
But for now, I must SHOWER.
Steaming hot as usual. Man, hunching over might have been an easier life for me because standing upright feels awkward. Have my legs always been this weak? That''s laughable. Perhaps I should go to the gym... if I had the time to begin with. As I mourn my decrepit self image, I scrub away at the filth. Oh shit I don''t think I even showered last night- EEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!
My loofa extinguishes the dirt from last night. For shame. If I had my mother or a wife that lived with me, I wouldn''t hear the end of it; rightfully so. Tsk, Tsk, Tsk Yamada-San. How old are you now? Thirty? And you still didn''t find it necessary to shower after being out in the rain and mud? Despicable, I know; I KNOW. Forgive me for being the pathetic insect I am. Even children have better hygiene than me. It''s so frustrating, so silly I could laugh... but I can''t... because talking to myself in the shower risks my time management, and this holy schedule of mine won''t be wasted on self hatred.
...
...
I''m showering my head and yet, I''m noticing a lack of hair except for these two very apparent and strong foils of hair... I''m going to look disgusting to my peers. I suppose years of stress and showering in hot waters does that to a man. Which is weird that all of a sudden, everything seems to be going oddly TODAY of all days. Is it a special day today? A holiday? No, or else there wouldn''t be work today... not that I go out either way. A festival? Hell no, I still would go to work regardless. I''m not going to risk a bonus pay for the sake of frolicking with young people crowding the streets. Hooligans. They don''t know what trials and tribulations and taxes and accounting FORMS and years of university await them. But at least that bonus will pay off. Eventually.
I dry myself and wipe away the steamy mirror within the bathroom. There he is. That familiar stranger. The person I am today. The person I have been. The person I will be. Eugh. Even in my blurred, foggy vision, all I see is this mountainous black and brown blob...
Black and brown.
Black...
Brown. . . . .
black and brown...
blob...?
Black and brown
BLACK AND BROWN?
HANG ON
HANG ON
I''M NOT EVEN BEING METAPHORICAL ANYMORE
I RUSH TOWARDS MY ROOM AND GRAB MY GLASSES. LONG AND SPINDLY ARM?
"WHAT THE FUCK?"
I PUT ON MY GLASSES JUST TO MAKE SURE I''M NOT DREAMING
CHECK AGAIN
LONG AND SPINDLY ARM.
I SPRINT BACK TO THE BATHROOM.
THERE I SEE WHAT I HAVE BECOME.
"EuoOO"
"EEEAAGHGA"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"
I''M SO TAKEN ABACK THAT I MOLT ON THE SPOT AND LAND AGAINST THE WALL.
MY PALE FIGURE LOOKS BACK AT THE VERY LITERAL, VERY REAL EVIDENCE OF WHAT I HAVE BECOME.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW"
OH MY GOD.
OH MY GOD.
I
I-I-
WHAT DO I DO?
WHERE DO I GO?
CAN I STILL WEAR CLOTHES?
WHAT ABOUT WORK?
DO I CALL OFF?
No... NO! They''ll think something is off...
...
SOMETHING IS OFF DAMN IT!
oooOOOHHHH MYYYYYYYY-
I CAN''T LEAVE LIKE THIS!
...But I can''t miss work either...
Should I call off a sick day?
No, they''ll think less of me... I can''t have that.
And if I miss work, they''ll fire me. And if they fire me, I won''t have money anymore. Nevermind the amount that I have in the bank, that only gets me so far. What, a maximum of living in this apartment for another year. Two, maximum? That doesn''t even cover the food costs... How will I be seen? Can I even venture out there? Will I get shot on the spot? I understand that this isn''t the United States so thank god for that, but that doesn''t stop the Police from shooting a giant COCKROACH.
A family emergency- that''s it!
...
Well, that would be it if they didn''t know that I have nobody else in my life. All of my immediate family are dead, and I haven''t had any contact with any of my cousins for the past 18 years or so. They would smell that lie from a mile... DAMN IT! AND THE CLOCK IS STILL TICKING. HERE I AM HAVING A MELTDOWN, AND I STILL HAVEN''T HAD BREAKFAST. TO HELL WITH THIS, I WON''T HAVE A CONDITION DEFINE ME! EVEN IF I END UP LOOKING RIDICULOUS, I WON''T HAVE THIS FORM RIP AWAY THE ONLY THING I HAVE.
A
SCHEDULE
MUST
BE
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TO
But how am I going to do THIS. IMPROVISE. As I stuff cereal and raw egg into my mandible, I look for the biggest pairs of business suits that I have.
My fate makes me realize that I was always this skinny, even as a child.
DAMN IT ALL.
I suppose I just have to be as delicate as I... can!
With the pinnacle of precision and care, I try my hardest, finding the perfect angle to softly wear my suit. Though my insect frame is large, it seems my frail, skinny build was translated over to cockroach form or else I would have ripped the suit by even attempting to wear it. I can feel the thing that turned me into this laugh at me in a cruel sense of irony. The most annoying process is the pants. The damn PANTS. I can''t fit the back of my frame with my pants. Its uncomfortable and simply wouldn''t fit. Thankfully my suit covers a majority of my back so as long as I have my back close to the walls, nothing...
...
or rather, something very minimal will be out of the ordinary. Oh not only that, I could wear a heavy coat that goes down to my legs! And if I scrunch up my legs into an uncomfortable degree, I can barely give the illusion of walking like a human. For the face, I can put on a blue face mask. Have an excuse about being weary about the health of myself and others. Yes, A lame excuse. That''s something I would absolutely do! That way I can cover my mandibles and a good degree of my face. The only other hurtle is the 60% rest of my face...
*sigh*
I hate to do this, but it seems I have to wear my hat to hide away my long antennae as well as the rest of my face.
Crunching down my antenna hurt like hell, but it was a worthy sacrifice compared to being caught as a freak. My glasses would awkwardly rest atop my head, leaving me to tilt my head at a weird angle so that it seems like I have a normal human head shape. It also didn''t help that I still needed my glasses to see. What a pain!
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Twelve knocks.
Oh shit.
It''s that damn nosey neighbor!
"Yamada-San, are you alright? I heard screaming from down the hall, are you okay?"
"Y-Yes! I just... spilled coffee on my suit. You know how it is!"
"Oh really? Huh... Well I also heard you scream ''ew'' a while ago when I was showering, so I thought it was something-"
"NO- no, nonono you misheard, I''m sure of it"
Quick, laugh it off so it''s not awkward.
"Heheeehheahhahhjahhaahajaha"
I hate myself.
"Ohhh, well, I''m inclined to not believe you hohoho! I''ll call over the manager so that we can help you, because I know the screams of someone who needs help, and the nervous laughter of someone who''s hiding something!"
"NO! NO. I SWEAR, I DO NOT NEED HELP. I APPRECIATE IT BUT, I DON''T NEED IT. THANK YOU."
"....
...
I''m calling the manager."
YOU BITCH
Knowing the way she is, she''s not bluffing. God damn, to hell with kind people and their gross ilk. Who knew the self righteous were so ARROGANT. I know people who are being abused need to be checked up on because their abuser wouldn''t allow them to speak the truth, but- god DAMN, LEAVE ME BE.
I have to go to work, but I can''t be seen by anyone in the apartments, so that leaves me with my only escape being... THE WINDOW.
I''ve never used a fire escape before... but now is not the time to worry; I have a train to catch.
Briefcase in hand, hat on my head, second pair of arms tucked inside my suit, I awkwardly maneuver myself out of the window and hope to GOD nobody is looking upwards in my direction. I can already feel my feet hurt inside these shoes, awkwardly fitting inside the multiple layers of socks just to make them fit. But nevertheless, I have to get out of here this way so that I may not be seen by the neighbor and the manag-
My molt.
It''s still inside the bathroom.
If they find it-
I am dead.
Despite already being half way down, I frantically climb back up and throw myself back inside my flat. This of course breaks my window. I can hear the elevator DING right down the hall. I barge into the bathroom. The molt is still there, stiff as ever.
"PERFECT" I yell.
I hear both of them converse down the hall as their footsteps become louder and louder.
I toss the molt outside. I frantically open my briefcase and rip out a piece of notebook paper.
CHk-CHk
The door jingles.
"Yamada-san, are you in there?"
I instinctively call out "NO"
I then automatically slap my hand on my would-be forehead.
Damn it.
I frantically write down the note. Slam my briefcase, and throw myself out the window (again). I see the molt get carried away by the wind. Whoever is unlucky enough to encounter a nearly two meter tall molt of a giant standing cockroach, I say this with all my heart: I''m sorry.
I drop down from staircase to staircase to evade their eyes, and sprint towards the direction of the train station.
.
.
.
Meanwhile, the Neighbor and the Manager use the Manager''s key and enter Yamada''s apartment. They are greeted with cereal all over the floor, as well as broken egg shells, a couple of wet spots on the carpet that lead from the bathroom to his room, and of course, the broken window.
The note on the table is held by a paper weight.
It reads as such in frantic scribbling:
The manager grimaces.
The neighbor, who had good intentions looks at the manager who had "that face." The one every tenant fears.
She knew what was going to happen to Yamada-San.
"Oh..." says the neighbor in a regretful tone.
.
.
.
I sprint down the fire escape and hide in the alleyway. Slowly but surely, I emerge, inconspicuous amongst these humans. My excuse to blend in just in case they ask? Hm...Yes... a businessman with time management so godly, he has equal time to work and workout. A perfect story. I blend so casually, I''m almost proud of myself.
...
...
Oh crap... people are starting to stare. Here I thought they''d be hypnotized by their phones, their social medias and their online heroes, but now, they all of a sudden just HAPPEN to notice me... for once. On top of my rather unusual stature (to be fair it''s not our fault our average heights are around 5''7" or less), walking with these legs is REALLY uncomfortable. My legs right now are simply not designed to carry my entire weight on just two legs. Though it''s true that I''m really light for my height, even in this form, this is still really tiring, especially when I have to force myself in a semi-hunched over position. On top of that, I have to walk forward in a hobbling type of way, leaning from side to side for every stride. I look like a buffoon! I hear these girls snicker. I see children point at me. Yamada the clown. It makes me angry. It makes me feel vengeful. I feel my eye twitch from this rude realization. It fuels me...to...
...to...
TO HURRY MY ASS UP-
THE TRAIN LEAVES IN FIVE MINUTES.
I''ve been complaining to myself for such a long while, that I forgot that I had less time than usual because of the shenanigans back home.
I am four city blocks away from my usual entrance. There are five traffic lights on my way there. Walking in an orderly fashion will make me lose my train. I cannot afford that; not after what I just risked at home. Thus I must proceed: in a semi-unorderly fashion! For shame, I know. But I must sacrifice my social image and my polite nature for the four minutes and forty seconds I have to spare. I shuffle past these humans at a quick pace. I preemptively say "Sorry!" and "Excuse me!" as I softly bump into these people. Surely at least one of these people can relate to my situation. Now at least in this pace I know for certain I can-
Ding
The traffic light. It halted the cross walk for the street urchins. Dead at my tracks. I forgot to account for the possibility of traffic lights slowing me down. No. And all the other ones are off-sync, implying I''ll be stopping more than once. They take a minute minimum to end. No. Yamada you idiot. Nonononononononono. I can feel my palms slowly heat up. It seems I don''t have pores, or at least traditional sweat glands, but I sense that same feeling when I can''t find the keys to my apartment or when my credit card is missing from my wallet. That same sentiment of my heart going down to my stomach hits me. Several appendages twitch all at once. My heart beats louder and louder. It mutes the busy life of the city. The cars accelerate slower. The voices of the people become quieter. The clouds of smog from the vehicles turn from gray to clear. The wind breathes on me. The world becomes inverted. My vision skews to my new target. I''ve already wasted enough time. I look past the traffic light seven meters away and look directly at my real target:
The subway entrance.
I look at the cars.
No.
I look at how far the traffic goes.
Nonononono NO NO NO. NO. NO!
Each second feels like five seconds.
Each five seconds in this intersection feel like a minute in real time.
I can already feel the train slipping by.
TO HELL WITH THIS.
I JUST HAVE TO IMAGINE THAT
THEY
ARE NOT
THERE.
I slide my face mask down. I bite the handle of my briefcase while I get on all fours (since my two other arms are tucked inside my suit). My limbs bend into a comfortable degree. The natural way a cockroach should move. Even in a skewed perception of time, I can feel the toddler right next to me stare. This is so embarrassing.
I hate this.
But this is the necessary course of action.
COCKROACH-
DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
A surge of energy bursts into my being. I haven''t ran since I was in middle school. In recent years the fastest I''ve ever gotten with my legs is the "hurried" casual stride when going to work. Not now. Most likely due to my tainted physiology, I''ve gained a greater sense of speed and awareness. A car turning left heads towards me. I needn''t worry since I''m far faster than it. The long bus blocking my way towards the diagonal straight line to my destination acts as a wall. As an answer, I lower my flat body to a ridiculous degree that I skitter underneath it. The one section where people are crossing, I gently try to slow myself down- but I''m simply too quick. Oh no, someone''s going to get hurt! I have to look at the perfect thing to crash myself into. They''re in the way, but if I take a detour, that will add a good 20 seconds to my time limit. If I crash into those short ladies, they might get smushed. If I crash into that lady and her child- I can''t do that! If I crash into the thickest part of the mass of people, surely the damage will be mitigated, but that will slow me down as well as cause massive injuries to the people. Where to, where to?
I see a large business man, towering over the crowd. He looks foreign and distinguished. A build of a bodybuilder with large fat and bulk in his frame.
"I''m sorry fat gentleman."
I lower my flat body again and skitter down to his feet. If I aimed at his legs, something tells me that I would snap his knees backwards. Lower. Lower. LOWER. Mere atoms away from the ground, I preemptively yell "SORRY" as I crash into his shoes and slide past him. Of course this flipped him over like some cartoon, but from the looks of it, he looked more pissed and confused than injured.
I hop from oncoming car to car and finally manage to reach the entrance of the subway.
My heart beats so fast it feels as if it''s going to explode. The drums of war beat louder and louder. Is this it? The natural road of beastly masculinity? Have I reduced myself into such a beast that it implies metaphorical irony?
...
Psh...
Come on now.
A beast would be a Tiger or a Wolf. Insects aren''t beasts. Besides, I did it out of necessity, not out of violence. Yamada, you have done it again! You have saved your pride once more. And hey, despite how fun that admittedly was, I would never do it again. Now to just stand back up, to the uncomfortable degree, put my briefcase back into my hand, walk down the stairs, turn left and-
I barely see the glow of the train''s backlights leave the platform.
Are you
...
Are you?
No.
This is unreal.
This can''t be
I-
You-
.
I hunch over. Even more compared to my normal "up-right" 35 degree angle cockroach stance. The train has left. There''s no way I can make it to work. Even if I run over to the city, I will still be at least twenty minutes later. All of this was for nothing. I can feel all of my limbs droop. It''s hopeless. I would have to be crazy to do anything in this situation. My life is over. My job will fire me. My apartment will be ripped away from me. All because I missed the train by three seconds. All because I turned into a GOD DAMN COCKROACH. All because-
of me.
I don''t know what I did wrong. I don''t know what I did to deserve this. I apologize to whatever force cursed me. I would do anything to have my life back.
But that''s just not how reality works.
I turn back around.
I just want to sleep and wake up from this nightmare. Better yet, I just want to rest and never wake up ever again.
Owari da.
.
.
.
..
...
........
............................
STEP STEP STEP STEP STEP STEP
I PUSH PAST THE PEOPLE BLOCKING MY PATH
I JUMP ONTO THE TRAIN TRACKS
I READY MYSELF IN THAT SAME SPRINTER POSITION ONCE AGAIN
"COCKROACH"
"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHH"
MY VISION BECOMES INVERTED ONCE MORE
I WON''T LET THAT TRAIN LEAVE ME BEHIND AGAIN
FASTER
FASTER
FASTER DAMN IT FASTEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRR
THE FEELING OF RUSHING BLOOD ENVELOPES MY SYSTEM. THE SAME SENTIMENT AS TURNING IN A REPORT 4 MINUTES BEFORE ITS DUE, OR SUCCESSFULLY HOLDING MY PEE IN A MEETING FOR OVER HALF AN HOUR, I FEEL IT.
THE PASSION I NEED.
THROUGH GRITTING TEETH I ACTIVELY CURSE OUT THAT DAMN TRAIN.
SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER
THE HANDLE OF THE BACKDOOR, IT TEASES ME AS I''M MERE CENTIMETERS AWAY.
I LET OUT A BLOOD CURDLING GGGGGYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
I USE THE OILS ON MY FINGERS TO STICK ON.
Waving my arm around, I finally get a hold of it after the fifteenth try...
Only for the train get a hold of ME
THOUSANDS OF POUNDS OF PRESSURE YANK MY BODY AROUND. THE VERY MOMENT I SLOW DOWN, AT BEST MY ARM COMES OFF AND AT WORST- I GET RIPPED APART
With a visceral HISS I latch my other arm onto the rail, before leaping upwards and landing on the platform.
Though cramped, I lay there, spent. I can feel my ligaments ache beyond comprehension. Muscles that I didn''t know existed pulsed.
It hurts.
But it hurts so good.
...
As fun as that was, I hope to never attempt that again.
I look upwards from where I lay.
I see a person stare through the window in disbelief. To be fair, I think it was his first time seeing a nearly two meter tall cockroach so, I can understand why he started frantically screaming.
To avoid that, I latch onto the side of the door and start climbing upwards atop the roof. Though it''s narrow, my body and my briefcase are just skinny enough to avoid problems. Despite rarely ever being cleaned, it''s not as dirty as the ground. Still, I feel disgusting having my coat so... dusty.
I still took my typical twenty minute power nap in the hour-long ride; definitely needed that after what I just went through. The train finally arrives at the station. I slide down from the right and while people are busy loading onto and unloading from the train, I sneak out from the side and onto the platform. Surprisingly, people didn''t notice. Yet for once, it''s as if this social invisibility actually helped me out. It wasn''t a hindrance back then, it just felt terrible. But now, it''s almost as if I can get away with this hulking body.
For the first time today.
I smile.
...
Oh crap right, I have to stop daydreaming; I have to get to work.
『Chapter 4: The burden of wishful thinking - Part 2』
Oh crap right, I have to get to work.
I hobble towards work, briefcase in hand. Though much less in a hurry, I could still feel the intense heat from my sweat permeate my body. Doesn''t help that it''s sunny and mucky outside. Granted, at least I could worry less since everyone already smells of sweat. I can tell the person in front of me showered earlier, but her sweat is starting to mix with the scent of the lavender scented shampoo. The man behind me showered last night, but with the sweating that he''s done since then, he smells of a faint musk. And down 17 meters to my 2''oclock, there''s this teenager who reeks of boiled eggs. Take a shower! And the little kid walking with their father over there, their breath smells of onion. Now that I think about it, why can I smell all of these things now?
...
Oh... oh right...
I was deluded into thinking things were normal when in fact, that couldn''t be farther from the truth. For in my distracted mind I just remembered... that around summer time, my sinuses open. I believe I inherited this trait from my mother. Which is odd considering springtime is when my allergies are really bad, but I suppose that since I live in the city, concerns for pollen are very minimal for me...
Nevertheless, I finally arrive at work. Ten minutes early to work. A damn shame. Typically it would''ve been seventeen minutes, but my natural enemy halted my speed. Those damn traffic lights...
People are staring. I walk into the building and board the elevator. It was already a crowded elevator, so when my hulking body takes up even more space, I feel the staring get harsher. My closer co-workers look at me with bewilderment. Not just my frame, my odd sense of fashion, wearing a hat in the middle of work, my massive figure, my inconspicuous aura, my build that looks like I bench pressed a bus last night and reaped all the gains in one session. But in remembering who I was, they didn''t fear me, they just gave me puzzled looks. As if I wasn''t already a freak.
People are staring.
Miss Okita... my crush. An elegant woman. A very plain woman. She is cute in her blandness. She''s not like these pristine idols that society feeds to the young. She didn''t have clear skin or dimples, or beauty marks, or a skinny face, or long hair. She barely showed any sense of an interesting personality, but when she did, it would be through a clever comment. A rebuttal so insulting, yet so calm, so calculated, it would never come off as scathing, rather a clear jab at a person''s weak point. An astute observation. A keen eye. Too keen. Polite and smart, that''s what she was. No matter what the rumors say, I can''t picture her as perverted. No. Not her. Could never be her. People always crave what society deems as attractive. Her, with a soft face, with features hidden by clothes that are a tad bit too big for her. Her, someone with glasses mind you, attractive to these other men, both young and old, who spend time messing around at karaoke and bars. There''s no way she would steep so low. Quality of man so lame and dictated by vices. Never mind her small drinking problem; she drinks wine as she reads books, I''m sure of it. Everything about her is genuine, elegant. The way she talks. The way she types 192 words per minute. The way she sings to herself whenever she doesn''t think anybody else is in the office. The way she looks at people with a cold stare yet a warm smile. Even the way she pisses is elegant. Forgive me Okita, but the way the toilet bowl rings and splashes resonates with my soul. I''m sorry for being so perverse, for accidentally being able to hear you using the bathroom just as I was about to enter the men''s bathroom. And seeing you exit out as you blushed, made my heart feel something for once. And even then, here I am, a thirty year old who has a puppy crush on his co-worker. No... it simply can''t be done. A work place is for work. Can''t be mixed with silly fantasies.
That Miss Okita, I must avoid.
My love life was doomed from the start, but seeing her acknowledge me in this form would shatter me. There''s very few things I care about in life anymore. Her rejecting me is one thing. Her hating me is another. Her outright fearing me has got to be the worst of them all.
People are staring.
"Yamada-san... is that you?"
Takeo, a twenty something year old working under me is the first coworker to acknowledge it outright.
"Y-Yes... G-Good morning Takeo."
"Wow you uh...you-
look GREAT!"
Thank god he''s an idiot.
"I didn''t take you as the type to work out? What routine do you usually do? Hell, I didn''t even think you had the TIME to work out! Can I feel your muscles?"
"-NO! No, ahem , no. Excuse me, I just would prefer to not be touched."
"Ah alright alright, my bad hahaha!" responds Takeo.
"You look different, Yamada-san."
A cold voice erupts from behind me. My heart stops momentarily. I feel a bead of sweat roll down near my eye. The face mask becomes even more moist as I instinctively exhale. The embodiment of my death is behind.
"Did you hit a delayed growth spurt?"
It was Miss Okita.
"aH-haAHAHa, yes, hello Okita-San!" I respond back.
She gives me an initial soft smile before her face morphs into the same look that everyone (barring Takeo) has given me today.
"What''s with the clothes? Trying to sweat off some mass?"
She leans in and pokes my abdomen.
A sound that was akin to "HO-OHhhhoohhh" escaped my mandibles.
"SORRY I''M JUST- very ticklish."
Her puzzled face evaporates into a snort. She turns her head away before regaining her composure.
"...right.
That still doesn''t answer the question."
I think of something on the spot.
"Ah well, my umbrella is broken, so I thought the closest thing would be to wear layers of... clothes....
..."
She gave me a distant stare. Takeo kept his bright smile, barely registering the fallacies in my logic.
She looks out the window. As if for once, things went my way as grey clouds were starting to appear.
"Hm. So it looks like it''s about to rain later...
...still, that''s not very clever of you Yamada-San."
"I was in a rush you see-"
"Why."
"...I woke up late."
"That seems very out of character for you."
"Well I was real tired last night so I went out for a drink and I just ended up home late-"
"You? A bar? You should work on your comedy Yamada.
And besides, you rejected going to the bars last night with us. Why would you go alone?"
"To get some alone time..."
"Aren''t you alone as is?"
I look away hesitantly.
"Different scenery, the bar''s just... different, you know?"
"..."
Her eyes tighten. My soul clenches, braces for each blow after blow from her. To avoid such a predicament, I must also play her game.
"-and besides," I rebut.
"Why would you care?"
"...
You''re right. I have a report to do. See you around Yamada... and you too Takeo."
"THANKS YOU TOO," responds Takeo.
"Oh and one last thing Yamada-San-
I know what happened this morning."
My heart sinks.
"You...you do?"
"...
No."
She gives me a cold smile.
"You''re just a terrible liar."
She quickly walks off.
Despite her confirmation, my heart is still low. A sense of guilt and this cold tingle sparks throughout my body.
The smile was cold. Not warm. Cold. She walked away in a hurry. And it''s as they say: women can read through men. As much as I don''t want it to be true, and as much as she left in supposed casual terms, even I, who has no sense of awareness when it comes to how women feel:
even I felt my fear come to reality.
My body instinctively walks towards her. Almost as if there''s something I want to clarify, or defend myself from her judgment, but what would I tell her? There''s no reason to. That would be weird. Yet step after step, I slow inch my way towar-
AUGH!
...The hell? I almost stumbled on this rug. It has a permanent crease on it. Every time I step on it it slowly resets back to its crooked form. And with my new legs, this could''ve spelled out a worse fate. First thing in the morning, just what I need.
"Takeo, who put this rug here?"
"Ah, it was a present from Hinamori to Nishimiya after her promotion in the marketing department."
"...why is it here? Shouldn''t she take it home?"
"Oh I think I heard them joke about how she had so many at home already so she thought it would liven up the office."
"...
...this is pre-owned isn''t it."
"Yeah."
"But I''ve never noticed this thing before. When was the party?"
"Yesterday."
"..."
I wince.
Walked into that one.
"Well, alright...
I must get back to work so... I''ll be seeing you around"
He smiles, "later!"
I walk towards my cramped desk. On the way there I notice the rows of paper and electronics that litter this office. Has it always been like this? I believe the only time I''ve ever noticed how small the offices were was back when I started working in my early twenties. From a new- literal change in perspective, I can finally understand now why people go out to drink every night... As if that would ever change. No matter how desolate this place may seem, that is simply reality. For people to escape into such vile vices? Pity on them. At least I''m aware. Can I change anything? No. Will I change anything? No; especially with what''s going on with me right now. Would I change anything? Perhaps fix the AC unit in the back corner of the office but otherwise, not really. At least I''m aware of how things are. That''s why I''m better than most of these people. I can even prove it. Now, if only I actually felt superior, then that would fix all my problems. Well, aside from the glaring one, but otherwise, I could at least be happy. Yes... Happy... Home is where one brings comfort. That''s right. My home. Three monitors and a laptop. Piles of paper on my left and right side. This comfortable swivel chair. That is... home. Where I can waste away hours, minutes, days. The radiation coming off from my screens substitute the vitamins that I get from the sun. No need for something so bright and annoyingly hot. I have it all. Right here. My purpose in life is to analyze, write down, report, repeat. Analyze, write down, report, repeat. Analyze. Write down. Report. Repeat. No matter how draining it is, what matters is what one does in life. The purpose of life is to gain money, for that''s what humans have come up from: greed. This social concept shapes the world around us and keeps us on leashes; as it should. Without these leashes, we would revert back to apes. Without these leashes, we would all be bad children. Delinquents. Rapists. Burglars. Murderers. Nevermind those who are homeless. They had a chance and they blew it. Those who blame society are weak-willed. It''s a cutthroat business... this world. Socializing is for the lazy. Study, study, study. Maximize profits. Nevermind if a person''s parents are lackluster, it is up to an individual to care for themselves. With age comes maturity, and one must be aware of their surroundings, aware of how the world works, aware of how fucked a person is- how EVERYONE IS, how they are ALL using us. But there''s no use in complaining, because that is how the world works. Stick out too much, and you get hammered down. Speak out of line, you get shunned. Or god forbid, act like those lousy, loud Americans, and you''ll get exiled. There is nothing a person can do except... accept.
CRUNCH
I look down at my right hand.
My computer mouse shattered.
My neighbor looks at me with a confused look. I look back at him also confused.
I ask him "do you by any chance... have a spare?"
.
.
.
Several hours pass. It is 6 PM. Time flies when you''re having fun. I''m surprised by how smoothly this day has gone. I kept getting stares from everyone, and even some whispers here and there. A couple of people asked what was up, but I gave them a better answer than the one I gave Okita: I have a cold.
"Why don''t you call off work then?" they would ask.
"Are you kidding? I still want money." I would respond.
Most of them did a faint chuckle. Takeo cackled aloud. We all stared at him rudely. He didn''t care. For as obnoxious as he is, he still somehow seemed popular with most of the people in the office. I don''t get why. Someone who barely takes his job seriously, does the bare minimum, yet still has friends around him. Do they not see who he is? And for as much as I cuss him out, I must admit to myself and to no one else: I enjoy his company. I don''t know why, and I don''t like it.
Even though the Japanese rule for salarymen is to work from Nine to 5, it is also an unwritten rule to work overtime. Otherwise, you get rude stares. Few would leave work at Five; A good 80-90% of us stood at the office. Typical day after all.
Ironically, nobody can stay after Eleven PM unless they have explicit permission from their supervisor. Being the hard worker I am, I always ask my supervisor beforehand, so much so that I don''t have to ask him anymore. The company explicitly warned before to take breaks and leave before Eleven or else they could get in trouble again. A good four years ago, somebody died of over exhaustion. The company got in trouble, it was a huge scandal for local news, and the company got sued by the family, thus enforcing stricter rules at the workplace. But that won''t be such a case for me. Besides, I doubt anybody would notice if I died or not, so they have nothing to worry about. Hell, I''m hardly recognized at all hahaha! And what family would sue them? Certainly not mine. I would often joke about this situation to my supervisor. I could tell he looked uncomfortable. But I don''t get it. I''m giving them explicit permission to exploit me. I want money. Let me WORK damn it. If anything, at least that''ll be one way I''ll die comfortably: doing something I love. Isn''t that what society preaches nowadays? What hypocrites... Silly, really.
...Oh, speaking of which, I see my supervisor coming towards me. He has that same neutral expression.
"Yamada-San, the boss wants to see you."
Instantly, my heart sinks.
"Shit."
My supervisor looks at me as if he heard his cat talk.
"...Pardon?"
"Uh- I mean, sorry, of course, I''ll be right there. Excuse me."
He lets me pass through as I waddle towards the corner where his office is. I peer behind me. My supervisor gives me a distant stare.
I open the door.
There, my boss sits on his leathery throne. A desk that costs the same as my yearly salary, holding the weight of several reports and more importantly, my life. An old man that''s a bit on the bigger side, yet his face lacks the same blubber depth that his belly has. His glasses glare as he tilts his head downwards. The same look all my peers gave me earlier, but this one was more condensed, concentrated, harsher.
"....?"
He motions with his hand to close the door.
I walk over to him and shake his hand.
"....
?????????"
His face contorts into a weirded out expression.
I hear chuckles through the open door.
People saw.
As I attempt to take my hand off of his- I accidentally yank his arm.
"You can let go now," he demanded.
"Ah- aha, y-yes sir! Sorry I''m just-"
These damn cockroach hands. Why do they STICK?
After limping my hand, I''m finally able to let go.
"That''s... quite a grip you got there Yamada..."
"Sorry, you''re just a very intimidating man, Mr. Takeshi."
I close the door and sit down.
"Pardon my rude display Mr. Takeshi. I do give the sincerest apologies. Y-You called me over?"
"...Yes..."
"Is... something wrong?"
"...Why are you wearing that hat and heavy coat?"
"Ah well you see sir, I have a bit of a cold."
Mr. Takeshi snorts but brushes it off as if it were a cough.
"I...See...
Well, good news Yamada-San, I called you over to my office for a simple reason. Upper management and I have noticed how hard you have worked in the office. We know that you care about this job. Most of these folks do their job sure, and most of them even go overtime, but you-
you have passion; you have drive. I''ve never seen anyone type up so many reports in such a short amount of time. It''s like you don''t do anything except work" said the boss.
"Hhahah, that''s me!" I chuckle back.
"And next thing you''re going to say is that you don''t do anything besides work, gyahahah."
Takeshis laugh turned slightly louder.
"Tahahahaha, I don''t!" I respond back, laughing along.
"Hhehehh...right...well, in any news, as much as we would like to offer you an opportunity, we must also bring up a bad habit of yours."
"...
Bad...habit...?"
"Yes. We understand many employees take overtime. That''s fine. For most, that''s what any adult does out of obligation. Lord knows the economy is only getting worse. And if you look lazy in front of your peers, much less your employers well... that''s no good. And I know you know this. You know this so much that it''s ingrained itself into your very person. And that''s a problem."
I
I-
My heart drops.
"S-Sir, pardon but do you have the A/C on?"
"...No?"
"It''s just it''s... it''s really cold in here."
The boss gives me a confused look.
He looks behind himself at the greyish weather. Clouds are forming. The bright sun suffocates under the wet smog that''s about to occur.
He then turns back to me.
"It is twenty seven degrees celsius outside...?"
"Ahh I-I see sir. Sorry sir, please excuse me for interrupting you."
"...Of course. Well, it''s a problem. I''m pretty sure you''re already aware that an employee much like yourself passed away a couple of years ago from exhaustion. We understand that work is important, and a salary is also important, but I won''t insult your intelligence. He was a valuable asset to us. Brought in lots of money. But with his death, their family filed a lawsuit, and we lost that case. As if he earned back all the money he made us through the grave. As a company, we simply cannot risk something like that happening again. We appreciate your hard work, but what good is an asset if he''s an even bigger liabilit-"
"I don''t have a family."
Takeshi looks up at me all of a sudden.
"Anymore." I continue.
"You needn''t worry over such matters."
"...
Well, even if that were the case-" he says, readjusting his glasses,
"That would look bad for the company. They say ''any publicity is good publicity''. Wrong. That is a quote only idiots abide by. What fool would willingly attract negative attention to themselves? Who spread all of this backwards logic to the masses?
We did. The corporate landscape is one devoid of luck or mercy. I understand this may sound silly to you, but you must understand, we dumb these people down so that they can keep buying our products. If they fall for the bait, that is on them. The more people make fools out of themselves, the less potential competition there is. That is simply one way we make money. But you already know this. Philosophy has no room in our space. Thinking about ethics in commerce only halts progression. It is not a ''good'' or a ''bad'' thing, Yamada. It is simply a thing that is. This is your final warning Yamada-san. You are to clock out at 5 o''clock PM on the dot from now on. You are a very punctual person, we know that for a fact. Any minute later, your supervisor will have to open up an investigation."
"Will this affect my pay?"
"Well...of course? You''re only working eight hours now. That is simple math."
I look down at the spiraling floor.
"I see."
As my eyes, throat and lungs become tighter and tighter, Mr. Takeshi continues his lecture.
"That being said, the chewing out portion of the meeting is over with."
He reaches from the file cabinet in his desk. He fingers through various tabs and folders until he finally reaches for a paper and slaps it atop his desk.
He gives me a forced smile.
"Congratulations Yamada-San. Upper management, your supervisor, and I have been talking, and we see you as a perfect candidate for the supervisor position. You have the most skills out of all people in your sector, you do more than enough work, you''re punctual, you''re respectful, and most importantly, nobody else in your sector qualifies for this position yet."
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
As the sentence progresses more and more, my mood immediately inverts in on itself. My posture lines up straight (or as straight as it can be). My head faces forward towards him, and there''s finally a good thing happening to me today.
"S-Sir...I-I don''t know what to tell you! I''m relieved!"
"I''d expect that Yamada. However, you''ll have to be patient for another five more minutes. Though I am offering you this position, I must clarify a couple of rules and offerings before you sign the contract."
"Ah- alright, of course sir."
"First things first, would you be able to work at home, if given the opti-"
"YES" I blurt out.
I immediately cover my mouth in apology.
Takeshi gives me a look, but continues anyway.
"Bit excited aren''t we, Yamada-san" he comments.
"Eheh, naturally."
"...right."
Before his hatred for me cements, I interrupt him.
"Ah, what''s the reasoning for such a specific case?"
"Ah well you see, there''s a new load of people coming into the office. We''ve already asked a couple people to work from home and as a survey concludes, most of them did all of the work they were asked to do, did it on time, and freed up some space for new employees."
I literally couldn''t ask for anything better. At least now I don''t have to stress about how people look at me! Granted, getting groceries is going to be a pain, but as long as I shop during midnight, and burden myself with copious amounts of clothes, I can finally live a happy, restless life! Of course I wouldn''t be able to see Takeo anymore... alright well that''s two good scenarios at least, but a scenario that I truly wouldn''t like is not being able to see Miss Okita. Okita... Okita....
...
No. It wouldn''t have happened either way. So now that I make peace with that, I won''t have to worry about it in the future anymore. I suppose with some suffering comes some pay off... eventually.
"Yamada, are you listening?"
"AH- yes, sir!"
"So you agree to the last three terms I just stated?"
"Yes, of course sir!"
"Good. Well you might as well start with that coffee now."
"...Excuse me, sir?"
"It''s part of the terms that you just agreed to."
I give him a confused look.
Oh shit.
Seconds before shitting myself, he bursts out chuckling.
"I''m messing with you Yamada, cheer up! In all honesty, I try to keep a calm composure, but the rest of the office is right! You''re the only person who I can''t take seriously!"
"...
Well...
...I''m glad I could entertain you sir."
"Yes, ahem , excuse me. Let''s be honest, I know you well enough that you''d sign the agreement form without reading it. Am I correct?"
"Well, who would say no to a promotion; of course you''re correct sir."
"Exactly. It is a good thing that everything is online nowadays. There will be a virtual server where you will be able to clock in, so we can actually hold you down to our agreement before the online replacement issue is even brought into the equation."
They were planning to fire me before then? For how long?? WHAT?
"So just sign here and then your new life as a supervisor begins effective tomorrow."
"Ah, yes, perfect."
I can hardly contain myself. It would be easier for me to run around the office or jump out a window than contain my excitement. I can feel my body vibrate in place. Oh god I need to stop this. It''s too much. But... but. The thing I''ve been waiting for these past years. I pick up the pen on his desk. The oils on my fingers stick onto the writing utensil. The sword. The machete. Of which to cleave and carve my way past this macabre day. Onwards to a better day, a BRIGHTER day! All of this suffering was for something after all! DAMN IF THIS PEN HOLDS THE WEIGHT OF MY LIFE, I''LL HAPPILY CARRY IT AS LONG AS I CAN FINALLY CONTAIN THIS NIGHTMARE. No more stressing about work. No more stressing about damn noisy neighbors. No more stressing about the fools around me. No more SUFFERING. I CAN FINALLY BE HAPPY FOR ONCE. YEARS THAT HAVE BEEN WASTED NOW MADE UP FOR SOMETHING. THE WORST HOURS OF MY LIFE CULMINATING INTO A GRAND PROMOTION, AND THEN SOON- ANOTHER- THEN ANOTHER- THEN ANOTHER. AS LONG AS NOBODY SEES ME, NOBODY WILL KNOW THAT I LACK THE HUMANITY THESE FUCKS AROUND ME HAVE. YES. YES! DAMNED IF I''LL NEVER FEEL THE WARMTH OF A WOMAN, OR THE JOY OF MY CHILD RUNNING AROUND. DAMN IF I WILL NEVER GAIN RESPECT FROM PEERS AND STRANGERS ALIKE. DAMN, DAMN, DAMN IT ALL. AS LONG AS I SIGN
THIS
FUCKING-
"mmmm
Hold that thought Yamada-san."
Mr. Takeshi halts me as I write the first stroke of my name.
I look up at him in disbelief.
"wh-
what happened sir?"
"Before you finalize your name on there,
I will have to ask you to take off your hat and mask."
Wh
What
Wh
...
What
"What"
"Take it off."
"S-Sir-"
"Take off your hat
and mask
and might as well do yourself a favor and take off your coat too.
It''s hot and humid outside! Surely you don''t want to be sweaty when you''re sick, right?"
My eyes instinctively twitch.
"I
I''m sorry sir, but I can''t do that."
"...
hm.
Interesting."
He pauses and looks into the distance. We both sit there in silence for a brief moment.
He then continues.
"Well, it was a pleasure talking to you Mr. Yamada. The work restrictions hours are nevertheless still in pla-"
"WOAH HEY HEY HEY-
I''m sorry, I just...
I just...
Can''t take off my clothes. I''m sick, like I told you earlier. Don''t want to get my superior sick as well you kno-"
"I don''t think taking off the top layer of your clothes for five seconds is going to infect me. Running around the office like a fucking clown. Aren''t you thirty years old? Who the fuck does that. What''s wrong with you? Did your parents starve you of so much attention that now you''re looking for it under the guise of ''oh i''m just sick'' tch. Actively looking for pity. Go on. I don''t have all day."
"Now hold on a minute sir, isn''t that an odd request to ask an employee? Under section thirteen of the code of conduct in the company''s policy book, it says-"
"Do it or you''re fired. I can''t stand people who waste my time."
"..."
...
"..."
...
Well, here we are.
The first time I would ever have to defend myself in a social sense. I hate that it wouldn''t be in front of Ms. Okita. Or any attractive woman as a matter of fact. Hate that I could never prove my masculinity to my father. Or anything to him. Or anyone, really.
...
Well, if he''s asking, I might as well give him what he wants.
"..."
I stand up.
Towering over him with my back straight, with my legs finally standing in a comfortable way.
I take off my puffy overcoat. He''s right; finally, I''m not baking inside this damn office.
I take off my hat. To hell with this stupid attire. I don''t even know why I wore it in the first place.
"I don''t know what''s so interesting about my face.
But I''ll warn you;
I was never known for my looks."
As I take off my hat, my other arm rips off the blue face mask. Finally, I can comfortably breathe.
I even take off my glasses, just for the fuck of it.
There he sits, shadowed by the colossal freak that I am. His face morphs from confusion, to surprise, to shock, to one akin to having an aneurysm. I reach for the pen on the desk. He falls on the floor and crawls backwards. I write my name on the contract. He stays there.
"I''ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Takeshi.
Have a good day."
I pick up the majority of my disguise from the floor and equip it back on while shrinking down to my usual "human" posture. As I walk over to the door, Mr. Takeshi reaches for his phone and starts dialing, then stammering.
''Y-Y-Y-YES, EMERGENCY, THE-THER-THERE''S-"
I close the door behind me. Quietly.
My heart sinks.
My throat hurts.
My skin feels as fragile as paper.
I look back behind me just to check if the blinds were open or closed.
Oh, they were closed? Good.
So tell me.
Why is everyone in the office looking at me?
...
Oh shit, I left my overcoat behind on the chair I was sitting in.
Right now it must''ve revealed my comically sized hunchback....
and the bottom of my wings near my legs...
Quick, come up with a distraction.
"...Let''s not get nosey now. Get back to work haha..."
A few of them listen. Most of them don''t.
People are staring.
I can feel the cold sensation now. Their gazes picking apart every little flaw in my disguise. My pants are dirtier than usual. Now that they think about it, I would never wear a hat indoors. It was odd to begin with, but even more ridiculous now. Oh great. NOW IS THE TIME THEY REMEMBER THE REAL ME? My glasses are a bit off. My facial structure... there''s no way someone''s face is not long, especially not Yamada-San''s. He has a square and plain face, not this flat and long head. Why all of a sudden-
Why is it that people pay most attention to me at my lowest?
"We heard a scream in there" announces a coworker far from where I am standing. He had a shaky base to his voice.
I quickly think on my feet.
"He had a cramp but he''s fine now," I say back with a confident tone.
To assure people, I further my assertiveness.
"I didn''t do anything to him."
Clear, bold voice of confidence escapes my lips.
And yet.
I hear hearts thumping. Why is it that I hear my own heart? I clarified with a confident voice that he was fine. And yet, why must I feel afraid? I clearly said in a bold voice that I didn''t harm him. People listen to confident sounding egoists. Then tell me- why must they keep staring at me like that?
This tension. This palpable pulse. I can grasp it with my fingers. The feeling of people''s throats.
No... this loud thumping. It''s not my own heart;
It''s the sound of all of their hearts pounding.
And this smell, a truly intoxicating smell. An invigorating sense of superiority when I smell it. Akin to smelling rotting fruits or milk. Akin to looking at an insect.
The smell
of fear.
For once in my life,
I hold these reins.
And yet.
And yet.
What am I supposed to do with these?
I hold my palms up as I walk over to get some coffee at the break room.
"Well in other news...you''re looking at the new potential supervisor!"
Nobody reacts. Everyone was still.
"...was expecting some claps... well, in either case, we should all just go back to work and-"
DWAA-OOOHHHHH!
RRRRRIIIPPPPPPP
What the?
The carpet from before.
The same one that I tripped on earlier. Just happened to keep its ever-present bump and make me tumble down to the floor again. Pathetic as always, Yamada. The eternal clown Yamada. Even when I have people in the palm of my hands, I can''t even capitalize on it, and I go back to square one with my life. God...
...
Well, now that I''ve made a complete ass of myself, at least all these people can go back to normal and stop fear...ing...
...me....
As I got up, all of the faces morphed into a macabre mesh of the same reaction. An otherworldly sense of similarity. All of them. All of these humans. All of their flaws and drinking habits and mundane lives mashed together into an army of fearful ants. All of them bearing the same expression with slight accentuations. Peeled back eyebrows, mouths agape. As if singing a choir of fate. A council that spells out my destiny. Judgment. Those god damn eyes. Those GOD- DAMN EYES.
People are staring.
And they''ll never stop.
"What... is something wrong?" I ask the crowd.
I scratch an itch that''s near my back.
BZZ BZZ
I move my wing out of the way to scratch the spot. Come to think about it, it''s been bothering me for a while but I didn''t want to risk...
....
...I moved my wing...out...of.....
I
I....
People are staring.
Silence is loud. It''s been a minute and forty two seconds since people saw the rip on the back of my suit. All of my coworkers crowd to the back of the office as far as they could. I have a sea of thoughts going through my head. Thoughts so loud it drowns out the screaming and the cursing. My main thought that''s been bothering me is, aside from why this entire thing was happening to me right now of all things, why did my suit rip now? I was crawling earlier at high speeds and yet, a simple trip and fall was the only way it ripped? I know I took precise care in bending my legs to the safest degree, so that my clothes didn''t rip. But I guess not everything can be accounted for. Accidents happen.
...
It''s ironic isn''t it. For as much precision and care that I took to not bending my clothes, or getting caught by anyone, or reassuring people that nothing suspicious is going on, all it took was a damn carpet to take me down. That really is a divine comedy- a cosmic comedy! Go ahead, Kami of Japan! All of you, strike me down! Because by god- by YOU, I WOULD MUCH PREFER DEATH OVER THIS. I PRAY TO YOU, AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME? MISERY. MISERY. MISERY. WHAT HAVE I DONE TO GAIN THIS!? LIVE TOO RAMBUNCTIOUS, I GET PUNISHED. LIVE TOO HOLY, I STILL GET CURSED. GO AHEAD THEN, SEND EVERYTHING YOU HAVE. I DOUBT I GIVE A FUCK ANYMORE-
The door to the office entrance opens up to my right.
In comes an officer looking down at his clipboard and report.
"Excuse me, is this the accounting firm of Hyoshi Analytic-"
He looks up and sees the crowd of people near the wall.
"What the...?"
He looks to his right and sees me.
I look at him.
Oh shit.
"Oh shit-"
OH SHIT.
"OH SHIT."
"OH SHIT!"
He drops his clipboard and frantically unholsters his revolver.
"WHAT
WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING?"
I forget that since my suit is ripped from the back, my suit is practically hanging onto my body.
I instinctively go into the lowest form of apology: Dogeza.
"I''M SORRY OFFICER I DIDN''T DO ANYTHING I DIDN''T MEAN TO SCARE MY COWORKERS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON''T HURT ME!"
I meant every word when I said it. My soul is on the brink of exploding. I can feel reality crumble around me. I just want this day to be over.
But then again.
Self awareness is cruel.
As I soon remembered the form I was given-
and the perception people would take of me.
"IT''S TAKING AN OFFENSIVE STANCE" one of my coworkers shouted.
"SHOOT IT SHOOT IT SHOOT IT!!!!!!!" cried another.
...
what
...
WHAT
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
I THEN FORGOT.
WHEN ANIMALS ARE CORNERED
THEY ARE FEARFUL.
AND WHEN THEY ARE FEARFUL
THEY ARE AT THEIR MOST DANGEROUS.
BANG!
He shot.
The officer shot at me.
THE OFFICER SHOT AT ME-
AND I INSTINCTIVELY DODGE.
With my back up against the wall, I take deep breaths, I gasp for air. My hat falls off and exposes my antenna. For as much as the suit is hanging on, it fails in covering up my second pair of arms.
I look at the officer with my face mask and glasses. There''s no point in trying to disguise myself. Yet I still scream for mercy. Everyone is in too much shock to attempt to understand.
I look at the officer with pleading eyes.
All I see are fearful spirals.
"GE-GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME" he shouts.
...
Is that what everyone wanted from the beginning?
To be avoided by me? Is that it? Am I such an insect that they would prefer not to hang around me? Am I that much of a nuisance? Despite the fact that I rarely ever bother anyone else? I never poke the bear but during childhood, all of the kids just NEEDED to poke and prod and bother and SPIT AND HIT AND RIP AWAY AT ME?. IS THAT IT? TO GET RID OF ME? SOMEONE WHO BARELY HAS ANY FUNCTION OF SELF RESPECT? AND YET YOU STILL FIND IT FUNNY TO HUNT ME DOWN? FOR SHAME- ON ME. TO THINK SOMETHING AS SILLY AS BEING BORING WOULD LEAVE ME BE.
I stand up straight, unhinging my legs and my stature.
I dash towards him, yanking the gun out of his hand before he could even react.
"IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED? TO GET RID OF ME?" I yell aloud.
I walk away from the officer as he falls on his ass in terror.
"WELL AT LEAST GIVE ME THE HONORS TO DO IT. THAT WAY, I''LL AT LEAST CONTRIBUTE ONE GOOD THING IN MY LIFE."
I point the gun towards my cheek at an upward angle.
Bang.
A whimper is heard.
The sound echoes throughout the room and makes everyone temporarily deaf.
Smoke emits.
I feel a sting. A hot sensation on my cheek.
The perception of time skews.
.
.
.
As I await to see the Kami that have cursed me, the cloud parts its way.
It reveals:
my coworkers.
I look to the right of me.
The officer is groaning on the ground, as blood comes out of his right foot.
I stare back at the gun.
There is indisputable truth that what just happened really did just happen.
I touch my right cheek.
It hurts but over all, the sensation of my then-plump cheek turning into a steel-like face is... completely fine.
I instinctively drop the gun and crawl down towards the officer.
"ARE YOU OKAY? I''M SO SOR-"
"STAY BACK YOU MONSTER, STAY- STAY THE FUCK AWAY!!!!!"
I get up and inch away.
I look back at the crowd. I see everyone crying for their lives.
Takeo. Amai. Koji. The person who sits next to me. My supervisor.
Okita.
She gives me a warped stare. One with so many emotions it''s hard to describe something so visceral.
Their eyes.
I''ve never felt so ripped apart in my entire life.
Tears go down my cheeks too.
Yet.
As if they could ever tell.
I run towards the windows and crash through, jumping out and unleashing my wings in a flurry.
My vision is blurry.
My heart hurts.
My brain hurts.
With this body I feel free from the corporate vice grip.
I am free of the people who hated me, and the lifestyle that has haunted me for the past decade or so of my life.
Even if an idiot were to excuse these events in the most roundabout ways,
why bless them with something they never asked for.
Suffice to say.
I don''t think I''ll be getting that promotion.
.
.
.
I hid under a bridge near the edge of town. One by the forest. My suit is tattered, barely intact. The lower part of my pants are ripped, leaving me with these dirty fancy shorts. It''s mucky here. Grimy. Humid.
...
The rain rises at a rapid pace.
I do not care.
It''s cold down here.
I do not care.
I lay here, resting, taking a much needed nap near my brethren, these cretins, these field mice and crickets, and ants, and cockroaches.
It all hurts.
But I do not care.
I look upwards at the ceiling of the bridge. Counting all the bricks that made this humble bridge. Thinking about the hands that helped to make it.
I wonder if people have thought about the hands that made the things around us. No doubt it''s all done out of business. God knows who ever does city projects out of the sake of benevolence. Even now, my bosses were correct. Everything is done out of business.
...
I have to wait a couple hours for nightfall so that I won''t be seen.
...
Even if I do be seen though, I doubt I would care...
...
I turn to my side, the way which was most comfortable for me to sleep in my human days.
I try and try and try. Yet the shape of my back simply forbids me.
I cry.
.
.
.
It is 9 PM.
I fly throughout the city and land on my apartment roof. I''ve never seen this perspective of the city. I thought it was neat. Very pretty.
I got bored of it after twelve seconds.
I know it''s no use.
I know it''s no use.
But my heart still palpitates for you.
Hopefully I can convince her, hopefully she can understand the curse that has befallen within me.
I take out the phone within my pocket.
...
I put it back in.
...
I take it back out.
What would I even say?
I''m sorry? Please forgive me? It''s not what it looks like? You don''t understand what it''s like to be me? To suffer with a boring personality, to be- A LITERAL COCKROACH? That I have a crush on you? That you are the only person that I have ever felt warmth to? Because I heard you piss one day? Or simply because you''re adorable in your mannerisms? What do I say...
What should I say...
I can''t confess to her...
And it''s already too late.
If only the logical mind met eye to eye with the emotional mind.
Ring ring
...
Ring ring
...
I hang up.
...all that...
Here we go again. Just another day as Yamada the coward. Even if you take the human out of Yamada, he''s only left as the cockroach he i-
Ring ring
What''s this?
Okita...is calling me back?
I instantly pick up?
Silence.
"H-hello?" I whisper in.
"Yamada."
"Ah, Okita-san! I just wanted to call you to s-"
"Don''t bother.
Look...I don''t....
..."
I can feel her hesitating to not end the phone call. Who knew a woman had balls bigger than me.
"I don''t know what''s going on with you. And I don''t want to know. This will be your only warning to never call me again. I fear that if I blocked you without saying anything, you would hunt me down. I don''t know what''s become of you but...b-but... just... just leave me alone.
Goodbye."
CLICK
...
What''s become of me...
What''s become of me...?
I look towards myself.
"...Is it not obvious???"
.
.
.
I finally open the latch of the roof and climb down. Most people are already asleep, plus I don''t smell anyone down the hall. I gently walk over to my door.
There is a yellow note posted on it.
``???? ????.????????????. ?????? ?????????? ???????? ???????? ???? ?????????????????? ???????????????????? ???????????????????? ???????? ???????? ???? ???????? ???? ???????? ?????????? ????????????????????. ???????? ???? ???????? ???????? ???????? ???????? ?????? ???????????? ?????? ?????????????????? ?????? ???????????? ???? ?????????? ????????????. ?????? ?????????????????? ???? ?????? ?????????????????? ???????? ???? ?????????????? ???????? ???? ?? ?????????? ?????? ???? ?????? ??????????????????????. ???? ???????? ???????????? ?????? ???????? ?????? ???????? ???? ???????? ???????????????????? ???????????? ?????? ????????, ???? ???????? ?????? ?????????????????????? ???????? ???? ????????????. ??????????????????, ?????? ?????????? ???? ?????????????????? ????????????????????.``
...
So it was over before it even started.
...
『Chapter 5: Tantric Brawling Burning Lesson』
Present day.
11 AM
Naoki Miyamoto and Naota Sen are outside behind the academy where the park was at. Said "park" was more of an open field full of parched grass, dirt, and sand. It is a bright and blazing morning. The wind is cool and breezy. Nobody else is outside. The sun stares at them. The birds watch. They have been physically training for the past six hours.
Bruises were peppered all throughout Naoki''s body, alongside a few scant cuts here and there. The teenager breathes heavily, wiping off the pint of sweat on his brow. His tank top grossly sticks to him with all the sweat acting as adhesive. Shorts weren''t doing him much good. Perhaps he should''ve worn less black next time. He sits back up, after resting on the ground for a couple of seconds. He smiles at his teacher.
"Aren''t you at least a bit hot?"
Naota did not have a single scratch on him, much less a single bead of sweat. He wore his typical indigo tank top and shorts combo, alongside his iconic sunglasses. He was positioned a few meters away from his student.
"It''s a bit warm, but if you actually managed to make me move seriously, then maybe I''d start sweating.
But alas,
no dice."
The teacher shot a teasing smirk towards Naoki.
"(Tch, fucking prick...)" thought Naoki to himself, chuckling.
Naoki taunts, "I thought you were the mature type!" He then gets up.
"Well I guess you thought wrong."
Naota sticks his tongue out in a cheeky fashion.
"Tcheheheheh.... alright."
Naoki dusts himself off and assumes his fighting stance once more. With a loose and slightly hunched over posture, and an orthodox footing for a kickboxer, he readies his right hand near his chin, while his open left hand guards the other side of his face.
Naota slowly uncrosses his arms and readies a loose boxing stance.
Miyamoto thinks to himself: "(These past few ''rounds'', I''ve been coming towards him... so now, how about having him come towards m-)"
Within an instant, Naota reads Naoki''s body language and deduces his plan of action.
In a fraction of a second, Naota traverses several meters and slips through Naoki''s guard, launching a meaty punch that sends Naoki a few yards away. As he''s sent flying, a stream of blood flows out of Naoki''s nose like a hose. The kid''s limp body thuds on the ground; soon after, he lets out a loud muffled groan.
At that moment, both Naoki''s mind and Naota''s lips said the same thing:
"No, that won''t work."
Naoki got up, dusted himself off, and resumed his stance once more.
"(Okay, so that didn''t work; point taken.)"
As Naoki ponders up a plan, Naota shoots out a reminder.
"Remember, you only need to graze me once before we start to amp it up."
"Oh- oh! OH NO REALLY? Naaaaaaahhhh, thanks for reminding me! Little hurdle though, I can''t fucking HIT THIS ASSHOLE"
"...hey that''s not very nice..."
Naota puts his hand on his chin as if he were pondering.
"On one hand, it would be rude to start before you''re ready...
...on the other hand-
The enemy won''t wait for you to be ready."
"Oh god damn i-"
The teacher bursts forward with his hands in a Peek-a-boo style boxing position; as he closes the distance, he starts shooting out quick jabs and straights. Naoki jumps back, aiming to circle around his opponent so that one of the straights stray forward, thus enabling Naoki to slip and counter from the side. But the more Naoki tries to backtrack, the closer Sen gets, denying such simple leeway. To turn the tides around, Naoki tries to shoot back a couple of strikes while backpedaling. Though this does stave off a couple of shots, this doesn''t change the position: Naoki is still on his backfoot- quite literally. So instead of backtracking and trying to have Sen falter with timing, Naoki instead stands his ground, deflects a jab, and parries a straight that came after that. Without breaking a beat, Naota ducks underneath Naoki''s counter hook. To counter a hook, Naota, like most boxers, opt to shoot an uppercut.
Naoki expects this.
So instead of committing a complete hook, Naoki seems as if he was about to shoot a hook but in actuality, was scrunching up his right arm and rolled his shoulder over. He slams his own forearm to block Naota''s uppercut, and uses his left hand to throw a hook towards Sen''s head. Since Naota''s right arm was busy throwing an uppercut- and was blocked, there is no way he could block with the same arm. With frustrated vigor and uncontained excitement, Naoki grits his teeth and shoots his punch.
"IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII GOTCHA-"
His punch stops an inch from Naota''s head.
Naota catches Naoki''s wrist with his left hand.
"If we were normal people, that would''ve hit.
But-"
Naoki sighs, groaning his sentence while bracing himself for what''s to come.
"-we''re not normal people..."
Tightening his grip, Naota carries Naoki''s body over the air and slams him on the ground. Naoki''s left shoulder dislocates upon impact.
"GAH-" gasps Naoki as all the wind gets knocked out of him.
In frustration, he says, "Hey, when am I able to use psychopower?"
Naoki muffles his pained groan as he pops his shoulder back into place.
"I get the basic gist of the exercise but this is looking to be impossible ??"
"You''re not allowed to use PsychoPower until you land a hit on me. If you depend on psychopower whenever you get yourself in trouble, you and your ki won''t get stronger. And when you put too much pressure on that crutch- it breaks."
Naoki sighes, before rebutting, "I understand that, but it''s still a part of my kit. I think it''s stupid to just depend on one thing if I can''t use the other."
"You''re thinking about it the wrong way. If you use one when the other fails, and vice versa, what happens when both don''t work?"
"I just mix them together."
"That is a solution. However, if the fundamentals of both aren''t solid enough in the first place, what makes you think mixing them together will grant you a high chance at victory? Don''t get me wrong, I understand what you''re saying and for the most part, it has some truth to it. But let''s say for example, your ki mastery is at 10% as well as your psychopower mastery."
"Dude, there''s no way I''m that weak??"
"Again, you''re not, I''m just explaining it in a digestible way. Besides, equating ki, psychopower, and sorcery mastery in terms of percentages is a bit facetious since the term for ''mastery'' is so broad, it can''t be equated on a one-to-one ratio with percentages, but I digress. Again, just for explanation''s sake. So, let''s say your ki and psychopower are both at 10%. If you add them both together, you get 20%. Let''s throw in a little extra 5% in the chance that you come up with a creative mix-up that the opponent doesn''t see coming. 25% right? Simple. Now, let''s say your opponent has ki that''s at 25%. Just ki; no sense of sorcery or psychopower at all. He''s going to kick your ass, let''s be honest-"
"-Wait but then I''m right!" interrupts Naoki. "What would be the point of training in ki if someone out there is just going to brutalize me with specialization? Then I''ll just use psychopower!"
"Ah but that''s the thing. Even if his resistance to psychopower is low (though he specializes in ki compared to you, I''m sure he would have a defense against that but regardless), if he senses that you''re able to use psychopower, let me ask you this question: what makes you think he''s going to let you use it in the first place? The very first thing in his mind is ''damn, this guy has an ability that I don''t like, I''ll just blitz him''. And yes, you have greater psychopower than him, which can give you an edge, don''t get me wrong. But if you don''t have ki that''s good enough to defend or outpace him, what makes you think you won''t be obliterated in the first few seconds of the fight."
Naoki grumbles at the lecture.
"Mmmmm.... I guess..."
"You have the right mind on track, don''t get me wrong. But, for people like you and I whose skill sets are half-and-half, I''m just training you in what''s optimal. There''s merit to being an all-rounder, just as there is to being a pure specialist; conversely, we all suffer our own weaknesses. You do have the right mindset: ''if this won''t work I''ll use this, and combine my abilities to defeat my opponent''. But you just don''t have the various options that an all-rounder has; your kit is just not as big as theirs. So we''re simply just solidifying your base, but not to the point of a specialist. The literal middle path. Got it?"
"Yeah...yeah..."
Naota inches closer to Naoki.
Naoki dusts himself off and gets up.
"From the top," they both announce.
Naota continues to pressure Naoki again with jabs and elbows. Naoki attempts to parry them, but due to the increasing speed, a couple of strikes manage to slip through and pepper his face with bruises. To stop this barrage, Naoki''s plan evolves.
The student thinks to himself, "(if I''m getting hit even attempting to dodge these, then I might as well trade blows with him)."
The teacher''s intuition reads Naoki''s attempt loud and clear.
As a response, he slips underneath a cross from Naoki and greets his student''s stomach with a meaty hook. The student of course falls to his knees, holding his stomach.
"You were planning on trading blows, weren''t you?" says the teacher with an unamused tone.
Naoki stays silent; probably because he''s hurling a liter of saliva.
"I''ll grant you extra points for ingenuity, but the last thing you want to do is trade blows, especially if the person is stronger than you-"
As Naoki finishes coughing, he immediately dashes towards Naota from his crouched position.
Miyamoto proceeds to send a flurry of punches and elbows towards Naota''s way. Though the teacher takes little effort in dodging the strikes, he''s at least being kept busy. Just as the teacher pivots to the side, Naoki does the same, sidestepping so that they face the same way again. The teacher shoots a raised eyebrow; "(back to square one?)" he thinks to himself. As every punch fails to miss its mark, that''s when Naoki starts seeing the "holes" in the defense. Yes... that''s it... If my elbows don''t reach, then I''ll just punch. If my punches don''t reach his face, then I''ll keep him from backpedaling. If he keeps dodging my punches, then I''ll aim for the stomach. If he blocks the stomach then I will simply continue with the recycling punches jab -> cross -> hook -> uppercut -> cross -> hook -> uppercut -> cross -> hook -> uppercut. Slowly yet surely, the teacher''s concentration in the fight steadily grew. Yes... Yes; this is it Naoki, you''re doing great! The sun shines upon them, their silhouettes highlighted. The light''s angle lowers, illuminating the shadow''s potential. Onlookers look at the both of them, bloodied and bruised. Naota pattycakes Naoki''s punches faster and faster. Both of them smile in the moment. Absolute elation. Endorphic heaven. Five minutes of physical enlightenment.
Right as one of Naoki''s punches graze mere centimeters apart from Naota''s chin, the teacher slips back and counters with a hook aimed towards Naoki''s face.
Even if he weren''t looking, Naoki feels it. The intention. A realization of the movement inside his personal space. He instinctively ducks underneath the punch.
Naoki dodges.
The student immediately postures up, processing what just happened. Both the teacher and the student halt their movements, look at each other, and share the same expression.
"...Huh...Huh? Did I just? Ha...Hahahaha! I dodged it. I DODGED IT!" shouts Naoki.
"You did!" congratulates Naota.
"Did you see that? I ACTUALLY DID IT PAHAHAHAHA-"
Naota punches Naoki in the face, indenting the student''s nose inside its socket.
With a confused look, Naota looks at his fist, then at his student on the ground.
"...
...why didn''t you dodge that one...?"
"Haha...I get it... the opponent isn''t going to wait for me when I''m excited, I know..." groans Naoki, pulling his nose back out.
"...but that wasn''t a joke...?" mutters Naota.
"I digress though. You''re starting to get the main lesson at hand. You felt it just now right? That odd feeling of being able to read the situation?"
Naoki gets up and responds, "reading my opponent?"
"No. That''s a totally separate thing; almost a complete opposite of that in fact."
Naoki visibly ponders, before Naota continues his sentence.
"Don''t think about it, I''ll explain later. If anything, don''t think at all. Let your body do the acting. You''ll see what I mean, come on."
Naoki''s disgruntled look slowly evaporates as the both of them assume their fighting stances yet again.
They both breathe in.
Then out.
.
.
.
BOOM
Shockwaves spark as they ram against each other. Immediately starting off with a barrage of punches, both of them parry with one hand and strike with the other, playing this brutal game of patty cake. They whimsically dance this joyous tune. No ill will against each other. A physical manifestation of respect. The pace increases every second. The air around them gets thicker, as their sweat evaporates into a dense fog. Faster. FASTER. For every punch Naoki manages to dodge, his face gets berated with four other ones at different angles. Yet, for every punch that makes a clean hit on Naoki''s person, the closer the margin between them gets. All he needs is one clean punch.
Naoki throws a combination of punches towards his teacher''s face; the teacher responds by casually slipping past them. Though, he''s quick to stumble upon a rising problem. For each punch that Naoki dodges, he would get hit four times... and then soon after, dodge, get punched only three times. "(Shit, really?)" thought Naota to himself, wearing an excited smile. Unfortunately, for as tough as the kid is, the amount of hematomas that layered his body for the past couple hours have begun to take a physical toll. His limber, fresh arms started to feel as if they were being held down by sandbags. His lungs felt as if they were minutes away from rupturing. All he can taste, smell, and partially see is blood.
But.
But.
As if that were ever enough to deter him.
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With concentrated vigor, and a body that thinks for its mind, Naoki''s body gaslit itself into being unbothered.
The combinations grew faster. Jabs, crosses, hooks, elbows, sidestepping, backtracking, all of it were put into play as they both entered this mental tug of war. Just as the both of them progress in power and speed, Naota throws a wrench in and mixes the flow with a kick. Seeing as how he''s faster than Naoki, he knew that he would be able to throw this out; were it Naoki who threw kicks into the mix, he would get his ass knocked down, and they knew this. Just as the roundhouse kick was about to cleave Naoki''s head, he leans back and uses that momentum to lean forward and deliver his own mix up: an overhand right. Naota swiftly takes a step back, rendering the attack useless.
...Before Naoki redirects his momentum to switch again into a different attack: a spinning back elbow aimed at Naota''s skull.
Within the last millisecond, the teacher manages to grasp the elbow before it hit him. Naoki rips his elbow out of the teacher''s grasp, backpedaling a couple steps back.
"Shit, that was close!" comments Naota
"MAN you''re annoying to fight ??" rebuts the student.
"Although.
You are sweating now."
Sen wipes the sweat off his brow.
"That, I am."
They continue striking each other. However, it''s hard to say whether the student was on the backfoot at this phase. He hasn''t landed a hit yet, sure, however, in this temporary enlightenment, he taps into it. Yes... YES.
No words were needed. Every time Naota''s punch grazes his student''s skin, the communication was loud and clear.
You feel it now, don''t you?
I do, I actually get what you mean now.
Naoki spits blood as his cheek is met with Naota''s fist.
Even though I''m still getting hit, I knew it was coming.
Naoki sends his own elbow, mere nanometers away from hitting his teacher''s clavicle.
It''s as if I''m passively reading blurs of timelines. Reading the intuition of the soul... no... not the soul; the body. The more we fight, the clearer the passages get.
Naoki''s eyes glare at his teacher. A unique, bloody smile.
It''s as if I can smell your plan. The chemicals and signals in your neurotransmitters...I can smell them. Every twitch fiber and follicle in your being, I see them. A moving painting. A beautiful visage that I must study and adapt to. Like swimming through mud... or a tidal wave. I refuse to get swept up. Sink or swim; I will adapt, and I will swim through this. This body is an algorithm and the more you hit me, the faster I see the hole''s in your defense. THAT''S RIGHT. The problems present themselves, and I''ll swiftly deduce them. Laid out in these scriptures, it is inevitable.
Just as Noaki throws his 147th uppercut -> hook -> straight combo, they repeat the same interaction from earlier. Naoki blocks Naota''s uppercut, leaving Naoki to shoot his hook. The teacher grimaces at his student''s mistake, automatically putting his hand up to catch the hook once more.
Oh but that''s what I expected. I knew you were going to do that. You WOULD do that wouldn''t you?
Naoki returns his hook preemptively, immediately ducking down.
"Huh?"
Naoki cocks his right arm back, with the intent to deliver a strike that encompasses five hours worth of frustration, grit, and joy.
The teacher lowers his guard to his stomach. For a brief moment, he sees a train come after him, and hardens his body to block the force.
...
...
..?
Surprised, Naota looks up from his guard, waiting for the brutish wallop to land on his defense.
Naoki sidesteps to his left.
Awaiting for a punch that would never hit, Naota takes his turn and tries to counter Naoki''s attempt at a hook to the stomach.
*bop*
...?
Naoki stands tall, glowing, basking in the sunlight. His bloodied and bruised composition doesn''t deter from his accomplishment. Miyamoto spits out a pint of blood, before facing his teacher, snapping his fingers, and pointing at his nose.
"Gotcha."
Sen smells a faint hint of blood.
He looks down and touches his nose.
It''s bleeding.
"Huh....
Ha...!
You did it!"
"I know I did."
The teacher walks up to his student and messes his hair up.
"How did you do it?"
"I expected you to block such an obvious punch to the stomach, so I used it as a feint, and instead shot a jab at your nose as you shot your own punch. I only needed to get a hit in, right? So it doesn''t matter if it was strong or not."
"Tch-heheheh... you''re something else kid. Let''s head to the Medic''s office for a bit, patch ourselves up, and then go back out here for reaction testing."
"...hey I thought you said we were going to get a break?"
"...the medic''s office is the break."
They continue walking towards the school''s direction.
"Say Sen, how did you know about that...technique? Mindset? How would you describe that?"
"Well, first of all, let''s get that second question out of the way. I guess the closest thing would be an automatic mentality. It''s like when sports professionals are in the zone, or whenever a person is in danger. They don''t overcomplicate and flood their minds with complex thoughts or plans. They don''t think. They simply do. They go with the gut. Now, since we''re prone to the spiritual world, this obviously carries itself to an exponential degree. I''m sure you felt something ethereal about it, right?"
"Ooooh trust me, that barely scratches the surface. I''ve never done drugs before but I''m assuming that''s what being high feels like."
"Ehh, kinda. You can thank the chemicals in your body and your brain for that feeling. But it has merit. Not taking drugs no, I''m not talking about that. I''m talking about the function. What you just experienced was the flow of combat. You didn''t just participate in it, you actively saw it through an altered perspective. You predicted without using your mind. You successfully expected your opponent to do certain movements. It''s fighting instinctively. Your body felt like it was-"
"Thinking for my mind, yeah..." cut off Naoki.
"I''m expecting you''ve experienced this before, right?"
"Well of course. Tapping into it is easier said than done, though. I''ve been practicing it even before your age, but getting into that mindset is just... you just have to tap into it you know? You can''t force it. And even then, you''ve only had a mere taste of it. It takes years to permanently get into that state of mind, much less being able to use it to a higher degree... but I don''t think it''s well worth it. Imagine that: being in a permanent state of panic. An innocent kid could drop a pencil and your body would automatically eviscerate them just because your conscious mind was too slow to stop it."
"Panic...Panic...?" responds Naoki.
"But I didn''t feel panicky? I felt alive."
"Granted, the example I just explained was a bit of hyperbole, but it still holds some truth to it. That being said, you have a point; and both are true. Your mind would be elated, while your body automatically moves for you, treating everything as a threat."
"So what you''re saying is, the mind becomes a slave to the body."
"Yes...and no. Only because I''ve never met anyone who''s managed to get far into training that. So we''re just spit-balling theoretical effects here."
"Say...I''m expecting the answer to be yes, but, I''ll still ask it anyway. Does anybody else know about this technique?"
"Yes, but not as many as you''d expect. So far it''s you, me, and... well seeing as how old Hanayama is, there''s no doubt he''s at least dabbled in it. I don''t doubt a couple of other students or agents from other schools know of it but... it''s relatively rare. Even a master of Ki like Django doesn''t know it... probably because he''s not Buddhist..."
Naoki makes a weirded out face.
"...What does being Buddhist have to do with being able to see the flow of combat?"
"Oh right, that... so you know how we''re both Buddhist?"
"...Yeah...?"
"Okay well, there''s the three main types of Buddhism: Theravada, Mahayana, and Vajrayana (which is a subsect of Mahayana, but whatever). A long time ago, back when the country was a lot more religious, the Academy''s curriculum was also a lot closer to Shintoism and Buddhism. In turn, the Ordinance Academy cultivated the esoteric nature and tantric practices of Vajrayana Buddhism, and modified it for killing rogue sorcerers and evil spirits. Meditations and physical practices were geared towards fighting instead of spirituality. There''s still a loose sense of spirituality, sure, but it was a lot less religious in nature and more of an ''essence'' type of thing. Monks honed their bodies for hours on end. They would have their peers take turns attacking them while they meditated in complete concentration. Their minds were tuned to a higher frequency. It was inevitable that the students in schools (then monasteries), would dwindle in numbers. But those who survived would''ve been able to protect their villages far easier."
The two of them eventually walk into the building, nearing the Medic''s quarters. Naoki nods at the explanation, before asking his question.
"This sounds really useful. Why don''t more people know about it?"
"Because of its extreme nature. We already know that the Ordinance Academy is extreme as is, but our goal isn''t to kill kids, its to protect the country. It would be counterintuitive to kill the protectors for the sake of honing stronger sorcerers; especially if there''s alternate, safer ways to grant a similar level of power, even if it takes longer. You have to keep in mind that these modified Vajrayana practices are old, dating back hundreds of years. When there''s newer practices with fewer risks, you''d expect people to think they''re better. Also, there''s the stigma of it being associated with religion."
"But you just said that the practice was less religious in nature?"
"Yeah well, if someone is an atheist, I doubt they''d be pleased to practice something that is religious in its roots; modified or otherwise."
"Hmm... but if it''s so outdated, then why teach me?"
"Because Naoki, I find value in the old, just as I find value in the new. I see what works, and I teach it. It may be situational, but I believe it''s a handy tool that you can have in your arsenal. The only reason I knew you''d be able to tap into it without the risk of you dying is because you''re tough. I know you are. I wouldn''t kick your ass for the entire morning if I knew you wouldn''t be able to handle it."
Naoki looks away and blushes.
The teacher continues, "also, because we are lucky to have modern medicine on our side."
They arrive at the door of the Medical office. The teacher knocks on the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Behind the faded screen of the dimly lit medic''s office, the silhouette of a large bulky blob is seen. Upon hearing the knocks, it turns around, and shrinks in size, eventually taking the shape of a woman. The figure walks over to the door and opens it. There, stands a 5''7" tall woman with green, moss-like hair and purple tired eyes. She''s wearing a typical lab coat as well as ripped jeans and a teal collared shirt. She looks up and down at Naoki and Naota.
"..."
"Hello Miss Gretchen, we would like to get healed please," says the teacher in a polite tone.
She examines the bloody student. At a quick glance, she takes several mental notes: at least a rib or two fractured, several hematomas covering the body, muscles that have stopped working due to said hematomas, no doubt a heavy amount of blood loss, and... a rearranged face.
She then looks at Naota and his condition: a bloody nose and some minor scrapes on his arms.
"...
You, Naoki, take off your clothes and enter the pod over there," says Gretchen, pointing towards the corner of the room. An odd glowing bulbous pod sits there. It could be described as anything but metallic. Green slime oozes out of the pod''s top.
"Ugh, I hate this part..."
"It''ll only last a few minutes. Hold your breath and then come back out. There''s towels near the back after you''re done."
Naota waits patiently for his instructions.
...
"And... Do I wait or...?"
"No. No you don''t."
"...
So what treatment do I get?"
"Nothing," says Gretchen, crossing her arms while leaning back against a table.
"...
not even a band-aid?"
"Oh quit crying, you''re fine."
From the corner, Naoki pops his head out of the pod and shouts "hey Miss Gretchen, am I fine now?"
Seeing that his face is still misshapen, she walks over to the side of the pod and opens up a hatch.
"Dunk your head back in; please hold it for as long as possible, ok?"
"Fiiiiiiiiiine"
He does so.
Gretchen looks at Naota.
"...could you please turn away..."
"Oh, of course."
As Naota turns away, he could hear the unpleasant sounds of thick liquid spewing and splashing about. The rich smell of oil and mold permeates the room.
Naoki pops his torso back out of the pod, good as new; handsome as ever.
"Thanks Miss Gretchen, I actually physically feel alive now" says Naoki.
Gretchen, kneeling over, panting, responds "yeah... *huff* ... anytime kid..."
"Alright Naota, now lets get back to training!" shoots Naoki with a thumbs up.
"With an irked expression, Gretchen immediately shouts.
"...dude?"
.
.
Several hours later, Naota and Naoki are back out on the field. Naota holds a baseball bat, while an ominous intestine ring floats in front of him. Naoki, several meters away, concentrates on his teacher.
"Remember Naoki, this ring right here amplifies the speed of what I pitch by ten times. I''m not holding back so, either dodge, block (but don''t, actually), deflect, or-"
"Dude this is like your third time you''re telling me this. Just pitch the damn ball."
"I know, I''m just... you know... I can''t stress enough how much you need to concentrate on-"
"Naota."
Naoki smiles at his teacher.
"I''m fine."
"...
Hm."
Naota points at Naoki with his bat, then readies his batting position. In his left hand, he throws a baseball up high in the air. The very second it lands in front of Naota, he sends the ball flying through the ring.
Naoki concentrates on the ball beaming towards him. He readies his fist, planning to punch the ball as a means of deflection.
"(Steady...steady...steady...
...)"
"Nah."
Naoki instead ducks down, dodging the ball.
"You dodged it. Did you mean to?"
"No... I was planning on deflecting it but I already know deep down that I''m not ready for that type of speed yet."
"...but you dodged it...?"
"And that''s cool... I guess. But if I tried to deflect it, the right side of my body would''ve been obliterated at LEAST. Besides, if I can''t dodge something with so much wind up time, then I''d be the literal worst at the school ?? Also... how come the technique from earlier didn''t work? When I was seeing the flow of combat, it felt like I was in slow motion, or I was already performing actions that were three steps ahead of my brain. How come it fails now?"
"Well first off, are we fighting?"
"Not...really?"
"Well there you go. Second of all, it''s just your first day using it, calm down. Just because you used it once doesn''t mean you''re the master of it."
Miyamoto kicks the dirt and grumbles "I knew that..." under his breath.
"And finally, the most important part about the flow is that its automatic. You can''t force it. You just simply go limp, and whatever the body can react to, the body does automatically. Mixing it together with various techniques is a task that''s going to take months to master, but in due time, it will all become second hand nature. As long as you don''t depend on it too much that is. Calling it ''master'' over the flow is almost an oxymoron-"
"because the body takes control over you?"
"Exactly!"
"Damn that''s... cliche''d..."
"Tch, you watch a lot of movies then, kid."
Naoki scoffs and then ponders aloud.
"Say, Naota, why don''t you use your real ability on me?"
"HOHOHO, getting cocky are we?"
"Kinda yeah, but it just makes me wonder how far the gap between us is."
"I will say, it''s not as big as you think it is...
That being said, it''s still pretty damn big."
"Dude ??
So none of our training sessions have been with you at your fullest strength?"
"What? No. Of course not. If I trained with all of my strength you would''ve been dead. You be paste on the ground. And this isn''t me rubbing my strength in to demoralize you. I''m not like Taberu; I don''t feel anything from securing my ego or proving pointless shit to people I don''t care about. I''m just telling you the truth. Of course, I''m not babysitting you either. These past few years can attest to that."
"(Shiet, I could attest to that this morning...)" thought Naoki with an annoyed face.
"As of right now, I''m sorry, but we are nowhere near close in strength.
...but.
If the me that was 16 years old were to fight you right now... I''m not so sure if I would win."
Naoki looks up at his teacher and grins.
"Now come on, you have a ball to catch."
Naokis smirks, before having a neutral face again.
"Now... I know that; I knew all of that, frankly. But... you''ve never shown me your real strength; your real technique."
Naota does a softly chuckles.
"What do you mean? I have it right here. Are you blind?"
Naoki looks at the ground and gently smiles.
"You''re a good guy Naota, I know you are.
That''s why it''s so easy to know when you''re lying."
They both stop smiling.
.
.
.
Finally, night time at the Academy.
11 PM
Miyamoto sits on his chair, playing a fighting game. He ponders about what Naota said to him earlier that day, during dinner time.
``Naoki.`` calls out a telepathic harrowing cold voice.
"Ah shit, do I really have to do a mission now?"
"(Yeah what''s up)" responds Naoki telepathically.
``There is an urgent mission in Osaka that needs your assistance.``
"WHAT? Osaka? That''s like... not that far but still annoyingly far..."
"(Don''t they have a school or... at least a station over there at Osaka?)"
Naoki opens his bottle of soda and begins drinking it.
``They are either unavailable or are waiting on standby for a bigger threat to come by.``
"(And what''s that got to do with me?)"
``The person requesting your assistance deems you as a perfect candidate for such a weak opponent``
PPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTT-
Naoki spits soda all over his computer monitor upon hearing the news.
"Well; that''s one way to hurt my ego ??"
"(What''s the mission?)"
``They have tasked you with taking down a recently transformed evil sorcerer.
You must hunt down the cockroach by the name of Kenji Yamada.``
『Chapter 6: Obedience is a virtue』
Earlier that day.
8 PM
Naota and Naoki were having dinner at the dimly lit cafeteria; Naoki had a salad and some wagyu steak whilst Sen ate tofu and curry.
Both of them were enjoying their meals. Naoki rambled on about his steak while Sen contemplated on something else.
Naoki went on to explain what was on his mind: "*muncha muncha muncha* you know, for a meat that''s so expensive *muncha muncha muncha muncha*... it''s kinda... alright. Like, I get wagyu''s entire selling point is the fat right *sluuuuurp* and fat gives it flavor but... this feels like a brick of butter in my mouth, not gonna lie."
Sen blurted out a delayed question seconds after Naoki complained.
"Naoki... do you consider yourself a good person?"
The teenager furrowed his eyebrows in near disgust.
"...what''s with the corny question?"
"Sorry I''ve just been... thinking about things..."
"Well to answer your question: no. Absolutely not. I''m an asshole through and through, and I''m perfectly fine with that."
"...Really? Why do you think so?"
"I know so because I couldn''t care less for these civilians. We do it because its our job, not because we want to. And it''s not like we can quit because *muncha muncha*, you know."
Naota looked away and and rested his hand on his chin, pondering.
"...
So you only do the bare minimum?"
"I mean... yeah, I guess so *muncha muncha sluuuuuuuuuuuuurp*."
"...
I don''t believe you Naoki."
"You don''t have to believe me if you want, but I know me more than anyone else."
"...
Is that so?"
"*sluuurp*, yup."
"...
If that''s true then, why can''t you use magic?"
In that instant, Naoki started choking on his piece of steak, before coughing up said chunk of meat onto his platter. Afterwards, he turned to his sponsor and responded with a displeased face.
"Low blow dude."
"I''m just stating what I see."
Naota then ruffled Naoki''s hair, before continuing with his schpeal.
"Look, I know there''s better ways to teach you compared to preaching to you with a monotonous tone. I''ve tried it before and it won''t work on you. I also disapprove of forcing people to do things. It''s one thing to teach kids, but its another to force them when they''re at a (semi) mature age."
"Counterpoint," interrupted Naoki.
"I''m being genuine when I say that. It''s not just about saving people you know. I don''t care much about like, yeah its annoying, and I''ll be hunted down if I don''t do it but like... it''s whatever, you know? I think my main issue is that the more I see it, the more I realize that I shouldn''t really waste my time to help others."
"So you wouldn''t ''waste time'' helping Makoto?"
"PAH. You already know how she is. Besides, she''s the one who told me this in the first place. She said something about the lines of like... if you help.... no it was like, if you can''t help yourself...
...
wait hang on."
As Naoki was busy trying to remember the quote she said, Sen put two and two together.
"And assuming she got this perspective from Kuragari, right?"
"Uhhhhhh yyyyyyyyeeeeah. Yeah. I''m 99% sure at least."
Sen groaned aloud.
"It''s one thing to hear it from her, but it''s another if what she''s hearing is coming from him."
"Geez dude, I don''t think it''s that deep. Whatever happened to everyone has a right to have an opinion?"
"Everyone has a right to have an opinion unless they''re just objectively wrong."
Naota took a scoop of his curry while he aggressively chewed down on his tofu.
"....ehhh... right..." commented Naoki.
Silence occurred between the two for a good minute or two. In that minute of silence, Naoki finally remembered:
"Oh yeah! She said something along the lines of ''if you depend on others to help you, you won''t progress yourself; if you help others, they''ll soon begin to depend on you. And that''s annoying.''"
Sen looked up at his student with a lightened up look.
"Did she add that last part or was that you."
"Oh come on now, you know damn well she would say that."
"...would?"
"Shit."
Both of them chuckled.
"Alright well... at least that sounds a lot less sociopathic so it must''ve come from Makoto more than Kuragari. And to an extent, I understand what she''s saying, and it does hold some merit. But-"
Before Naota continued, he paused and had a blank look on his face. Seconds later, he looked at his student. He took off his sunglasses and paid attention to Naoki''s eyes. Naoki was obviously very confused on what the hell was going on with Sen. The teacher gave a warm smile, then put his sunglasses back on.
"Nevermind Naoki.
Whatever you believe in, I have faith in your judgement. That''s all I have to say."
"...
...
Dude you''re freaking me out."
.
.
.
Several hours later
Present day
11 PM
Miyamoto sits on his chair while playing a fighting game. Despite getting his ass kicked, wondering what the hell he should do during this cutscene of a combo, that simmering comment Sen made swirls in the back of Naoki''s head.
"(I hate it when he gets wishy washy and vague,)" thinks Naoki. "(What, does he think reality is a novel? Does he want me to read his mind? I mean sure, I guess I technically can do that but like... ugh.)"
"(And Makoto''s logic makes sense. Nobody helps us so we just have to depend on ourselves. Strangers don''t go around doing kind acts of charity or give money to the homeless. They know better. The na?ve are the ones that get punished. The homeless guy I just felt bad for spent the money I gave him on alcohol and drugs. The person who I gave a hundred dollars to because I felt bad for his situation disappeared from the face of the earth. The guy who I thought was my best friend asked if he could borrow my motorcycle; motherfucker ran off with it.
...I suppose these aren''t my stories...
But whenever I go out on weekends to the grocery store or to the mall, I sometimes read the minds of the people who roam there. All these strangers and their mundane lives. I thought I had it rough but seeing it through forced empathy, feeling those exact same emotions in the first person perspective is just... damn. And that''s how I know Makoto isn''t bullshitting around.
If society is crawling around with these actual occurrences, then who''s to say she''s wrong? Naota constantly preaches about helping others and how there''s no downside to it but like... there''s this quote that goes along the lines of "no kind act goes unpunished." And I hate to admit it but the more I venture out into the world, the more cruel it seems. I thought fighting spiritual manifestations of sentiments was worse... and it still is- by a fucking mile. But seeing the actual causes of these things popping up, it really makes me think. Sure, hindering the misery by preventing a spirit''s manifestation is grand and all, but we already know humans are vile. We won''t ever stop because it''s in our nature.
Shiet, if we even entertain the idea of a utopia where everyone is nice to each other and there''s no malice, one would think that there would be no spirits manifesting... until I remember, oh wait, it doesn''t matter if the emotion is positive or negative, too much of anything will manifest it. It''s just that negative ones are way more common compared to some twisted visage of love.
Ugh.
So why should I care? No matter how hard I try, the world always spits back in my face. Hell, if my life is already hard as it is, what makes people think I have enough time or care for others? It''s one thing if its a loved one, but its another if its a complete stranger...
I mean, I guess I could argue the point of preventing spirits from roaming around but even then... I''m not a savior. I''m just a kid doing what I can. But with that attitude, one might say otherwise. The more I care, the more hopeless it seems.
Then why do I even try.
...Yeah fuck it, Makoto is right... She''s smarter anyway so, I guess I''ll just follow her example.)"
``Naoki.`` calls out a harrowing, cold, telepathic voice.
With a sigh, Naoki commented to himself; "Oh come on, do I really have to do a mission now?"
"(Yeah what''s up)" responds Naoki telepathically.
``There is an urgent mission in Osaka that needs your assistance.``
"WHAT? Osaka? That''s like... not that far but still annoyingly far..."
"(Don''t they have a school or... at least a station over there at Osaka?)"
Naoki opens his bottle of soda and begins drinking it.
``They are either unavailable or are waiting on standby for a bigger threat to come by.``
"(And what''s that got to do with me?)"
``The person requesting your assistance deems you as a perfect candidate for such a weak opponent.``
PPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTT-
Naoki spits soda all over his computer monitor upon hearing the news.
"...ouch ??"
"(What''s the mission?)"
``They have tasked you with taking down a recently transformed evil sorcerer.
You must hunt down the cockroach by the name of Kenji Yamada.``
Naoki blankly stares at his soda spewed monitor. Grabbing couple of paper towels, he then telepathically communicates with the receptionist at work again.
"(So how am I going to go over there? I don''t think they''d want me to run all the way over there.)"
``You will take the campus transporter. There, you will head to the Yamagishi Apartments without being noticed. You will apprehend and kill Kenji Yamada before he does anymore damage. Dispose the body near a forest then return back to base the way you came.''''
"(Hm. Alright.
Sounds easy enough...
Say, what did this guy even do?)"
''''He caused a great disturbance to the people who witnessed him. The report states that the terrorist also caused damage of property in their escape attempt.''''
"(...That''s it? He was ugly and he caused property damage? I didn''t know being ugly could be a crime but... I guess I''m wrong. Then there''s the obvious issue of the people who saw him so... Alright. I''ll be there shortly.)"
''''In the name of the Rising Sun.''''
The telepathic line between the receptionist and Naoki ends. Naoki readies himself with his iconic black long brimmed hat, cloak, tank-top, pants, and overpriced shoes. He picks up his flute and saunters throughout the long winding halls of the academy, eventually reaching the first floor. He walks near the receptionists and glances at the person in the dark glass cage. The white garb. The veils that cover their faces. All slowly swaying side to side in an endless hypnotic pace. With a raised eyebrow, he scoffs and shakes his head.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.Near the area, Naoki opened up a couple of doors until he finally reached a dimly lit cramped room with a large sigil on the concrete floor. The walls, much like a majority of the campus, are wooden. There was a trash can in the corner of the room. Kanji and western style archaic symbols were scattered inside the circle. A wire ran on the edge of the circle, eventually leading up to the wall with buttons and lights.
| - ?
- ?
- ?
һ - ?
- ?
- ?
ɽ - ?
m - ?
- ?
u - ?
֪ - ?
¹u - ?
R - ?
All of the buttons glow with a green blinking light. Naoki coughs, waving the dust away from his face.
"(Tch,)" thought Naoki to himself.
"(I mean typically people do their job and have their own stations for that sort of stuff but, whatever I guess...)"
He presses the button labeled and held his breath. The markings on the ground glow fervently. Naoki felt his body vibrate quicker, at the same pace as the blinking symbols. A loud whirring noise clashes with the whispers of a dead language. Feeling his heart race, Naoki held on to his hat whilst gritting his teeth.
A flash of light blinks Naoki out of existence, before blinking him back into the transporter in Osaka.
"Uh oh
Uh Oh
Here it- HHHGGGKKKK"
Running over to a trash can that was thankfully in the corner of the room, Naoki vomits into it before spitting out any leftover residue.
"Ugghhh..."
Opening the door, Naoki was greeted by a soundly modern aesthetic compared to the Kyoto campus. Bright lights that actually enable a person to see where they''re going. Walls with a boring, flat white color to them. Tiles that could barely make up the drabness of the halls. Naoki squints his eyes before angling his hat downwards.
"Too bright..." he mutters.
With a loose sense of memory, Naoki navigates his way throughout the halls until he reaches some stairs and goes upwards. In a surprise, the lounge area has a comfier atmosphere, complete with lighting that doesn''t blind anyone, and walls that are decorated with a minimalistic yet appealing color to them. Sitting down on a small caf style table and chair is a black man wearing a gi. His build is bulky, but not to the point where his muscles ripped his clothes. His hair is short and aside from a goatee, nothing really stood out in terms of design. Aside from repping his favorite metal band underneath his gi, but that is barely noticeable to Naoki.
"Ah- Ernesto sensei," comments Naoki in a tone loud enough for the man to hear.
Looking to his left, Ernesto smiles and waves towards the student, taking one last sip of his tea.
"Ah...Nnnaoki, was it?"
The teacher speaks with an accent that was obviously carried over from his original tongue.
"Correct," responds Naoki.
"How have you been? It''s been a while."
"Oh the same old, same old. I think it''s been like two... three years since we had the sister school festival, right?"
"Yes; it was two years ago. I am surprised you even remember me haha."
"Oh trust me dude, not even Naota has been able to throw me that hard."
"Ah yes, Naota. How has he been?"
"Psh, you already know. Boring as usual."
"PPPFFTTT-"
Ernesto spits out a bit of his tea.
"Oh my, excuse me, you just caught me off-guard."
"Eh... yeah no, it''s fine..." says Naoki, wiping away the tea from his face.
"Say," continues Naoki, "what are you doing here anyway? Especially wearing a gi and all?"
"I''m glad you asked Naoki. One of the higher ups appointed a quick meeting with one of the sister schools. Something to do with paperwork and a possible merger. Since we''re already one of the smaller schools, on top of Osaka being one of the provinces with lesser issues, they thought it was a good idea for me to hold the fort while everyone else is gone. In all honesty I think it''s going to blow over since these types of issues tend to be a waste of time, but even as a teacher, my opinion only goes so far."
"Huh. And that''s why they sent me all the way over here?"
"Correct."
"Tch. Politics... how annoying..."
"?"
"Well anyway, I have to get going on this mission. I''ll see you when I come back."
"Don''t die."
"Tch, I wouldn''t entertain the idea."
Naoki shoots Ernesto a smirk. The teacher responds with a gentle smile and a sip.
Sprinting out the door, Naoki whips out his phone and opens the GPS app. A few seconds later, he stops on his tracks.
"...
...shit, what was the place called again?"
.
.
.
Meanwhile, at the apartments, Yamada''s apartment has several notes posted on the door. The leftovers of prior notices being ripped away. The most recent one has claw marks on it as well as a red page instead of the typical yellow or white page. Behind the door is the desolate remains of Yamada''s room. Glass still litters the room. Furniture scatters the floor in a frenzy. Claw marks on the walls and ceiling are present. The broken window lets in the harsh cold breeze. The electricity, water, and gas has been shut off for the specific room. Within days, most of what was left in the fridge was frantically eaten, with wrappers still lying on the floor. Whatever was left spoiled within hours. Every couple hours or so, the neighbors hear either a brief shriek or a ghastly whimper.
In the corner of its bedroom, a nearly two-meter tall cockroach with barely any features resembling a human trembles. No matter the amount of blankets that wrap him, he still endlessly shivers. One hand over his mouth, the other grasping his head, the teary eyed creature restlessly whimpers. It studies the remains of the life before him. And even then, no matter how much it cries, and no matter how hard it wants to wake up, its feeble wishes won''t change anything.
.
.
.
A twenty year old figure walks up the stairs of the apartments. Grumbling, they navigate towards the room that the office complained to them about.
**Knock knock knock knock knock knock**
...
No response.
**KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK**
"Fuckin hell..." grunts the figure.
"Yamada Kenji, I know you''re in there. This is the Police Department of Osaka. You are under arrest for not complying with the eviction notice sent by Yamagishi Apartments. You''ve had several days to comply with the order, and due to your refusal, here we are. I hate to do this but if you want to do this through brute force, you leave me no choice."
...
No response.
"God damn...
I''m always stuck with the annoying jobs...
Yamada, this is your final warning. Please comply before we escalate the situation."
...
"Tsk."
The Police Officer pops open the holster of his revolver.
ch-k
The door handle jiggles.
"Tch. About time."
...
The door handle stops and a voice is heard from behind the door.
"Uh- H-hello officer, how can I help you?"
"Well you can help the both of us if you can come out of there with your arms above your head."
"...
With all due respect, I''m afraid I can''t do that officer."
The officer lets out a brief chuckle.
"Oh? We''re doing this now? Huh. Ok. I''ll humor you for a sec: what is your excuse?"
"Well you see officer, I''m facing a bit of a difficulty with my body. I suffered a deformation recently, and I hope there would be a simpler way to go about these things..."
The officer''s eye twitches.
"What... so you need a wheelchair or..?"
"Not- not really, it''s just that I would prefer not to be seen in such a way... I can''t really go out like this... isn''t there a way I can make it up to the company? Pay a fine or such?"
The officer shakes his head with an irked smile.
"Oh my fuckin..." he says under his breath. "Listen here. The owners of Yamagishi Apartments have given you several notices, and since you refused to comply, we''re far past negotiating, do you understand that? Besides, paying me would put you for even longer in jail under charges of bribery. Social anxiety sucks but, you''re just gonna have to suck it up. I''m sorry to say, but you''re coming with me one way or another."
...
...
...
"...
Yamada?
Are you there?"
...
...
...
The frustrated face of the officer shifts into one of stern determination. He slowly reaches for the handle of his gun.
"Yamada, I''m warning you, if you don''t open the door by the count of three, I''m going to have to enter through force. I don''t want to do this so please, don''t force me to."
...
...
"One..."
...
...
"Two."
His hand slithers the gun out of its holster.
...
...
"Thr-"
The handle jingles one last time, before slowly creaking open. Barely visible, the silhouette of a towering cockroach head peeks behind the door slit. The large eyes making the visage of a large pupil stare down at the officer. A large antenna is the only thing that pokes out of the shadows.
The officer, unsure of what to do stands there. His shaky aim attempts to concentrate on the creature''s head. His brain signals to scream, and punch, and flail, and kick, and dodge, and shout, and shoot, and sprint and just try to signal the body, yet to no avail. They both stand there staring at each other for what feels like five minutes.
"...
I tried shooting myself already," says Yamada, breaking the silence.
"It won''t work."
The pale officer stammers for a few seconds, before failing, giving up, tilting his cap downwards, and walking back towards the stairs in a stiff manner.
Five minutes pass. Yamada''s door closes, while the officer sits on the stairs with a petrified look. He stares at the ground.
"What...
What the f....
What....
...."
He retches to himself before stopping.
"I...I...
...
I need to find a new job... No... I-I... I need to forget about... This didn''t happen this...
This can''t be happening...."
"You''re right.
It''s not."
Looking up, the officer sees a pilgrim looking dork with a shit eating grin on his face.
"...?
Can I help you-"
"Nah. I got it."
Naoki whips out his flute and plays three notes from it. A brief melody. Lavender fragrance. Peaceful times. Spaghetti dinner with mother. Cheerful cries.
The officer falls fast asleep.
"You''d weigh me down anyway.
Now... down that hall huh?
Walking casually by, he walks up to Yamada''s door.
Dead silent. Even for a sorcerer, much less a human, that''s pretty hard to pull off.
"Brief in and out mission right? Easy.
..."
"(Tch. I don''t think I''ll even need psychopower for this one)" thought Naoki to himself, smirking.
Using his brute strength, he breaks the lock of the door simply by turning the handle. Creaking the door open, Naoki analyses the room.
Pitch black. The only sense of light in the entire room was the light from the hallway, and the moonlight coming from the broken window. Naoki closes the door behind him and takes a couple steps in. Stepping on some glass and wrappers, he makes a face of disgust.
"Ugh, you live like this?" he comments aloud.
"(Now that I think about it, this might be how Naota sees my room...)"
"...
I asked you a question," continues Naoki.
"I know you''re in here so you might as well show yourself."
...
...
...
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
A large bulbous silhouette stands inches before the light could reach him.
"Who... who are you? Why are you invading my apartment?" says a shaky voice.
"Tch, your apartment?"
Sizing up his opponent, Naoki analyses the figure''s spiritual pressure. Seeing as how he emits the same type of "aura" as a normal person, this guy for sure is doing it intentionally to blend in crowds.
"P-P-Please. Leave. I don''t want any trouble."
"Too late asshole. People have seen you use your ability, and you''ve damaged private property. If you''re going to use your powers to hurt others, you''ve should''ve thought about the consequences. Say your prayers-"
"No- NO, I DON''T WANT TO DIE," shrieks the large figure.
"NOT LIKE THIS
NOT LIKE THIS PLEASE!"
Naoki shoots a confused look.
"(What the...? No... This guy is trying to trip me up. I won''t fall for something so stupid.)"
He shakes his head and hardens his muscles.
"COME HERE," shouts Naoki.
"Please don''t hurt me!"
Out from the shadows, a nearly two meter tall cockroach frantically screams and runs towards Naoki with its four arms reaching out.
"WHAT THE FUCK HE''S AN ACTUAL COCKROACH?"
In an automatic response, Naoki instinctively shoots forward and dodges the cockroach''s grasp, launching his own meaty punch towards the creature''s abdomen. A satisfying crunch emits aloud as the strike lands on the insect''s stomach.
"Hhoouuugghhh-"
Yamada''s eyes bug out as the fist clashes against his abdomen. He then gets on his knees and holds his stomach while he vomits out a liter of saliva.
"(His skin is tough but... what visceral reaction...)" thought Naoki to himself.
"(Also I knew the receptionists referred to him as a cockroach but I thought they said it in like a demeaning way not like... an actual cockroach.)"
"Ggrrrr.....GYAH!"
In frustration, Yamada uses his lowered position to his advantage, and bursts forward in desperate attempt to ram into Naoki.
"COCKROACH DAAASH!"
Seeing the attempt a mile away, Naoki sidesteps the insect. Yamada rams straight into his kitchen, breaking his sink.
While the insect holds his head and tries to regain his composure, Naoki stands there, staring at the puzzle piece in front of him.
"(This guy... his speed isn''t bad but... he''s so obvious. I know I''m good but this is just ??. Also, if he''s lowering his presence so that he isn''t noticed by civilians... why did he transform himself into a cockroach in the first place? Is he stupid? Did he mean to transform himself into a literal tiny cockroach but tried to gain the upsides of being... huge?)"
"...
Dude what are you?"
Yamada, wobbling back and forth tries to focus on the teenager in front of him.
"I... I didn''t want any of this...
But you leave me no choice but to defend myself. HYYAAAAAHHHHH."
The cockroach sprints forward, flailing all of his arms in a brutish display of violence. With his steel-like fists, the insect in a blind fury valiantly strikes, pummels, and hammers away at the intruder.
With a confused look, Naoki nonchalantly parries all of the strikes for twelve seconds straight.
"GGGGGGGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"??"
The student couldn''t help but think to himself.
"(What the hell... this guy is a threat? To fucking WHAT? I know I fight more spirits than rogue sorcerers but... there''s no way they''re THIS weak? This guy''s punches.... he doesn''t turn, they''re really weak, his durability is tough but that means jack shit when the force behind it is equivalent to a toddler''s, all of the strikes are boring, slow, sloppy, and just a disrespect to anyone who knows how to fight- much less, knows how to throw a punch.
...
Why am I here?)"
For a split second, Naoki lets his guard down.
"I got you now!"
For the first time this entire fight, Yamada lands a punch directly on the teenager''s cheek.
Naoki''s head doesn''t budge an inch. The teenager simply stares at the cretin.
"...What the hell was that?" Asks Naoki.
"...h-huh?"
"No seriously what was that? You''re kidding with me right? Hit me again."
Doing a baseball wind up, Yamada cocks his arm back to gain "maximum potential", and attempts to clock Naoki''s cheek again.
Upon impact, an audible crack was heard.
"AH-HA-HA-HAAAOOOWWWWWwwwwwwwwww...."
The insect holds his hand while groveling on his knees.
Staring in disbelief, Naoki thinks to himself.
"(He...
He broke his wrist punching me.)"
"...Stand up for a sec," commands Naoki.
"Wha? Uh? Ok...?"
"Cool, thanks."
Within a split second, Naoki performs a spinning back kick and clocks Yamada in the brain. Continuing as a blur, Naoki swiftly punches Yamada in the stomach before the beast could even fall on the ground. The former business man gets launched across the apartment, landing in the remains of his room. Slumped on the wall, his executioner walks towards Yamada.
The teenager furrows his brow and wears a concentrated stare. He looks at his unconscious opponent, twitching in defeat.
"There is nothing to be done...
There''s nothing I can do...
I am a soldier through and through...
I am no hero...
I am no saint..."
He grits his teeth.
"Mercy is not a virtue. It encourages weakness.
Pity is not a virtue. it encourages weakness.
There is no such thing as good... so I do...
So I do what I..."
With a heavy hand, he raises his fist.
"I....
I...."
『Chapter 7: Pity』
"SO YOU BROUGHT HIM HERE?" Naota says, sternly looking at Naoki who was sitting down in his chair.
The both of them were in Naoki''s room. Naoki, sitting down while resting his hand on his cheek looks down at the floor in contemplation. Naota recently entered the room, out of breath, and with a wrinkled expression.
"What the hell were you thinking Naoki? Don''t you know what''s going to happen to you?"
Naoki, silent for a couple of seconds, readjusts himself. Hugging his legs, he rests his chin between his knees, staring at Naota, eventually responding with a mutter.
"All I know is that I''m arrested in my dorm room. I don''t know what I did wrong, or that something so insignificant would be so serious..."
"That''s your main problem Naoki, you don''t know what you do, and you inevitably fall into this shit. Why don''t you ever think for once? God man..."
Naoki tilts his head down and hides his face between his legs.
"You understand how fucked this is, right?" Continues Naota.
"Best case scenario, you get punished with a slap on the wrist, maybe a mundane arrest, and that''s that. Either that, or in worse scenarios, you''re arrested and put into slave labor along with other rogue sorcerers, you''ll be executed, or in the absolute worst case, you get turned into one of those things-"
Naota looks up.
"What things?"
Naota, pausing, eventually responds.
"That... doesn''t matter right now. What matters is what we can do right now. I hate hampering on you, but you and I already know that complaining about problems doesn''t fix anything."
"Then why do it in the first place-"
"Because you need to learn one way or another god damn it."
"I already know how I fucked up, I don''t need another reminder to shove it in my face."
"Well if you already knew then why would you do something so stupid!?"
Naoki wrinkles his face, barely containing his composure. It was apparent that his breathing got heavy. Naota on the other hand, palms his face while dragging his face down. He tiredly lets out a heavy sigh. A silent exchange between the two of them occurs, before Naota continues.
"Look. I care about you. I know I''m harsh, and I hate doing this but please man. I''ll hear you out. Just tell me what you were thinking."
The kid hides his face while rubbing it against his legs. He eventually looks up at Sen with his watery eyes.
"Yesterday, you told me that you trusted my judgement no matter what..."
With a lump in his throat, Naota Sen stares at the student.
"Go on," says the teacher.
Naoki breaths in and out before starting his story.
The student explained everything; no minute detail was spared. He told him how each and every action was done. How he noticed the lack of a magical presence in the first place. How he followed the protocol of making every person not affected by magic fall asleep, to noticing the flaws in his target''s demeanor. The target didn''t pounce on him when he opened the door; the target didnt even know how to use ki, magic, or psychopower, much less fight in general. The odd demeanor of a so-called rogue sorcerer who screams like a girl when threatened by someone two/thirds his size. Despite having the easiest fight he would ever have in his career as a sorcerer, Naoki still decided to read the targets mind just to see what was going on. He read everything; it confirmed his suspicions: this guy was no sorcerer. He was no self-righteous freak or bloodthirsty terrorist. He was a lowly salaryman with a pathetic personality that just happened to pray one night and ended up as this. Sure the freak-out at the office wasnt an innocent act, but with the circumstances at the moment, it''s far from malicious. This guy wasnt special; he just happened to have the worst luck imaginable.
"...
I know we talked about it yesterday, with what Makoto said," continues Naoki.
"I know I shouldn''t help others, and pity weighs people down, since depending on others is a death sentence but... being raised by someone with a heart has its ups and downs."
Naota''s throat becomes dry.
Naoki continues.
"To finish it off, I just couldn''t help but at least do something about this guy. Hell, wouldn''t it suck if you were in his position? Wouldn''t you try to fight back and hold on to whatever you had left before it inevitably gets ripped away from you? I know this guy messed up by breaking a window and accidentally causing harm to the officer, but the bullet bounced off of his god damn head and into the officer. I don''t see how that''s malicious against another person in any sort of nature. They were accidents. Yes, its unfortunate that it happened, and something should be done but... god man.
Damn me for having a heart I guess."
Naoki slouches while exhaling a heavy sigh.
"In conclusion, I picked him up, went out the window, and ran as fast as I could towards the Osaka campus. I eventually got there, told a brief summary of what happened to Ernesto, and he understood. The cockroach and I teleported here, and I dragged his body with the intent of going towards Ms. Gretchen''s office. But all of a sudden, Mr. Mishima just HAD to be there in the lounge area. I told him what was going on, he told me go to my dorm and now... I''m just here wondering what the hell is happening. It''s been an hour, but the moment I saw Mishima, I could tell things were about to go downhill."
Silence between the two.
Eventually, Naota sighs, finishing up his thoughts.
"Alright.
I appreciate what you did Naoki. It was very thoughtful, and to an extent, you''re right. The man is innocent. It''s very noble of you to stick your neck out for strangers, especially when you can tell they''re not evil. That being said, there''s no simple way to say it: you''re fucked. You will get punished one way or another, but that depends on what you want to do now.
You can either drop this whole case, apologize to the higher ups, and then the cockroach will be sentenced for execution, and things will go back to normal.
Or
you can continue to risk your life to save this guy by filing an appeal to court, where it will take several days, have the staff of the school involved, the cockroach and you are going to be interviewed, scanned, read, put under a contract where lying will have you die on the spot for as long as the case is active, and then... who knows from there.
What do you want to do."
"...
Tch.
Isn''t it obvious?
I''ve already risked my life saving this guy. What use is the effort if I''m not going to commit to it?"
The edge of Naota''s lips curl slightly upwards.
"Alright.
Let''s do some lawyer work then."
.
.
.
A couple hours later, in a cold, damp and pitch black prison cell made out of moldy wood and cobblestone, Yamada wakes up. The pungent stench of moss and fungi immediately strike his antennas. The floor is cold and hard. There was no bench or makeshift bed. Only stones, fruiting bodies, corroded wood, a metallic substance that seemed impenetrable, and an odd aura that makes Yamada nauseous and weak. He looks at the cell door. Despite being a cockroach, he could barely see the wall at the opposite end of him. He tries squeezing his head to see what was on the left and right sides of the hall, yet to no avail. Laying on the cold hard floor, Yamada waits for something to happen.
"Where am I? What''s happening? What am I doing here? What happened to me? Is anybody near me? Is there a way to get out? I hate cold spaces. I hate cramped spaces. The stench is unbearable! I hate this. I hate this! What if no one will ever come to rescue me? What if I never get to see the light of day? I''m starving. Should I eat the moss here? Or any insect that I come across. Oh god... that''s so gross. I just... I just..."
With a pulsating migraine, the defeated insect lies there wondering with a single phrase repeating in his mind.
What did I do?
With nothing to tell time with, seconds feels like minutes, and hours felt like days. The only things he could do are: wait, sleep, bang his head on the floor, and repeat.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Hearing something other than the sound of his own breathing for once, Yamada perks up and frantically pushes himself up to the cell door.
"HELP! HELP PLEASE!"
Eventually, the steps grew closer. With a torch in hand, the silhouette looks up, tiling their hat and showing their face.
It''s Naoki with a stern expression.
"Hey. It''s me again. We need to talk."
Unsure if whether or not to scream, kneel, or stay silent, Yamada stands still. An audibly hiss is let out, most likely out of accidental instinct.
"My name is Naoki. You''re in a temporary jail cell. You''re name is... Yamada, correct?"
"H-How do you know my name?"
"I read your mind. Seeing as how all of this is happening, I don''t think that''s too surprising to you at this point, is it?"
Yamada breathes heavily, backing away and leaning against the wall of his cell.
"...No... It''s just... It''s all too much. I can barely comprehend what''s going on anymore..."
"Look, calm down. I''m not here to hurt you anymore. But, we''re both in a tight situation. Before I begin however, I want to ask you something first before we even waste time. Let me make this perfectly clear: everyone in the outside world thinks you''re dead. Your apartment has been seized, your assets have gone to the bank, all of your belongings are most likely in the trash, and you have practically nothing of value anymore."
Waiting for wailing to ensue, or a screech, or anything really, Naoki prepares himself.
"...?
You''re quiet."
Silently sobbing, Yamada''s barely visible face stares back at Naoki blankly.
"I...I don''t know how to react. I don''t think I can process all of my life being destroyed in the span of less than a week. I don''t know-"
Choking up on his words, Yamada gags and retches into the corner of his cell.
"I don''t...
I just don''t know...
What do you want from me?"
Naoki looks down.
"I took pity on you. I know I probably shouldn''t have done so. I wanted to save your life. I know it sounds stupid. Me, risking my own life to save a stranger I was sent out to kill, not knowing of who he was or why he should even be allowed to live. I knew you damaged property, and I should''ve just done the job, just so that it would spare both of our suffering. Look at us now...
I wanted to save your life because I could sense you were innocent. Not a good person mind you, but definitely far from malicious. I read your mind and even when you had the perfect opportunity to abuse power and wreak havoc against your co-workers- you didn''t.
...
I saw you try to kill yourself, just to get rid of this nightmare, only to hurt someone else. I know you didn''t mean to, but shit happens. I understand that, but the system doesn''t. You fought back against me, but only out of self defense. I want to make things right. Go ahead and call me a kid. Go ahead and berate me for taking pity on a stranger. Forsake me for having a heart, right? I know the world sucks, and I know the world is plagued by a never ending cycle of misery. But I care. I care god damn it."
Naoki''s voice begins to quiver. He grits his teeth as he speaks.
"I was na?ve once. The world is against all of us; and I was correct. The systems that try to govern life can only help so much, and often end up helping those in power more than the common people. Those who strive towards helping others get punished more than those who live selfishly. But with what little right I can do in this world, I want to save it for those who deserve it. For as calloused and pointless our existence is, and no matter how much the innocent have to suffer, only for the vile to reap the rewards, I don''t think there''s anything wrong in trying to do the right thing. I don''t care how many times I mess up, or how many times the odds are against me. I still try..."
Naoki pauses before his voice cracks at the end of his sentiment.
"because somebody has to."
Naoki looks away and wipes his eyes.
Silence.
Yamada, with a croaking voice leans as close as possible to the edge of the cell door. His fingers grip on to the bars as tight as he could. Despite his face being difficult to make an expression, his sentiment was loud and clear.
"Fuck.
You."
Silence occurs once more.
The both of them stare at each other. One frustrated; the other jaded.
"You expect me to take your pity? After you ruined what little I had? Do you think I appreciate being in a cell? Starving for who knows how long? Do you think I like getting hurt? No god damn it! I didn''t do anything, and now you''re preaching to me about how you''re so sorry, expecting me to accept it? Get over yourself. Thinking you''re so high and mighty, expecting me to bow down to your mercy. Grugh, you''re... you''re so!"
Yamada punches the wall repeatedly in a blind fury. No matter how hard he punches the wall, the scenario was still the same. He was stuck in his cell, unknowing of what''s about to happen to him, blaming it all on a kid.
The both of them tired, Naoki props up after Yamada''s tantrum.
"I never expected you to forgive me. Even though I wasn''t the one responsible for the way you are right now, I don''t blame you."
Naoki pauses before continuing.
"So back when I met you, would you rather I have killed you?"
Yamada, gasping while sitting down shoots out a groaning "yes."
"I see. Then why did you try defend yourself?"
"Are you stupid? I wasn''t expecting this to happen. If I knew my life was going to be over, I would have just lied on the floor and willingly taken the bullet to the head. Anyone would''ve tried to defend themselves at that moment, it was instinct."
"I see. Then why did you try to kill yourself days prior? You eventually went back to your apartment, and stood there for a while. Why clutch on to life if its so miserable?"
"I tried to kill myself and I failed. Obviously after the incident at my job was over, I feared death. The only place comfortable was my house and... I don''t know what I would have done. My plan was to stay there for as long as I can and... see what goes from there."
Naoki stands up.
"I thought so."
Yamada, tired and confused, looks up.
"What?"
"I didn''t come here to berate you, or dump my life''s story on to you, Yamada. I came here to give you an offer.
Either you can make this easy for the both of us, and you can accept an execution.
Or, we can go appeal a trial for this very unusual circumstance, and we can make a special case for you. The logistics of that are unknown to me. What I do know however, is that you will become free from this cell, we''ll come up with a sound resolution for you and hopefully, in the future we can figure out what happened to you, and fix you up.
So tell me, Yamada. Are you going to rot in prison and wait for death? Or are you going to accept this opportunity towards a new life?"
Yamada stood silent.
Why go for it. Why even bother trying again? Everything he ever cared for was lost. Everything he ever knew just got swept under a rug. Everyone that knew him thought he was a monster, and now thinks he''s dead. All the years of stress, from school, work, personal issues, family issues, all of that effort just to make money: all gone. Life had beat him up for 30 years straight, and all the rewards he could''ve reaped were all wasted. Typical. Measly. Yamada the fool; Yamada the clown. As worthless as a god damned insect. There was no reason for him to live.
Realistically, the only thing he knew that tied him down was the fear of death. One which he could only throw away when he was at his breaking point. Now, there is no breaking point anymore. All that he cared for as already gone. So what now? He was forced into a corner. A damp, cramped, uncomfortable smelly corner in a dingy basement with the most miserable brain fog that trampled in comparison to measly 16 hour long migraines from work. What to do. What to do.
On one hand, he could die, and all the suffering would end. Give up, and accept defeat. He''ll finally be able to rest.
On the other, he could try a brand new life. A fresh restart, with new people, new customs, new opportunities, new abilities and perhaps, even a way to revert back from this wretched form. It was a scary concept. He hated change. But being unchanging in his ways is what reaped him a miserable life in the first place.
Besides, he knew this kid meant no harm. It was a matter of circumstance. Deep down, even Yamada knew his burst of anger was a misplaced moment of projection. The kid was right. Shit happens. It''s not necessarily his own or the kid''s fault. So what can a person do? Yamada complained and cried all about it in his apartment and at the jail cell.
And what changed?
Nothing.
Though he was hesitant, and though it took 28 minutes to finally give an answer to Naoki, who sits patiently, Yamada finally took his first step in correcting his unfulfilled life''s prime mistake.
"But..." starts Yamada. "What do I do with my new life? What''s the point if I''ve already lost everything?"
"That''s up to you and what you make of this opportunity. Things will never be the same, which is the worst part out of all of this. And living just for the sake of fearing death isn''t a very fulfilling life. But you really have to look into yourself and decide what you want to do with this second opportunity. I don''t expect you to have an answer yet, especially with everything being thrown at you all at once. But, there will be a day when your reason for living will come to you. It''s like how none of us asked to be born, and yet here we are. We didn''t know what we''d be doing with our lives, but eventually down the line, our reason for living finds us one way or another. But that''s just how I look at it. I can suggest things all I want, but it won''t make a difference. At the end of the day, it''s your life and your choice."
"...Nothing will be the same..."
Yamada mumbles to himself for a couple minutes before he finally expresses his words to Naoki.
"You say nothing will be the same...
and as much as I want to go back
I can''t.
And more importantly, I wonder something.
I wonder if this all happened because I was the way I am; if all of this could have been avoided if I wasn''t so miserable.
Or if it really isn''t that deep and I''m just that unlucky."
Yamada does his best to huddle his legs to his chest as a means of hugging them.
Naoki awkwardly leans on the wall, unsure of what to say. There''s only so many "shit happens" he can say before he too loses hope.
In the minutes of contemplation however, Yamada realizes something very simple.
When there''s nothing left to lose, and rock bottom has already been reached, naturally, there''s only one direction to move.
Yamada stops hugging his knees, and slowly crawls up to the bars, grasping onto them while looking Naoki straight in the eye with a sullen tone.
"I''ll take your offer, and go for a trial."
Naoki gently smiles.
"I can''t promise anything, Yamada. However, we''ll try our hardest, that''s for damn sure."
Naoki turns around and walks back towards the way he came. Yamada, goes back on the ground and shivers. Despite the darkness that surrounded them, they felt at ease.
.
.
"(Thank you.)"
.
.
.
Days pass. Naoki explains what happened to all of the staff, and all the students close to him. Though a majority of them were on his side, and no hard feelings were felt between Naoki and an individual, differences couldn''t be more clearer.
While Naoki and those who supported him looked up special cases similar to this, Mishima on the other hand had several files ready, as well as the hands of several people within his clique attending this case. Mishima was only an ambassador between the Ordinance Academy as a government body, and the rest of the Japanese government. However, seeing as how he stuck close with people from the conservative faction of the government, they supported him with whatever he needed. Not to mention, the Principal of the Kyoto campus was Hanayama Ozeki, a staunch and loud opposer against other campuses who were aligned with the conservative faction. Due to this case being a case that only affected his school, typically this was none of anyone''s concerns. But because Mishima involved himself with the case, and in turn involved several other people into play, this ensued a tug of war between how the trial should be played out, who should attend, who can attend, and whatnot.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
While Yamada ate spoiled rice and any scant insects that happened to crawl by near there, Naoki and his team argued and read. While the conservative judges were rehearsing their verdicts, Mishima stared at his flag.
Eventually, the day came.
.
.
.
"ALL RISE FOR THE SPECIAL COURT."
A large court room with three grand seats in the middle. Old men, most likely in their 70s wearing their judge uniforms, looking down upon everybody else. To the right of the audience were seats meant for the defendants; leaning more to the middle, were the "attorneys." Due to the circumstances of the trial, the "attorneys" would act more like witnesses, and pass on reasonings on their opinion towards what should happen against the defendants. To the left of the middle was the plaintiff and prosecutor: Mishima sitting alone with his desk. In attendance, there were several people from the conservative faction who were sitting in the background. The only people who came to support Naoki and his efforts were Makoto, Akemi, and Ernesto.
The staff of the Kyoto academy all stand up; Hanayama, Naota, Gretchen, Django, and Kyouji. Naota looks around in a confused manner. Kyouji notices and whispers, "what''s wrong?"
"Where''s Kuragari?"
"...I don''t think he''s going to attend."
Naota makes a wry face, containing his composure.
"Jackass..."
Everyone is wearing suits.
"We shall commence this courtroom hearing by listening to the verdict decreed by the attorneys. We shall listen to their reasonings one by one, and then proceed towards the prosecutor''s side," announces the judge in the middle.
"First up, Hanayama Ozeki. Please state your reasonings."
Naoki and Yamada are sitting down, staring at their judgement in front of them. Yamada trembles; Naoki blankly stares. The teenager puts his hand on the roach''s shoulder and says, "calm down. Save that for the worst part."
Hanayama stands up and walks over to the podium in front of the judges. Despite being over one hundred years old, he looks to be in a better condition compared to the other 70 year olds in the room. People in the audience stare at him with ire and contempt. Jealousy fills the air. And Ozeki knew this. For as many people hated his brash demeanor, they also knew to respect it. Hell, a main part of where the ire came from was due to how untouchable the geezer was.
? - Principal of the Kyoto Campus, Hanayama Ozeki
"I''ll make this quick. As we all know about the case, what the kid did here was stupid, plain and simple. He tried to act all hero-like, and he got himself in a deep mess. Whatever, it happens. I understand that the main issue at hand is by definition, Naoki Miyamoto disobeying orders, and rescuing the cockroach. Now, though one may argue he was arresting the sorcerer, or that they are both innocent and accidentally caused damage when they didn''t mean to- I don''t care. That''s not what I''m arguing."
The principal grips the sides of the podium. Indents start to form on the wooden stand from the sheer grip strength of the old man.
"I have lived for a long time. I have seen every flavor of man possible. I have fought alongside the most noble of men, while dealing with the most delusional of pests. And I can assure you," he says, while pointing towards Yamada.
"this is the most pathetic man I have ever had the displeasure of meeting."
Yamada hunches over and whispers to Naoki.
"I don''t think I appreciate this defense..."
Hanayama continues.
"All of these people ran several tests on the two. They studied, questioned, argued, several days for the both of them. I was barely involved because the very moment I saw this man, I saw everything I needed to know. This salaryman has never been in a fight. He''s never willingly hurt anybody out of malicious intent. He''s so caught up by his work that he doesn''t even indulge in vices. There is no way in hell, this inconspicuous loser knows how to use any sense of sorcery. And finally, I can assure everyone in this courtroom, that a fly or a mosquito would pose more of a threat than that man sitting over there. How he ended up like this, I don''t know. And I don''t care. People get cursed. It''s just that we happened to make a big deal out of this one."
Murmurs arise from the audience. Confusion and disbelief. A majority of the older members stare at Hanayama. The other staff members'' reactions range from quiet peace to a loud anxiety.
The judges whisper to each other for a moment before asking Hanayama.
"So what''s your verdict?"
"I vote the defendants Yamada Kenji and Miyamoto Naoki, not guilty."
"Understood," says the judge in the middle. He proceeds to bang his gavel.
"NEXT."
Hanayama turns around and walks towards the stand where the rest of the staff are sitting down. He looks at all the people in the conservative faction glare at him; he contests their inferior stares with his own piercing gaze. Those who met his eyes immediately look downwards after a second. He scoffs.
"Tch."
He sits down, immediately resting his arms above the backrest while looking up the at the ceiling. Naota leans in and whispers to the principal, "as much as we appreciate your support being here, it really doesn''t look like you care about this cas-"
"I don''t."
Confused, Naota looks at him before he begs the question: "then why did you attend?"
Squinting his eyes, the principal glares at the ceiling. "You know why."
"Proceed to the podium," commanded one of the judges.
? - Teacher at the Kyoto Campus, Naota Sen
Standing tall and firm, the teacher looks up at the judges. Feeling the disgusted gazes of the old men in the room, he ignores them.
"Your honors, I would like to first and foremost make one thing straight. I completely agree that what the actions that these two made was a mistake on their part. However, from the assessment and reports we''ve gathered, it is very fair to assume that on an ethical level, it is only right to release these two due on the account that one of them is a child and should be tried separately if need be, and the other has been cursed without his volition.
The crimes that the defendant, Kenji Yamada has performed were all done out of a mental breakdown. He didn''t mean to scare his co-workers, it was simply a natural response to his transformed state. He did not intentionally harm the officer on duty that was at his office. Upon seeing the memories of the individual, it is clear that he intended to commit suicide on the spot with the officer''s firearm however, due to his physiology, the bullet bounced back and happened to harm the officer. The defendant then fled the scene as a result of the pressure. And though he left a mess in his apartment, and refused to move out, by no means does that justify the death penalty.
Judging from several cases in the past, due to the exception clause stating that any and all civilians involved in the world of sorcery should be tried separately in a worst scenario, and at best should have their memories wiped. It is important to mention that due to Yamada''s state at the moment, it is hard to classify him as a typical civilian. Despite that, in nature of everything excluding his body, he is by all intents and purpose, a civilian. I understand that it is the Ordinance project''s sole responsibility to hide away all instances of sorcery and whatnot, but due to the overwhelming amount of evidence that suggests the defendant''s innocence, much less lack of evidence to suggest he knows how to use any form of sorcery, I believe that it is only just to pass a pardon, and find a different solution to the parties involved.
As for the other defendant, Naoki Miyamoto, I understand that the student disobeyed orders. However, due to the unusual circumstances and the overwhelming amount of signs to suggest that Yamada was no typical sorcerer, Naoki paused his mission and took Yamada in for questioning. It is reasonable to understand that this could all have been avoided in the first place if he listened to his task. I know; I take full responsibility for that. But I want to make it clear that I agree with his assertion, and I sense no feelings of malice coming from Yamada. Take it from Naoki, a student has been taking missions for at least four years. He has completed his tasks successfully this entire time, so to assume he would disobey missions without a clear reason would be disingenuous."
One of the judges, tentatively listens to Naota''s arguments; the other judges, bored at Naota''s reasonings, respond.
"We appreciate your efforts for your reasonings, but leave personal involvements out of the equation. What is your verdict."
"I believe that the defendants Yamada Kenji and Miyamoto Naoki to be not guilty."
One of the judges rolls his eyes. He slams his gavel.
"NEXT. PROCEED TO THE PODIUM."
Naoki sighs with a sense of relief. Yamada looks stunned, almost convinced that Naota''s testimony alone would singlehandedly solve the case. Almost.
As Naota comes towards the seats, he and Django trade spots. With a confident stride, the American smirks and walks up to the podium. The crowd does not share his sentiment.
? - Dean of the Kyoto Campus, Leonard Django
"Good morning your honors. I would like to set this down quickly and easily. I will make it perfectly clear, that I believe that both of these defendants are high in character and values. Not a single thing about them strikes me as malevolent or such. I like them, truly. However, I cannot state this enough: what they did was irresponsible. A pardon may be suggested, but someone needs to pay the price. Argue all you want in their favor, that doesn''t stop several civilians being hurt because of their actions. Thankfully nobody died in this case, but the evidence is loud and clear. It was on the local news and from there, it''ll spread like wildfire. The chances of it spreading throughout the country is scant, but that''s still a risk that we have to consider-"
"Please get on with your verdict."
"Uhh... I mean I was getting to that, but the way I see it, I wouldn''t say they are innocent per se-"
BANG.
The gavel slams down.
Yamada looks at Django, wide-eyed. Naoki with a glassy look stares at the scene, frozen in time. Django looks up.
"...what?" says the witness.
Naota facepalms. Kyouji grabs his face in frustration.
"You said you didn''t see the defendants as innocent."
"You didn''t let me finish, I was about to say they weren''t guilty either. I was going to explain how I think they should be punished, but I don''t think what they did warrants a death sente-"
"Your job is only to choose a verdict. Leave the sentencing to us. Go sit down."
Django''s stomach forms a knot. His confident optimism: gone. Disheartened, he looks at Naoki and Yamada. "But-"
"Go sit down Mr. Django."
He walks back to his seat. He stares at the ground with his closed lips still twitching. Naota begrudgingly scoots right next to him.
"I know you were only trying your best to care. I know you didn''t mean to."
"NEXT PERSON, PROCEED TO THE PODIUM."
? - Head of medical department in the Kyoto Campus, Gretchen Gaburgably
"Good morning your honors. I am Gretchen Gaburgably, head of the medical department in the Kyoto Campus. I will keep it brief by going over the tests we ran on Mr. Yamada. Through the tests we ran, we can confirm that Yamada was cursed without his volition. There is no possible way that he would be able to lie in these situations for two primary reasons. The first is that if he lied in any of the questions we gave him, he would have died on the spot due to the contract we placed upon him. Secondly, we confirmed that his soul and mind are that of a human''s. The body is excluded of course, since it was forcefully manipulated. Since his mind and spirit are that of a human''s there''s no possible way he would be able to manifest psychopower or magic. And though his body was converted, other tests confirmed that his strength was that of a human''s, if not- below average."
A couple of people in the crowd scoff. Yamada looks down at the ground while gripping his hands tightly. Naoki looks at him and whispers, "it''s not that deep. Plus, you not knowing how to throw a punch helps us in this case." Yamada adjusts his mandibles. "Alright..."
"As for the other defendant Naoki, we ran less extensive tests since he''s already a student. We applied the same contract we placed on Yamada and due to him being alive at the moment, it''s clear that he''s honest. As for his involvement in the situation, I have no comment. As stated before, I will only pass my verdict through the tests we ran through them.
I believe the defendants Miyamoto Naoki, and Kenji Yamada, not guilty."
The three judges look at the woman silently before one of them bashes their gavel.
"WILL THE FINAL ATTORNEY COME UP TO THE PODIUM."
Gretchen trades spots with Kyouji. Naota prompts a fist pump and a quiet congratulation. "No, time to get excited," comments Gretchen. "Mishima still hasn''t gone up yet."
? - Head of the technology department in the Kyoto Campus, Kyouji Nakugima
"Your honors, I would like to affirm that I hold a similar position as Ms. Gretchen in this case. I ran several of the scans in this case and can confirm much of the same things as Ms. Gretchen.
..."
For what felt like a minute, Kyouji stood silent.
The judges, staff team, and those in the crowd look at him silently in confusion. Mishima glares. The defendants worry.
"Is that all...?"
"No. I can''t comment any more on Yamada, especially without repeating what''s already been affirmed of his character. However, I will say this about Naoki. What he did was stupid, there''s no question about it. However, on an ethical level, what he did was more responsible than what the mission entailed him to do. I understand that he was supposed to go after Yamada, who was labeled as a rogue sorcerer. But without intervening and denying the mission, the academy would have killed an innocent person for no good reason. Naoki did not harm any civilian, and the only person who managed to see him was put to sleep. He also made everybody in the building sleep so as to not cause a disturbance. Everything he did up to that point was a textbook example of what a sorcerer should do. I don''t see any logical reasoning for why the two of them should be tried with such harsh punishments. The main issue that the spiritual branch as a whole faces is the civilian society catching wind of these events. I understand that since Yamada has already been seen, the people affected will have their minds wiped, if they haven''t already been wiped. But if that was already going to happen, why would we kill the man if we already know he''s incapable of intentionally harming anyone with magic, much less anyone in general. With all these reasonings, I conclude that Kenji Yamada and Miyamoto Naoki are in fact, not guilty."
Kyouji finally looks up at the judges. The judges look displeased; he glares back at them.
"Take your seat, Nakugima."
Kyouji quietly stomps towards where the staff are sitting. The audience of old men grimace at him. Despite not looking at them, he unintentionally does the same, holding that same expression, looking forward. He finally sits down, silent. Naota quietly leans in. "As much as I appreciate what you did, I think you hurt us more than helped."
"I just realized that now," responds Kyouji. "But I just don''t understand; it''s so stupid."
Through pursed lips, Naota finally responds. "It''s just how it is."
"Would the prosecutor please go up to the podium."
Mishima stands up in robotic fashion. He walks over to the podium with a bored expression. Those tired, grey eyes stare blankly in front of him; the look on his face annoys Hanayama. Those in the audience are silent, looking up at him with silent determination. Two of the judges give him a satisfied smile; the other confused at his peer''s reactions.
? - Ambassador of the Ordinance Academy Project from the Japanese Government, Yoshida Mishima
"Your honors, as you know, Kenji Yamada had been marked as a rogue sorcerer in the first place for a reason. On the morning of the case, he caused property damage, including leaving a reckless state of the establishment''s property, as well as leaving a window broken. All while in this current state no less. If he is as so innocent as the attorneys say, then I find it hard to believe that someone who poses less of a threat ''than a fly or a mosquito'' would cause this degree of damage in the first place. Mayhaps he was having a bad morning, no one can say for sure."
Yamada''s eyes twitch. Naoki and Naota purse their lips. Kyouji grits his teeth.
"I understand mistakes can happen, and the manager would agree as well. If Yamada were to notify the manager of the accident in the first place, he would be granted a pass as long as he paid for the damage. Lo and behold, that never occurred for some reason."
A judge holds his palm out while asking a question; the other two judges shoot an annoyed glance at him.
"Pause for a moment, do you have proof that the witness would say such a thing in the first place?"
"I do, your honor. I believe you would understand that I cannot permit the witness into these premises. I introduced myself as an official member of the government and just wanted to ask her a couple of questions before I could reimburse her and her efforts for tax purposes. Though I myself am not responsible for the filing process, I am responsible for keeping the front between both societies from meeting, and as part of my responsibility, I believe you would agree that I keep that from happening no matter the means necessary. For this case in specific, I relay the work of the National Tax Agency of Japan as a sort of extension, while I get the proper information for this case at the same time."
"I see," says the judge; "please continue."
"Thank your honor. Later, the defendant goes to work knowing full well of his unusual condition, willingly implying he knew the dangers that he could possess in his state."
Yamada''s mandibles jitter; saliva begins to froth. "Calm down," says Naoki. "You''ll only make it worse if you make a scene."
Through raspy breathing, Yamada retorts, "but it''s just not fair."
"...I know."
"Eventually, the danger did come to fruition. Before the local agents in Osaka came in and wiped the memories of the victims, they analyzed the scene and downloaded the memories of all the victims. The reports state that Yamada, in his crazed state revealed his true from and spread mass hysteria among the victims. Though he unintentionally harmed an officer in an act of suicide, his form denied the chance of self harm, and the bullet bounced off of his cheek, harming the officer. Intentional or not, the damage had been done. Through the evidence alone, he poses as a threat to regular society. And with these new found powers, who knows what he would have done next. That is why Naoki was assigned on the job to execute the order. It is the job of the student or an agent to complete a mission no matter the means necessary. Unless stated in the mission, there is no reason for an agent or student to take measures by their own hands unless in extreme circumstances. Seeing as how Yamada wasn''t harming anybody at the time, this cannot and should not be reasoned as an ''extreme circumstance.''"
"But he doesn''t know anything sorcery; how the hell should he be tried as a rogue sorcerer, especially with him getting this form without asking for it?" blurts Kyouji aloud, standing tall and firm, staring into the prosecutor''s eyes. Kenji''s eyes glimmered from the light, mandibles agape. Naoki, looks stunned. Hanayama smiles. Django quietly grins. Gretchen expresses a silent grimace, shaking her head while Naota on the other hand closes his eyes and whispers something under his breath: "shit."
"Sit down, Nakugima." hisses one of the judges. "Continue, Mr. Mishima."
"...Yes, that is a good question, Mr. Nakugima," responds Mishima. "I can only say this: it doesn''t matter if he in actuality is a rogue sorcerer or not. The evidence speaks louder than the defendant''s words. And due to the unusual circumstance, whether he actually knows sorcery or not is irrelevant. The bizarre state of his being is enough to classify him as a ''rogue sorcerer'', whether he''s knowledgeable about this world or not. On top of that, anyone who is not aligned with the Sorcery Union of Japan, or other similar parties while using any sort of sorcery are enough to be trialed as a ''rogue sorcerer.'' It''s just the way it is, and that is that."
Kyouij''s vein on his forehead makes itself apparent. He quietly sits down as he mutters his comment through gritted teeth. "I see."
Naota looks at Kyouji.
"No matter how much it pains you, you shouldn''t have done that."
Kyouji closes his lips, looks down, and with a shaky voice, responds. "...I know."
"All that being said, I want to conclude on this note," says Mishima. "I don''t doubt that Mr. Yamada may have been an upstanding responsible worker growing up. From what I''ve heard, he sounds like a reasonable person, and a hard worker. However, he just did not have the proper mindset for the situation, and his fragile mind affected others, whether he wanted to or not. It is a shame that things had to be like this, but as a responsible member of this society, I find it only necessary for Kenji Yamada to face punishment. Clearly, in this state he poses too much of a threat to himself, and for civilians as a whole. As for Naoki, I can see where he''s coming from. He wanted to play hero and tried helping someone who didn''t need it. But his naivety poses as much of a danger to the world if he lets someone of Yamada''s caliber as an ''innocent person.'' But he''s just a child. He doesn''t know better. I don''t believe he deserves death, but I do believe that he needs to be corrected. Surely, someone''s irresponsible nature has guided him to act in an impudent way to begin with. However, it is not my place to judge; that is for the three of you to decide.
I rest my case."
"Well said Mr. Mishima. Take a seat."
Those in the audience applause. Kyouji''s eye twitches, gripping his legs to a near degree of bleeding. Naota looks forward, bracing for the verdict. Hanayama stares at his opponents with an annoyed look. Django leans forward, holding his hand over his mouth. Gretchen closes her eyes, bracing for the moment. Yamada''s heart sinks.
And Naoki looks blankly forward, staring death in the face. Despite the judges calling for order in the court, the gall of those older than him to clap at something like this rings rampantly in his ears. He stares in the distance. His eyes begin to water. All of this effort. All of this time. Despite the truth being ever present, those who speak in technicalities, whose language is upheld by favors and bias. His mind squelches at the realization. Staring, once more into the vision he tried to deny, only for the cruelty to punch him in his face over and over again. He sits, down with a blank face, mouth hanging open.
"By my power, I, Judge Nakayama find the defendants, Miyamoto Naoki, and Yamada Kenji, guilty."
"By my power, I, Judge Goto find the defendants, Miyamoto Naoki, and Yamada Kenji, not guilty."
"By my power, I, Judge Hano find the defendants, Miyamoto Naoki, and Yamada Kenji, gui-"
Mishima, glares at the judge.
The judge stops midsentence. He turns to one of his peers and whispers something. The judge in the middle, confused, looks back at the both of them. The audience murmurs. The attorneys look at each other, confused. Yamada looks relieved. Naoki on the other hand, was too exhausted to care anymore.
After two minutes of discussing, the judges turn back to their mics. Mishima looks back to his typical, tired self.
"Due to an impasse between the three of us, we shall settle for an agreement, with the conditions set by the prosecutor. Mr. Mishima," says one of the judges, turning towards him. "Who do you choose to reason with?"
"I choose Ms. Gaburgably, and Mr. Nakugima."
Both of the staff members look at each other with a confused look on their face.
"The two of you will go back to the conference room with Mr. Mishima. There, the final sentence will be agreed upon. Once you propose it back to us, the condition will be set."
Kyouji, Gretchen, and Mishima walk into the conference room. The audience, staff team, and defendants all stare at the door of the room. The tense air rubs off of everyone. Just as everyone feels ill-willed against the opposition, at least one thing was mutually agreed upon: they don''t know what''s going on. Despite rooting for Mishima, this unexpected turn of events soured the audience''s mood. Those on the Kyoto staff team on the other hand only held worry in their hearts. Yamada, feeling his brain pulse from the roller coaster of today, grasps onto his head. Naoki on the other hand, limply sits on his seat, expecting the worst.
After seven minutes, the doors open. Mishima, with a bored expression, hands the judges the conditions. Gretchen looks speechless, while Nakugima looks confused.
All three of the judges pass the paper to each other, nodding at its circumstances. Content, the judge in the middle announces.
"We the judges permit to the conditions agreed upon. We find the defendants not guilty under the precedence that Yamada Kenji gets trained as a sorcerer within the Kyoto campus, while Naoki Miyamoto gets punished with reception duty for four days a week until further notice. This court is dismissed."
The judge bangs his gavel.
Everyone looks at the person sitting next to them. Confused murmurs arise from the audience. Too exhausted to cheer, the Kyoto staff team (excluding Hanayama) all rise up, smiling, wiping their brows. Yamada, containing his excitement, shakes Naoki. "Hah- Hahahah! Does that mean what I think it means? I- we- we''re alive???"
Naoki tiredly responds, "for now."
The two of them exit out of their area and walk towards the team.
"Four days a week of reception duty is going to be rough but... it''s livable. Honestly man I''m just... I would like to scream and shout and be excited but... something doesn''t feel right. I''m glad to be alive though, and I''m glad you get to survive. These are going to be some pretty interesting weeks, I know that for sure but for now I just want to..."
Naoki limply falls down, before being grabbed by someone. He looks up.
It''s Makoto.
"You''re in deep shit, you know that?"
Naoki, tiredly smiles. "I was. Now, I''m just in regular shit."
She rolls her eyes and couldn''t help but give a small smile. "Yeah well, at least you''re alive, and that''s all that matters."
The Kyoto staff team surround the defendants in quiet, relieved attitudes.
Yamada proceeds to perform dogeza.
"I want to thank all of you for your efforts. I''m glad you all went out of your ways to go this far. Even though we don''t know each other so well, I can''t help but feel eternally grateful."
Django chuckles. "I bet you wouldn''t be doing all this if we failed you, so no need to mention it."
"Well it''s not even that, it''s just..."
Yamada''s voice begins to quiver.
"After all what''s happened, it feels refreshing to finally feel like someone believes me."
Naoki hugged both Naota and Kyouji. Though since he was too tired to stand up, he unintentionally dragged both of their necks down with his weight.
"Settle down kid. We appreciate it, but we''re just as tired as you are," comments Naota.
"Thank you guys, truly. By the way Kyouji, that was a really smart proposition. I don''t know how you came up with it, or how you convinced that rat to agree to the terms, but I''m glad you did."
Kyouji, still looking confused this entire time, sternly looks at Naoki in the eyes.
"Naoki.
I didn''t come up with the proposition."
『Chapter 8: Are you paying attention?』
"OK
SO-
NOW DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW THIS ALL WORKS?" says Makoto, pointing at a chalk board full of scribbles and pie charts. Naoki stands alongside her, dragging his face down in annoyance. Akemi sits on a stool by the side, patient as ever. In front of them is Yamada, awkwardly sitting down (or the closest thing to sitting down) on a cramped desk.
"I uh... I hate to be annoying but, could you repeat that one more time? Just a bit slower, please?"
Makoto angrily sighs.
"ONE MORE TIME. FROM THE TOP.
Despite modern belief, sorcery is real. It is manifested in humans through three different ways: spirituality/sorcery, ki, and psychopower. Also keep a mental note that even though we say ''sorcery'' or ''magic'', depending on the context, it can either refer to the main power type itself, or just referring to all three of them at the same time. A little annoying but, its easier to refer to them all as a whole compared to going ''psychopower, ki, and sorcery'' every time we want to refer to all three of them. Cool? Cool."
Naoki continues where Makoto left off, as she begins to scribble on the board.
"Humans are able to use these types of magic, but at a ridiculously low amount. I''m talking a hundredth of our power. Don''t take that literally, I''m just putting into perspective how weak they are without knowing how to use these powers. Everyday, whether it be working out, studying, or doing something they''re passionate about, they are unknowingly using these powers. However, a key component to ''waking up'' a person''s power is needed to happen before they can even use any of these powers, that being-"
"TRAUMA!" blurts out Makoto with a smile.
"...
I mean, I was going to say it but, screw me I guess ??"
Makoto shoots a cheeky smile at Naoki. He looks discheesed.
"I don''t even know why I''m here if you''re going to do my job for me," he complains.
"Oh stop crying its not that deep."
"NONONO- ITS FINE! TRUST. I don''t need to be here; I''ll just pick up my shit and leave."
Makoto starts to look annoyed.
"Okay we get it, I''ll let you continue ??"
"LET ME? OH THATS CRAZY- but, fine, whatever. Anyway, yeah, a severe amount of trauma. Whether it be something as instant as experiencing a car crash firsthand, or having your mind slowly edge towards its limit, this is the main component to unlocking power. And hell, some people are just born unlucky and are able to manifest their powers without a trigger, but this is rare and doesn''t really dictate potential or anything. Even though having these abilities sounds cool and whatever, there''s a major side effect to this: you start seeing the manifestations of humanity''s extreme thoughts and emotions come into the world. Let''s take for example, a shell-shocked soldier. He''s not the same anymore, and he never will be. No matter the amount of therapy he goes through, he''s going to carry the burden of what he saw. Now imagine all of that, but on top of it, he can permanently see the misery of the world manifest into spirits. There''s no way to turn this off. That sucks but, he''s unknowingly tapped into a realm of ''truth'' so to speak."
Makoto continues where Naoki left off.
"I know that sounds like flowery language but he''s right. These spirits are more often than not, the collection of ideas, concepts, and emotions that plague the world: literally. That''s not to say that the world is all bad; that''d be silly... but, I will say that for every one spirit that embodies a positive emotion or idea, there''s 10,000 more that reflect the wretched thoughts of everyday life."
Yamada''s mandibles tighten, as if pursing his lips.
"That''s... bad... right?"
Naoki shoves his face into Yamada''s personal space and makes a wide eyed goofy expression.
"Uh- YEAH."
Yamada leans his head slightly back.
"...Alright...
...
...do you mind some space please?"
As Naoki moves backwards, Makoto continues the lecture.
"Yeah, that''s bad obviously. But that''s why we, the Ordinance Academy, and several other government programs from around the world exist. We know these things are real, and cause physical harm to the world. It''s our job to police our country and either exterminate or arrest these spirits before they cause even more trouble. And I believe its important to tell you now than to leave you hanging, there''s effectively no solution to fix this. Humans'' perception of reality, whether it be through emotions, collective, or whatnot, alter the world; the more extreme the sentiment is, the stronger it becomes. If a collective of people believe in one concept, it spawns. Take for instance, the overwhelming negative sentiment of lying. The amount of humans in an area that have a distaste for lying will spawn a ''lying spirit'', so to speak. That''s not to say that a concept as old as civilization is strong or is even that old. Spirits fizzle out when we kill them, and they are temporarily down for some time before the cycle restarts, and a new ''lying spirit'' with a new face, power, whatever, comes into existence again. And again, its not just negative things. Once in a blue moon, there''s a genuinely kind spirit that just happens to be the embodiment of something that seems vile to us. On the contrary, even a supposed positive spirit like ''love'' can end up being a massive freak. So, unless the spirit seriously means no harm, we either kill them, or arrest them if they seem useful."
Yamada raises his hand while asking a question.
"So, sorry if this seems ridiculous but, something as popular as say... baseball, would that be a strong spirit?"
Naoki, Akemi, and Makoto all look at each other with a sullen stare, before turning to Yamada and giving a collective "yes."
Yamada stifles a snicker.
"Paha... I''m sorry but that just seems like a silly picture in my head! What, was it some giant demon holding a baseball bat-"
Instantaneously, the next thing Yamada saw was his own neck getting pressed by Akemi''s forearm. The kind, humble student glared at Yamada''s face with veiny eyes. Gritting his teeth, Akemi hissed. "People died you motherfucker."
"Akemi," says Naoki with a stern tone.
"He didn''t mean it."
Makoto closes her eyes as she crosses her arms, puffing air out of her nose. "You''re forgetting that he''s not a sorcerer. It was a coincidental comment, not an insult."
Akemi''s eyes slowly morph back to normal. He stops grimacing, softening up, almost as if being unaware of what he was doing. He slowly let go while commenting, "...y-yeah you''re... you''re right." He then bows. "Sorry for assaulting you sir."
Barely surviving a heart attack, a long awkward pause between the four of them was held, before Yamada held a thumbs up with one of his hands while the rest of his arms stuck on to the wall behind him. A faint "?-?? ???????" was let out.
Makoto finally opens her eyes, before concentrating on Yamada.
"...
were those pellets underneath you always there, or is that what I think it-"
"AHAHHA- ANYWAY, LET''S CONTINUE WITH THE LECTURE," cut Yamada off.
Going back to where they were standing, Naoki takes the reigns.
"Now, I know we''ve been talking a lot about spirits and such, but there''s classifications to these things. Not all of them are even remotely the same. So going from weakest to strongest, here''s each ''species'' of spirits:
The weakest ones are called Remnant Psyches. They''re just ghosts. They are dead humans who have died recently, and meander around. There are three common types of Remnant Psyches:
A. Ghosts who are still waiting to be guided by angels to the afterlife.
B. Ghosts who are just chilling, simply choosing to delay their path to the afterlife, and are still on earth either to reminisce in the old days, or simply mess around with humans for fun.
or
C. Remnant Psyches who still had unresolved issues before they died, making them all pissy. This is how remnant psyches ''haunt'' items or even worse, evolve into a spirit.
They are all relatively weak but some students have chosen not to kill them-"
"Even though you should," interupts Akemi.
"...Yeah," continues Naoki. "We should but, they''re not really a threat. I get the logic is to dissuade them from evolving into spirits in the worst case scenario, but I''m going to be so real with you, most of them are just waiting. I don''t think there''s anything wrong with befriending someone who''s dead. It''s an interesting perspective."
Yamada raises his hand and asks another question:
"But wouldn''t killing a Remnant Psyche delay them from going to the afterlife?"
"Yes," answers Makoto.
They all awkwardly stare at each other. Yamada looks at the ground.
"I know what you''re thinking," continues Makoto, "but we''re just doing our job. There''s a reason people like Naoki and I don''t do it, but why Akemi does it."
"...I see...
...
Do we go to the afterlife?"
Another pause.
Akemi finally answers:
"We don''t know."
Naoki then claps his hands then focuses back on the board.
"But- we''re just gonna have to find out when we get there.
Anyway, up next on the list are Spirits.
Spirits can either be:
A. A really pissed off remnant psyche that condensed all of their issues into themselves to the point that it alters their composition, thus altering their form into something stronger.
B. A bunch of remnant psyches that managed to merge together to form a giant ball of misery.
Or C. much like what we were talking about before, this is where the manifestations of human thoughts begin to spawn in. Typically, they spawn in a local area, so there could be multiple ''versions'' of say, a mosquito spirit. There could be one in Kyoto, one in Tokyo, one in Miyagi, etc. But, rarely, if a large enough area fears or reveres the same idea, there''s a chance that a stronger version of that idea spawns, but we''ll get to that in a sec.
For now, Spirits are just the beginning of when they actually become threats. Not too big of an issue as long as they don''t kill too many people, but its best to exterminate them before they begin causing severe damage.
Greater Spirits (creative name, I know), are when things start becoming serious. Going back to what I was just talking about, these are ideas that happen to spawn when a large area thinks of a specific concept in a short amount of time. Let''s say... a terrorist attack happens and it hits national news. That would be the perfect catalyst to spawn in a ''terrorist spirit'' so to speak. Or like earlier, you mentioned the idea of a baseball spirit. That exact thing happened. It was the finale to the Japan cup and with the entire country rabid and excited over the sport, they inevitably spawned in a deadly spirit simply due to the extreme amount of high emotions. It is possible to take one of these down by yourself, but you''re almost guaranteed to miss a limb. Or four. That''s why its best to team up with someone else to take these down.
Up next are Demons.
Unlike spirits, these creatures are not from this world. They are not petty humans who are still mad over something that happened years ago, or the amalgamations of humanities fervent thoughts. These are honest to god creatures of pure evil who come to earth just to mess around. These are thankfully, extremely rare to come across, but they are exponentially stronger than a mere greater spirit. And the worst part is, unlike the other spirits, these are the only creatures who have a physical body. This means that humans can see an honest to god demon in broad daylight, and thus awaken their ability to use magic. That''s a huge problem for us, and I''ll explain why in the end. But to end this note, even though demons are physically present, you can not kill them permanently. They will respawn back in hell (or wherever they came from), rest, and then be totally fine. That''s why its important to kill demons with sorcery to extinguish their soul. But seeing as how they''re higher spiritual beings, its going to be really hard.
Next up, we have straight up Gods. They''re a lot closer to spirits, in the sense that they are typically born from a plethora of people believing in them. Praising said god; fearing said god. These creatures are on par with demons, if stronger depending on how many people believe in them. Due to the modern age, the era of gods has been over for thousands of years. Not to mention, those gods of olden eras would be way weaker now due to the amount of people that believe in those dead religions are few and far between. I don''t doubt that there''s some obscure cultish god meandering somewhere around the world, but since no country has disappeared off of the face of the planet without reason, I think we''re fine. Finally, the academy does have a vault with a few gods and spirits contained within them but, they''re most certainly in a weakened state. And even then, a weakened god would still be enough to level a country.
Finally, the last races are Angels. I hate to be blunt but, we have no idea what they are. The only things that we know are: they guide ghosts to the afterlife, and that they left a warning. "Do not bring anyone back to life." It is said that if humanity were to ever reincarnate someone with a complete body, mind, and spirit, the angels will conduct an extinction event. I don''t know what any of that is all about, but as long as we''re alive, I don''t care.
I will leave a final note: there is a reason we wipe the memories of humans in the local vicinity that we just conducted a mission on. First and foremost, if they awaken their powers, that''s going to cause a problem. Even if they are the kindest law-abiding Japanese citizen, without a control of their powers, that will cause harm. And when several of humans are in that scenario, that spreads chaos quickly. Not to mention, since they still don''t know how to control their powers, their ideas are still able to manifest and fuel the rate at which spirits are born. And when a whole country is panicking, then these spirits spawn like maggots. We blame all these large scale freak accidents as ''metoers'' or ''earthquakes.'' The Ordinance Academy, along with the permission of the government, manages the information of media and news coverage just to calm citizens down. Sure, later the down the line we might have to fight a ''meteor'' or ''earthquake'' spirit, but you must remember this: humans are fickle and fragile. Explaining to them that an earthquake just struck the city is a lot more logical, and saner, than saying a hundred foot tall spirit stomped on cars and wacked a skyscraper with a baseball bat for fun. It''s only necessary.
So. Do you have any questions?"
Yamada, slowly looks up. He opens his mouth and says, "I think I get the basic gist of how this world works now but... do you mind doing one big favor for me?"
"What is it?" Asks Makoto.
"Do you mind explaining from the remnant psyches section all the way back to where you just ended off?"
Makoto shoved her fist through the wall.
"Actually, I think I got it all, nevermind."
"GREAT." responds Makoto, holding an irked smile through gritting teeth.
Naoki takes a sip of water while Makoto continues the lecture.
"Now that the boring stuff is out of the way, we can finally focus on to move on to the most important aspect when it comes to these powers: ACTUALLY USING IT!
There are three main types of power: Psychopower, Ki, and Sorcery (/magic).
These three correlate to the concepts of the mind, body, and spirit respectively. They are in essence, what type of person you are, and the unique abilities are who you are as a person. Let''s start off with Ki.
Ki is all about the material world. In its most basic aspect, it applies to the body. The main thing we own in life is our own body. Some people just don''t care for thinking endlessly for hours on end; some people don''t care about spirituality or ''who they are as a person.'' Some people just want to grill, and see whether or not they can make the best possible medium-well steak. Some people only care about making money, one way or another. And some people just want to work out for the hell of it. This doesn''t mean that using ki makes you dumb or what not. If anything, it makes you ''understand'' the world because you appreciate what''s in front of you, and you''re in tune with matter. Being in tune with the world makes you reach the true essence of the physical world, so much to the point where it bypasses the realm of matter, and is able to reach the spiritual realm, as well as a mental plane. Fancy wording aside, it basically just means that you become so in tune with the physical world to the point where you can affect spirits and combat against magic and mental powers just by punching. By amplifying your ki, your body becomes a pillar of might. Your mere flicks become as strong as a professional boxer''s strongest punch. You''re able to react to bullet fire and at a certain level, punch back projectiles. Your body becomes as strong as steel, and the world slowly feels like it becomes more and more like its made out of paper. The more a person specializes in ki, the stronger the body gets, reaching ridiculous limits. At a certain point, it stops being ''punching hard to turn their body into paste'' and becomes ''punching hard to the point where reality bends around my fist.'' A bit of hyperbole, but I believe you get the basic gist.
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Next up is Psychopower. Psychopower is all about the mind. The emotional, the logical, the creative, and to a certain extent, the ideological. It doesn''t just pertain to basic concepts such as ''being smart.'' All that matters is that a sorcerer''s mind has been altered to the point where they can affect things with their mind now; in basic terms: psionics. If you''re the type of person that doesn''t really care for the material world, much less yourself, and you find yourself endlessly wondering about several topics everyday, then chances are you lean more towards psychopower. Seeing as how transforming into a sorcerer has permanently shaped your mind, this now means that your body, spirit, and mind can tap into the spiritual realm in the first place. And with that, if you train your mind hard enough, it can affect yourself and others as well. Instead of going down the route of punching the soul out of people, psychopower affects the minds of spirits and people alike. From flinging objects at your opponent, to flinging your opponent towards objects, the world becomes a plaything of the mind. Do not think that psychopower is only telekinesis however. If your ki isn''t strong enough to dent a spirit, don''t worry, for malforming an opponent''s mind with illusions, debuffs, or even something specific like lowering their intelligence the longer the fight lasts, are just one of many flavors to take down an opponent with psychopower. Not to mention, there are several other situational yet handy applications like telepathy, for communications or teleportation, for traveling. At a certain level, psychopower breaches the mental plane and small scale physical world, and affects things at a much grander scale. Do not underestimate the power of the mind.
Last but not least, is Sorcery. Magic is all about one''s self. The ethos of the soul, so to speak. A selfish person, or a person who knows who they are deep down are the ones who are easily able to use magic. Magic is fueled by the soul, and a soul is who a person is; basic stuff. Despite it being labeled as ''the spiritual plane'', the souls of spirits aren''t so different from the souls of humans. It is after all, a visage of who they truly are. Magic is easily the most varied form, seeing as how there''s a plethora of niche techniques to them. Despite the quantity though, I say that with an asterisk because yes, there are several techniques that can be taught to people, but much like psychopower and ki, there are unique techniques that cannot be taught, and are only garnered by specific people. Those specific abilities pertain to those people because those techniques are a manifestation of their soul; who they are. Nobody can train themselves to ''be'' another person no matter how obsessive they are. An extreme few amount of people can have that specific ability though, out of sheer coincidence. I''m talking about how a person across the world can have the same ability; they don''t know who the other person is, and may be different in every shape and form except in personality, but its possible, albeit, extremely improbable. Seeing as how sorcerers are already rare in the world, having a person that has the same exact personality is an astronomically low chance. Magic comes in all shapes and sizes. Magic that isn''t unique are easy to learn, but are rarely as strong compared to unique techniques, unless a person relentlessly trains in that aspect. Take for example, something as basic as a fireball. A fireball the size of volley ball is going to hurt, no doubt. But over the years, since I''ve been studying physics and the intricacies of wind, ice, and other elements, I can unleash devastating attacks compared to some rinky dinky dollar-store fireball."
Yamada raises his hand.
"Yes, what''s your question," asks Makoto.
"Do you have a unique ability?"
An audible "HHGGGKK" escapes Makoto''s lips. Naoki looks amused from her reaction. With an irked smile, and a twitching eye, Makoto responds through gritting teeth, "No. Although I''m a magic specialist, I don''t have one yet. Not to mention, I''m only 17 years old. I may know who I am as a person, but I still have time to develop."
Yamada looks blankly. "...Magic... specialist?"
"I''ll explain in a second. For now, just remember that magic comes from the soul, and there''s various ways to express it. I know I mentioned elements earlier, but to be frank, those are only tip of the iceberg. Something as boring as ''fire'' or ''ice'' can never contain the vast individuality humans have. You can train to summon a tamed spirit, or learn basic forms of teleportation, constructs, traps, portals, manipulation, buffs, debuffs, conjuration, etc. And those are all things you can learn from a textbook. Now, I know that seems like a lot, especially since they all have their own flavors but, first of all, even in the most basic of magic, these will still take years to get down, and second of all, since these are all common types of magic, they''re... not that strong. Abilities that are unique to a person will always be stronger compared to something you learned from a scroll. For example, there''s going to be a transfer student from Pakistan coming soon. From what I read on the report, she has the ability to inject the poliovirus into a person, and it only takes minutes for a person to succumb to the effects."
Akemi perks his head up with a raised eyebrow.
"How the hell do you know that? Aren''t the teachers the only ones to know that?"
"Kuragari showed me. Knowing who he is, do really expect him to care about standards?"
"That''s-
actually
yeah, that checks out."
Mesmerized, Yamada sits there with an absent expression.
"Are you keeping up, Yamada," asks Naoki. "This is going to be on the test you know."
"THERE''S GOING TO BE A TEST?"
"Oh yeah, he''s awake."
"Yes; excuse me if I look like I''m not paying attention, its just... hard to process someone with an ability like that. Not hard to accept mind you, because, look at me. After what I experienced, everything seems kinda like ''yeah, alright; that exists I guess.'' What''s really tripping me up is how they''re able to do it."
"Good question," Chimes Makoto. "Ki, Psychopower, and Magic can all be taught through various ways. From reading ancient texts, scrolls, and being taught in-person, to using various means of funneling that power outwards with the help of wands, spellbooks, and other weapons or tools imbued with power. Keep in mind though, these appliances simply serve as training wheels. For example, the last time I used my spellbook was like... in second grade ??. So for the first few months here, you''ll most likely be stuck with the equipment we give to elementary students."
Naoki audibly snickers. Makoto shoots a glance back at him. "Say, Naoki, when''s the last time you used your spellbook."
Naoki immediately stops laughing. "Low blow dude."
"Speaking of perfect transition, Naoki can''t use magic."
"??"
"That''s because not all sorcerers can use all three of the ability types. No matter how hard they try, a person can''t force themselves to change their personality; they simply develop over time. For explanation''s sake, I''ll draw it as this pie chart."
"They''re cut into three segments, representing how skilled they are at in said segments. We define a sorcerer as either ''all-rounders'', ''half-and-half'', or ''specialists.'' Let''s start off with the easiest one to explain, all-rounders."
"As the name implies, they are sorcerers who are skilled enough to use all three types of power. More often than not they compile abilities to cover up weaknesses yet have a solid enough skillset; sort of like a jack of all trades, master of none type of deal. Even the oldest of all-rounders can never beat a specialist or even a half and half user in their type. Though, being able to use all three types even in their most basic forms is a big upside on its own. One could even use it as a strength as a sort of rock-paper-scissor response to situations."
"Half-and-half users are those who can use two types of power, and have an equal skill between the two. Compared to an all-rounder, they limit their options for the sake of fewer, yet more solid techniques."
"Last but not least, are specialists. The inverse of an all-rounder, they sacrifice the strength of the other two types to maximize their potential in a specific type. They break the boundaries of what people think is possible for their type, at the cost of vulnerability and options.
Despite what I said about specialists, and how appealing ''breaking the boundaries'' sounds, do not think that specialists are the strongest solely because they put all their eggs in one basket. Let''s say there''s a rogue sorcerer who''s a ki specialist, and he''s really strong. The rogue sorcerer can destroy an island with one punch, sure, but that''s going to mean jack shit if they''re trapped in a spell, and a psychic ability that reduces their iq to 4 in a span of minutes makes them forget how to breath. It''s not always ''specialists beat all-rounders'' or ''half-and-half sorcerers beat all-rounders.'' It''s all dependent on the skillset that a sorcerer uses, the techniques they have, and how they play their cards.
Even though the academy teaches every student the basics of every type in the beginning, once they start to resemble a semblance with a type or types, most students stop becoming all-rounders. Just because I sort of remember how to use telepathy from a long time ago, and how to empower my durability so that I don''t die whenever a sorcerer punches me, does that make me an all-rounder? No. I''m a magic specialist. Even if you know how to do one or two techniques from another branch, it doesn''t automatically mark you as a separate specialists. It''s all about how you spread out your skills and how... skilled you are in that type- yeah you get the gist.
Last but not least, is why these matter. In simple terms, it''s to classify a person. I''m a magic specialist; even though I read tons of books and I constantly study the laws of physics and how to manipulate it to my will, that doesn''t mark me as psychopower user because, I''m not reading for the sake of learning. I''m reading to get stronger. If it doesn''t help me then... yeah I don''t give a shit about it ??. Naoki over here is a half-and-half ki and psychopower user. Despite how stupid he is-"
"Dude."
"-he''s able to use psychopower. That''s mainly because Naoki is naturally, a very creative person. Even though he''s a Buddhist, you''d expect him to use magic because of his religion but, no. He loves to work out and he loves to play on his computer all day... despite materialism being a thing they preach against."
"I''m still just a kid," explains Naoki. "If it was that easy to attain enlightenment, then everybody would just whip out a Wikipedia article about Buddhism and transcend right then and there."
"...right. My main point, Yamada, is like I stated way earlier. You can''t force yourself to become a certain type or another; it all depends on who you are. You might never be able to use one type or another, and that''s perfectly normal. We just have to use the cards we''re dealt. And don''t forget that it''s deeper than some plastic label. Just because you like working out doesn''t mean that makes you a ki specialist by default. Just because you got a high score in a college test doesn''t mean you''re able to use psychopower. Just because you are religious doesn''t mean you are a magic specialist right then and there. It all depends on your intent.
Last but not least about the specialists bit, is that its handy to classify your opponents. I''m a magic specialist, Akemi is an all-rounder, and Naoki is a uses half ki and half psychopower. So someone like Naoki would be an easy match up for me to beat because I can counter his ki, and I''ll just simply... dodge his psychic attacks. But we already knew that so we can go over the next topic."
Naoki looks at Makoto with an irked stare.
"Hey," he states with a serious voice. "You wanna test that right now?"
"Nah. I know I''d win."
"Is that so?"
Naoki''s cape flares up as he clenches his flute.
"Let''s take this outside," he states through gritted teeth.
"Psh. Desperate to prove something?" mockingly rebuts Makoto, as she faces towards him with a cocky stare. "We can do it right here, right now."
"Don''t need to tell me twice-"
"Guys." shouts Akemi.
The both of them give him an annoyed look, shouting "what," back at him.
He nods towards Yamada, who was bracing himself with his arms in front of his face.
"..."
"...Tch."
The both of them scoff, before going back to where they were originally standing.
"The last thing you should know about when it comes to magic are contracts. They''re restrictions bound upon one''s self, or another person. The more limiting the restriction, the stronger the trade-off.
For contracts applied against one''s self, these are usually used to squeeze more power out of a technique."
Yamada raises his hand. "You say there''s restrictions but... what do you mean by that?"
"Good question. In all honesty, it could be anything. It could be a time limit, like using a technique for only 20 minutes a day, to sacrificing your own hand. The more severe a limitation is, the greater power you''ll get in return. Especially, when you mean it. Let''s take for example, your hand, right? If you were to apply an impromptu sacrificial contract to deliver the strongest punch possible, at the cost of your hand, that''s going to magnify your damage by a lot. But every sorcerer can just go to Ms. Gretchen and have their hand healed right afterwards. But if you do the same contract, and you actually mean it, implying that you''ll never heal your hand back, then that contract permanently stains you. You''ll lose your hand, at the cost of delivering a punch far stronger than a contract you don''t put your life on- metaphorically spea- eh well... sometimes metaphorically speaking, other times, not so much. You know how we mentioned the baseball spirit a lot earlier?"
"...All too well," says the cockroach, actively looking at Akemi.
Akemi kindly waves back at him with an innocent smile.
"Well," continues Makoto, "we managed to take that spirit down thanks to one sorcerer''s brave sacrifice he made an on-the-spot contract that not only sacrificed his skin- all of it, but also his ability to use magic. Of course we had to find means to prevent him from dying but thankfully, that sacrifice alone nuked the baseball spirit instantaneously."
"Wait hang on, what happens if a contract is broken," asks Yamada.
"...It depends. Much like how severe the contract is in the first place, the punishment will be of equal worth. Let''s say you put a restriction on a technique that says you can only use it between 2 PM to 9 PM, just to make it four times as strong."
"That''s an oddly specific contract."
"Just bear with me for a sec. So let''s say you do that, and you use the technique after 9PM. The contract will be broken and in a worst case scenario, you just lose that buff, and now your technique is back to its default, mundane version. Bummer, but it is what it is. If for example, you do a contract that restricts you from using a specific yet power technique more than once in your life, that technique is going to easily destroy greater spirits and contest against gods, right? But, if you use it more than once, you just die on the spot. A contract that severe can''t be toyed with."
"Ah... that''s ... scary, to say the least."
"Oh but that''s not the scariest part yet. Under niche circumstances, you can even have contracts with other people. Whether it be sharing a line between two people, thus enhancing both of their capabilities as long as the other person is alive, or even a ''gentleman''s agreement'' within a fight, banning the use of a certain technique, contracts with other people are fragile, and can end up killing a person over a slight mistake."
"...gentleman''s duel?"
"Some people like to fight for fun, and just put arbitrary restrictions to keep the fight going."
"...that seems dumb."
"You''d be surprised by how many people here blur the line between ''dumb'' and ''delusional.'' Not that I agree with them."
"...no... that just seems dumb ??"
Naoki props up. "Oh hey look, he''s starting to do it too."
Back to Makoto. "Now, for right now, I believe that''s the basics and all you need to know about. Later down the line, I can tell you about niche techniques like umbra manipulation, as well as other smaller species of sorcerers like vessels and cyborgs, but for now, I''m pretty sure this amount of information should suffice. Don''t want to overwhelm more than I already have ??"
"I see."
"..."
"..."
The both of them look at each other before Yamada opens his mandibles.
Makoto interrupts him before he could let a word out. "Go ahead and tell me you want a review of everything I just said. Go ahead. See what happens."
Yamada''s body stiffens.
"...nevermind...."
"Great!" Makoto claps her hands. "Now, we shall go to the library to check out your first textbook as well as some handy tools to help you start. I''ll be frank with you though, since you''re such a unique case I highly doubt we''re going to teach you to be an all-rounder first, so we''re just gonna have to see what type you''re prone towards but... we''ll see. Let''s go."
Yamada gets up and hobbles towards the door, following Makoto. As the door closes behind the cockroach, Naoki leans against the board while Akemi silently sits on the window that he was sitting on the entire time. The air tightens. Both of them are quiet, unwilling to look at each other in the eyes, only staring at the ground, waiting for each other to initiate. It stays like this for a couple of minutes until Naoki breaks the silence.
"So.
You mind telling me what your sponsor''s problem is?"
Akemi sighs, closing his eyes.
"Yeah... I don''t know. I highly doubt its personal but, Mr. Mishima cares for his job you know? I will always support you Naoki, and you know that-"
"I don''t think letting your sponsor take me to court, much less a civilian is very caring of you, I''ll be frank."
Akemi wrinkles his nose. "I do care about you Naoki. I don''t like that he did that but, first of all, he''s a grown man, and a superior. I can''t convince him to do anything, no matter my suggestions. Second of all, no matter how much I want to side with you, in the eyes of the law, you are in the wrong."
"He''s an innocent person. How blind are you to see that? What did he do to you?"
Akemi stands up and inches closer to Naoki. "I have nothing against Yamada. He seems like a hardworking citizen, and a fine man. But, again, both of you did something wrong. I will always look out for you, but he''s just a stranger to me. No matter if he''s a hard working citizen, our duty is to prevent him from being seen, much less to prevent people like him from existing. I don''t know what happened to him, and I genuinely feel sorry for the guy. But we should have ended his misery when we had the chance."
The both of them stare at each other face to face.
"So you''re telling me you want to kill him. Is that it?"
Akemi sighs.
"No Naoki; that ship sailed the very second Mr. Mishima took the matter into his own hands. Again, I don''t have anything towards him. Perhaps we could even be friends. And I do respect him to a certain degree; even if he''s not bound by our society, he is still older than us, and thus deserves our respect much like any other adult. But that''s really I can say for him. I don''t like that Mr. Mishima dragged you into it, even if it is your fault. But again, I can''t control either of you two, so that''s that. Not only that but, the case is closed. I don''t know how I can make it up to you, but those are my genuine opinions."
Naoki closes his eyes and clenches his fists. Seconds later, he loosens up and sighs.
"Tsk.
...Ffffffffffffffiiiiiiiiine. Apology accepted."
The both of them hug.
"I''ll talk to Mishima about it, because I do have my own qualms about it, even if I agree with him to a certain extent. But I don''t think anything I say will change anything."
"It''s fine. It''s not that I''m necessarily mad at you, its just confusing on who''s side you''re on, and it seemed bogus that you were playing both sides but... I guess you''re right; it''s too late to do anything about it so why cry about it. I guess I just wanted things to be cleared, and I''m glad you''re at least honest about it. I can''t force you to befriend Yamada, and that''s that.
By the way Akemi, when you sighed, your breath got in my face. You should brush your teeth."
"Paha, you always know how to lighten up the mood."
"...I''m serious."
.
.
.
Meanwhile, in the plains of Wisconsin
Casual evil roams in the search for community.
『Chapter 9: Lets talk』
Within the quiet, clean halls of the CIA headquarters, the typical white fluorescent lamps buzz endlessly. Electricity whirring quietly all throughout the facility, Vincent saunters through the halls, checking his phone every few minutes. Each step echoes throughout the marble floors and felt walls. The lights seem to go on forever. Every five feet, there''s another identical lamp. "Tch..." thinks Vincent to himself; "too damn bright..."
Eventually, he sees his co-worker sitting on a chair, waiting outside an office. Jules leans over with his head down, staring at the floor.
"Yo," says Vincent upon arrival.
Caught off guard yet still in a haze, Jules slowly looks up at his co-worker. "What took you so long?"
"Code brown."
Woken up by the stench of sewage, Jules wrinkles his nose; "You''re so gross ??"
"Yeah honestly that''s the last time I''m eating Taco Bell for breakfast. Anyway, what''s up with you?"
Rolling his eyes before settling back to a distant stare, Jules replies, "nothing I''m just... tired. Also I''ve been waiting for you for the past half an hour or so."
"Typically you''d be pissed about me being late. What''s the difference now?"
"Honestly, I am annoyed but for one, I''m tired, and two- at this point, I''m just used to it."
Vince makes an annoyed face.
??
"Yeah, fine, I''ll give you that one."
"You know they''re going to scold us right?"
"Oh come on, its only been like-"
He checks his watch.
"4 minutes past the agreed meeting time. He hasn''t come out and called you in yet, has he?"
Jules momentarily ponders, before raising his head, going "...Actually, no he hasn''t. Suppose you got lucky this time."
"Luck huh?"
Vince shoots a cheeky grin before continuing.
"I don''t really believe in superstitions but, I guess I am pretty lucky."
Jules raises his eyebrow while giving a deadpan stare.
Vinny puts his fists on his hips as he looks down back at him.
"What''s that look for huh?"
"You''re doing too much."
"Tch, and you''re no fun."
"Boring vs annoying...
...
Are we really back to this conversation again?"
"Paha, I guess so," smiles Vincent. "Say, by any chance did they brief you in on what the meeting was about?"
"No."
"Tsk. Guess we''ll se-"
The office door swings right open. Peering out of it was a sixty year old white man with white hair, a tall stature, and a decently firm build for a man his age.
"Ah, boys; right on time," says the chief. "Come on in."
Vincent grins once more while Jules rolls his eyes.
As they all sat down, the two agents look at each other, before Vincent starts.
"So chief, what''s uh... what''s the meeting about?"
"Before we begin," says the chief, "would you guys like a drink?"
Before either of them respond, the chief pulls out three glasses and a bottle of gin.
"What''s the occasion," asks Jules with a perplexed look.
"Well, both of you are on time. That''s reason enough to celebrate no?"
The chief pours half of the glasses full of gin.
Meanwhile, the two agents look at each other with concerned looks.
"Sir," starts Jules, "its 2 o''clock in the afternoon."
"Well that just means its happy hour somewhere," smiles the chief as he takes a swig.
Jules looks at Vincent; Vincent responds back with "don''t look at me, I don''t drink enough to know that."
"Well, we can change that right now. Come on! Half a glass never hurt anyone!"
The both of them glance at each other with the same look.
"Thank you sir but, I''ll pass," says Jules; "Yeah, I''m good ??" says Vinny.
"Oh. Hm. Well," shrugs the chief. "No reason to waste." He pulls both of the refused glasses near him and slowly sips on one.
"Mr. Washington..." starts Jules, "is something wrong?"
"Mmmm- *lip smack* yeah, I''m glad you could tell. What gave it away?"
The two agents glance at each other for a split second, before the chief interrupted.
"Nevermind that. I''m sure the both of you have honed your ''special training'' these past couple months, right?"
"Oh hell yeah!" Shouts Vincent. "We''ve been cruising on the training. This shits so awesome! I wonder why we couldn''t have done it earlier?"
"Yes," simply responds Jules.
"Great, because I''m going to need you boys for a very special mission. Due to the classified nature of the artifact, I can''t spare many details about it but, long story short, a very strong artifact was stolen from us not too long ago. Its said this thing could level a small country."
"So like... a nuke?" asks Vincent.
"Worse. Its damage isn''t as immediate as a bomb. But the fact that its spiritual in nature means that nobody, excluding sorcerers, can damage that thing. So imagine a disaster destroying everything in its path with no possible way of diverting or destroying it. Depending on where its deployed, of course this weapon could either last a decent amount of time before sorcerers destroy it, or it may even survive the destruction of the country, and continue onto another. But, fact of the matter is: we don''t have the damn thing."
"I''m assuming you already sent people to investigate for it," comments Jules.
"Yeah, I did; Agent Straissand and Agent Carter specifically."
Jules furrows his brows. "They''re the ones who took out-"
"Yeah," rebuts the Chief. "Alone, mind you. And guess what. That thing has a tracking device (naturally) so we sent the both of them expecting an easy in and out mission. A dingy motel in California? One or two guys looking after the thing? Piece of cake."
Chief Washington leans in and stares directly into both of the agents souls.
"Both of them dead within two hours of their deployment."
"WHAT?" shouts Vinny. "Straissand... he was so cool..."
"What about Carter?" comments Jules.
"Nah, she was a bitch."
"Gentleman," announces the chief.
"Tsk, yeah yeah, go on," says Vinny.
Jules punches Vincent''s arm, before saying "sorry sir, continue."
"Anyway, we were considering on sending a whole force of our agents to their location but then here''s the thing. Even if we sent our two best agents, who were one of the first people to really get into grips with magic mind you, we knew that if those two couldn''t do it, then a group of novice magic agents wouldn''t be able to do it, much less an army of agents with guns. And hell, even if we did, march in with a bunch of guns, I doubt that would do jack shit, and would cause noise to the civilians..." The chief takes a brief moment to chug the rest of his drink, before continuing. "And *hic*- not saying I would ever suggest this but, in a hypothetical timeline where I would agree to bombing the place, AGAIN, NOT SAYING I WOULD EVER SUGGEST IT, we don''t know how that would react to the artifact. Last thing we need is that thing''s effects running around in the country. And the more annoying part, even if we did bomb the place, the FBI would come knocking on our door, and no matter how hard and effective we can cover our tracks, they''re just... they''re just ANNOYING, you know?"
"(He''s rambling)" whispers Vinny.
"(I know)" replies Jules.
"And then, even if we wanted to get another agency on our side like the FBI, those bastards would die too! You know? God damn it, sorry I''m just..."
Washington takes a deep breath, before regaining his bearings.
"My bad. Long story short, as it turns out, the whole debacle was all Senor Frank''s dumbass fucking things up again. It took us two hours worth of playing telephone with Frank to get that vendor and his Chinese goon from killing us all."
Jules'' eye twitches at the sound of the name. Vincent notices.
"How did that happen?" asks Vincent.
"Well, I think you already know the guy holds special immunity within the company. From the basic gist of it, he''s allowed to do whatever the hell he pleases. Even though he''s technically not officially a part of the CIA, he has close ties to the directors. Not to mention, I get magic regimens to train you guys from him, so in a roundabout way, he''s above me in terms of ranking. So, to no one''s surprise, he made a note saying he''ll ''borrow'' the artifact, and then by borrowing it, the guy lent it to a vendor in the black market. The worst part is, he didn''t even write a note. If he did, we wouldn''t be here running all over the place for the damn thing and yet- here we are. Its like the rumors say..."
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.The chief takes one more swig of the glass.
"He''s the devil..."
Jules and Vincent look at each other, then back at him.
"That was...
...
Gonna be honest, that was cheesy ??"
"I hate to pile on you like this sir but, yeah I''m going to have to agree on Vincent with this one."
Washington waves it off.
"You get the gist. Frank is the one who got us in this mess."
Vincent clicks his tongue.
"Don''t even imply he''s the devil. The devil is malicious and pure evil, but this guy''s just a slimy rat. I don''t get what''s so scary about this Mexican if all does is just toy with what isn''t his. In theory that sounds scary but every time I hear about this guy, he''s just dicking around."
"He''s not Mexican," rebuts Jules.
"Senor Frank is just an alias. Yeah he has pitch black hair, but that''s the only thing ''Mexican'' about him."
"You''ve seen him before?" asks Vinny.
"Yeah-"
Jules stops midsentence, before rubbing his head.
"What''s up dude?"
"Nothing I just... I just need to go to bed. I''m sorry sir but, can we wrap this up?"
"Ah, no worries son; we were about to finish anyway. As of lately, the artifact is now off of the vendor''s hands, and for whatever reason, Frank made it clear that he didn''t care about the thing after the vendor was done with it so... we''re gonna take it back. But, first thing''s first, I believe its best to get intelligence on the people who bought it first, before taking it back. I know this side of the black market is cryptic as hell, but the fact that they were able to buy it off the vendor at such a high price, as well as being knowledgeable about the magic world in the first place tells me there''s an opportunity for business here. So just spy on them, and if they have anything valuable, then hold off on the plan and report to me. If they seem worthless though, then kill them. The technology department will send you coordinates on where the tracker is located in a couple of hours."
"Sure, sounds easy enough," comments Vincent.
"Hold on," interrupts Jules. "How did Agent Straissand and Agent Carter die?"
"Peacefully," replies chief Washington. "At least in a macabre way. Upon autopsy their bodies looked perfectly fine, however, with the help of x-rays and dissections, it revealed that their brains were mashed into paste. While we were there, with a brief moment of truce after the whole debacle was explained, the vendor explained to us that his bodyguard flicked them on the forehead. On the forehead! Yet we examined high and low- not a single piece of evidence suggesting any impact to their skin... or any other surface on the body for that matter. I know I''m the chief of spiritual affairs, but you already know this is a relatively young field, especially when it comes to actually having our men apply and investigate it. The decades prior were just researching how to translate a single word... only for it to mean-"
"Tongue, yes I know," comments Jules, rolling his eyes. "Believe me, this one already explained how stupid our program began."
Vincent grins.
"Anyway," finishes up the chief, "where I''m getting at is that we''re still young. You two may tower over any other Olympic participant in terms of strength, speed, and actual abilities-
but this is a whole other level. Something tells me these guys you''re about to spy on are weaker than the bodyguard. I don''t have any solid evidence, but my basic logic goes: if they would be strong enough to beat him, then they would take the artifact without paying. But, that didn''t happen. Still, ''being weaker'' than one person is an entirely different can of worms. A tank is weaker than a MOAB strike; doesn''t mean you''re going to survive a god damn tank missile to the face."
Jules raises his finger while starting to open his mouth.
"-without abilities I mean."
Jules lowers his finger.
"That being said, I believe you two are more than ready to take this mission on. Are you?"
"Hell yeah!" Shouts Vinny.
"Of course," affirms Jules.
"Very well," says the chief.
The three of them stand up; the chief raises his glass.
"Say, before you two leave," he says before sitting down. "I need to have a private meeting with the two of you. The other one can wait outside."
Both Vincent and Jules look at each other confused.
"Let''s start with you Jules. Vincent, close the door on your way out."
"...Oookay."
Vincent does so as he leaves; Jules sits down, looking eye to eye with the chief.
"Now Jules, I know you''re a very smart man. And I know you''re very close to Vincent-"
Jules snickers.
The chief raises his eyebrow, before the agent pretends to cough. "Excuse me chief- continue."
"...very well. I know Vincent is the rambunctious type, but we at the company don''t like that- you know this. He''s a very capable man- when he feels like it. I know he''s your partner, but we have plenty of co-workers available if-"
"Vincent isn''t anything special to me. He thinks we''re friends, but I only see him as a co-worker. It doesn''t matter if you switch him out with another person; it doesn''t matter if you shoot him in from of me. I work for my sake, and my sake alone."
The chief stares at Jules. Just as the chief was about to continue, Jules continues his interruption.
"If I''m being honest, I don''t know why you partnered me up with anyone in the first place. Hell, partnered me with him no less. Sorry to interrupt sir, just voicing my complaints."
The chief''s lips quiver for a moment, before readjusting his glasses and continuing. "Ah well... yes. That means telling you this will be easy. You see, when agents pass the academy as well as the training regimen, we forcefully implant a chip on the back of everyone''s brainstem. None of you remember this, and nobody is exempt. Even the highest people ranked here- including me- still have theirs."
Jules stares at his boss with an unflinching gaze. The boss continues.
"That being said, only people of high ranks know the individualized pass codes to detonate the chip. If you couldn''t guess already, the chip is a small bomb. You know, typical CIA fashion heheheh." The chief forces a light chuckle. Jules continues staring with a muted expression.
"...
Well anyway Jules, I, and the rest of the chiefs of the other departments believe you''re ready to be handed the code to Vincent''s chip. If he''s ever acting too out of line, too suspicious, or for whatever reason, you just FEEL that he''s not worth the trouble anymore-" the chief tilts his head; "go ahead and say this line aloud."
The chief leans in. Jules lends his ear.
"Mint Spaghetti with a side of peppermint ice cream."
The both of them lean back to their seats. The chief starts once again.
"I''m sure you already know the typical CIA tricks. If anybody tries to deactivate their chip, it explodes. If anybody touches the specific point where the bomb is located, it explodes. If somebody tries to use magic on the chip, it explodes. Anything done to that thing, it explodes. Simple."
"What happens if I get struck there," asks Jules.
The chief shrugs. "You die. Just... don''t get hit!"
Jules clicks his tongue.
"And whats the significance of the code?"
"Ah well its pretty basic. Its something so specific, yet something you could slip in a conversation that you could activate it without them noticing. If you start spouting gibberish, especially if there''s open conflict between two people, they''ll stop at anything to shut the other person up before they complete the line. Even if its a simple word, with the aid of magic or ki or whatever, they could be fast enough to interrupt it. So, that''s why we took the subtle approach."
"Hm. Is that all, sir?"
"Yeah, that''s about it. Go on and grab Vincent for me, would you?"
"Affirmative."
As Jules exits out the door, Vincent is sitting down, watching a video on his phone. He looks up at Jules, smiles, then takes his earphones out.
"Hey! What''d you guys talk about?"
Without looking at Vincent Jules sits down and responds.
"Nothing important. He''s waiting for you."
??
Vinny shrugs and walks inside, closing the door on his way in. He sits down and automatically opens his mouth.
"So boss, what did I do this time."
The chief smiles and responds with a bright demeanor. "Oh nothing, you''re never really a concern for us. If anything, you''re a lot more competent than a lot of these people."
"Uh huh," says Vincent, putting his phone away.
"Your progress in the field of magic is something to behold, really."
"Yeah," replies the agent, looking at his nails.
"Out of everyone in training course, you were the top student. Out of 100 agents qualified, 62 agents failed, 10 were critically injured before they could complete it, 14 graduated to the spiritual branch, and the other 14 were automatically assigned to the special fo-"
"Sir, I hate to sound brash but, I highly doubt you called me over just to glaze me. Besides, you don''t need to remind me. I was there, after all."
The chief readjusts his glasses while holding a stern face.
"Quite. You understand how great you are- yet you squander your potential. You could''ve joined the unit, and yet, you decided to stay back with the rest of these mediocre agents." The chief leans in.
"Why."
Vincent sighs and finally responds.
"You know why..."
Vincent takes off his glasses. He looks outside the sunny window and takes a deep breath.
"I''ve always known I was great. I always thought that getting my ego sucked dry would''ve completed me in life. The more I did however, the more tired I got. And that''s when I found... my companion."
The chief looks stunned.
"Oh... I didn''t know it was that deep."
"Oh but of course it is sir. Who else could complete me. Who else would accompany me in such lonely nights. The blankets get cold after all but... its them... the one to complete me...
The whore known as.... sloth..."
The chief turns red.
"I see well, I don''t know how to tell you-"
The chief then looks up.
"Wait what-"
Vincent grabs the chief''s suit with pleading fists. His face overexaggerates itself with disgustingly sad proportions.
"I ADMIT IT SIR! I AM BUT- A LAZY FUCK! TWO BAGS OF DORITOS AND PEPPERMINT ICECREAM. CHOCOLATE BARS AND APPLE CIDER BEER. OH WOE IS ME, FOR I HAVE BECOME, THE SINNER OF SNEED."
Vincent lets go of the chief''s suit before sitting back down with a leaned back posture, a relaxed stare and a raised eyebrow.
"Is that what you wanted to hear, sir?"
Flabbergasted, the Chief furrows his eyebrow. Unsure on whether or not to activate Vincent''s chip right then and there, or applaud his admittedly impressive performance, the chief stays silent and simply stares at the agent.
The agent rolls his eyes. "Look sir, I''m comfortable here and that''s that."
After what felt like five minutes, the chief finally composes himself and coughs.
"Very well then... well, I called you over to talk about Jules. He''s a great agent, but he''s quite... lacking. His prowess in ki and magic are decent, but for some reason its like he doesn''t want to use psychopower-"
"He can''t." Assured Vincent.
"I''ve talked to him about it before. We don''t know what it is either but for now, it seems like he''s going to have to depend on those two. Besides, that''s the only thing he lacked in during the course. He had flying colors for the rest of the course."
"Yes but, we need as many agents to be all-rounders when they begin."
"Not Jules. I understand where you''re coming from but, I come from the land of logic. If you let him specialize in two of those abilities, his specialization will triumph over any all-rounder, and the only hurdle would be to worry about psychopower. But he''s smart enough to figure it out. And if he dies, well... he dies. That''s the way it is."
Washington purses his lips.
"Well... speaking of Jules dying, I called you over for that very reason."
Vincent raises his eyebrow; his gaze tilted, lowered.
"What."
"You see, for every agent here, we operate on them with the very same procedure. Whether they run out of line, they try to defect, or do something stupid, a code phrase is used to deactivate the agent. Jules is slightly different."
Vincent''s eyes widen.
"I''m sure you''re aware of his background-"
"That he''s from Chicago? That he was raised by a single mother?"
Vincent grips the chair''s handles. The chief looks away.
"...Right.
Well in whatever extreme or dangerous case you two see yourselves in, say this phrase to Jules. And I must repeat, do not use this unless you absolutely need it."
The chief leans in; Vincent worriedly listens.
"Bxgpcsp Qgnrt."
Vincent leans back and stares at the chief.
"Wha-
What does it do?" asks Vincent.
The chief takes a deep breath. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his desk. He stares at Vincent''s wavering eyes. The chief looks down, then looks back at those very same eyes. He purses his lips.
"I say this with complete sincerity. I know you won''t believe me, but I can even make a contract just to show you how honest I''m being. On my mother,
On everything I hold dear-
I don''t know."
.
.
.
The door slams shut. Vincent looks at the ground with pursed lips before looking back up at his friend. Jules was beginning to doze off. The white agents taps his comrade on the shoulder.
"Hey."
Jules tiredly looks up. "What?"
"What are you feeling for lunch. Its on me." He shoots a smile at Jules.
Jules instinctively shoots back a tired smile as he gets up.
"I''m feeling Red Lobster right now."
"Wha-"
Vincent rams himself into his friend.
"IN YOUR FUCKING DREAMS- YOU THINK I HAVE THAT TYPE OF MONEY?"
Waking up, Jules gives back the treatment.
"YOU DO HAVE THE MONEY DON''T EVEN LIE! YOU JUST OFFERED!"
"YEAH BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO ASK FOR RATDONALD''S! MF OVER HERE EXPECTING A THIRTY DOLLAR GOURMET MEAL- FOR LUNCH. I''M SICK."
The two of them continue to squabble;
All the way to Red Lobster.
.
.
.
Closer and closer in the dead of night.
Three cloaked figures walk on the property of a farm. A sprawling field of corn is set before them.
Wisconsin.
"This way."
『Chapter 10: Welcome to the Underground』
Meanwhile, in the plains of Wisconsin
Casual evil roams in the search for community.
Midnight; pitch black. The cold wind breezes past three figures. The repetitive sound of marshy wet steps is the only thing to be heard for a long while. Time blurs the longer the three of them walk. The stars are splattered all across the sky. The stench of corn and mud fills the fields for acres on end. Rustle. Rustle. Rustle. Rustle. Large flap of wings, and a hoot echoes nearby. The endless chirping drives them more and more annoyed, until it eventually evaporates into the background of their mind. The field mice crawl about. Led by a vague spiritual notion, they sense the acres warp around them. Walking through a film of oil, the air sits still. Something denser; somewhat warmer. Nature is quieter. The only thing out of the ordinary, is a slim yet noticeable path through the cornfields. The three cloaked figures walk forwards for acres on end without saying a word. Eventually, their tracks stop.
They are met with a dirty blonde 20 year old smoking a cigarette, hunched over, sitting atop a barrel, all while tuning their acoustic guitar.
"Password?" Lazily questions the the boy. He wore a thrasher shirt, a beanie, and tan shorts.
"The falcon has arrived," boldly states the middle figure.
"..."
The boy squints and scratches the back of his head.
"ehhhh....
its actually hawk but... close enough.
You''re in."
The figure to the right of the middle one hits their arm.
"See I told you it wasn''t falcon."
"I highly doubt you knew it was hawk either, so I don''t want to hear it," rebuts the middle one.
"We''re already here, so it doesn''t matter," says the remaining figure.
"What''s uh... what''s with the cloaks?" asks the 20 year old boy.
"Oh, well I know it gets muggy around night time, so I told them to wear layers. They look like cloaks but we''re actually wearing baggy hoodies," says the middle figure. He pulls off his hood, to reveal his chiseled face and blonde short hair, coupled with his trademark triangular black sunglasses.
"...
You wear sunglasses at midnight?" asks the 20 year old.
"See, I knew it was weird too," exclaims the figure to the right of him. Unveiling himself, Edward''s unique hair showed off its shiny pitch black luster.
The remaining figure unveils himself; a bored expression, befitting Jinsei Tsudzuku.
"Hold up; before you guys enter, I need you guys to raise your right hand and plead this contract. Is that cool?"
"Yes."
"Sure."
"Quick question," starts Edward. Both Chad and Jinsei look at him with a mix of concern and annoyance.
"Don''t worry, I''m going to agree, but out of sheer curiosity what happens if we don''t agree to the contract."
"Oh simple. You die."
"Ah."
Edward clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes.
"Bummer," he says while raising his hand. The other two do so as well.
"I _state_your_name_ agree to the conditions bestowed onto me before entering the Knoxville community center."
The three of them repeat after the employee.
"1. I agree to restrict my use of ki, sorcery, and psychopower unless directly permitted by staff, or in circumstances where they are eligible, such as the arena.
2. I agree to not possess any weapons upon entering the premises.
3. I agree to pay everything in cash, as any payment done digitally or through card possesses too many risks for the community and the center.
4. Any business, be it selling or squabbling is to be kept between the parties themselves; don''t drag other people into it.
5. I agree to not vend anything unless explicitly given permission by the community center (advertising does not count as vending).
6. I agree to stay safe, be myself, and have fun!"
All three of them roll their eyes.
The 20 year old continues.
"Upon agreeing to these terms, I understand that any infraction of these rules will confiscate all of my abilities, in which I will be forced to leave the premises with my memory wiped, as well as a high chance of brain trauma occurring."
He lowers his hand. "Understood?"
The three of them repeat the last line, before simultaneously saying "yes" to the conditions.
"Great!"
The guide claps his hands twice, before the scenery fades away into a vast whiteness. Feeling the ground beneath them shake, a large square cuts into the dirt, lowering the four of them. The sound of whirring continues.
Chad raises his hand whilst saying, "hey, quick question if you don''t mind. I doubt any of you would willingly let the risk of any normal person walk around here, and I doubt you guys didn''t detect our presence out of sheer coincidence so if you don''t mind me asking, how''d you guys do it?"
"Oh yeah, that''s a simple answer. You see, the Knoxville''s own the land. One of the owner''s, Johnny, is my cousin. He has the ability to map out coordinates and he''s able to do whatever he wants within the perimeters. The smaller the area, the stronger his control over it is. The area is big, being casted over 200 out of our 500 acres of land. Any person who doesn''t possess ki, magic, or sorcery is excluded, and is then teleported to the other side of the perimeter as if nothing happened."
Jinsei makes a silent reaction; Edward notices.
The employee continues, "In the off chance that cops get suspicious about our activity, we turn off the perimeters and the area reverts back to normal; there''s a reason the center only operates from sundown to sunrise. Anyway, those who enter and are privy to this side of the world are automatically monitored. But Johnny''s a busy guy, so what he did was add three ''snipers'' forming a triangle around the area. Killing a person with this big of an area would take too long, and constricting someone of their abilities would make them notice immediately, so they''d just run back out the very moment something felt off. So if someone were to do something real stupid, the snipers would shoot them. Even if the person is able to use Ki: Deflection, there''s two other bullets that would hit them. The cheeky sum''bitch even empowered it by limiting the number of ''snipers'' to three. He would have more than one, and still be stronger than if there were 5, or a hundred ''snipers'', thus amplifying the power of the shots. So even if he''s asleep, he has very little to worry about. And even with all that said and done-
I''m here."
Edward quietly yawns.
Chad raises his hand once more. "Another question: why the hell would you tell anyone about their technique?"
The employee audibly laughs. "Woah there tiger; did you already forget all of your powers are effectively sealed? The very moment this area detects malice with the use of a power, it confiscates them."
Chad furrows his brow.
"If you''re implying I was going to use them against you, you''d be incorrect. I don''t appreciate the prejudice, I was just curious."
The employee shrugs.
"Hey now, you''d be surprised how many people try to pull something slick; its become a habit to warn new guests."
Chad crosses his arms. "Continue."
"Aaanyway, that''s the first thing. The second part is that since I just explained how the ability works to someone else, I just made it stronger."
Jinsei''s eye twitches.
"And lastly:
It''s to build trust.
You guys are new here, right?
Well then, what better way to get to know the community, than by being upfront."
The employee smiles, as the blank elevator doors open.
"The name''s Michael by the way.
Welcome to The Underground."
Upon stepping out, a sprawling neon mall was set before their eyes. Bustling with a plentiful amount of crowds, ranging from people who carried themselves as they would in their typical life, to others who visibly follow their spiritual creed down to the very attire they wear. A man with one arm bargains with a skater over the price of a knife. Several small cozy restaurants crowd the curving walls of the area, shaping a food court of sorts. A flock of tattooed people crowd over a table with an intense match going on; a Gathering of Magic. Not too far away, vendors spread all sorts of weapons and tools all over their tables and picnic cloths. Two men sitting in a corner look at the three newcomers: a black man wearing a tuxedo, and a white man wearing a red Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, and flip flops. They''re both wearing sunglasses. Children mummified with copious amounts of dirty bandages and veils run around the area.
Edward flinches, saying "kids?"
The other two don''t bat an eye.
The most eye catching thing about the setting however, were the stairs that descended downwards. This section of the community center took the shape of an indoor sports stadium, with levels that replaced seats with comfortable flat layers to accommodate anyone who wanted to vend their wares, set up a table, or just stand around and chill. Though the top layers were absent with chairs, the more the stairs descended, the more seats would be set. At the bottom of the eight set of stairs is a large glass container for spectators to see through. Behind the glass veil was a large rectangular arena with ten foot concrete tiles as the floor. Above the arena were screens showing the fight to the upper layers. Two people were fighting: a sturdy looking man with amber spiked hair, holding a kendo stick, and a bulky armored figure wearing a gas mask, equipped with a large bowie knife the size of his own torso. Ripping his gas mask off, the figure sucks in a large amount of air, before belching out a large blast of flame. Through the fire and flames, the swordsman leaps forward, breaching past the fiery screen, and whacking the back of the armored mage''s helmet.
The crowd cheers. Fists pump the air. Beer bottles clash against each other. People grunt and clench their dollar bills and betting tickets. Some people pout each time their voted fighter takes a hit. Others explode and shout "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? GET BACK UP GOD DAMN IT- FUCK."
By no means are these the only things within the center. As the three of them look at the round formation of the area, they notice large halls that split off into other sections of the community center.
"Jesus..." grunts Edward.
Michael raises his hand as he steps back into the elevator.
"If you guys need a hand, just give me- or anyone around here really- a call. If you guys want to leave, just come back to this elevator. See ya around!"
Jinsei and Chad wave.
"Goodbye."
"Yeah."
"YAAAAAAAAAAWN"
Jinsei and Chad look at Edward with an annoyed glance.
"Say guys, sorry if I wasn''t paying attention but, remind me what we''re doing here again," continues Edward.
Jinsei walks up to Edward and quietly talks.
"We''re here to get people on our side to attack Japan."
Edward looks at him with blank, wide eyes.
"That.
That...
sounds really dumb. Especially if its soon."
"I assure you, its all a part of the plan in the long run. Besides, we''re not here to make friends, so we won''t be using them for a long while. We''re going to hire a bunch of assassins from around here, preferably people who aren''t complete deadweight and could do some substantial amount of damage to some of the Academy''s forces. They''re going to attack the nearby cities near the academies. If things line up correctly, this is when other schools will be visiting each other for a joint event. The more people distracted, the more sorcerers we''ll get out of the way, and more importantly, the less eyes within the academy. I need a couple of things from the academy, and Solomon''s ability to make things completely undetectable is the only thing that can help me with this. I''m going to be honest, I never expected him to be useful, but after running a few experiments, I can confirm, his ability is completely undetectable. No amount of fine tuning spiritual or psychic sensing, or concentrating on the world or one''s senses with ki, nor any type of frequency, are able to detect him. Even with each steps he takes on grass, its as if the world corrects itself and the patch of grass moves as if it weren''t being stepped on."
Edward looks at Jinsei with a blank look. He then claps his hands and smiles.
"Well, looks like you know what you''re doing. What do you want me and Chad to do?"
Chad walks closer to the two. "We''re all going to look for people to hire, as well as any information really. This place is brand new to all of us. Best to spread out and see what it has to offer us. I''ll most likely check out with what''s going on at the arena."
Jinsei answers next: "I''ll go see if there''s any advertisements or knowledgeable people around here."
"And I''ll go check-"
Edward pauses;
"wha-
what the hell they already LEFT?"
.
.
.
Chad walks down the hill of stairs and scans the crowd watching the current match. There''s a crowd of white guys with beer bottles littering around their feet. Its very clear that they had a hard time standing as is.
"(I doubt they''d even be able to talk...)"
Near them, five figures cloaked in different colors huddle around as they analyzed the match. Their golden jewelry were the only things brighter than the stage lights.
"(They seem too busy to be bothered...)"
Between the two crowds was a lone young man. Standing at a slightly bellow average height, the 20-something year old has black hair that was styled into a pompadour. He wears a square, thick, baggy flannel, as well as equally baggy pants. His boots are clearly worn. He''s smoking a cigarette, keenly looking at the fight at hand.
"(...
Better than nothing I suppose,)" thinks Chad.
He walks over to him, approaching from the side.
"Say uh, do you know how this whole arena thing works?"
The guy glances at him with a side eye, scanning up and down before looking back at the fight.
"You new here?" He asks.
"Yeah, if you couldn''t tell."
"Sweet dude," says the figure in cool, nonchalant fashion. The figure presents his hand to Chad; Chad goes for a typical handshake before noticing the guy curls his fingers. Confused, Chad also curls his fingers- only to be met with the guy''s fist bumping into his own.
The guy looks at Chad with a confused gaze. "Damn bro, you''re sweaty."
Chad nervously wipes his hand on his jeans.
"I''m not good with new people."
"Yet you''re the one coming up to me."
"...yeah."
The man chuckles.
"Pahaha, the name''s Jordy. And you are?"
"Chad."
"What''s up Chad, What brings you here?"
"Business. Seeing the community. You?"
"I''ve been here for around right under a year but, mainly vibing. The people here are chill."
Chad looks forward and pays attention to the fight. The armored freak pants, frantically stepping away from the edge of the arena. The other fighter, the guy with the kendo stick, with a few minor bruises and burn marks, smiles, and motions for the opponent to come towards him.
Jordy cackles.
Chad leans slightly towards Jordy''s way, and asks: "I''m assuming you''re an assassin since you''re a part of this community. Are you?"
"Woah man, not me dude; I''m a pacifist," responds Jordy. "I''m a part of this community, and I know you''re new but- this community''s huge, right? You should not lump people in here bro. Yeah there''s assassins around here, varying from amateurs to pros but, there''s honest people here too. A majority of the people here associate with the black market, but we''re not all bad. Most of us are just trying to make an honest buck. Not every person who sells a gun is some terrorist; what the person does with that weapon is on the customer. They''re just providing for themselves. I know there''s some taboo stuff here and there, but if you chill with the right crowd, you''ll be fine, ya know?
"Yeah, I hear you," replies Chad. "Say Jordy, do you participate in the arena?"
"Oh hell yeah dude, I love it ''ere."
"...
I thought you said you were a pacifist."
Jordy raises his hands, "ah, I get what you mean. Yeah no, there''s two reasons I do this. For one, I''m a pacifist in the sense that I don''t kill. But beat people up? Say less. You see back in Chicago, there''s a lot of people there that need to get punched in the face right? But I don''t wanna kill anybody; It''s enough over there as is. But I''m a firm believer that if you punch a face enough times, they will change.
..."
Jordy looks at the ground.
"Or they won''t."
He regains his composure.
"But, I just like to think that people can change and be better."
Chad interrupts: "how are you so sure about that."
Jordy scratches the back of his head.
"Well, its not like every person is gonna react the same. I''m not dumb enough to think that my way works with everyone. And I know that people change only if they want to. But like- the way I see it, if talking and screaming and therapy won''t work," Jordy pauses and looks at the ground.
"Then giving someone a taste of their own medicine will someday wake them up."
He looks back up to Chad and smiles.
"But that''s just me.
As for number two:
MONEY"
Chad gave a semi-irked face with a raised eyebrow.
"(Way to be so noble...)" thinks Chad to himself.
"Aw come on don''t gimme that look. Its an honest way of getting money. Both guys are consenting adults who put money on the line. If I win, I win; if I lose- oh well."
He shrugs.
"That''s how it goes~"
"I see... and what abilities do you use? I''m assuming you use some sort of ki."
"Yeah I do, how could you tell?"
Chad gives him a weirded out look.
"Its not like you were just talking about punching people... also I can see a faint outline of your muscles through your shirt."
"Oh paha, thanks. But for right now I don''t really have an ability, I''m just working on my fundamentals. I''m half ki half magic though. You?"
"Same thing."
"And your abilities?"
"I punch things. Really hard."
Jordy puts his hand on his chin. "And what about the magic aspect."
Chad purses his lips and crosses his arms. "No offense, but I don''t think I''m comfortable with telling someone I just met what my magic ability is."
Jordy shrugs. "I guess that''s fair..." He then tilts his head down and shoots side-eyed glare with a cheeky grin. "Unless you''re scared that is..." He then faces Chad with a pumped up fist.
"Come on, you and me. $300 money match at the arena later tonight."
Chad raises his eyebrow. "You''re quite confident."
Jordy responds with a smile and an irked eyebrow, "you''re one to talk."
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Chad scoffs and smiles. "Sorry but, I''m going to have to deny tonight. I''m just browsing right now."
Jordy pouts and kicks the ground. "Damn." He then turns back to Chad, "well anyway, maybe next time."
Chad smiles. "Sure. I''ve got to say though, you''re pretty open about your abilities... why?"
Jordy shoots back a smile. "Because dude, its really not that deep. I mean yeah, I don''t have an ability yet so telling you what I''m capable of isn''t going to help you much regardless but like, I see everyone''s vibe right, and if I like you- I like you. But if I sense you''re weird then I''ll just walk away, you know? That goes for a lot of the community. Now, that''s not to say that you should trust everyone around here- no. There''s some genuine freaks out here. But if you hang with the right crowd... you''re chilling. I''ve made some genuine best friend material out here; people from all walks of life. You get to learn more, both about the world, about others... and about the good and bad of it all. But that''s life, and as such, the community here''s pretty solid. I''ve only been to one other community all the way in Michigan, and the sorcerers there are a lot stronger but, its a lot smaller, and just don''t vibe well, you know? I don''t know man, I just love it here."
"I see...
I''m happy for you. I''ve always been curious about these types of communities, but I''ve never been able to, mainly because of work or... family." Chad winces upon the utterance of the word; Jordy takes note. "But otherwise, I''m glad its what I expected, and more. Of course you''re the first person I''ve met here so, I''ll see how the rest goes but for now it seems... alright. Say, you mind explaining to me how all this arena stuff works?"
"Oh for sure. Come over here."
The two of them walk down the stairs and onto the level of the arena. Right beside the steel entrance of the giant glass cage, was a table with a man sitting behind it. A beanie made a shadow over his eyes. With a relaxed posture, the man looks up and calmly asks, "can I help you two?"
"Yeah so Chad here''s a new guy, I''m just showing him how the arena works."
The calm man smiles. "Ah I see."
Jordy then turns to Chad and explains: "so you wanna come over here and sign up with one of these guys. They have sign up sheets and you can either sign up for any open slot that''s available and fight a stranger, wager and agree on the amount of money you both will bet on, or come over here with the guy you want to fight, agree on a specific date and train until the day comes. I''m going to be honest, the spots here get filled up kinda quickly so if you want to fight on the day of, its pretty hard to get a spot in. Hell, sometimes matches get cancelled only because some people like to stall their fights- even when there''s a ten minute time limit."
"Sounds simple enough. Are there ranks around here?"
"Oh yeah, there''s no ''levels'' per se, but there''s definitely a board here full of people''s win streaks, the top 10 fighters of the month, and so on and so forth."
Chad''s grins in anticipation. Finally, a lead. "(If I can hire some of the top people here, surely they''ll be of some use to the mission...)"
"Who would you say is the strongest in here?"
"Oh the strongest...?
...
Well you''re looking at him."
Chad raises his eyebrow as he looked at Jordy.
It takes a second for Jordy to realize Chad was looking at him before he goes "what- no; The guy over there with the stick. I said that thinking you were looking at the fight."
Chad looks up at the fight. Sure enough, the armored figure was lying on the ground while the guy with the kendo stick raised both his arms and rejoiced.
"..."
Chad looks at his friend.
"That guy?"
"Yeh."
Chad gives a disgruntled look.
"But he''s so-
He has a-
??
That guy he was fighting wasn''t anything special though. I''m sure any one of us could take the gas mask guy down."
Jordy rubs his chin.
"You''re not wrong," he replies. "But I wouldn''t count him out right away. I''m not sure how experienced you are in magic but, this guy is the current number 1 for a reason."
"I guess I''ll go talk to him in a bit... besides, what are the rules of the arena? I''m sure some people have to hold back."
"Hold back? What do you mean?" asks Jordy.
"Well let''s say there''s a magic specialist, and he has the power to use bombs. If he detonates one, I doubt the center would just allow for the place to get nuked."
Jordy chuckles.
"Ahh that''s what you mean. So in that sense yeah people are limited. In that specific scenario however, the bombs wouldn''t go anywhere outside the arena. First of all, I''m sure Mikey explained to you that we''re inside an area with special coordinates, right?"
"...Yeah?"
"Yeah well, we''re actually not on Earth right now."
Chad tilts his head.
"That... explains a decent amount."
"Yeah. If you want to be fancy I guess you could call it a pocket dimension but the point is, we''re not on Earth. Johnny is able to shape the size of the perimeter outside, but it won''t affect the size of the inside here; he can make it the size of a hopscotch square, and we''d still be completely fine. That being said, if it weren''t for the contract that we all signed when we got in here, we could''ve still used our abilities. Technically we still can, but the contract has an automatic filter that confiscates abilities if it has a rather unsavory intent behind it like ''malicious'' or whatnot. I''m gonna be honest, I''m not gonna risk showing you my abilities, even if its with a harmless intent, you know how it is. ANYWAYS, With that in mind, I''m sure you heard from Mike that there''s some few exceptions. The guy who runs the arenas, or technically, the owner of the Arena space is one of those few exceptions and as such, he''s able to use his ability. The stage can take any shape or form that the creator pleases; hence its indestructibility. So, the analogy of the bombs wouldn''t work in the first place. Going back to the rules though: they go as follows:
1. No killing. Depending on the circumstances, the effects of the punishment range from a ban, confiscation, or even death. Certain circumstances are exempt.
2. There are various criteria when it comes to fights. Depending on the custom ruleset the fighters want to be applied, fights can either be judged via knockout rules, point rules, ringout rules, style rules, and so on and so forth.
3. There is a 10 minute time limit. If the time runs out, the victor can either be judged by the crowd, judges, or based on whatever the ruleset is.
And I''m sure there''s more niche stuff there but that''s basically it. The killing one is the main penalty, and the waiver you sign actually trades your life force for your opponent''s if you kill them... unless both of you are crazy enough to agree to a death match then... there you go."
Chad audibly clicks his tongue.
"(So the chances of assassins going to the arena are pretty low, seeing as how they more often than not would risk killing themselves due to the contracts. And I''m not sure many assassins would be confident in a death match if the other guy is confident in killing as well.)"
"Say, Jordy, by any chance are there assassins who compete in the death match rules, or arena in general?"
Jordy scratches the back of his head.
"Man... I wanna help you but honestly bro, I''m still pretty new here. I only ever come like twice a month and even then, I rarely see any death matches here."
"I see. Well, I appreciate it regardless."
"(Come to think of it,)" thinks Chad, "(even if there aren''t that many assassins who participate in the arena, I don''t doubt that good enough fighters would still be able to do a decent job of taking a couple of sorcerers down, especially with good enough pay. Speaking of which, I don''t think...)"
"Hang on Jordy, I need to make a quick call."
"Say less ??"
Chad quickly whips out his phone and calls Jinsei.
"What happened," asks Jinsei.
"I just realized, we''re going to pay the assassins, right?"
"If they ask, tell them its for a mission in Japan in a couple of months, and the pay is for each head."
"Are...
Are we actually going to pay them?"
"No. They''re just there to buy us time."
Getting the hint, Chad sighed.
"As expected...
Well, I''ll tell you if something comes up."
"Only call me if its an emergency. Text me otherwise."
*Click.*
"Well Jordy, it looks like I''m gonna have to talk to the guy with the stick. No offense but it looks like he''d be way more knowledgeable about these types of things. I''m not sure if you''d be too interested in the conversation."
Jordy waves his hand sideways. "Nah man, don''t sweat it. I was starting to get hungry anyway. I''ll be at Hotdog central if you wanna come swing by. See you around, nice meeting ya."
Chad smiles.
"Nice meeting you too, Jordy."
They shake hands.
"Peace dude," says Jordy.
As Jordy saunters away, Chad approaches the entrance of the arena. Bursting out of the door with a cloud of sweat, the swordsman with the kendo stick walks out. His shaggy amber hair went right above his shoulders. The swordsman seemed to be in his mid to late twenties. Taking off their tanktop, revealing scars on their body and fresh burn marks, the figure was left with wearing baggy pants and thick boots.
"Hey there I wa-"
Before Chad could finish his sentence, the stench runs up his nose.
"OH WHAT THE-"
Chad frantically covers his nose.
The swordsman looks towards Chad. Seeing something was wrong, the swordsman runs up to him and pats Chad on the back.
With a bit of a Scottish twinge, yet skewed with an American manner, the swordsman asks, "Oi, you good man?"
Chad looks up and sees the swordsman. As much as he would like get the questions out of the way, the only thing he could utter is "c-c-could you please put on som- COUGH deodorant?"
Confused, the swordsman takes a bit to understand what Chad was trying to say, before going "huh? Oh yeah. My bad mate. Oi! B-man, dose me."
Flying at him, a canister of aerosol deodorant lands on his palm. "Thanks bruv!" The swordsman leans away from Chad as he does his hygienic duty.
"Tch-heh, my bad. Just finished fighting, ya know? I rarely get like this unless I work up a good sweat... Or I get burned. But don''t worry, you''re not the first one to complain pahaha."
Disgruntled, Chad looks at him.
"...Right.
My name''s Chad," he says while presenting his hand.
"I saw your fight and I heard you were the number one here. And you are?"
"Cedric Pike.
HHHHOOOOOAAAACCCHHH-PTOO"
A liter of saliva envelopes his hand before accepting Chad''s hand shake.
"Pleased to beat ya!"
"(...this better be worth it...)"
"Say, Cedric, you''re the number one here, correct?"
"Sir, yes sir! I''ve been grinding this place for a while now, and I love it here. It took me a couple months (and the previous number one to get disqualified) but in the end, I finally did it," jovially says Cedric.
Raising an eyebrow, Chad asks "wait, repeat that one more time?"
"I''ve been grinding this place for a while now?"
"No, the thing you said last."
"I finally did it?"
"No, before that."
"But in the end?"
"No- dude ??the LAST thing you said."
"...
...
it."
"I swear on your li-"
"Oh, were you talking about the previous number one?"
"YES."
"..."
Cedric tilts his head while shrugging.
"Well why didn''t you say so?
Anyway, the previous number one was uhh... bit of a prune. He was number one for around a year or two, but he kept on winning matches ''unfairly'', so to speak."
"Unfairly. How? It''s a match with abilities. By every margin, everybody is cheating."
"I''m getting to that. You see, Warren was (or is) an assassin by trade. He''s good at killing people-"
"But then how did he bypass the contract."
With an annoyed look, Cedric stares at Chad.
"Mate, you''re impatient. Let me talk for a second, aright?"
Chad stares back at the swordsman through his sunglasses.
"(It''s okay.)" Thought Chad. "(Just. Five minutes with this guy.)"
"Now, Warren''s good at that type of stuff. But his ability doesn''t straight up kill anyone instantly. He can pause the process and just debilitate someone to the point where they become too injured or too weak to fight. Don''t get me wrong, its not like he was one of those people who depended solely on their abilities with no fundamentals or whatnot. But that''s the thing; in a sort of sense he became too good. Sure he didn''t kill people in the arena, but when you effectively ruin their bodies, at that point they''re already retired at age twenty. And that''s bullshit man. I understand one thing if you''re doing this as a side gig, but that crosses a line. So, on top of most of his matches getting stale to watch, as well as the constant complaints coming from his victims growing more and more, it was inevitable that the community decided to ban him until further notice. Serves him right."
Chad''s eyes lit up behind his glasses.
"(This guy seems like the perfect fit for what we''re looking for. If I were to take this guy''s word seriously, then that would imply that Warren would be able to do more than just distract...speaking of distract though, I don''t doubt this buffoon would serve as good bait at the least and an actual help at most.)"
"Say, Cedric. If you were to fight against this Warren fellow, would you lose?"
The Scotsman smirks before shooting a glance at Chad while pointing his thumb at himself.
"Nah.
I...
Wouldn''t lose."
"..."
Chad gave a semi confused look.
"What''s with that look?"
"Oh nothing, it just sounded like you were going to say something else but... don''t worry about it."
"...Right. Well, to be fair I actually have fought him once before."
Chad does a double take before going "huh?"
"Yeah, it was a while ago. We both agreed to the bout and I was actually doing fairly decent. I didn''t let him touch me, and I was cutting him down with my range. But the very moment I sensed he was going for that move, that''s when I raised my hand and forfeited."
Confused, Chad leaned closer to Cedric. "What? Why?"
"Because here''s the thing, I fight for many reasons. But the very moment it becomes lame, that''s when I call it quits. His ability? Wack. His demeanor? Wack. The fact that he fights for money instead of for the fun of it? Wack. I just can''t respect him. Keep in mind, I have no bad blood against any of these people; they''re my people. Nothing personal about it, I just really fucking hate this guy. Simple as."
"That... didn''t answer my question."
"Oh right, my bad. The basic gist is that even if I sacrificed myself to cut him down, his ability would take a toll on me, and I''m not sacrificing myself for that scuffle, no matter how much he annoys me. Not only that, but if I were to kill him, the contract would activate and kill me instead so, lose-lose."
"I see....
...say, do you just use that stick and wack it at people to win?"
"Pahaha, you''re funny! But to answer your question, yes. Not just this one, but all of my swords."
"Why would you use this one over... literally any other sword."
"Well for starters, I don''t want to kill anyone."
"Ah, that''s... fair."
"Two, for variety-"
"Variety?"
"And most importantly three:
I''m a very indecisive man," he said with a strict, serious tone.
Chad just stares at the man.
"..."
"(I think its best not to analyze this guy)."
"Say and is this all you do? Fight?"
"Ehhh..."
Cedric rubs the scruff of his goatee.
"I...kinda. Yea! Whenever the community closes I just go to the woods with my swords and sleep."
Chad connects two and two together.
"Wait... you''re homeless?"
"I prefer the term ''vagabond'', but if ya want to call me that SLUR instead then, sure."
Hornswoggled, Chad continues.
"Ok wait so, what do you do for food?"
"Since I don''t worry about money thanks to the arena, I make do. If I''m feeling lazy, I''ll go to the grocery store and buy what I need before they kick me out. If I''m feeling really lazy I eat out at a restaurant quickly, before they threaten to kick me out. And most days I just hunt with whatever''s frolicking about."
"...with your swords?"
"With my swords."
Unsure whether or not Chad''s face wanted to express tiredness or confusion, his face contorts into one representing an aneurysm.
"Chad, are you ok?"
"What? Yeah, sorry I''m just... processing."
Before Chad could continue his impromptu interview with the champion, he felt a vibration in his pocket. Whipping his phone out, he sees who''s calling. Immediately concerned, he answers the phone.
"Solomon?"
.
.
.
Rewind back to an hour or so.
While Chad was looking for information surrounding the arena, Jinsei was exploring the rest of the underground. From conversing with some of the local clans, to quickly browsing the wares of the merchants, the vague notion of "someone or something useful" escaped the prodigy. Eventually, he directed himself towards a particular looking wall. Sprawled with colors, the closer he went up to it, the more it revealed itself to be a board full of advertisements. Business cards pinned atop each other, fighting for attention. Posters that took up way too much space. A "Swift assassin for hire, starting at 40K" here, a "Underground Transport Agent" there. Different business, different people. Right in the center of the entire board however, one business card made itself very clear. The surrounding business cards dared not to be within its 6 inch radius. Alone, it catches the eye of Jinsei.
"Warren Visage
Assassin.
xxx-xxx-xxxx"
Clean, pristine, shade of gray as the background, while the font was simple yet refined. Jinsei took one of the cards and examined it. He raised his eyebrow regarding the ominous aura the simple piece of paper gave off, but kept the phone number in mind.
After pocketing the business card, he examined other the other cards on the board; namely, the ones who were assassins, though some other ones might be useful. There was one card with black background and purple font filled with colorful spritework and designs. Despite being an assassin duo with the contact information on it, the card itself seemed more like a trading card than a business card. Jinsei kept on examining the card more and more, commenting to himself.
"...
It hurts to look at this..."
He pocketed the card of the duo who called themselves "The dream team." He scoffs to himself, continuing to look for others cards. Unfortunately, most of them didn''t seem to have any of their abilities posted on their cards, only names and contact information. Jinsei clicked his tongue. "Suppose secrecy is key..." He then scratched the back of his head.
"But meeting these people all individually is going to be a pain."
He looked at the ground before the vein''s in his eyes pulsed.
"So what of it."
As he snapped back to reality, he continued scanning for more business cards, before looking to his left. Barely realizing a stranger was standing next to him for a while now, Jinsei simply stared.
"Wow..." started the stranger.
Looking up and down, Jinsei tried to make sense of the person. What he saw was a taller than average, lanky, brown haired twenty year old. They wore a bucket hat that hardly contained the copious amounts of hair. Pins were applied onto the hat, most likely resembling album covers of obscure artists from the back ends of the internet. Aside from that, they wore a tan bomber jacket on top of their red hoodie, tan shorts, and Birkenstocks.
"That''s so cool, isn''t it?" continued the stranger.
Jinsei continued staring while asking back, "what is?"
"Oh well you see this poster here, it says that this guy could revive people. Isn''t that useful?"
Jinsei squinted at the person.
"...
...
It''s you, isn''t it."
"...
..."
The figure looked down while softly kicking the dirt.
"Yeah...
How could you tell?"
"I can assure you, no normal person would walk up to a poster, stare for a couple of minutes and go ''wow'', trying to get someone''s attention. The only people who do that are people who are trying to sell you something and/or, those who are desperate."
Jinsei turns to the stranger.
"So which is it."
The stranger put their palms up.
"Woah hey, I''m not lying dude, I swear."
Jinsei scoffs.
"On what."
"...what?"
"Swear on what damn it."
"...wha- I"
"Listen you idiot, either you swear on your life that you''re telling nothing but the truth, or I''m leaving."
With a surprised face, the stranger quickly responded.
"I swear dude. 100%."
"And you have no reason to lie?"
"No."
"So you agree that you will say nothing but the truth."
The figure gave a semi-wry face.
"Uhh... yeah? Sure? Yes?"
Breathing out, Jinsei''s red face cooled down.
"Alright. Well, thank you for agreeing to the contract."
"...Contract?"
"Yes. If you lie to me, you die."
"??"
"Don''t worry, you have no reason to lie to me, so you''re perfectly safe. That''s what you said, right?"
The stranger scratched their head. "Yeah but... Idunno death kinda sounds a little extreme but... I mean yeah I guess I have nothing to hide."
"I see. Well in any case, I apologize for getting heated there. It''s just that I''ve been looking for someone with your specific skills and you''d be surprised how many people have wasted my time."
"Ah I see. Don''t sweat it man, we''re chilling. The name''s Brook. And you are?"
Jinsei paused for a second.
"(I could give him a fake alias right here... but if he finds out my real name, that might cause some trouble... but then again, looking at this guy, he doesn''t seem the type to sell me out, nor even know who I am. And even if he does do something to hinder me I could always just kill him.
...
No. That''s still too risky. There''s no reason not to give him an alias.)" thought Jinsei.
"You can call me Scion."
Understanding, Brook softly smiled while looking at the ground. "Ah. Gotcha."
"So how do you exactly go about reviving someone."
"Well you know its like... a whole process. Its kinda long too so, if you have the patience, I wouldn''t mind showing you."
"I wouldn''t mind you showing me either. I''m not too busy at the moment either. Say, when are you available?"
"Woah man, really? Well that''s kinda quick??lemme uhh... lemme just check my calendar real quick."
"You seem surprised."
"Well yeah man it''s just...Nothing, nevermind."
Jinsei walked closer to the poster and inspected it. An amateurish artistic depiction of a zombie hand shooting out of a graveyard was the display of the poster. Aside from the most uninteresting way to advertise resurrections, Jinsei noticed the bottom of the poster. The place where people were able to rip out a contact number was still rife. Only three slits were taken off.
"...
I see you''re not quite popular," comments Jinsei.
"What makes you think that?"
"Do you really want to hear that ??"
"Actually no you''re right, I don''t ??"
"Yet I''m still confused. Wouldn''t people also want to revive their loved ones?"
"Yeah I thought so too, but once I explained to people that they had to come over, bring the body itself, and prepare the process that would take a couple hours minimum, they immediately get disinterested which... I can see."
Jinsei hardens his fist. His lips opened slightly.
"...
It''s like they never cared for them."
"what?"
"*Ahem*- no, nothing," coughed Jinsei.
Jinsei put his hand over his mouth and started contemplating.
"(Seeing as how this man hasn''t died yet, everything he''s said seems to be true. But then again, truth is based on perspective.
...
No. I can''t get my hopes up. I still need to see what caveat his technique has. There''s no way its that clear cut and simple.)"
"Well Brook, I''m assuming you don''t mind me asking you all types of questions about your technique, right?"
"Well, that''s why I put up my poster in the first place. Ask away."
"Great. When-"
RING RING RING RING
"UGH"
Brook raised their eyebrow.
"When UGH?"
"No hang on, someone is calling me."
Jinsei pulled the phone out of his pocket. "Call from Chad"
A warmth in his stomach rose; butterflies fluttered.
"(This is the second time he''s called...)"
Jinsei picked up the phone.
"What happened."
"We have to go.
Now."
.
.
.
Going back to Chad, just as Solomon called him.
"Solomon, what happened?"
"Things aren''t looking good. You know how Jinsei found the chip on the spike?"
Chad''s breathing grew heavier.
"Yes."
"He was right."
"You''re still in the hotel room, right?"
"Yeah, I''m invisible, the door''s locked and the lights are off. I''m peeking out the window and you know the room you guys ordered from the hotel across the street?"
"Oh no."
"Yeah. I saw two men enter and immediately close the blinds. One of them''s black and the other''s white. The lights are on and judging by the faint silhouettes I can see through the blinds, they''re making a mess out of the place. You guys need to come now this instant."
"I''ll go tell Jinsei right now. You stay put, and just call me if anything else happens. We''ll be there as soon as possible."
As Chad calls Jinsei and filled him in about the news, they both meet up near the entrance. Thankfully, Edward wasn''t too far off and is eating a bowl of ramen at one of the ramen stations.
Breathing heavily, both Chad and Jinsei surround Edward.
"Did any of you two find anyone or anything worthwhile?" asks Jinsei.
Chad says "Sort of..."
Edward calmly says "No."
Jinsei groans.
"What about you Jinsei?"
"I have a lead and I got his contact number but we''ll worry about that later.
Oh... god damn it. Edward, do you think you''d be able to catch up with us?"
"In terms of speed? Absolutely not. I just finished eating you kn-"
"Alright change of plans. Edward, you stay here and keep on finding new recruits. Chad, are you faster than the truck?"
"I am. but my main concern is if you''re able to keep up."
Jinsei bit his thumb.
"No... but I have the endurance to reach it. Just go ahead and go you''re fastest, I''ll be right behind you, even if I''ll be late by a bit."
"Alright, lets go."
The two of them jump onto the platform and rise back to Earth.
Edward simply raises his eyebrow.
"...whats up with them?"
He rubs his stomach, noticing the peppers were a bit much for him.
"Think I''m able to catch up to them... of course I can! Maybe don''t ask that after I''m done eating. God. So annoying..."
Just as he turned around to ask for a drink menu, an androgynous looking person sat right next them. They had purple highlights and an eager smile.
"So... what''s your name?"
"...
Huh?"
『Chapter 11: Im here now』
Eighteen hours earlier. After a long day at an assignment that he took over, Jules comes back to his "abode" to rest. It''s a temporary apartment rented out by the CIA. Jules sat on an old, worn couch. A pretty bland room with grey painted walls. The only furnishing that was in the room was an old CRT TV that was on the ground, a fridge, an oven, and blinds that blocked any sliver of sunlight. The glow from the TV blasted Jules with a sitcom from the mid 2000s. With a tired stare, Jules rested his fist on his cheek. His eyes went heavy. Every so often the obnoxious laughter of the family from the TV woke him up. Nevertheless, the droning of stock laughter and tired jokes repeated the cycle of wearing him down and waking him back up again.
The longer the shows went on, the more the quality deteriorated. Clear English and casual lingo oozed into slurred phrases and garbled gibberish. Jules then remembers the flaw of satellite TVs. The color began to lose focus as well, only showing a skewed black and white picture. Jules, in a drowsy haze wonders why there were so many shows with such lazy cinematography. The more they continued the lazier the production went. It became less about characters talking to each other and more akin to children shows, simply staring into the camera, talking to the audience. The distant, warped smiles. Those deadpan stares. "Stop looking at me," he thought. "Stop looking at me like that." Stop looking at me.
"Sthbdcs." A distorted voice calls out.
Jules'' body tightens. The air gets denser. He''s unable to move his body. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a scribbled, pitch black silhouette. A vibrant smile. The mouth gets closer to his face. Hands press onto his inner thigh. The sensation grows. Up his chest. Up his neck. Air flows near his ear. A whisper.
BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Jules wakes up.
It''s the apartment''s buzzer. Half awake, Jules stumbles towards the microphone. "Y-yeah? Who is it?"
"Dude, I''ve been calling you for like 30 minutes, why haven''t you responded yet?"
It was Vincent.
"Oh." Jules facepalms and pinches his brows. "What happened?"
"What happened? It''s already 9 in the morning, what do you mean what happened? We have a job to do."
"Oh. Yeah. Sorry I''ve just been working overtime so... yeah. Also don''t we have to do the job way later?"
Silence.
"...Vincent?"
Knock knock knock.
Jules peaks through the door hole. It''s Vincent''s magnified eye looking back.
"I figured I might as well climb up the 5 stairs just to talk to you," says Vinny through the door. "Also what are you listening to? Is that TV static?"
"No," calmly says Jules, turning off the TV.
"...Right. Anyway, I was also thinking of going to Denny''s and then hitting the road. How about it?" asks Vincent.
Jules sighs. "Yeah that''s... that''s a good idea. Let me just take a shower and then we can head out."
There Vinny waits, daydreaming how the job will play out.
.
.
.
Present time.
Within the middle of the field, the sound of whirring machinery gets louder. Mikey glances at the glow coming from the ground slowly rising up. There he sees Chad and Jinsei slowly phase into existence.
"Leaving so soon?" asks Mikey.
Hurriedly, Chad and Jinsei run past him. They both thrash through acres of corn towards the vague direction of the road. With ki coursing through their bodies, they sprint out of the dome. As they run, Chad quickly starts up: "When we get there, should we check up on Solomon in person?"
Jinsei responds telepathically, "No. If we need anything we''ll call him. Otherwise, going straight to him might lead the enemy to him. I know he said there''s only two of them, but who knows if there''s more on the ground hiding in plain sight. I''d rather take the risk of being seen and facing two- if not more people, rather than risking anyone getting close to someone as defenseless as Solomon."
"Defenseless? As long as he''s invisible he won''t need to fight."
"And when a sorcerer clears a room with a spell, what then? Are you just going to let him die knowing that we lead them there?"
Chad shoots a concerned glance.
"Don''t give me that look. We don''t know if there''s more than two, or what their abilities are in the first place, so I''m just taking the most secure course of action."
Chad purses his lips before nodding.
"Okay then... with that aside, I''m gonna be honest, I''m a bit rusty. Are you confident with that?"
"I know you''re strong enough for most occasions. If it becomes a problem we''ll quickly retreat."
"Gotcha... one last thing, I know you said you''ll catch up, but are you sure? I don''t want you wasting your ki just for you to get beat up. Since they''re looking for the spike, they''ve gotta be trained."
"Since I''m an all-rounder, you''re technically right in the sense that my ki management is worse than yours. But I''m trained to go for a long while. And more importantly, I already have something up my sleeve."
Jinsei amplifies his ki to the point where he was surpassing Chad''s hurried jog. For the first time, Chad notices two holes in the back of Jinsei''s jacket. Chad asks, "what is it?"
"Do you remember about the artifacts that I stole?"
"Yeah?"
"This is one of them."
With a grand leap, what sounds like a large cluster of magnets clatter endlessly. Jinsei''s silhouette morphs into something greater.
"...I see," says Chad. "Well then, I''ll see you there."
Just as the two of them finally exit the fields, Chad kicks his ki straight to maximum output, and blurs down the road. Not too far behind, Jinsei follows. A flapping noise ensues.
.
.
.
Sixty miles away, Vincent and Jules are in a four star hotel''s room. The door is locked, the blinds are shut, and the light is on. Littering the ground are large clumps of cotton. Ripped pillows, tattered blankets, chair cushions, and bed innards are scattered all across the floor. The closet is destroyed, its shelves laid across the floor. The TV is gutted, with its frame and wires exposed. Both breathing heavily, two agents sit down on the ground. Vincent grits his teeth and squints at the mess. Jule''s blankly stares at the ceiling and breathes out a tired sigh.
Vincent breaks the silence.
"I mean look at this! Who the hell hides a rail road spike this hard? What is wrong with these people, I swear."
"Well...it would be pretty stupid not to."
"Yeah- I get that but, that doesn''t make it any less annoying. I mean jesus man, didn''t you say you wanted to join the spiritual branch to get away from the old jobs? Well then what the hell is this? We''re back at square one. Besides, are you even sure we''re in the right room?"
"Very." Jules pulls out a flip phone. "The radar is very accurate when it comes to these things. It can''t be in the rooms right next to us since the beeping is most prevalent here, and it can''t be the rooms above or below us for the same reasons."
"Well then I don''t know how to tell you but, unless we see a suspiciously spiked-shaped box, it''s not here."
"That''s what I fear. Either they really did hide it well, whether through magic or conventional means, or in a worse case scenario-"
"It''s just the micro-chip."
"Yeah."
"Well, I think you already know what happens if we come back empty-handed."
"I''m aware. But this takes precedence. Whatever we find, we''ll just have to accept it, and worry about the consequences when it comes to that. But for now, I just want to get this going."
Jules gets up, grabs a chair, and looks at the top of the blades of the ceiling fans.
Vinny sighs. "Man, I know you said you''re bored with the past jobs, but why do you care so much anyway? I understand our lives are on the line right now, but even in the past few jobs you''ve been in a hurry. What''s up with that?"
"I just want to earn vacation time as quick as possible. That''s all there is to it."
"I never took you for the vacation type. What happened to just resting at home? We already do enough as is. Do you think that overworking just to go to Vietnam is gonna be worth it?" Vincent pauses before talking under his breathe, "...ok now that I say it out loud, the beaches do seem kinda worth it."
"Vincent." Jules glares at the other agent. "I just want to get out of here as soon as possible. Stop worrying about it and help me out."
Vincent tilts his glasses towards Jules; his gaze meets Jules'' cold, pitch black shades.
All of a sudden, a cold breeze runs through both of them. Through the look, they share the same realization: it isn''t coming from the other agent. Jules gets down from the chair. The sensation is coming through the wall. The steps grow closer. Step. Step. Step. Step. The vibrations ripple through the ground; an ocean of ki overcomes them. Step. Step. Step. Step. The agents'' chests tighten. Together, they clench their fists and slowly reach into their own vests.
Step.
Step.
Step.
A shadow appears underneath the door. Neither the agents or the intruder breathe.
Silence.
THOOM.
Kicking the door down, a chiseled, tall, blonde man wearing triangular shades glances at the two agents. Visible steam emits out of the man''s skin. The cloud of sweat shapes itself into faint swirls that visibly contort the air around him. Stepping into the room, Chad holds his palm up. "Before you do anything stupid-"
Jules and Vincent both whip out their suppressed USP Heckler and Koch pistols, unloading their entire magazines, aiming squarely at Chad''s head and heart.
With a still expression, Chad swipes his hand up and down, catching each and every bullet coming his way.
TNK. TNK. TNK. Both of their pistol''s slides lock open.
Jules starts, "Well,"
"-shit," ends Vinny.
Chad opens his hand, sprinkles all twenty four bullets on the ground and shakes his head. He tilts his head in a disappointed manner. "Mm-mm." Chad notices that the window is behind Jules. With a calm demeanor, Chad walks inside the room and moves out of the way of the door.
Both of the agents look at each other, dropping their guns while flexing as much ki as they possibly can. Their muscles tighten and ripple. Chad crosses his arms and takes a deep breathe.
All three of them stay silent. Vincent and Jules concentrate on Chad. Chad barely pays them any mind, mainly focusing on the window.
"(...why is he concentrating on me?)" Thinks Jules to himself.
Air sits still. Both sides wait for the other to attack. A drop of sweat slides down Vincent''s face. Jules analyzes Chad''s every muscle, twitch fiber, and inch of movement. Vincent initiates a telepathic call with Jules; "(You have the watch, right?)"
"(Yeah. Do you need it?)"
"(For once, I''ll let you have it. I don''t know what this guys up to but, I think with both us jumping him this should be a piece of cake.)"
"(I see. That being said, why is he only staring? I feel like he''s going to go after me first. Wait...)"
As Vincent yells "To hell with this," the window behind Jules bursts. In an instant, a blur dropkicks Jules through the door and into the hallway.
"Jules!" shouts Vincent, before getting shoulder charged straight into the wall by Chad. Just as Jules attempts to get up and see what got him here, Jinsei''s fingers latch onto the back of Jule''s neck. As the doors of other rooms begin to open, Jinsei shoves Jules'' face into the carpet, accelerates down the hall full force, and finishes the agent off by defenestrating him. Jinsei looks at the shocked civilians before pointing at them, snapping his fingers, and expanding a wave of psychopower that makes all of them forget what happened within the last thirty seconds. Jinsei looks out the window.
"One down..."
He pauses, then squints at the victim. The uniforms. The connection to the spike. The fact that the drop kick didn''t kill him, much less concuss him.
"...no..."
Jinsei steps onto the window frame and dives straight down, chasing the agent.
.
.
.
Falling, Jules'' vision skews. Slowly. Surely. The air stops. He stops. Time stops. Afghanistan. Eighteen years old. Or was it sixteen? Time in the military. Was it better back then? I doubt it. Para-trooping was fun... for the most part. So how come I feel like I''m about to die now? ... No. I won''t die. If that were the case, then I at least wouldn''t feel worried.
Time resumes. As Jules plunges down the fortieth story window, he immediately props his watch to his face. "(At best I''ll be close to death, at worst I''ll break something)"
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Adjusting the dial on the watch, he turns it towards one second. As the ground rapidly gets closer, Jules turns his body around to see the night sky. He spreads his limbs in a star shape.
There he sees a winged angel coming straight towards him; its arms reach out.
"Shit."
The figure swerves mid-plummet to catch Jules forty feet above the ground; twirling in midair to prevent the shock from ripping him in half. The ginger figure saves Jules'' life. There, Jules sees the heavenly figure: a ginger Asian man with prescription glasses, wearing a red jacket, black shirt and jeans, orange fingerless gloves, converse shoes, and to top it all off, a man-bun. Upon an up close look, the stranger''s wings are black and reek of iron. Visibly warping its shape with each movement, the feathers on the wings or no more than a physical illusion. The figure grasps Jules by the neck, carrying him higher up in the sky.
With a deadpan tone, Jinsei asks: "you can use magic, can''t you?"
Jules doesn''t answer.
Jinsei tries to read Jules'' mind. Within a split second, Jinsei realizes a problem that he''s never faced before.
It''s easy to read a human''s mind; to read a sorcerer''s mind is much harder, especially if they''re trained to use psychopower at a competent level. Trying to brute force through a trained sorcerer''s mind is technically possible, but hardly worth it, especially if they''re actively defending themselves and disrupting the attempt by fighting back. But the point still stands. Whether it be as hard as kicking down a door or picking open a lock, the sense of difficulty is present.
Taking a glance at Jules'' mind, Jinsei stands before a great wall that stretches far beyond the horizon.
Stunned, Jinsei can''t help but glare at his victim. "So they trained you well."
Jules maintains a straight face, despite his thoughts saying otherwise. He responds by grasping the hands that are on his neck, contorts his body around his assailant''s arm, wraps his legs onto the bicep, pinches his knees together, and pulls his entire body against the arm. Jules successfully applies an armbar on Jinsei.
Wrenching his entire body against the arm, the agent feels it: the limb slowly yet surely bends backwards. From a straight 180 angle, to 175, to 160. The raw ki speeds the process, as the resistance from the arm feels more like jelly than bone. 150. 130. Jules then raises his eyebrow. 120. He''s faced double jointed people before, but this is-
110.
Jinsei scoffs.
"The effort is noted. However," Jinsei then rapidly twists in place, accelerating until he flings Jules off of the arm, launching the agent downwards. "That won''t work on me." With ease, Jinsei contracts his muscles and forcibly snaps his arm back into a rigid state. Jinsei then divekicks straight towards Jules, plummeting his sneaker straight into the victim''s sternum. From the angle they are positioned, Jinsei recognizes one of the buildings from when he traveled through the city earlier; "There." The both of them meteor straight towards the top of an empty factory. Naturally, Jules grasps onto Jinsei''s foot and applies a heel hook. Desperately twisting and twirling the ankle until it contorts to a grim degree, Jinsei blows air out of his nose and mutters something under his breath. "Kudaran"
Recognizing that these attempts at grappling are fruitless, Jules hastily lets go of the foot and tries to push himself to the side.
"Hmph!" grunts Jinsei, seeing the attempt. With vigorous annoyance, the sorcerer accelerates further, crashing down through the roof of the factory. As the dust settles, the sorcerer realizes that the hardness of the floor wasn''t the flattened paste of his victim''s ribcage rather, the concrete ground.
"(Tch. He must''ve successfully slid off to the side right before I crashed.)" Thinks Jinsei. "(Furthermore, that crash just spent a chunk of my ki)," he thinks to himself, feeling the large sting from the impact vibrate from his foot and slowly rise throughout his body. "Now... where are you..." For a couple of seconds, Jinsei hears nothing but the echoes of his own footsteps.
Seeing as how ki manipulates the body, Jinsei fine tunes his ears to listen closely to the ambience. Anything to track Jules. A slight breath. A Nose exhale. Footsteps. The rustling of fabric from his suit. Stunned, Jinsei looks up. "(Nothing?)" He cancels the fine-tuning with his ears and thinks to himself. "(Well then, I knew this niche ability would be useful someday.)"
Utilizing psychopower, Jinsei [Scans] the surrounding area. In an instant, he senses Jules through the wall of the factory, crouching down with his hand on his chest. Originally, the ability is meant to scan people''s emotions, get a vague idea of what''s going on in their heads, and track people down whenever hiding in crowds. Despite Jules'' mental defense being so high, though Jinsei can''t tell what he''s thinking, it still manages to do its purpose in tracking his presence.
Tightening his fist, Jinsei runs up to the wall, bursts his fist through it, grasps onto Jules'' nape, drags him through the wall and throws him back inside the factory.
"Impressive," compliments Jinsei aloud. "I didn''t sense anything from you. And unless they''re teaching you advance ki tactics at your level, what you did wasn''t any ability. So humor me, what was that."
Gasping for air, Jules struggles to slowly stand back up. With one knee on the ground, his hand still on his chest and blood dribbling down his lip, he thinks to himself: "(I need to buy some time...)"
"Back in the military..." huffs Jules, "especially during covert missions...they taught us ways to breathe almost silently..." Jules slowly yet surely rustles for something within his suit.
"And what about the presence of your soul, ki, and psychopower? It takes a long while to mask that. There''s no way they''ve been teaching you since you were children."
"Well for that I... turned them off."
Jinsei blankly stares and blinks.
Jules continues, "well I know you can''t turn off you soul and your mind but, I just tried my hardest to revert them back to the levels of when I started out..." Finally, Jules'' hand grips onto something.
Jinsei tilts his head and asks, "but at the level of a human, your ki wouldn''t save you, and you would''ve died?"
Jules shrugs. "I''m just quick I guess." He tilts his head down, grunts in pain, and closes his eyes.
Silence. Jinsei crosses his arms and squints his eyes with a bored demeanor.
Silence.
CH-K
Underneath Jules'' suit, he pulls a pin. Immediately, Jules chucks a flashbang straight at Jinsei, continuing to close his eyes and turn his head away.
In immediate reaction, Jinsei nonchalantly kicks the flashbang upwards through the hole he came down from. It explodes above them, echoing out a subdued explosion. "I was waiting for that to happen," says Jinsei.
Jules rolls on the ground, covering his ears. "WHAT?" he asks.
Jinsei rolls his eyes. Telepathically communicating, Jinsei responds while walking up to the agent, "I said, I was wait-"
Jules'' bursts from the floor and launches a flurry of rapid boxing combos, trying to catch Jinsei off-guard.
Jinsei, all too aware of the agent''s tricks, expected something like this to happen and parries all of the punches with the grace and form of Chinese Kenpo. Each hand swiftly waves Jules'' hard punches with ease, preventing them from ever hitting their mark.
Who do you work for? Jinsei would ask mid-parry. Jules, refusing the question, instead responds with quicker punches. Lo and behold, the sorcerer would parry and deliver four strikes back. Every time Jinsei kicks, Jules feels the shock throughout his body; blood spills out of his lips. What are your abilities? demands the scion. Eventually, after measuring the timing of each punch that landed on him, Jules catches one of them, and proceeds to do a one arm throw, tossing Jinsei with his own force. Yet, Jinsei, along with his mechanical liquid wings, flow with vigor and ease. A black and red ichor that plops down safely, Jinsei returns the favor and uses the momentum that was just used against him to toss Jules onto his back. A mighty crash thunders throughout the factory as Jules slams flat onto the pavement.
"(What the hell)," thinks Jules to himself as blood gurgles out of his mouth. The force of his and Jinsei''s own weight vibrates throughout his body. "(Why is he moving so weird? He''s so loose. So... fluid. It''s like I''m fighting a damn octopus)."
Jules struggles to get up and limps towards Jinsei. He decides to throw a punch. And then another. And then another. If he parries this punch, then simply duck and counter. If he parries that punch, then sidestep and hook. If he parries that one, simply throw another. And another. And another. But no matter what, Jules refuses to stop, solidifying one thought in his head: "If I stop, I die."
After eight parries, Jinsei slips his hand to measure one inch away from Jules'' sternum, and unloads his split second strike. He yells as he unleashes his ki.
"??????????!"
[FA-JIN] One-inch-punch.
Instantaneously, the force of Jinsei''s strike transmits past Jules'' skin and crushes Jules'' ribs.
Jules'' instantaneously keels over, holding his chest.
"Good," responds Jinsei at the sight of Jules. "Now, who are you and who do you work for?"
Jules refuses to respond, concentrating on mustering up all of his ki possible.
"You mentioned you''re in the military and you were involved in covert ops before. You know magic for sure, or are at least aware of it. And you know how to at least use ki. There''s a chance you''re with the FBI, but due to the situation with the railroad spike, and unless the government is handing out instructions to every agency like candy, I highly doubt that. So look at me. Blink once if you work for the CIA. Blink twice if you work for someone else. If you utter any other word I will kill you on the spot."
As he monologues, Jinsei thinks within himself, "(there''s also a chance he doesn''t work for the CIA. Now that I think about it, there were other people back in the underground who wore suits, so either its a coincidence, or more likely-)" His eyes light up. "(The salesman! They mentioned the CIA was missing their property. So though there''s a low chance that this is all a coincidence, there''s a 99% chance that this is a CIA agent...)" He smiles. "(I can work with this. For now, I just need him to comply.)"
Standing, Jinsei awaits for Jules'' response. Jules in turn, sluggishly rises up, with his hand tucked inside his suit.
Jinsei scoffs. "Oh what now? Don''t tell me you plan on using another flashbang."
Jules proceeds to pull out a large knife out of his vest.
"Oh?" says Jinsei with a sarcastic tone. "We already know how this well end. But by all means, do your worst."
"(I''ve already won)," thinks Jinsei to himself. "(Anything other than his compliance is a waste of-)"
Jules proceeds to switch the dial on his wrist watch to 3 seconds.
He then plunges the knife straight into his head, and with the last milliseconds of autonomy, pulls the knife out. He stands there, inching towards death. His heart beat gets slower, slower, and slower, until it reaches near the state of flatlining.
Jinsei simply stands there and blankly stares.
"What the fuck"
.
.
.
CH-K
After three seconds, a bright light beams out of the wrist watch. Instantaneously, all of the bruises, scars, marks, and fractures that were inflicted upon Jules reverts back to his condition three minutes ago. In other words, Jules'' body reverts back to how it was in the hotel: perfectly fine. As the deep gash upon Jules'' head sucks itself back to normal in real time, Jules calmly pulls out earbuds from his vest pocket.
Jinsei''s eye twitches. "(So it seems their technology department isn''t too bad either)," thinks Jinsei to himself.
After securing his earbuds, Jules'' bursts straight towards Jinsei, cocking his left hand in the air as if to aim for an over-telegraphed haymaker. Jinsei simply puts his right arm up, expecting to block the most obvious attack in history. At the last second, Jules changes his hand from a fist to a grip, clutching onto Jinsei''s arm. Jules then pulls the arm closer to him to get into grappling range. Jinsei rolls his eyes as he comments, "you already know where this will g-"
"To answer your question, yes," interrupts Jules.
CLINK
Jinsei looks down to the hand he wasn''t paying attention to. With his right hand, Jules shoves a flashbang straight into Jinsei''s cheek.
BANG
Jinsei immediately falls to the floor and screams, echoing throughout the factory.
Jules lets go of his grip on the sorcerer and thinks to himself, "(something tells me if I try to beat him while he''s blind and deaf, he''ll find a way to kill me using only his sense of touch. Not to mention, flashbangs only last so long. I know I won''t win this fight so instead I''ll just make a contract. For the next thirty seconds, I will not hurt this man with my bare hands; in turn, this will temporarily grant me enhanced speed. Now, I just need to call hq and Vinny about the situation.)" Mustering up his refreshed ki, Jules beams out of the factory towards the vague direction of where the hotel was.
Ringing ears and white vision, Jinsei doesnt feel anything. A minute passes until Jinsei finally registers that he was screaming. Finally getting his bearings straight, with blurred vision and droning tinnitus, Jinsei scans the nearby area for the agent. Within four seconds, he grimaces and rushes towards the vague direction of his opponent.
Slowly yet surely, the edge of the city comes closer. The bustling streets and typical civilians go on to their nightly activity. Traffic is live yet loose, friends walk and talk, and the traffic lights are lenient tonight. The louder the city is, the more secure Jules feels. "(At least this way he''ll have a harder time of attacking since it might risk causing attention)," thinks Jules to himself. He then rummages around within his suit. "I''m pretty sure I dropped it in here somewhere..." A couple seconds later, he whips out his phone and calls Vincent. Jules frantically paces around, eventually walking up to the edge of the curb, where several vehicles are speeding by. "Come on Vincent... pick up the ph-"
"BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system. 555-555-2015 is not available. At the tone, please record your message."
Jules clicks his tongue. "God damn it. Well at least base will res-"
Jules then feels a very apparent presence behind him. As if knowing full well he is under the scope of an assassin, or marked for death by a bear, he slowly turns around.
Ten meters away, a very pissed off looking Jinsei stands there with his hands in his pockets. His amorphous wings slither and warp close to its host''s back.
The denizens are none the wiser of the powers at play. (Risking being seen is too much of an issue)," thinks Jinsei to himself. (Though expensive, its well worth it.)
Expanding a psychic field of ten meters, Jinsei shaves off a chunk of his mind. In turn, all the typical humans pause what they were doing and simply stand. The scion walks past the limp statues and stares at his opponent; Jules still stands there, fists clenched. They get up close to each other. A staredown so heavy the air contorts. Seeing as how hes taken initiative each time, and playing defensively was better than rushing after him, Jinsei waits for his opponent to do something. For what feels like hours, they stand there, waiting. The agent, too busy within his own mind whereas the sorcerer is too concentrated on his opponents body; every muscle, every twitch fiber, every follicle. (Every cell tells the intent of your ki), thinks Jinsei, remembering the Chinese texts he read when he was younger.
For a majority of the fight, Jinsei has been using a Ki trait not trained by many sorcerers: [Fluidity]. Though trainable, this manipulation of ki is found within Chinese texts that even predate the Ordinance Academy''s Modified Vajrayana Arts. Where as most Ki traits hone the strength and durability, or speed of the body, [Fluidity] allows Jinsei to move past those (in comparison), rigid movements. All of his movements are extremely fluid, allowing him to disperse impacts that connect with him, control the flow of his and his opponent''s movements, swiftly move his body around attacks, and utilize the most prized technique within Chinese martial arts: [Fa-jin].
Both of them calculate each other''s moves. If he does this, then I''ll do this. He has a habit of doing this, so I will counter with this. Diagrams atop diagrams of how the fight will play out. Despite his endurance, Jinsei begins to sweat. After several hundred outcomes were thought up in each other''s head, Jules rushes in. As Jinsei backs away, the agent grabs ahold of his opponents jacket cuffs. Expecting this, Jinsei deduces what Jules was going for: hes trying to launch me with my clothes. With a concentrated stare, Jinsei goes with the flow, preparing to use the force against Jules yet again.
Jules, with the most measured amount of force that hes ever exerted in his entire life, launches Jinsei two feet behind him. As if twirling a plastic bag of groceries, or playing with a child, the sorcerer gently lands on the ground.
...What? He indeed concentrated on the opponents ki perfectly. He countered every physical move that hit him. He felt every vibration, intent, and biological function, voluntarily or otherwise, within Jules. And yet.
With a confused look, Jinsei asks, What are yo-
THWACK
A bus crashes into Jinsei, before hitting other vehicles with lessened force. Audible crackles and crunches emit from under the bus, alongside some muffled shrieks.
After the crash, Jinseis field of psychopower deactivates, waking every civilian up. The ocean of metal upon Jinseis back splatters all across the ground in a pool of mercury.
Jules cracks his neck and readjusts his vest; "Hmph." Without saying a word, Jules quickly sprints back towards the direction of the hotel.
Minutes later, clawing at the ground, the sorcerer emerges from under the bus, bruised and bloodied. Several fractures, yet still commanding his body to move through sheer will and ki. It shouldve only hit my right side but due to the nature of the flow Jinsei grunts before bending over, retching out saliva and blood. He then realizes the weakness of [Fluidity]. Shocked civilians crowd around the sorcerer. A cavalcade of humans and their phones barrage him with Are you hurt? Halleluyah! and "Holy fuck!" With a look of ire, Jinsei recalls the sea of metal upon his back, and expands his field once again.
Shut. Up.
He snaps his fingers. All of the humans freeze once again. With telekinesis, he collects every phone within his vicinity and clumps them all into a ball of scrap and wires. Hurriedly, he then limps towards a nearby park where he sits on a bench. He desperately whips out his phone and calls Chad.
"BRRR. BRRR. BRRR- Jinsei? I''m uh... a little busy here."
"Whatever you do," hisses Jinsei, "do not kill the agent. We need them."
Through the line, Chad audibly sucks in some air.
"What is it?"
"No it''s um. Umm... Nah, don''t worry, I got this. By the way are you good? You don''t sound-"
"MY FUCKING LUNGS ARE COLLAPSED" yells Jinsei through a pained rasp. "Detain the agent but don''t kill him. I just let one get away and I''m going to get him now. Make sure they don''t find Solomon. We''ll figure out where to meet up later. Don''t fuck up."
Jinsei hangs up. He clutches onto his phone, almost shattering the device. Saliva begins to drool out of the corners of his mouth. "That fucking cretin... That damn ignorant American." He mutters to himself. "Everyone just has the fucking GALL to get in my way. Don''t they know I''m doing this for them? To get back Kai-... everyone. Wouldn''t humanity want to see their loved ones again? These people. These... INGRATES. Nevermind that... I have a rat to hunt down."
Instead of enforcing [Fluidity], Jinsei forces his ki for durability while using telekinesis to hold his body together, actively puppetting himself. He gets up and flies up high in the sky.
"Where are you?"
『Chapter 12: 』The hands that assure victory
3 AM. Outside a four star hotel, the night is warm and humid. The street lights blare an orange tinge. Scant amount of people are still roaming around the core of the city, while most are asleep.
Opposite to the four star hotel, another hotel stands. Within a damp bedroom, Solomon peers through the window, tightly gripping the railroad spike in one hand. His hands tremble.
.
.
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"Jules!" shouts Vincent, before getting shoulder charged straight into the wall by Chad. As Jules gets dragged face-first across the hallway by his assailant, Chad uses his forearm to pin Vincent''s neck to the wall. Chad then hammers Vincent''s stomach with non-stop gut punches. For a couple of minutes straight, the other denizens of the hotel hear the agent''s grunts of "OUGH" "OOF" and "GUUHH"s. Chad then thinks to himself: "(I''ve been wailing on him for a bit now...Most people would be dead, and even other sorcerers would get knocked out by now. But this guy''s just eating all my punches. No way this guy''s ability is to soak up damage...)"
Briefly, Chad stops and glares at Vincent while asking a question: "Don''t tell me you just trained for defense."
Vincent responds by spitting on Chad''s face. Chad grimaces. The pounding continues, this time with louder, audible crunches each time a fist lands on Vincent''s ribs. The flesh swells for a split second before getting flattened back down. The vibration of the punches ripple across the point of impact before welling all over the rest of Vincent''s body, slowly yet surely frying Vincent''s sense of touch. From sting, to ache, and eventually, a pain so great it enflames to numbness.
Even after Jinsei''s telepathic ability to make them temporarily forget, some tenants wake up from their momentary paralysis and storm over to the room. They then notice the cold breeze coming from the hallway''s broken window, a thrashed open door, and Chad pummeling Vincent in a messy room. Chad hears the footsteps.
The sorcerer looks back while keeping his pin on Vincent''s neck. Through his triangular shades, Chad''s eyes pierce the other tenants. Chad quietly yet clearly states "If you know what''s good for you, you will walk away." Despite the anger of the tenants being very apparent, the same sentiment alarms all across their bodies on a biological, predator-to-prey level. No matter their attempts to scream and punch and kick and yell, their muscles freeze and quietly walk back to their rooms, awaiting for the ruckus to end.
Taking the opportunity to fight back against the distracted Chad, Vincent quickly knees Chad''s groin.
Chad slowly turns his head back towards Vincent. Chad is not pleased.
Vincent immediately puts his thumb right under Chad''s nose. For a split second, a spark lights up. Letting go of the agent, Chad stumbles back, holding his nose. He smells carbonated, burnt hair.
Vincent dusts himself before raising his arms in a combat stance. "Really?" Starts the agent, with blood trailing down his lips. "That hurt, but a knee to the balls didn''t?"
Chad, covering his nose, responds: "You don''t exactly train nose hairs, you know."
"Tch." Vincent tilts his head and smirks, wiping the blood off his mouth. "Whatever the case, there''s one reason I''ll win and one reason alone." He flicks his right hand open, as if sparking an imaginary lighter; a small flame flickers up with the point of his thumb. "Magic."
Chad''s eyes narrow, twitching. The swirls in the air contort to an even greater degree.
The air then freezes, before he lets out a sigh. "No need to flex... just gotta get this over with..."
"No need to flex? Do you know who you''re talking to?" Snarkily responds Vincent.
"I wasn''t talking to you."
Chad clenches his fists, cocks one arm and sends out a haymaker, intending to thrash Vincent''s head into a red mist.
Vincent ducks and shoots a quick hook towards Chad''s liver, before sending a right uppercut directly to the chin. Vincent''s fist stops in its tracks right as it hits Chad''s chin.
Chad''s eyes pierce through his sunglasses, looking down at Vincent. "Not bad," commends the sorcerer.
Vincent, already backed into a corner tries to circle around the sorcerer, before being denied with Chad''s threatening reach.
As Vincent panics, Chad ponders in his head. "(Those punches weren''t half bad. I still feel his prowess in ki, even it didn''t affect me that much. Nevertheless, I''m toying with my food, and that''s no good. Time to finish this.)"
"(God damn,)" thinks Vincent to himself. "(All I can really do is use this rinky-dinky fire spell that acts as a lighter. I have to find a way that-)"
In a blur, Chad grabs Vincent''s face and shoves it straight through the insulation, towards the brick wall. Vincent''s vision skews, as he sees the blurred image of Chad pummeling him with punches and kicks, driving him further into the wall. With intense concentration, Vincent focuses on Chad''s limbs, one by one, as they trail towards Vincent''s body.
Chad feels it; every strike he throws suddenly feels as if the limb is underwater. The weight of the punch or kick is being slowed down just as he''s about to throw it. Chad pauses.
He points at Vincent; "You''re using telekinesis to slow down my strikes right as I throw them."
Vincent wheezes, silently panicking as he thinks up a new plan. Blood dribbles down his brow, lips, and all over his now popped hematomas. Chad continues.
"Clever. However-"
Drastic times call for drastic measures. Chad, in his stance, puts his back foot even farther. From a fighting stance to a runner''s stance.
"I''m going to finish you-"
Vincent pieces together what''s about to happen. "Oh no," says the agent. Vincent immediately protects the back of his head with his hands, enforcing a majority of his ki to protect the nape and hands.
"Now."
"Wait wait wait waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaITWAITWAITWAITWAITWAITWAITWAITWAITWA-"
Chad fully sprints forward, catching Vincent''s neck with his arm, crashing through the brick wall, RKO-ing the agent. Plummeting towards the ground, Vincent screams while Chad holds his serious expression. "ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZ-ACK" yells Vincent, before getting his neck tightened by Chad''s bicep.
Panicking, Vincent rummages through the inside of his vest. He feels the metallic outline of a flashbang; no good. He feels the leather taped grip of a baseball bat; not now. He feels a cold, steel button; this''ll do for now. He whips out a grip with a button on the top of it, and presses it with his thumb. Instantly, Vincent is gone and is replaced with something else.
Feeling the texture go from "annoying jackass" to "something rough" Chad slowly looks over to what is now in his arms.
A limp ragdoll flails in the air, getting choked by Chad''s muscles.
"Tch." An annoyed grunt escapes Chad''s lips.
Seeing as how there is less than .8 seconds until Chad and the ragdoll meet the ground, Chad let''s go of the ragdoll and spreads his body out like a star. Timing it correctly, Chad braces for impact and for a split second, maximizes his ki output. The sorcerer crashes onto a Black Honda Civic, flattening the entire car while making a Chad shaped indent on its roof. The car alarm wails. Chad''s back stings but thankfully, minimized the damage as much as possible. Chad stares into the stars, contemplating about the situation. Meanwhile, 10 feet away, on the road, the doll switches back to Vincent, who''s on all fours panting and sweating, trying to breathe in as much as possible before getting up.
Chad looks over at the agent. "Shit."
Vincent looks over at the sorcerer. "Shit."
"Oh my god!" yells a passerby. Both the agent and the sorcerer look towards the pedestrian. A twenty year old man standing there, frozen, stammering. "A-A-Are you okay?"
Both Chad and Vincent think up the same thing: "this is bad." Witnesses were bad enough inside the hotel, but outside is an entirely new level of unwanted attention for the both of them.
Chad then props up an answer within three seconds. He gets up from the car and jumps onto the road, showing the stranger he''s fine. "We''re shooting a movie."
"Oooh. Okay." The stranger silently pauses before continuing. "...Can I be in it?"
"No," respond both Chad and Vincent. Chad then turns back to Vincent.
THWACK
Chad is greeted by the full swing of a cold, ki-infused steel baseball bat cracking him in the face. The sorcerer stumbles backwards holding his face. He looks down at his hand; he cups a puddle of blood. His nose doesn''t stop gushing. His upper lip feels numb. A tooth comes out.
"Yeah see? That''s how I feel," shouts Vincent. "Doesn''t feel so good right? Like- who does that? No seriously, what made you think ''oh yeah we''re like 40 something stories high, let me toss him out the building!'' Fuck you dude."
Chad grimaces. The car alarm is still going off. He notices the lights of the hotel windows turn on. This isn''t good. "(I have to finish this quickly.)"
Chad coldly walks over to Vincent. Vincent hits Chad over and over again, but without a complete wind up, they do little more than cause small bruises against Chad''s flesh.
"Wait wait wait," stammers Vincent. "We can work-"
Chad immediately lowers down and uses both of his hands to latch onto Vincent''s right shin, firmly grasping onto it like a baseball bat. He then harshly yanks it back and spins, making Vincent fall, before being held in mid-air. Chad then spins and spins and spins, rotating even harder, faster. Like in the Olympic hammer throw, Chad leans back and spins for momentum, before looking up at his target: the night sky. "There."
"SERIOUSLY WHAT''S YOUR PROBLE-"
Revving up as fast as he can, Chad looks over at the sky. HEAVE. HO.
"WAIT NONONO-" Letting go, Vincent''s limp body launches out of Chad''s grip, flailing in the air as his body becomes harder to see, before making a sparkle and ding in the sky.
Chad brushes off his hands. "That takes care of that." He then turns to the car and punches a hole past the engine where the honking noise was coming from, silencing the car. That''s two down. He then turns to the stranger still looking at awe. "Then there''s three."
The stranger still stands there, admiring the muscle bound sorcerer 10 feet away from him. "You guys have very convincing visual effects."
"Yeah." Chad walks over to the stranger, readying to clap the man''s skull into paste before-
RING RING RING RING
Chad looks at his pocket, confused. RING RING RING RING
It''s his phone. "(This guy can wait...)" thinks Chad to himself, still standing in front of the stranger. He whips the phone out; it''s Jinsei.
"BRRR. BRRR. BRRR- Jinsei? I''m uh... a little busy here."
"Whatever you do," hisses Jinsei, "do not kill the agent. We need them."
Chad audibly sucks in some air. He silently facepalms before mouthing the word "fuuuuuuck."
"What is it?"
"No it''s um. Umm... Nah, don''t worry, I got this. By the way are you good? You don''t sound-"
"MY FUCKING LUNGS ARE COLLAPSED" yells Jinsei, peaking the phone''s microphone; Chad is taken aback by the phone''s loud messy quality. "Detain the agent but don''t kill him. I just let one get away and I''m going to get him now. Make sure they don''t find Solomon. We''ll figure out where to meet up later. Don''t fuck up."
*CLICK*
Chad looks at his phone confused.
"...Well that was a little rude..." The sorcerer then looks over towards the vague direction of where he just threw the agent. He then looks back at the stranger. Then back towards the night sky. He then sighs. "But then I''d have to clean that up too..." He turns back towards the stranger and says "you didn''t see me." He lowers himself in a sprinter''s position, and within three seconds, bursts forward in a blur, vanishing in the night, swerving from one road to the next, passing through alleys, jumping from wall to wall, escaping the city towards the highway, and from highway, straight towards the fields that spanned for miles on end.
The stranger stands there and says to himself, looking for movie cameras: "...wait was I supposed to say a line?"
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Flying up above, Jinsei [scans] the city, looking for his target.
.
.
.
Walking underneath scaffolding, Jules hides in the shade out of precaution. Even if one of them just got crushed by a bus, who knows if another sorcerer were to pop out of nowhere. He takes his phone out and calls Vincent.
RING RING RING RING. RING RING RING RING.
No response.
"Shit." Whispers Jules under his breath. He then calls a different number instead.
RING RING RING RING. RING RING RING RING.
A woman speaks up. "CIA headquarters; state your ID-"
"Melinda, its urgent."
"...Jules?"
"Yes. I''m in the middle of a mission. Vincent and I have both been compromised by sorcerers. I don''t know how they know we''re here, or what organization they''re with, but we need back up. I''ve tried calling Vincent but he''s not picking up. Make sure to track our coordinates and-"
A cold shiver. Jules feels it. The loud presence. As if knowing a bird of prey is watching from up above, or a tiger is merely a couple feet away, waiting to pounce. He slowly turns around.
Standing in the middle of the empty street, is Jinsei, crossing his arms. Blood drips down his brow. Parts of his jacket and skin is torn. Visible cuts and scratches tatter the majority of his being. Yet, with his cracked glasses in tact, and an annoyed expression, Jinsei patiently waits.
"...Jules....Jules?" calls out Melinda.
"I''ll call you back."
Jules hangs up and pockets the phone.
"You''re alive." Says Jules, starting to circle around Jinsei.
"You''re one to talk." Responds the sorcerer, walking the opposite direction.
Jules stays silent.
Jinsei starts. "Let''s find some place that''s a lot quieter. I believe its in both of our best interest to not be seen by people."
Jules tilts his head and grimaces. "Fair eno-"
In an instant, Jinsei uses his wings to circle around Jules, and grasps onto the back of the agent''s neck. Diving forwards mid-flight, Jinsei veers towards the ground, dragging the front of the agent''s body towards the asphalt road. Jules, bracing for impact, holds his forearms up and protects his face. Within seconds, his suit worsens at the same rate as his ki chips off. Two streaks of blood and ripped asphalt elongate as the agent gets dragged across the ground.
Meanwhile, Jinsei''s eyes dart around the cityscape looking for the best place to fight. The park? "(No; even if its the dead of night that''s still too much of a risk. Any tall building is a no go for obvious reasons. And I don''t want a repeat of what happened in the factory.)" Eventually reaching the edge of the city where smaller shops are located, he spots the perfect place: a bakery with a majority of the setting being red.
Ending the rocky ride, Jinsei, still carrying Jules with one hand, throws the agent towards the giant glass window with all of the pastries still in display. Jules rolls as he lands on the floor, immediately using the momentum to stand back up. He reaches into his vest and grabs a black wristband, as well as two daggers. He quickly slaps the wristband on. "(I finally figured you out,)" thinks Jules to himself.
"(Throughout the previous fight he depends too much on his fluid motions. But seeing my hypothesis from earlier work, his fluid motions would also imply the same weakness as squishy solids. No matter how much you disperse my impacts, and no matter how slippery you are:
A. Even if you can disperse the damage, if its big enough (like a bus), it''ll be too much to the point where spreading it becomes a detriment.
B. Slashing attacks would still work on you.
Right now, I still have to test out B. but for the most part, I''ve got him figured out)".
Jinsei jumps through the broken glass window and takes off his red jacket. He looks at Jules. The agent is stanced up, awaiting for Jinsei to attack. The sorcerer furrows his brow.
"(I''ll admit it,)" thinks Jinsei to himself. "(You won earlier because I underestimated you; I''ll accept that. But for you to repeat my mistake-)"
All of the red immediately leaves the jacket as it becomes a pitch black version of itself. Red ink crawls up Jinsei''s hand.
"How disappointing."
[Heart-wrencher]
He drops the jacket and goes into a javelin throwing position. In an instant, the red ink morphs into a ball, and then fashions itself into a long sharp spear. Jinsei launches the makeshift weapon straight towards Jules'' chest.
Caught off-guard, Jules barely sidesteps the projectile in time. Unfortunately for the agent, Jinsei keeps up the pressure by gliding and dropkicking Jules in the chest. Jules is pushed back; Jinsei stares at his opponent. The sorcerer then takes off the hair tie keeping up his manbun, and lets his long orange hair flow. The moonlight behind the broken display illuminates his being. The air contorts not in swirls, but rather, in the formation of hands; hands aiming towards Jules'' neck. With big waving motions, Jinsei circles his arms in a kung fu stance, before crashing his foot down, shaking the entire room. "HOUSS."
Even if it''s only a display of power rather than a tangible attack, Jinsei knows the importance of psychological warfare, and connecting the body''s motions with the soul''s intent.
Jules, shaken, but not stirred, ignores the pressure. With his daggers in hand, he walks closer to Jinsei. Jinsei, keeping his kenpo stance, inches closer as well. The two meet up in the middle, wrist to wrist, blade to hand. They stand there for what feels like hours, awaiting for the other to strike. Jules stares at Jinsei''s chest; Jinsei stares at Jules'' soul.
The air sits still.
.
.
.
"(Now.)"
"(?????!")
Jules tries to slit Jinsei''s wrist, going for a combination of small, quick slicing maneuvers, before getting parried and slapped away with minimal movements. Jules feints a slice with one hand, before thrusting forward with the other dagger, aiming for Jinsei''s head. Yet Jules clearly sees Jinsei''s head distort and swirl around the knife. "What?" Says Jules, flabbergasted. The agent redirects the knife outwards to at least slash Jinsei''s cheek. It works, at the cost of receiving a meaty elbow to the nose.
Jules stumbles back a bit, ignoring the fresh bruise on his face. Jinsei wipes away the blood on his cheek with his thumb; the blood is gone. The sorcerer then makes a quick flicking motion towards Jules'' left arm. Jules looks down but doesn''t see or feel anything. Jinsei then makes the universal "come over here" motion with his hand.
"Come back."
Jules stands there, staring at the sorcerer. The agent doesn''t feel anything. "(...If this is a Psychopower attack, either he sucks, or he''s simply baiting me.)"
"No," responds, Jules.
Walking forward, Jinsei lowers his head and stares at Jules. Just as Jules'' right foot takes another step backwards, he feels something catch onto his foot. He looks down and sees: A glob of red.
"I wasn''t talking to you," assures Jinsei
Confused, it takes only a second for Jules to realize what this thing is. "(The spear!)"
Immediately, the red blob clutches onto Jules'' foot and sticks itself to the ground. Jinsei slithers forward, readying an attack. Jules knows that any supernatural resource has to be economical. So either he maximizes his ki for a short moment to rip this thing off of the ground, or he uses as little as possible to spare more ki for the fight. Yanking his foot with all his might yet as little ki as possible, the red matter stretches to a tar-like consistency, refusing to let go of the agent''s foot. Meanwhile, Jinsei circles around and hammers a punch towards Jules'' kidney. Jules tries to retaliate with long, out-stretched slices. But with Jules'' leg stuck on the ground, Jinsei merely leans back an inch, evading any danger, and kicks the knife up, out of the agent''s hand. Jinsei then snatches the knife mid-air.
"Shit," mutters Jules.
Jinsei steps to the side and backs out, nearing the kitchen area. He then proceeds to grab a bag of flour and throws it at Jinsei. White dust engulfs the room, blinding the agent. Jules, still stuck to the ground, frantically takes off his sunglasses, yet the cloud of flour still blurs his vision.
Jules thinks to himself. "(My ki, magic, and psychpower sensing skills are still at a novice''s level, so the only thing I can rely on is my intellect. The obvious answer to where he would come from would be-)"
He turns around; "(my most obvious blindspot!)"
Jinsei bursts forth from the cloud, raising the dagger. Seeing as how dodging is out of the question, Jules holds his hand up. In the same instant Jinsei drives the dagger down onto Jules, Jules turns off the ki running in his hand. Jules'' hand is then skewered straight in the middle of the palm. Jules then reactivates the ki in his now punctured hand, and clutches onto the knife for dear life. Confused, Jinsei tries to yank his hand back, yet Jules'' grip won''t budge. Jules shoots out a quick weak knee to Jinsei''s liver with his free leg before bringing it back down to stand on. Both of them feel the impact disperse and spread out across Jinsei''s body.
"(He''s still in his squishy state- which means I can do this.)"
Just as Jinsei retaliates with a kick, Jules swiftly brings his other hand up with the knife, infuses it with ki and slices Jinsei''s wrist in an attempt to chop the hand off.
[FA-JI-]
"AAGH-"
Jinsei''s kick cracks at Jules'' ribs, aiming to rupture the left lung. But due to being attacked at the same time, this causes Jinsei to misfire the [Fa-jin] kick and the force is instead transmitted towards the left shoulder. As for Jules, he performs the best attack in this situation. Due to [Fluidity]''s nature of trading durability for energy dispersal and turning the practitioner into a malleable, slippery person, that would mean its main weakness would be against any cuts that would be able to graze the user. Not only did Jules successfully infuse the blade with his ki, but he also beats Jinsei in compatibility. Due to his current nature as a half and half ki and sorcery user contrast against Jinsei''s all-rounder nature, this means Jules'' ki is technically stronger than Jinsei''s ki. However, one significant thing holds Jules back compared to Jinsei.
Experience.
No matter how quick Jules was able to grasp the nature of these abilities, it all pales in comparison to years of practical application.
Being held together only by a string of muscle and a noodle of cartilage-like bone, Jinsei''s durability, even while still using [Fluidity], barely manages to hold his hand together.
For a split second, Jules looks up, straight into Jinsei''s face. He is met with fresh bloodshot eyes and saliva frothing through Jinsei''s ravenous teeth.
"Insect," snarls Jinsei, before continuing: "pop."
[Heart-wrencher]
All of a sudden, something sharp goes through Jules'' bicep and tricep. The agent glances down; he sees an impossibly thin red needle go through his arm.
"Crawl," commands Jinsei oncemore. The warping, mercurial wings upon Jinsei''s back then condense themselves into a metal liquid, crawling up Jinsei''s arm, down the half-torn wrist, then back up Jules'' hand and eventually up Jules'' neck. The sorcerer, with his hand dangling by sinew and squishy bone, lets go of the dagger and takes a couple steps back.
Too distracted with the metallic object crawling up his body to wonder how the needle landed on his arm, Jules desperately grasps onto the metal... to no avail. Every time he tries to get a hold of the metal, each clump disperses into smaller fragments of grey dust. Slowly yet surely, he feels the grasp of the metal ease in tighter and tighter, choking him.
Eight feet away, Jinsei touches the red and black tiles of the ground. He infuses a bit of magic into the ground, before the red tiles rise up and crawl up his mangled hand. As the red connects his wrist back together, Jinsei thinks to himself: "(It''s a good thing he didn''t realize the needle I flicked at at his shoulder earlier... not that it helped much anyway, but it doesn''t hurt to have him affected by it.)" He looks at his reconnected hand, as the red finishes stitching the hand back together. He opens and closes his fingers; "(It''s uncomfortable but it will do for now.)" He then turns back to Jules, who is struggling for his life. "(But now, this is checkma-)"
Jules, struggling to breathe, realizes the crucial nature of the situation. "(If I don''t escape out of this metal, even if I concentrate all of my ki into my neck for defensive purposes, I will die. I don''t have a magnet, and rummaging for a taser is too much of a risk since I don''t know how the metal works. The only thing I can do now is-)"
Rushing forward, Jules puts his hand on his black wristband.
"(Seven seconds.)"
Jules puts up his hands, feigning a peek-a-boo style approaches as he runs towards the sorcerer.
"(I have seven seconds to kill him before the metal chokes me.)"
Jinsei, seeing the agent bursting towards him, prepares to parry a punch. "How insolent can you be?" Scoffs Jinsei.
Pulling a metal hook from his wristband, Jules feints a punch, and immediately flips over Jinsei, revealing what the wristband actually is: A garrote wire. Catching Jinsei''s neck as Jinsei tries to parry the nonexistent punch, Jules lands on the ground behind Jinsei and immediately pulls with all of his remaining ki. "(Pull,)" thinks Jules to himself; "(PULL.)" Slouching his back while flexing his muscles, Jules carries all of Jinsei''s weight on his back while putting all of the pressure on the sorcerer''s neck. A harrowing "HACGCK" comes out of Jinsei''s mouth. The ki amplified steel wire cuts into Jinsei''s gelatin skin. Even with the caught fingers trying to push back against the wire, both the neck and fingers bleed, cutting deeper, second by second. Jinsei gargles loudly; Jules makes the most of his last breathe of air. Both wrestle for consciousness.
"(I...have to...cut his carotid...)" thinks Jules, inching closer towards blanking out.
Jinsei on the other hand kicks in the air. "(NO,)" he thinks to himself, gargling. The taste of blood becomes very apparent; his vision gets darker. "(NONONONONONONO. ALL OF THIS. ALL OF MY TIME. MY MOURNING. TO BRING BACK KAI, JUNO, EVERYONE. TO SOLVE THE UNFAIR SYSTEM OF LIFE. ALL MY EFFORT...)" A tear goes down Jinsei''s eye. "(TO END LIKE THIS.)"
SPLASH
All of the metal around Jules'' neck lets go; microscopic beads rain down on the ground. For a split second, he feels Jinsei''s body go limp. He takes that split second to loosen his grip and focus on breathing as much air as possible.
In that split second of unconsciousness, Jinsei''s body feels the string loosen up. In just a split second, Jules slips up.
With a gasp, Jinsei cancels [fluidity] and maximizes his ki''s output. "NO." gargles Jinsei; "I refuse". Latching onto the wire with his half-cut fingers, Jinsei flexes his own back to unslouch Jules'' back and lands on the ground. With the the maximized durability, using his fingers and neck muscles, Jinsei tugs forward, flipping Jules back in front of him. Jules lands on one knee. The agent looks up-
CRUNCH
A meaty knee greets Jules'' face. Not letting his ki go to waste, Jinsei rushes the staggering Jules, grabs his hair with one hand and with the other, punches the agent''s body upwards. The punch itself is so strong, it launches Jules off the ground. Then Jinsei alternates with another punch. And another, and another, carrying him up foot by foot in the air, well above Jinsei''s own head. Unlike [fluidity] which has strikes that aim to pass through the body, the regular application of ki sledges the surface of Jules'' skin, chipping away at his ribs despite the ki coursing through his body. As the agent gets comboed mid-air, he sees his assailant''s face for a split second: a spitting image of a determined, inhumane creature, filled with nothing but malice, and self-righteousness. Just as Jinsei finishes carrying Jules'' body up the air, Jinsei strikes a Chinese kung fu stance, yelling "HO." In slow motion, Jules'' half-conscious vision sees Jinsei transition from the stance into a sideways shoulder-charge typical of Chinese kenpo. "SHIAO!"
Jules is then launched across the bakery, splatting flat against the wall, before slumping down to the ground.
The sorcerer slowly walks up to Jules'' body. "Just for good measure," mutters Jinsei, before sending one last kick to Jules'' chin, surely rocking the agent''s brain by now. Finally, Jules lies there, unconscious.
Jinsei sits down on the ground, across Jules'' body. Breathing heavily, he lets of the telekinesis that was keeping his body together. "Return." The shapeshifting pool of metal eagerly slithers back to its owner. "Wings." The metal then latches onto the sorcerer''s body, retaking its usual shape. Jinsei then rummages through Jules'' pockets, eventually finding the agent''s phone. "I''ll be needing this." He then picks up Jules'' limp body and walks out of the bakery. "For someone who''s clearly a novice," says Jinsei. "You are... really annoying to fight." Jinsei''s ki drops to a minimum, nearing human levels. He then lets his wings do a majority of the lifting, flying back up to the sky.
.
.
.
A couple miles away, in the fields outside the city, a ragdoll comes plummeting down, rustling the tall grass. A few seconds later, Vincent replaces the doll, gasping for air. "My... GOD," says the agent. "On one hand, that guy''s a dumbass, and on the other, this replacer chip is really fucking good."
"Oh yeah," says a cold, heavy voice. "I should''ve remembered you could do that."
Immediately turning around, a cold shiver runs down Vincent''s back. There he sees Chad standing there, barely sweating.
"H-H-How did you-" stammers Vincent.
"I ran here."
"B-but you''re-"
"I''m very fast, I know. Also you''ve been falling in the sky for a long while, not sure if you realized."
The both of them stand there, awkwardly. The cold wind blows by.
"..."
"..."
Chad walks up to Vincent before slamming his fist onto the agent''s chin, knocking him out.
"That was easy..."
RING RING RING RING
Chad immediately picks up the phone. "Yello?"
"I got my agent. He''s knocked out cold. I''m assuming you got yours under control too?"
"Yup. What now?"
"Send me the coordinates to your location. Also send them to Solomon. I have a plan."
"What''s the plan?"
"I''ll explain in a bit but the best case scenario, things go smoothly and it helps us operate. Worst case scenario, I don''t know the exact circumstances but the only thing I can say for sure is to get ready for a long night."
Chad lets out an audible sigh.
"Anything else?"
"For now that''s it, but just in case, be ready to be defensive. One of the agents called their headquarters and now they know we''re here."
"...I don''t know what to say."
"Then don''t say anything. Be ready when I get there."
*Click.*
Chad stands there.
"...Man I just want to eat dinner now," he says, kicking the dirt.
.
.
.
Not too far away, Giovanni, Scotia, Dani, and ZXVC9 get closer to their target.
『Chapter 13: Negotiations』
A typical summer day at the academy. The sun shines brightly, the kids are lively, and there hasn''t been any spiritual notices throughout the day. Most students are out playing soccer. Some are out taking the opportunity to spar. You notice one of your peers grilling outside. His odd purple streak in his hair glimmers in the sunlight. He''s wearing a tanktop and, from what it looks like, shorts, for the first time in a long while. He''s one of the few people you actually respect, seeing as how he rivals your intelligence, even if its in different fields.
You hear a voice call out to you. "Jinsei!"
You look around yourself...yes. Jinsei. Jinsei Tsudzuku, casually sitting on a bench. Doing... nothing. You turn around and see who the voice came from. Ah yes, your old friend.
Kai Miyagi. A handsome tall student with black spiky hair, a biker jacket atop his uniform, baggy pants, and a cheesy grin permanently plastered on his face.
"Man, what''s up with you? You''re just sitting there moping around." He goes up to your face, pinches your cheeks, and rapidly pulls them in and out in a teasing fashion. "Nyu! Nyu! Nyu! Nyu!"
"Stop that," you say to him, slapping away his hands.
"Oh come on, you love it."
"I don''t," you respond, turning your face away to hide your smile.
He sits right next to you, wraps his arm around your shoulder, and pulls you closer to him. He forces his face to take on a serious expression and looks rapidly at all the people, like a prairie dog scouting out for predators. "What are we looking at?" He says in the goofiest, serious voice possible. To be frank, you think this is stupid. Yet you''re smiling.
"Nothing, I''m just-"
A cold shiver runs down your spine. You look around. Despite the sun shining on you, the breeze is surprisingly cold.
Kai looks at you, and stops his expression. "What''s wrong?" He asks you.
"Nothing I''m just...It''s not just me right?"
He tilts his head. "What do you mean?"
"It''s cold right? Like the wind is cold?"
He looks at you confused. "...I don''t... No, not really? I''mma be honest, I''m burning in this weather. I should probably take off this jacket actually..."
"I see..." you respond. "I suppose I''m just skinny."
"Tch, no shit! You should eat more dude, I''m serious," responds Kai with a smile. "It''s not healthy to be as skinny as you are."
"I''m fine," you say, rolling your eyes.
"Oh come on, who are you trying to impress? Eh? C''mon, tell me." Says Kai, playfully nudging your arm
"I''m not interested in anyone at the moment... or in general."
"...I call bullshit" says Kai, before yawning and stretching his arms out.
"You can call it whatever you want, it''s the truth."
"Yeah man, you''re just needlessly flexing how hot you are by being all lean and toned or whatever. I totally believe you," responds Kai, smiling.
Your cheeks turn red.
"Say anyway," he continues, "so what''s up with you anyway? I see you sitting alone out here."
"I''m simply observing..." you say instinctively.
"Observing? Observing what?"
"Observing..."
You pause.
"I...I don''t know?"
He raises his eyebrow. "That''s a first."
"No I...I don''t know why I''m here...?"
You start to shiver more and more. You look at Kai once again.
He looks concerned.
For a split moment you could''ve sworn blood adorned his face yet, he''s perfectly fine right now.
"Jinsei... are you okay?"
"I-I..."
You try to speak up. You hear your heart beat thump through your chest. You feel your blood rush. Your fingers twitch. All of this yet you can''t move. After trying to speak louder and louder, an audible murmur finally leaves your lips.
"Kai..."
"...Jinsei?"
"Kai..."
In one last attempt to move, you force all of your muscles, all of your ki, to move your body. You touch his face and frantically grasp it. One last physical memory. His soft lips. His pointy nose. His malleable cheeks. His radiant, golden eyes. His eyelids, his small ears, memorizing every single skin cell, follicle, and molecule that makes up his face.
As much as he instinctively wants to pull back, he lets you do this to him. You uncover his face. He looks at you worried, and gently holds your head with his hands as well.
"Jins-"
"Kai!"
All of a sudden you''re in a different place. It''s pitch black outside. You''re inside A cramped pick-up truck with two other people: Chad, and Edward. The truck stops to a screeching halt. The driver, Chad, immediately looks back. "Jinsei, are you okay?" He asks.
"Apparently not," responds the passenger, Edward, rolling his eyes.
"What... what happened?" You ask. You notice the time on the truck''s clock: 11:32 PM
"You were talking in your sleep when all of a sudden you screamed the word Kai and startled both of us." Explains Edward.
"Ah yes... nevermind that."
Chad pauses and looks back at you once more. "Is there something you want to talk about?"
You stare at him.
"If you need to get something off your chest," he continues, "I can gladly-"
"Its none of your concern," you rebut.
"Thank fuck..." you hear Edward whisper under his breath.
You ignore Edward and continue talking to Chad. "Keep driving. How long do we have until we reach the field?"
"Well, they said to park the truck on the side lane and walk some acres through the cornfields," explains Chad. "Otherwise, we''re pretty close, say... ten minutes?"
"Alright. Move forward."
Chad then drives forward, closer to the underground.
.
.
.
3:40 AM
Jinsei stands in the middle of the Wisconsin plains, only a mile or so away from the city.
Next to his feet are the unconscious bodies of Jules and Vincent. Both of them are bound by red strings, both from their own blood mixed in with Jinsei''s blood. The strings are tight, cutting into their wrist and ankles. An excessive amount of tape covers both of their mouths.
Tired, Jinsei simply stands, and waits, crossing his arms. Despite his injuries, the metal that he controls is doing a fine job hiding underneath his clothes, puppetting his body as a sort of pseudo-exoskeleton. This of course gives his mind a break, disabling telekinesis he used to perform the same function. He reapplies his hair tie, and styles his hair into a manbun again. Standing for a long while, he simply waits.
Fifteen yards away, surrounding Jinsei, four people encroach on the sorcerer, all wearing invisible cloaks. Not a single sound escapes their lips. Nor a rustle from the ground they step on, nor a flap from their clothes. All of their sights are on Jinsei. They too, simply wait.
RING RING RING RING
Jule''s phone rings in Jinsei''s pocket. The sorcerer sighs.
"(It''s all or nothing,)" he thinks to himself.
After three rings, Jinsei picks up the phone.
"Jules...Jules! Are you alright?" asks a female agent through the phone.
"Quit the act," demands Jinsei. "We all know what''s happening here. I would like to talk to your director. I know he''s listening in."
A pause from the other side occurs. Silence for a few seconds, indicating they muted the phone. The agent unmutes and responds: "who is this?"
"I am not interested in talking to you. Both of your agents are defeated, and I would like to negotiate with your director. If I do not speak to him within the next minute, both of these agents will suffer the consequences."
Another pause occurs. Within thirty seconds, the gruff voice of an old man comes out of the phone. "Chief Washington speaking. Who do I have the displeasure of talking to?"
"Hello sir, you may call me Scion for now. I''ll be straightforward with you. Both of your agents have been defeated however, they are fine... for now. Both are unconscious and for things to go smoothly, I''d prefer if you listened to me carefully."
"How do I know you''re not full of shit."
"Well for starters, I can confirm the identities of the agents." Jinsei then pulls out the IDs of the agents that he rummaged through earlier while he was waiting. "One, is Vincent Pinkerton, and the other is Jules..." Jinsei, confused, looks at the front and back of the ID card. "...no surname..."
"And what does that prove? You could''ve just taken their IDs and have their corpses lying around."
"Well for starters, if I already killed them, I''d have nothing to negotiate with. And if I did kill them, I''d have a bullet in my head by now."
"Well if he''s alive, can I speak to Vincent?"
"He''s unconscious. And besides, I''m not stupid. I don''t know what you''ll do, but I know enough not to let you talk to an agent. Especially when it has to do with bargaining. But I can promise you, they''re both alive. I''ll even make a contract right here, right now, to prove it. If Jules and Vincent are dead, then I too will die within the next five seconds." Jinsei pauses for five seconds before returning to the phone. "And here I am."
"Tch. Nice theatrics. What is it that you want exactly?"
"You''re one to talk. Before we start negotiating, I want to make it clear: I want all of your men to stand down."
Silence occurs from the other side, before Washington responds: "What?"
"I can assure you, I can see them all." [Scanning] the area, Jinsei blankly looks forward. "I''m not just talking to you, Washington." Jinsei puts the phone on speaker, before continuing. "I can see you," he says, looking straight forward, "you, with the shortbow," he continues, looking to his right, "you," looking to his left, "and you, with the swords", not even bothering to look behind himself.
Confused, the cloaked agents all become stiff, unmoving from their position. Unbeknownst to the technologically invisible agents on the field, are two other invisible sorcerers. Though the CIA agents'' cloaks hide their thermal signatures and bend light to make them invisible, Solomon''s spell, [Guardian Angel] makes the devices seem like futile imitations. Undetectable by every means of the word, be it thermal, spiritual, mental, physical, and every other definition in-between, Solomon and Chad crouch patiently in the tall grass, waiting for Jinsei''s signal. Solomon shivers; be it out of nerves or because its a cold, damp night in the field is up in the air. Chad on the other hand stares at the agent standing between himself and Jinsei. Though still invisible to the eye, Chad can clearly sense their soul, and feel the vibrations coming from their ki to the ground. "(Eight feet away...)" Thinks Chad to himself, waiting to pounce.
Jinsei patiently waits for Washington to respond.
No response. Not to be confused with the phone being muted; there is simply no response.
Jinsei puts the phone close to his face, and walks forward. "I know what you''re doing," states Jinsei. "It won''t work. But to keep things civil between us, I''ll show you proof about your plan." Jinsei walks slowly yet surely towards the invisible foe right in front of him, and stretches his arm out. "Here," he states, handing his phone to the air. "Go ahead Washington. Give them an order."
Dead air, before the Chief responds again: "Go ahead. Pick up the phone," reluctantly responds Washington.
Out of thin air, a hand slowly unveils their own cloak. They reveal themselves to be a short, lightskin girl, standing at 5''2", sporting a similar suit that Vincent and Jules are wearing. Her hair is styled into a puffy, black afro. She takes off the nightvision goggles that take up the majority of her face. She has freckles.
She slowly yet surely reaches for the phone. Meanwhile, the three other agents see the perfect opportunity to grab Vincent and Jules'' bodies, but simply wait for Washington''s orders. Sweating by the second, they patiently stare at their comrade. Chad on the hand clenches his teeth, and readies the handsign to call upon one of his family''s spirits. Solomon quivers.
The girl finally grabs the phone, and slowly holds it near her mouth.
She whispers, albeit, loudly.
"Boss...
I think he''s onto us..."
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
Everyone; Washington on the other line, Solomon and Chad, the three other agents, and Jinsei, all make the same semi-irked face.
"..." An audible sigh is let out on the other side of the call. "Geovanni... just give him back the phone."
Geovanni casually obliges: "Here you go."
"Thank you." Simply responds Jinsei.
Jinsei walks back to the center, in-between all the other agents. "Now that that''s out of the way," says Jinsei aloud, "I want to continue with a disclaimer. Both of these agents have been defeated, and those who fight me will face a worse consequence."
All four of the agents'' ki spikes up. Chad clenches his fist, brimming with ki that rivals all of the others combined.
"I would rather it not come to that, so let''s all agree to a truce for now." States Jinsei. "So what do you say, Washington? A temporary truce for a moment of time. Your men will hear every word of what I have to say, and I''ll answer any questions you may have; complete transparency."
Washington pauses before continuing. "Fine. Who are you? You have a minute to explain yourself."
"You may call me Scion for now. I am a former student of Japan''s Ordinance Academy. Due to some illegal actions, I am now a fugitive on the run, traveling from country to country, until I ended up here. I met up with other sorcerers residing in the states and, as I''m sure you know, we eventually got our hands on the railroad spike. I''m well aware of your government''s sour relationship with Japan''s spiritual field. However, I''m willing to help your organization as long as you help me. May I continue?"
"...You may."
"Thank you. What I have to offer is invaluable information pertaining to the Ordinance Academy, how it works, who is in control, and most importantly, how they get so strong. With my help, I can teach your agents to get a better grasp at magic, ki, and psychopower. Not only that, but with me and my group, if you need something done in Japan, you don''t run the risk of having an an operative, being found and causing concern for the Ordinance Academy."
"And what do you want in return?"
"Simple. I want immunity, and your aid. First off, your technology department, along with the rest of your resources will help me with my goal a lot faster compared to my own resources. Secondly, having immunity from the law for me and my crew will be helpful. I doubt we''ll be causing much concern, but it certainly helps. Additionally, I trust that with our agreement, we''d stop getting hunted down by your men. Finally, with my knowledge and your resources, we will be able to take down the Ordinance Academy for good."
"...But what is your goal exactly?"
Jinsei hesitates for a split second. With a hoarse voice, he explains: "I need to bring back the dead."
"...But won''t that cause the apocalypse?"
A soft noise comes out of Jinsei''s mouth, before it grows into a quiet chuckle. "So I''m sure you''re aware of that too? I shouldn''t be surprised considering its a law that most countries agree not to do. However, keep this in mind, Chief Washington. In the span of humans being on this planet for thousands of years, you mean to tell me that in all of the civilizations aware of magic, none of them- not one king, pope, or emperor has ever tried to resurrect anyone, much less themselves? You mean to tell me that not a single person managed to succeed bringing back their loved one? In the span of roughly more than ten thousand years? I do not agree. In fact, I find that incomprehensible. Even for magic being a rarity, for humans, with all of their greed, remorse, and selfishness, not one of them managed to succeed? No; no. We''re still standing here. They say not to do it, but its as most religions are: simple morale tales to control the will of humans. You shouldn''t do it. But you and I know the world doesn''t work on simple ''shouldn''ts''. The only thing that matters is if we get punished, or not."
The wind blows. The fields rustle. Nobody moves an inch. It takes a couple of seconds for Jinsei to register that he is talking to someone, much less a crowd of people. Everyone simply stares. Some are confused. Others are weary. Some are worried. While others are nonchalant. They all stare at him. Silence.
Washington too, stays quiet, before speaking up.
"I... see your point."
"And do not worry. I''ll share my information, just as much as you let me have access to all of your data. I presume your government would find resurrection to be useful."
"Yeah, no, that''s pretty handy all things considered. But, we have concerns over the railroad-"
"Yes, the railroad spike. Do not worry, we''ll gladly hand you back the spike, as long as we''re able to have access to it with your permission. From what I know of it, it''ll come in handy with dealing with the sorcerers of Japan."
"Very well then Scion. I hate to admit it but, you drive a hard bargain. So when would you like to officially join-"
"Let me make it very clear, Washington."
"He keeps cutting me off..." murmurs the chief under his breath.
"We; my group and I, do not work for you. We are simply partners in the matter. We have access to your resources, you have access to my intel and teachings. That''s it. With this in mind, I hope you will agree to my contract: any form or command pertaining to: withholding information, lying, deception, act of betrayal, or harm against each other''s parties will punish the deceiver by death. This goes for the leaders of the groups, as well as those following under them. Do you agree to these terms?"
Washington on the other line clearly sucks in some air, before exhaling a loud sigh. "Yes."
"Good. I assume we''re done here." Instantly, the red wires restricting Jules and Vincent all melt into red strings of flimsy goop.
"Precisely." An audible click is heard through Washington''s side of the call before he continues: "All four of you can stand down."
A raspy voice coming behind Jinsei responds: "???????? ???? ???? ???? ?????? ?????????"
"You figure it out. They''re your co-workers now. Just come back to the base whenever you all are done."
And with a simple *click* Washington leaves the call(s).
The three other agents all uncloak themselves, and take off each of their own earpieces.
The first one is a tall, slender man standing at around 6''3". He''s wearing a cape, a pointed archer''s cap, a quiver full of arrows on his back, pointed leather boots, dark green vest and puffy trousers skewed with maroon accents. In his hand is a wooden shortbow that seems so finely crafted, the only conclusion is that it''s handmade. For some odd reason, his cap seems to always hide his eyes in the same angle, no matter where the light is coming from.
"Good evening. My name is Scotia. Pleasure to meet you."
The one with the raspy voice is a man wearing a latex body suit covered in bandages and leather wraps. He stands at 5''7", with long, black, shoulder-length hair. An unnecessary amount of belts scatter throughout his outfit. Aside from keeping his clothes together (which already fit him perfectly), they seem to serve no practical purpose. His slim boots seem to make no sound, despite their rubber making. Despite his body suit acting as a one piece, the torso is styled as a tanktop. Yet he still wears forearm bands full of belts. His mouth and neck are permanently covered by bandages. The only slivers of skin exposed are his pale hands with elongated fingernails. He sheathes the two katanas in hands into his hip holsters. He takes off his nightvision goggles, only to reveal his serpentine eyes.
"????????," he hisses.
"That''s your name?" Says Chad, as Solomon disables [Guardian Angel].
Immediately, all the other agents ready themselves with either their weapons and/or ki. "Hang on!" Alerts Jinsei. "They''re with me."
ZXVC9 holsters his swords and turns to Jinsei. "?????? ???????? ???????????????? ???? ?????????????? ????, ??????????''?? ???????"
"No," assures Jinsei. "I only had my comrades on standby, just in case the negotiation were to go sour. But since we''re all on the same side now, there''s nothing to worry about."
The bandaged agent grumbles.
Chad then turns to ZXVC9. "You didn''t answer my question."
In an annoyed tone, ZXVC9 responds, "??????, ????????''?? ???? ????????."
"...Really?" Says Solomon in a genuinely confused tone. "That''s your god given name? Your parents actually called you that?"
The short lightskin girl props up. "He just thinks it sounds cool."
"?????? ?????? ???????? ???? ? ???? ????''?? ?????? ???????? ???? ?? ????????????," mutters Z.
Chad turns to the girl, "is his voice real too?"
She ponders "Ummmmmm...I actually don''t know?"
"???????? ??????''???? ???????????????? ???????????????? ???? ???????? ???? ??????," responds ZXVC9 in an irked tone.
"Who?" Responds Solomon.
"?????? ???? ????????"
"Oh look, he does that too..." says Chad. "What''s your name by the way?" he continues, asking the girl.
"The names Geovanni. You can call me Geo... or Vanni. I don''t mind either." She presents her hand outwards. "Pleased to meet ya!"
Chad shakes her hand, which inexplicably morphs into a perfectly choreographed complicated bro-tier handshake that involves a interlocking specific fingers, a fist bump, a double slap, patty cake, a flip or two, and a headbutt.
"Nice to meet you," says Chad with a pleasant tone.
Solomon turns to his comrade, "Chad have you met this woman before?"
Chad turns to his friend. "No."
"Then how''d you-"
"I have no idea, I''m actually a little freaked out right now."
"Helloooo..." says one last voice behind Chad and Solomon.
The two of them turn around.
"Sorry," he continues. "I''ve been calling out to you guys for several minutes but I hate to interrupt."
They see a soft looking 5''4" man wearing the typical suit that Vincent, Jules, and Geovanni wear, though with tinges of orange and striped with blue accents. He wears circular prescription glasses and has dirty-blonde short hair. He slings his 50 cal. sniper rifle on his back.
"My name is Decker; Dani Decker- not to be confused with my older, more popular brother hehe..."
Chad and Solomon stare at him.
"...We don''t even know who he is," states Chad in a confused tone.
"Sorry, I''m just used to people recognizing Decker and then clarifying, hehe...."
Chad rolls his eyes. "...Ok...?"
"Anyway, here''s to hoping a bright and productive future with each other," says Dani with a gentle smile. "By the way, I don''t think you''ve introduced yourselves. Who are you?"
Chad scratches his head and awkwardly stands around. "Hi I''m... Chad."
"..."
Silence.
"That''s it?" Asks Vanni.
"...Yeah.
...
I''m not really good at the whole introduction thing. I work with Solomon over here and as you''ve already met, Jinsei over there."
"Who do work for?" Asks Dani.
"Umm... what."
"FBI? DEA? Or are all of you just an independent group?"
"I uh... I don''t feel comfortable telling you where I work and all but, if you just wanna know on the magic side of it, we just do our own thing. It''s kinda just like...yeah."
All of the agents blankly stare. "That''s uh... very interesting, Chad!" Says Dani with a forced smile.
"(Dammit now he thinks I''m the pathetic one)" thinks Chad to himself.
"Howdy fellas! My name is Solomon Belko! I''m a devout follower of Christ and it is my mission to spread the lord''s influence." Says Solomon.
"Lord''s influence... what does that mean?" Asks Scotia.
"Simple. It is my mission to tear down those that oppose the one true god, and also to claim vengeance against Japan for their brainwashing comics. Their influence over the country, as well as their wrong opinions and false gods just rub me the wrong way, you know? I''ll admit, the last one is more of a personal pet peeve rather than a mission I was tasked with but, I am his servant, and he''ll watch over me as long as I continue my mission. That''s all there is to it." Responds Solomon with a smile.
All of them stare.
Rustling coming from the ground, the sorcerers and agents look at the center: Vincent and Jules are waking up.
Jules sits up. He opens his eyes and sees Jinsei nonchalantly standing a couple feet away. Jules glares at Jinsei; Jinsei gives an apathetic look. Jules starts: "...So you''re still-"
"OH FUCK," yells Vincent, recognizing Chad from afar. "Oh hey Geo," he continues. "Say, what are you doing over here? And more importantly, why''re you standing right next to these pricks?"
"As in these guys?" asks Geo, pointing at Chad and Solomon. "Or this one?" Pointing at Z.
"???? ???????? ??????''?? ???????? ????????????."
"Yeah...Yeeeeaaahhh..." Reluctantly agrees Geovanni.
"Anyway, what''s going on?" Continues Vincent. "This asshole rammed me through a brick wall and now none of you are fighting."
Chad walks up to Vincent and lends him a hand. "Well, by the looks of it, as of two minutes ago, we''re co-workers now."
"Oh great, I have a lecture awaiting me." Vincent rolls his eyes and gets up with his own hands. "Uh, yeah, I''ll just forget about the fractured bones and hematomas all over my body."
"Great, glad to hear," responds Chad.
"YEAH. I HOPE YOU ARE."
"YEP."
"MM-HM."
"SURE THING BUDDY.
"OF COURSE PAL."
Z looks at them annoyed. "?? ??????''?? ?????????? ?? ???????? ???????????? ???? ??????."
Vincent immediately turns to Z: "Bitch I know I don''t like you."
Chad turns to Geo and whispers, "damn it, that one''s actually pretty good."
"Yeah no I''m stealing that..." concurs Geo.
Meanwhile, Jules stands awkwardly next to Jinsei. They both stare at their co-workers before Jules starts.
"I suppose none of that was personal, I''m assuming?"
"Of course," says Jinsei. "We don''t know each other. It''s all-"
"Just business?"
"Correct. And for the most part I''m glad."
"What do you mean?" Asks Jules.
"Don''t mistake this as a compliment however..." Jinsei scratches the back of his neck. "You''re... very annoying to fight."
Jules blankly looks at Jinsei. "I''ll... keep that in mind...?"
"I''m glad I didn''t fight you with more training. Even if you depended a majority of your fight with magical items, simple plans took you a long way."
"Thanks."
Jules kicks the dirt before he turns to Jinsei.
"What''s your plan anyway?"
"To simply use your organization for my benefit. Since taking down the Ordinance Academy is in both of our interests, we''re both even."
The air sits still.
Jules then pries further.
"But why-"
"That''s none of your concern."
Jules looks Jinsei up and down. Despite still being a novice, he can sense Jinsei''s ki is stiff, and his soul briefly brims with one sentiment.
Malice.
"...My bad. I won''t pry further."
"As you should." Mutters Jinsei with a hoarse breath.
The group all eventually circle around five minutes later.
"Alright gang," starts Dani. "Now that we''re all on the same page/side, we can go about things in two ways. We can all go back our own separate ways, the way we came from and whatnot, or we can go about things differently."
"What do you mean by different?" Asks Solomon.
"That''s the thing, I don''t know either. I was just bringing that up just in case someone had a different plan of going about things."
"Oh, actually, I have an idea," says Geovanni.
"Alrighty then," says Dani. "We''ll flip a coin. If its heads we go the first plan and go back the way we came. If it''s tails, we go with Geo''s plan."
Dani flips it.
. . .
Dani checks which side landed.
.
.
.
4:00 AM
Indigo blankets the sky. The temperature is lukewarm, and the air is humid. A bored waitress at Denny''s mops the floor; the two cooks idle around, distracting themselves by cleaning the grill and pans. It''s been dead for about an hour.
The entrance door then slides open.
The waitress looks over. "Hello, be with you an a min-"
She sees a rag tag of nine people, wearing different types of outfits. Some look clean and refined. Others look unusual. And then there''s four men that look like they just crawled out of a bus that trampled over them. Some awkwardly, others nonchalantly, walk into the Denny''s.
"Howdy ma''am!" Greets Solomon with his arms spread out. "Table for nine please. And do take your time." He says with a smile.
A phone rings in Jinsei''s pocket.
RING RING RING RING
He checks it; it''s Edward.
Jinsei picks it up. "What happened?"
"What happened? You guys left and never came back. You know they''re closing soon, right?"
"Oh yeah... we''re..." Jinsei looks at the table ordering food while the waitress silently stresses over the orders. "We''re quite busy at the moment."
"Well then, where am I supposed to go now?"
"Can''t you use your ability to go bac-"
"Oh yeah- I mean... I guess I can. It''s just super exhausting so I wanna leave that for when I really need it."
"...Then what''s the problem?"
"Well I''d really prefer if you guys just picked me up, not gonna lie."
"We left the truck, so you can use it."
"Oh yeah, good idea! Little issue though, uh, you guys never gave me the key."
Jinsei freezes and turns to Chad. "Did you not leave the keys in the truck?"
"...No, that''s stupid. Why?"
Jinsei sighs. "Can''t you ask someone a favor? Or get one of those taxi apps or something?"
"Mmm... I mean those cost money but... I guess. Though, I could probably slip in a favor with this person I met. Well whatever, I''ll figure it out. Meet you at the hotel?"
"Sure. Oh before you hang up, I need to inform you that we work with the CIA now."
"...uh...so we work for the government?"
"Not ''for'', with the government."
"...I don''t know how to respond to that but uh...how much does that change?"
"In the grand scheme of things, very little-"
"Oh thank fuck, ok. And we get to get away with things more often right?"
"That''s an odd question but I suppose technically yes-"
"Alright cool you can tell me the details later bye."
*CLICK*
Jinsei looks at his phone, weirded out.
.
.
.
Earlier.
2:00 AM
Meanwhile, at the Underground.
Just as Chad and Jinsei go up the elevator, Edward complains to himself. All of a sudden, a purple haired, androgynous person sits right next to him. Edward notices they have a small notebook in one hand. "So," they say with a smile. "What''s your name?"
Edward, clearly caught off guard, looks at them.
"...Huh?
『Chapter 14: Interview』
Earlier.
2:00 AM
At the Underground.
Just as Chad and Jinsei go up the elevator, Edward complains to himself. He rubs his stomach, noting that the peppers from his soup was too much. "Catch up to them...? Psh yeah well, if I literally didn''t just finish eating I''d be FINE but... whatever."
All of a sudden, an androgynous person with purple highlights sits right next to him. They''re wearing a comfortable looking wool turtleneck, ear piercings, mama jeans, cute round glasses, and converse shoes. Edward notices that they have a small notebook in one hand. "So," they say with a smile. "What''s your name?"
Edward, clearly caught off guard, looks at them.
"...Huh?"
"Your name dude! I''ve never seen you around."
"Uhh... What for? I''ve never met you."
"Oh well you can call me Quinn. I''m a regular around here."
The bartender, a skinny 20 year old male with glasses gives them a raised eyebrow look, before ignoring them.
"And you are?" Asks Quinn.
"Well, I''m not too keen on meeting strangers. If you could go away, that''d be great." Responds Edward, flipping through the drink menu.
"I''ll pay you a drink if you tell me about yourself."
Edward immediately turns towards them. "Alright! So whaddya wanna know about me first?" He says in a joyful tone, pulling their shoulder to his in a buddy-buddy fashion.
"(He immediately folded...)" Thinks Quinn to themselves.
"Well," says Quinn, politely pushing themselves away. "I want to know your name."
"Before we actually start, what''s with the notebook?" Asks Edward
"Oh this? I like to host interviews with people, and more specifically, about their stories."
"But why?" Asks Edward.
Quinn looks up at his eyes. He stares back. Quinn''s eyes seem cold, yet their body language seems warm. Edward''s body is closed off, yet has an inviting face.
"Well my major is in psychology, and my minor is in anthropology. Chronicling people and how they think is just- really interesting to me, you know?"
"Wouldn''t you be content with your own life experiences?" Asks Edward. "Sorry if that came off as insensitive, I''m just curious about how you think."
Quinn chuckles. "Well, that''s the thing. I myself never really lead an ''interesting'' life. So, I just ask people for their stories instead. Now, with your name."
"Well aren''t you an eager one?" Chuckles Edward. "The name''s Edward. Now, with my drink."
Just as Quinn finishes writing Edward''s name in the book, they roll their eyes and call the bartender over.
"Whatever he wants..." Grunts Quinn.
"I would like the Karot Martini, please."
The bartender gives both of them an eyebrow raise. "Just so you''re aware, that''ll be $80."
"80 DOLLARS?" Asks Quinn.
"Damn...inflations pretty bad nowadays..." Comments Edward, rubbing his chin.
Quinn gives an annoyed look at Edward. Edward in turn, shrugs. "You said any drink."
Quinn grumbles and rolls their eyes. "Fine," they say, rummaging through their wallet to fetch out 20 dollar bills.
"Pahaha, no way," exclaims Edward. "You''re actually doing it. I thought you would ask for a more reasonable price."
"Well a deal''s a deal." Responds Quinn. "And besides I make enough to not be worried about it. Hey bartender, why''s it so expensive by the way?"
"There''s small flakes of gold in the drink," says the bartender in a dry tone.
Both Quinn and Edward look at the bartender confused. The bartender ignores them as another customer calls his attention.
"A non-alcoholic Gin for me please," calls the stranger, sitting not too far away from them. It''s a skinny boy with shaggy, cloudlike bangs that covered his face. He''s also wearing a hoodie.
Edward looks at him and quietly scoffs.
The bartender mixes the drink. He forms small flakes of gold from the skin cells in the back of his hand, and sprinkles them in out of sight.
Edward props up: "Why would you put gold in alcohol?"
Quinn pauses before turning to Edward. "Why would you order it?"
The bartender finishes, and gives both Edward and the stranger their drinks.
Edward closes his eyes and takes a healthy swig. "Good question. I could''ve easily changed it to a normal drink but, its not everyday you get to drink gold in alcohol. That''s shit not everyone experiences. That''s bragging rights right there."
He licks his lips. "Mmmmm. You wanna try some?" He offers to Quinn.
"I''m... good. Say anyway, what are you doing here in The Underground?" They ask.
"Oh I''m here with a couple of friends. They needed some info for a mission we''re gonna do but, for now they''re off handling something else."
"A mission huh? What''s that all about?"
"Oh something to do with Japan and taking it over or destroying it or some shit." He says, taking a swig.
Quinn hears the country and instantly freezes up. Their hands quiver. They tilt their head and cover their mouth. "Japan huh?" They say. "So you''re strong?"
Edward ponders for a sec. "Eh. Kinda. I''m stronger than 99% of the human race but compared to everyone else here, that means jack shit. I''ve been studying magic for a while so I know I have some growing to do."
"I see." Comments Quinn. "What''s your specialization?"
"Specialization?" Asks Edward, averting his eyes as he asks.
"Yeah, you know? All-rounder, Half-and-half, Specialist?"
"I uh...I''m not sure," he responds.
Quinn''s left eye twitches.
Edward notices.
"Oh ahah... but do you know what spell or technique you can use yet?" Asks Quinn
"Uhm... I mean Chad is recently showing me how to summon spirits but that''s still a decent bit away. The only one I have for now is a useful one, but its more for transportation."
"Ah...I see," they say, slowly looking away.
An awkward silence befalls them. Edward sips his drink. Quinn studies the page on their book.
"So," starts Quinn. "Where are you from?"
"Missouri." Simply states Edward.
"Oh!"
"St. Louis."
"Oh."
Edward takes a big chug from his glass.
"How were uh... how was your dad?" Asks Quinn.
"He was ok."
"And your mom?"
"She was ok. I understand now that they tried their best in raising a child and that''s about it. No complaints, I don''t think." Responds Edward.
"I see." Quinn notes down the indigo priest-like robe that Edward adorns. "Well, your outfit seems very religious. Is that on purpose or is that just an ornately styled trenchcoat?"
"Yeah, well, I''m pretty sure I was a priest back then but that life seemed like a blur."
"Pretty sure?"
"Again, that was just a phase."
"Why''d you leave it? Was it because you were lonely?"
Edward chuckles. "That''s the thing about priests. You''d think that the one''s not touching kids would be the calm and collected sages of wisdom and preachers of holiness who talk nonstop about the bible and talking to jesus and whatnot. But the thing is, priests aren''t lonely. I mean think about it: you have all these people talking nonstop about how guilty they are about their sins and all of a sudden you have to be their pseudo-therapist going ''ok pray the rosemary like 15 times and you''re good.'' You''re surrounded by people, it''s annoying."
Quinn smells the fruity scent of the drink in his breath. "Erm, I think you mean the rosary?"
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
"What? Yeah man whatever."
"...Right. Well then did you learn anything of use at your time as a priest?"
"Umm... like parables and shit?"
"Yeah. Parables and shit."
"I mean, there''s the one with Ezekiel."
"...Yeah?"
Edward goes quiet.
Quinn looks at their book before looking up and nudging Edward. "Go on?"
"Yeah he was like... he loved god so much and he offered his son to him and then an angel''s like ''hey man it''s just a test, what are you doing.'' You know?"
Quinn slowly looks up. "That''s the story of Isaac. Like, I''m an athiest and even I know that."
Edward scoffs. "Well, what? Do you want me to be a walking bible or something? Do you think priests just remember all stories by memory?"
"...Fair point."
Quinn looks at the almost blank text on their book. "(No wonder he didn''t last as a priest.)" They think to themselves.
"Wait then, what''s the point of the robe?" Asks Quinn.
"Well duh, it looks cool!" Says Edward.
"Yeah man." Responds Quinn. "Wait so," they continue. "What about your hair? In the dark it''s black but when there''s light its white. Is that a spell?"
"Oh no I''m just a genetic freak."
"Oh..."
In an almost disappointed tone, Quinn starts motioning to leave the seat. They ask one last question. "What''s the meaning of life?"
"It''s what you make of it, next question."
Quinn''s eye twitches, before they tilt their head towards Edward. "That was a pretty quick response, don''t you think?"
"Its a pretty simple question that stupid people stumble on."
Confused, Quinn pries further. "What do you mean by that?"
"Well yeah, people like to take things a step further and delve waaaay too deep into shit that really doesn''t mean much. They distract themselves with philosophy, religion, history, and whatnot in order to get a distinct ''why'' out of things. I can understand why''d they think like this. It doesn''t mean that they''re necessarily smart in the first place. Truth is, if you want to distract yourself with the ''why''s of things, then you have the power to do so. But they''re missing the point of life. It''s to enjoy it."
Quinn rests their hand on their chin. "How sweet."
Edward turns to them. "How?"
"...How what?"
"What do you mean ''how sweet''? You''re missing the point of what I''m trying to say. The enjoyment of life can be fulfilling, happy, and full of friends and family. But that''s not everyone''s point of life. That''s not everyone''s enjoyment."
Quinn slowly takes their hand away from their chin. "I think I get where you''re going with this. Say, what''s your goal in life? Now that you''re going on about this whole, ''enjoying life'' thing."
Edward chuckles to himself again. "When my friends asked me that, I said something along the lines of ''taking down the Ordinance Academy for the sake of God'' or something like that. Can you believe that? Surprisingly, one of my friends actually has that same exact goal but, he''s just a little crazy." Edward snickers. "Also, if you meet them, don''t tell them this but I''m pretty sure I was high when I had that vision with the whole god thing."
Quinn looks at him puzzled. "Wait so did you learn about magic before or after the vision?"
"After. I hid a body, looked for a specific person, and learned the basics of magic afterwards."
"Then how did you know about the Ordinance Academy?"
Edward blankly looks at them.
"Huh... I guess never thought to realize that. Maybe I''m misremembering the order of things but I''m not really one to think hard about it you know? I mean, I''ve been a priest for a while and I can''t even tell what that was like."
Quinn stares at him. "Uh huh. Wait so even if you were high, and even with the possibility of meeting god or whatever, hiding a body, learning magic and the reality of the world...why? Why do you still continue doing whatever you''re doing? What do you get out of this?"
Edward stares at his empty glass, and twirls it around, admiring it. "You know, when I was 15, I realized the reality of the world. And not in the same way we do now, with spirits and all that. I mean, I had a sudden realization. I understood the station of my life, and those around me. My teacher. My parents. My friends. The ants. The birds. The flowers. The state of Missouri. The country. The world. The galaxy, and whatever the hell lied beyond the stars. Even if I couldn''t understand the MEAGER microcosm of an atom, or the vast laws of space that I couldn''t even begin to comprehend, I simply stared at it and said to myself:
''that''s it?''
The realization crushed me. It wasn''t a divine awakening, nor was it a terrifying reveal. It was boring. All of it is matter. Simple organisms atop simple rocks. And all of it is defined by the simple organisms'' thoughts and feelings. And that''s kinda it. We eat each other, shit each other out, listen to adults, obey the government, fuck for the sake of prolonging our species, all until we die. Obviously, this depressed the then-na?ve 15 year old me. I lived like that for years. But that''s when I started thinking.
Matter is temporary. If the government or company doesn''t already own what you ''own'', then its going to rot either way. I love money and food as much as the next guy, but taxes exist, and the gourmet meal I prepared is going to end up in the same place as the Big Mac I ate the other night. I already went on my schpeal about those who overthink and complicate things for the sake of distracting themselves. So again, the only thing we own is ourselves. A person''s soul is the most important thing that belongs to them. Without it, we lose who we are. And who we are is the most important thing in the world. Not in a cheesy metaphorical way, no. Think about it. Let''s say, there''s Carl and Jose. They''re your buddies, right?"
"O...k?" Complies Quinn.
"They''re both pretty stand up dudes. Both are your friends but each one has their own flaws. Jose is a na?ve but ultimately a well meaning guy. Carl is a tight ass about everything, but he''s fun to be around nonetheless. Who has more worth?"
"Uhh... I mean both sound decent enough to hangout with, I don''t-"
"That''s the thing," cuts Edward off. "It means jack shit."
"Now when I reveal that Jose is a plumber, and Carl is a cop, who has more worth?"
"I mean, they both have their own stations in life." Responds Quinn. "Without plumbers, we''d still have outhouses. And without cops, the world would be a better place."
"So that''s where-" Edward pauses.
He looks at Quinn and points. "You get extra credit for that one! But I digress. On a wide scale, sure. Both of those professions have their place in society. But one on one? One will always have more influence."
Edward slowly leans in closer to Quinn.
"It doesn''t matter if you flick the cop off or throw the ticket back at his face, those twenty minutes are in his hands. You piss him off, you''re in deep shit. You hurt him, you''re in bigger deep shit. Meanwhile the only influence Jose has is whether you get to use the toilet in twenty minutes or in thirty.
You see, life is all about power. Power is influence. Influence is evidence. Evidence is proof that we exist; evidence that we matter."
Edward clutches onto Quinn''s shoulders. He stares in their eyes, grinning.
"I''m pretty sure you of all people get it. To hell with all these phony sentiments and subjective philosophies. To hell with these hypocrites and preachers. I know the truth; I know that with the power of magic, we can all have what we want. It''s no longer about politics and militaries. It''s all about whether or not I decide to put a fucking crater here and now. My whim has weight- meaning to it. Me. Me alone. The more impact you have, the more worth you have as a person. The more influence I have over people''s lives, the more I matter. But now, instead of celebrities and politicians gathering all that soft power, it''s tangibly in our hands now.
The world is cruel.
And so, we must do what comes naturally."
Quinn simply stares at them before opening their mouth.
"Take your damn hands off me."
Edward slowly takes his hands off of them and retreats back to the bar table. An awkward silence ensues. "Sorry," he says. "The drink''s got me all... you know."
Quinn breathes out. "It''s fine," they say. The quickly open their book. Their sour expression immediately inverts to a chipper face as they see Edward''s updated page on the book.
"Well," starts Quinn. "In a sort of sense, I know what you mean. The soul part I get; you''re not you without being... you. Self-importance is key too; I learned that the hard way. Actively being selfish is the only thing we can do to survive. I could help someone else out but, that can also be a waste of time and energy. It''s all dependent on the person of course but, I get what you''re saying. And hey, if life gives you an opportunity, you''d be stupid to not take it. Conversely, we can also build up opportunities ourselves."
"Like jobs?" Props up Edward.
"Ehh, more like..." Quinn stops then blushes. "Ok I know this sounds really bad but, taking advantage of people."
Edward giggles. "But that is bad. Not that I disagree."
"No like- listen. If I''m at a bar, and I''m all prettied up and shit, and if a guy or girl offers me a drink, I''m taking it. Just because I accept it doesn''t mean I''m sleeping with them, y''know? That''s what they expect but, I don''t want to. I''m just getting what I can get."
"What if they put something in the drink?" Asks Edward.
"Well that''s why we can reads minds so."
"Oh yeah, right" Says Edward. "Man I keep trying to practice that but Psychopower is so hard."
Quinn makes a mental note of that comment.
"Say," continues Quinn. "You like dancing?"
Edward looks away. "I mean kinda, I''m just not really good at it. I''m more of a solo-dancer."
"Oh no worries" giggles Quinn. "Having fun is all that matters. There''s a small sector on the other side of The Ungerground that''s basically a nightclub. So why not join me?" They say with a forced smile. "It''s Friday night after all. Let''s dance."
Edward shrugs. "I mean technically its Saturday morning now but, yeah sure." He instinctively whips out his wallet to fetch a tip, before remembering ; "(Wait. What am I doing?)" He instantly puts his wallet back in his pocket. "(Much better.)" He thinks to himself.
The bartenders sees this and rubs the glass he was cleaning harder. "Prick..."
Both Edward and Quinn walk off towards the other section of The Underground.
The bartender notices the other customer, plastered on the bar set. "Hey, you good?" Asks the bartender.
The customer in turn, mumbles and slurs a groaned response.
"You didn''t even have alcohol how are you-"
The bartender then looks back at the Non-alcoholic Gin and the Gin used for the Martini. He looks at the now distant Edward and the clearly hammered customer.
"Oh. Shit."
.
.
.
Both Edward and Quinn are at the dance floor. Edward sporadically shuffles and moves in aggressive fashion, timing each rhythm of the beat perfectly. Quinn on the other hand goes for a more casual approach, simply swaying from side to side. They stare at Edward and quietly admitted, despite being a moving hazard for the people around him, he''s a pretty dancer.
Edward looks at them and smiles. "You know, you''re really cute."
"Thanks, I know." Quinn simply responds.
.
.
.
Hours pass. Both of them sweaty and sitting around the arena chairs, stare at the match thats ensuing.
"After this one, I''m gonna head out," says Quinn.
"Aight." Responds Edward.
"I had lots of fun tonight. You''re not like a lot of people around here, you know?"
"Sure man."
Quinn grumbles.
Edward looks at them. "Sorry I''m just- really tired. And a little pissed too."
"Pissed? About what?"
Edward leans in to Quinn. His demeanor changes. "Ok this is between you and me, so you don''t tell anyone, ok?"
Quinn quietly leans in. "It''s that serious?"
"Yes." Edward let''s out a deep sigh.
He pauses, before ensuing his sentence.
"You saw that asshole with the boomerang, right? With the red beret and ugly ass outfit."
Quinn looks at him. "Oh my god I KNOW right?"
"He''s a fucking prick. That boomering almost hit me in the eye. Like yeah he stopped at the third throw but like- no. I''m just upset. Like I was this close to kicking his ass but, whatever."
"Well if you kicked his ass we''d be in trouble."
"How?"
"Remember how you agreed to the contract? Yeah you would most likely die if you start shit. And anyways, there''s a rule that says to not allow weapons so either he got asked to leave or he got a brain hemorrhage on the spot so...I don''t know."
"Ohhh yeah, that''s fair." Edward pauses before turning back to Quinn. "Wait how would that also be your problem?"
"Well, I would answer that but I''m getting tired. I''ll tell you the answer..." Quinn leans in and boops Edward in the nose. "Next time I see you. I already got your number right?"
"Yeah. Alright well, just let me know when you wanna hangout again."
Quinn smiles and walks away.
Edward looks at his phone. It''s 4 AM. Most people are starting to leave too. He groans. "Dude where ARE THEY. Y''know what, fuck it."
He calls Jinsei.
.
.
.
After their brief call, Jinsei calls Edward back.
"Yeah what''s up," says Edward.
"One last thing. A couple weeks from now, get ready to meet up again. We''re going to Utah."
"Utah? Isn''t that where Chad lives?"
"Precisely."
"...The fuck are we doing in Utah?"
"We''re going to train. All of us."
"As in... all in our group or-"
"Some of our new co-workers will be joining us."
Edward groans.
"Can''t we just like, rent like a dojo for a day? Don''t they have all the money in the world to do that?"
"It''s called being discrete. Besides, I don''t see why you''d be upset. Aren''t you jobless at the mo-"
Edward rolls his eyes. "Ok yeah you''re annoying me now, see ya byyyyyyyyyye." Edward closes the call. He can already sense Jinsei 60~ miles away looking at his phone in mild annoyance.
.
.
.
A couple days later.
Quinn is casually walking around their city. They''re wearing a long skirt, leather boots and a blouse, all in black.
A homeless man, around his 60s goes up to them.
"Excuse me, could you spare some-"
"FUCK OFF."
.
.
.
Meanwhile, at the Ordinance Academy, Yamada the cockroach rests in his bed.
It''s early in the morning.
Two figures stand ominously at the side of his bed.
They observe.
『Chapter 15: Training arc in the East』
Meanwhile, at the Ordinance Academy, Yamada the cockroach rests in his ''bed''.
His dorm is barren, only having a desk and a large mat on the floor that acts as a bed. His body lays flat, seeing as how he can only sleep with his legs facing down. The walls are a drab gray. The window is closed and covered. The room is pitch black.
It''s the middle of the morning.
Two people stand at the side of his bed.
They look at him as he sleeps.
"...Do you think this is the only way he can sleep?" Asks Naoki.
"Well duh. He can''t sleep on his side and if he slept on his back he wouldn''t be able to get up." Responds Makoto.
Yamada snorts and slowly blinks open. He sees the shadowy visages of Naoki and Makoto.
"Wha- What? Who''s there?"
"It''s us dude." Responds Makoto.
"Rise and shine pal!" Says Naoki, walking over to the window. He opens the drapes and lets the light enter the room.
"GYAAAHHHHH CLOSE IT," hisses Yamada, frantically covering his eyes.
Naoki shuts the drapes immediately. "Guess he''s not much of a morning person huh..."
"Why would you do that?" Asks Yamada, rubbing his eyes. "And my glasses... where are my glasses?"
"Seriously?" Asks Makoto. "You have the physicals of a cockroach but you still need your glasses?"
Yamada turns to the general sound of her voice and purses his mandibles. "I wouldn''t be asking for them if I could see. Besides, Ms. Gretchen said she would tell me what was going on with me today. But I don''t think it was supposed to be this early?"
"Well you''d think wrong my demented friend," says Naoki.
Yamada looks down, as the rest of his body droops.
"She summoned us to call you early," clarifies Makoto. "After she diagnoses you, we start the real training."
"Alright..." Says Yamada, scratching the back of his scalp.
Yamada situates himself by standing up, putting on his glasses, and tying a tie around his neck. Force of habit.
As the three of them walk out Yamada''s door, the hallway clutters itself with groggily walking students. Most of them have woken up just recently. Among them is Akemi Kishimoto, bright and bubbly as ever. He greets several students, smiling at everyone, shooting finger guns while exchanging "Heys," and "Howdies!"
Another student walks the opposite way of him. This student has pitch black shaggy hair that went down to his neck. He''s also wearing ripped jeans, and a hoodie underneath his uniform. He slouches as he walks. His eyes permeate a sense of tired apathy. No, something deeper. Cold, grey, dead eyes. He''s grimacing. The closer Akemi comes towards him, the stiffer his body gets.
They both bump shoulders.
"Jackass." Mutters the shady student.
"PIECE OF SHIT." Barks Akemi, turning around. As Akemi awaits for the student to walk back towards him, the student couldn''t be bothered and continues walking. Akemi huffs, adjusts his leather jacket and storms towards the direction he was originally walking in.
Yamada, stunned, opens his mouth. "What was that all about?"
Naoki shrugs and comments: "It''s just a thing between them two. You''ll understand later."
Yamada''s mandibles quiver.
"You know," starts Yamada. "The more I start to warm up to Akemi and think he''s a cool guy, the more he appears to be the most unhinged out of you three. I really hope that''s just a coincidence."
"Yeah don''t worry. He''s just sensitive towards specific things," assures Makoto. "...Wait, most unhin- what the hell do you mean by that?"
.
.
.
Within the medical office, Yamada sits on an exam table. Makoto and Naoki stand around, watching Ms. Gretchen and Kyouji hook wires and needles all over Yamada''s body. The room is dimly lit, as usual. Several screens showing various statistics, lines of codes, and telegraphs of vitals blare the walls.
Kyouji, cross-referencing some texts, looks back and forth at the books before facing Yamada. "I hate to be the one to tell you this," starts Kyouji. "But... you''re cursed."
Yamada blankly blinks. "Yeah?"
"Yeah...."
"I uh, I didn''t know that," says Yamada. Everyone notes that its very hard to tell whether he''s being genuine or sarcistic, but all mentally shrug it off.
"But what does that mean for me?" Asks the cockroach.
"Well, aside from the obvious," says Gretchen. "You''re a human who''s been transmogrofied to be a hybrid between human and cockroach. Hence why you still have fingers and why you still need glasses."
"If you were transformed to be an actual giant cockroach," cuts Kyouji off, "you''d either be a literal cockroach, or you would implode on the spot since bugs can only sustain themselves up to a certain size. Both scenarios are obviously bad."
"But I don''t understand," says Yamada. "Why a cockroach? What did I do to them?"
Ms. Gretchen and Kyouji both look at each other.
Kyouji starts. "That''s the thing. The cursing was someone else''s doing (duh), and we don''t know who did it but, the cockroach part... that was you."
Yamada, taken aback, feels his heart sink. "What? How? I don''t know how to use magic?"
"We analyzed your body and traced the basic structure of the spell used on you," says Gretchen. "We could only find out how it works but basically, it transforms the person into the closest creature the person thinks themselves to be."
Yamada blinks and doesn''t say a word. He stares at the ground. After a minute, he opens his mouth. "How can I go back to normal?"
Kyouji puts his hand on his chin. "Do you want the good news first, or the bad news."
"Does it matter?" Whimpers Yamada.
"I guess you''re right. The good news is, there''s a way to change you back."
Yamada''s mandibles perk up.
"The bad news is, the people needed to conduct these types of things are few and far between."
"Can''t the academy contact other campus'' or sorcerers?" Asks Yamada.
"That''s the thing..." Says Kyouji. "Right now, you''re practically arrested into doing labor work for the school/government. I hate to be blunt, but even if someone from a different province had the necesarry skills to help you out, the government hates you right now. Either you get on their good side, or you figure something out on your own and continue to work for the academy. I don''t know how else this can work."
Yamada stares at the wall. He clasps his hands together and rests his elbows on his knees. He says nothing.
Everyone also awkwardly keeps their mouths shut, unsure of what to say, much less if anything needed to be said.
Silence.
After a deafening pause, Yamada opens his mouth.
"So I just need to get on the government''s good side?" He pauses, before continuing.
"Ok."
Yamada then turns to Naoki and responds.
"Yes. I can do that."
Naoki''s grim expression inverts on itself. He smiles with newfound hope.
"With that out of the way," says Gretchen. "I think it''d be best if we actually taught you how to use your body. It''d be pointless if you went to missions just to get yourself killed. Stand up for me please."
Yamada does as he''s told.
"See, since you''re cursed and your body was forcefully transmogrified, it altered your brain to that of a sorcerer. And since your body turned into... that, it also had the benefit of permenently staining you with ki. Say, did Naoki hurt you while you were fighting him?"
"Yes," simply responds Yamada.
"And Naoki, how hard were you trying in the fight?"
Naoki scratches the back of his head. "Well, I won''t lie, I only used ki to beat him up but I guess I was going my usual rate when it comes to missions. Except for the last blow, I intentionally loosened it up so that I wouldn''t kick his head off."
The cockroach lets out an oversized bead of sweat.
"Precisely," comments Gretchen. "You already have ki coursing through you due to the transformation. Without it, you most likely would''ve died with the first few hits. So for now, though its coursing through you, I don''t think you can actually control it yet. Tell me, when''s the last time you physically exerted yourself to an extreme degree?"
Yamada ponders for a second before answering. "I would say it was when I was defending myself against Naoki, but now that I think about it, it was the day of the transformation. I was running late to work and I just missed the train. Just as I was about to give up, something inside me refused, and I started running on all fours (two arms were still tucked inside my suit).That''s when the world slowly started skewing and I ran so fast I caught up to the train."
Gretchen snaps her fingers. "That''s it. When your Ki activates it alters your body to a significant degree. As a sorcerer, you''ll obviously need that. However, whether you''re naturally adept to that is on you. Makoto here is a Magic specialist but she still needs some control of ki or else she just has the durability of a normal human. A basic way of thinking about Ki is like a multiplier of your strength. If you could bench car, with Ki you can now bench 10. If you could react to 12 frames a second naturally, now you can react to a bullet. Show us your basic strength by doing as many pushups as you can, right here, right now."
Yamada rubs his antenna. "Golly right now? Alright..."
Yamada gets on all sixes, and bends his elbows in, lowering his body. There''s audible pops in his bones and a creaking noise to his muscles.
"Hhhhrrrggg....."
"(Even though its been a long time, I''m getting the flow of it)" Thinks Yamada to himself.
The cockroach audibly grunts each time he does a push up.
"GgggrrrAAAARRrrrgggg."
"(More damn it. I can do MORE.)"
With determination, Yamada grits his beak.
"GGGYYYYYYYYARRGGGHHH," he yells.
Yamada, profusely sweating, hisses out of breath and plops flat on the ground.
"So," says Yamada out of breath.
"Impressed?" He says, with newfound confidence.
Kyouji stares at him. "You did three."
Yamada pants before looking back up at him. "Yeah but for a beginner that''s not bad, right?"
Naoki looks at Makoto in wide eyed disbelief; "Oh my fuck." He says.
Gretchen sighs. "You''re going to have to work on that. Thankfully, since your mind is already tapped into the spiritual world as a side effect of the spell, training is going to be a lot easier. Naoki will help you with this but, training for the three types is quite simple. For Ki, the more you do something that concerns the material world, the stronger you get. Whether it be exercising, counting money, enjoying nature, etc. The more you appreciate or care for it, the stronger it affects your Ki."
"Counting money and enjoying nature? How does that make me tougher?" Asks Yamada.
Gretchen continues "Well Ki concerns the material world. Really caring for that money, the cost of things, how much you''ll get, etc, is materialistic in nature. Though, gaining a technique that manipulates matter through Ki is already a feat in itself. As for nature, its another part of the material world. When you appreciate the material world (which includes grass and trees), and become one with it, you gain a better sense of the matter that makes you. And of course, exercising literally concerns breaking your body and making it stronger. All of these examples concern the physical world. And again, the three types are abstract, and are molded by the intent and interpretation of the user."
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
Kyouji chips in. "Magic as a system is very liberal. As long as it connects to the main concern of a person''s mind, body, and spirit, it''ll work out. Don''t overthink it."
Naoki too, chips in. "Also since Ki is control over matter, it coats the body to the point where it affects clothes."
"I''m assuming that''s why sorcerers rarely get naked when they''re fighting right?" Asks Yamada
"Yep. Very handy. Unironically, noticing your opponent''s clothes are starting to rip is a good tell that their ki is lowering. Oh fuck that reminds me," continues Naoki. "Last but not least, actually activating your techniques in general. We all start out fresh, poorly managing our Ki. Sure, we can coat ourselves with it, but whats the point if you already tire out after five minutes? So that''s the thing: when it comes to Ki, Psychopower, and Magic, the more you use it, the better you get at using it."
"Like a muscle?"
"Yeah!" Continues Naoki. "Now I must make it clear that everyone starts out the same. There''s no such thing as ''I have a big brain so I can use P(sycho)P(ower) more.'' Or ''I have a bigger soul so I can use magic better.'' That''s dumb. All sorcerers start the same, and the more we figure ourselves out, the more we manage our skills." Naoki then pulls out a piece of detailed paper. "Think of our mind bodies and spirits as circles."
"...The circles are off-center" comments Makoto.
"I know, no need to remind me," says Naoki with an irked expression, before continuing. "As a newbie, actively coating yourself in Ki, PP, and Magic to protect your body, mind, and spirit (respectively), is exhausting, and your ''circle'' gets shaved down really quickly."
"And if you use a technique on top of that? Oh man, say goodbye to that core."
Everyone looks at the picture and squints at it.
"They''re supposed to be sparks..." Clarifies Naoki under his breath.
A collective "ohhhh" is let out by everyone in the room.
"But again, the more your body is used to using all these, the more it becomes second nature. And the more second nature, the more you just naturally have it on in the background. Much less, using skills becomes less expensive too. Sure it''ll take a chunk, but the more experienced you are- no big deal. Case in point: Let''s say this guy''s a ki specialist. He''s coating himself in every area and he just used a ki technique."
"Since he''s experienced and its his bread and butter, he''s fine. Now watch as he does an expensive PP move that he has no business of knowing or even attempting such a high caliber. Watch closely."
"The bottom breaks and-"
"Congratulations. He just lobotomized himself."
"Metaphorically?" Asks Yamada.
"No- literally. He''s braindead. The very moment you run out of these levels, you revert back to human. But the very moment you bottom out so hard that it breaks your ''sphere'', you just killed yourself. With PP you become braindead, with ki your body breaks itself, and with magic your soul is erased. And this is important because this is also how we kill rogue sorcerers and spirits."
"So aren''t we just all killing ourselves?" Asks Yamada.
"That''s right. We''re all playing an elongated race of ''let me help you kill yourself first before I kill myself first."
"That''s very dangerous," comments Yamada.
"YEAH. SO DON''T LOSE." Responds Naoki, getting up to the cockroach''s face, making a silly face.
"Oh...ok?" Replies Yamada, weirded out. "Is there anything else that you need to tell me?"
"That''s the basic gist of it." Explains Naoki. "When it comes to PP and Magic, its more or less the same concept. If you''re passionate about something or you''re overly concerned for yourself, it fuels magic. If you care too much about philosophy, or the concerns of the minds of others (and yourself), that affects PP. Keep in mind, you can even do both at the same time. Take for example, emotions. To me, emotions can be solely a PP concept since that''s just a reaction of the brain. But let''s say Akemi thinks that emotions concerns both Magic, since it relates to who a person is, and PP, since its a psychological effect. Both of those work, because techniques that use both at the same time do exist. For the last time, the system is entirely reliant on a person''s intent and interpretation."
"I think I understand the basics of it. It''s just a matter of practicing, right?"
"That''s right. Now, let''s go practice some working out. Again, there''s no point in Ki being a multiplier of strength if you can barely do three pushups. Is there anything else you guys needed from him?" Asks Naoki towards Kyouji and Gretchen.
As Kyouji logs in the data in files, Gretchen answers. "For now, this should be everything we nee-"
The door of the medical office bursts open. Standing in the entrance is Akemi, cheerily smiling. "Hey guys!"
Yamada audibly gulps.
"Oh hey, its Akemi. What''s up?" Asks Kyouji.
"Not much man, just running some errands for Mr. Mishima. You guys done with those files?"
Kyouji and Gretchen both look at each other. Gretchen answers; "Yes, we just finished them right now. But why so soon?" She takes a usb drive containing the data and hands it to Akemi.
Akemi trades it with the new documents. "Oh I don''t know. You know how he is. Being busy and all that must mean he needs things done quickly I guess."
Both Kyouji and Gretchen take a look at the paper. Gretchen''s eyes widen. Kyouji turns to Akemi. "Hey, no offense to you at all, but can you tell your sponsor something for me?"
"Of course! What is it?"
"Tell him he''s a jackass that doesn''t know what he''s doing."
"I uhh...alrighty, sure."
Gretchen props up. "When does he need this done?"
"He didn''t specify a day, but he said ''as soon as possible.''"
Everyone except Akemi groans.
"Well, I have to go back and report to him. Oh yeah by the way Yamada, Mr. Mishima wants to talk to you in about like three hours from now. See you guys around!"
Akemi saunters out of the room.
Yamada turns to Kyouji and Gretchen. "O...k. Wait, why were we all groaning?"
"The basic gist is," explains Kyouji. "It seems we can''t start you all the way from scratch."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning we''re gonna have to speedrun your training. Whatever you pick up quickly is what you''re going to have to work with. You''re going to have as many training wheels as we can possibly provide, because apparently this dumbass doesn''t know what ''slow and steady'' is." He slicks back his hair; the purple streak in his hair shines from the reflection of the light. "Not that I know it either but- its worse when he does it."
Yamada tilts his head. "How so?"
"Because when I do it, its a part of the process. But when he does it, its fucking stupid." Kyouji''s body twitches, as if getting physically annoyed. "I don''t know what he''s trying to do, but I hate it. Not that we can do anything about it though so, we''re just stuck getting you killed as quickly as possible."
"That doesn''t sound...confident." Comments Yamada.
"Sorry, I was just being realistic."
Startled, Yamada looks at him wide-eyed. "WOW. OK."
Naoki clicks his tongue. "Well, no use in dicking around. We might as well start now. Let''s go."
.
.
.
Naoki, Makoto, and Yamada are in the gym section of the academy. A large, sprawling sector made of wooden floor and metal walls. Despite the appearance, its clear something''s off with the making of the room, otherwise a sparring match would decimate the entire area. The three of them are at the corner with gym equipment. Yamada is on the bench press, while Naoki and Makoto stand right next to him. Naoki is wearing his tank top while Makoto wears her sleeveless gi.
"COME ON YAMADA!" Yells Naoki
"YOU JUST NEED TO DO ONE. JUST ONE. IT''S NOT THAT HARD I PROMISE." Encourages Makoto
"GGGRRRRRGGGHHHHHGHHH YOU GUYS AREN''T HELPING," gargles Yamada through gritting teeth.
Kicking his legs out and curling the lower half of his body, Yamada struggles to push the bar off of his chest. His brown face slowly turns into a reddish rust color.
Naoki sighs and picks up the barbell for Yamada. "Man...I hate to get all over you on this but, there''s no weight on this bar dude. How are you this weak?"
Yamada pants. "I think you''re forgetting that not everyone in society goes to the gym."
Makoto and Naoki look at each other confused. "Really?"
Yamada rolls his eyes. "Well I get for you two its different but *pant* yes. And I don''t want to hear it. Not because I''m sensitive but I already know I''m useless. Seriously. How is it that on that day, I managed to not only catch up to a train, but I also pulled myself up. And now I can''t even bring the damn bar back up!"
"Woah man, chill," says Naoki. "I get its frustrating but its not that deep. You''re a special circumstance, remember? You were unconsciously tapping into ki when you did the train thing. You''re doing this without ki. There''s a clear difference." Naoki walks up to Yamada''s head and playfully slaps his cheeks. "I get its frustrating but it''s a process. To hell with whatever Mishima wants. Kyouji is right in the sense that it''s all a process. Okay?"
Yamada, sternly looks away, before looking back at Naoki. "Okay."
"There we go!" Naoki slaps Yamada''s back. Yamada gets launched forwards and rolls on the ground.
"...whoops."
"What the hell was that?" Asks Yamada.
"Sorry, yeah. Remember how we said that everyone eventually coats themselves with ki that it eventually blends into our everyday bodies? Yeah its really hard to turn it back off."
"But you slapped me in the face softly?"
"That''s because I was paying attention."
"Well then what about now?"
"That''s because I was not paying attention."
.
.
.
A couple hours later, Yamada is accompanied with Akemi. They walk down the winding wooden halls before reaching a lone door. It''s a pitch black wooden door with no screens.
"This is Yamada''s office." Comments Akemi.
"Do you know what he wants?" Asks Yamada.
"I don''t know, but I don''t think it''ll be all that bad. Just be yourself."
Yamada''s mandibles tighten. "Alright."
Yamada opens the door.
He sees Yoshida Mishima sitting in his desk, writing some papers. There''s a small, dim lamp on the desk that acts as the only source of light. The room is surprisingly cold, at least in contrast to the hall outside.
"Ah Yamada," says Mishima, not looking up. "Take a seat. This won''t take long."
Yamada awkwardly squats over the chair. "You wanted to see me, Mr. Mishima?"
"I did actually. I''m going to hold a brief interview with you. The higher ups need this evaluation as a part of the process with your circumstance. Do you consent?"
"Ah I see. Well eh, I don''t think I really have a choice here, heheh," nervously chuckles Yamada.
Mishima stops writing his pen and glances at Yamada. He doesn''t laugh.
"...Yes." Says Yamada.
"Very well then. I just need you to be as honest as possible. There are no right or wrong answers, and you won''t get reprimanded no matter what you say during the interview."
"I understand."
"Alright. For the first question, do you believe in Shinto legends or the Buddhist religion?"
"I...I was never really a religious person to begin with."
Mishima writes down a checkmark in the paper. He keeps his permanent frown.
Yamada continues. "I did the festivals when I was a kid but as an adult I never really had time to believe in those things. Even when I did pray, that was just a moment of weakness, not real devotion to a creed."
Mishima jots down a minor note to the checkmark. "Tell me, what do you think of your country?"
"I like it," casually says Yamada.
Mishima''s body becomes looser and writes a checkmark.
"I mean, I think its ok overall. I like the culture but I don''t think much about it."
Mishima''s loose expression tightens. "What do you mean?"
"I just believe that I live here and that''s that. I don''t mind it all. I''m just used to it."
Mishima makes a slightly annoyed face as he crosses out the check he just made and puts it in a different box.
"How far will you go for your country?"
"I mean now that I''m working for the academy, I guess I''ll go as far as I can." Yamada pauses. "You said I won''t get reprimanded, right?"
"Correct."
Yamada tightens up. "Well, I hate to be blunt but... I don''t have much motivation to save these people. It''s the kind and right thing-"
"Citizens." Interrupts Mishima.
Yamada looks up. "Uh- y-yeah, citizens." He clarifies, slightly confused. "I understand its the right and kind thing to do. And I will do it. But that''s partly because its my job."
"Then what motivates you to live, Yamada? I understand the circumstance present to you but, are you really working for the sake of prolonging your sentence? Why didn''t you decide to just go with the execution if you''re going to end up risking your life everyday from there on out?"
"So that''s the thing-" Yamada pauses. "(Should I tell him about Naoki? No... I''ll tell him the truth.)"
The cockroach stares at Mishima in the face. "I want to kill the person that did this to me."
Mishima looks at Yamada, before continuing to write a checkmark. "I see."
Yamada blinks. "You''re... fine with that?"
"Vengeance is a natural response to these sorts of things. Since you were cursed by a rogue sorcerer, there''s technically nothing that says you can''t fulfill it. Obviously, your work takes precedence. But if it motivates you to become stronger, and you happen to find the sorcerer that did this to you, then good for you."
Yamada''s shoulders lighten, as they droop a bit. Yet something churns within his stomach.
"What do you think of the government?"
"Essentially the same thing as the country answer. I understand you people are doing your hardest to help the citizens, and that''s kind of it."
Mishima jots down a checkmark.
"A family of tourists and three Japanese citizens are in a diner. A spirit walks in and poses an immediate danger to all of them. Keep in mind you don''t have to concern yourself with wiping the witnesses'' memories, we would give you equipment for that. That aside, what would you do in that case?"
Yamada ponders for a bit before answering. "I suppose I would make sure the civilians are secured first, before fighting the spirit."
"Who do you save first."
"Wh-what? I mean, I suppose I would save the family first since that''s more people."
Mishima immediately notes down a checkmark.
"Then I would save the other three," continues Yamada.
"Alright Yamada, that seems to be it for the interview."
The cockroach perks up. "Really? That was very brief."
"I said it wouldn''t take long," comments Mishima. "Is there anything you would like to ask? If not, we can conclude it here, and you can continue with the rest of your day."
Yamada looks at the ground, pondering. He sits there for a moment, before opening his mouth. "Actually, I do have a question."
"Go on," says Mishima, continuing to write his paper.
"Did you have something to do with my transformation?"
The room gets cold. Mishima stops writing. Yamada stares at him. Mishima rests the pen on the table, before locking eyes with Yamada. He has a displeased face.
"What makes you ask that." Comments Mishima.
"I don''t have a solid basis but... all these tests, and all these files you have on me. It seems a little weird, for a complete nobody like me, you know? I know this sounds silly, but I might as well ask. Even if its just to calm my mind."
Mishima continues to stare. "Do you run around accusing other people every day, just to make yourself feel better?"
Yamada doesn''t say anything.
"Be honest, Yamada. Are you accusing me of cursing you?"
Yamada''s heart sits still.
"I suppose in this case, I am."
Mishima interlocks his fingers. His eye twitches before finally responding. "Yes Yamada. I, the Secretary of Spiritual Defense would take time out of my day to break into a random office worker''s house in the middle of the night, curse him, turn him into a cockroach, waste time conducting a trial, only to have him alive, and train him to be a sorcerer afterwards just because."
Yamada stands up, and lets out a big sigh of relief. "When you put it like that, I suppose that is kind of silly. But then I wonder, why do need all of that data?"
"I''m afraid that answer is classified, Yamada." Says Mishima with a stern voice.
Yamada looks down, before looking back up at Mishima, and bows. "I understand Mr. Mishima. Have a good day."
Mishima picks up his pen and continues writing the paper. "Call Akemi for me," says Mishima, still writing.
Yamada opens the door and leaves.
"He wants to talk to you." Says Yamada to Akemi.
Despite being difficult to tell what Yamada is thinking with a cockroach face.
Akemi could sense the cockroach''s skewed emotions.
No one can see cockroaches cry.
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Up in the mountains of Utah, a vast ranch is being used. It is being occupied by a couple of terrorists, and CIA agents.
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Meanwhile, in the Kyoto province, a town hall meeting is being conducted. The mayor of Kyoto is present.
Five men all wearing tank tops wait outside the town hall.
"It''s here, boss." Comments one of them.
The one wearing a bandana on his head grins. "It''s show time."
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Evil, everywhere, all at once.
Ill intentions
Skewed perceptions
Yet young kindness lingers
Not too far away.
『Chapter 16: Training arc in the West』
7:34 AM
Up in the mountains of Utah, Solomon, Chad, Edward, and Jinsei sit down. Trees are plentiful. The sky is bright, blue, and sunny. Little tufts of cloud float by. The birds chirp loudly. A small camp is made, with fire on the ground. They''re all on top of a small hill, overseeing the beautiful scenery.
Solomon stands tall and firm, breathing in the fresh air. "Aaaaaaaaah. You smell that guys?" He says. "That''s god right there."
Chad too, stands up and enjoys the view. "What do you mean?"
"That''s God''s splendor. The trees. The smell of vanilla." Solomon crouches and picks up a dribble of dirt. "He made this- all of it. And he brought us all together. Isn''t that cool?" Solomon turns to Edward, who''s on the ground, unpacking the small backpacks they brought along.
"Wouldn''t you agree, brother Edward?"
Edward takes off his headphones. "Huh? Uhh, yeah, sure."
Jinsei sits down in front of the fire. He stares at it. Waiting.
Step. Step. Step. Step. Audible crunches of leaves and branches crackle nearby.
Jinsei looks up. "About time."
Dani, Scotia, ZXVC9, and Vincent walk towards the camp. Scotia and Z still wear their typical attire, meanwhile Vincent and Dani wear camo fatigue and coats.
Both groups glance at each other. Z and Chad lock eyes. They both automatically think to themselves: "(Oh ??????????? not ???????? asshole ??????????)."
"Howdy fellas!" Greets Dani.
Jinsei narrows his eyes. "I thought you said only two people were coming..." Says Jinsei towards Dani.
"Oh yeah sorry about that. See, originally it was just going to be me and Vincent, but we thought to bring Z along with us because, the more, the merrier, right?"
Chad looks over at the stereotypical archer. "That''s one, but what about him?"
Dani turns around. "Oh Scotia? Yeah, he heard we were all going for a walk in the woods and he just invited himself."
"They''re right," adds Scotia, smiling. His cap still shadows his face. The only thing visible is his smile.
Edward squints. "That''s... I mean- ok. Wait, how''d you guys get here?"
Dani chuckles before answering. "So- funny story. We were supposed to come here on helicopter. And then we did five minutes of researching." Dani clasps his hands together. "Perhaps you guys didn''t realize but- *clap*- you''re on private property right now."
The group of terrorists all shrug. "Yeah we knew," explains Chad.
Dani''s eye twitches as he forces a smile.
"????????????, ??''?? ?????????????? ??????," comments ZXVC9
"Nonono-" assures Dani. "It''s fine. It''s just a couple mile long hike and we''re already here. Asking permission would take too long, rescheduling''s a bitch for everyone its just- its ok. As long as nobody sees us- we weren''t even here to begin with."
Chad shrugs. "Fair enough. You wanna start, Jinsei?"
Jinsei, still staring at the fire, slowly closes his eyes and grabs his bag. "Yes. Take a seat, all of you."
The agents and terrorists all gather around the camp fire. Jinsei stands up. "I''m sure all of you are already aware of the tri-power system. Seeing as how some of you have already fought each other, we can all clearly see a few gaps in each other''s strengths. Some of you are good, while most of you are still novices."
Chad and Vincent both glare at each other.
"(Fuck you)" telepathically calls Vincent to Chad.
"(Fuck you)" responds Chad.
"(???????? ??????)"
The agent and terrorist both look at Z.
"(You''re not even a part of this,)" radios Vinny.
"(?? ??????''?? ????????. ?????? ???????? ?????? ????????????????.)"
"Gentlemen," says Dani.
The three of them stop
"Continue," says Dani.
"Thank you. I''ll make this brief by showing you a quick way of improving your resources. As you all know, the greater a limitation, the stronger a technique. Whether it be for a niche situation, or a technique that''s best used sparingly, they''re stronger than something you can use with no drawbacks. That''s fine, however, there''s something you can do to any technique to make it stronger: Incantations and hand signs."
Edward leans in closer, staring at the lecturer. Jinsei continues to explain.
"You see, if you chant a technique before you use it, it charges it up. Depending on what you assign the chant to, you can either make the technique stronger, or make it cost less."
"Chanting?" Asks Scotia. "What do you mean by that? Like prayers?"
"To a certain extent, yes." Clarifies Jinsei. "Moreso the other way around. Prayers came from holy people chanting to themselves. Normal humans pray for the sake of help, unknowingly leaking all the potential for magic-"
Jinsei stands in front of the fire.
"But as sorcerers, instead of letting it slip through our fingers, we grasp on to it."
Edward smiles.
"But chanting isn''t necessarily religious. All that matters is that it comes from the soul. It doesn''t matter what you say, as long as it means something to you in that moment."
Vincent scoffs. "What, so we''re just going to be spitting poetry in the middle of a fight?"
"Yes. Literally." Says Jinsei.
"Next things are hand signs. Much like incantations, mudras are very similar in nature. It doesn''t matter what you do, much less if you even know how to do proper hand signs. But the more you do them, and restrict yourself by going ''as long as I finish the mudra, or string of mudras,'' then you can fire off a better version of your technique."
Jinsei smiles and scoffs to himself.
"I just remembered... There''s actually a martial art based entirely around this."
Z pays closer attention.
Jinsei continues: "Ninjutsu. Back in the Ordinance Academy, there used to be a magic specialist who sacrificed all of his skin to kill a the baseball spirit."
Vincent squints at Dani and mouths the words "what the fuck?"
Jinsei continues: "He then commissioned a cyborg body for himself, turned into a ki specialist, and then used Ninjutsu. Every time he fought, he''d flash a flurry of mudras before sending a finishing blow. I remember the rogue sorcerer''s torsos blowing up into chunks. Tcheheh... And the one who taught him that was-"
Jinsei stops. He stares into the woods. Those golden eyes stare back.
Confused, most of the men look behind them. They see nothing.
A solid minute passes before Chad gently taps Jinsei.
"Jinsei, are you o-"
Jinsei momentarily snaps back to reality and violently pulls away. "Don''t touch me." Jinsei takes heightened raspy breathes before sitting down. He still stares into the woods, gritting his teeth.
"Is he ok?" Asks Dani.
"Don''t worry, it happens. I''ll take it from here, though." Assures Chad. "Now, all of these are fine and all if you don''t have a guy up in your face or if you have a couple seconds to spare. Adding them to an attack won''t hurt. However, restrictions are again, the real make or break of this skill. Sure, if you sprinkle it to any attack, that''s extra credit. But if you really specify, and restrict it so that you can''t use the technique until you do one or the other, then that makes it way stronger. For example, when I summon my personal spirits, it''s only done through hand signs. A part of it boosts its power, but even then, there''s a specific one that''s so strong, that the only way to summon it is through the handsign."
All the CIA agents take a mental note of what he just said.
"Now, that''s fine and dandy, but there''s a catch. Whether its someone who uses it too much, or especially if its someone who solely locked all their techniques through the mudras/incantations. You aim for the throat or for their fingers. If you chop the throat, they won''t be able to speak. If you break their fingers, all their mudras are fucked up now. Easier said than done but, if you know how the enemy plays their cards, it''d be really stupid to let them play it."
Z glares at Chad''s fingers.
Dani starts up. "I see. By any chance, do any of you use a spellbook or wands?"
Z and Scotia look at Dani with confusion. Vincent flashes an ''ok'' hand gesture at them.
Chad ponders a second before answering. "No. Those are typically used for beginners. Why do you ask?"
"So that''s the thing," continues Dani. "Most of us still use spellbooks."
"What about the wands?" Asks Edward.
"Nah, that''s more of an MI6 thing. But I digress. You''re saying if most of the force focuses on hand signs and chants, it''ll make us stronger?"
"To an extent, yes," says Chad. "But obviously the best way to actually develop your techniques is through practicing it. These only help with output, resource management, etc. You don''t wanna depend too much on it."
"I see. Is there anything else we should train on?" Asks Dani.
"Well yeah. We''re on the mountains. We''re going to be practicing our ki."
"How?"
"By punching the side of the mountain of course."
Everyone stares at Chad.
Edward then props up: "Oh wait you''re not joking."
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.
.
Moving the camp less than a mile away, all of them stand in front of the side of a mountain. Some are punching said side of the mountains. Bloodstains and knuckle indentions decorate the wall. Others are meditating, focusing on the material world. Really grasping on to the atoms that make the trees, the rocks, and the air around them. Scotia is nowhere to be seen. And Edward is punching the wall, yet isn''t putting much effort into it.
Chad walks up to him. "What''s wrong Edward? You''re barely bleeding from your fists."
Edward smiles at him. "Two things. One, I realized I''m a magic specialist, so training for Ki isn''t my top priority."
Chad tilts his head to the side. "That''s fair. However, it doesn''t hurt to train it, especially since specialists of the other kinds are way more ''squishier.'' But, you know yourself more than I do, so its up to you. And what''s the other?"
Edward shoots a grin at Chad. "Well, your friend over here managed to land a date."
Chad looks around. "Who?"
Edward''s smile droops down. "M...Me. It''s me dude."
"Oh well congratulations. Who''s the lucky girl?"
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
"Girl? Eheh, uh yeah sure," chuckles Edward while rolling his eyes. "The lucky person is someone I met at The Underground."
Chad slightly frowns. "Hey now. I don''t mean to tell you how to live your life but, dating a sorcerer from there doesn''t seem very...safe."
Edward gives Chad a weird look. "Weren''t you going to invite Jordy over here with us?"
"Jordy''s a different case. Training him isn''t the same as dating. Plus I know he''s the innocent type. Ultimately he couldn''t come because his schedule was full but, I realized maybe he shouldn''t be involved in all of this."
"Mhm. Yeah, how sweet. So tell me what''s the difference between him and Quinn?"
"Well I understand its a bit of a biased perspective from the both of us. Maybe its because I don''t know this ''Quinn'' girl-"
"Person."
"Uh-yeah, person, that I''m a little uneasy about it. Don''t you think she''s suspicious?"
"Oh yeah no. They''re 100% sussy."
Chad makes a confused face. "Then why the fuck- why would you- wha- ??"
Edward shakes his head and puts his hands on his hips. "Don''t worry about it guy. This is my business. There''s the potential to win something here. And most importantly- I want to see where this goes."
Chad shakes his head in disappointment. "Just don''t die."
"I wouldn''t count on it."
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Jinsei is in the woods, staring at the others. His demeanor seems calmer.
A voice calls out from behind. "You think you''re too good to train with us?"
Jinsei looks behind. It''s Scotia. He has shortbow wrapped around his shoulder. In his other hand is an elk, getting dragged on the ground by the antlers. It has a single, clean hole in its neck. There is no arrow to be seen, however.
"I got us lunch," says Scotia.
Jinsei raises his eyebrow. "I...see. Thank you."
" ''course."
"Say," says Jinsei. "wasn''t there an African American agent with you back the first time we met?"
"Hm? Oh yeah, there were two of them. Geo and Jules. What about them?"
"Jules... where is he?"
"Oh, he''s a busy guy, so he''s out on a mission. We were just gonna copy and paste the notes you guys explained to us and show it to the rest of the force. Why do you ask?"
"Nothing, I was simply expecting him to show up. For someone who''s not that versed in sorcery, I''m surprised he lasted so long in our fight."
"Yeah. For a diversity hire, he''s actually worth the merit."
Jinsei gives him an odd look.
"Oh yeah, diversity hire. It''s an American thing. But he''s good, you know?"
"...I see."
"Say, by the way, within this chart," says Scotia rummaging through his pocket, "which one would you say you''re around?"
Jinsei stares at the chart. He then laughs.
"You Americans are cute."
Scotia gives him a confused look. "What''s so funny?"
"Oh nothing. It''s just that we use a different style chart in my home country." Jinsei then points at the center; "All-rounder."
Scotia smiles. "Interesting."
"Why do you ask?"
"Oh nothin''. Just curious." Scotia shoves the chart back in his pocket and walks towards the rest of the group. "Boys, I got us some lunch!"
Jinsei looks at the agent with his nerves weary. He then breathes in and out. He looks at them again. His worried demeanor melts into realization. From realization to a relieved smile. He then scoffs.
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As Solomon helps Scotia cook the elk, Chad stays by the mountain to help Vincent.
"No man, no. When you punch you wanna make a sound. Like ''OSU'' or ''ITZ''. Did they never teach you that in martial arts?"
Vincent juts his lower jaw out in a cocky fashion. "Nah. Back where I''m from, when coach taught me how to box, he also taught me to shit-talk. Not making noises or whatever."
Chad''s eye twitches. "Well, Vincent, making those noises is like an instinct thing. It gets that little bit of oomf out of your stomach and into your punches. Ignore ki for a moment. It''s a real thing martial artists do. When you''re beating someone up, shit talking might get into their head. But you''re strike a direct hit and go-"
"EISH."
Chad punches a hole about 13 inches deep into the side of the mountain. He pulls his fist out. His knuckles barely have little scratches on them.
"It get''s the oomf out of you. And it scares the shit out of the guy. Got it?"
Vincent purses his lips. "tch, showoff..." He says under his breath. "So I just gotta make noises?"
"That''s right."
"Ok."
Vincent punches the side of the mountain. "OW."
He punches again. "OW."
"OW. OW. OW. FUCk- hang on that one was real. OW. OW. OW."
He turns to Chad, and does a thumbs up. His knuckles are bleeding profusely. "Like that, right?"
Chad makes a blank expression. "Yeah man, sure."
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As some continue to cook, others still take the time to punch or meditate. A noise from the woods creaks out. They all turn to the witness.
A hiker. A Caucasian male in his late 20s. He''s got prescription glasses, a beard, a bucket hat, and a hiking pack. He stares at the scene in bewilderment.
The agents and the terrorists all share the same thought: "(Shit.)"
"Who- who are you people? What is this?" Says the hiker, pointing at the blood splattered side of the mountain. "Did you get permission from the owner?"
"Yes," calmly says Chad.
"Bullshit. He''s my cousin and he''d let me know who came through here. I''m calling the cops."
"I say we kill him," says Edward aloud.
Everyone looks at him, including the hiker.
"Imbecile!" Curses Jinsei aloud.
"?????? ????????, ?? ??????????. ???''?? ?????????????? ???????? ????, ???? ???? ?????????? ???? ???????? ?????? ???? ???????? ????????."
"Wha-what?" Asks the hiker with a quivering voice. The hiker instinctively reaches for the gun in his belt. A colt python. His hand trembles. His heart thumps so loud, its all the hiker can hear. The hiker pulls the gun out and aims it at the crowd of sorcerers.
All of them are still. None of them react. Except for one.
An audible chuckle. Edward stands up and raises his arms. "Go ahead and try. See what happens."
THWACK.
Chad punches Edward in the jaw. Edward looks up in confusion. Chad is visibly pissed.
"Edward calm the FUCK down. We''ll think of something." Chad raises his hand up to the hiker. "It''s going to be ok. We''re not gonna hurt you, lets all just calm down and talk this out."
"?????? ?????? ?????? ???? ???????????????" Prods Z.
"I''m trying to make this better. So unless you want to fight right here, right now, all while a witness is in front of us, be my guest." Responds Chad. "Besides, you don''t have any other ideas, do you?" He looks at Jinsei and Dani.
Jinsei looks calm and silent. Dani bites his fingernails, muttering under his breath. "This isn''t good..."
The hiker is still shaking in place, unsure if whether to shoot at them, or run away.
Jinsei calmly looks at Chad and responds. "I have no ideas." He then turns to Dani, and stares at him. Studies him.
Dani responds. "Killing him is an option, but I really don''t want to go with that. Wait, can''t some of you use PsychoPower?"
They all awkwardly shuffle and come into the same conclusion. "No."
"Wha- WHAT? Out of eight sorcerers. EIGHT. Not one of us can alter his brain?"
To prove that none of them can do anything, each one says their specialization:
"Wait a sec," continues Dani. "Vincent, I understand you''re not at the level to alter minds yet, right?"
"Nope."
"You, Solomon...was it?"
"Yes sir," says Solomon with a smile.
"You can alter minds right? You''re Half and Half PsychoPower and Magic?"
Solomon does a haughty laugh. "That I am. However, I can say for certain my PsychoPower ability is the LAST thing that would be helpful in this situation."
"Dammit ok....Then what about you Jinsei? You''re the most experienced out of all of us. You can just alter his mind to forget about us, right?"
Jinsei pauses for a sec before he answers. "No. I''m experienced but even using PsychoPower at that level is too much for a simple all-rounder."
Edward, Chad, and Scotia look at him.
"Damn it..." Says Dani. After a couple seconds of pondering, he makes a motion with his hand. "Fuck it. Bring him over here. Let''s negotiate."
Chad announces to the hiker: "Come over here. Let''s talk it out. We have venison. It''s fresh and its good. You can keep the gun, just don''t fire it."
Edward gets up, frustrated. His right cheek is swollen. He stares at Chad and grits his teeth.
The hiker slowly walks over to the circle of sorcerers. He stays a few feet behind, aiming his gun at a different person every few seconds. None of the agents nor terorrists bat an eye at the gun.
Dani opens up. "Ok. So. We''re a part of the government." Dani opens up his wallet and shows his CIA ID. "We''re conducting some top secret research here. I''d advise you leave. And never speak about this ever again."
"Do you have a warrant?"
Everyone looks at the hiker confused.
"What?" Asks Dani.
"A warrant. I understand you''re government. But under private property, that doesn''t matter."
"He''s right," interrupts Scotia. "Technically speaking, we have no authority here."
"How do you know that?" Asks Edward, rubbing his cheek.
"My family is all cops so I know a thing or two ''bout the law. Counterpoint: we''re the government. Unless you want to waste you and your cousin''s time, I''d suggest you just leave this be. We''ll clean up this mess and it''ll be fine and dandy."
"And if I don''t? What then? Are you going to kill me? Just for the sake of protecting my family''s property?"
Dani chuckles softly before he leans in closely to the hiker. "Buddy. If you just leave, there''ll be no trouble. I''ll even throw in a bonus. A five thousand dollar check with your name on it, if you just agree to not talk about this. Ok?"
The hiker stares at Dani. "I don''t want your damn money."
Dani forces a smile. "Buddy. I hate to sound rude but- and I mean take this in the most professional manner possible. Who the fuck do you think you are?"
"I''m just a guy who thinks I have the right of a citizen. To protect my land and my family."
"Hey- newsflash pal. It''s not YOUR LAND. YOU FUCKING-" Dani stops himself. He breathes in and out. "I''m sorry about that. It was a lapse in my judgement, let''s just....ease down. Chad." Dani turns to Chad. "Can you escort our friend back to where he came? Thanks."
"Escort?"
As Dani stands up, he telepathically radios a message to Chad. "(Do what you gotta do.)"
Chad then stands up and walks towards the hiker. "Let''s go."
"I''m not going with you? I''m calling the cops," says the biker.
Chad leans in to the biker''s ear. "It''s either me or them. There''s no other choice."
Taken aback, the hiker hesitates, before standing up, and walking alongside Chad.
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A mile down the path, Chad starts.
"Look. I don''t want to hurt you. I really don''t. And I think I already know the answer but, the only way you''re getting out of here alive is if you agree to stay quiet about this whole situation."
"No. This is a gross use of government force. I need your ID please."
Chad scratches the back of his own head. "I don''t mean to lecture you but, sometimes you have to know when to back down. Trust me, I know their types too. I hate paying for taxes and this whole bullshit about paying for shit that I have no need for. Not to mention, they can listen and browse whatever you''re doing. I get that. I hate the government too. I''m gonna be honest. I''m not even a part of them. But, even I can''t go against them. As much as I hate to say it, as we are right now, we can''t do anything. We can only kneel. I don''t want to talk about going up and arms about fighting them back because that''s not the point. For right now, just give up. It''ll save you and your family."
The hiker looks at Chad. They hold a stern face. It takes a couple seconds before the hiker states: "Ok. I won''t tell anybody."
"Good. Now, say it like you mean it. This is a contract. You agree to not speak about the situation in the woods to anybody else for as long as you live?"
The hiker looks confused but answers nervously. "Yes."
"All right." Chad turns around and walks away. "It''s been a pleasure."
Chad walks back towards the camp.
Step.
Step.
Stepp...
Rustle.
Plop.
Chad looks behind himself.
Within five steps, the hiker, kneels, bends over, and holds his heart. The leaves beneath the hiker start to turn a crimson color. It''s unclear where but, blood is leaking from the hiker''s body. Chad hears a faint gargling sound.
With a genuine frown, Chad looks down and continues walking. "Liar."
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Chad arrives back at camp.
He explains to the group of what happened. "The bears will take the corpse. There''s no blood in my hands," he explains.
Dani, with a sour expression, is relieved. "We did all we could." Says Dani. "If he didn''t want to accept it, that''s on him."
Chad looks at Jinsei. "Yeah."
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Hours pass by. Eventually, the groups say their goodbyes, and split off towards where they came from.
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.
.
"Scotia," says Dani. "You got what he was?"
"Yup. It''s a shame he eventually revealed that he''s an all-rounder when we all said our specializations."
"Nonono, you did well," explains Dani. "That just means he''s not lying. Or, he pays attention to his own lies. Either way, either he''s telling us the truth, or we catch him slip up eventually. It''s all fair."
"???? ?????? ?????? ????????-????????, ???? ???????? ???????? ???? ?????????? ?????? ?????????????? ?????? ????''?? ??????????????," says Z.
"Good observation skills Z. Thing is- A. There''s still a decent gap between him, and you...much less all of us. And B. even with broken fingers, we still don''t know what else he has up his sleeves. But at least that''s one thing to consider. Any reads on Solomon?"
"From what I can tell, he''s the squishy type, so a couple of hits from ki should take him down," explains Scotia. The only issue are his abilities. We still don''t know if the invisibility spell is either Chad''s or Solomon''s. But if that''s it, an attack with a wide range should do the trick."
"And Edward?"
Scotia and Z look at each other before turning to Dani. "???????? ?????????? ???????"
A couple seconds pass before the three of them all laugh in unison.
Vincent looks at them weird. "It wasn''t that funny..." Vincent continues: "Wait, hang on guys. Look, I know I''m the last person to give a shit about any of those four but, what about the whole contract thing? It''s not like we can kill them?"
Dani turns to Vincent and puts his hand on his shoulder. "Don''t worry about it. :)"
"?????????? ?????? ???????????? ?????? ???? ?????? ?????????? ?????????? ???????????? ?????? ?????????? ?????????? ?????? ????????????????."
Scotia then adds a comment. "Perhaps you should pass the chip test first before you consider coming over."
Vincent is taken aback. "Wait, this thing''s a test?" He asks, pointing at the chip in the back of his neck.
All three of them stop walking. Dani turns to Scotia. He gives the most irked smile possible.
Scotia turns to Dani. "...Was I not supposed to say that?"
Silence.
"...I''m gonna drink some tea in the break room if anybody needs me," announces Dani.
Z doesn''t say anything and just walks away.
Vincent and Scotia stand next to each other. Scotia turns around and continues towards the hall. In frustration, Vincent blurts out: "Oh yeah? Don''t forget I could''ve been in there with you guys. I just chose NOT TO."
Scotia doesn''t turn around.
Vincent wrinkles his nose. "Prick."
.
.
.
In a rented out pick up truck, Chad is driving. Solomon and Edward are in the back. And Jinsei is in the passenger seat.
"Jinsei," starts Chad. "Why didn''t you save the hiker?"
"What do you mean."
"You could''ve wiped his memory off instead of us having to go through all of that. Why didn''t you do it?"
"It''s simple. I wanted to see how the agents would react."
Chad wrinkles his nose. "Did you get anything?"
"I have a basic understanding of how they think," answer Jinsei. He chuckles to himself. "For the first time in a while, I''ve actually felt humorous."
"How so?"
"Peheheh...Don''t you get it? They think they''re so clever. I don''t know what they''re trying to pull, or how. But they''re trying to analyze us. Lo and behold. They''re doing a real sloppy job of doing so. For now, we don''t have anything to worry about. How they try to break the contract is going to be interesting but, we''re still working with them in the mean time. So for now, we''re fine."
Edward slouches over. His cheek has gotten less swollen. "Hey Chad," he says. "You didn''t say sorry."
"You were being a moron. I needed to shut you up."
"..."
"Look Eddie, I''m sorry. But you can''t just be escalating situations like that. Come on. Even in retrospect, you gotta admit that was dumb. I''m sorry man just, don''t do that shit. Ok?"
Edward smiles. "Of course pal. It''s like Jesus said. Forgive and forget!"
"Actually, he said ''love thy neighbor,''" interrupts Solomon.
Edward looks at him. "What...yeah, sure???"
.
.
.
A week passes.
Chad wakes up, and does his morning routine. "I''m heading out to work ma!"
No response.
He goes to the garage and opens the garage door.
As he sits on his bicycle, it feels odd.
"...What the?"
He looks at it again. The back tire is popped. A puncture wound, clear as day.
Confused, Chad puts the bike back against the wall. He looks at his Jeep. No marks. No puncture wounds on the wheels, nor a scratch on the side of the doors.
"(Somebody that knows I only take the bike to work did this.)"
He looks at both the bicycle and the Jeep. "Oh but gas costs too much right now...."
Chad, slightly disappointed, shrugs.
"I''ll figure this out later. I guess I''m jogging to work today."
He closes the garage door. He stretches and starts his brisk jog to work. "This counts as training..."
Self improvement.
Ire not given.
Opportunistic optimism.
Jog forward.
.
.
.
Meanwhile, in Japan.
Makoto falls to her death.
『Chapter 17: Convictions』
Yamada opens the door and leaves Mishima''s office.
"He wants to talk to you." Says Yamada to Akemi.
Akemi stares at Yamada as the cockroach walks away. Akemi purses his lips but knows, he ultimately can''t do anything about it.
Akemi turns towards the door, and enters. Mishima is still writing his papers. "Akemi, how have you been?" He says in a monotone voice, still looking at his papers.
Akemi closes the door behind him. He bows to Mishima and says with a slight smile: "I''m doing great sir. How about you?"
"Fine. Brief me on this month''s status report. Take a seat while you''re at it."
Akemi sits down and puts his hand on his chin. "The usual," says Akemi. "Patrolling has been pretty easy. I''m the one with the highest amount of spirit executions- as usual," he says, with a slight proud tone.
Mishima doesn''t look up.
"I think that''s about it really. I haven''t really been on reception duty but, that''s all I can think of."
Mishima waves it off. "Don''t worry about that." He pauses before continuing. "Say, Akemi. Do you love your country?"
"Absolutely," says Akemi with a smile. "I''m a little confused on those who''re weird about that sort of thing but, that''s on them ya know? I don''t see what the issue is really."
"I''m glad you don''t. There''s nothing wrong with supporting the country, and you''re a lot braver than most. There''s a difference between doing your job, and doing what you love."
"Hehe, thanks. I''m just honored to do it."
"Say, what are your opinions of the United States?"
Akemi gives a confused look at Mishima. Mishima greets his look with a stern look. "Uhh..." starts Akemi. "They''re pretty... you know?"
"I don''t."
"Well, they''re pretty different for one. They have some cool things though. I mean...burgers are pretty cool I guess. But aside from that...I don''t know. I don''t think too much about them. Why do you ask?"
Mishima stops writing and looks at Akemi. "You see, this is how they get us under their control."
Akemi shoots a confused glance. "What''s that?"
"I''m sure you''re aware of the Meiji restoration, correct?"
"Sort of...? I''m sorry but not really."
"To put it briefly, after the United States won the Mexican American War, they wanted to flex their strength. They saw what Great Britain was doing to China in the Opium wars. Seeing as how the western power won, the US took the same philosophy and sent the US commodore, Matthew Perry. He offered our nation two choices: trade privileges, or war. Seeing as how the nation was far inferior to the US Navy, we had to comply. Japan agreed to the treaty. And another one after that. And another after that. Much like China, Japan had to agree to predatory terms that abused the nation''s economy and society. Businesses were lost. Society changed. Restless riots ensued. Overtime the shogunate government was overthrown, and was replaced by one that mimicked the western powers. Despite that, the damage had been done, and the nation sought to protect itself, and hate the oppressor. The rest is history."
Akemi blankly looks. "I...see. But that''s all in the past. Aren''t we in good terms with the United States?"
"To the open world, yes. And even then, that''s a lie."
"How? They practically love our culture."
"And yet they still abuse our people. I''m sure you''re aware of their military bases in our land, right?"
"Yes."
"I understand they are all doing their job," explains Mishima. "But please explain to me how assaulting a minor has anything to do with protecting a country."
"But that''s only one case?"
"Incorrect. I understand that these cases are few and far between, and that the fault is put squarely on the individuals themselves. And even then, there''s a reason Okinawa detests the military bases. And to be fair, with what the American society values, are you surprised?"
"I''m not sure. Whether I''m surprised, or rather, what they believe in to begin with."
Mishima puts his elbows on his table and leans in. "Violence. They crave violence. A society that rewards sin. If you compare our crime-rate, a murder here is national news. Over there, it happens plenty of times, every day."
"What? How is that possible?"
"Access to guns. And even besides that, confrontations are frequent. When more than half the country is poor, and the government does little to help, don''t be surprised if people take it in their own hands to support themselves."
Akemi frowns, and looks down. "I didn''t realize that."
"I don''t expect you to. It''s not like you''ve been there before. The only thing you''d know from there are the burgers and cowboys. And even then, that''s far from the truth. That''s why shaping the country is how we fix this problem."
"What...shaping the country?"
"Information, Akemi. By dictating the flow of information, we can control the opposition. Just like how we eventually adopted western customs, people will eventually adopt our social structure as well. Tell me Akemi, do you value a society where people blare their music in their cars for everyone around them to hear?"
"That seems very disruptive..."
"Precisely. They''re a selfish society after all. But over time, we will win."
Akemi''s heart thumps. "Win what?"
"There is a war, Akemi. We are the capital of sorcery in the world. Yet, we have suspicions that several other branches in the world are trying to take that throne. The United States CIA is only one of those oppositions. Though we are in good standing between the country officially, we must protect our nation from whatever their government tries throw at us. I know this seems like a lot, but for now, we only need to stay vigilant."
Akemi looks blankly at Mishima. "Besides the whole CIA thing, what are you trying to say? To not save Americans? Does this include tourists?"
Mishima gives a confused look. "I''m not saying don''t save tourists. It''s still your job to do so. Save everyone that you can."
Akemi sighs out of relief. "Ah alright, nice."
"Just make sure to keep an out for who you save. You can read minds for a reason, after all."
Akemi looks up. "What are you trying to say?"
Mishima stares at Akemi. "I''m not trying to say anything. You have a good head on your shoulders after all so, I trust your judgement. Just do what you can. That is all."
Akemi looks at Mishima with worried expression. "Is there anything else you need, sir?"
"That should be all. Also, don''t tell anyone else. This is classified information, and I''m only telling you this because I''m your sponsor."
"Not even to the teachers?"
"Not even to the teachers."
"I...I see," says Akemi. Akemi stands up and bows. "Thank you for the time, sir."
"Don''t mention it."
As Akemi opens the door, Mishima calls him out: "Hey Akemi?"
Akemi turns around. "Yeah?"
"Keep up the good work." Mishima gently smiles.
Akemi''s face slowly turns into a soft smile. "I will, don''t worry."
Akemi closes the door.
The moment the door closes, Mishima''s smile evaporates back to a tired expression.
.
.
.
Out in the fields of the academy, Naoki and Yamada are sitting down on the grass. Naoki meditates, sitting down in a crossed leg position. Yamada awkwardly sits down, leaning forward, with his legs also sitting as close as possible to cross-legged.
"Say Yamada," starts Naoki. "After you turn back into a human, what are you going to do?"
Yamada ponders for a bit. "There was this person I used to like. I wish I had the confidence to tell her how I feel but, I think its far too late for that... In all honesty, I''m not sure. I just want to get out of this disgusting body and from there, restart my life anew. I wish for things to be normal again. No offense."
"None taken, its understandable."
They sit there, quietly. As Naoki''s mind sits blankly, his body pays attention to the matter surrounding it. The wind blowing by. The trees rustling softly. The ant crawling eight inches away from his right foot. And even the composition of carbon upon his fingertips.
Yamada on the other hand patiently sits. Unaccustomed to meditating, he simply breathes in and out. Yet, the main point of the exercise passes him. "Naoki?" Asks Yamada.
"Yeah what''s up?"
"Why did you save me? I understand you said you want to do the right thing, but that''s vague. I''m grateful, I truly am. And I know its a nice thing to do but...But I don''t get it."
Naoki chuckles lightly. "In simple terms, its just the cool thing to do. I know I can''t save or change the world. Hell, even a majority of my friends wouldn''t do what I did. But as long as I can save those who are close to me, and lend a hand out to a complete stranger, knowing that it''ll cause a good impact..." Naoki shrugs. "Then all is good with the world. That''s a bodhisattva''s job, you know?"
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.
Yamada''s mandibles perk up. "That''s very kind."
"Heh, yeah, I know," says Naoki with a cheesy smirk. "But with me helping others out, I hope that''ll spread some good, ya know? I mean come on, who would waste their life chasing selfish dreams. I think that''s a little weak, ya know?"
Yamada looks at the ground. His mandibles tighten. "But what if you''re wrong?" asks Yamada.
"What do you mean?"
"You say you want to help others but, there''s no guarantee that anyone will take your advice. The world is cruel, and I know that you know this. But... what if its all wasted effort?"
Naoki laughs. "Naota taught me to say ''just keep on pressing on.'' I know it''d be weak of me to give up. But the thought hasn''t escaped me. If anything, we''re lucky the stunt we pulled off even worked in the first place. But I don''t know, if all my efforts were all for naught, I think I would do what the average person would do."
"And what''s that?"
"I mean think about it... All that negativity; all that hatred. I would explode. Hopefully into a ball of fucking flames. Misery after misery. Failure after failure. Could you imagine if all the things you were taught were denied? Universal truths? Spreading goodwill? Come on now. So much for all that preaching. You''ve felt it too, haven''t you? I know you have. If a person were to say they haven''t, they''re lying. I would do what comes naturally. And so would you." Naoki stares at the ground.
Yamada turns his head. His mandibles slightly open; his antenna quiver.
Naoki eventually meets his gaze. Forcing a laugh, Naoki responds: "hehe, I''m joking. But that doesn''t matter. For now, we just gotta focus on getting you on the school''s good side. And that starts with doing some missions."
Yamada tightens his mandibles and gives a concerned look. "Uhh...yeah."
.
.
.
Out in a beach, Taberu lays down on a beach bed. The water splashes endlessly. The air is cool, and the sun is warm. No civilians are around. The seagulls chirp casually. An umbrella casts a comfortable shade above Taberu. He''s sipping on a pina colada. All is well.
"Hey," speaks out a voice.
Interrupting his summer relaxation, Taberu sits up and looks to his left. It''s Makoto.
"Oh, hey you! About time you showed up."
Makoto keeps a stern voice. "Do we really have to meet up in the most random situations possible?"
"Yup."
Taberu looks at his pupils'' face. His smile drops. "Hey what''s with the face. Did I do something?"
Makoto responds: "you did, actually. Why weren''t you at the trial?"
"...The trial?"
"The one with Naoki and the cockroach."
Taberu blankly blinks. "Because I don''t give a shit...?"
Makoto''s eye twitches.
Taberu rolls his eyes. "Oh come on, its not that deep. Why should I waste my time on someone who I''m not close to, and a stranger. It''s just like- no. You know?"
"Yeah well, as much as I agree on the stranger part, I care about Naoki. If you don''t want to support him, that''s fine. But I want to support him. And if you won''t at least show up for my sake, then-"
Taberu stands up. "Then what. Huh? What are you going to do about it?"
Makoto glares at Taberu. "Then our sponsorship is over."
Taberu purses his lips. He rolls his eyes and sits down. "Fine, fine. I''ll support the little freak next time."
Makoto sighs. "Thanks. It means a lot." She then sits down on the sand and stares at the ocean. She then starts again: "So what did you call me over here for? Besides meeting the quota."
"We''re training right now," explains Taberu.
"Ah. Riveting," comments Makoto.
They both stare at the sea for a long while. Silence.
Taberu eventually starts. "Makoto."
"Yeah?"
"Are you happy?"
She shrugs. "I''m content. Kinda." She pauses again, before starting up. "I realized... I don''t think we''re ever going to live a normal life. Like with what we have to do as our jobs, yeah- no shit. And that''s fine. I think I made peace with that a long time ago. But anytime I see a cute guy whenever I''m patrolling or whenever I''m incognito at the mall, I just kinda feel. Eh. There''s no point in dreaming of that sort of life."
"There''s plenty of guys at your school."
Makoto looks at him. "When all of the students grow up together, first of all- ew. Second of all, hanging out with girls and dating guys and looking at what the typical civilian does is kinda fruitless. Again, I''m over it now."
"So what are you feeling now?"
"I would say content. But I never expected ''content'' to feel this empty. Bored. Just bored. Is this really all that life has to offer? I have the power of deities and yet, I''m doing the equivalent of flipping burgers for the government. And now I''m just waiting for me and my friends to die. I have a feeling that there''s a higher calling for me out there. But at this point, I just don''t see it."
Taberu absorbs the explanation, and responds. "Do you think that Naoki''s way of thinking is perhaps a sort of answer to your purpose in li-"
"No. God no."
Taberu gives a surprised look at Makoto.
"I love him," explains Makoto. "I really do. And yet, he''s just...He''s just so-" She clenches her fist and pounds the ground. "He''s so STUPID. Why? Why would he do that? He thinks he''s a high and mighty savior all of a sudden, even though he''s dragging everyone into deeper shit."
Taberu smiles. "See? You get it."
"Shut up." Barks Makoto. "He''s just a kid. He''s na?ve. And I really wish that he could see it my way. I wished he could understand how fucked everything is sooner, so that way he''ll actually grow up and accept the truth of the matter. But, if this is the way he wants to live his life... Then that''s on him."
Taberu purses his lips. "I see. But what about you? What is life to you?"
Makoto takes a deep long pause. After three seconds, she responds. "I don''t know."
Taberu sighs. "Do you even know who you are? You''re a magic specialist so I''d be very disappointed if you said no."
Makoto scoffs. "Of course I do. Well...I have a basic idea of who I am."
"Basic idea? Yeah that''s probably why your magic sucks to begin with."
A vein shows up on her forehead. She furrows her brow. "That''s bogus as hell but alright. Are you going anywhere with this?"
"I am, actually." Taberu stands up and walks towards Makoto. Her eyes meet with Taberu''s cold black sunglasses. She stares back at her own reflection.
The sounds of the waves crashing become quieter.
Taberu asks a simple question: "How would you react if you died right now?"
"Is this a threat?"
"Just answer the question."
"I''d be pretty annoyed. A little pissed, even."
"Why."
"Because... I don''t want to die?"
The seagulls'' chirps instantly mute.
"Have you ever thought about killing yourself?"
Makoto ponders. "Sometimes. Not really out of depression or anything, its just one of those things that pop up in my mind. But that''s more of an idea towards dying, rather than outright suicide."
Taberu stares at his pupil. "I see. Do you care about life?"
"At the moment, not really."
Makoto''s heart beats slightly faster.
"One last thing. Do you want to find an answer? Or would you rather wallow around aimlessly for the rest of your life?"
She glares at her sponsor, before answering.
"Show me."
Taberu gets out of Makoto''s face. The sounds go back to normal. "Alright Makoto. Ask and you shall receive."
Makoto looks around. "...What was that all about?"
Taberu looks up at the sun. "I wouldn''t worry about it if I were you. However," he adjusts himself to be a couple feet away from Makoto. "At this moment, I would be saying your prayers or... moments of contemplation or whatever."
"What are you talking about?"
"Sink or swim.
Fall or fly.
Whether you want to live or die,
is all up to you now."
Taberu then plants his foot onto Makoto''s stomach and spartan kicks her. Unbeknownst to Makoto, a portal had been set behind her. As she falls down, she sees the frame of the portal, and Taberu looking down at her. Outside the portal, are clouds, and the blue sky greeting her.
"YOU FUCKING BASTAAAAAAARD," screams Makoto.
Yet her frustration fell to deaf ears, as the portal closed.
Falling, Makoto struggles to turn her body around, before using mind manipulation to aid her.
"Ho....Holy-"
She then realizes where she''s at.
"HHHH-H--H-HOLY"
Her teeth chatter. She instinctively hugs herself. Her ears instantly pop, causing a severe migraine.
"(F-F-FUCK.)" She thinks to herself. "(WHAT DO I DO...WHAT DO I DO?)"
Calculating how small everything is, on top of the fact that she''s in the sky, she estimates that she''s falling a generous fifty or so meters per second, and she has less than a minute before she meets her fate.
She frantically thinks of how to counter the situation. The wind around her is too thin to grasp. The speed she''s going at is too fast to handle. Only one spell out of her entire arsenal is viable in this situation. For the first time in peril, her mind goes blank.
She breathes in the freezing air, and breathes out. She looks at the sun to right of her. She never realized how powerless she really was. She never realized how beautiful the sun is. Her heart beats faster and faster, and it eclipses to a resounding halt.
"What if I just let go."
No more stress. No more pain. The fear of death already passed. To meet one''s fate doesn''t sound so bad. If there''s no reason for me to live, then why not take this opportunity. There is nothing for me here.
Perhaps, the other side is better after all.
She closes her eyes, and curls up in a fetal position. Twirling midair, her stomach feels light. She can''t feel her body anymore. For once, she feels at ease. Not worrying about the situation at hand. She breathes in, then out, and takes a look at what awaits her on the other side.
She gasps aloud.
She wakes up and realizes.
"THERE''S NOTHING THERE. OH MY GOD. THERE''S NOTHING THERE."
This is it.
28 seconds remaining.
The land below her gets bigger and bigger.
27.
"We only have one life."
26.
"We choose what we do with it."
25.
"Even if it takes a while,"
24.
"I refuse to waste it."
23.
"No."
22.
"NO."
21.
"Me. ME?"
20.
"Dead?"
19.
"TO HELL WITH YOU."
18.
"I REFUSE."
17.
Makoto then flashes a string of mudras.
16.
With frantic breathe and frenzied, teary eyes, she mutters a declaration.
15.
"CONVICTION FOUND; CONVICTION MADE.
DENIED EGO DEATH.
SOUL RESURRECTION.
STRENGTH RENEWED.
I.
AM.
ME."
14.
With one last mutter, she flashes a mudra and proposes one last proposal: "I sacrifice all of my magic to be used for the next 10 seconds."
13.
Staring at the air, she sees the makings of the air. Each individual molecule. Nitrogen. Oxygen. Carbon Dioxide, and so forth. Commanding the flow of the air, she denies gravity by controlling the vertices of the air, smoothly slowing her descent down.
12.
But that''s not enough.
11.
Gritting her teeth, she concentrates on the pattern of the air around her.
10.
"Come on...COME ON."
9.
From a wide blanket, the two waves of air beneath her slowly turn clockwise.
8.
The blanket morphs into a drill.
7.
From drill, to spiral.
6.
Underneath her is a vacant beach.
5.
Yet even at this speed, the sand will turn her into paste.
4.
The area becomes wider. The spiral frantically spins out of control.
3.
"GGGGRRRRYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAH"
2.
The sand gets absorbed by the walls of the air.
1.
"YOU CAN''T KILL ME."
0.
.
.
.
Taberu, a mile away, watches the giant dust devil form through binoculars. "Yeah, that''s not good.... wait what am I using these for?"
Casually jogging, Taberu walks up to the eye of dying down tornado.
Waving the air away from his face, he coughs. "You''re still alive, right?"
Silence.
...
...
...
POP.
A hand bursts out of the ground. A Makoto is underneath that hand. "I''M GONNA KICK YOUR FUCKING ASS," yells the creature.
"Oh great, she''s alive."
"Help me out of here god damn it," she grumbles.
Taberu pulls her out of the sand. "You couldn''t crawl out yourself?"
Spitting out a cup of sand, she explains: "Well for starters, my Ki is dogshit. So that would explain the broken legs right now."
Taberu looks down. He senses the two hidden legs, mangled into calcified dust. The strings of meat still containing the bone could be considered an act of miracle. "Well if I had working eyes, I''d say you''re kinda cooked."
"Yeah, you think?" Comments Makoto. "Not only that, I kind of sacrificed all of my soul to pull that stunt so, that''s out of the question too."
Taberu grunts. "So that''s what the tornadoes all about. Gotcha. Well, at least you''re alive now, right?"
"You''re an asshole, you know that?"
"Yeah. But...Ok, sure- yeah, I''ll give you that. Counterpoint: did you at least find out something about yourself?"
Makoto chuckles. With a newfound spirit, she smiles. "I did, actually."
"And that is?"
She grabs onto the sand and grits her teeth. "I''m going to become the strongest. I declare it. People will know who I am. I exist in this world, and with that, my strength will be more than enough evidence to show that I was here."
Taberu''s smile morphs into a neutral state. "That''s a bit...much. But, more power to you." He ponders a bit. "(Hmm...no...no. This won''t blow up in my face.)" "Alright Makoto. I trust that you and your batshit egotistical plan will go far so, I''ll support you."
"Thanks. By the way, you don''t mind if you carry me right?"
"Yeah no worries. Besides, we need to get out of here. I can sense the cops and reporters coming soon. By the way how are you not screaming?"
"Oh trust me, the epinephrine running through my body is the only thing preventing me from screaming. It''s running thin though so yeah, take me to Professor Gretchen as quick as possible."
"Yup, on it."
Taberu picks up his student, make a portal, and walks straight though towards Gretchen''s office.
.
.
.
Meanwhile, at the Kyoto townhall, five tank-topped clad men of various shapes and sizes, all sit in the same row.
"Are you ready boss?" Asks the biggest and burliest of the group.
The one wearing a bandana smiles. "Patience my friend. Kyoto will see their next mayor, very soon."
『Chapter 18: Mayor』
8 PM
At the Kyoto town hall.
Several men and women, primarily in their 30s to 60s, sit in the benches. After a meeting that has gone on for an hour, a female master of ceremony goes up to the podium. She is wearing a professional outfit (fit for a woman). The current mayor of Kyoto sits down with crossed arms. Not too far from him, is a row of tank-top clad men.
"We would like to remind you all that the Kyoto Gion Festival will be occurring in a couple months. Please be sure to alert your friends and neighbors."
People clap.
"We would also like to announce that the Kyoto mayoral elections are closing in within a couple weeks. Make sure to vote!"
People clap.
"And we have one more speaker who would like to present themselves tonight. They are a self-proclaimed candidate running for mayor. Please give it up for Mr. Ushiyama Kitoooo!"
People clap.
Getting up from their chairs, the row of tank-top clad men all stand up and walk up to the podium. The audience whisper and murmur at the people in front of them.
On the stage, five men all stand up and pose with their muscles visibly flexed.
On the far left is a tall, Japanese man with an eerily big smile. He has a buzz cut, long eyebrows, as well as a goatee. Some people in the audience recognize him: that''s Kasumi Murobuchi! A semi-popular professional bodybuilder in Japan. He consistently gets third place at many competitions.
Next to him is a large, hairy, burly man. Easily the biggest of the group standing at around 6''6". His wide torso, tree trunk arms, and stumps for legs eclipses the frail security guard in the room. He has natural, red spikey hair that is swept back. He also has a beard that shapes his face. He sports a genuine smile.
To the left of the podium, stands a blonde foreigner with short spikey hair; he looks European. He has sharp facial features, a pointed nose, and black wifebeater that sticks to his skin, rather than the typical black tanktop the others have. His muscles are toned, yet his pose and face seem the least enthusiastic compared to the other men.
To the far right of the stage is the most lanky figure of the group. Their silhouette stills seems young; most likely a kid in their late teens or early 20s. That being said, they still seem built and intimidating. At least, compared to the average Japanese citizen. Noticeably, "silhouette" is the most accurate word to describe him, for his face, body, and any exposed skin is a mass of shifting scribbles and black blotches. Everybody sees it. The constantly moving squiggles and lines that is the kid''s skin. Yet, even those who whisper about it fear talking about it. "Must be a severe skin condition..." mutters one woman in the audience to another.
And finally, up in center stage is the leader of the group: Ushiyama Kito. Easily with the most balanced physique of them all, he sports a bandana on his head, as well as an infectious smile that brightens up the mood. Despite running for mayor, he''s the last one to join or proclaim that they''re running for the spot. A shade is cast over his eyes due to the bandana.
Kito looks around at the room and raises his arms. "Good evening, members of Kyoto. My name is Ushiyama Kito. I have been living in our beloved city for all my life. And yet, as much as I appreciate the city''s work, in terms of the last few years, I have to admit that I am ultimately, disappointed."
The mayor instantly frowns.
"Do you, fellow citizen, remember the golden age?" Says Kito, pointing at a random audience member. "I do," continues Kito. "I remember five to ten years ago, it wasn''t like this. It was all fine and dandy. The economy was good, and the harbor wasn''t under peril. And now, its gotten worse I''m afraid..."
Some of the audience members nod.
"You see, as much as I want to give the current party a chance... I don''t want to. They''ve had their shot and now, it''s up to a real man to fix our problems once and for all. A leader that actually cares for their community, and isn''t wasting their time with increasing taxes and bowing down to the American dogs."
"Yeah..." mutters a fifty year old audience member under his breath.
"This isn''t the Kyoto I grew up in. No. God no. So its up to me- no, its up to us, to bring back Kyoto to its former glory. And with that, we can convince our sister provinces to follow along. I don''t know about you, but I''M tired. And I think its about time the government actually did its job. WHO AGREES?"
Most people in the crowd smile.
A fishing reel is set out.
"That''s what I thought. As a matter of fact, dear Mr. Mayor of Kyoto," says Kito pointing at the mayor. "If I were you, I would resign in a week''s notice. Or else your heart will stop due to the burden you carry. Won''t you agree?"
Kito tugs and reels the line back in. "(Come on....)" Thinks the candidate to himself.
Most people''s faces freeze. The few who didn''t pause, look closer at the mayor with baited breaths.
The mayor stares at Kito with a displeased face. The mayor rests his fist on his cheek.
"(COME ON....)"
"Well?" Asks Kito, still looking at the mayor. Most of the audience murmur. Kito''s men still hold their poses, quietly sweating.
The security guard speaks in his walky talky. He slowly walks up the side of the stage, ready to get the men off.
The mayor rolls his eyes. With a scrunched up nose, he finally responds in a sarcastic tone. "Sure."
Kito reels it in. He greets the tuna in his grasp.
Kito smiles. "I''m glad. At least that way you''ll do your province a service." Kito cackles before waving it off. "I''m kidding of course. Well anyway, with me as mayor, I promise we''ll strongarm the province back to better times with our own hands. Mark my words." He then finally strikes a pose with a big sharp grin on his face. The audience give a round of confused applause. The men get off the stage and sit back down.
"Did we do it boss?" Asks the big burly goon.
"Oh yes we did, Bara. Hook, line, and sinker."
.
.
.
Thirty minutes after the meeting ends, the five men sit down at a restaurant. A waitress greets them.
"Here''s the menu," she says. "Would any of you be interested in beer?"
Kito shakes his head. "No, none of us. Beer makes you fat. We will all take water, please. And whatever the rest of them want."
"Can I drink cola, Kito sensei?" Asks the mass of scribbles and blotches.
"Of course, Daiki. Today is a special victory after all." The leader then turns to the waitress. "I''m pretty sure that''s all, thank you."
The waitress walks away to get the drinks. As the other men talk, the blonde member stares at the waitresses'' figure.
"So what did you do, boss?" Asks Bara, the big burly member.
"Oh nothing special. I simply made a contract with the mayor. It was a lot easier than expected but hey, as long as it''s done, I don''t care."
"What happens if he didn''t agree?" Asks the foreign member.
"I''m glad you asked, Robert. It''s a close call really. All of it. We could have been kicked out a lot sooner but, we didn''t. And that''s good thing or else, we''d have to go with plan B, C, or D, and actually get our hands dirty. But glad we didn''t have to resort to that, pahahaha!"
The customers close to their table look visibly confused and/or, annoyed.
"Wow...You''re so amazing, boss!" Compliments Bara.
"Heh, yeah. I know."
"So what are your first plans of business as mayor?" Asks Bara.
"For the first order of business, all protein powders and gym equipment shall be exempt from taxes.
For the second order of business, all laws made within the past five to ten years shall be rendered null."
Bara stares in astonishment. Daiki, the kid, and Kasumi, the professional bodybuilder, both clap.
"Say," starts Kasumi. "What''s our campaign fund at the moment?"
Kito puts his hand on his chin. He thinks for a second. "So if we take what I make in a week, subtract rent and food... carry the two...
About 2,000 yen."
The members all stare him.
"That''s... not a lot," says Kasumi.
"Not to worry fellas. Kasumi, with your permission, am I allowed to borrow some of your earnings for the campaign? I''ll only take a bit."
"Yes, that''s fine. But what are you going to do with the rest?"
Kito chuckles. "I understand that the internet is a tool. In the right hands, anyone can be known for anything. On one hand, it''s lets machines dictate chance. On the other, I''ll be using the technique that''s been in human history for thousands of year: word of mouth. Both on and off camera, I''ll be gaining traction. No matter how ridiculous it may seem, any publicity is good publicity. I will be a local legend. And most importantly, it will all be cheaper than spending thousands of dollars on ad campaigns."
He raises his glass of water. The rest of the members do so as well.
"Let''s eat."
.
.
.
At the Academy, Naoki talks to Yamada. They''re in Naoki''s room.
The cockroach looks at the cramped living quarters. One corner has a large computer. GUNDAM figurines litter the shelves. There''s posters of Shin Megami Tensei and Tekken all over the wall and ceiling. Dirty laundry still hasn''t been picked up from the floor.
"Excuse the mess. I wasn''t expecting visitors," explains Naoki.
"You''re the one who took me here in the first place but... alright..." Comments Yamada.
Naoki rolls his eyes. "Anyway, patrol duty for sorcerers happens all throughout the day. Some of them are out and about in the day time, disguised, while most go out in the night time. Seeing as you are the way you are, we''re gonna go patrolling in the night time. So that you don''t accidentally give someone a heart attack."
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Yamada rolls his large pupils. "Yes, I understand."
"Glad you do. Quick little note, when I was signing up for shifts, Naota told me someone''s going to join us later in the night. She''s coming in a little late due to airport shenanigans. But aside from that, its just me showing you the ropes for tonight."
Yamada raises his hand.
"You don''t have to raise your hand I''m literally right in front of you," says Naoki.
"Sorry, force of habit," explains Yamada. "I don''t have any powers yet aside from my physiology. Won''t that be an issue?"
Naoki laughs. "Yes!"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"...So wouldn''t it be dangerous to go patrolling without powers?"
"Good eye, Yamada. Here''s the thing though: you and I both have leashes on our necks. Mishima can turn them into nooses practically any moment he wants if he tries hard enough. So my logic is: A. the sooner we go out there and do things, the sooner they''ll let us go. And B. I patrol alone anyway. So me having you as the babysitt- I mean, you having me as your babysitter should be all good. You''ve got the Naoki seal of approval." Naoki then shoots a cheeky grin and a thumbs up at Yamada. His teeth sparkle.
"Now I trust you even less."
.
.
.
1 AM
Up in the roofs of a commercial area, Yamada sits atop of AC units. Climbing up the ladder, Naoki carefully uses telekinesis to carry an anpan and coffee. "See anything? Asks the teenager.
Yamada sighs. "Not in the slightest. It''s just people walking the streets."
Naoki hands the coffee to Yamada. "Thank you," says the cockroach.
Silence. They stare at the town beneath them. Little lives living little lives. Yamada stares. His eyes twitch. Naoki looks at the cockroach.
"You know Yamada, as much as I want you to see my way, I can''t force you. But I''ll still try." Naoki smiles.
Yamada''s mandibles tighten up a bit. "I don''t disagree with you, Naoki. It''s just that I find it very hard to care about strangers. I''ll still save them its just... I mean I don''t get it. What if I asked you why do you care about these people? How, rather. I understand you''re trying to do the right thing, but what about the individual person?"
Naoki quietly chuckles. "Man, you''re sounding a lot like me from back then. But just think about it this way: let''s say there''s a stranger. Think about them as if they were your family or friend. If they''re getting mugged, wouldn''t you help? Especially with your new powers and all? What if you were getting mugged. Wouldn''t you appreciate a helping hand? It''s called basic empathy."
Yamada quietly grumbles. "Yeah, I would''ve appreciated a helping hand when this happened to me..."
Naoki shoots a side eye to Yamada. "You just proved my point. There''s no guarantee there will be help. But with more people like you and me around, the helpless can be helped. And the chances of things like these happening are lowered."
Yamada quietly grumbles. "I guess..."
They both quiet down for a long stretch of minutes.
Naoki glances over to the east side of the town. "Yamada."
"What is it now?"
"We have to go. I sense something half a mile away from here."
Yamada gets up and leaves his coffee cup. "Alright. You just point towards the direction." The cockroach then flutters his wings to a rapid degree. He slowly hovers above the ground. Naoki then grabs Yamada''s legs and holds on tight with his iron bending pinch strength.
"OW- not too hard," hisses Yamada.
"My bad. I just don''t wanna die. It''s over around that area by the way," says Naoki, letting one hand go and pointing towards a direction.
To avoid being seen, Yamada quickly flies up fifty meters above the building, and flutters towards the area.
.
.
.
Up above near the harbor, Naoki spots a person willingly walking towards the end of the dock. Naoki focuses his eyes more. "(No they''re... stumbling?)" He thinks to himself.
As the man walks closer to the edge, Naoki lets go of Yamada''s feet. "Wait, Naoki!"
Naoki falls towards the water. While in mid-air, he sees the man holding a bottle. The man then trips and falls into the water as well. "(No- damn it.)"
Diving, Naoki looks underwater. He sees the inebriated fellow rapidly sinking towards the ground. Naoki swims at a rapid pace towards the man, eventually hoisting him back up atop the surface of the water. Naoki spits out some water and forces the man to cough up some water as well. "Are you okay, sir?"
"Hhhnnhnmmmmggbbbmmmm..." mumbles the man.
Swimming towards the shore, Naoki pumps the remaining water out of the man. "(The hell is a drunk man doing out here?)" Naoki thinks to himself.
A fluttering noise comes down behind Naoki. Yamada gently lands. "What happened?" Asks the cockroach.
"I don''t know but, this man was about to walk into the water. He was holding a bottle but... even if he was drunk, there''s very little reason for him to do this. Suicide is one thing but..."
"Is this what you sensed here?" Asks Yamada.
"No... hang on, let me read this guy''s thoughts."
Pressing his thumb onto the semi-unconscious man''s forehead, Naoki reads the man''s memories from the past ten minutes. "Eight shots of whiskey. Goaded by another. Grey hand. Third eye..."
Naoki takes his hand off of the man. "Yeah, fuck that liver I guess; it''s your life. More importantly-" Naoki stands up. "I have a strong suspicion that this was done by a-"
A finger taps behind Naoki''s shoulder.
The teenager turns around, only to be greeted by a strong, snappy roundhouse to the face.
Naoki stumbles to the ground, holding his nose. Yamada looks up. It takes him a second but the air is moving. A silhouette of a figure calls out to him.
"...H..ey...ou...as...hole..."
Yamada squints his eyes. The makings of the air become clearer, as the silhouette becomes more pronounced.
"HE...YO....A....HOLE"
Slowly yet surely, the side effect of Yamada''s curse takes effect, as he recognizes his first spirit in real time.
A Japanese Yanki gangster with grey skin, a black and orange pompadour, a biker jacket stained in what''s presumably his own blood, and long, baggy pants. He stands at around 5''10". His pompadour has a big hole in the center of it. The figure is cracking its knuckles.
"HEY. YOU. ASSHOLE. CAN YOU UNDERSTAND ME NOW?"
Yamada stares.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"
The cockroach then proceeds to get on all six and skitter away at mach speed.
Naoki, still holding his nose has his mouth agape.
The spirit looks down at Naoki. "Your friend''s a bit of a pus-"
"I KNOW." Barks Naoki. "It''s his first time so I don''t blame him. Would appreciate if he didn''t leave me behind though."
The spirit begins to whip out a spiritual cigarette and sparks a phantasmic, fat doobie. "So what''s up with you? Asshole."
Naoki gets up. "Ok, rude. What''s up with you?"
"None of your damn business. Just leave the man here and I''ll let you live."
Naoki laughs. "PAHA. You''re funny if you think you''re going to do anything here."
The spirit scrunges up its nose. "If you don''t take you and your ugly ass laugh back the way you came from, I''ll just do it for you. Asshole."
"Tch." Naoki grins and cracks his knuckles. "I''d like to see you try."
The spirit looks down at Naoki and stands there. He huffs through his nose. "Let''s play a game." Says the spirit. He then puts his hand into his pompadour''s socket and pulls out a beer bottle. "Care for a drink, asshole?"
Naoki rolls his eyes. "First of all, I can''t. Second of all, beer makes you fat. Everyone knows this."
As Naoki talks, the spirit spirals the bottle in his mouth and chugs it in one fell swoop. "Aaaagh~ Nothing beats Sapporo."
Naoki''s eyes furrow. "If I had to guess, you died from a failed liver didn''t y-"
Thick knuckles crash down on Naoki''s temple, launching and spinning him mid-air. Once Naoki lands, he holds the side of his head and screams: "You jackass I was talking! Who punches someone midsent-"
The pompadour punk sprints towards Naoki and aims to kick Naoki''s head. Naoki however, catches the leg and rolls around on the ground, instantly applying a heel hook. He pulls with as much force as possible, intending to snap the foot''s tendon.
Unfortunately, getting accustomed to fighting sorcerers has hard-wired Naoki to this habit. For people in the physical world, this is perfect. For spirits however-
The punk gives a disgruntled look, and chops his own foot off, before crawling away rapidly. Naoki looks at the dismembered spiritual foot in his hand, before it melts into a bluish-gray goo. The punk on the other hand, stands up and kicks his leg outward, with a new foot popping out.
Naoki gets up and thinks to himself. "(That''s not annoying as shit, no; never!)" He rolls his eyes and circles around the gangster. "(Since spirits can do that, there''s two conclusions. Either A. He didn''t want to sacrifice his ki and move with a broken foot, so he traded some of his soul to make a new foot. Or. B. He has high magic proficiency and traded it at a low cost.)"
Naoki massages the side of his head. His ears are ringing. "(But those strikes packed a punch, so its probably the former.)"
As Naoki circles around and thinks to himself, the spirit does himself a favor and whips out another bottle. This time a large, thick, rectangular bottle. He quickly uncaps the hard liqueur and starts downing it.
Naoki stops and looks at him. "Stop drinking god damn it. No seriously, stop it. Don''t you think that''s enough?"
"(Damn it, no way I''m actually getting concerned for this guy.)"
The spirit chugs the spirit in five gulps. The pompadour prick licks his lips. "Nope~"
Charging in, the spirit still keeps his composure, throwing haymaker after haymaker against Naoki. Naoki dodges and parries all of the blows, countering with swift, ki-infused hooks and uppercuts. Yet, no matter how many sledges to the liver, or how many wallops to the chin, the spirit doesn''t let up.
Naoki gives a concerned look. The punk notices this and smirks.
"[Neuropathy Entrope]. The more I drink, the less I feel. The less I feel drunk. I mean numb. The less- wait, the more I feel numb. Yeah. First try."
"Oh my god...." comments Naoki to himself. "He''s already zonked..."
The spirit grimaces and continues rushing in, grabbing a hold of Naoki''s hat and stuffing it down the teenager''s face. Holding on to the hat, he control''s Naoki''s head and starts kneeing the boy in the chest and stomach.
Naoki audibly grunts with each knee, barely handling the knee as they impact his chest. "(DAMN. Even though he''s inebriated he still hits like a motherfucker.)"
"Get OFF me," yells Naoki, catching the knee and tripping the spirit. He then circles around the stumbling ghost and soccer kicks the spirit in the head.
"THAT''S WHAT IT FEELS LIKE YOU ASSHOLE."
Grunting, the spirit begins to bleed. Fervently crawling towards Naoki, the spirit wildly flails his arms in a similar fashion from when he was throwing his haymakers. Naoki backpedals and swerves around the strikes. And yet, Naoki realizes what the spirit is doing.
"(No way...he''s out-boxing me with his arms...how is he still capable of thinking semi-strategically?)"
As Naoki tries to close the distance, the spirit backpedals. As the spirit swings, Naoki ducks or sidesteps, leading back to square one.
"To hell with this," comments Naoki. He whips out his flute from his pocket and rears it near his mouth. Scrambling, the ghost rushes forward, unfamiliar to the pace he was going before.
"Holy SHIT-" Naoki runs back, only for the drunken rage to catch up to him quickly. "(I can''t really make a tune if I''m breathing in and out from running.)"
Naoki instinctively hardens his ki, readying for an impact from the haymakers. He then realizes that the spirit wasn''t aiming to strike him. In actuality, the spirit latches on to Naoki.
"A grab again?" Naoki puts his arms in front of his chest and stomach, readying to catch the knee once more.
Only for the spirit to use his free hand to pull a new bottle from his pompadour, and infuses the materialized beverage with Ki.
Without Ki, a bottle (or any everyday object) hitting against a ki infused sorcerer might as well be made out of cardboard or cheap china plastic.
With Ki however-
CRASH.
The punk smashes the bottle straight into Naoki''s face.
Naoki, holding his face, spits out blood and glass before frantically yelling. "ITS IN MY EYES. ITS IN MY FUCKING EYE-"
The punk clocks Naoki again in the jaw.
The now blinded Naoki is on his knees and tries to concentrate. The rustling of the sand. The loud frantic pace of the footsteps. The vaguely prick-shaped silhouette running towards him.
"(Three meters away, to the right. He''s going for an insanely telegraphed haymaker.)"
Waiting for the timing, Naoki slightly adjusts himself sidewise.
"GRRRAAAAAAAAAAHHH" Yells the inebriated spirit.
"And with you yelling, you just made this easier," comments Naoki.
As the spirit lowers his fist down, intending to cave Naoki''s head in, Naoki semi-stands up, wraps his arm around the spirit''s arm, and uses the spirit''s own momentum against him. The physical world doesn''t necessarily hurt spirits. However, sometimes a cardboard trap can still ensure victory.
THWACK.
The spirit gets slammed on the ground, his back planted into the sand. Even if it didn''t hurt, he''s still stuck. There, the spirit greets his executioner.
With his eyes still bleeding, Naoki forces them open, and raises his foot right above the punk''s head. "Any last words, asshole?"
The spirit in turn, stares into Naoki''s red eyes, and opens his mouth. An eyeball with three diagonal lines as its pupil, fills up the spirit''s mouth.
[Share the shot]
"?????????? ????."
Responds the spirit in a distant, cold tone.
The effects of an entire bottle''s worth of hard liquor (plus a beer), impacts Naoki''s psyche.
Immediately, Naoki lets go of the spirit''s arm and stumbles back. A massive migraine hits him. His vision is wobbly. His sense of balanced is skewed. He too, feels numb. "Oh f-f-f-f...."
Naoki turns to his side and feels sick. Retching, he gets on all fours.
The punk stands up, closes his mouth, re-models his messed up pompadour, and starts sprinting towards Naoki. "When you go to the afterlife, and your creator asks for a name-"
"(I sacrifice 20% of my Ki for the next attack)." Declares the spirit to himself.
Winding up his leg, the spirit aims for Naoki''s stomach.
"TELL HIM SAIZO SENT YOU."
THWACK
A kick so hard it lifts Naoki off the ground. The teenager immediately vomits. Picking the inebriated sorcerer up, Saizo drags him to the ocean and starts shoving his head underwater.
"You think you can just walk into MY business in the afterlife? When people still owed me MY money, they think they can just- walk away?"
Naoki frantically kicks and flails around, gargling and struggling for air.
"No one disrespects Saizo. Not in my life. And certainly, not even when I''M DEAD."
Naoki grips onto Saizo''s wrists, and infuses Ki into his fingers. Aiming to cut the spirit''s wrist in half, or make him bleed, Saizo still presses on. The spirit hardens himself with his own Ki to counteract Naoki''s plan.
"In the next life, don''t get into someone else''s busin-"
THWOOOM
The next second, Naoki sits up and gasps for as much air as possible. Saizo is gone. Naoki looks around.
Up in the air, Yamada holds onto Saizo by the clothes. "PUT ME DOWN YOU ASSHOLE."
"If you insist..."
Yamada then careens towards the ground, and accelerates faster, using the pavement as an impromptu cheese-grater, turning the spirit into a gooey pile of yuegh.
Yamada finally lets go, as all that remains of Saizo is a thick, messy pile of clay and spiritual gore.
Yamada breathes in, then out, before running back towards the shore.
"Naoki! Are you alright? I''m so sorry."
"GGGRAARRGHHGGHFPPPTTTOOOOooooooo," says Naoki, spitting out water. He then points towards Yamada. "K...Ki."
"...What?"
"K-Ki...you- you- *hic* you dii int youse...KI."
Yamada finally turns around.
Saizo is back up, with his face reshapen back to its former glory.
"Kinda smart. However, you chose the wrong Yanki to piss off...
...
Asshole."
Yamada''s antenna quiver. His mandibles tighten, and he bears his fangs. He lowers himself to his cockroach stance.
『Chapter 19: Round 2』
A couple days prior.
Out in the academy''s sandy, sunny field. Yamada gasps for air, as he rests his hands on his knees. Naoki facepalms. They have been there for an hour. Both are mentally exhausted. Yet, Yamada is also physically strained.
"Mm-mm." Commented Naoki, shaking his head from side to side. "Try again."
Yamada''s mandibles tightened. He stood back up straight, and tried to throw a punch, using the same tips that Naoki explained. He started from the bottom with his legs, slowly twisting them upwards until his body twists, eventually reaching his arms. Yamada tried to throw a punch. Yet he fell over on his chest.
Naoki shook his head again. "Have you never thrown a punch before?"
Yamada got up and dusted himself off. "No."
Naoki is taken aback. "How?"
Yamada sternly looked at him. "I know you live a far different life than I do, but trust me, not every single person in the streets get in scuffles."
"Mmmm. I disagree, at least from what I''ve seen. Sure maybe not as adults, but kids get up to that stuff. Whether it be defending from a bully or *being* the bully. Everyone clenches their fist."
Yamada gritted his teeth. "Yeah well not me."
"Why not?"
Yamada glared at Naoki. "I ask myself that everyday. Now can we just get this over with?"
"Sure. Once you do a proper punch."
Yamada slowly turned his body and tried to punch again. He was rendered unbalanced, yet again.
"Damn. You suck, dude." Commented Naoki.
Gritting his teeth, Yamada got up, walked over to Naoki and put his hands on the teenager, yelling: "NAOKI. MY BODY IS SHAPED LIKE A FUCKING OVAL. WHAT DO YOU NOT GET?"
Naoki glared at the cockroach. "Okay, first of all, calm down." He slapped the cockroach''s hands away. "Second of all, my bad. I didn''t know it would be this hard but now I know. I''m sorry, ok?"
Yamada let go of Naoki and backed up.
Naoki breathed in and out before starting. "Look, I know we''ve been here for while, doing the same thing over and over again. I''m just as tired as you are. But if I don''t teach you how to at least punch? You''re going to die. Just straight up."
"Yeah well, with what''s practically a disability, how the hell do you think I''m going to do that?" Scoffed the insect.
Naoki ponders for a sec. "(Disability, huh?)" Thought the teenager to himself. "(Well then... we just have to play to his strengths.)" Naoki took a long good look at Yamada.
Lightbulb.
"Hey Yamada, you''ve seen Jojo before, right?"
.
.
.
Present day
1:18 AM
Yamada assumes his cockroach stance. All six legs plant themselves to the ground, slightly pulling his body back like a large, cockroach-shaped slingshot.
Saizo simply stands on the border between where the pavement of the road ends and the sand of the harbor begins. The spirit pulls a large bottle out of his pompadour. He looks at it: it''s a large, slim bottle of vodka. "Just my lucky day." Saizo uncaps the bottle and starts chugging. He holds his finger up as if signifying to Yamada "hold on a second."
Yamada''s antenna twitch.
Pausing, the spirit stops drinking. Only half the bottle remains. He wipes his mouth and slurs at Yamada. "So...you rrready for round tw-"
THWOOM.
When facing danger, cockroaches unleash bursts of speed fit to outrun most predators. Having utilized this before without realizing, and honing it at the short stay at the academy, Yamada slingshots himself towards Saizo. 322 Kilometers per hour; 89 meters per second. With a Ki infused body, Yamada crashes straight into Saizo''s stomach.
[Cockroach Dash] series: [Cockroach Bash].
"HWOOOG-"
The punk''s eyes jut out for a split second as the oversized cockroach rams into him. The greater spirit is launched backwards, splatting onto the wall of a factory that was behind him. The bottle breaks into dust as it shatters on the wall.
Grunting, the spirit thinks to himself. "(Damn it, I''m stuck! If I lower my Ki to phase through the wall, a few hits from the cockroach will kill me. But if I keep my Ki intact, it''ll react to the material world and keep me here for a couple more seconds...I''ll just have to brace for-)"
Interrupting the spirit''s train of thought, Yamada skitters towards the spirit. "(Just play towards my strength, huh?)" Thinks Yamada to himself. "(If you insist.)"
Standing up, face to face with the stuck opponent, Yamada cocks his four arms up. "(I may not know how to properly throw a punch. But if I already have Ki infused fists-
then quantity can still mean quality.)"
[Periplaneta Repeater]
Due to Yamada being physically incapable of throwing a proper punch, he instead insisted on using what he has. With his four arms, one punches at a time. Immediately afterwards, the one diagonally opposite to that one, throws a punch. Then the one vertically aligned to that throws one. Then the one diagonal to the latter throws a punch, repeating the process. Working exactly like an engine, Yamada cycles through the punches, not letting up the pressure. Cycle and repetition; a gatling gun of fists. Yamada presses on, wall comboing Saizo, punching him so many times it pushes the spirit deeper into the wall.
The punches on the spirit''s body, combined with the chain reaction of the wall tearing apart, cracks thunderous sounds. Like a jackhammer chipping away at concrete.
T-RR-RR-RR-RR-RR-RR-RR-RR.
Yamada on the other hand, yells as he presses on. "ORA-ORA-ORA-ORA-ORA-ORA-ORA-ORA-ORA-ORA-ORA-ORA!"
Saizo, peppered by copious amounts of fists, increases the output of his Ki for the sake of durability. "(Just...have to...wait until he''s-)"
Yamada stops all of a sudden. For a split second, Saizo tries to seize the opportunity to get out of the crevice. Unfortunately for him, this just opened a wider window for Yamada''s delayed attack.
Cocking back all of his arms, Yamada simultaneously strikes with all four arms, pushing forward with all his might.
"[STINGER]." Yells Yamada.
A thunderous CRACK occurs.
Finally, Saizo is punched through the brick wall, making a large crevice on the building. Dust arises, blinding the cockroach. Yamada steps back from the hole and looks around.
"That was loud...but I don''t hear or smell anyone coming by..."
Yamada then looks back at the hole. The dust slowly settles, and a figure makes themselves known. Standing up confidently, Saizo wipes the blood off the corner of his mouth. Despite being able to remodel himself, the damage from Ki is still visible on the gangster. Cuts, bruises, and scratches still pepper Saizo. His pompadour droops down to long, messy hair. And yet, he still stands.
The spirit scoffs. "And even after all that." Saizo spits on the ground. "You still hit like a bitch."
Yamada slowly back ups and thinks to himself. "(How? That was everything I had.)" Unbeknownst to him, Yamada''s body quietly trembles. His fists are ringing, pulsing and aching. His body is hot, and his breathing is haggard.
Saizo steps over the crevice and walks onto the road, staring the cockroach down. Saizo gives off a disgusted look. "You''ve never fought before, have you?" Asks the spirit.
"W-what?"
"I can feel it in your fists. Weak. Limp dicked. You''re no man. I could smell you''re a virgin the moment I first saw you."
The gangster slowly circles around, and continues to talk. "And even then, you still ran away. Pussy."
Yamada''s mandibles twitch. Yamada tries to think of something. Yet nothing comes out of his mouth. The cockroach proceeds to get on all six. The gangster still circles around.
"(He finally stanced up)" Thinks Saizo to himself. "You''re scared." Says the gangster. "Your body is shaking. And you can''t even take one spirit down?" The gangster scoffs.
Saizo finally stops walking and stands directly in front of the cockroach. He glares at the insect. The spirit slightly hunches his body forward. "You''re not even going to fight back? Tch."
Frustrated, Yamada finally lets up.
[Cockroach Ba-]
"(I got you.)" Thinks Saizo.
There''s a reason fights must be fought with a level head.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
With his body hunched forward, Saizo pre-emptively sprawls, putting his arms forward and catches Yamada''s shoulders. Or rather, have Yamada ram himself into Saizo''s arms. Despite skittering at high speeds, Yamada''s dash gets stuffed, getting slower and slower. Yamada struggles, as the spirit wraps his arms around Yamada''s neck.
Feeling his neck getting tighter, Yamada thinks to himself. "(Shit, it feels like I''m fighting Naoki! But how do I counter this?)" Yamada frantically tries to remember how to fight against Naoki''s grasp. But after fetching past the couple days'' worth of sparring or rather, beatings, Yamada finally remembers.
"(He hasn''t taught me how to counter this yet! Quick, I have to push him towards a wall so that I can at least...do something.)"
With Yamada''s dash slowing down, Saizo looks behind him. It''s a good thing that despite being in the middle of the road, Saizo made sure to position himself towards the road itself, and not with buildings behind him. "Hmph." Snorts the gangster.
Feeling Yamada quickly tire out, Saizo picks up the cockroach by the neck and torso, and hoists him up in the air. The insect''s legs frantically flail, as Yamada feels himself get picked up and held for a solid second. "WAIT WAIT WAIT HEY-" cries Yamada. The cockroach tries his hardest to flap his wings and wave his body weight around. But the strength of the Yanki is too much.
Saizo turns his head and whispers to the upside down Yamada: "I can''t get hurt from the physical world. But I know you can."
Street Style Pro Wrestling: Brainbuster suplex
With an angered grunt, Saizo slams Yamada''s head and back onto the concrete. An audible crack is heard coming from Yamada''s wings. Yellow blood leaks out on the ground. Panicking, Yamada frantically flails his legs. Yet the insect is stuck with his back on the ground.
Getting up, Saizo grits his teeth, remembers what Naoki did to him, and angrily yells.
"HERE, LET ME HELP."
THWACK.
Saizo soccer kicks Yamada''s head, finally turning the insect around.
A migraine instantly hits Yamada, as blood seeps from the side of his head, down to his chin. Though he''s on the ground on all six now, Yamada still struggles. A painful haze envelops his mind. Everything becomes blurry. The insect''s body trembles, teetering on defeat.
Saizo, with a semi-surprised look, glares at Yamada. "You know, I killed someone like that before," says the gangster. "You''re one tough asshole, I''ll give you that much."
Yamada, slowly mustering the strength to stand up, regains his bearings. The ground becomes less fuzzy. The silhouette that was Saizo becomes clearer. Yamada stops trembling.
There are two responses that all creatures in the world share when it comes to being eaten. The first is fear, where a self induced paralysis stops the prey from moving, and overwhelms the body with hormones, fit to make the imminent death as painless as possible.
The other is rage.
Saizo, still glaring, asks Yamada. "What''s up with you?"
"You..." slurs Yamada. "You would brag about killing someone?"
"Tch. Of course I would. I won that fight after all."
The insect bears its fangs.
"(Of course.)" Thinks Yamada to himself. "(I understand you now, Naoki. Why you''re so annoying about your philosophy. It''s less about protecting the innocent and the weak, and more about killing those who don''t deserve to live anymore. What good would people like him bring to the world? People like you...)"
"People like you..." Quietly mutters Yamada.
Saizo cocks his eyebrow and cups his hand around his ear. "HM? What''s that? You got something to say?"
"(The damage to his head wasn''t enough.)" Thinks Saizo. "(I need to end this as soon as possible.)"
Yamada quietly hisses, clenches his fists and hobbles over to Saizo. Saizo in turn, opens his mouth and meets Yamada''s angered gaze with his own hateful third eye.
[Share the shot]
"(Yes, asshole. Look at me.)"
All of the liquor inside Saizo instantly transfers to Yamada''s mind. The insect''s migraine becomes worse. He gets on his knees and holds onto his head, as it pulses and aches. Yamada groans, frothing at the mouth.
Saizo, with quiet satisfaction, smiles. "(Guess that hit him good. However, now that I don''t have alcohol within me, I can''t use [Neuropathy Entrope] anymore. And since my pompadour still needs some time to heal, I can''t make any more bottles in the meantime. And that''s not including how expensive it is to make one of those damn things.)" With an annoyed look, Saizo rolls his eyes as he realizes one last flaw. "(And worst of all, now I''m SOBER AGAIN.")
The gangster glances up. His face morphs from one of annoyance to confusion.
"You think that would help you?" Slurs Yamada.
Though stunned, the large cockroach stands on his legs, if just barely. Swaying side to side, Yamada clenches his fist and readies them near his face.
"You think... getting me all fucked up would make me fight any worse...? Bitch..."
Yamada wakes himself up by punching his own cheek. With reawakened vigor, Yamada, with half a bottle''s worth of vodka affecting his mind, makes it clear through clenched teeth.
"You underestimate the alcoholic tolerance of someone who had very little to begin with."
Saizo furrows his brow. "The fuck...?" His heart begins to beat harder. Even though spirits have a vague structure of their human pasts, they can''t produce actual hormones. Yet the sensation or rather, memories of specific sensations can still be felt. For in this moment, Saizo''s heart skips a beat.
"(What...What is this?)"
Saizo too, grits his teeth, and clenches his fist. "Damn it, the fuck are you trying to say?"
"I''m going to kick your ass you piece of shit." Growls Yamada.
Saizo''s nose wrinkles up. He reforms his body, mimicking taking off his coat. Just like his good old days, he exposes his scarred, bare chest. He breathes in then out. Then in. And in. And in, holding as much air as possible. His chest expands wider. His back becomes greater, taking a bodybuilder''s distinct V shape.
Yamada then realizes. Even though Saizo''s body still takes the form of a human, the shape of his chest couldn''t be more pronounced.
"(...An engine?)" Thinks Yamada.
Holding a karate stance with his fists by his side, Saizo stances up. Visible smoke leaks out of Saizo''s mouth. "Get ready, asshole."
The both of them stare at each other. They know what''s coming. Snarling, revving, their brewed tempers ready themselves.
Both simultaneously charge forward, fists primed.
[Engine Gatling]
[Periplaneta Repeater]
A guttural yell and a primal screech, both men make their arms known.
"ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA-"
Fists crash against one another, as both walk forward in attempt to pressure the other. Visible sparks of Ki flash each time a fists makes contact with another. The sound of bullets raining down echo throughout the docks. Yamada''s copious amounts of fists directly contest Saizo''s two piston arms. Despite having less limbs, Saizo''s output of Ki is enough to match Yamada''s quantity. A stray fist slips past their each of their own defenses. Yamada''s fist cuts above Saizo''s eye. Saizo''s fist cracks down on Yamada''s skull.
"GYARGH-"
Yamada wants to hold his bleeding head. He wants to wipe the blood off his face. But he knows well, if he stops moving forward, he''ll die.
"HUGH-HARGGHGG." Gasps Yamada.
Noticing the insect won''t let up, Saizo takes another deep breath mid clash. He loudly grunts as loud as a V8 engine.
Rev up.
Yamada immediately notices Saizo''s skin turning a slight shade redder. More smoke comes out of the gangster''s mouth. Yamada slowly backs away, as Saizo''s sledgehammers for fists punch faster.
And yet.
Despite the blood in his face. Despite the fear shaking the man. Despite the chitin of his fists quickly shaving down to the bone. Yamada refuses.
Getting frustrated, Saizo snarls. "WHAT''S WRONG? WHERE DID YOUR BROVADO GO? WHERE''S YOUR FIGHTING SPIRIT NOW-"
The gangster takes a split second look at Yamada''s face. Despite having the face of a cockroach, Saizo senses through Yamada''s worn down fists. Behind the shower of sparks, and wall of punches, is a crying man.
"You think I want this?" yells Yamada. "You think I ever wanted to risk my life for this? You think I ever wanted to fight for my life? You think I would rather be doing this than sleeping at home? Are you fucking kidding me? That''s not manly, that''s not fulfilling, that''s stupid!"
"(So he''s the emotional drinking type)" Thinks Saizo to himself.
Yamada''s voice becomes raspy. Through gritted teeth and teary eyes, he screams.
"What the hell do you know about ME you fucking asshole?"
As a response, Saizo soaks a couple of meek, sad punches to the face, and trades it back tenfold with a meaty punch to the side of Yamada''s head.
"QUIT CRYING, I DIDN''T ASK."
At that moment, words flashed through Yamada''s vision. Words that he didn''t want to see, but ultimately knew.
Weak.
As Yamada staggers back, Saizo takes a split second pause.
Pathetic.
Saizo''s skin stops becoming red, and goes back to a neutral gray.
Ill excuse of a man.
Rev up.
Insignificant.
With a large gust of air being breathed in, Saizo''s skin immediately shifts into a loud, dark red.
"[BURST.]"
Meager.
As Yamada stumbles forward, letting out his rage with all of his might, his fists are quickly drowned out by Saizo closing the distance. With sheer brute force, Saizo throws so many punches it surpasses Yamada''s quantity. The sledgehammers feel more like anvils now. Yamada barely notices, but the burning sensation of each punch feels like coals, directly charring and imprinting itself onto Yamada''s chitin skin.
Puny.
With the burnt skin, Yamada uses the numbed limbs to his advantage, blindly rushing forward.
"(I''m not...I''M NOT.)"
Each stray hit cracks Yamada''s exoskeleton flesh.
But he does not care.
Little.
Seeing Saizo slow down his punches, and hunching forward, covering his face while both hands clasped to the side, Yamada takes the opportunity.
"(YES. YES!)"
Unbeknownst to him, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, as well as the growing numbness of the pain, prevents Yamada from realizing that his hands are worn down to the wrist now.
"GRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"
[STING-]
Insect.
With a quiet incantation, Saizo seals his fate.
"Death in the family.
Eternal Rage.
Manji strife.
Die."
[V8 Tormenta]
Intentionally soaking up damage, Saizo''s pause wasn''t because he was getting drowned out or tired. He was simply charging up a meaty, wide-armed lariat coated in flames. With Yamada closing in the distance, the cockroach practically runs into the delayed attack. Saizo''s fist crashes into Yamada''s stomach, sending the cockroach flying backwards. A stream of blood comes out of Yamada''s mouth mid-flight. Yamada eventually crashes back onto the sand. He vomits blood, and musters the remaining strength he has left to not choke on it.
"(It''s...soothing.)" Thinks Yamada. "(The ocean. It''s loud and overwhelming yet...I can see why people like to sleep to this.)"
Yamada feels a burning, fist-shaped indent on his stomach. He raises his arms and looks at them. His hands are gone.
Tired, the only thing Yamada can do, is drop his arms to the ground, and let the cold water soothe his body. He turns his head, and sees Naoki, holding his stomach, barely crawling forward.
Yamada smiles. "I just...I just need to...rest..."
Yamada closes his eyes, and lets the sea slowly take him.
Meanwhile, Saizo is on his knees. His body slowly turns back to a gray tone. He''s panting aggressively. "Fuck..." he grunts. "There''s a reason I don''t use it... on one hand, that assholes finally down. On the other, well..."
Saizo looks at his shattered knuckles. The same char marks that afflicted Yamada imprints itself on Saizo''s fist. "There goes my Ki..."
The gangster looks onto the shore. He sees Yamada''s limp body float on to the sea. "Hmph." Comments the gangster. "I don''t know you as a person, but I damn well know enough."
The spirit turns his head and sees Naoki in the middle of the road. The teenager''s knees are shaking. His hat is crooked and full of sand. He''s trying his hardest to not hunch over and hold his stomach. He''s failing. And yet, the teenager stares at Saizo with a defiant, blood smeared smile.
"Yo." Says Naoki. "Ready for round 2?"
Saizo, with a tired glare, stares at Naoki. "How much Ki do you have left?" Asks the gangster.
Naoki chuckles. "Enough."
Silence.
"..." Saizo then points at Naoki. "You''re full of shit. You''re a terrible liar."
Naoki chuckles. "Yeah...I was raised by Naota after all."
Saizo grimaces. "...What?"
"Nothing, nothing. You wouldn''t get it... hehehe...he-HEGH-" Naoki''s soft chuckle turns into a harsh, coughing retch. Blood pours out of his mouth. The sorcerer looks up at Saizo and smiles.
With a tired expression, Saizo asks, "be honest with yourself. Do you really think you can-"
K-CHNK.
Something sharp enters Saizo''s back.
"Beat you?" Asks Naoki. "No. But I know she can," he says, pointing behind the gangster.
"(What is this, a knife?)" Thinks Saizo to himself. "(No, it''s something sharper, thinner.)" He then feels a liquid pump into his body. He pulls himself forward, and turns around.
There, Saizo sees a tall, pretty, green haired girl with pale skin. She''s wearing a pinafore style dress with small oriental accents adorning the corners of her dress. The dress is of thin fabric, and reaches down slightly below her knees. She''s holding a long spear, with a syringe at the tip. Her left hand has a single finger with a similar looking syringe as the tip. She smiles at Saizo, and has one hand on her hip while the other rests her spear on her shoulder.
"Who are you?" Demands the gangster.
"Good evening, I''m a transfer student." She gestures a small bow out of manners.
She then snaps her fingers.
"And you now have two minutes before the Polio-virus takes over your body."
『Chapter 20: Paralysis』
1:30 AM
The foreign exchange student stands, her spear at the ready. Saizo on the other hand slowly circles around. His mind races. He feels pins and needles in his legs.
"(Damn it....I have little to no Ki, which is already pushing it. My hair is still messed up, which means I can''t make or drink alcohol to use [Neuropathy Entrope] or [Share the shot]. And I don''t have any magic abilities. I hate to admit it but, I should really throw in the towel.)"
Saizo''s concerned grimace morphs into a devilish sneer. His heart beats louder.
"(Too bad for me though, I ain''t no bitch.)"
He pounds his naked chest with his fist and yells at the girl. "YO. YOU SAID I HAVE TWO MINUTES LEFT BEFORE IT TAKES ME, RIGHT?"
"Mmm...more like a minute and forty eight seconds now but, yes."
He grits his teeth and sneers. "Then I''ll just kick your ass in one minute."
The girl steps back, still keeping her spear pointed at Saizo.
"(Tch, yeah. Be afraid.)" He thinks to himself.
Saizo begins to run after the girl with a cocked back fist.
The girl carefully backpedals and sidesteps, always keeping a safe, four foot distance between her and Saizo.
Wildly swinging and thrashing, Saizo gets visibly frustrated. Slowly yet surely, he feels tired, and pained. "Come on you moron, quit being so LAME."
Grimacing, his skin turns into a shade of red.
"[BUR-]"
In an attempt to catch up to the girl and overwhelm her with his brute strength, Saizo''s burst of speed immediately rockets him forward with limp, stumbling legs. The girl jumps out of the way, and onto the wall of a nearby building.
"(What the hell?)" Thinks Saizo to himself. He looks down at his legs. His shins crackle, as they slowly yet surely tear apart. He punches the ground in frustration. "(Damn it, my Ki! I know I was low but I didn''t think the effect would be this dras-)"
K-CHNK
While Saizo is on the ground, the foreign exchange student bounces from the side of building and straight into Saizo''s ribcage, piercing straight into it. She then sticks the bottom of the spear into the ground, hoisting Saizo up by the tip, dangling him up above. He writhes in pain, trying his hardest to push himself off the spear.
The student looks up and thinks to herself. "(Damn...he''s a little heavy.)"
"GGGFFF...GGRRFFF..." grunts Saizo. He then feels it. A sensation at the top of his head. "(Yes, finally.)"
Looking down, Saizo looks straight into the girl''s eyes. "Hey, look over here."
[Share the shot]
As he opens his mouth to reveal his third eye, the girl immediately slams the body down and darts away in a straight line.
The spirit gets up and holds his wounds. "(I finally got her off. Of course, I don''t have any alcohol in me, but she doesn''t know what my ability does so she took the safe option. That being said, I was this close to pulling a bottle out. And if I did, I have a feeling I would''ve killed myself right then and there. Tsk. So that was fucking pointless ??. But now I have like thirty seconds to finally beat her)"
The girl starts bouncing in jagged lines. From the ground to the walls to the lamp post to the windows and to the sand; all in random order, surrounding Saizo.
The gangster looks around. His legs begin to feel weaker. "(She''s trying to throw me off. Not a problem though, I''ll just sacrifice a majority of my soul to impact her soul instead. If I can''t use Ki, then I''ll just coat my fist in magic to obliterate you that way. Yes. I just have to time it. Come on. Come ''ere.)''
Saizo closes his eyes, waiting for the student to finally skewer into him. His legs begin to wobble.
"(The timing. The sound of her foot steps. I can sense her intent. She''s going to come...RIGHT N-)"
"FROM DOWN TOOOOOOWN." Cries a voice.
Saizo immediately opens his eyes. He turns around. His face is greeted by Naoki''s sneakers dropkicking him.
Saizo ragdolls straight into the ground, rolling like a tumbleweed. He then realizes. "(My legs!)"
Saizo can no longer use his legs.
Crawling with his weak, brittle hands, Saizo angrily tries to reach Naoki. Frothing at the mouth, the gangster tries to yell at him, yet the massive crack on his face makes it too painful to talk.
Naoki looks down, while still holding his stomach. "Huh. I was expecting that last hit to kill you. But I guess I am reserving my Ki too, eh?"
"GGARRGGLLL FUCKING....KILL...YOU..." Mutters Saizo through gritted teeth.
"Yeah, yeah. Get bent you stupid bitch."
Just as Naoki raises his leg, the foreign exchange student swiftly lands right next to Naoki. "Wait," she calls out.
Naoki, confused, looks at her. "What''s up?"
"Are you sure we should kill him?" She asks.
"Uh, yeah? Why wouldn''t we?"
"Well it''s because I brought this in preparation." The girl whips out a small, metal tube slightly larger than a pencil. "I''m sure the academy would still appreciate one more asset."
Naoki rolls his eyes. "I mean... I guess. Idunno, I just have a hard time seeing the universe where this guy is helping any of us out" Says Naoki, lightly nudging the side of Saizo''s head with his shoe.
Saizo says nothing.
Naoki, genuinely confused, stares at Saizo in bewilderment. "Is he... doing the silent treatment or?"
"No. Now he''s in the stage of severe pain."
Naoki stares at Saizo, whose eyes are rolling back.
"Wow. That''s not...fucking terrifying at all, no."
The girl looks away, ashamed.
"Well anyway," starts the girl. "I just think that another spirit added to the force would help us out in the long run. Its a numbers game after all."
Naoki shrugs. "I mean, I get your point, but how do you know we can trust him? I''m not too familiar with how the system works with spirits so-"
"Well when you have a bomb strapped directly into your soul, and you''re contractually obliged to do as you''re told, you don''t really have a choice."
Naoki looks at her confused. "...Yeah?"
The girl looks away. "At least that''s what I heard."
"...Right. Oh yeah, by the way, the name''s Naoki. Naoki Miyamoto. Say, who are you, and how''d you know to find us?"
"Ah yes, introductions." The girl does a small bow. "My name is Viral. I am a foreign exchange student from Pakistan. I was scheduled to come here earlier but there were problems at the airport. Eventually your government figured it out and I arrived late. Did your coordinator not tell you I was coming?"
Naoki ponders for a sec... "Oh yeah, I guess Naota did mention you earlier. Neat." He looks at the spear and then to the gargling mess that is Saizo. "So what''s with the biowarfare?"
"Ah, the poliovirus courses through my veins. I am able to put it into my weapons and inject it into my enemies."
Naoki, confused, rebuts. "But he''s a god damn ghost. How is he getting crippled? Is it through Ki?"
Viral chuckles. "No, no. My virus is different. It injects directly into your soul."
Naoki gives her a very weirded out look. "Ah. That''s nice."
"But there''s two different versions. For this one, the condition is that it takes two minutes to completely process. But as a trade-off, the victim is only paralyzed for ten minutes, before reverting back to normal."
"I guess that doesn''t mean too much when you can curb stomp them when they''re down, right?"
"Precisely," she responds with a smile.
Naoki shrugs. "Eh I mean, I guess it doesn''t hurt to abduct him. Worse case scenario they just kill him on the spot if they say no so... yeah, let''s go for it."
"GGGHHKKRRR...W-WAIT...." Painfully gargles Saizo.
"Oh? What do you have to say now?" Says Naoki in a smug tone.
"QUES...QUES...TION..."
"Question?"
"Y...YES..." Grunts Saizo.
Naoki looks at Viral. "I''d want to hear him out, but I have a feeling the very second you cancel the virus, he''s going to make a run for it. That''s not going to mean much if a slightly bump into him will kill him but, that''s still gonna be annoying."
"No worries," responds Viral. "The virus slowly weakens the closer it is to expiring. So maybe give it like five more minutes and he''ll still be paralyzed, but while also being understandable."
"I see." Naoki then looks at Saizo. "Say, what''d you have to ask about anyway?"
"CO...COCKROACH..."
"Cockroach...?"
Naoki then goes wide-eyed and turns to Viral, holding her.
"HOLY SHIT I FORGOT-"
The teenager then looks over at the ocean. Yamada''s body is slowly floating away into the sea.
Sprinting on the sand, Naoki drops his hat, jumps into the ocean, swims towards Yamada, and drags him back to shore.
Back on land, Naoki examines the damage on Yamada. The cockroach''s hands are gone. There''s a large, emboldened fist on his abdomen. The side of his head and his wings are still bleeding. Various burn marks and bruises pepper the insect''s body.
Naoki then puts his hands on Yamada''s chest. "Sorry buddy, but I need to make sure you didn''t drown."
Naoki pushes his weight on Yamada''s sternum and compresses it. After one push, Yamada coughs up a small spout of water alongside a deep breath.
"OW."
Yamada looks at Naoki, wide awake. "W-W-Why would you do that?"
With a sigh of relief, Naoki smiles. "Oh good you''re alive. Just checking to make sure you didn''t drown."
Yamada pouts. "It still huuurts..."
Naoki looks at Yamada confused. "Did he also attack your mind with that drinking technique?"
Yamada takes a couple seconds to respond. "I think so? Hang on can you help me up..."
"I wouldn''t do that if I were y-"
Yamada stumbles. He wonders why he can''t feel anything in his hands. Why they feel hot yet cold at the same time. A numb sensation. As he tries to turn his body to his side, he sees his hands. Wide-eyed, he tries to scream, but nothing comes out.
Naoki lifting Yamada up, responds. "Don''t freak out. This is pretty bad, but Gretchen will patch you up as soon as we get out of here. Come on, let''s go."
Yamada''s mandibles droop. "Is it always like this?" Asks the cockroach.
"Not always, but usually," responds Naoki. "You''re just gonna have to get used to your body getting thrashed. And you''re just gonna have to get used to getting back up. That''s life."
Yamada''s mandibles tighten. "Life huh..." He mumbles to himself. "I don''t really like it."
The two of them eventually reach the road. Viral has her weapon pointed at Saizo''s head, and the gangster himself has stopped frothing at the mouth. He sports a rather moody disposition. Looking up, he sees the teenager and the cockroach. Saizo and Yamada lock eyes. Immediately, Yamada''s mandibles stiffen, and instinctively show his teeth without realizing. Saizo smiles at Yamada''s bloodlust. "Pussy." Comments Saizo.
Just as the cockroach was about stomp Saizo''s head in, Naoki yanks him by the waist, and drags him to the ground. "Yamada, calm down!"
"He...He took my hands away. Why haven''t you killed him yet?" Hisses Yamada.
"Calm down, we need him. Trust me, in any other case, I would let you deal the final blow. But hold yourself for a second. We just need to hear what he has to say."
Saizo on the ground, cackles.
Naoki walks back up to the spirit and soccer kicks him in the mouth. Saizo immediately shuts up. Naoki kneels and gets close to Saizo''s face, grabs his head by the hair, and whispers in a menacing tone. "That one was to shut you up. The next one will be infused with Ki. Now ask your question."
Saizo rolls his eyes. "You guys are the Ordinance Academy right?"
"Kyoto school, that''s right. Check the pin." Says Naoki, showing off a pin on his chest that shows the kanji for Kyoto.
"I expected the last thing the school did was to work with the Beetle of Iwate. Moreover, I didn''t expect the beetle to be a cockroach of all things."
Naoki and Yamada look at each other confused. "Well, I guess someone could mistake a beetle for a cockroach."
"Actually," rebuts Viral. "Cockroaches and beetles are very different insects. Excluding the vast differences in shapes and sizes that most species have, cockroaches come from the Blattodea order, while beetles derive from the Coleoptera order. So in my opinion, I find it very unlikely for most people to confuse the two, despite their basic descriptions."
"Damn." Says Naoki. "I wasn''t expecting the new kid to be a nerd."
"I just think bugs are cool..." Mutters Viral to herself.
"More importantly," continues Naoki. "What the hell are you talking about? Beetle of Iwate?"
Saizo contorts his neck to look at them confused. "You guys haven''t heard? Around three weeks ago it was in the news. There''s been this urban myth floating around of a giant beetle flying around in Iwate. Of course that could just be the typical internet hoax and neighborhood stories going around, so I didn''t think too much of it. Lo and behold, I meet up with you and this asshole getting into my business."
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Yamada dusts himself off with his forearms and addresses the gangster. "But that can''t be possible. I was transformed around two weeks ago, and anyway, I haven''t been to Iwate in five years. I was in Osaka the entire time I was like this. Afterwards, Naoki took me and there was this whole things going on, its a long story. But, to be clear this is my first time going back outside to the real world for a mission."
Saizo grunts and rolls his eyes. "Alright well then, I guess its just a myth then." He stares at the factory in the harbor.
Naoki notices. "What''s wrong. Something you need to tell us?"
With a disappointed face, Saizo responds. "No..." He then turns his head to Naoki. "Well, what are you waiting for?"
Naoki looks back at the factory, but doesn''t think too much of it. "We got what we needed. Suck him up and let''s go back to base."
"What about the drunk man on the sand?" Asks Viral.
"He''s out cold. Though, I think he should be fine. I say give him an hour and he''ll wake back up." Says Naoki.
Viral nods and unscrews the small, thin metal tube. With a saddened face, she points it at the spirit, and forcefully absorbs Saizo into the tube. His entire being, cramped into the confines of something so small. Only Viral can hear Saizo''s trapped, agonizing screams.
All three of them sprint back towards base. Naoki helps Yamada by shouldering his weight. Viral makes sure that nobody sees them.
.
.
.
Naoki, Yamada, and Viral reach Gretchen''s door.
"You help him out here," starts Viral. "In the meantime, I''ll talk to Principal Hanayama about the captured spirit."
"Sounds good, I''ll meet you soon." Responds Naoki.
Naoki knocks on the door as Viral leaves. Gretchen opens up the door. Despite it being the middle of the night, she does not look tired at all.
"Naoki? Yamada? What happened?" Asks Gretchen.
"We went out patrolling, got into a scuffle with a spirit, and ended up like this." Both Naoki and Gretchen look at the hunched over bug. "How are you holding up Yamada?" Asks Naoki.
"I feel tired... and weak... Can''t I just lay down?" mumbles Yamada.
"Come on," commands Gretchen, motioning in the two. "Help me hoist him up."
The three of them walk into the medical office. The dim white lights barely light up the room. Meanwhile, the green glow of the large, rusted vats near the walls illuminate the majority of the room.
"I forgot to ask the other times but...what are those?" Asks Yamada.
"It''s where you''ll be sitting in for the next couple hours. Maybe even days." Responds Gretchen.
"What? I don''t want that!"
"Well either you live the rest of your life handless and in excruciating constant pain, or you get in the damn vat." brusquely explains Naoki.
"Hooohhh..." grumbles Yamada, holding his stomach.
As Gretchen unlocks the top of the vat, she holds her hand out in front of Naoki and Yamada. "Both of you, look away."
The both of them do so. Noxious sounds of retching and gallons of thick liquid being poured ensue.
"What is that?" Asks Yamada.
"Its best we don''t know." Responds Naoki.
After the noise stops, Gretchen starts. "Alright you two, you can look now."
As Naoki helps Yamada up the stairs, Yamada peers into the contents of the vat. A thick, glowing green bath of slime.
"This is the only way?" Asks Yamada.
"We can''t just ask the medics from other schools to drop what they''re doing and come over here. So stop crying already and get in the damn vat. It feels better than it looks, trust me."
Yamada slowly puts his foot in. The liquid is cold, and thick. Yamada already knows there''s no choice in saying no. Slowly yet surely, he dips the rest of his body in. The more the slime consumes, the warmer he becomes. Eventually, he is submerged down to his neck. He notices the dried blood on the side of his head. Gretchen looks at him and points downwards.
"Even the head?" Asks Yamada.
"Even the head."
He holds his breath and dunks his head under the liquid. He blinks and realizes. "Hey wait... this is just like a mud spa." He then feels a tingling feeling where his hands used to be. "W-What is this? It feels ticklish but also kind of burns?"
"That''s the slime working," answers Naoki. "In a couple hours, your hands should slowly form back. For now, just calm down and rest. Don''t mess with your hands while you''re at it though."
"Oh, alright. Thank you both, by the way."
Gretchen and Naoki wave it off. "We''re just doing our job." Says Naoki.
Gretchen turns to the teenager. "Now, what injuries do you have?"
"Eh I mean, I got drunk for the first time."
She makes a wry face.
Naoki shrugs. "What? It was the guy''s ability?"
"Oh, alright then. Did you enjoy i-"
"Hell no; it sucked. Thank god I have a fast metabolism though."
Gretchen sighs out of relief. "Alright good. Are there any other injuries?"
"Not that need to be taken care of right now."
Gretchen''s eyes narrow. Naoki keeps a poker face. She then lifts up Naoki''s shirt. There she sees a large hematoma spread all over Naoki''s chest and stomach. Even ignoring his past scars, it''s still very apparent this needs to be treated right away.
"Get in the vat." Demands Gretchen.
Naoki pulls his shirt back down. "Later. I have something I need to take care of right now." He then turns around and leaves the office.
Gretchen shakes her head in dissapointment. "Damn brat. Acting so macho won''t get you anywhere."
.
.
.
An hour later.
In a dark, dank, and cramped room, Saizo, in his weakened state, wakes up. There''s a small table and a lone candle right next to him. The first thing he sees is a 5''7" boy with pitch black shaggy hair that went down to his neck. He''s wearing ripped jeans, as well as a hoodie underneath his uniform. Despite having cold, grey, dead eyes, they sparkle once they lock eye contact with Saizo''s eyes. "Wakey wakey," says the boy, sporting a sharp, toothy grin.
"Who the hell are you?" Asks Saizo, moving around. He notices that his body is tied to a chair. Despite the rope seeming normal, no matter how hard he tries, the rope doesn''t budge.
"For now, I''m the best bet you got at staying alive. So just listen up and you''ll be fine."
"The hell is this? Why should I listen to some asshole like you?"
The boy sneers. "Ooooh you''re a pissy one ain''t cha?. Listen," he continues, nearing his face to Saizo''s ear. "In a couple of minutes, a couple of my... peers... Yeah sure, peers are gonna come in here. Now some of us, namely me and the new chick want you to join us."
"Why?"
"Because we know what''s it like for you."
"The hell do you know what it''s like to be me?" Angrily rebuts Saizo.
"More than we''d like to admit," chuckles the boy. "However, there''s also the other side to this. There are those who don''t really care, and more importantly, those who want you dead. Those people are gonna do everything in their power to kill you, straight up."
"So? I''ll just come back."
The strange boy cackles. "You don''t get it. As a spirit, this is our last joyride. If you''re fine with dying like a bitch then, by all means, you can tell me to piss off and I''ll gladly oblige. And for some reason, I don''t think living as slave to the state sounds too good either. However, I have a strange feeling that you got something, or someone left living, huh?"
Saizo grimaces, but doesn''t say a word.
The boy smiles. "I may look like a jackass, but I''m smarter than I look, I''ll let you know."
The door behind the both of them slams wide open. There, Akemi, Viral, and Naoki all come inside. The boy''s impish demeanor immediately disintegrates as he and Akemi lock eye contact.
"Ken." Starts Akemi. With just the boy''s name, it leaves a bad taste in Akemi''s mouth. "What did you tell the prisoner?" Barks Akemi.
"Nothing jackass. I was just taunting him."
Akemi glares at Ken. "You and your fucking games..." Mutters Akemi. Akemi stands in front, looking down at the spirit. Saizo grimaces.
Akemi then throws a swift right hook towards Saizo''s jaw. The weak spirit''s face malforms from the impact, struggling to regain the previous composition.
Saizo looks up, directly at Akemi''s eyes, and spits on him.
Akemi throws another punch, this time harder. An audible crack rings throughout the room.
"Akemi, dude. You just met him." Says Naoki.
"Didn''t he hurt you and Yamada?" Asks Akemi.
"Yeah, but we already got it taken care of. Let''s just do our actual job."
Akemi grunts and walks back. "I just don''t get it. What''s the point of bringing them here? You know how spirits are. They''re all the fucking same."
Viral frowns and looks down. Ken wrinkles his nose. Saizo tries his hardest to suck his face back up, but the massive crack in his face isn''t helping.
"Listen dude, lets just get this over with. If he says no then you can deal with him. But if he says yes, then tough shit." Responds Naoki.
Akemi grunts, and turns around. "Alright spirit, you have two options. Either one, we can kill you right here and now, and you''ll save us all the trouble. On the other, you can agree to become a vessel, and join the Ordinance Academy."
Saizo, with his face still bleeding, looks up. "What''re the upsides if I join you?"
"Just answer the damn ques-" Starts Akemi, before getting interrupted.
"Bro, chill." Interrupts Naoki. "You''ll be doing a lot of training, paperwork, giving your soul to reception duty, and patrolling throughout the area."
"Patrolling?" Asks Saizo. "Like what happened last night?"
"Yes. Don''t get it twisted though, this doesn''t enable absolute freedom. You''re gonna be stuck with someone supervising you, especially since you''re so new."
Viral intently looks at Saizo. Ken quietly motions Saizo to nod his head yes. Akemi keeps a hateful stare on the spirit. Saizo then grunts and says "yeah, yeah, alright. I''ll join your stupid academy."
"Alright, sounds swell." Says Naoki. "Quick little contract though. Do you Saizo, agree to give your being to the Ordinance Academy? This includes obeying the Ordinance code of conduct, as well as agreeing to the fatal pact rune being placed upon you."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. It''s not like I really have a choice." Just as Saizo finishes that sentence, he feels something enter his soul. Like drinking boiling hot water, his stomach churns. The feeling lasts, but dissipates within a couple seconds.
Naoki comes close to him and smiles. "Congrats, welcome to the Ordinance Academy. Also, you have a bomb strapped to your soul now. Don''t fuck up.?? One last thing though. I know this is an odd question but just to make it all easier for the rest of us, do you know where you were buried?"
Saizo looks at Naoki confused. "The fuck are you...I mean yeah, I do...I think...?"
"Alright then, that''s good news for us. I say we might as well go out now just to get it over with. I say Saizo, me, and Ken can all go out while the two of you can let Hanayama know."
"What are we going to do?" Asks Saizo.
"We''re going to grave rob your body back."
.
.
.
4 AM
Naoki, Saizo, and Ken all run back towards different cemeteries. They''re all scanning the names of a tombstone with the name of Saizo, and if there''s no such name, they continue to a different one.
"Say Naoki," starts the gangster. "I''m assuming if I were to just get up and leave, something bad would happen, right?"
"Yup." Simply responds Naoki. "Any action that you do that goes against the code of conduct is read by the rune. Desertion being one of them. More importantly, that rune only affects spirits, so we don''t have to chase you, and the parasite detonates itself."
Saizo gives a disgusted look. "The rune is a parasite that''s a bomb?"
"Yup."
"You all are disgusting."
They look around, speeding past every tombstone, until Ken eventually finds one that says "Saizo" in Kanji.
"Yo, check and see if its this one." Says Ken.
Saizo looks at the tombstone. Saizo is written, sure, but he always thought his name was written in katakana, not kanji. Nevertheless, he weakens his spiritual making and phases through the coffin. An audible "woah!" is heard from beneath the ground.
"That handsome fella used to be me? Hot damn I still look good. So uh... what do I do now?"
"Possess it" Says Ken. "It''s like putting on a jacket."
"What about the hill of dirt on top of the coffin?"
"Aww, a wittle thug needs help with a couple pounds of dirt? Awww...." Says Naoki in mocking tone.
Saizo scrunges up his nose. "Asshole."
"Ken, you got this, right?" Asks Naoki.
Ken nods.
"Alright well, while you do that, lemme just drop a letter in the cemetery''s office to let them know the government is just doing its job and not a grave robber."
"Sounds good." Simply responds Ken.
As Naoki leaves, Ken kneels to the ground and puts his palm on the grass.
SHH-K
Ken then tugs on the grass. In a swift, slim layer, the grass gets pulled out of the dirt like a rug. He puts his palm on the large cube of dirt that''s atop the coffin, and proceeds to do the same thing. Thousands of tiny white flashes all blink simultaneously. Saizo, standing by, could barely see the tiny flashes.
"Alright Saizo, I loosened up the dirt for you. You should be able to pop out of the coffin and crawl upwards. Go ahead."
Saizo then phases through the ground and tries to take a hold of the corpse.
Silence.
.
.
.
"GRRYYAAAAH, I''M ALIVE," yells Saizo, bursting out of the wooden coffin and dirt. Small shrapnels of wood splatter all over the place. The corpse only has minimal rot and dirt on its skin. Saizo''s corpse is wearing a suit.
Ken facepalms. "When I say pop out of the ground, I mean metaphorically. We were supposed to keep the coffin intact..." He then shrugs. "Oh fuck it who cares. Let''s just clean it up and get out of here."
Ken notices Saizo stare at his hands, intensely concentrating on bending the finger joints.
"What''s wrong?" Asks Ken.
"Nothing its just..." Saizo then looks around. Naoki still hasn''t come back. "It feels weird. This is supposed to be my body but, it feels different. It''s like wearing someone else''s clothes. Controlling it feels funny too. I don''t remember being this short..." Saizo then turns around and scoffs. "Nevermind... as if you''d know. Come on lets just get out of here."
Ken slowly walks up to Saizo, grabs his face, and looks intensely in his eyes.
He then proceeds to headbutt the gangster in the face.
"What the hell was that for?" Asks Saizo.
"DURRRR I DON''T DINK HE KNOWS WHAD IT''TH LIKE DUUURRRRR." Mocks Ken.
Saizo, confused, gets up. "The hell are you talking about?
"Damn, you''re dumber than you look. Is it not obvious? The only reason I''m on your side is because I''m a vessel too. I''m literally the only person that knows what its like."
Saizo scratches his head. "Oh... I guess so."
Ken continues. "Anyway, you feeling unfamiliar with the is only natural. I mean come on, how long has it been since you were last alive?"
"A little over a month I think."
"Well then yeah. Since you''re a spirit, you didn''t know magic before then, yeah?"
"Yeah."
"And since you learned magic now, its transmogrified your soul to a new degree. For example, do you have any abilities that change the way you look?"
"Yes," mutters Saizo, thinking about his third eye and comically wide torso when fighting.
"Well there you go. That''s what your soul becomes over a short amount of time. It''s who you really are. Slowly yet surely, that erases what you used to look like, thus evolving from a mere remnant psyche to a newfound spirit. In other words, you''re not who you are after you die. That''s why this body feels so unfamiliar."
Saizo ponders for a bit. "Or what if we dug up the wrong body?"
"That happens too. But we''ve already spent too much time here so what you find is what you get. Like I said, since your soul doesn''t recognize the body, it doesn''t really matter who''s it is, just a matter of having one in the first place."
Saizo looks disappointed. "But, I mean..." After a few seconds he shrugs and kicks a rock. "Whatever. Let''s just get out of here."
Naoki eventually comes back. They all clean up the dirt, pull the grass rug over it again, and leave.
.
.
.
6 AM
Yamada is awake, resting in the vat. Naoki sits next to him on the ladder.
"How are you holding up?" Asks Naoki.
Yamada lifts his hand. With intense concentration, he forces a half built hand into a thumbs up.
"Yeah no, that looks half-baked; put it back in there. On the other hand though, how are you feeling?"
Yamada shrugs. "I feel alright. The vat doesn''t bother me anymore, its just a matter of patience." Yamada goes quiet before starting up again. "There''s a couple things that spirit said..."
Naoki looks at him. "Uh-huh?"
"I don''t know, it just got to me."
Naoki shakes his head. "Oh nah man, don''t pay him any attention. He''s just shit-talking to get in your head."
"No but it worked," explains Yamada. "And more importantly, he was right. It wasn''t just the things he said but it was also in my subconscious. I am weak. I am worthless. I am no man. Just a puny fucking insect. Nothing more. Nothing less."
Naoki shakes his head. "Come on man. You can''t be thinking that way. It also doesn''t help that you''re wrong."
"Wrong? I couldn''t even beat a mere spirit."
Naoki gives a disgruntled look. "Yamada. You''ve been training for like a week. Maybe less. For you to withstand that much is impressive in itself. Quit looking at what you couldn''t do, and focus what you actually did accomplish. You didn''t run away... Ok you did, but you eventually came back and gave it your all. That''s what a man''s all about. Not that walking parody of masculinity that is Saizo. You think that dumbass knows what it means to be a man?"
"...Kind of..."
Naoki sighs. "No dude. There''s being a man. And then there''s being a jackass. If you try so hard to be manly, everyone can see right through you. It''s the actions that make the man, not the attitude. At least that''s what Naota told me because hey, I''m still just a kid, y''know?"
Yamada stays quiet. "I see..."
"And besides, I suggest you make peace with him soon."
Yamada slowly turns to Naoki. "What are you talking about?"
"Because Saizo''s going to be joining the Academy."
Instantly, Yamada''s mandibles tighten. "This is going to cause problems, I just know it."
Naoki sighs. "As much as I want to say it won''t... Yeah, I know it will."
Yamada turns to him. "What about you, Naoki? Don''t you hate him? He almost drowned you?"
Naoki scratches his head. "Oh yeah no, don''t get me wrong, I still think he''s a jackass. But hate is a strong word."
Yamada hisses. "How noble of you..."
Naoki gives him a side-eye. "Oh calm down. I don''t mean it as a goody two-shoes. I mean it would take a very, and I mean- very impressive person for me to hate them. If its just a dumbass who''s starting shit, the most I''ll ever find them is annoying."
"...So what would you do?"
Naoki pauses and eventually answers. "Well when it comes to people who you work with, there''s two routes. There''s Buddha''s route who lets all things pass. Be like a rock when water passes by. ''No matter how annoying you are, I will sit still, and let it pass around me.''"
"That sounds very weak to me," says Yamada. "You''re letting him walk all over you."
Naoki shakes his head. "I disagree. I see where you''re coming from, but think about it. To have that patience, that mental resilience to not punch a bitch in the mouth is stronger than just yapping on and on. Because tell me this, who do you think is stronger: the guy on the ground, paralyzed, beaten to an inch of his death, who''s still running his mouth. Or the guy who says ''No, fuck you. I won''t let you of all people ruin my mood. You can bitch all you want but I won''t give you my time or effort.''"
"You have a mind for philosophy, Naoki." Says Yamada in a sullen tone.
"I mean, thanks I guess-"
"But you know, of all the philosophy books I read back when I was in highschool, not one of them worked." He turns to Naoki. "I respect the way you think, Naoki. But the realm of idealized thoughts and situations are much different from the real world."
Naoki, disgruntled, looks at him. "So you think giving him attention will help you out? You think wasting your energy thinking about him and getting angry will solve the situation?"
"I guess so."
Naoki purses his lips and closes eyes. "You''re right, to an extent." Reluctantly agrees Naoki.
Yamada narrows his eyes. "What a way to change your views."
Naoki scoffs. "I wasn''t finished. The second way is to confront the other person. This is way more ideal, because I understand you. Simply ignoring and letting the animal pass by doesn''t always work. Even though I did ignore Saizo yapping, I did dropkick him at the end of the day. But that''s because it''s my job, not because of- whatever. Point is, confrontation is key. That''s what being a man is all about. There''s the ideal man, and then there''s reality. The real matter is, how you go about that confrontation, and how far you want to escalate it."
Naoki then turns to Yamada. "I have no right to tell you how to live your life. But let me warn you, if you want to confront someone, you are responsible for what you do, and what happens next."
Yamada doesn''t look at Naoki, and responds. "I''m fine with that."
Naoki sighs. "For someone who''s twice my age, I''d expect you to know more about these things. But I guess you didn''t live much in the first place."
Yamada doesn''t say anything.
Naoki stands up. "Whatever you do, I hope for the best." He then leaves the room.
As Naoki walks down the hallway, he ponders to himself, and frowns. "Oh Naota...I think I fucked up."
As Naoki passes by, Akemi walks towards the direction Naoki was in.
The medical office doors opens. Yamada, marinating in his thoughts, looks up. Akemi walks in.
"I heard Saizo did this to you." Says Akemi.
.
.
.
Down by the harbor, a spirit walks into a factory. He''s clad in biker jacket that doubled as a karate gi.
"Saizo...Saizo? Where are you?"
For hours on end, the spirit roams, searching for his friend.
.
.
.
8 AM
In a small apartment, Ushiyama Kito wakes up. He always sleeps with the tanktop and shorts that he''ll wear the next day, so the only think he puts on is his bandana. He turns on the TV, flashing through the news. As he does so, he pours a small bowl of cereal and starts eating.
"Last night, sightings near Iwat- BZZ- A drunk man was found near the Kyoto harbo- BZZ- Breaking news-"
Kito immediately blows milk out of his nose as he sees the news. "OW, it burns..."
"Just this morning, the mayor of Kyoto was reported dead by his family. The police and ambulance pronounced him dead on their arrival, deducing that he passed away from a heart attack in his sleep."
"Damn..." mutters Kito, stroking his chin. "A week''s already passed? Hmm!"
Knock knock knock.
Kito hears someone knocking on his door.
"Hm... a fan already? But I never gave my address away."
He opens the door. "Can I help you?"
There, stands a tall business man, with dead, grey eyes, and permanent circles around them. There stands Yoshida Mishima, the Japanese Ambassador for the Ordinance Academy.
"Hello Mr. Kito. We need to talk."
『Chapter 21: Understanding egos』
I tried fixing/deleting these spoiler tags but nothing''s working so I guess I just have to deal with it
Out in the plains of Wisconsin, in a semi-rural area.
6 PM
Jinsei and Edward are in a motel. The CIA put them there as a temporary base of operations. Due to Jinsei''s group having plenty of business at The Underground, on top of the motel''s close proximity to it, the CIA thought it best for them to stay there.
Edward wakes up from a nap on the couch. Having nothing to do for a couple of days, to say he''s bored would be an understatement. He stands up and lazily shuffles to Jinsei, who''s on a recliner.
Jinsei is typing on a laptop. He''s been at it for a couple hours now. He sighs, rubs his eyes, and continues to type.
Edward notices tally marks cut into Jinsei''s right wrist. There''s five of them. He squints at them but doesn''t think too much of them. He then looks over Jinsei''s shoulder at the laptop. The entire screen is full of code that''s in the middle of being written.
Jinsei stops typing and looks at Edward. "Can I help you?"
"You can, actually. First off, what are you doing?"
Jinsei sighs, readying himself for whatever the idiot had to say to him. "I''m working on an assignment for the CIA. Since we''re working with them, they tasked me with translating over some magic scrolls into code, at least until further notice."
Edward stares at the code for five seconds before responding. "...Yeah, no, this sucks."
Jinsei furrows his brow. "I''m not in the mood for your inane antics."
"No dude, I''m being serious. Like ok, maybe I''m being a little bit harsh. But I''m seeing lots of variables repeated throughout. You can prevent repeating entire lines of code over and over again by just including a script, ya know."
Jinsei face morphs from one of annoyance to confusion. "How the hell do you know how to code?"
Edward shrugs. "I don''t know man. I''m just that talented."
Jinsei makes an annoyed face again.
Edward then rolls his eyes and continues. "Ok ok, back before I became a priest, I was pretty cracked at coding. Strange how I remember my school days more than the priesthood shit but, priorities. I guess."
Jinsei rolls his eyes. "Alright well, I''m assuming you want to help right? Or did you come just to pester me?"
"Oh yeah no, your code is bugging me so much that I''ll write it for you, no worries."
They move over to the couch. As Jinsei recites the scroll aloud, Edward converts it into organized text.
After a few minutes, Edward asks, "Jinsei."
"Yes, Edward?"
"You said you wanted to revive someone, right?"
"Yes."
Edward then gives a weirded out look at Jinsei. "Ok so, just as a hypothetical, spirits can posses objects, right?"
"Yes. When a spirit gets used to being...a spirit, they''re able to enter inanimate objects and possess them. It can be as simple as a rock, or even as big as a house, hence, haunted houses."
"Alright cool, and I''m assuming corpses count, right?"
"Correct."
"Then why the fuck wouldn''t you just get the sorcerer''s spirit, tell him to possess his dead body, and bada bing bada boom, we''re all happy?"
"Because," snaps Jinsei. "You can only manipulate your soul with magic once. If you do that before death, you become a sorcerer; thus when you die, you can''t turn into a remnant psyche or a spirit. Meanwhile normal people''s souls are untainted, and thus, go through that transformation after they die.."
"Ooohhh...so you''ve thought about this for a long while huh?"
"More than you''d ever know."
After an hour and half of working, Edward asks.
"By the way, later this week, do you know if they want us to do a mission or something?"
"Not that I''m aware of, no. Why?"
"Well thing is, Chad, Jordy, and I are gonna go to the Casino section of The Underground. I doubt you''re the type to get into that but, just wanted to invite you anyway."
Jinsei shakes his head. "No thank you."
"And a couple days later, I''mma go on a date with Quinn," continues Edward. "So I''d appreciate knowing if I had to call off a mission or something."
"You should be fine. Do they not have your email?"
"Oh yeah they do. I just don''t read it. Especially when I can have you around to tell me what''s going on." Edward smiles.
Jinsei contrasts with a frown. "Well anyway, as a heads up I''ll be meeting up with Brook next week. They have something I need to see. I have my doubts but, I might as well try."
"Yeah, uh huh, that''s great."
Jinsei gives a side eye to Edward, but knows there''s no point in addressing his attitude.
.
.
.
Meanwhile in Japan
8 AM
Yoshida Mishima, the Japanese Ambassador for the Ordinance Academy, stands in front of Ushiyama Kito''s door.
"Hello Mr. Kito. We need to talk."
Kito gives a confused look. "Do I know you?" Asks Kito.
"No. But I work with the government. May I enter?"
"Well, of course! Come in, come in." Kito motions for Mishima to enter.
As Mishima walks in, he grabs something from his pocket. A small, pocket sized little spirit. It takes the shape of a small, gerbil looking gremlin. It frantically skitters around Mishima''s palm before calming down. Mishima calmly and quietly puts the creature on his shoulder.
"Take a seat," says Kito, pulling a chair out. "Do you want something to drink or?"
"I am fine, thank you," responds Mishima. The little creature barks and growls loudly.
Kito sits in front of Mishima, and looks at him in the eyes, not looking anywhere else. "So, I''m assuming this has to do with the whole mayor business?"
"To an extent, yes. Have you heard of the news? It''s been everywhere this morning."
"Ahhh yeah...yeah..." responds Kito, looking down, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "The now former mayor just passed away right? It''s a damn shame."
"Yes, quite. As of now, someone will take the mayor''s position, but only until the new mayor is elected. However, I''m not here to talk about the order of leadership. Kito, was it? You''re running for mayor, is that right?"
"Yes sir!" Says Kito in a proud tone. "I''m hoping to serve my province the best I can."
"Yes, that''s nice. However, I do find it odd that the mayor passed away a week right after you declared your participation in the election."
The little spirit continues to bark and growl. Kito doesn''t stop looking at Mishima''s eyes. "I suppose that''s weird but, I don''t know what to say. I never knew anything about the mayor''s health problems. All I can say was that he was good man who tried his best, and I hope he rests in peace."
Mishima''s tired stare connects with Kito''s unwavering gaze. "I see." Simply responds Mishima.
Mishima then flips through his file and whips out a paper. "In my hands is a transcript of the night. I couldn''t help but notice that you said something a little odd. You don''t mind if I reference it, do you?"
"No, go ahead. You''re only doing your job haha," says Kito with a smile.
Mishima''s face doesn''t change. "During your speech, you said ''As a matter of fact, dear Mr. Mayor of Kyoto, If I were you, I would resign in a week''s notice. Or else your heart will stop due to the burden you carry. Won''t you agree?'' In which case the Mayor, put on the spot, simply responds with ''sure.'' Now, I don''t believe in superstitiouns but, you can see why this raises concerns within the government, right? It seems oddly specific, wouldn''t you agree?"
Mishima looks at the window behind Kito. there, he sees the reflective glare of a sniper scope. He looks at the sniper, shakes his head, and continues to look at Kito, awaiting for an answer.
Kito shakes his head. "Damn. Me and my words, huh?"
Mishima squints. The sniper rests their fingers on the trigger, directly aiming for Kito''s head.
Kito then continues. "I know what this looks like. But believe you me, this is just a horribly aligned coincidence. You see, my entire angle when it comes to influencing the audience is with my theatrics. I gotta rile them up and get them on my side."
Mishima loosens up his gaze.
Kito continues. "By putting the mayor on the spot, I didn''t mean anything but to sort of humiliate him, you know? Especially with my campaign budget, I need to do everything in my power to influence the audience. I didn''t mean anything else by it, I swear."
Kito then gets outs out of his chair and does a slight bow. "I sincerely apologize, sir. I understand why this would look suspicious, but I didn''t mean anything other than a simple case of poorly timed theatrics."
Mishima looks away and responds. "No, you don''t have to do that." He sighs, and gets up from the chair. "Well Mr. Kito, I believe that''s all I need from you today."
Kito stands up. With a smile, he responds. "No worries. And hey, I understand you''re just doing your job. Trust me, if I were in your position, I would be asking the same thing too, haha." Kito presents his hand out. Mishima glares at it, coats his own hand in magic, and accepts the handshake.
"Pleasure meeting you, Ushiyama Kito. May you prosper in the race."
Accepting Kito''s hand, Mishima doesn''t feel a single ounce of Ki, Psychopower, or Magic in Kito. "(Hmph)". Thinks Mishima to himself.
Letting go, Mishima turns around, walks out the door, and closes it.
20 minutes later, Mishima is on a rooftop overlooking Kito''s apartment. There, a bulky, tall boy in his early twenties stands next to him. The boy wears a large brown bomber jacket, a grey owl-like mask, thick boots and thick pants. He has a pin that signifies he''s from the second Hokkaido school.
"So," starts the boy, shouldering his rifle. "Did he do it?"
Mishima lights up a cigarette. "From what I gathered, no. He didn''t react to the spirit at all; didn''t even glance for a split second. His explanation seemed serviceable. And most importantly, from what I could tell, his levels are that of a normal human."
The boy tilts his head. "ehhh....I mean hiding your levels isn''t impossible. It''s just really hard to do."
Mishima looks at the sky. The grey clouds are coming by, fast. "I''m aware." He takes the small spirit out of his pocket, squeezes it until it pops, and flicks his hand out as a means of cleaning his hand. "Well whatever the case, we won''t pursue him. At least not in the moment. He''s still a suspect but for now, I''m going to have re-check the former mayor''s history of health. You can go back, Jin."
Jin smiles. The bomber jacket morphs into a long cloak that reaches down to his feet. He hides rifle inside his cloak. He jumps.
An owl flies away.
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A couple hours earlier.
6 AM
Yamada marinates in his vat. Naoki had just left a minute ago. Gretchen is out of the room, and the room is as dim as ever. Alone with his thoughts, Yamada meditates.
He lifts his semi-regenerated hand and closes his fingers. It takes a bit of effort but slowly yet surely, his body is recovering back to normal. He ponders to himself. "To an extent...Naoki is right. Perhaps I should let things go. After all, I am getting my hands back, and I''m still alive. Now if it were permanent, then I suppose the anger would be more justified. But... this isn''t so bad. I tried my best. I did as much as I could. I didn''t die... that''s fine."
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
He then purses his mandibles.
"No...no! I won''t let that bastard win. I can''t. For him to think he''s better than me..."
He pauses.
"Wait... why am I so bothered by this? I''ve never fought before so of course I''d lose. Is it because he won that''s bothering me? No, that can''t be right. It''s unfortunate but, it already happened, and it is what it is. Is it because he insulted me? That''s hitting a closer mark... but its like what Naoki said, they''re just words of a bully. They don''t really mean much once he''s on the ground, half beaten to death. But..."
Yamada realizes. "All those words. Why do I want to fight him? What will this fix? What am I trying to prove? Is this all just to match his macho facade?"
He hugs his legs in a fetal position, and simmers in the vat. "I suppose so. Even if its stupid, I already set my mind to it. I guess i''ll just pay the price for it when the time comes."
Knock knock knock
The door opens. Akemi enters and says aloud in a serious voice: "I heard Saizo did this to you."
Akemi closes the door.
Yamada simply stares at Akemi.
"You want to do something about it, right?" Asks Akemi.
Yamada slowly gets up from his seated position.
Akemi continues. "I know just the perfect way to get rid of him."
"Get rid of him...?" Asks Yamada.
"Permanently."
"Out of curisoity," interrupts Yamada. "What do you have against Saizo? You didn''t fight him."
"Because, he, the new girl, and vessels in general are problems. I''ve been doing this for a long while, and I know what they''re like. They''re all ticking time bombs. That''s as much as I can say for now."
"How do you know for sure?"
Akemi scoffs. "Look at you. Look at Naoki. He did this to you two. How do you know he''s not going to kill a student mid-sparring? Do you really think he of all people has compassion? Spirits have lost their humanity a long time ago, and I''m not risking a repeat of the baseball spirit again. So what do you say?"
Yamada stares at Akemi for a couple solid seconds. The lower half of his head still rests underneath the liquid, while his eyes simply gaze at the student.
"If by ''getting rid of him'' implies murdering him," starts Yamada. "Then I''ll pass. I hate him, and I know I wanted to kill him in the mission, but that was in the heat of the moment. I''m a lot...calmer now. But, I don''t see a reason to kill him. Besides, I have a score to settle with him."
Akemi''s eye twitches. "So even if it didn''t hypothetically involve killing, would you still help us out?"
Yamada glares. "I don''t know who ''us'' is, but I am not interested. Thank you for your concern, but I do not wish to be involved in any shape or form."
Akemi does a slight bow. "I understand."
Just as Akemi turns around and opens the door, Yamada says one last thing.
"By the way, Akemi."
The student looks over his shoulder.
"He''s mine. Do whatever you please afterwards. But if I find out you did something to him before our fight, you and I will have problems."
Akemi furrows his eyebrows. "...What are you going to do about it?"
Unflinching, Yamada''s mandibles open wide. "I don''t know. And I don''t want to know. So why don''t we leave it at that."
Akemi stares for a couple seconds, before slamming the door behind him.
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4:51 PM
Naoki had taken a long nap. Typically, it would have been his shift to go patrolling. But due to his injuries, he was able to take the night off.
Naota, adorned in a long, white robe, walks beside Naoki. Naota is also holding a white mask that''s made of pure white cloth. They''re both walking towards the ''reception area.''
"You said you wanted to talk?" Asks Naota.
"Yeah... it''s about what happened last night." Responds Naoki.
"Alright, go ahead. Don''t know how long we''re able to talk since I''m already late but, go on. What''s on your mind, Naoki?"
"Alright well, it mainly has to do with Yamada. Even though we beat the spirit, he''s really hung up on losing to him. Or mainly what the spirit said to him got to him. I don''t know. I tried to suggest to just let it go because there''s no real place for this to go. But he''s very adamant in getting a rematch."
"Why don''t you want him to fight?" Asks Naota.
"Because, it''s just...dumb. The fight already happened, he lost, got made fun of, but that''s the end of that. He tried his best and we won in the end. I hope he realizes vengeance doesn''t get him anywhere, and marinating in those thoughts only makes him more miserable. Plus if he and Saizo don''t let it go, they''re both just going to make things worse around the school. It''s just cumbersome, you know?"
"Hmm." Naota doesn''t say anything for a while, before opening his mouth again. "I have a question, Naoki."
"Yeah what''s up?"
"What makes you think you have the right to decide what''s best for anyone other than yourself?"
Naoki stops walking. He looks at Naota. "It''s...it''s how you raised me? Isn''t letting things pass the way you taught me? The way of the buddha?"
"Yes. However, everyone lives different lives. No matter what''s best for their situation, it''s not up to us to decide for them. We don''t know the exact extent of what they''re going through. Additionally, don''t you think it''s rather inconsiderate of their feelings?"
"What do you mean?" Asks Naoki.
"You say the situation is not a big deal. I understand what you mean. And though it may seem silly on the outside to us, we have no right to judge. We''ve lived vastly different lives. To compare our experiences with someone who''s going through it for the first time, and deeming it as juvenile is the equivalent of you walking up to Yamada and spitting on his face. Give him time, and let him learn for himself."
Naoki, saddened, looks down at the ground. They both continue walking.
"I understand..." Says Naoki. "But, what about you teaching me? Doesn''t that mean you also don''t have a right in saying what I do?"
Naota shakes his head. "Naoki, I raised you this way because I think it''s best. But you''re growing up; fast. I give you suggestions and lessons for you to understand. But if you want to disregard my teachings, then go for it. You''re this close to being a grown man now. I didn''t make a contract or force you at gunpoint to obey my teachings. I raised you, but ultimately, you decide your own actions. I''m not going to be with you forever. And you know this. It''s like how you rescued Yamada. It was your decision, and though I did ultimately raise you that way, you pay the price for your actions. You can decide whether or not to listen to me. What comes after is all on you. But, you already know this."
Naoki keeps on walking, and doesn''t say a word.
Silence.
Eventually, Naota chuckles quietly.
Naoki looks up. "What''s so funny?"
"You know Naoki, this exact scenario just happens to repeat itself. I''m sure you know how Makoto feels about your beliefs, right?"
Naoki shrugs. "I think she kinda disagrees but hopefully, I can get her to understand-"
"That''s the thing, Naoki," interrupts Naota. "She''s just like you. Even though she loves you, she despises the way you think."
Naoki, disgruntled, looks at Naota. "How do you know?"
"I''ve talked to her before. But the main difference is, even though she disagrees with you, she doesn''t force you to subscribe to her ways. She understands that, that''s just how you are, and she accepts it. I understand that there''s some genuine menaces out there, but the main point is, our beliefs aren''t the only valid ones. So for you to shoot down other people''s ideals, and stand above and preach your own is called being a hypocrite." Naota kneels down, looks at Naoki''s face, and pats him in the head. "And we have to be better than that."
Naoki frowns, and looks at the ground. "But... I don''t want him to be in this situation. I don''t want any of my friends to get hurt. What can we do?"
"When it comes to these situations, all we can do is offer our assistance; an ear, a suggestion. But we can never force it."
"And what if they say no?"
"Then the only thing we can do for them, is pray."
Naoki, with watery eyes, purses his lips, and nods.
"I understand."
They eventually reach the reception area. Naota opens a large, cramped glass container, and walks inside it.
"I''ll see you later, Naoki. Stay safe, and whatever you do, don''t do anything stupid."
Naoki forces a smile.
Naota then sits crisscross, and adorns the white mask. The cloth drapes over, obscuring any semblance of his face. He then slowly leans from side to side in a hypnotic pace.
"Wait Naota, I forgot-"
Naota doesn''t stop swaying.
Naoki purses his lips. "Nevermind."
.
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6 PM
Naoki has been walking in the city for over an hour now. The sun is about to set. The sky is a blend between pink and orange. He''s wearing his civilian clothes; a simple hoodie, shorts, and converse shoes. He stares at the normal people walking by. An old lady is selling candy on the street. Some kids are playing baseball. Cars drive on their typical commute. There''s martial artists sparring in the middle of the park. Little lives living little lives.
Naoki walks beside the shore of the harbor. About a mile back was the factory where he was just at seventeen hours ago. He ponders and kicks rocks. And then he sees someone skipping stones.
They''re wearing the typical garb of a fisherman, as well as a black bandana on their head. Their eyes are overshadowed by the bandana. The man is skipping stones on the water.
Naoki remembers when Akemi and Makoto would often accompany him during nights off. First would be going to the mall, then at sunset would be skipping stones, often discreetly using their powers to see who could go the farthest. Then finally go watch a movie. Oh how the memories fly by.
Naoki walks near the person and picks up a rock. He flings it. Blankly, he picks up another rock, and another. He doesn''t pay attention to how far he throws it. He simply throws.
The man next to him slows his throws. "You seem to be in a bad mood." Says the man.
Naoki doesn''t respond.
Silence. The two of them continue to skip stones. The water is calm and quiet.
"Would you like to get something off your chest?" Asks the man.
Naoki turns to him. "Do I know you?"
"I suppose not. However, I don''t mind lending an ear from time to time. And who knows; answers can come from places you least expect."
Naoki gives a weirded out look.
"Now, I''m not saying I''m some enlightened bodhisattva of compassion- quite the opposite. But, I know sometimes the only thing a person needs, is to be heard." Says the fisherman. He then shrugs. "Your choice."
"I''m good," says Naoki, not looking at him.
"Suit yourself."
They both continue to throw stones.
Naoki''s shoulders feel heavy. His stomach sinks. And no matter how far he sets his eyes, they always droop down, back to the ground.
"(I shouldn''t be talking to strangers but...I suppose it won''t hurt to hear someone else''s thoughts for a bit.)" Thinks Naoki to himself.
For what feels like hours, Naoki eventually opens his mouth.
"Say...hypothetically speaking, what is a man to you?" Asks Naoki.
The fisherman, looking surprised, looks at Naoki. "Oho? What brings this up?"
"...Nevermind."
The fisherman shakes his head. "My bad, I won''t pry any further. It''s just that I need a bit of context to understand the angle. Man is complex, after all."
Naoki looks at the ground for a second, before responding. "I have a friend of mine that seems to be insecure about his masculinity. He thinks he''s a coward and all that. I want him to get out of that rut but, he won''t listen."
The fisherman folds his arms, shakes his head, and chuckles. "Ahh, I see. Indeed it is, indeed it does. ''What is a man?'' I too asked this when I was a child. However, we all have our definitions, and I think you know this. Is it the mentally strong, and kindhearted, quiet man? Or is it violence? Is it the sophisticated gentleman, or the brute running off of primal instincts? The thing is that the definition is subjective, and everyone has to find out what a ''man'' is by themselves."
Naoki rolls his eyes. "Gee, that''s real helpful."
"However, I think the main important thing between each definition is conflict." The fisherman turns to Naoki. "Man is conflict. Remember that."
The boy gives a confused look. "Man is conflict?"
"Precisely. Everything we do, be it as a species or as a person, male or female, young or old, man is always fighting. And for a man, you have to fight for what you want. Its the very law of nature to kill for nourishment. Now, I don''t mean we should kill everything and everyone in order to be a man. But metaphorically speaking, you get what I mean, right? I doubt animals could survive just living off of tofu and vegetables, setting aside their selfish needs to live in harmony."
"What do animals have to do with humans?"
The fisherman laughs. "Well humans are animals after all. Granted, we aren''t cannibalizing one another. But to think that our sapience cancels our primal selves is a foolish assumption. If we were truly that advanced as a species, then perhaps conflict as a concept would be gone. We''d all evolve into tofu-eating, vegetable passing animals. And though you might think that''s where we are right now, raw emotions beg to differ. Anger still sparks up. Grief controls others. Raw emotions can''t deny who- what we are. We are animals. And that''s not a good thing, nor a bad thing. It''s just a thing that is."
Naoki looks puzzled. "But what''s wrong with animals being all friendly? As silly as it sounds, if everyone''s on the same page, wouldn''t that be a good thing?"
The fisherman nods his head. "Yes, that would be a good thing. But I think you already know that humans aren''t so kind. Some are allergic to tofu and vegetables. Others hate the taste of plants and prefer the meat of their herbivore neighbor. No matter the situation, people will do what it takes to get what they want. The boat will always be rocked. That is the rule of nature."
Naoki makes a wry face. "So you''re saying that humans are evil. Is that it?"
The fisherman tilts his head from side to side. "Not necessarily evil. The animal allergic to tofu and plants is doing it out of circumstance. And as for the one who isn''t allergic, but prefers meat anyway, it''s the same thing. Are you going to forsake them because of their nature? Just because people differ in their opinions doesn''t mean they''re evil. And that''s the thing. There is no ''good'' or ''evil'' when it comes to nature. It''s only people fighting for what they want, or living unfulfilling lives, settling for less. Man is conflict. And that''s a good thing."
"So what are you striving for then?" Asks Naoki. "You''re talking about winning and dying. What are you striving for?"
The fisherman puts his hands on his hips and cackles. "Believe it or not, I''m a politician."
Naoki scoffs. "You?" He then looks up and down at the fisherman''s work uniform. "A politician?"
"That''s right. I''m running for mayor, I''d greatly appreciate if you voted for me."
Naoki gives a sarcastic chuckle. "I''ve already given you this much time so- yeah man, why not. What''s your name?"
"Kito. Ushiyama Kito." He presents his hand outwards to Naoki.
Naoki accepts the handshake.
Instantly, a bear trap snaps onto Naoki''s fingers. The sorcerer looks down at his hand, shocked.
"It''s a pleasure to meet you." Says Kito, staring into Naoki''s eyes. Kito then lets go.
Naoki looks at his hand. The hand is fine.
Despite not sporting a single semblance of ki or magic, Kito''s grip was unlike Naoki had ever felt before. So firm. So hard. Yet, his hand is fine.
"Admiring your hand already?" Jokes Kito.
Naoki looks up, confused. "What?"
"It''s not everyday people shake hands with a future mayor. Don''t be like those people who don''t wash their hands because of it."
Naoki continues to stare.
Kito rolls his eyes. "It''s a joke, kid."
"How...how are you so strong?" Asks Naoki.
Kito, giving a weirded out look, looks at the large body of water. He then looks at the nets of a ship not too far away. He looks at his calloused hands. He then looks at his waterproof overalls. He then ends it off with "gee, I wonder."
Naoki shakes his head. His heart still pumping, he slowly calms down. "I...yeah, that makes sense. Yeah."
Kito continues to stare, and eventually asks a question. "Your friend. Why does it bother you what he does? Its his life after all."
Naoki purses his lips, and eventually answers. "Thing is, I know that. I accept it. I already got an earful from my... dad. Yeah. And I know I can''t change other people''s minds. And even if I know I can''t change them, that doesn''t mean I like it. I suppose I care too much is all."
"Mmm. Well, though I don''t know what your friend is going through, my advice, to you and to him is this: Conflict is a good thing. It''s how you learn."
The ocean becomes quieter.
"Meaningless conflict is whatever. But those moments where you have to weigh your decisions, fight for what you want, and most importantly- learn; those are all important. If you don''t learn from your experiences. You''re not evolving."
The sun finishes setting. The dark hue of the sky immediately shifts the scenery.
"Without evolution, you are aimless, passive."
Kito turns to Naoki. Naoki looks at the fisherman.
"Passivity is inaction. Inaction is stagnation. Stagnation is death."
Kito inches himself towards Naoki''s face.
"If the lion sits around all day, it won''t eat, and it will die. If someone is picking on you, and you''re passive to their actions, then the vulture will only pick and pick and pick, until you''re nothing but a bundle of bones and sinew."
With his firm grasp, he clutches onto Naoki''s shoulder. Kito''s face is overshadowed. The only thing Naoki can see are Kito''s cat-like eyes and hulking silhouette.
"He has to learn for himself. And that will dictate whether or not he will survive, or die."
Kito lets go and backs away. "Do him that favor. I know you care, but sometimes the best way of caring, is to care at a distance."
Silence.
Naoki, chest beating fast, stammers. "I...I have to go now."
Kito looks away. "Ah yes, would you like at the time. I best be heading back home now."
Hurriedly, Naoki bows and says ''i-it''s been a pleasure. Thank you for your time." He then runs up the hill and runs back towards the academy.
Kito smiles. "Don''t forget to vote for me."
Kito''s eye twitches. "Now, I might be feeling a little off today but...was that Ki I sensed within him?"
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.
Naoki meditates in his room. He sits in his chair, staring at his paused game.
Knock knock knock
"Come in," says Naoki.
Yamada''s antenna pokes through the small door. "I just wanted to ask you a small favor."
Naoki looks down at the ground. "Ask away."
Yamada opens the door. "I only wanted to ask if you could help me attain a technique."
Naoki turns his head towards the cockroach.
"I was thinking..." continues Yamada. "I think the only logical conclusion for me to get stronger is for me to actually get my technique. A big reason why Saizo did a lot of damage to me to begin with was because of his abilities so I figured ''hey, why don''t I do the same thing?''"
Naoki blinks.
Yamada looks at the ground ."If you want to say no, I understand. I just thou-"
"Yamada," interrupts Naoki.
"Yes?"
"I''ve been... thinking. The entire day. As much as I want to say things, I''ve already said what needed to be said. But after thinking about it, I suppose I was wrong about things. If I say no, you''ll just ask someone else. I can''t force you to do anything. You won''t last long if you don''t attain a technique. And you''ll die if you don''t learn. So yes Yamada. I''ll teach you how to get your technique."
Yamada stares, yet his mandibles perk up. "Thank you for understanding, Naoki."
Naoki gives a blank look.
"So... when can we start?"
"Now," says Naoki. "We can start right now."
"Alright! Then lets go to the gym." Says Yamada in a chipper tune.
"Yeah."
.
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.
"I''m sorry," mutters Naoki under his breath.
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Earlier
Ken and Saizo stand out in the middle of the academy''s field.
Saizo, with his fists clenched, glares at Ken. Ken on the other hand, keeps a permanent smug face.
"I know we''re training but, I have a feeling you want to kill me." Says Ken.
『Chapter 22: Im being gangstalked by the government』
8 PM
At a busy sushi restaurant.
Ushiyama Kito sits at the helm of the table. Kasumi Murobuchi, the professional bodybuilder sits on Kito''s right hand side. Robert Baskerville, the foreigner, sits on Kito''s left hand side. Bara Shibukawa, the giant, sits across from Kito, taking up half of the table''s side. And finally, Daiki Sugimoto, the kid or rather, the mass of moving scribbles and blotches, sits next to Bara with whatever little space was left on that side.
Kito sits and stares, stroking his chin.
"You called us over, boss?" Asks Bara.
"Yes. I wouldn''t call it an emergency meeting this time. Rather, a level below that. Call it... a ''heads up'' meeting more than anything."
Robert rolls his eyes.
"Well, what''s the news, boss?" Asks Kasumi.
"First of all, can any of you believe who came knocking at my door the other day?"
Most of them look around at one another, seeing if anyone has an idea. Robert is the only barely paying attention.
"It was a government agent." Says Kito.
All of them stare at Kito confused. Even Robert.
"Now," continues Kito. "This happened the morning the former mayor passed away so, you can connect the dots. Long story short, I can assume he was a part of the Ordinance Academy. He coated himself with magic and ki, he let a small spirit loose to get my attention, and I could feel the crosshair of a sniper aim directly at my head. However, your leader, being- your leader, I successfully passed every test he threw at me. I could sense I was off the hook for the most part. However, something tells me that he''s going to flip through some file on me, and continue to investigate."
Silence. Daiki eventually asks, "so what do you want us to do, boss?"
Kito shakes his head and smiles. "For now, nothing. But as your leader, I do think its my responsibility to let you know this happened. All of you are my associates, meaning big or small, you all are known to the public. And if the government finds out you all have powers, then you will get a knock on the door too. If this escalates, then we''re going to have to watch each other''s backs. But for now..." He shrugs. "Just a heads up."
All of them murmur in concern.
"Is there anything else you wanted us to know about?" Asks Robert.
"Yes. Now, for the news that actually matters: the race. I''ve been paying close attention to the race and I hate to break it you, its not going smoothly. Overall, I a majority of my support comes from the older demographic. However, my other running mates are pretty neck and neck. One of them has the support of the younger people, and another has the support of the elderly. For the former, I don''t care too much since that''s the opposite of the demographic I''m aiming for, but the latter, I''m pretty annoyed about. Even though that''s MY demographic, it seems some old people aren''t too trusting of a new face running their province. They prefer someone they''re used to and that...annoys me."
Kasumi ponders. "So what do you want us to do? Do you think we should kill them?"
The table right next to them gives Kito''s group an odd stare. Kito instinctively waves back with a smile.
"First off," whispers Kito. "Keep your voices down. Second, and more importantly, I''d rather not resort to that."
Confused, Daiki asks, "why not?"
"Because, though conflict is important, and winning is the only thing that matters, one must do it in a clever way. If we were as brutish as we seemed on the outside, then we would have overrun this entire province in less than a week. But, the ordinance academy exists, and more importantly, that would be sloppy. Professionals have standards after all. We''re strong, but forcing people at gunpoint to vote for us would only get a target on our backs. As for the voting portion though... we''re Japanese, not communists. Political assassination is a last resort."
Daiki continues to ask, "but what about the former mayor?"
"That one I''ll admit, we got lucky. To be fair, he was the one who admitted to the contract so that''s not directly on our hands. And to be frank, that one was easy and believable. If every opponent starts dropping like flies, then that''s more suspicious. You don''t need to be a political scientist to realize something''s up. Even more so if the government smells us and puts a target on our back- without asking this time."
Daiki and Bara shake their heads in amazement.
"But for now, my competitors and I are only off by mere single digit numbers. A group of friends get to decide who gets to be mayor. We have a bit of time but, I have faith."
Kito grins. "The joy of competition. What is a man if he accepts defeat over the smallest bumps in the road? Is he going to cry? Or is he going to try harder? That''s what I thought."
Daiki raises his hand.
"Yes, son? You have a question?"
"Mr. Kito sir... do you by any chance believe that boys can cry?"
Kito strokes his chin and grins. "Mmmm...yes. There is this stigma that boys can''t cry. They do cry. They can cry. That''s the thing-"
He stares at Daiki in the eyes. "We are no boys, for we are men. Be it loss or victory, pain or joy, crying has no place. The only thing we can do, is accept, and adapt. Nothing more, nothing less. There are other ways to express the soul. Hence why magic is a tool. You all are strong in your own ways. Dare I say, what better way to show who you are, than through your fists. Need I say more?"
"I understand now," says Daiki with a smile. They all raise their glasses of water and cheer.
"One last thing, I might add," announces Kito. "Though I enjoy having meetings here, I believe an actual base of operations would serve us well. If we do my place, that''s too suspicious. So I say we might as well use the factories in the harbor late at night. It''ll serve well as a discreet place. Any oppositions?"
"What if someone finds us out?" Asks Robert.
"We simply say we have overnight management duties. You and I work at the harbor after all."
"And if they don''t believe us?" Continues Robert.
"My friend," says Kito. "The ocean is right there."
Robert nods, realizing what Kito is insinuating.
.
.
.
Meanwhile, at the Academy.
Naoki and Yamada are at the gym. Naoki has a portable whiteboard right next to him. Yamada sits on the ground.
"Ok so, as you already know, techniques are the expression of who you are, and that all depends on your specialization."
"Correct." Responds Yamada.
"I doubt you do but, do you know what your specialization is at the moment?"
Yamada ponders. "I mean, I think I''ve gotten a decent grasp of Ki, at least the basics of it. Other than that, I''m still struggling with the PsychoPower and Sorcery part of it."
"Mmmm..." Naoki strokes his chin and ponders. "As you already know," starts Naoki. "Techniques are the way you express each element. Ki for what you value in the physical world, Psychopower based on the way you think or think about often, and Sorcery is based on your ego and how you view yourself. I''m assuming you have no real idea about any of these, right?"
Yamada shrugs. "I mean I''m still just learning so no, not really."
Naoki sighs. "Well, there''s no use in rushing these things. And you know yourself more than I do so, you''re the only one who has a real direction when it comes to your abilities. Any ideas pop up in your head?"
Yamada blankly stares.
"Alright well...yeah I got nothing. For now, just meditate on it. Don''t rush it, just really look within yourself, have an idea about yourself, and then have an idea of how you want to express it. Once something solid comes by, just let me know and we''ll go from there. I''ll be in my room so just shoot a text when you got something."
Naoki walks away and leaves the gym.
Once again, all to his lonesome, Yamada sits patiently.
"..."
After 45 minutes of closing his eyes, slowly breathing in and out, meditating, he comes to a conclusion.
He rests his chin on one of his hands. "This is boring."
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He scoffs, continuing to talk to himself. "And they told me math was boring. ''Oh why study graphs, you''ll never use them in your job!'' Tch. Its not like that''s all I ever did back then. I mean, it can be tedious but its not ultra boring. I mean think about it, with graphs you can read the stock market or just see where the money goes. It''s not like you can just blindly point at a company and go ''yes, I''ll throw my money at it and I''ll get something in the future for it.''
...
Now that I think about it, I think some people just make do with that. If a company sounds like they''re going to be around for another ten years, then you might as well invest in it."
Author''s note: do NOT listen to me; I am not responsible for any economic advice you get from this fictional character.
Yamada grumbles. "All those years at college wasted...And yet, if people just took the time to THINK for a while then they could...see...
Wait.
Think...For a while..."
Yamada folds one set of arms and uses the other two to simultaneously stroke his nonexistent chin and bald head. "Hey wait a second, what was that one thing that Saizo used on me? It''s an ability that got me intoxicated without having to drink anything. There''s no real way of confirming it but, judging by how instantly hammered I was, and the fact that he drank a lot in that fight, I''m assuming it transferred his intoxication to me. It could''ve been a magic ability...which again, I have no real point of reference to judge from. But I didn''t feel anything other than the effects going to my brain so, though it could be magic, I''m leaning more into thinking it was a PsychoPower technique. I don''t know the exact conditions, but I think it involved me looking at him..."
Yamada grins from antenna to antenna. He grabs his phone. "I have an idea."
.
.
.
Ken and Saizo are out in the school''s sandy field. It''s a bright and beaming day. A little humid too. Saizo is wearing clothes modeled after his spiritual version.
Saizo pants. "You know, after having a body again I realized... I don''t miss the heat."
Ken wipes his forehead. "Yeah. The physical sensation part kinda sucks." All of a sudden, Ken asks a question out of nowhere. "Say... what''re your plans in the end?"
Saizo gives an odd stare. "What do you mean? Like I have some secret plan or something?"
Ken gives him a glance. "I''m not stupid. There''s no way you''re smart enough to pull some large scale attack on the school so I''m not worried about some severe secret. And I highly doubt you''re just going to live here for the rest of your life without wanting something. So what is it?"
Saizo grimaces. "I ain''t telling you nothing."
Ken rolls his eyes. "Dude I''m literally like the only guy on your side. Is it another spirit?"
Saizo doesn''t say anything.
"You know, we could invite them too. Even without the whole fighting part."
Saizo looks at him. "...Really?"
"I fuckin knew it."
Saizo furrows his brow. "Were you being serious or just wasting my time."
"No, no, I was being serious."
Saizo sighs out of relief. "Well, yeah. Something like that. It''d be hell if I lived through this school alone."
"But I''m right her-"
"With you."
Ken purses his lips. "Rude but, understandable."
"He was my best friend so living him alone kinda sucks. I only ever had him in my after life so, its obvious I want him with me again."
Ken nods.
Saizo looks at him. "No unfunny remark now?"
Ken shakes his head. "I understand that feeling. Its only in our nature to huddle back up with the ones we care. Besides, I couldn''t think of anything funny to say as a response so, have that as your respite."
Saizo groans, rolling his eyes.
They stand around, enjoying the breeze.
"Say, what do you think of Yamada?" Asks Ken, out of nowhere.
Saizo stares at the vessel for a couple seconds, before asking. "Who?"
"The cockroach guy."
"Oh." Saizo shrugs. "Don''t care about him. Really annoying. And whiny. That''s about it. Why do you ask?"
"Oh." Ken shrugs and smiles. "Just curious."
Saizo turns to Ken. "What is this. I know you''re hiding something."
Ken shrugs. "I mean... yeah. I don''t think you''d find it too important though but, there''s a rumor running around that he wants to fight you again. He''s taking it pretty serious."
Saizo squints. "Oh." He turns away. "That''s retarded."
Ken chuckles. "So you don''t care?"
"Of fucking course not; why would I? If he has a problem he can just come up to me. Hell, if anybody wants to fight, I won''t back down. I ain''t no bitch."
Saizo hacks up a mean loogie and spits on the ground.
Ken squints and gives Saizo a weirded out look. "Unnecessary but, ok."
"You got a problem?" Asks Saizo.
Ken rolls his eyes. "Yeah. You come back from the dead for a couple of days and you don''t remember to brush your teeth."
Saizo wrinkles his nose. "Clever guy, huh?"
"I know my way around a joke." Ken smiles while slowly backing away. He kneels for a second and pats the ground.
Saizo walks up to him and gets all up in his face. He whispers, "who do you think you are?"
"Hey I can whisper too..."
Saizo pushes him. "Is that what you wanna do huh? You tryna look for a fight?"
Ken gets pushed back. He looks at the ground he just patted, and where Saizo is stepping. "Oh yeah, we''re here to spar after all."
"Call it whatever you want," says Saizo, taking off his jacket. "You''re in for a beati-"
K-SHNK.
Saizo feels sharp pains all over himself. Blood slowly leaks from his body. He can''t move, at least not without immense pain. Looking down, he sees a large circular sigil with markings on it, as well as thirteen swords that shot straight up, into his body. Though spread out, the blades capture him, puncturing through his skin. One in his throat, some in his legs. One in his stomach. Its a miracle that his nether regions weren''t stabbed through. His arms are caught as well.
Choking on his blood, the only thing he can say is a gargling "GGGKKKKHHRRFFF."
Ken claps and laughs in coy fashion. "I can''t hear yo-"
"GRYAH."
Flexing his Ki, Saizo forces himself to move, snapping the blades off of their stems. With blades sticking through various parts of his body, he runs forward. Red in his eyes, he breathes in as much air as possible, while concentrating his Ki in his neck to stiffen the wound.
Ken backpedals as the gangster runs after him. "Oh. Hmph."
As Saizo swings his fist, he sees Ken crouch extremely low to the ground, and blur right in front of his eyes. Saizo turns around. Ken is behind him, with a long sword coming out of his forearm. Fresh blood seeps down Ken''s arm.
Immediately afterwards, Saizo''s Achilles tendons are cut off, leaving him to fall to the ground. Ken saunters over to Saizo''s body, grabs his hair, and whispers in his ear: "are you ready to calm down now?"
Saizo then latches on to Ken''s hair and headbutts him straight in the nose. Ken backs up, fresh blood coming down his nose. "Guess not."
Despite the newest wounds coming from his tendons, Saizo feels something off. Yes, he can feel his Ki deplete due to his own management, as well as Ken''s damage to him. But he also feels his mind feel "fuzzier", and his soul a bit weaker.
Brute forcing his strength to crawl back up, Saizo uses his Ki to stiffen up his legs, and use them as makeshift peg legs.
Ken gives an annoyed smile.
.
.
.
An hour passes.
Ken, with bruises on his face, and blood drenching his clothes, comments. "You''re really fucking stubborn. Don''t take that as a compliment in any shape or form."
On the ground is Saizo, gutted, with his hands and feet lopped off, struggling to breathe through the slit on his throat. Several gashes are on his muscles. Despite this, Saizo is still able to move, at least somewhat.
"By the way," says Saizo. "Since we''re ghosts, all this physical damage to the body doesn''t really mean much. The Ki part matters sure, but like... the body is just a puppet, ya know? As long as the puppets limbs are attached, you''re good to go. If you find a way to reattach the limbs, good for you. Sure you can leave the puppet too but...its like a crab without its shell. After living in it for so long, you''re a little vulnerable, ya know?"
Saizo gargles in response. It''s most likely a string of cuss words.
"Glad you get it. I''m telling you so just in case they ask, you can at least say I taught you something."
Ken dusts himself off and thinks to himself.
"Damn they really struggled with you? I mean granted, I kinda cheated at the beginning. And matchups do exist but like...I mean thanks for the alcohol but, it''s gonna take more than two swigs to really get me anywhere. But I guess that''s hard when someone''s swinging a sword at you so... fair enough."
Saizo stares at Ken.
"Well, would you look at that," continues Ken. "Sun''s setting. I''m tired. And you''re about to die so-" He walks up to Saizo''s limp body, and carries him over the shoulder. "Let''s go get a medic." As he walks, he asks the muted Saizo "By the way, I hope you don''t take these too seriously. It''s a fight but there''s on real emotions here, ya know?"
Ken eventually walks into the medical office, sees a half filled vat, and drops Saizo in there.
After five minutes, Saizo pops out of the vat.
"About the fights," he starts.
"Oh?"
"You''re right. I don''t keep grudges. If I win or lose, that''s that. I''m not some loser who keeps grudges just because I lost. The stronger man won, and its simple as that."
Ken smiles. "So you''re not mad at me?"
"I''m not mad at you because you won. I''m mad at you because you''re an insufferable prick."
Ken blinks. "That''s fair."
Saizo eventually asks "By the way, you forgot my hands and feet."
"Oh you''ll grow them back."
"...But wouldn''t it be quicker if you got them for me?"
"Yeah."
"...So won''t you get them for me?"
"No." Simply responds Ken.
"..."
"..."
.
.
.
A couple days pass
A couple of students, as well as Ken and Saizo all gather around the sandy field. Most of them are just playing soccer, whereas others are just enjoying the day.
Naoki walking alongside Yamada says to him "are you sure you''re ready for this?"
"Yes Naoki. I think you''ve taught me well enough within the short amount of days I wanted to get this done."
Naoki purses his lips. "Alright. Just be safe. I..."
Naoki pauses.
Yamada turns to him. "What''s wrong?"
Naoki shakes his head. "No. I have no right to say." He turns to Yamada, looks him in the eye, and slaps him on the back. "Good luck."
Yamada turns to him, and smiles. "Ow."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xqqb0LGVKiI
Walking forward, calmly yet slowly, Yamada stands in front of Saizo, who was simply smoking a cigarette.
Saizo looks at him up and down, and scoffs. "You''re blocking my sunlight."
"I have qualms with you. You may not have any with me, but I don''t care. After today, I won''t think about you at all."
Ken and Saizo look at eachother with confused looks. Ken makes a goofy expression as he shrugs. Saizo simply stands up and says "Ok."
He takes off his jacket, and exposes his naked chest once again.
Yamada backs up and readies his fists near his face.
"You said you won''t think about me at all after this, right?" Starts Saizo.
"Yeah."
Saizo grimaces. "So you obsessed with me or something?"
"I guess that''s one way to put it."
"...Why?"
"..."
Yamada stunned, stands there.
Saizo scoffs. More people gather around the two. "Look at you," says Saizo. "You say that but you''re still trembling. It doesn''t matter what you say. I''ll always live rent free in your head. You''ll always be a pussy, and you''ll never be a man."
Yamada drops his arms and stands there. He makes a noise under his breathe.
"Is he whimpering? Oh come on you''re gonna cry AGAIN?"
The noise becomes louder.
"h...hehhheh...."
Confused, Saizo stares at him.
"Heheheh...hehehhaha!"
Yamada cackles. He continues to laugh. And laugh. It comes to a point where he tries to stop laughing yet, he couldn''t stop. Yamada stumbles to the ground, holding onto his stomach, as his body possesses him.
Saizo looks back at Ken. "I''m this close to leaving dude. What is this?"
Yamada slowly gets up, and slows down his cackles. "You know Saizo, I think I get it now. Thank you. You really are a funny one. And I appreciate you for helping me. Genuinely. This really was silly to begin with. I have nothing to prove. Not to you, nor to anyone..." Yamada shrugs. "But here we are. And a man sticks to his promise."
Saizo tilts his head, tired of the cockroach. "And what''s your promise? That you''ll beat me?"
"No. To come here and fight. That''s it."
They both stare at each other. Bodies pulse. Muscles tense. The crowd silently feels bloodlust. Saizo is calm; Yamada feels liberated.
For some reason, a certain lightness envelopes Yamada''s stomach. The weight of something, or rather, someone is lifted. His shoulders are free. His wings aren''t chained anymore. Freedom is the greatest feeling in the world. He chuckles one last time, and miniscule, insect-sized tear falls down his eye.
Be free.
Yamada grabs the smallest student right next to him, and launches them towards Saizo. Saizo quickly slaps them down and looks up. The surprised crowd stammer, too shocked to react. Saizo yells "YO, WHAT THE-"
Yamada bursts forward and attempts the meanest right hook against Saizo''s face. Saizo, seeing the telegraphed punch, ducks underneath the hook.
Only to be met by a hook from Yamada''s second pair of arms, knocking one of Saizo''s teeth into the crowd.
『Chapter 23: Solace; its all in the mind』
A day before the fight.
Naoki And Yamada are in the gym. They have been physically training for three hours already. Both of them are sweaty. There''s a bucket near them.
"Ok," starts Naoki. "So you remember how I made you meditate for hours on end?"
"Yes," says Yamada.
"Did you get an idea of what your mind is? What it felt like? If we were to go inside your mind, and it was pictured as a room, what would it be?"
Yamada ponders for a bit. "I kind of got the feeling it was my room. Not a bedroom rather, a room that felt like me. You know?"
"I do know, actually," says Naoki. "That''s exactly the feeling you want. And now for the next step is to actually express it. What I want you to do, is get that same feeling of when you were meditating, and force it upon another person."
"How do I do that?"
"Just imagine really hard that you''re trying to force someone into said room. The harder you concentrate, the more you''ll eventually get it. I''ll lower my mind''s defense just so that you can get an easier target."
Yamada stares at Naoki and concentrates hard. Imagining trying to shove the kid into his space, or pushing him into this wide blank room, Yamada thinks and thinks and thinks, before kneeling on the ground. "Ooouughhh," he groans.
"Yeah, you''ll get used to that feeling real quickly. Ok how about this... you see me in person, right?"
"Yeah?"
"Try seeing me without your eyes."
Yamada stares. "What."
"No like...you see me with your eyes. Now just try to see me with your mind. Think about the space around you. Close your eyes and let your mind sense the area out. You already converted your mind and body these past few weeks so this should be doable."
Yamada sits down and ponders. In the span of 10 minutes, like a sonar, his mind slowly picks up a presence. He faces towards it. Its Naoki.
"What is that?" Asks Yamada.
"(It''s telepathy,)" responds Naoki with his mind. "(I tuned my Psychopower way back up so that you could actually detect me but, that''s the basic gist of ''seeing with your mind.'' This is how you can detect the minds of other beings. And more importantly, this is how you can actually target them.)"
Yamada opens his eyes again, and retches. He grabs the bucket and puts it beneath himself just in case.
"Yeah, thinking super hard gets nauseating super quickly in the early stages. So if you''re really committed to this whole technique, then I''d suggest you just use it in bursts rather than frying your brain in the background. Another thing, remember 5 seconds ago how you tried to affect me with your eyes open, concentrating on my physical body rather than my mind?"
"Ooooouuuuhhhhhuuuuuhhh...."
"Yeah, that''s because you were targeting my ki instead of my mind. You don''t want to do that right now. If you try to crush someone like a soda can at this level, you''ll just crush your brain like a soda can."
Yamada feels something drip from his nose. It''s blood.
Naoki sighs. "Yeah lets take a break. While we''re waiting, you remember how we explained techniques and conditions, right?"
"The stricter the condition, the better it is, right?"
"That''s right," says Naoki. "I think this''ll be the perfect way of using your technique without lobotomizing yourself. Do you have any ideas for the conditions you''ll set?"
"Mmm...there''s no point in doing something extremely specific right?"
"Not really. Yes, you''ll make the technique cheaper and stronger if the condition is to use it once a year, on Tuesday, February second, specifically at 9:14 AM. But what''s the point of developing an entire technique, just to use it once. Like, niche abilities are fine. But eventually it just reaches a point of impracticality. Doing all that just clogs up your specialization. Best to keep things loose and usable."
"Hmmm..."
"Another suggestion are mudras. I get that its a PP technique, but using your hands to amplify the technique can not only serve as a condition (and a simple one I might add), but it can also serve good practice for future mudras. You have an extra set of arms after all, so might as well put them to good use."
"Mudras? Like in Buddhism?"
"Exactly."
Yamada scratches his head with one arm while the lower set of arms fold. "I''m sorry Naoki, but I''m unfamiliar with the practice."
"Don''t worry, I''ll teach you in a bit. Just wanted to let you know
Yamada then recalls his fight with Saizo, and brightens up.
"Oh the irony," says Yamada, smiling. "I just know exactly what to do."
.
.
.
Present day
The fight is happening.
Yamada hooks Saizo in the face with his lower set of arms. One of Saizo''s teeth flies out and hits the crowd. The student that was thrown by Yamada crawls away. Yamada doesn''t let up.
"(Remember yesterday''s training,)" thinks Yamada to himself. Due to his body''s awkward sense of balance, Yamada uses the hook''s trajectory to twirl on one leg and land on the ground with all six of his limbs.
[Hook] -> Shift to [Cockroach stance]
Crawling towards Saizo, Yamada''s front arms latch on to the gangster''s legs. The gangster in turn tries to stuff the takedown by leaning forward, and kneeing Yamada''s face. Yamada in turn, blocks the knees with his front arms, while the second pair of arms slowly crawl from the ground up to Saizo''s ankles. The crowd all back up and make a lot of space for the two.
"(Just like Naoki taught,)" thinks Yamada to himself. Wrapping his arms around Saizo''s legs, Yamada wrangles Saizo to the ground, and quickly crawls on top of the vessel. Yamada''s legs hook themselves around Saizo''s legs. Yamada''s lower pair of arms push down on Saizo''s arms, all while the upper pair slam onto the gangster''s face. Though Yamada''s body can''t twist very well, he makes up the lack of power with the strikes by throwing downward hammer strikes and even latching onto Saizo''s pompadour to slam Saizo''s head to the ground.
However, due to Saizo''s greater strength, he eventually pulls his arms out of Yamada''s grasp. With his arms out, he uses them to slap away Yamada''s hands and protect his face.
"What''s the point of protecting your face," says Yamada, focusing on pinning the arms back down. "If I''m just going to pin them down aga-"
And then Yamada''s face is greeted with a glass bottle, shattering on his eye.
For what Yamada didn''t see, was that Saizo was slowly forming a bottle out of his pompadour through [Liquor maker]. Saizo''s hands being close to his face meant that he could use Yamada''s concentration against him, and hide the actual intention of forming the bottle, infusing it with ki and then slamming it on Yamada''s face.
Yamada rolls to the side, holding onto his face. He crawls backwards so that Saizo doesn''t immediately follow up with an attack.
"(Shit...)" Thinks the cockroach to himself. "(I didn''t want to use it this soon but, if he takes out my other eye then all of this would''ve been for nothing.)"
Saizo on the other hand, gets up. He thinks to himself. "(If I rush him down, I''d overwhelm him with my force. But I can also this this time to use [Liquor maker] again...Yeah fuck it, I get more out of that anyway.)"
FOOMP. A sound is made as a bottle pops out of Saizo''s pompadour. The gangster looks at the bottle. A rich, 43%, Japanese Gin. Saizo makes an annoyed face. "(Ok so when I drink casually I get the weak shit but now in the middle of a fight of COURSE I get the expensive stuff ??. Well whatever, I''ll just have to enjoy it as much as I can.)"
Saizo starts backpedaling while chugging the drink. "(I have to backdash or else I''m vulnerable.)" The gangster then notices Yamada isn''t chasing after him. With the bottle half empty, Saizo looks at Yamada. "(No...)" Thinks Saizo to himself. "(Something''s off.)"
Yamada stands up and intensely stares at Saizo with his one eye. The lower pair of arms fiddle their hands together, attempting to make a mudra. "When you bragged about killing the guy in your past," starts Yamada. "Was it a kid?"
Saizo''s face morphs from one of confusion to quiet anger. "Don''t pretend you''re doing any of this for anyone from my past. You don''t know me, and you don''t know what we''ve been through. And besides." Saizo feels the effect of the alcohol affect him. "We were all kids back then."
Successfully distracting Saizo, Yamada''s lower pair of arms finally perform the Kubera mudra. Yamada closes his eyes and admits aloud: "You''re right. That''s in the past now."
Saizo, gritting his teeth, chugs the last half of the gin, and breathes in. [Rev up]. He then runs straight at Yamada with a cocked fist. [Bur-]
Yamada in turn, only greets the malice by opening his unscathed eye, and making eye contact with Saizo for a mere split second.
"Look over here." Announces Yamada.
All of a sudden, Saizo stops in the middle of his tracks. He stares into space. There he sees the cockroach, standing out in the open. A blank white canvas surrounds Yamada. Saizo turns around. Markings. Pure, segmented, perpendicular markings that stretch onwards beyond where Saizo could even see. A tall, infinite expanse of lines.
"Wait..." Says Saizo to himself. He looks at it for a couple seconds longer. "Is this...a grid?"
He looks to the left. A small green dot appears. He sees the dot slowly move up and towards the right side. Net positive. Yes... Amazon. Coca-Cola. Home Depot. Yes. Invest, invest, invest. He doesn''t know what the hell a "Tesla" is, but there''s a gut feeling that the potential profit is through the roof. The line then sharply inclines, spiking upwards. Yes. YES. This is it! More; MORE. He hears himself mumbling at a fast pace. "Approve approve approve. Invest. Invest. Sell. Invest. Sell. ArrghhAAARggHHH. WHAT IS A BITCOIN AND WHY DO I WANT IT?"
From there, the green lines inclines so hard it turns into a vertical line. He starts automatically converting the function of the graph into equations.
"I..." He says in a haze. "I don''t even know what a ratio is but I...I see it. I know it. I get it."
Kneeling and frothing at the mouth, Saizo''s eyes turn into green dollar signs. He stops thinking in his own language and starts frantically chanting in mathematical concepts. There he sees the chart spiral out of control into ratios. Math; operations to express nature. The lines eventually malform and convert themselves into golden ratios, forming an even bigger picture. He stares out into a kaleidoscope. An image so beautiful, yet he can''t even comprehend it.
All of this takes place in the span of one second.
In reality, as Saizo is stunned, Yamada cocks his fist and says to himself.
"Language of beauty
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.Universal art
The hand that makes green
Is also made of green."
With the incantation done, Yamada bursts forward. His wings help to accelerate him to top speeds. "I sacrifice 10% of my ki for this next attack."
The mural of math that Saizo was staring at disappears, as Yamada''s fist slowly careens towards the gangster''s face. Despite seeing this in slow motion, the effect still lingers, leaving Saizo vulnerable. The vessel clicks his tongue in reaction to this. "Tsk. Shi-."
CRUNCH
Seeing the trajectory, students jump out of the way as Saizo is launched backwards. Tumbling into the dirt, the vessel''s face is mangled, with his nose punched into its socket, as well as a giant bruise permeating around it. Using the momentum, the gangster goes along with the trajectory, rolling backwards until he eventually gets up. Seeing the cockroach fly towards him, Saizo grits his teeth and huffs in a large gust of air. His skin turns into a bright shade of red. He can feel [Neuropathy entrope] working, as well as his senses dulling down; especially since he has a physical body now, the alcohol acts a bit more potent.
"Nobody''s hit my perfect nose before," he mutters to himself in a nasally voice. "So you''re gonna pay for it you stupid bitch." Waiting for Yamada to come towards him, Saizo cocks his arm back, preparing for the attack that knocked Yamada out originally. Despite his reactions getting slower, having Yamada crash himself into Saizo would take away the need for perfect timing.
Seeing this, Yamada, mid-flight, thinks on the spot. "(I can''t turn harshly or else the whiplash will leave me vulnerable.)" The cockroach then stops flapping his wings, and sticks his feet into the ground as a sort of emergency brake. "(This better work...)" Thinks Yamada to himself, planning his next move ahead.
"HERE IT COMES," yells Saizo with a malicious glare.
[V8 Tormenta]
Saizo wildly whips his cocked arm forward. The air ignites as he lets his fist rip.
KKCCHHHRRRRRRRR
Yamada''s flesh is torn, as Saizo''s fist bursts through the cockroach''s chest.
All the students stare. In amazement. In disgust. In bewilderment.
Saizo stares in front of him. The now empty husk that is on his fist. He looks up at Yamada''s cold, empty, dead eyes staring down at him. His flesh begins to burn like paper. A million thoughts race in his mind. "(Did I kill him? Am I going to get punished for this? What''s going to happen to me now? And the most prominent of them all.
Something''s off.)"
He lifts Yamada''s body up. It was less than ten pounds.
STEP STEP STEP STEP STEP
Saizo turns around in a panic.
Only to get greeted by two hooks simultaneously hitting him in the face and ribs at the same time.
Knocked to the ground Saizo looks at who invited themselves to the fight.
Only to be greeted by a brand new, fresh, Yamada. His skin glistening with a clear, white texture.
Saizo looks at the faux corpse. "You...*hic* You..."
"That''s right," says Yamada. "I molted."
Saizo, the students, and even Naoki all say the same thing aloud. "Eeeeeeewwwww...."
Yamada rolls his eyes. "(I don''t blame them, I had the same reaction too...)"
Ripping his arm out of the molt, Saizo cracks his neck once more. They both circle around each other.
Yamada thinks to himself. "(Even though that worked, I need to finish this fight soon. Now that I molted, that means I''m more vulnerable. And that''s not even counting how expensive that was for my Ki...)"
Likewise, Saizo thinks to himself too. "(I...I *hic* I think I milked the re...wards of the gin as far as I could...I just need to get him fucked up and then... I think I''m gonna hurl but...I think that''ll leave him...yeah....Asshole. Bitch. Cunt. Stupid. Yeah.)" He opens his mouth.
At the same time, they look at each other, dead in the eye, and trade the same line.
"Look over here."
[Share the shot] vs [Stock Collapse]
Exchanging psychological blows, Saizo is stunned for a second. He reexperiences the same amazement of finding out what a ratio is for the first time again. Meanwhile, Yamada notices his nose is bleeding. "(Is this from overusing [Stock Collapse] at this level? Nevermind that, I need to-)" Right as Yamada moves forward, he feels an overwhelming wave of nausea, confusion, and numbness. A head splitting migraine hits him. The cockroach kneels on the ground and screams, holding his head.
The cockroach looks up.
THWACK
Yamada is greeted by a knee to the face.
Street Style Pro Wrestling: Shining Wizard
"Gotcha you stupid bitch."
Yamada falls back to the ground. His fresh face already malformed with a large dent on his cheek. Frustrated, Yamada flaps his wings to get up, and launches himself towards Saizo. "No, I got YOU."
Yamada clutches onto the vessel, trying to take him off the ground. Saizo, now with a clear head, grounds himself and uses Yamada''s momentum against himself. Attempting a Judo toss, Saizo hurls the mid-air roach into the ground.
Only for Yamada to land on his legs.
"(Just... as Naoki taught...)"
With both of them on the ground, they try to throw each other. Yet, Saizo is too strong and has a better sense of being "grounded" compared to Yamada. Meanwhile, Yamada''s inebriation prevents him from executing any strong moves. Despite that, Yamada denies Saizo''s throws by eventually sticking the landing.
"(No..I gotta... think differently.)"
Instead of aiming to rip Saizo off the ground, Yamada simply pushes him.
Saizo lifts his leg up to take a step back.
In that moment, Yamada clutches onto Saizo and flies directly upwards.
"(He used the moment I was off the ground to lift me up!)" Thinks Saizo to himself. Gritting his teeth, the vessel clutches onto Yamada, throwing hooks to the cockroach''s ribs as they fly.
Struggling, Yamada flies haphazardly. "You...you know what the difference is between us from last time?" slurs Yamada.
"Let me guess, its some bullshit about skill?" Yells Saizo.
"No. *Hic*"
Despite the strikes to the ribs, Yamada musters all of his strength to put his mandibles as close as possible to Saizo''s ear, and whispers.
"You have a physical body now."
Saizo''s eyes widen.
With the both of them careening down to the ground, Yamada uses Saizo''s body to take the brunt of the damage. Sliding for a long time, a thick, long streak of blood paints the field, with Saizo''s back acting as the brush. Like a grinder against metal, his Ki shaves down extremely quick. His eyes reddened, he death grips onto Yamada''s flesh so hard, it begins to bleed.
The momentum dies down however, and with that, Saizo maximizes his Ki throughout his body to kick Yamada off of his body. Yamada limply falls back, holding his chest. "(I guess that''s the effect of drinking and flying...)" Thinks the cockroach to himself.
Stomping forward, Saizo gets on top of Yamada, and with bloodshot eyes, stares at the cockroach.
"You BITCH."
Yamada doesn''t respond.
Saizo chokes Yamada with his left hand, and starts pummeling with his right hand.
Yamada doesn''t respond, and simply stares.
Saizo furrows his brow. "What is this? Huh? Got something to say?"
As he hammers more and more strikes, Naoki clenches his fist. He purses his lips, staring at the beatdown.
Saizo''s pummels slow down. Despite his anger, he feels the cockroach''s will fade.
Yamada, with swollen, broken chitin all over his face, simply stares.
"I''m done." Says Yamada.
Saizo growls. "What, you''re just trying to worm your way out of this one?"
"No. I''m done. I don''t care about this fight anymore."
Saizo''s face grows into one of confusion. "Is this you showing me some sort of pity?"
Yamada''s mandibles purse up. Despite lacking eyebrows, everyone could tell that he was furrowing them.
"Man you''re dumber than you look. When I say I''m done, I''m done. I got what I wanted. I don''t want to fight you anymore. I don''t know how else to put it."
Saizo gets up and looks at Yamada. "So I win?"
"You can call it that if you''d like. I just want to get this over with."
Saizo thinks for a second.
"(I won''t lie, I want this to end too. But I also can''t let the others see I''m a bitch so at least that cares of that. I''m hurting like hell but a night in the vat won''t hurt. Plus if I kill him right here that''ll only make things worse so...)"
Saizo eventually steps to the side and dusts himself off.
Yamada, still on the ground, lifts his hand.
Saizo stares.
"Can you give me a hand?" Says Yamada.
Saizo gives the most confused look possible.
"Are you going to give me a hand or not?" Asks Yamada.
Saizo scoffs and lazily yanks Yamada up. The gangster spits to the side and walks off. There, Yamada sees the amount of flesh shaved off of his back. So much of it is gone, it almost exposes Saizo''s spine.
Saizo stops and thinks to himself. "(Just to check...)"
The gangster turns around. "You''re a bitch Yamada, and you will always be one. Remember that."
The gangster turns around and walks away.
Expecting a punch to the back of the head, or some sort of attack, Saizo hides his right fist, and focuses all of his Ki into it.
"Hey," calls Yamada out.
Saizo turns around.
Yamada sticks his middle finger. "Sit and spin on it." He then sticks three more middle fingers with his other arms.
Saizo gives a confused look, scoffs, and walks away. Ken walks up and follows Saizo. Most of the students start to clear out. Naoki stays behind and waits for Yamada.
Yamada looks around and spots the student he hurled at Saizo earlier. He walks up to them.
Standing at 5''5", the student wears a yellow shirt along with overalls. It''s Sora, one of Kyouji''s assistants.
"Hey," says Yamada.
Sora crosses her arms. "The fuck was that all about?"
"It was in the heat of the moment. I thought doing something aggressive and unpredictable would''ve helped me. But I will admit, that was uncalled for."
"So this is your apology?" Scoffs Sora.
Yamada spreads his arms out. "Just so we''re even, go ahead and hit me. I understand."
Sora scrunges her nose. She hesitates but eventually kicks Yamada down. She punches him in the face. Again, and again. By the third punch, she sees Yamada blankly stare up.
"Tsk." Sora steps aside. "This ain''t it."
"Have you had your fill?" Asks Yamada.
"No its like... this is just weird, you know? Like I get what you''re doing, but it doesn''t really help. I don''t feel satisfaction from beating you up, even if we''re getting even, you know?"
Yamada, perplexed, asks. "So how should we get even?"
"Look man, its over. I won''t tell you how to get even but I personally don''t care anymore. Just don''t do that shit again, ok?"
Yamada''s mandibles perk up. "Aye, fair enough." He wriggles around for a bit. "My body''s in pain so I don''t want to fly again. Mind giving me a hand?"
Sora rolls her eyes and helps him up. She then walks away with the rest of the students.
The only one left is Naoki. He sternly stares at Yamada. "Did you get yelled at by her?"
"Sort of. I definitely learned my lesson in that regard." Answers Yamada, sitting down.
Naoki''s face slowly perks up a smile. "Fine then. I was going to yell at you but, it seemed your two sort of figured it out. I won''t tell you how to live your life Yamada. But don''t forcefully (and literally) drag other people into your problems. Ok?"
Yamada gives a weirded out look. "I thought you said you weren''t going to lecture me."
"Sorry, force of habit. Anyway, aside from the obvious, did you learn anything else from...whatever this was?"
"Kind of. First of all, I learned that Psychopower abilities give you an awful headache, both on the giving and receiving end."
"(Can confirm...)" Thinks Naoki to himself.
"Second of all..." says Yamada, before pausing. A couple seconds pass. "I think...I don''t know. I don''t think this was the right way of going about things, but I also don''t think it was a wrong way either. It''s certainly a painful way but, I got an answer that seemed sufficient. This might not be the healthiest way of going about things but, I feel like I got what I wanted, and I''m fine with that."
"And what was it that you wanted?"
"I guess I wanted to prove something to myself. Sort of confidence, but also a sense of worth. But then I realized the only person who''s opinion I should care about, is my own. So in one hand, doing this was silly. On the other, I learned something. And I think that''s pretty great."
Naoki looks at him and smiles. "I agree on the stupid part. But I''m also happy for you."
Yamada looks at him and smiles. "Thanks. Now, can you take me to Ms. Gretchen? I can''t feel my legs anymore."
.
.
.
About an hour later, Ken and Saizo sit in the medical office. Gretchen recently just left, and suggested Ken to bring some food to Saizo. They''re the only ones there.
Saizo is patched up with copious amounts of bandages. They''re all red. He peacefully eats a cup of ramen that Ken brought to him. Ken on the other hand smokes a cigarette.
"So," starts Ken. "Did you get anything out of that?"
"Not really." Says Saizo.
"Ah, so you were serious about that whole ''a fight is a fight'' thing?"
Saizo rolls his eyes. "Well duh. I don''t give a shit about Yamada. He had some beef, we fought, that''s it."
"That''s it? Look at how the guy left you dude. Doesn''t it burn like hell? I''m surprised you of all people don''t hate him."
Saizo grunts. "Yeah, that''s the one thing I don''t miss about having a physical body. You feel everything. On the upside though," Saizo lifts up his cup of ramen mid slurp. "I can actually taste and eat food again."
"As for the hate thing like... I don''t care for Yamada. Like sure, he earned an ounce of my respect, but that''s it. And I''ll admit this: he''s at least entertaining. At least in the way you find an annoying person ''entertaining''. They''re obnoxious most of the time, but there''s that one moment where they manage to do something interesting. That sort of entertaining."
Ken scratches his head. "You''re the most backwards person I''ve met."
Saizo ignores it, and stands up. He rummages around the medical office to see if there''s any snacks or meal boxes that happened to be there.
Ken snickers. "Fatass."
Saizo grimaces and looks back. Judging from last time though, he decides on the spot that his hunger is greater than his ego.
"Ah...aha." Says Saizo, grabbing a small box. "Found something." Saizo opens the box and sees some grilled meat inside. He sits back down and starts chewing on the meat.
"So what''s next?" Asks Ken.
"Same as usual. I''m gonna ask to be scouted by a team so that I can recruit my friend back here." As he speaks, he audibly struggles to chew the stringy parts of the meat.
"D''aww, you''re getting tired of little ol'' me?" Snickers Ken.
"Yeah. But seeing as how I''m practically the only friend you have, I don''t complain out of pity."
Ken turns to him. "Pity? Bitch, please. I''m only around your dog ass because I pity you. Without me and Viral, your ass would be six feet under. You think you''re the only one I talk to? Tch. Fuck outta here."
Saizo stops chewing and looks at Ken with a disgruntled look. He then turns back to his food.
"What, got something to say now?" Asks Ken.
Saizo shakes his head. "Right now, I only care about eating. I''ll beat your ass another day."
Ken scoffs. "Tch. Yeah, yeah."
Silence. Over time, the tension slowly dissapears.
Eventually, the door to the medical office opens. In comes Kyouji.
He looks at the two vessels, and then at the tray that Saizo is eating out of.
"What are you doing with my samples?" Asks Kyouji.
"Not yours anymore." Simply replies Saizo, taking a large bite out of the fatty tissue.
"Those are brains." Says Kyouji.
Saizo slowly looks down after swallowing.
"Wait then why are they grilled?" Asks Ken.
Kyouji opens his mouth, before realizing he doesn''t have an answer to that. He then closes his mouth and stares. The two vessels stare back.
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
.
.
.
Later that night, Yamada stands in front of Naoki''s dorm room.
Naoki opens the door. "Come in. We only got a couple hours before I leave."
"What''s this about now?" Asks Yamada.
"Your fight wasn''t bad. But it wasn''t good either. Though some of that''s on me for not teaching you about fundies and shit. Here, take a seat."
"Fundies?" Asks Yamada, poking at the GUNDAM figure on the shelf.
"Fundament- HEY, don''t touch that. That took me like five days to make I''m not kidding."
"Sorry."
"It''s fine. Anyway, fundamentals. And I think I found the best way to teach you. Here," Says Naoki, handing a controller to Yamada. "I''ll teach your through some good ass Tekken."
.
.
.
9 PM
A man with a balanced physique wearing pitch black jeans, leather jacket, and a motorcycle helmet stands at the top of a mountain. He looks out into the neighboring city. He then looks down at a flyer.
"DO YOU WISH TO BRING BACK THE GLORY DAYS OF KYOTO?
VOTE FOR USHIYAMA KITO TODAY!"
The flyer lists a phone number.
"Kito..." Mutters the man. "Lets see if you''re worthy enough to succeed Yamazaki Saizo the great."
The motorcyclist storms down the mountain at top speed.
『Chapter 24: My effect on you』
Midnight in Japan
Jin, the boy with the owl mask, sits in Mishima''s office. The room is nearly pitch black.
"So, why''d you ask me to come here now?"
"Two main reasons." Says Mishima, illuminated by the glow of his computer. "For starters, I''ve been reading through Ushiyama Kito''s history. It seems paper thin. Alongside some miscellaneous info, like the fact that he''s never taken vaccine''s before, he seems to have lived a typical life until he left his parent''s house."
Jin raises his eyebrow. "...And?"
"From what I''ve gathered, he disappeared for a while before coming back to Japan. He''s been working in the harbor and as far as I can tell, that''s about it. But this all seems too clean. I''ve read the files on all of his accomplices lives and they all seemed normal until they met him. Why would they all of a sudden agree to join in a political operation with no background?"
Jin shrugs. "People are idiots. They''ll believe in what makes them feel good, and that''s that."
"That sounds reasonable. But to have this level of confidence while taking this much of a lead after the mayor dies seems a bit too... convenient." Mishima pauses.
Jin leans in. "So what do you want me to do?"
"I want you to kill him."
Jin blinks. "Over... a hunch?"
"Yes."
"And what if he''s an innocent person?"
"Then we''ll take care of that," simply says Mishima. "You already know how these things go."
Jin rolls his eyes. "Yeah, sure."
The next morning.
7:56 AM
Jin camps up on the same roof he was at last time. Along with his rifle, he has coffee and bread. He sets his rifle up and peers through Kito''s window. Jin, mid-sip in his coffee, sees Kito open the window drapes, before walking away.
"Tch." Scoffs Jin to himself, putting the coffee down. "Lucky bastard."
Jin peers his eye through the scope once again. Kito is sitting down directly in front of the window reading the newspaper.
Kito looks up.
Jin, open-eyed, meet''s Kito''s gaze. As if hearing a train blare at him from behind, his instincts scream at him to turn around. He does so.
A fist stops a mere millimeter away from Jin''s face. The force of the punch blows air past the student''s face. Behind the fist is Kasumi Murobuchi and his eerie, permanent smile.
"What the fuck?" Yells Jin. He backs away, circling around Kasumi. Kasumi, as still as a statue, keeps the punching pose. Just as Jin aims his rifle at Kasumi''s head, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kito''s window.
Kito is gone.
Instinctively, Jin yells "OH SHIT-" and jumps to the side, turning to an owl. Kito, climbing up the building, finally lands on the roof.
"I sacrifice 80% of my Ki to fly away for thirty seconds" declares Jin, jetting away at mach speeds.
Kito, beginning a runner''s start, kneels...before standing back up again. "You, know, next time, I''ll just jump out the window and go straight here."
Kasumi unfreezes, and stands up normally. "Whaddya mean boss?"
"If I didn''t try to go down the stairs, blur past the civilians and scale this building, while being as quiet as possible mind you, I''m pretty sure I could''ve severed that kid''s spine in half." Kito snaps his fingers and says in a chipper tune. "So close!"
"Can''t we catch him though?"
"See that''s what I''m thinking. You most likely can, its just that him flying would deny you from getting near him. And I could, with some effort but... I''m weighing my options right now. See, there''s a chance he''s just some random sorcerer but- let''s grow a brain here. He''s definitely from the Ordinance Academy. So, no real nice way to put but, we''re a bit... inconvenienced. Now here''s what I''m thinking. If I severed his spine, we could''ve wrung the information out of him. But the important thing would be confirming that''s he''s from the Academy... And we already know that. Now if we killed him, I''m assuming they''d bring the top brass against us. And though we''d win, I gotta be blunt, I doubt each one of you would survive."
"But now that we let him go, what now?"
"Well, this just confirms that we''re sorcerers so, all that acting was for nothing. But, he''s alive. And thus, this could make the Academy underestimate us for now. Which to be frank, I would much prefer fighting some low tier students than an actual agent. For now, its about lasting as long as possible rather than staying undercover. I''d like to think this works for us simply because the runner up for mayor suddenly disappearing would tilt way too many heads. People would be talking, and that''s not good for any government."
"Ah. Gotcha. Say, how''d you know he was gonna come anyway?"
"I''ve been sensing familiar ''presences'' for the past couple days. That''s why I called you up this morning to finally get rid of them and we were just- so close. It''s whatever though. A setback, but a minor one for now. I''ll leave this be future Kito''s problem. For now, I simply want to enjoy the moment. You''re not busy right now, are you?"
Kasumi shrugs. "Not really. What''s up?"
"Let''s get some breakfast. Egg on top of rice sounds good right about now."
.
.
.
Later that day, in Naoki''s room.
The both of them are staring at a Tekken character select screen.
"Ok so, have you ever played Tekken before?" Asks Naoki.
"No." Simply responds Yamada.
"Ok...let me rephrase that. Have you ever played a fighting game before?"
Yamada chuckles. "Naoki, the last video game console I touched was the Nintendo 64."
Naoki turns his head and shouts. "God DAMN you''re old."
Yamada''s smile evaporates. "So what were you saying about Tekken..."
"Sorry. Uh yeah, so Tekken''s a 3D fighting game. It''s really cool, and I think its an easy way for me to teach you fundamentals. Now granted, real life isn''t a video game. You''re not gonna be juggling bitches in mid-air with combos like in this game... OK with Ki existing, I wouldn''t doubt some sorcerer in the world can do that, but still. My point is that there''s some thing you can learn from this. Take a look at the characters here and choose the one that you like the most."
Yamada skims through the characters. He tilts his glasses and comments at each one. "...Why does he have a jaguar head but the body of a man?"
"It''s just a mask. He still talks like a jaguar though."
"...That makes no sense...Why does this guy have segments all over his body?"
"He''s a giant Russian robot."
"I see...This guy looks scary."
"Yeah, he''s a psychotic cyborg zombie who lives to spread chaos and violence. So the true American character."
"Interesting..."
Eventually, Yamada picks his character.
"Kuma?" Asks Naoki.
"Haha, yeah," says Yamada with a smile. "It''s a bear...who''s name is bear. That''s so silly!"
Naoki stares at the cockroach. "You are such a cornball dude." Naoki then picks his character: Lee Chaolan.
"Who is that?" Asks Yamada.
"He''s a hard to use character but he makes up for it in flashiness and style. He''s also the ex adopted brother and adopted son of the main villains. It''s a long story."
Lee finishes his intro cutscene. "Also, he''s just like that, you know?"
"No." Responds Yamada.
"Alright for starters," says Naoki. "This game has high, mids, and lows. If you press back, you block highs and mids- but not lows. But if you hold down and back, then you block lows and dodge highs- but not mids. So, press 3+4 and you''ll enter a stance."
Yamada stares at his controller. "3+4...? All I see are X, square, triangle, and circle?"
"No- ughhh. 1 is your left hand, 2 is your right hand, 3 is left leg, 4 is right leg. So do 3+4."
"..." Yamada looks at Naoki. "7."
"DUDE- no."
Naoki then took an hour to explain Tekken''s button notations.
"OK. SO." Starts Naoki again, with a raspy voice. "Lucky for you and me, both of our characters rely on their stances."
"Stances?" Asks Yamada.
"Its like when you crawl on your limbs and you fight totally different compared to when you''re standing up."
"Ohh, I gotcha. But how is that important?"
"Its important because stances give you options. So, try to predict whether I''m going to go for a normal attack or a low."
Yamada blocks normally.
Naoki does a low attack. This trips Yamada''s character.
"That shit''s a mixup. We call them 50/50s and they''re super important for fighting- not only in this game, but also in real life."
"So its a guessing game?" Asks Yamada.
"That''s right. Normally, if you defend right, you can punish my attempt. But if I guess right, then I do lots of damage and I win."
Naoki proceeds to grab Yamada''s character. "Also sometimes I can just grab instead of going for a mid or a low." Continues Naoki.
Yamada, annoyed, turns to Naoki. "Then that''s not a 50/50 that''s a 33/33/33..."
"You know what I mean..." grunts Naoki.
The teenager looks at the time. He then gets up and explains. "Welp! I hope you enjoyed your training session."
"But we''ve only played for two minutes?"
"And we also spent an hour learning what the buttons are so- that''s how time flows." Explains Naoki. "Anyway, feel free to take the console and tv to your room. You can continue playing around with the game. It''s the weekend so, I''m gonna be heading out for a while. See you when I get back."
"I see. See you later, Naoki." Says Yamada, continuing to fiddle around with the game.
Naoki leaves his dorm room, donning his civilian disguise. He still wears his stylish sneakers, on top of a baggy hoodie and black shorts.
.
.
.
An hour passes.
8 PM
Naoki strolls around the city. From the busy market, to the arcade, and eventually towards the beaches.
Naoki goes to an outdoor ice cream shop. He feels an odd sensation, as if something familiar was there. The person just ahead of him in the line looks back. They reek of salt and fish. They''re wearing a black bandana.
Naoki and Kito lock eyes. The man smiles, motioning for Naoki to come over.
Naoki thinks about the person in front of him. Getting cut in a line feels pretty bad, after all.
"My cousin is back from the bathroom," says Kito to the person behind him. The person nods and lets Naoki pass.
"What are you doing here?" Asks Naoki.
"I''m done for the day. This is my favorite ice cream shop in town. What are you doing here?" Rebuts Kito.
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.
"Done with school, and the weekends are the only time I have off so, I like to make the most of it."
"By the way," says Kito. "Pick which one you want. I''ll pay for you."
"Are you sure?"
"Psh, it''s not like I work for a living. I know how little teenagers get for allowance."
Naoki shrugs. "Well alright. I''d like the chocolate mint ice cream please."
"Gross." Says Kito before ordering for Naoki.
Naoki has a comical vein on his forehead.
The both of them go outside and sit on a bench.
"Thanks for buying the ice cream, Mr...Kito?"
"Correct. And you might as well tell me your name if we''re going to keep bumping into each other."
"It''s Shingo," says Naoki.
Kito turns to him and looks him dead in the eye. "Are you lying to me, Shingo?"
Naoki freezes, before slowly answering "You shouldn''t give your name to strangers."
"Fair enough." Says Kito. "Anyway, there''s no reason to thank me. After all, you owe me after this one" he says, biting into his wasabi ice cream.
"You bite your ice cream? You animal..." Mutters Naoki under his breathe. "Also... that''s kinda lame. I could''ve just paid for it."
Kito shakes his head. "I''m kidding. Kind of. It''s all to paint a point."
"Am I getting lectured now?" Asks Naoki.
"That''s right. I''m sure you already know this but, loyalty is a fickle thing."
Naoki looks over at him with a raised eyebrow. "Are you projecting right now?"
Kito chuckles. "Not necessarily. I haven''t been betrayed yet. And don''t get me wrong, loyalty is a great thing, for sure. But as much as we cherish it, relationships aren''t eternal. Friends leave due to circumstances. Even siblings can break from time to time. People are only loyal as long as you have something they want."
Naoki pauses. "I mean...are you sure about that? I understand the world isn''t sunshine and rainbows but... even siblings?"
"Not every family is tightly wound. I''m not sure if you have a sibling but, if you do, don''t you ever have disputes with them?"
Naoki looks down. "I have a sister...yeah. I love her to death but we butt heads often. If anything, what you''re saying sounds a lot like something she would say."
Kito grunts. "Hmph. Interesting. Speaking of your sister, do you care for her?"
Naoki slowly turns to him. "...Yeah? Of course?"
The air gets warmer. "Good. She needs it. Women are disadvantaged by nature. Its up to men to look out for them."
"I uhh... I think she would slap you if she heard that, Kito."
Kito shakes his head. "But its the truth." He turns to Naoki and looks him in the eye. "Trust me kid, its not out of misogyny. Do you think bleeding every month without asking is fair? Do you think that women should be out alone without supervision?"
"Can''t a woman watch out for herself?"
"Kid, I know you''re not stupid. Men are evil. When men have the advantages that they do, they''ll do what comes naturally. Thus is nature."
Naoki purses his lips. "I...I see."
"And besides, hormones are difficult to manage."
"Well, that goes for anyone."
"Not when they''re being pumped out at an extreme rate."
Naoki looks at him wide-eyed.
Kito in turn, looks at him. "It''s the truth. We all have a place in nature. You can either accept, and make the best out of it. Or reject it, and die trying. I would hate to be a woman. I pity them; I do. But with the duty of a man, I''ll do my best to protect them. If nature would allow us to be the same, that would be great. Unfortunately, nature does not care. So I will."
Naoki slowly shuffles. His half eaten ice cream plops to the ground. "We... all have a place in nature?"
"That''s correct. We make the best out of our own situation. Whether it be a woman that''s over six feet tall, or a man who''s born with a disability, we all adapt and evolve for our sake. We strive for our reason to live. And ironically enough, nature stays the same. The patterns that dictated man has carried over for thousands of years. As it was back then, it still is now. Men are on top, and it is our duty to secure it."
Naoki finds his breathing stifled. "And what about you, Kito. What''s your purpose in nature?"
The sky splits open. The sunset appears as a bright, flashing red.
"To win."
Naoki can''t say anything.
"The world is a cruel place." Says Kito. "Loyalty is fickle. We are ultimately alone on this planet. Hell, the only thing we truly own, are our bodies. And we have to make do with it. I may not be the tallest, nor the smartest. But you best believe that I''ll do anything in my power to win this election. It''s the optimal way to live life. Consider this lecture a warning. Unwarranted advice, but advice nonetheless."
"Why are you telling me all this?" Asks Naoki.
"Because, I''m doing to you what I''ll do to this province."
Naoki simply stares at the ground. His ice cream drips down his hand. "And how do you know that you''re fit to be a leader?" Asks Naoki.
Kito shrugs. "We''ve given plenty of people a chance. I know what this society needs. Things were better back then, so we''ll do that instead."
"But everyone has a different way of living. You can''t just dictate how society works."
"Yes, I can, actually. That''s politics. Influence the way things work, people will eventually work that way."
Naoki freezes.
"Listen kid," continues Kito. "I''m the one fit for the job. It doesn''t stem from arrogance, it''s simple confidence."
Naoki tries to respond with "that''s what an arrogant person would say."
Yet nothing but stammers leave Naoki''s lips.
"Society can''t be dictated by weak men." Continues Kito. "So I''ll make things work the way they''re supposed to."
Kito then looks at his watch. "Hmph. Would you look at that?" He gets up. "As much as I would like to continue, it''s ten ''till 9. I have business to attend to. I hope you have a good rest of your night, ''Shingo.'' We''ll talk soon enough."
Kito then walks away, finishing his ice cream.
Naoki sits on the bench. His body feels limp. He stares out into space.
"Yeah."
.
.
.
Naoki eventually walks back towards the academy.
His mind is occupied.
.
.
.
The first person he sees is Makoto. She''s minding her own business, getting coffee in the lounge.
Naoki goes up to her and without a word, hugs her.
Makoto, confused, eventually (and lazily) reciprocates the hug with one arm.
"You smell of sweat...and fish? What''s this all about now?" Asks Makoto.
"I''ve just...I''ve been thinking Makoto." Says Naoki in a quiet tone.
"Oh yeah? About what?"
"Our places in this world."
"...Uh huh?"
"And I don''t know man. I love you. You know that, right?"
Makoto makes a wry face. "You''re acting real corny right now. What happened."
"Nothing its just... well I''ve been thinking about the women in my life and...though I don''t have many, I''m glad I have you."
Makoto lightly exhales out of her nose and smiles. "Oh...thanks?"
"Of course Makoto. I''ll always be there to take care of you."
Makoto looks away with a cocked eyebrow. "Eh...I think I can handle myself just fine but, I still appreciate it Naoki. You''re a good kid."
Naoki leans in for one last hug. "Of course dude. After all, you can''t help it."
Makoto looks down at Naoki.
"...Can''t help what?"
"Well, you know? Your hormones. The way you act?"
"...
...
What."
"Well yeah. With a woman and her periods messing everything up, she needs a guy to support her. You know?"
Makoto immediately pushes herself off of Naoki. "The fuck did you just say to me?"
"Is...Isn''t that how that works?"
Makoto drops the coffee to the ground and immediately slaps Naoki across the face. He stumbles to the ground. "NAOKI. I. DON''T. BLEED." She wrinkles her nose. "Get the fuck out of my face with that shit."
Naoki sits there, blankly looking into space, confused. He then looks back at Makoto.
"Oh my god...I''m sorry Makoto, genuinely. I don''t know what got into m-"
"Save it." She barks. She scoffs and storms off.
Naoki sits on the ground. He makes a wry face. His vision becomes wet and blurry.
.
.
.
30 minutes later, Makoto stands in a hall in deep thought. Viral is beside her.
"What seems to be bothering you, Makoto?" Asks Viral.
"First of all, who are you? Second of all, how do you know my name?"
Viral looks a little saddened. "I''m...Viral, remember?"
"..."
"The exchange student."
"..."
"From Pakistan."
"..."
"...Polio-virus spear."
"Oh! You''re that girl, gotcha."
"We ate lunch with Ken earlier?"
"Going to be honest, I can''t even remember things that happened earlier today unless its important. Unfortunately, I''m remembering something alright."
"What happened?" Asks Viral."
"I was insulted. More specifically, it was out of character."
"By whom?"
"By that little dipshit Naoki. It''s one thing when he''s picking my hair for dandruff in the shower but, its another when he says something so... wrong."
Viral scrunches up her nose. "...You guys take showers together?"
"It''s not what you think. But anyway, this is unlike him. He''s never once concerned me in such a way. And there''s NO way he would come to the conclusions he did today all by himself. So he''s been talking to someone.
-Naota wouldn''t teach him to be this crass. If anything he would teach him the opposite.
-Kyouji doesn''t care about women, much less humans in general.
-And I doubt Akemi even knows what a uterus is.
-He doesn''t talk to the older men in the staff so that''s not it either.
-There''s a slight possibility that Yamada told him this but... he''s so weak and normal that unless he''s secretly a massive misogynist, he wouldn''t say that.
-I bet Saizo would say something like that but, those two don''t really hang around each other.
-And finally, Ken makes fun of everything, but the only instance I would see him being involved, is if he deliberately planned for this to happen. But I didn''t hear a jackass laugh around the corner so, no dice.
There''s plenty of other students but, from the people who typically hang around him, that''s all I can think of."
She continues to ponder about this. "Give me a sec Viral..."
Viral simply stands there. She looks to her right and hears footsteps down the hall. It''s Saizo and Ken.
Saizo walks up to her. "Yo."
"Good evening Saizo," she says with a bow.
"O..ok? Anyway, first and foremost, you''re a real cute girl. You''re also really strong, and I like that in a girl. Whadya you say you go on a date with me?" He says with a sly grin.
Ken in the background chuckles to himself.
Viral blankly blinks. "I''m flattered but, I''m going to have to decline."
Saizo shrugs. "Aight."
Viral looks at the ground, before continuing. "You know Saizo, I expected more from you. I rescued you expecting you to turn your ways. To give you a second chance. I know what its like to be you."
Saizo walks up to her face and narrows his eyes. "What do you know what its like to be me?"
Viral shakes her head. "Let me rephrase that. I''m a vessel too."
Saizo blinks and steps back. "Oh. As a spirit, gotcha."
"I suppose its on me to expect a random stranger to change their ways overnight. I thought someone under the threat of so many contracts and people looking to kill them would understand the situation. But the first thing I see is you agreeing to a fight and continuing your violent ways. I''m sorry but, I can''t love an angry man like that, much less associate with one."
Saizo glares at her. "On one hand, I appreciate your kindness. Truly. On the other, I didn''t ask for you explanation."
Silence.
Saizo eventually starts up again. "Anyway...on a more important note, Ken and I talked to the principal asking if we could go on a patrol to recruit my friend. He''s also a spirit but, if we can get to him, we can turn him into a vessel just like us. If he sees me first, we can even skip the whole fight. I think I already know what the answer is but, I''m still going to ask. Would you like to help us retrieve my friend?"
Viral hesitates but eventually answers. "Yes. I will help you, Saizo."
With surprised eyebrows and a slightly tilted head, Saizo responds. "Alright. But why?"
"I don''t like to judge someone before I meet them... so I won''t. Even if they end up being uncouth, I don''t see the harm in saving someone."
Saizo nods. "Cool. Thank you." He then turns to Makoto. "What about you hot stuff?"
"Kill yourself."
"Right-" Saizo corrects his question. "What about you, Makoto?"
"Better. To answer your question, I''ll go only if Naoki is going too. I have things to go over with him."
"Actually, we were about to ask him next. We''ll let you know afterwards."
.
.
.
"Nice going with Viral." Starts Ken.
Saizo shrugs. "Well she can choose who she wants. It ain''t that deep."
"I was expecting you to be a lot more aggressive, actually."
Saizo gives him an almost insulted look. "Why?"
"Well y''know, gangsters tend to be very hostile when it comes to girls."
"So you''re basing me off a stereotype."
"Yeah, kinda."
Saizo stops walking and clenches his fist. "You''re really starting to piss me off with your assumptions."
Ken''s smile dies down. "Hey man, you win. I don''t want to start a fight, I was just curious."
Saizo loosens up and continues to walk. "Well, I won''t deny that some gangs did that type of thing. But I''m not a fan of assault."
"I know this may sound stupid or insulting but, why? I''m sure one of your gang members at least got a little...handsy, no?"
"Some did, and we''ve dealt with them. But in my gang, we made it a big deal to not do that type of thing."
Ken pauses for a sec. He looks at Saizo''s body language and vibe. He then asks a genuine question. "Forgive me for sounding like an asshole but, all the experiences I''ve had with gangsters were violent. Where did this care for woman come from?"
"Well for starters, my mother was assaulted. And then she had me."
"I- Oh."
Ken pauses and looks down. Silence. He eventually looks back up at Saizo. "I''m sorry to hear that."
Saizo shrugs. "It is what it is."
Ken''s heart beat thickens. He ponders to himself as they walk forwards.
"(He couldn''t even remember his own full name after a month, and yet he remembers something like that. I suppose its true what they say about spirits.
We only remember the things that matter to us.)"
"Say," says Saizo. "I won''t make promises but, if things turn out well, I think you''d like my friend."
Ken turns to him. "Oh?"
"Yeah. See, I''m a pretty aggressive guy."
"Really now?"
"Shut up. But Nakayama he''s... how should I put it? He''s a soft soul. And don''t tell him I said this but, I admit it. He''s stronger than me. Both in terms of abilities, and in character too."
Ken smiles at Saizo. "You know guy, I think that''s the kindest thing you''ve said ever since you got here."
Saizo exhales through his nose. "It comes with respect. He used to be the leader before me too. But then he passed away, and I had to take the reigns."
"Were you a good leader?"
"Oh, hell yeah; I was the best! But in losing a brother, you tend to get angrier. I was already an angry motherfucker to begin with. Now take the guy who calmed you down out of the equation, and you can understand why my gang had the most violent streak when I was in control."
"If you don''t mind me asking, how did you pass away?"
"I..." Saizo turns around with an embarrassed look. "I don''t want to talk about it."
Ken exhales air out of his nose. "Gotcha. You know Saizo, I think you could make a lot of friends here. You just gotta chill, you know?"
"I didn''t ask for suggestions," grumbles Saizo.
"Loneliness sucks, but you can''t depend on another person to regulate your emotions."
Saizo says nothing and frowns.
Ken sighs and thinks to himself. "(Me and my big mouth...)"
.
.
.
Ken and Saizo eventually meet up with Naoki. He''s in a dimly lit hallway standing next to the water fountain.
He''s been holding onto the fountain button for at least three minutes. He''s staring at the water.
"You gonna sip any time soon?" Asks Saizo.
Naoki wakes up. "Oh, sorry. You can use it if you''d like."
Saizo cocks his eyebrow. "Nah man. I was just...nevermind. Anyway, we talked to the principal about retrieving my friend. He''s also a spirit, and if he sees me, we won''t have to fight. With you along we''d get a decent crew. What do you say?"
Naoki looks at him with a hollow look. "Why are you asking me for this?"
Ken bumps into the conversation. "Most people are either out or asleep. We''d ask Yamada but we knocked on his door and he didn''t respond. Akemi would kill the spirit regardless of the mission. And those that are here are just not interested."
Naoki stares at the both of them. He murmurs yet nothing comes out clear.
"(He''s right...)" Thinks Naoki to himself. "(Loyalty is a fickle thing. It doesn''t matter who they choose as long as they get something out of it. And what would I even get from this anyway? A boost in ego? A reward? I would just be wasting time. At best it''s a kind, waste of time. At worst, something wrong will happen, and we''ll die. Granted, I don''t know how but... why should I risk my life for this?)"
Ken looks at Naoki with narrowed eyes. "Hey, are you good?"
"(It''s a shame. The things he said are turning out true. How stupid could I be. How na?ve. The last time I helped someone, I almost got myself spiritually lobotomized and another person executed. Even...Makoto... has a point. These adults and their calloused souls. But what''s a calloused soul to a stupid fucking kid anyway? One wins; it is truth. That''s the way the world works. It''s all nature. It''s all nature. And now I''m left cursing either myself, or Naota. That retard Naota. Shame on you for raising me this way. Shame on me for continuing to listen to you. Buddha this. Detachment that. Detach this foot out of your ass after I''m done with you you fucking moron. For shame. ON ME. Seeking enlightenment. How ironic. Meditate with an empty mind? How empty-minded. I curse you. I curse you.)"
Ken pokes Naoki.
Naoki looks up and responds.
"Do I look like a bitch to you?"
Saizo and Ken, both wide-eyed look at each other, then turn to Naoki. "What?"
Naoki shakes his head. "Sorry I''m just... I need to go to bed."
Saizo gives him a weirded out glare. "Dude just say no. It''s not that deep."
Ken intervenes and holds Naoki by the shoulder. "It''s ok, go get some rest."
Naoki instinctively slaps Ken''s hand off of himself.
Ken pulls back with a stiff expression.
Naoki simply stands there.
Saizo shrugs, turns around, and walks away.
Ken pauses before following Saizo''s lead.
"(Wha...I...)" Naoki thinks to himself.
His mind goes blank. So many thoughts. Yet not a single comprehensible statement.
"(Wait... no. I''ll put it to the test. If Kito is right... if Makoto is right... The world is a dark place, I know that for sure. But this concept of loyalty. I don''t get anything in return. And doing things for free is silly. But doing things out of something else. For the sake of compassion.)"
With an irked expression, Naoki winces. "(What a silly thought... but I have to try. A hypothesis of sorts. I''ll test it out and see what I get. I don''t know why but, this feeling in my stomach. It hurts; it churns. But I need to prove Kito wrong. A world like that... I simply do not agree. Even if this spirit ends up being another asshole, I just can''t let Kito win. I know its petty, but I need to see the results. I don''t want to revert back to the way I was a couple months ago. Not like this. Not this easily.)"
Running down the halls, Naoki calls out.
"WAIT."
Both of the vessels turn around.
Panting, in a haggard voice, Naoki says "I''ll join you guys tonight."
"...ok." Says Saizo.
Ken gives a worried nod.
.
.
.
Late at night.
Saizo, Ken, Viral, Makoto, and Naoki all exit out of the academy. Saizo is eager. Ken is quiet. Viral is calm.
Makoto is bored, yet still has a chip on her shoulder. She simply looks at Naoki.
He holds himself with a stiff face.
Everyone can sense his contrasting heartbeat.
"Let''s go."
The air is humid. The breeze is cold.
They run towards the harbor.
Slowly yet surely, they sense a loud presence.
『Chapter 25: Breaking』
Earlier in the night, right before the squad headed over to the harbor.
11:09 PM
Saizo and Ken walk down the halls towards Saizo''s room.
"I had that dream again." Starts Saizo.
"What dream?" Asks Ken.
"It was about Nakayama."
"Oh? What happened?"
"We were with the boys, having a good time. For once, I didn''t feel so negative about things. Its odd feeling this comfortable and...happy? I guess that''s the word I''d use. I didn''t have to think about ''collecting debt'' or... yeah I can''t sugarcoat it, burn a building down. It''s weird though. It''s alien to me. But I''m glad that I can find comfort in someone else."
Ken smiles, turns to Saizo, and says a single word while pointing.
"Gay."
Saizo pumps his fist. "You''re lucky I''m in a good mood, or else I''d pummel you again."
Ken sighs and rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But anyway, I''m happy for you. If this guy really is as peaceful as you say he is, then I''d think a lot of people would get along with you quickly."
They eventually arrive at Saizo''s dorm. They enter. The first thing Ken sees are a bunch of empty and unopened bottles, littering the floor. There''s nothing except a half-made bed and an empty desk in the room.
"What are we here for?" Asks Ken.
"I''m preparing a gift." Says Saizo, rummaging through the full bottles.
After a couple minutes, Saizo eventually finds the bottle. "Ahah! Roku Gin. Nakayama''s favorite."
Ken tilts his head. "It''s only been a bit over a week. You''re acting like you haven''t seen him at all in the after life."
Saizo shakes his head. "Call it, a celebration. A new era. Damn if we''re owned by the government, at least we''ll be happy as long as we got each other, ya know?" He eventually grabs a small backpack, puts the bottle inside, and slings the bag on his shoulder.
Ken shakes his head. "I see."
They eventually leave the room.
"Say," starts Saizo. "Why are you helping me out?"
Ken stays silent for a bit, before eventually responding. "Because I''m bored, duh!"
Saizo stares at him before responding. "And then you wonder why people don''t take you seriously."
"Funny thing is, I never said that," responds Ken.
Saizo turns around and gives him a look.
Ken smiles, yet the rest of his face is blank.
They continue walking.
Ken deduces Saizo''s behavior.
.
.
.
Warm breeze. Pleasant shade. The boys are out grilling. A beautiful day at the park.
"Nakayama," Saizo calls out to me.
I wake up. "What''s up bro?"
"I get this is a great day and all, but isn''t there something we should be doing? The rival gangs might get stronger while we''re here wasting time."
I laugh at him. "You''ve got it all wrong. We''re not wasting time."
"Then what are we doing?"
"We''re enjoying life. Come now, let''s share a drink."
I pull the portable cooler closer to me. I grab cold beers for me and Saizo. He licks his lips. He immediately loosens up as he opens the bottle.
I shake my head. "I appreciate your concern for the gang, but we''ve got things under control. Territory dispute this, gang war that. What''s the point of life if we''re going to be stressing about it every day?"
Saizo tenses up again. "I see."
Silence.
"You''re not going to argue back?" I ask. "What''s with you now?"
Saizo sighs. "I love you bro, but recently, I just realized we''re two ultimately different people. I appreciate the way you think. But we can''t change each other''s minds." He sips his beer.
I shake my head.
It saddens me to see him like this. He''s a rough guy, but I get why he''s like this. We can''t do anything about the past, and I won''t lie, its not like I''m his savior. We can''t and shouldn''t depend on others for salvation. Likewise, we shouldn''t force our help onto those who don''t want it.
But it still sucks.
To see my little brother constantly stir around in constant rage. How can you live like that? It''s one thing if the other gangs mess with our little brothers. Its another to punch a hole in the wall after the smallest inconvenience. Its unfortunate.
And yet I still try.
What a fool I am.
"Saizo...I''m not telling you how to live your life. But honestly bro, what good does being angry do you? Do you find joy in it?"
He chugs half the bottle before responding. "What brings this up?"
"I''m just confused bro. There''s so much to life. There''s so much joy to be had. Why waste it all in negativity? Hell, as much as I love my family, I''m not going to be here forever."
"...I suppose we all die eventually."
I laugh. "Not even in that way. You think I''m going to be the leader forever?"
"...Won''t you?"
"No! Hell no, what? You think 40 year old me is going to be hanging around teenagers, telling them what to do? We all have to grow up eventually. I''m going to be spending time with my future kids and wife. I have better shit to look forward to."
Saizo grumbles before finishing his bottle. "What about our dead brothers. Are you going to disgrace them like that?"
I shake my head. "We make it even with the gang wars. After that, we let them rest in peace and continue with our lives."
Oh boy. I can see it. He''s pissed. Yet he doesn''t say anything.
"Look," I continue. "We all have to let go eventually. Living our lives stuck on what happened won''t undo the past. Neither will it make you feel better. Letting that negativity linger in your stomach will only burn more and more, until you''re consumed by it. You''re getting yourself killed. That''s why we have to find peace and live in the moment. That''s what being free is. Freedom is the greatest feeling in the world. Remember that."
I turn to him and smile. "Be free, Saizo."
It takes him a couple minutes before he faces me.
He responds.
I don''t think I like his answer.
I wake up.
Oh right. I''m dead.
How long ago was that... six years ago? Hm.
I look at the phone I stole a couple days ago. It''s 11:28 PM.
Wait... I hear someone. I feel their presence too. No, presences? Who would be out here in the docks late at night? Nobody really works at nighttime.
...I should probably investigate. It''s probably just a couple of civilians walking by... wait no.
Is that...Ki I sense? A fuck ton of it too.
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
...I might have to take care of that.
.
.
.
11:36
Saizo, Viral, Ken, Makoto, and Naoki eventually arrive at the edge of the harbor. The gate is open; not that it really matters since anyone can just walk in. The edge of the harbor is populated with smaller buildings and wooden docks. As they go on towards the heart of the harbor, the buildings grow larger. From small offices to the large factories. It reeks of fish, rust and salt. The harbor is dimly lit, with only a few lights illuminating the roads. The air is humid and warm.
They all look around. Saizo can barely hold himself from jumping up and down.
"Alright so, let''s split up into two groups." Starts Saizo.
"(Uh oh)," thinks Naoki to himself.
"Ken and I will be in one group."
"(Please no no wait don''t-)"
"Meanwhile the three of you will make the other group."
"(FUCKKKKK.)"
Makoto shoots an annoyed glare at Naoki. Naoki can feel the back of his skull melt from her piercing gaze.
Viral stands idly by, in a quiet chipper mood.
Quietly, they all sense something. That loud "presence" that they felt on their way here. It was faint then, but now the pressure is getting stronger.
Viral says to Saizo, "is that your friend we''re sensing?"
"Eh... yeah! Who else would it be? I''m a little surprised he grew this much stronger this quickly, but even then its sorta familiar. Tch, that just goes to show he grew stronger because he missed me." His big grin stays permanent.
"Mmmkay," says Ken, doubtful.
"(Is this a trap?)" Thinks Makoto. "(No...that would be the quickest way to get yourself reverse-jumped. That''s too stupid, even for Saizo. I guess his friend really is just as strong as he made him out to be.)"
They split off. Saizo and Ken towards the far end of the harbor, whereas the other three scouted near the edge of the harbor. Naoki''s group is surrounded by cargo.
A couple minutes pass. Both parties try to track down the presence.
For a majority of the walk, Naoki, Makoto, and Viral are silent. Makoto then lets out a deep sigh. "Naoki."
Naoki doesn''t say anything.
Annoyed, Makoto calls out Naoki''s name again.
He doesn''t respond.
"Hey, you''re the last person to give me a silent treatment," she says in a gruff tone.
"I''m not giving you the silent treatment." He responds. "I can hear you loud and clear. Go ahead, I''m letting you speak."
"Well I would at least appreciate if you could announce that you''re listening."
"I just did."
Makoto looks visibly annoyed. "Here we go again with you acting all smart."
Viral in the middle of course, looks uncomfortable.
Naoki sighs. "What is..." He then stops. "What is that?"
"Don''t you mean ''what is it?''"
"No, don''t you hear it? What is that?"
Eventually, Naoki''s group sense it coming towards them. Faster. Faster.
And then they hear it.
rrrrr
A low murmering
rrrrRRRRRRR
"Is that from the road? No..." Clarifies Viral. "The cargo?"
Everyone hears a loud screech.
Makoto glances down the cramped intersections of the shipments. Seeing the visage of a flaming motorcycle rush towards them, Makoto immediately uses [Kaze] to push Naoki. The gust of wind smacks Naoki against the wall of the shipment, before falling down. Viral and Makoto both jump the side, whereas the motorcycle blurs past them, down the middle of the path.
"Sorry Naoki, its just-"
"It''s ok Makoto," says Naoki, catching his breathe. "I know why you did it. At least we finally found him."
Makoto uses [Kaze] once again; A miniature spinning top made of wind forms beneath her feet. She sits on it cross-legged, and starts chasing down the motorcyle, like a life sized beyblade. Naoki and Viral release a majority of their Ki to catch up to the motorcycle with their bare legs. Naoki sees Viral zoom past him, but notices that she''s moving in pure straight lines, compared to his own swerving motions. The motorcycle screeches down the pathways, where Naoki parkours throughout the cargo, bouncing against the walls and cutting corners to catch up to him. Viral and Makoto on the other hand chase after him directly.
Makoto tries to shoot the flaming rider with wind bullets while she''s chasing him. Viral shouts "we''re not trying to hurt you!" Yet in her mind, she realized how ironic that really comes across.
Makoto and Viral eventually corner the motorcyclist near the edge of the harbor, where only the sea resides. Trying to swerve past them, the motorcyclist slips through between them. Only for the rider to see a teenager come straight flying at him.
Naoki, jumping directly at the motorcyclist, calculated the angle and jumps down from a crane, going for a pro-wrestling DDT. He catches onto the rider''s neck and spirals down, making the rider fall down to the ground.
Naoki then realizes that latching onto a guy who''s on fire is a bad idea.
As the both of them fall towards the ground, Naoki rolls over and pats his cloak from the small fire on his arms. Upon the rider getting up, the three students then realize that there is no motorcycle. Rather, the motorcycle is the rider. In front of them stands a muscular Japanese spirit, sporting a tokkofuku (Bosozoku jacket) that doubled as a martial arts Gi. Fire decals embroider his long jacket, along with the illusion of large, flaming, motorcycle exhaust pipes stemming out of his arms and legs. He sports a buzz-cut.
The three of them then notice that he''s visibly bleeding.
"We''re not trying to hurt you," says Naoki.
"Tch, nice try." Responds the spirit.
The three of them notice the spirit squinting at their clothes.
The spirit then spreads his arms out as if he were riding a motorcycle. The embroidery on his jacket bursts into large flames, pouring out in front of and behind him until it forms a motorcycle. The large exhaust pipes finally elongate and solidify. He swerves around, screeching his tires.
"[Incinerate]" he announces, before radiating so much and bursting forward. Naoki jumps out of the way, and looks at a lamp post near them. He concentrates on them, and grabs ahold of it using PsychoPower. Using [Telekinesis], Naoki flicks the long lamp downwards, hoping he''d knock the rider off again.
The spirit simply burns through the metal. All three of them collectively "tsk" before chasing the biker oncemore.
"You''re not killing me today," yells the rider.
"WE''RE NOT TRYING TO," yells Makoto. "(Come to think of it... He was bleeding before we even grazed him.)"
The rider then swerves back towards the main road. While running, Naoki picks up a rock, and infuses it with ki. "(There''s no point in using my [Shakuhachi] flute with all the noise. So I''m just gonna have to calm him down like THIS-)" Using a bit of PsychoPower, he combines his ki infused brute strength along with the help of his [Telekinesis] to accurately launch the rock towards the Biker''s head.
The biker turns around for a split second, as Naoki tries to telepathically communicate with him "(Saizo is with us.)"
The biker then completely swerves around. He sits there for a couple seconds.
"Well at least that finally calmed him down a bit..." mutters Naoki.
The biker then revs up, louder and louder, aiming directly at Naoki.
The biker''s engine roars across the road.
Zooming straight towards Naoki, the biker doesn''t let up. Makoto conjures up a thick gust of wind, aiming to throw the biker off-center, only for the biker to disperse the bike mid-air, and let the small whirlwind catch on fire. Fearing that the fire might spread towards herself or the other two students, Makoto cancels the whirlwind. The biker bursts through the remains of the wind, and dropkicks Naoki. All of them can see smoke coming out of his mouth, as well as his deep red skin.
"What did you do to him."
Naoki rolls on the ground and disperses the impact. "Calm down you asshole, he''s with us we swear!"
Viral charges behind him. The biker sidesteps and tries to counter-attack, only for Viral to dash right past him. Makoto on the other hand makes a finger gun, and starts shooting pulses of air at him. He dodges most of them, before a couple of them start knocking him around. On top of all that, Naoki is pressuring him with hand to hand combat.
"We abducted him," responds Naoki.
The biker gets even more pissed.
Naoki then realizes that despite it being the truth, that still sounds really bad aloud.
Naoki throws a bunch of boxing combinations. Only for most of them to be either dodged or parried by the biker.
"(God damn this guy is annoyingly good. Is this...Karate?)" wonders Naoki. Naoki''s punch then gets parried, and receives a meaty, fiery kick to his sternum.
"(Shit,)" thinks the biker to himself. "(With her bouncing around and the other two pressuring me, I have to make things better for my fighting style.)"
Catching Naoki mid-stun, the biker then latches onto Naoki''s cloak and judo throws him over to a nearby factory.
Makoto goes up to him, expecting a counter-attack. She makes a large, thin bubble and surrounds herself with it. In her right hand, she twirls the air around it to make a small drill. "(I''m sorry Saizo, but if this asshole doesn''t let up, I have no choice.)"
The biker in response, doesn''t punch Makoto. Rather, he charges a large cluster of sparks in his hands, and uses both of his palms to fire the clusters straight at Makoto''s face.
[Shotgun]
Makoto backpedals, noticing her thin bubble ignited, and is now trying to clear the smoke out of her face.
Viral tries to intercept him once again but he dodges and sacrifices 10% of his ki to catch up to Naoki immediately.
Naoki rolls over on the floor, before using the momentum to stand back up. The biker rushes over and tries to dropkick him again, only for Naoki to sidestep and catch the biker midair, twirling him around before slamming him on the ground. "Yeah, it doesn''t feel so good now, does it?" Yells Naoki.
Stunned, the biker realizes something.
"(That... didn''t hurt...?)"
The biker looks up at Naoki. "That wasn''t infused with Ki. What are you doing?"
"Well if you just give me TWO. FUCKING. MINUTES. MAYBE I CAN TELL YOU WHAT''S GOING ON."
Makoto and Viral arrive behind Naoki. Viral stays by the door, while Makoto stands near Naoki. The biker blinks, panting.
"...Alright." Responds the Biker. His skin eventually stops becoming red, and reverts back to a bluish-grey color.
"We''re from the government. We abducted Saizo since he, as a spirit, was making noise. Viral spared his life for WHATEVER reason, and now he''s with us. He thought you could join us with the principal''s permission and he said go ahead. See? Was that so hard?"
The biker pauses, before quickly getting up. "I see, my bad. But where is Saizo? And more importantly, if that''s the case then we all need to get out of here right now."
They hear footsteps behind them. They turn around.
It''s Ken and Saizo.
There, Saizo''s life flashes before his eyes. A heavy heart, lifted. For the first time in over a week, Saizo forgets what hate is. He chokes a bit. His throat feels dry.
On the other hand, Nakayama sees his brother, in the flesh yet again. He stammers, as if seeing a ghost. Something so life-like yet... it actually is alive. He feels tears well up, but refuses to go that far. He simply stammers.
"Nakayama!" Cries Saizo out.
Nakayama gets up. His heart pounds heavily, yet the reason has changed.
Meanwhile, Ken, Naoki, and Makoto are distracted by something else. They all sensed something here. They all thought it was Nakayama since he was actively fighting, using ki and magic. Yet, now that he''s calmed down, the presence is still here. A malicious aura. A want to kill; a want to hunt. As if the entire harbor is a living, breathing, island of dread.
Makoto, Ken, Viral, and Naoki''s heart beat faster. Something''s off. They look at the door. They don''t see anybody. They look out the window. Nothing.
Something''s off.
"Why are you bleeding?" Asks Saizo. "Did they rough you up too mu-"
"Saizo, as much as I''d love to talk, we need to get out of here, NOW. There''s a group of men wearing tankto-"
KRSSHH
Time stops.
Naoki feels it.
Makoto sees it.
Ken hears it.
Viral smells it.
And unfortunate of all, Saizo tastes it.
There''s a hole in the factory''s ceiling. Slowly yet surely, the students feel the presence of four other people slowly surround them.
Nakayama is nothing more than a large blotch on the floor. A puddle of spiritual remains and liquid.
On top of those remains, is a large, muscular figure kneeling down on where Nakayama stood. Slowly standing up, the muscular figure opens his eyes and sees the prey in front of him. He''s wearing a tanktop, large puffy shorts, and a bandana that casts a shade over his eyes. Ushiyama Kito stands before them, covered in the spiritual remains of his prey.
Before anyone could completely process what just happened, A blur flows past Makoto and Naoki. They then feel a cold, large hand grasp their neck, as well as a warm whisper in their ear.
"You have three seconds to tell me what you''re doing here."
Kito then finally scans the two victims in his hands.
He looks at Makoto without much of a thought, and then turns to Naoki.
Naoki, shivering and on the verge of tears, says nothing. It takes a second before Kito finally says something.
"...Kid?"
『Chapter 26: Ogre』
Kito then finally sees the two victims in his hands.
He looks at Makoto without much of a thought, and then turns to Naoki.
Naoki, shivering and on the verge of tears, says nothing. It takes a second before Kito finally says something.
"...Kid?" Asks Kito.
"You know this guy, Naoki?" Stammers Makoto.
"Naoki, huh?" Continues Kito with a grin. "So you were lying."
Saizo stands there, paralyzed. He stares at the remains of his friend. All he can do is breathe in and out real hard. In. Then out.
Small puffs of smoke escape his nose.
Viral rockets towards Kito, aiming her spear at Kito''s back.
Kito senses her and lets go of Naoki and Makoto, sidestepping the vessel.
"Oh. Tch." Mutters Kito in an annoyed tone.
Naoki tries to run away from Kito, heading towards the exit.
There he sees Kasumi Murobuchi standing in the middle of the exit. His statuesque bodybuilding pose is as permanent as his smile. He, much like Kito, radiate the same malevolent aura.
Makoto follows Naoki and makes a finger gun, pointing at Kasumi''s head. She uses [Kaze] to form a giant pressurized bullet, and shoots it at Kasumi''s face.
The pressurized gust of wind has no effect.
Creeping out of the same door, Robert Baskerville walks in, cracking his knuckles. He looks at Naoki and doesn''t say anything. He then looks at Makoto. He visibly frowns.
Saizo can feel something inside him well. His inner being, his soul, transform. Nae, malforms into something greater; something worse. His skin becomes redder. A gust of smoke crawls out of his mouth. He emits a deep, low growl. He mutters to himself.
Viral reaches a pillar, readjusts herself, and bounces off of it. Again, she aims for Kito''s stomach.
Seeing this, Kito steps back. Viral thrusts her spear many times towards Kito stomach, face, and any place that she could at least get a graze with her spear. Kito on the other hand casually weaves through each thrust. Getting the timing down, he eventually catches the tip of the spear, and rips the spear out of Viral''s hands.
He then turns the spear around, and uses his other hand to latch on to Viral''s shoulder.
Panicking, Viral instinctively tries to use her other hand to stab Kito; her index finger serving as another syringe.
All of a sudden, a sharp pain hits her stomach.
She is too late.
For Kito''s greater strength and speed proves itself.
She feels blood coming out of her mouth.
She looks down at her stomach.
Her own spear skewers through her body.
"Mediocre." He says.
Kito hears murmuring behind him.
Saizo, with smoke inside his mouth pouring out at a rapid pace. The inside of his mouth is ablaze. His skin is the darkest red it has ever been. The straps of his backpack slowly burn off, plopping to the ground. He is chanting.
"Death of a brother
Lost yet another
The sense of grief evaporates
Muted expression
Alone again
Boiling rage
Hell on earth
Permanent hate
Man on fire."
He then finishes his incantation with a contract.
"I''ll kill you."
Saizo''s technique, [Ride or die] activates "gears" within himself. These "gears" serve as power up modes. By intaking lots of air, and combusting it within himself, Saizo''s Ki is not only boosted in terms of raw power and speed, but it also makes his body hotter. All at the cost of melting his Ki in real time. As such, the higher the gear, the stronger the effects, as well as the cost. At its peak, Saizo''s body can melt through steel like butter, and even temporarily match a Ki specialist that''s at a similar skill to him.
All at the cost of burning himself from the inside out.
Kito looks at the red gangster in front of him. He smiles. A small chuckle leaves his lips. "Hm. Interesting." He comments.
Saizo uses [BURST] to rush towards Kito. With all his might, combined with his continuous dash, Saizo swings massive, wide haymakers at Kito, aiming to bisect him any way he can; his arms acting like large, lava coated cleavers.
Kito on the other hand backtracks, ducks, and sidesteps through Saizo''s brutal offense.
Screaming relentlessly, Saizo relinquishes his accuracy, vaguely aiming in the direction the monster is at.
Kito counts under his breathe as he continues to dodge. "13,14,15..."
Eventually, one monstrous haymaker heads towards Kito''s way. Kito stops dodging, stands still, and holds his hands near the side where the haymaker is coming from.
WHAM
The sound of a loud slam echoes throughout the factory.
In an instant, Saizo sees the ceiling of the factory, and a burning sting vibrate throughout his body. He can feel the concrete underneath him melt from his body''s heat.
Kito on the other hand, examines his hand and arm.
"(20, 21, 22... as expected, shoulder throwing him burned my skin a bit.)" Thinks Kito to himself, noticing the visible burn marks on his flesh. They resemble second degree burns. And yet.
Shhhhrrrrriiiip.
Kito peels off the fresh burn, reconstructing the flesh underneath with Ki. Good as new.
He looks down at Saizo, who is gasping for air.
"25. 26. 27. Get up." Commands Kito.
Saizo, feeling the effects of [Ride or die] catch up to him, struggles to stand back up.
Yet the burning sensation of being alone in this world again, numbs his own physical pain.
As Saizo gets up, Kito takes it upon himself to look at the fight scene behind him.
Ken, showing desperation, goes hand to hand against Daiki.
"(He''s...so durable!)" Thinks Ken to himself. "(Its like he was built specifically to fight me.)"
Ken sees the 6''4", thick and squarish figure made of black spirals and swirls parry and defend against his attacks with ease. His forearms are so thick they look like shields. Where Ken would have an easy time bisecting other sorcerers limbs, Daiki''s durability naturally defended himself with ease.
All Kito sees is his student in their default body.
"Hmph." Says Kito, before continuing. "32. 33. 34."
Mustering up his strength once again, Saizo cocks his fists back. His chest audibly roars.
[Engine Gatling]
"I''M GONNA RIP YOU IN HALF." Declares Saizo.
"36. 37. 38." Responds Kito.
With great vigor, Saizo walks forward. A wall of thousand degree punches careen towards Kito.
Despite Saizo''s rate of punches being so fast it looked like a solid wall, Kito sees through each little gap in the attack. The gap in timing, dodging each punch. Through each small window of space where a punch wouldn''t be there, Kito would dodge towards. Over and over again, denying a solid hit. A couple seconds later, Kito decides to catch each punch with the palm of his hand, staying in even pace with Saizo.
"44. 45. 46."
Kito eventually switches from catching the punches, to contesting Saizo''s punches with his own fists.
Shocked, Saizo feels Kito''s solid punches clash with his own flurry of strikes. Despite going at his maximum effort, Saizo feels his hands quickly shave down to the bone.
"(It''s...it''s like I''m fighting a mirror!)" Thinks Saizo to himself. "(No...NO. I WON''T LET HIM WIN.)"
Under his breath, he makes a final declaration for the night.
"I sacrifice all of my remaining Ki for this next strike."
Saizo immediately stops his onslaught and cocks his arm back.
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Kito pauses his own clash, and tilts his eyebrow. "57. 58. 59..."
The vessel''s flesh is visibly melting. His pompadour so ruffled, it lets his long hair loose, flowing with livid liveliness. His engine shaped chest, so enlarged, so enraged, bellows out the sound of an explosion out of his mouth. His arm ablaze, cocks itself so far behind himself in exaggerated fashion. Saizo rips his finishing blow.
[V8 TORMEN-]
"60."
Right in the middle of Saizo''s brutal swing, he feels something sharp stab his chest.
Immediately, the red in his skin dissipates. Smoke leaks out of his lungs, and out in front of him. Saizo looks down. Kito''s hand, shaped like a knife, plants itself firmly inside Saizo''s chest.
The gangster looks up. He whimpers, but resists the urge to cry. All he sees is Kito''s unamused face, surrounded by the visible cloud, and stench of smog.
"You have the strength and the speed, but you''re too wild. Too impatient. Too...muddled by emotions." Explains Kito, as he drives his hand deeper inside Saizo''s lung. "And even with a clear head, I doubt you would come up with a good plan. You lack skill and intelligence. I let you enchant yourself and yet, this is all you could muster? Hmph."
Kito pulls his hand out of Saizo''s body. He looks at it.
"(...Black dried blood?)" He thinks to himself. He looks at Saizo.
"HARGH," screams Saizo, as he headbutts Kito in the face. He steps back and sees what damage he''s done to Kito, remembering that the contract is still in effect, since his last attack technically didn''t hit.
Kito stands there with a minor bruise on his nose, and blood leaking out of his nostril. Kito wipes the blood, sniffs the air, and grimaces. "And worst of all," says Kito. "I smell a damn dirty spirit near me."
Kito then latches onto Saizo''s hair and slams him to the ground. Saizo''s body splats onto the concrete. His skull is broken. His muscles are fried. He can''t move.
"Mongrel," snarls Kito in disgust.
Despite not remembering much from his past, for some reason, Saizo remembers that word very, very, vividly.
He slowly closes his eyes, and falls into a deep, deep rest.
Kito then looks back at Viral. She''s still on the ground. He notices the turquoise blood leaking out of her stomach and onto the ground. There''s a tiny trail. He stomps over to her corpse, sniffs the air, and lowers his head near the ground.
Meeting eye to eye with Viral''s face, he comments in disgust.
"I know you moved."
.
.
.
A couple minutes prior, Naoki and Makoto are blocked off by Robert and Kasumi.
"I''ll take the girl," whispers Robert to Kasumi. Kasumi keeps his pose and doesn''t say anything.
Robert runs over to Makoto. Makoto charges up an even stronger ball of pressure, and shoots it at Robert''s face. Robert uses [Deflection] to slap it away with his arms. Naoki intercepts Robert''s side by punching him in the face. Robert gets a bruise on his cheek but punches Naoki away, continuing to rush towards Makoto.
Just as Naoki was going to continue his offense on Robert, thinking that him and Makoto would work better to take one guy down, he hears a loud, rapid THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP approach him.
Naoki looks to his side.
Kasumi murobuchi, with a stiff pose, and a permanent smile, is four centimeters away from grabbing Naoki''s throat. His veiny arms and curled fingers reeking of malicious intent.
"So you want to be a statue, h-huh?" Asks Naoki.
No response.
"Then I''ll just treat you like a training dummy."
No response.
Naoki concentrates his Ki into his right fist, and hurls a mean right hook to Kasumi''s face.
Blood splatters the ground. Crimson paints Kasumi''s permanent smile.
Naoki holds his hand. He stares, seeing that a couple of his finger bones are poking out of his hand. The pain stings so hard, that it revolves back to numbness. Kasumi is still in his peripheral vision. Naoki proceeds to knee Kasumi in the balls.
No reaction; Kasumi is still.
Quivering, Naoki steps back. "Wh-what?" says Naoki in a shaky voice.
Meanwhile, Robert tries to catch up to Makoto, while assuming a boxer''s stance. Makoto swirls around, until she''s backed into a wall.
"Got you now you stupid bi-" Mutters Robert, throwing a left hook towards her face.
POP.
Robert''s hand bleeds, as he punches an invisible bubble that Makoto formed around herself. "(That bubble was hastily made... but at the same time.)"
She pressurizes a block of wind and punches Robert in the face, pushing him back.
"You were saying, asshole?" she barks back.
Robert wipes the blood off his nose. He stares into Makoto''s eyes.
"You think you''re scary?" scoffs Makoto. Using [Kaze] once again, she uses an expensive amount of magic to form three sharp claws, and commands the wind near Robert to slice his face, carotid artery, and shoulder.
Robert walks forward.
The wind slices his face, neck, and shoulder.
Yet they only leave small scratch marks on his skin. His wifebeater''s strap is barely scratched as well.
With utter confusion, Makoto yells "What?" She then swirls the wind near her hand at a rapid pace, turning it into an oversized drill. Yet again, in the background, she forms a thin bubble around herself. "Come at me!" She yells.
Robert rushes forward, leans in and rams his elbow, aiming for her stomach.
The bubble pops again.
He''s blown back, this time only a couple inches, and with a scratch against his elbow.
"You sure are a dumbass," comments Makoto, forcing her drill against Robert''s stomach, alternating the speed of the wind to such a high velocity, just to make sure it goes through him.
"I''ll say it once again." Mutters Robert.
She then notices. Her drill is having such a hard time penetrating his Ki, its sliding off to his side. As she tries to dash back, Robert catches her arm and affirms.
"I got you, you stupid bitch."
He yanks her arm and forcefully throws her towards the center of the factory, near where Kito is.
She uses [Kaze] to soften the landing. Yet, she can tell her shoulder is dislocated. Severe pain rings throughout her arm, as she stands up. She turns around, and sees Kito, crossing his arms while his foot is on Viral''s neck. The vessel is struggling, clawing at Kito''s leg, to no avail.
"Do anything stupid, I''ll kill you." Affirms Kito.
Makoto does the math in her head. If this guy is the leader of everyone, and he''s already taken down Viral and Saizo, especially in the amount of time she was fighting Robert, on top of being unable to see him when he appeared from in front of herself and Naoki, to behind, then fighting him is out of the question.
She grits her teeth. "(How pitiful.)" She thinks to herself. "(How weak. If only I were stronger, I could blow this entire place to shrapnel and dust. But for now, I don''t really have a choice. I''ll have to come up with something in the background.)"
She raises her usable arm.
Kito waits a couple seconds before snapping his fingers. "Don''t hurt them anymore. Bring them in." He calls out to his men.
Naoki, who has been keeping on eye out on Kasumi, is stuck. "(If I go to the center, the other men will kill me. But I fear if I walk out those doors, this guy will also just kill me. I can''t even hurt him. It''s most likely a condition of his ability.)"
Kasumi, standing still, eventually loosens up. His smile is gone. "Hey kid," he calls out. "Either you die here, or you walk back towards the boss. It''s your choice."
Naoki shivers and raises his arms. "What if both end up in me dying?"
Kasumi shrugs. "Not my choice, nor my problem."
Naoki keeps his arms raised and reluctantly walks back. "(I have to think of something... if I use my [Shakuhachi] flute I can probably make a tune. Either that, or Kito blitzes me on the spot. I just have to think...)"
Ken, on the other side of the factory, desperately holds Daiki off.
"(I cant directly cut him,)" thinks Ken to himself. "(So for now, I just have to make a run for it. I''m sorry guys, but calling the academy and letting them know these freaks are here is a surefire way of taking care of this. You''ll just have to survive in the meantime. You would do the same.)"
Ken stands still, lowers himself near the ground, and assumes a stance.
Daiki guards himself, waiting for an impact.
CRASH
Bara falls from the sky, making a small crater right behind Ken.
Ken cancels his stance and immediately swipes behind himself, aiming to slash Bara''s face.
Bara blocks it with his meaty hand. Ken glances at it. "(Is...that a bear claw?)" Thinks Ken to himself.
Daiki rushes in and strikes Ken in the rib, launching him to the side. Bara follows up with quick, swift steps. Ken hears the sound of clops galloping on the concrete. Ken quickly tries to get up but is soccer kicked on the ground, getting wallsplatted onto the factory wall. Bara follows up the wombo combo by slamming his meaty claw into Ken''s chest, thrashing him through the metal wall. Ken holds his chest, bleeding from the mouth and eyes. Ken tries to crawl away. Yet in hearing Bara walk behind him, he knows there''s no point, and lies there limp.
Bara drags Ken''s body near the center, along with the rest of the Ordinance students.
Naoki and Makoto stand by each other, holding their (usable) hands up. Kasumi is behind Naoki, and Robert is behind Makoto. Naoki stares at Viral, who''s neck is still being stepped on by Kito. Saizo is still unconscious, right behind Kito. And Ken is throw near Saizo; still conscious, yet very weakened, rasping for air.
Kito looks at the bag that isn''t too far from Saizo''s body. "Bara, check what''s inside." Commands Kito.
Bara opens the bag and pulls out the bottle. "...Alcohol?" Announces Bara.
Kito''s face wrinkles with disgust. "Throw it out. It has no use to us."
Kito then faces Naoki. "Now then, what is your full name?"
"Naoki Miyamoto."
"Hm." Kito steps off of Viral''s neck and walks up close to Naoki. He towers over the kid. "Alright Naoki, since we have a bit of history, I''ll let you explain. Once again, why are all of you here?"
"We arrested a spirit near here over a week ago. We made him a slave to the state. He wanted his friend to join him so we agreed to help. And then you killed him."
Kito looks confused, before looking behind himself. "Ah, the spirit, right. But tell me, why would you want to help him?"
"I''m assuming you already know we''re from the Ordinance Academy."
"Had a hunch but, thanks for confirming." Says Kito.
"Well, the government will take anyone who can do their dirty work. That''s about it."
"Right, I get that. But I''m asking you Naoki. Why would you join this mission?"
"Because..." Naoki''s voice because rasp and shaky. "I wanted to prove you wrong. I wanted to prove her wrong too." Says Naoki, motioning towards Makoto.
Kito and Makoto both raise their eyebrows.
"You both make the world seem so hopeless. But I couldn''t believe in that. I don''t want to live like some cruel, cynical person. So I wanted to test it out. Surely, if I helped someone out, it wouldn''t be so bad. And look where it got me."
Kito smiles, and chuckles a little. "Took the words right out of my mouth."
Makoto starts to speak. "And I''m assuming you''re the asshole he''s been talking to."
Kito turns to her. She continues. "I don''t know what you believe in, nor do I care. But from what you said to him, I can tell a loser like you has never been with a woman, have you?"
Kito stares at her with a blank look. He then latches on to her hair and slams her face into his knee. Blood splurts out of her nose.
"Makoto!" Cries Naoki.
Kito glances at him for a second, before making a mental note.
Makoto tries to hold her face, yet Robert grabs her wrists. His ki overpowering her own strength.
Makoto huffs before smiling. "Struck a nerve, did I?"
Kito hovers over her face. "I didn''t hit you because you insulted me. I hit you because you spoke without permission."
Kito stands back up. "Well, Naoki, you have guts. You''re admirable, but ultimately, na?ve. I don''t know who raised you but, they sure made you an idiot. And besides, why would you ever help a measly spirit? That''s stupid."
"Even if they are different, and even if they''re not the person they used to be, I believe spirits can be ''human'' too."
Kito blinks. "Naoki," he says, holding onto the kid''s face. "They think they have a personality. They think they have emotions. How could you fall for something so simple? They''re monsters."
Viral, lying in the ground hears this. With most of her ki already bled out, the only thing she can do, is lie there and accept.
"Well, whatever," continues Kito. "I''ll admit, you remind me of myself when I was a kid. And hey, I have a soft spot for the na?ve and innocent. You were raised wrong so, I can fix that. So how about this."
Kito, with his boot, scooches Saizo, Viral''s and Ken''s bodies out of the way. He claps his hands. "I''ll give you an opportunity for you to prove yourself to me." He holds his hand up. "Four minutes. You have four minutes to impress me. If you bore me, I reduce the time. Hell, I''ll even throw you an extra bone. I won''t use my techniques. What do you say?"
Kasumi backs away from Naoki. "And what if I don''t accept?" Nervously asks the kid.
Kito shrugs. "Then I kill everyone."
"O-OK OK, I accept." Frantically says Naoki. "But, what happens if I win?"
"Then you join my group, and I''ll train you to be your best self possible." Kito snaps his fingers. "Look at Daiki over there."
Naoki looks at the spiraling mass of scribbles. He''s tall, bulky, and imposing. He''s like a giant wall of muscle. His arms and legs are all as thick as tree trunks. He''s seven feet tall.
"I worked him hard to the bone and now, he''s the strongest man he can be. And he wouldn''t want it any other way, isn''t that right, Daiki?"
"Oh, you know it, boss!" Says Daiki in an enthusiastic tone.
"I can attest to that too!" Proclaims Bara in an even prouder tone.
"Me too." Casually says Kasumi.
Robert says nothing.
"See?" Says Kito. "I''ll be doing you a favor. And you''ll be doing me a favor, by being a part of my crew."
Naoki''s body weakens. He''s sees the situation, but for the sake of his teammates, knows what he has to do.
"And I can use anything in my power, right?" Asks Naoki.
"Yes. Please, do use everything in your arsenal," says Kito. His eyes twinkle.
Naoki assumes his fighting stance, and stares at Kito.
Kito crosses his arms, and smiles.
Naoki rushes forward.
『Chapter 27: Negotiating with death』
"And I can use anything in my power, right?" Asks Naoki.
"Yes. Please, do use everything in your arsenal," says Kito. His eyes twinkle.
Naoki assumes his fighting stance, and stares at Kito.
"(Should I use my flute?)" Thinks Naoki to himself. "(No, not this close. I need to get some distance between us. Granted, there''s no way I''m winning a direct fight with him. But, I have two ways of ''winning'' this. The first is to just impress him. And the other is to survive for as long as possible and gamble on his verdict. Still, I just need to do my best. Nae- do more than my best to win this.)"
Kito crosses his arms, and smirks.
Naoki rushes forward. Keeping his guard up, he aims to punch-
Kito meets Naoki in the middle of his dash, and grabs the teenager by the face. Swiftly interrupting Naoki''s weak attempt at defense, and even weaker attempt at offense, Kito lifts Naoki''s entire body. Naoki''s hat falls off while he''s getting flailed. Kito carries him midair for a full second, and slams Naoki headfirst into the concrete. A crater forms beneath the back of Naoki''s head.
"Naoki!" yells Makoto, before getting her neck yanked by Robert''s forearm.
Pitch black.
Naoki is unconscious.
COUGH
Naoki opens his eyes. He feels a migraine, as well as something heavy weigh down on his stomach. It''s Kito stepping on him.
"Wake up." Says Kito. "You wasted 30 seconds already." Kito then softly kicks Naoki''s body over.
Quickly standing back up, Naoki coughs up some blood, before wiping it off of his sleeve. The back of Naoki''s blonde head is stained red.
"(God damn it!)" Thinks Naoki thinks to himself. "(How could I get knocked out so quickly? I was saving my Ki to go all out for the last minute, but that''s clearly not going to work now)."
Naoki snarls before huffing, and dashes forward once again.
With an annoyed expression, Kito scoffs. Once again, Kito slams his hand directly on Naoki''s face.
Yet Kito feels something odd. "(His weight... he''s light?)" Thinks Kito.
In midair, Naoki willingly lets Kito take his face, while the rest of his body coils around Kito''s arm.
Seeing an immediate answer for this, Kito slams Naoki to the ground. Naoki, already being experienced with this type of counter from years of grappling, tries his best to angle himself so that a majority of his shoulder takes the brunt of the damage instead of his head. He focuses his ki into his upper body and head so that he doesn''t get knocked out again.
"(Come on pull...PULL.)" Thinks Naoki, arching back while pinching his legs as hard possible. Every time Kito slams his arm down to the concrete, Naoki switches his ki to focus on defending his upper body, before reverting a majority of his ki throughout his body to break Kito''s arm.
Seeing this, Kito feels his arm slowly yet surely outstretch, and bend backwards. He stops slamming Naoki, and proceeds to use his other hand to snatch onto Naoki''s shin.
Immediately panicking, Naoki feels his shin slowly crumple. Like a hydraulic press that''s caught onto his bone.
Struggling, screaming, Naoki musters all his force to break Kito''s arm.
"(NO. NOT NOW. NOT NOW. NOT NOW. I''LL SACRIFICE MY LEG FOR YOUR ARM.)"
Like the sound of a tree breaking in half, something loud SNAPS.
For a second, Makoto''s hard, beating heart calms down for a second.
Kito''s men look surprised.
Naoki uses his other leg to kick himself off of Kito''s face and vice grip, and rolls backwards. Before continuing his offense, Naoki notices.
Kito is just standing there. A blank expression covers his face.
Kito, stares at his arm, bent backwards at an 83 degree angle. He blinks.
"(I need to be careful, I can''t rush in. For now, I''ll take whatever couple seconds I can get to breathe and force my muscles to close the wound on my leg.)" Thinks Naoki to himself. "(But perhaps, I can set something up.)" Naoki begins to chant underneath his breath, multitasking while he stares at Kito.
"Tainted soul."
Kito simply stands, before his arm''s muscles begin to move themselves. From an outside perspective, Kito''s muscles twitch and move like gelatin. Like a conveyer belt, or a bunch of men rowing a boat, or a line of men passing one bucket of water to another. Quickly, carefully, Kito''s muscles alone force the arm to bend back to its former state. Tugging and tugging; pulling and pulling. Everyone hears a loud crack as Kito''s arm is reset back to place. He bends it for a bit, making sure its back to normal.
"Ugly heart."
Kito crosses his arms.
"Next."
Naoki murmurs under his breathe, staring in awe. "Death of an ogre..."
Kito wrinkles his nose.
Naoki tries to finish; "I''ll beat yo-"
[BURST]ing forward, Kito covers Naoki''s mouth, before clutching onto it.
"Just because I''m handicapping myself, doesn''t mean I''ll go easy on you." Whispers Kito.
With his one hand, Kito proceeds to carry Naoki''s entire body once again. Twirling around, Kito lets go of Naoki and hurls him at a wall like a frisbee. However, Naoki rolls in midair, and lands in a crouching position against the wall, instead of splatting against it. Naoki looks up. Kito leaps forward, doing a jumping knee at mach speed, aimed directly at Naoki. Naoki overtunes his ki, blocks his chest and face with his arms and braces for impact.
Both of them explode out of the other side of the wall, back near the cargo field. Naoki''s left forearm is dented, bruised, and slightly bent backwards. It is numb. He can barely control it anymore. His right arm isn''t fairing too well either. Blood oozes down the back of his head, upper back, and arms. Yet he keeps his kickboxing style guard up.
Kito pops out of the dust, throwing simple boxing combinations. Naoki dodges a jab and a straight, before getting mollywhopped with a left hook. However, Naoki uses the momentum of the attack and swivels around, doing a muay thai style spinning back elbow towards Kito''s face.
The elbow catches Kito off-guard, as it makes a small cut above his eyebrow. The blood drips down to his eye, causing his vision to blur for a bit. "Cute," he comments, before regenerating the cut while shooting a right hook to the back of Naoki''s left kidney. Naoki screams, but ducks out of muscle memory, unintentionally dodging Kito''s incoming left hook to the face. Naoki rises once again with an uppercut, hook, straight setup. Kito pats all of them away with ease. Finishing the combo, Naoki kicks Kito''s calf. The teenager recoils, as if a normal human were kicking a steel beam. Kito on the other hand, with a clearly more experienced Muay Thai style guard, checks the kick, and counters by kicking the side of Naoki''s kneecap.
Naoki''s leg buckles. He guards his face with his arms, bracing for a strike to the head. "You''re boring me." Says Kito. "I''m reducing one minute." Naoki instead gets uppercutted in the stomach, sending him flying up in the air.
Kito bounces from the side of a cargo in an attempt to catch Naoki''s body midair.
Naoki, forcing a maximum output of his psychopower, uses [Telekinesis] to grab and pull himself up in the air. Kito initially misses his grab, before jumping in midair. Kito activates the ki in his feet to forcefully "step" on the air molecules, for split seconds, bouncing in midair, eventually kicking Naoki down to ground.
Naoki careens down and frantically scurries back to the center of the factory where everyone else is.
"(It''s now or never!)" Thinks Naoki to himself, whipping his [Shakuhachi] flute out.
He readies it near his lips. He tries to blow a note.
No sound comes out.
Kito, too fast to be kept up with, already appears in front of Naoki. He plugs his pointer finger into the end of the flute''s hole.
"Checkmate." Calmly says Kito.
Naoki stares at the ogre in front of him. Kito wears a blank expression. Naoki, bloodied and battered, closes his eyes, and calmly accepts what will happen to him.
"(Well. It doesn''t hurt to try.)" thinks Naoki to himself.
Using all of his force, Naoki proceeds to blow into his flute as much as possible, while kicking Kito''s rib. Kito barely budges a millimeter backwards.
However.
A millimeter is all that Naoki needs.
Getting pushed backwards, Kito''s finger lets a small gap of air escape through the end of Naoki''s flute.
Naoki''s [Shakuhachi] flute is a tool that amplifies Naoki''s ability. It translates Naoki''s PsychoPower ability, [Psionic Haze] into soundwaves. Instead of concentrating within one''s mind, the flute reduces the workload. However, this is if the ability is used. Otherwise, the flute is just an amplifier.
And an amplified flute, is loud.
PWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
VOLUME WARNING: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0UhoyxMmwH4
With just that tiny gap in the opening, all of Naoki''s lung power produces an ear piercing screech akin to a sonar ping.
Kito''s hand instantly explodes, even forming a small tear down the middle of his forearm. Everyone in the factory falls to the ground, covering their ears. Typically, nobody is affected by their own technique. However, since Naoki blew the flute without his technique, he is still affected by the reverberating noise. If it weren''t for the fact that everyone has at least some sort of ki for defense, everyone would have at best, gone deaf, or at worst, die.
Stunned for only half a second, Kito, looking pissed, is the first to recover out of everyone. Regenerating his hand in a second, he cocks his fist back. Naoki focuses all of his remaining ki into his face, and tries to block with his arms.
Stolen story; please report.
His arms do not block in time.
Nailing him in the eye, Kito punches Naoki back to the opposite end of the factory''s wall.
Naoki splats against the wall before sliding down. He coughs up blood, knowing full well that his Ki is shaved down to its last embers. Most of his body feels numb. And whatever isn''t numb, stings with agonizing pain. He feels something wet go down his cheek. His breathing gets haggard. "(A tear?)" He thinks to himself. He touches it; its thick, squishy and oily. In disbelief, he starts to panic. "(No...blood?)" He tries to open his eyes, yet only one of them opens. Its white and clear. He finally realizes.
"(My eye! He popped my eye!)"
Frantically shaking, Naoki tries to stand up. "(Come on... come on, steel yourself!)" Commands Naoki to his body. And yet. No matter what amount of body control he thought he had before, and no matter what amount of mental training he endured, none of it seemed to matter.
Naoki stands and quivers in shock. Kito walks over to him. Naoki simply stands. Too scared to move. Too paralyzed to talk. He simply stares at the ogre in front of him.
Kito, with a slightly annoyed face, grabs Naoki by the throat. He lifts the kid up. "3. 2. 1. Time is up." Naoki limply hangs from Kito''s grasp.
Kito walks back to the center. Makoto tears up a bit, but for as sad as she is for Naoki, feels an overwhelming amount of anger within herself. Fortunately, this just seemed to be the perfect place to be captured. For just like she did a couple months ago, she was concentrating air on a bigger scale. Slowly yet surely, the air feels off.
Kito drops Naoki on the floor. Naoki, on his knees, looks at Kito with immense sadness and fear.
"Now... you''re not bad kid. Not at all." Says Kito. "And you''d expect me to say that you''re brimming with potential. But."
Naoki''s heart sinks. He simply stares at the ground.
"You''re not." Continues Kito. "There''s some things here and there that surprised me, which is a good thing. And your form was...alright. But unfortunately, for someone who has years of experience in the tripower system, I expected more. Granted, having one more person in my crew would help regardless but, even if you join, you might hinder us on purpose. I''m sorry."
Kito kneels down to Naoki''s level, looks him in the eye with a sullen face. Kito''s eyes shimmer, as a particular, diamond pattern shapes his iris. "Are there any last words you would like to say?" Asks Kito.
Silence. Naoki hammers the ground with his fist. A tear falls down his cheek. Gargled grunts escape his lips, before going quiet again. For a minute straight, Naoki contemplates his life.
Silence.
Eventually, his reddened eyes stare back at Kito''s genuine eyes.
"You said you were a politician, right?" Asks Naoki with a deep, raspy voice.
Kito is taken aback. "Are you sure you want those to be your last words?"
"Don''t play dumb with me." Naoki''s fingers curl on the ground; each fingertip drags blood. "I want to make a deal."
Makoto looks surprised. All of Kito''s men look with confusion. Kito narrows his eyes. "You''re playing a dangerous gamble, Naoki. What you say next dictates whether you die peacefully or brutally. What are you proposing?" Demands Kito.
"You said you were aiming to become mayor?" Asks Naoki.
"Correct."
"And the voting process has started, right?"
"Yes."
Naoki, with an angered scowl, points at himself with his thumb. "Me." He then points at Makoto. "Her." And then to the unconscious vessels. "Them. Five people. Five votes. If you spare us, I swear on my life, that we will all vote for you. The easiest, most secured votes you could ever want."
Kito looks blankly. He then looks down.
"(He''s...he''s right. The one ahead of me in the race is winning by two votes.)" He grinds his teeth, and remembers what he said the other day. "(My competitors and I are off by mere single digits numbers...A group of friends get to decide who gets to be mayor. It''s too close for comfort...This is such an easy opportunity. But something''s off.)" Kito looks at his victims. "That''s not true. You can only make contracts with yourself and the person you''re dealing with. You can''t drag other people into it without their consent."
"I have a way." Says Naoki.
Makoto''s face freezes.
"What are you planning?" Asks Kito.
"On my life, I will do everything in my power to force those vessels to vote for you." Says Naoki. "Us students act as officers overlooking the vessels. If they do anything that the school sees as unfit, two things can happen. Either the contract that they agreed to purges their soul, or we report them. Through that system, I can report the vessels to the higher ups, and the higher ups can update the contract to do as I say. Hence, I''ll make them vote for you."
Kito looks semi-surprised. "You would do that? You... of all people... I''m inclined to not believe you."
"My life is on the line. Desperate times call for desperate measure, and I''d rather not fuck this up."
Kito cracks a genuine smile, in awe of the kid he perceived to influence. "Aye. You learn well. However." Kito bites his thumb. "The spirits aren''t real people. How would they have citizenship to vote?"
"The government can make things work. Trust me, they would much rather trade in a vote for you to keep one of their soldiers."
Kito keeps on biting his thumb, pondering. "What about her?" Asks Kito, pointing towards Makoto.
"She''s allowed to make whatever choice she wants."
Kito turns to her.
"I''ll accept the same contract as Naoki, as well as go along with his plan." Says Makoto.
Kito continues to bite his thumb. "Robert, what time is it?" Asks Kito.
Robert checks his phone. "11:49 PM"
Kito finally claps his hand. "Good enough." He turns to Robert. "Let the girl go. You. Stand right next to Naoki," commands Kito.
Robert lets go of Makoto; she walks over right next to Naoki. Naoki also stands up. Both of them are extremely stiff.
"Alright well, lets go over the contract. I, Ushiyama Kito, as well as my men, will spare all five of your lives, as long as you two:
1. Promise to do everything in your power to make those vessels vote for me.
2. You two vote me for mayor."
"That''s the contract, yes." Says Naoki.
"I want to add another condition," says Kito.
Both Naoki and Makoto look at him. Their hearts beat louder.
"I will only spare the five of your lives tonight. Tonight under the definition of ''before midnight.'' Otherwise, the deal is off."
Naoki sweats nervously, but knows that he nor Makoto don''t really have a choice.
"Deal." Says both of the students. Makoto and Naoki both shake Kito''s hands.
"Alright then. One last thing, Naoki." Kito walks up to Naoki with a kind smile, and crouches to his level. He ruffles Naoki''s hair. "Tonight''s lesson, is mercy."
Kito then grabs onto Naoki''s hair, imbues his other fist with ki, and proceeds to slam his fist into Naoki''s gut. Naoki curls up on the ground, on the verge of vomiting. Kito latches onto Naoki''s hair again, and whispers in his ear. "Mercy is a valuable thing; mercy is strength. All of you are still alive because of me. Remember that."
Kito lets go, before looking at Makoto.
Makoto''s face is shadowed. Her eyes beam with vigor. Her fingers curl, itching to pull the trigger. One release. One release, and the entire factory blows up. All to hurt this fucker.
Kito''s smile evaporates into a stern expression. He stares at Makoto.
"Do it."
Makoto''s heart stops. "What?"
"Your heart is loud. Your cells tell your intent. Go ahead. Do it. You only have a couple of minutes to get away with it."
"And then what?"
"You''ll find out." He says, staring into her soul.
Makoto grits her teeth. But ultimately she knew, he was right.
Detonating the factory would not only harm, if not kill Kito''s men, but also Saizo, Ken, Viral, and most likely Naoki too. Not to mention, judging by what she just saw, it wouldn''t be enough to kill Kito. Not now. Not yet.
She grits her teeth so hard, her gums start bleeding. She eventually unleashes her anger by punching herself. Pathetic. Weak. Inadequate. Failure.
Kito simply stares. His face so confused, he can''t make a cohesive thought about it.
She eventually stops, looks away, and picks up Naoki. "Let''s go. We don''t have much time."
Naoki picks up Viral and her spear, while Makoto uses [Kaze] to pick Ken and Saizo''s limp bodies up.
Exiting out the factory, they use whatever remaining power they have to rush back towards the Ordinance Academy.
.
.
.
A couple minutes pass. It''s past midnight. All of the men stand around.
"Pick up the backpack and alcohol, and toss in a dumpster far away from here. Make sure to not touch any of the debris. We don''t want any finger prints on anything." Commands Kito.
"Its past midnight. Are we going to chase them down?" Asks Robert, folding his arms.
Kito sits criss-cross on the floor and smiles. "No. The reason I added the condition of ''only before midnight will they be spared'' is so that my end of the deal ends tonight. Thus, after they''ve all voted for me, I face no penalty for killing them since I already filled my end of the deal.
That being said, we still have plenty of things to discuss. For starters, someone tried to assassinate me this morning and got away. And with this situation, this confirms our presence to the Ordinance Academy. Now for this second time, obviously I want my votes, but looking at it on a bigger picture, we''re running the same gamble yet again. Now with even bigger evidence that we spared them, they might throw the same level of fodder against us again. But I''m not holding my breath for that. So toughen up boys. I fear they''ll bring out the real agents soon. Furthermore, since we''re up against the government, they''ll use whatever means necessary to take us down. I don''t know when, but just in case and as soon as possible, grab as much cash from your banks."
All of the men look worried.
"What''s your reasoning, boss? What''s gonna happen to us?" Asks Bara.
"This is the government we''re talking about. If they know me, and you by association, they''re going to make our lives as impractical as possible. I predict they''ll freeze our assets, take our homes, anything that''s under their control, they''ll take back."
All of them look visibly worried.
Kito chuckles. "I say this, however, do not lose hope. Steel yourselves, men. They might have the power of legality, but much like money, the power they have is as strong as you think it is."
Daiki looks up. "What do you mean?"
"They have might in men. But do remind me, who would win? The officer in front of your door? Or you."
All of them brim with ease. A slight malicious aura builds up in the room.
"It''s going to be a long race, men. Be prepared." Hisses Kito.
Kito calms down for a sec, before continuing. "Now then, I hope you all have been taking notes. Tell me, what are each of their abilities. Daiki, you start us off."
"The spirit I fought had a tangible body. Blades sprout out of his body. Also, anytime he hit me, even though I blocked it, it still felt weird. My mind got fuzzy, I felt little less like myself, and even though I blocked most of the ki, some of it still penetrated through."
Kito sucks some air in. "Damn. It would''ve been useful if I got to fight him. Anyway, you, Bara?"
"I didn''t have enough time to fight him, but more or less the one strike he got on me, its basically the same I felt as Daiki."
"I see... How about you, Kasumi?"
"I fought Naoki. I think you already know how he fights compared to me. But I don''t think he figured out my technique."
"Fair enough. Lastly, you, Robert?"
"The bitch uses wind magic. She''s very proficient, but she doesn''t know my technique so I won that easily."
Kito makes a mental note. "(So my suspicion was right. I could feel the air in the factory feel different the longer she was in captivity. Good thing my bluff worked, or else she would''ve destroyed everything.)"
"The girl with spear is a walking- er rather, running gimmick. I can assume she injects people with poison. I don''t know what type, but be best assured, just don''t get hit. She''s fast but she''s linear. The pompadour freak on the other hand is strong, but an idiot. He uses an inferior technique. Destroy the lungs."
Kito pauses, before continuing. "These spirits... they''re getting stronger. To use a corpse as a normal body. Disgusting. But effective. They had me fooled." Chuckles Kito. "If it weren''t for them confirming that they were spirits, I would''ve gladly asked them to join us. But as you already know, we can''t let those monsters roam the streets. That being said, I''m glad I paid more attention to the boy rather than killing the spirits right then and there. Now I can assure an extra three free votes. See boys? That''s the power of mercy." Says Kito with a smile.
Bara loudly cheers for Kito. The others smile and holler, except for Robert.
"Now that we know what we''re working with, and they don''t, we''re still ahead. Knowledge is power, after all. We did good today, but the future is rough. Never let up. The moment we let our guard down is the moment we all die. Remember, passivity is inaction-"
"Inaction is stagnation. Stagnation is death." Chants Daiki, Kasumi, and Bara.
Kito smiles. "Very good."
He then looks up at the hole in the ceiling. He stares at the moon. He feels the moon stare back.
"(I wonder.)" Thinks Kito to himself. "(Is that girl Naoki''s sister? No... It can''t be. They look nothing alike. Yet, they both seem to care for each other a lot. Hm.)"
.
.
.
Meanwhile at the Ordinance Academy, Naoki and Makoto frantically burst into Gretchen''s office. Caught off guard, Gretchen hurriedly helps Naoki and Makoto drag all of the bodies into vats. Both of the students call the principal, and explain the situation to Principal Hanayama and Gretchen.
Hanayama, wearing a business suit stands in front of the students. Both of the students are in unfilled vats. Hanayama shakes his head. He has plenty of thoughts in his head, but can''t decide where to start. "You all should be dead. It''s a good thing you aren''t but, how you went about things tonight is too risky."
"I didn''t have a choice," says Naoki.
"I understand that. And for the circumstance, it was fine. But this muddles a lot of things. I''ll see what I can do to hinder Kito''s process in the race, but for now, you all need to take a rest. You all have a busy morning tomorrow." Hanayama sighs. "I just hope Mishima doesn''t know about Kito first."
"Why is that?" Asks Makoto.
Hanayama shakes his head. "We''re all on the side, but that doesn''t mean we have the same ideals." His eye twitches. "And sometimes, our allies can be more of a hinderance than our enemies." He softens up and looks at both of them. "Its politics. Worry about it when you''re older. Goodnight."
Footsteps careen down the hall. Naota bursts through the door. He sees Naoki in a brutalized state. He rushes over and hugs him. He clutches Naoki''s head to his chest. He wants to say a lot of things, but can''t muster up anything. He kisses Naoki''s head and says "Goodnight."
Naoki looks at Naota''s eyes. Naoki''s heart skips a beat.
Red.
Naota eventually leaves.
Gretchen fills Naoki and Makoto''s vats up.
Pitch black, drowning in breathable, green sludge. Both of them in fetal position within their own cells. Yet Naoki calls to Makoto through telepathy.
"Makoto."
"I''m listening."
"I''m scared."
"We''re all scared."
"I didn''t want to drag them into this. I didn''t want any of this to happen."
"It''s alright. It''s the nature of the situation. I''m sure they''ll understand."
"It''s not their perception of me that I care about. I just didn''t want to hurt anyone. I fear that Kito may be right. I tried to prove him wrong by being a good person. And now we''re all in danger."
Makoto doesn''t say anything for a while.
"That''s life." Is the only thing she could muster.
"Life sucks. I hate this."
"We all do."
"I wish nobody had to go through this. I wish I was never born."
"Don''t say that."
"To hell with suffering and growth. To hell with it all. To brag about strength and mercy. To care for it at all. It''s all pointless. Material creatures aware of their nature. That''s the flaw within our system. We''re so smart, we''re aware of concepts we''re not supposed to know or care for. Care too much, you inadvertently hurt others. Care too little, you willingly hurt others. Animals. Animals."
Naoki clutches onto his legs even tighter.
Makoto wants to hold him close.
But knows she can''t.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sTmJz14RwA8
END OF THE BEGINNING.
『Chapter 28: Intermission 1: Night at the casino』
Meanwhile, hours before the mission at the docks
11 PM
At The Underground, in the casino section.
Bright lights illuminate the area. Neon signs and bars are located in every corner.
Several people wearing vests and other professional work attire push carts and offer drinks. Other similarly attired workers wear a blue armband, signifying they''re security. Despite everyone already being unable to use any abilities without permission, the security serve to just oversee that no cheating is done.
Various slot machines ring and boom with loud and obnoxious sound effects. Whoops and hollers erupt from people getting multipliers from slots. Others desperately scratch and rub the screen to heighten the chances of getting several symbols in a row. The tables on the other hand play the typical card and dice games.
Edward, Jordy, and Chad all enter the section.
Jordy is wearing a black bandana on his head, though tied in a way that lets his hair flow out of the back of the bandana, a red hoodie, jeans, and stylish sneakers. Edward is wearing his typical regal coat, though opened up to reveal the dress shirt underneath it, as well as dress pants and shoes. Chad on the hand only wears his triangular sunglasses, his tanktop, jeans, and boots.
"TO THE CASINO!" Cheer both Edward and Jordy. Chad on the other hand folds his arms.
As they say that, the three of them immediately rendezvous to a nearby bar.
A cute woman with orange hair greets them. She''s wearing the typical outfits of the casino servers.
"What can I get for you guys?" Asks the lady.
"Yeah can we get the bartender?" Asks Edward.
"I am the bartender."
"Oh- cool. Anyway, I''d like a glass of champagne."
"What kind?" She asks, handing a menu to Edward.
Edward politely declines. "I''ll take a glass of your most expensive champagne, thank you."
"Ok!" Says the lady before turning around to the computer kiosk. "(You could''ve said that from the beginning, prick.)" She thinks to herself.
"That''ll be $83.49, please."
Edward, with stifled irk expression, smiles and hands her a hundred dollar bill.
The lady cashes him out and prints out the reciept. Jordy and Chad both look at him.
"Now, now," says Edward. "This is good, actually."
As the woman pours the devil''s wine into the glass, he turns towards both of them. "This sets up a goal for me to overcome. My goal tonight is to win $83.49. Because if I just came in here to win, I could technically spin a slot machine once, get $2, and then be done since I technically won more than what I came in with. But where''s the fun in that?"
The woman hands Edward the glass and his receipt. He writes his name, and tips $2.
"You''re only tipping her that much?" Whispers Jordy, turned around.
"WOAH NIGGA, you think I''m made out of money?" Says Edward.
Jordy with his mouth open turns to Chad. Chad doesn''t say anything and just shrugs.
"Besides, I think opening a bottle up and pouring it into a glass isn''t that hard. It''s not like she distilled the bottle herself. She''s not BREAKING her back over it. Calm down. Lol."
Jordy goes quiet before saying "I mean, sure. I guess you have a point." He then turns to the lady. The lady picks up the receipt and tries to stifle her annoyed expression. "And what can I get for you?" She asks.
"Do you guys have any ciders?" Asks Jordy.
"We have Apple, blackberry, and blueberry."
"I''llllll taaaaake.... blueberry."
"$8.95, please."
"Ay wey-" says Jordy, as his eyes widen for a split second.
"I''m sorry?" Says the lady.
"No, sorry, don''t worry about it." Jordy rolls his eyes. (Well, it''s only one beer for the night so, its not that bad.) He thinks to himself, rummaging for his wallet.
He pays the lady and tips a $1.50.
Edward raises his eyebrow. "And yet you''re tipping less than me."
"General rule for tipping is a dollar for every 5 bucks." Simply comments Jordy.
Edward rolls his eyes.
"Anything for you?" Finally asks the woman towards Chad.
"Water, please."
He gets a glass of water.
They go towards the roulette table. While walking, both Edward and Jordy sip on their drinks. They both forcefully make pleased faces.
"What does your drink taste like?" Asks Jordy.
"Overpriced, overcarbonated, mid, white wine. What does your taste like?"
"Ass. It tastes like ass."
They arrive at the table. A man in his 20s wearing the typical casino outfit is the dealer. He''s wearing a bag over his head with eye holes in them. A couple people are already playing.
"Are you guys playing?" Asks the dealer.
"Just us two." Says Jordy, pointing towards himself and Edward.
"Are you with them?" Asks the dealer towards Chad.
"Yes."
"You gotta do the contract with them. Them''s the rules."
Chad rolls his eyes. The three of them raise their hands.
"I promise to not enact any type of ability or cheating on this table." Says the dealer.
Edward rolls his eyes. "(Well its not like you can really cheat at roulette. If anything the casino is the one cheating. But that goes without saying cuz DUH. What a retarded contract.)"
"I agree." The three of them say.
"Place your bets please." Starts the dealer.
People rummage and quickly put their chips on the table. Jordy and Edward exchange $20 into chips. The sign next to them says the lowest bid is $3 and the maximum is $2000.
Jordy ponders for a bit. "Got any ideas, Chad?" Asks Jordy.
"I mean for starters we could turn around and save your money."
"...or?"
"Or play a different game with higher odds like blackjack. But its up to you. I don''t want to rain on your guys'' parade. Now remember, you can put 2 dollars worth of chips into a solid color, and then one dollar on green. So that if you win on the solid color, you make $4 while insuring in the low chance that it hits green. And if you win green, you win a lot more. It''s the safest bet."
"I see," says Jordy. He then turns to Edward.
Edward raises his glass.
"PUT ''ER ALL ON RED."
Others at the table cheer. Jordy chuckles and puts it all on red.
Amount bet: $20 each
Chad quietly stammers. "No that''s- but- ??"
"No more bets please." Announces the dealer.
They watch the ball spin, round and round.
.
..
...
Red!
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
"LETS GO," shout the both of them.
Chad chuckles.
"Now Jordy," starts Chad. "You already made double of what you put in. I think that''s good enough for tonight."
Jordy turns to Edward. He''s chugging his champagne. He then turns to Jordy, shakes his head, and shrugs.
"Pft.
-PUT ''ER ALL ON BLACK."
"You heard him" says Jordy.
Chad doesn''t say anything.
Amount bet: $40 each
"No more bets please." Announces the dealer.
They watch the ball spin, round and round.
.
..
...
Black!
Edward''s eyes light up. He grins eagerly. He finishes his glass. "More." He growls.
Jordy laughs it off.
"Red." says Edward.
Jordy does so as well. Jordy takes his second sip of his beer.
Of Vice and Sin
Living to the fullest
It''s what makes life worthwhile
Behest:
CONSUME
Edward calls over a worker with a cart.
"Can I help you sir?" Asks the worker. She''s wearing the typical uniform. She has black short hair and blue highlights.
"Yeah, gimme a light will ya?" Commands Edward, whipping out a cigar from his pocket.
The worker rolls her eyes. Technically, they don''t need to, nor are supposed to do anything aside from giving general directions and handing out drinks. But she does so regardless.
"Thanks honey," he says, while giving her $5.
She scrunches her nose but takes the tip anyway. She leaves.
Jordy turns to Chad and whispers. "Hey uh, didn''t you say he used to be a priest?"
"I mean that''s all he''s said before. We don''t know anything other than that."
"Uh huh..." Says Jordy, taking another sip.
Amount bet: $80 each
"No more bets please." Announces the dealer.
They watch the ball spin, round and round.
.
..
...
Red!
Edward quickly runs over to the bar. Jordy takes a piss break.
Chad takes the scenery in. All these people willingly burning their money. All these people who have lost the value of what the dollar holds. What dictates life; how it dictates life. One would assume those free from the definition of "poor" would have no qualms going to the casino. And yet, people of the opposite camp dwell around here too. Desperate people who can''t get enough from hard work and thus decide its a good idea to take a chance at the spin. Or even those who took the optional step prior, and decided to take a loan from the wrong crowd for one reason or another. Spin, spin, spin to win. Surely, one of these spins will grant financial freedom. Not even the jackpot nae. Freedom from their financial burden. Spin. Spin. Spin. The hypnotizing swirl spirals into black, red, and green.
Chad frowns.
Yet he''s reminded of his friends.
Everyone has flaws. He hates to see the things his friends do. Yet he still wants to be friends with them.
"(What is this?)" Thinks Chad to himself. "(Do my friends think of me the same way I think of them? Am I flawed? Surely I am but...how? What is it that I''m doing wrong? Jordy was just a stranger not so long ago. And yet, I''m caring for him so much already. Now that I think about it, even if it was a years ago, Solomon was the same way. We were strangers, and now he''s like a brother to me.)"
Chad shakes his head. It makes no sense. But surely if its introspection, then it must be honest.
Jordy and Edward come back. Jordy still holds his bottle, while Edward has the most stiff face possible. Yet his walking pattern is the opposite of "stiff." Edward still holds his cigar, as well as a new champagne glass.
Chad looks at Jordy and squints. "You took the bottle with you to the bathroom?"
"Tch, yeah? Where else would it go?" chuckles Jordy.
"I could''ve held it for... nevermind."
Jordy turns to Edward. "You got another glass?"
"Not just that. I took two shots of whisky. You can barely even tell. Hey, did you know that bourbon tastes like ass? I sure didn''t."
"Yeah not a fan of whisky," forcefully chuckles Jordy before whispering to Chad. "Hey can you tell your friend to slow down a bit? I''m a little worried for him."
"Don''t worry, he gets like this sometimes. If he drinks one more I''ll tell him to quit. But at the same time, its his responsibility to take care of himself."
And thus, the process repeats yet again.
Jordy decides that following Edward''s gambling instinct has worked so far so might as well continue.
And thus, $80 turn to $160. $160 turn to $320.
Red!
Black!
They reach $1,280. One more bet until they can no longer bet on this table. Jordy can barely contain himself from jumping up and down. Edward eagerly looks at the next table, practically salivating the upper limit. "Mine." He mutters.
"Place your bets please."
Jordy and Edward proceed: all on black.
Amount bet: $1,280 Jordy / $1,152.51 Edward
"No more bets please." Announces the dealer.
They watch the ball spin, round and round.
Edward clutches onto his glass. He steels himself, trying not to spill even more $80 champagne. Jordy curls his toes before turning around. "I can''t look!"
Chad, noticing the trajectory, simply sighs and shakes his head.
.
..
...
Green!
"..."
"..."
"..."
Edward feels something. He checks his heart. "(Did I get shot?)"
He looks at his dress shirt. No blood. He opens the button up. No blood. No. Nononono. He looks at the dealer, taking away his chips.
Edward sets his glass on a cupholder and looks underneath the table. His eyes dart around, only seeing the legs of the table, as well as the legs of the other patrons. "What did you do, huh?" He asks the dealer.
The dealer and the other players all look at him. "I beg your pardon?" Asks the dealer.
"What is this, huh? Did you use a magnet? I bet its a fucking magnet I just know," barks Edward.
Jordy gently pulls Edward''s shoulder to the side. "Hey man, calm down."
"Get off me you-" Edward shakes himself off of Jordy''s grasp.
The dealer picks up the ball. "It''s made of plastic." He puts the ball down and continues his business.
Jordy looks at him, before looking at Chad. Chad simply says "I think we should take a break."
Jordy then continues. "Well... I think I can''t get mad. Like yeah of course I''m annoyed but, at the end of the day, it was my decision to play in the first place. And besides, I only really lost like 20 bucks. Plus an overpriced beer. I could win that back at work in no time. We had fun, and that''s all that matters." He smiles.
Chad is pleased that at least Jordy got something out of it.
Slouching, Edward, finishes his glass, and looks at them.
"The fuck are you talking about? Come on, lets go to the ATM."
"I''m good." Abruptly says Jordy.
"Suit yourself. I''m not leaving out of here a loser."
Jordy takes a split second to think whether he was inadvertently calling Jordy a loser, or feeling salty about the loss. He then takes another split second to realize that he doesn''t really care.
They can hear him mutter about there being a magnetic ball in the inside.
Chad and Jordy shake their heads. "Let''s just sit down for now. My head hurts." Says Jordy.
They''re quiet for a little bit, before Chad breaks the ice.
"Y''know Jordy, I want to thank you."
"Hm? What''s up?"
"I want to thank you for being my friend."
Jordy cackles. "Ain''t no way this white boy is acting all sappy with me right now."
"I''m serious."
"Ahah, alright. I mean, you''re welcome I guess? You''re a pretty chill dude yourself."
"No but lately, ever since I started hanging out with you I started learning more and more."
"Uhh... uhuh?"
"These people all around us. I''m starting to think they have souls."
"...Eh heh...yeah?" Jordy puts the beer on his lips. He takes a bigger swig than usual.
"We''re not that close but, I started to realize the way that relationships form. How a stranger on the street isn''t some faceless animal rather, a person like you and me. It''s alien."
Jordy goes quiet.
"My family is uh... well we run things... they''re gone. And it''s really hard, but if I try hard enough, I think I can slowly start to piece together how things work between people. It''s like I''m rediscovering it. But that only makes me remember... all these years. The possibility that what I might have-"
Jordy grips on to Chad''s shoulder. He looks into Chad''s eyes; past what those triangular glasses hide.
"If you think it''s something your friend won''t like, you probably shouldn''t say it. Just a warning."
Chad looks at the ground. "You''re right...but wouldn''t that be lying?"
Jordy pauses before answering. "I understand what you mean. But everyone has limits. What you''re doing is called oversharing. Sharing is good. But if its something serious, it really depends what happens next. A good thing is that a friend may help you out. But if its something bad that you did well... that''ll decide what happens next. Typically, they won''t be friends with you anymore. But I feel like that''s the tip of the iceberg. The real aftermath is what you should worry about. But surely, its not that deep, right?"
Chad goes silent.
"...yeah."
Jordy takes a big swig and finishes his beer. Chad notices that Jordy''s hand is shaking.
Edward eventually comes back to them.
"Hey Chad," hiccups Edward.
"(Oh no.)" Think both Chad and Jordy.
"Yeah what''s up?"
"Turns out they don''t have a fuckin...ATM here because its all fuckin cash or something. Can I have the keys to the truck?"
Jordy and Chad both exchange the same look.
"I don''t think you''re in the condition to be driving," says Chad.
"Nah man, look. I''ve been training on my Ki, y''see?"
"...Not really."
"Well, its because there''s a fuckin contract on all of us that restricts us from using Ki in the The Underground but like... if I''m back on Earth, and I use my Ki on my senses, then I''ll be good as new."
"You''re slurring, dude." Says Jordy.
"You''re one to talk." Says Edward.
Chad stares at Edward. Edward''s hollow eyes stare back. Chad sighs; he tosses the keys to Edward. "If you crash this car, the CIA will reimburse me, right?"
"...Oh yeah sure, 100% Uh huh!"
Chad and Jordy both share the same side eye before looking back at Edward.
"Yeah just go." Says Chad.
"Thank you! Hey by the way, I''ll be busy for the rest of the week. They want me to attend this meeting. I think they wanna discuss something about some rich asshole who disobeyed them or something. Plus I got a date with someone soon so, if you want anything tonight, just lemme know."
Chad simply shoos him away. "I''ll send you a text. Just make sure to drive back here when you''re done."
Edward shoots a forced smile and a thumbs up before excitedly skipping towards the elevator.
"Why''d you give him the keys?" Asks Jordy.
"You already know he won''t stop bothering us. Besides, the truck is old. If he crashes it, the CIA will give me a new truck."
Jordy looks at Chad and squints.
"...You work with the CIA?"
Chad''s heart skips a beat.
Oh fuck.
"Well..." He sighs. "No. But he does."
"(Technically, I''m not lying.)" Thinks Chad to himself. "(I don''t officially work with the CIA yet. I''m comfortable with the job I have. And even then, Jinsei and Edward are the ones who are really partnering with them. If I''m at the scene, I''m just an associate of an associate of theirs. But fuck, that''s so stupid! What was I thinking slipping up like that? I don''t want get myself involved with any of this CIA stuff. And the last thing I want to do is drag an innocent person like Jordy into it too.)"
"In other news, thanks for teaching me some of the fundamentals!" Abruptly says Jordy.
"Oh uh, of course. What''re you developing?"
"I''m actually starting to develop my own ability now." Explains Jordy. "I recently found out my specialization."
"Oh yeah? What are you?"
"I''m Half Ki Half Magic." Explains Jordy.
And from then on, they continued to discuss Jordy''s magic prowess. The night continues.
No, Edward did not return with the truck. He forgot what he was doing and drove back to the motel instead.
Chad and Jordy were very pissed.
Return of lost emotions
Rebound empath
What you relay unto me
Realization
Oh no.
.
.
.
MEANWHILE, a couple hours before the night at the casino.
8:30 AM
Right after Jin''s failed assassination on Kito.
Deep in the mountains, in a snowy forest, Jin is huffing harshly. He looks haggard. Cold, raspy air rapidly escapes his mouth. He''s on the phone.
"COME ON PICK C-COME ON PICK UP." Frantically says Jin.
*Click*
"What happened." Says the voice on the line.
"Mr. Mishima! He''s... he''s fucking monster! I-I couldn''t do it. I-I-"
"Why do you sound like that."
"I spent almost all of my fucking ki! I..I"
"Settle down. Head towards the nearest school and use the teleporters. I''m at the Nigata campus. Meet me there. We''ll talk."
"Oh...oh ok." Huffs Jin.
They hang up. Jin covers himself in his large hood. He uses whatever embers of ki he has left and limps towards the general direction of the nearest school.
"Fuck, this job sucks..." he mutters to himself.
『Chapter 29: RUPTURE』
8:35 AM
The morning of Jin''s failed assassination attempt on Kito
Jin stumbles down the forest area of a mountain. He clutches onto his coat, shivering. "F-Fuck, this job sucks..." he mutters to himself. "(I should''ve just stayed at school... should''ve stayed an engineer. Could''ve avoided all this...shit.)"
He stops walking for a second and meditates on what he just thought. "(What am I saying? This is way better than engineering.)" He continues to think as he''s walking. "(Tch. Seriously. It doesn''t matter if I''m good at it, if I hate it, I don''t want to do it. But even that''s not the real issue. Being an agent grants me all types of freedom. Sure, I can stay at school basically risk free and just work as an engineer for Magic items. Or I can patrol around my region. But what the fuck am I going to see? Some bear that can use magic? There''s little to no reason any rogue sorcerer would willingly be here. So then, what did I choose?
Obviously, I joined Mr. Mishima. He''s the Ambassador of the Ordinance Academy Project. Meaning, he has a high position. Not only that, but he''s sided with the conservative faction. Those geezers and their power, exchanging favors between other geezers in power. They can do basically anything they please as long as they have the paperwork to back it up. And even then, Mishima can just swipe it under the rug because of his position.
Why wouldn''t I join him? Its the optimal thing to do. But why did he choose me? I mean aside from being handsome and smart because like, come on; I''m me! But even with that aside, I won''t deny that my ability is something that he''s mainly interested in. At least that''s the vibe I get. Not that I care. All I have to do is join his little secret special forces of groomed agents in his back pocket and I''m good to go. Even if its all just obeying a bunch of fucking old men, what''s the issue?
I don''t care.
Yeah, getting bitched at all day by Mishima is annoying with the whole ''Jin do this, Jin kill this guy, Jin use your ability on this civilian, Jin retrieve the papers, Jin blah blah blah.'' But a job is a job. Even if supporting the older generations running the system inadvertently hurts me, I don''t care. Even if he''s coming up with schemes that literally only make sense to him, I don''t care. Hell, even getting along with the other creeps in his little spec ops group isn''t so hard as long as they leave me alone. All that matters is that I get my sweet sweet days off. Work harder jobs to reap better rewards. It''s simple logic.)"
Jin eventually trips, his face landing on the snow. He feels a film of intangible oil go past his face. He looks up. It''s the domain that separates the campus from the outside world. "Oh cool, I''m here."
He picks himself back up and walks inside the front entrance.
A girl with a bob cut and a red beanie greets him. She''s wearing the typical student''s uniform.
"Welcome. You look unwell."
Shivering, with icicle seeping out of his nose, Jin responds. "G-GUH- Y-YOU THINK?"
The girl blinks. "Why don''t you just use Ki to regulate your body temperature?"
Jin hits head. "Ow. Gee! Why didn''t I think of that??? Oh wait, maybe its because I''M ALMOST OUT."
The girl doesn''t respond for a couple seconds before going "Suck it up."
"God damn you''re annoying. Anyway, does your teleporter work?"
"Mmmmmm...I''m pretty sure it does. You can go check. It''s in the basement."
Jin leaves. He walks down the winding halls, eventually finding the teleporter in a dark room. He teleports to the Nigata campus, and eventually finds Mishima''s office. As per usual, a windowless room, illuminated only by the glow of Mishima''s laptop.
"Welcome Jin. Now, tell me what happened."
Jin then explains how the mission went.
"...I see." Says Mishima. He clasps his hands together and stares intently at his desk. "So he''s strong."
"Uh- yeah. If he was some typical rogue sorcerer there''d be no way he would''ve noticed me. Not only that, but I could''ve fought him right then and there and won."
"So that confirms my suspicions."
Jin looks confused. "What do you mean?"
"I suspected he was a sorcerer, but this also confirms that he''s stronger than he looks."
"...So you just used me as bait?"
Mishima squints at Jin. "...Was that not obvious?"
Jin closes his eyes. "God damn it... well, I understand why. Doesn''t make it any less bogus."
"Right. Well, to get the obvious out of the way, this''ll be a problem. We need to get rid of him as soon as possible. I''ll have to call an agent from another region."
"What for?"
"To actually get this job done."
"ouch."
"And more specifically," continues Mishima, "to find someone more suited for this. I could hire a plethora of agents, but first off, I want this to be as private as possible."
"...Wouldn''t it be better to have everyone know that we''re targeting Kito?"
"No." Simply responds Mishima. "They might be after him too. And then it''ll become a race for who gets to claim him. Not only that, but I fear that we would just get in each other''s way."
Jin thinks about the obnoxious students at the Kyoto school; specifically Kyouji and Jinsei. They think they''re so much smarter than him. Ugh. He rolls his eyes. "Fair."
"Second of all, in the off-chance that Kito kills a group of agents, that would be assets that not only I would have to pay for, but also just a loss of the Ordinance''s forces in general. Even if they''re on commission and sign the papers, I''d hate to be associated with that."
"Uh huh."
"And so, that leaves me with finally finding the perfect person for the job. Judging from your testimony, Kito excels in close quarters combat. So, I''ll need someone that excels in avoiding direct confrontation. Luckily, I heard of someone like that a couple months ago, and I feel like they''re the perfect fit for the job."
Mishima scrolls through the Ordinance Agency''s catalog and finds the person he''s looking for. He calls the number.
"Hello, is this agent Nowa?" Asks Mishima. The telephone responds quietly in his ear. "Yes, this is Ambassador Mishima. I know this is sudden, but are you available right now? Hm. Yes. It''s for an interview; I''m interested in commissioning you. Yes. What''s the soonest you''ll be available? I see, perfect. Would you be able to use the nearest campus'' teleporters? Unsure if they''re working? Hm. Well, just notify me as soon as possible. Thank you for your time."
*click*
"And now, we wait." Simply says Mishima. "In the meantime, I''ll be making phone calls to the owner of the apartment building as well as the company that owns it."
Jin looks at Mishima. "Won''t this hurt their business?"
Mishima shakes his head. "You''re still inexperienced in this side of sorcery. Trust me, they''ll let anything slide as long as the insurance bonus is worth it."
"But we''re just doing our job as a government body. Insurance I can get, but why the hell should we have to give them bonuses?"
"When it comes to politics, all that matters are relationships. It doesn''t matter what you do or what you believe in, as long as the person on your side is benefitting from it. Perceptions matter, so it''d be best we all be on each other''s good side."
Jin scrunches up his nose. "(Typical.)" He thinks to himself.
"One last thing," clarifies Mishima.
"What''s up?"
"Do you remember the HEMATOMA project?"
Jin begins to shuffle in his chair. He folds his arms. "Yeah."
"Did I ever introduce you to the precursor, RUPTURE?"
"No."
"Well, I''ll have to introduce you to them. They''re necessary for setting up the attack, specifically for reducing collateral damage against civilians."
Jin hugs himself. "Alright..."
"But I''ll take care of that later today," clarifies Mishima. "For now, I''m going to I''m going to be making lots of calls to these companies. Especially the banks. I might as well cripple Kito''s men before I kill him too."
Jin raises his hand.
"No, you can''t leave" Answers Mishima.
Jin puts his hand down.
.
.
.
45 minutes later
Footsteps echo down the hall. Someone knocks on Mishima''s door.
"Come in," says the Ambassador.
A man wearing a balaclava with holes for his eyes and mouth, enters the room. He stands at an average height. He''s wearing a bulky, black, bullet proof vest with various pockets, as well as a coat underneath the vest. He''s wearing fatigues, gloves, and boots as well. The entire suit is pitch black. He takes off his mask, revealing a handsome face as well white, shoulder length hair. He also holds a peach while walking into the room.
Mishima introduces him. "This is agent Nowa. He''s from Nara."This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Nowa takes a bite out of the peach as he is being introduced.
CRUNCH
"What? Is that your thing? You eat peaches?" Asks Jin.
"Yeah." Says Nowa in an annoyed tone.
"...ok?" Says Jin in an equally annoyed tone
Mishima starts. "In preparation for an event like this, I''ve looked up candidates that could possibly take this job. It only gives a brief summary of your skills so, could you please explain your abilities."
"I''m a magic specialist." Explains Nowa. "Roughly 90% magic and 10% Ki. My technique is [Decoy-Surprise]. Technically, its two abilities, but they mesh so well it might as well be one ability. The first is [Decoy]. I can plant markers that give off the illusion of a non-sorcerer''s presence. As a trade-off, they can''t move, breathe, etc. Plus, they''re simply markers; if you see it in person, they''re just floating orbs. This is where [Surprise] comes in. With Surprise, I can set bombs with their own conditions. For example, if you open up this door, the bomb planted on the door will explode. They can be detonated as long as I''m within a kilometer of where the bombs are. And finally, the bombs are undetectable through magic, ki, or psychopower, but show up as tangible, red, glowing puddy. Like the plasticizer in C4."
"Let me guess, that can be mitigated by just hiding it well, right?" Asks Jin.
"Correct. The caveat is that since its tangible, it can still be seen by a non-sorcerer."
"Wait, then couldn''t it be detected through Ki?"
"Thats the thing, I made it so that its undetectable through supernatural means. But of of course, that sounds too good to be true."
"So what''s the catch?" Asks Jin.
"The size of the explosion is dependent on the amount of gel applied. And if you couldn''t already tell, this shit''s expensive."
"If it were to come to it, how good are you at close quarters combat?" Asks Mishima.
"Not great. I banked my specialization and ability on avoiding that scenario in the first place. If it comes to it, I can technically fight with the gel on my hands and slap it onto them... and although most people''s abilities don''t affect themselves, I made it so that I''m vulnerable to [Surprise]''s explosions so, I''ll only resort to that if necessary. The risk makes it cheaper to use, and I''m not planning to fight hand to hand in the first place so its an easy way of making it cost-effective."
Jin gives him a weird look. "Its like you hate being practical. Why come up with so many conditions for this?"
"Judging by your looks, you''re a student, so lemme explain it to you this way: us agents have the freedom to do more than just patrolling. If I designed it so that I''m suitable for assassinations, then they''re going to assign me to assassinations."
"I already knew that. I''m also an agent."
"Really? Because you sure don''t look nor act like it."
"Listen asshole-"
"Wha- asshole?"
"YEAH, BECAUSE YOU''RE ACTING LIKE AN ASSHOLE."
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING ASSHOLE? YOU''RE LITERALLY TOO STUPID TO UNDERSTAND BASIC LOGIC AND PLANNING-"
"Both of you, enough." Interrupts Mishima. "Nowa, if I were to assign you this mission privately for tomorrow, would you be able to do it?"
"Sure. As long as its before 8 PM I should be fine. I''m watching a movie with my girlfriend so-"
"Nobody asked." Interrupts Jin.
Nowa angrily stares at Jin while taking an aggressive bite out of his peach.
CRUNCH
"Perfect." Continues Mishima. "Now, I understand taking you out of your assigned area isn''t a good thing. On top of that, there''s the obvious price. So what are you asking for?"
"400,000 yen for taking me out of my area. I''d be annoyed if I got chewed out for not being available if it wasn''t worth it."
"I''ll make sure its waived but, sure."
"As for the actual mission... 9,000,000 Yen."
Mishima pauses.
"It''s gonna be a pretty dirty job, especially if the email you sent me about the basic plan is as big as you make it sound to be. Even more so if he''s a big a threat as you make him out to be."
Eventually, Mishima responds. "4,000,000 Yen. Plus 4 weeks of vacation."
"Sold," simply says Nowa. "(Doing this everyday for the rest of my life is already annoying, so any free day is as good as it gets)." Thinks Nowa to himself. "With that settled, what''s the plan?"
"We''re going to have you bomb his apartment."
The room goes quiet for a second.
"Alright... I''m assuming you already have an excuse ready to explain a building in the middle of town exploding."
"I do. Today, I''ll email the head of the company that owns that apartment what''s going to happen. Everything and everyone will be insured. Since we''re the government, they can''t do anything about it. Tomorrow, while Kito is out at work in the middle of the day, we will let the fire department know that there is a gas leakage and force everyone out of there. As people are being escorted, Nowa will plant a bunch of decoys around the building, as well as a large bomb primarily in Kito''s apartment. And just for insurance''s sake, I''ll need Nowa to put bombs on various gas pipes as well."
Nowa looks visibly worried. "Hey now, don''t you think that''s a bit overkill? Shouldn''t a giant bomb going off in front of him be good enough?"
"No. I''m not taking any risks with him. If he''s as strong as Jin implies him to be, then a large explosion should end him."
Nowa pauses. "But what if Jin''s just really weak?"
"Fuck you."
"No, I''m being serious."
Mishima shakes his head. "Jin is a capable person. I wouldn''t imagine him running away if it wasn''t necessary. Besides, based on how Kito manipulated the mayor''s death, as well as Jin''s testimony, he''s definitely experienced."
"Hmm...alright. And I know its not my business but what about the people''s stuff? That''s their lives right there."
"Stimulation checks and insurance. It''ll all be covered."
"Even those that don''t have insurance?"
"For an extreme situation like this, we''ll let it slide, just this once."
"But where will the people sleep?" Asks Jin.
"I''m arranging local hotels and apartments to reserve as many vacant places as possible. The leaders of the company will understand, especially with all the insurance funding they''ll be getting."
Nowa shrugs. "Alright then, sounds good to me. I''ll get to preparing. But aside from that, is there anything else you need from me?"
"As of right now, no. I''ll let you know when I''ll need you."
"Perfect." Right as Nowa touches the handle of the door, he starts. "By the way, I want to make it clear that I''m just doing this out of my own volition."
"...Meaning?" Asks Mishima.
"I don''t want to be involved in whatever political scheme you or the other schools are playing."
"You don''t have to worry about that," simply says Mishima.
Nowa breathes out. "Thanks for understanding."
Nowa leaves and closes the door behind him.
"...What an obnoxious asshole" comments Jin.
Mishima clasps his hands together, and holds them near his face.
"What''s wrong Mr. Mishima?"
"Nothing. It''s a busy day today, but that''s just the job. However, now that Nowa''s gone, I might as well show you that project."
"...What project?"
"RUPTURE. Come on, its best I show you how to use them."
Mishima stands up and motions Jin to follow along.
Jin feels a chill down his back. His fingers start to fidget.
Mishima looks at him. "What''s wrong?"
"Nothing? I''m fine." Says Jin.
They both leave the room.
.
.
.
They take the elevator and go down the basement of the campus. Through the winding halls, the glow of the fluorescent lights start to dim.
"Where are we going?" Asks Jin.
"To meet RUPTURE."
"I get that but, where are we going?"
Less and less lights begin to appear.
Mishima pauses for a bit before responding. "When you joined the Glow of the Night Forces, you knew what privileges you received, right?"
"...Money and vacation time?"
Mishima''s eye twitches. "Not just that. Knowledge. You, along with the rest of the team have clearance towards special projects that we look over."
Eventually, the only light illuminating the halls is the distant faint glow behind them.
But they''re past that now.
They eventually arrive at the end of a hall. Jin touches the cold, concrete wall in front of him. He tries to give Mishima a confused look. Yet even his nightvision proves useless in this area.
Mishima calmly places his hand on the wall.
A large spiraling sigil glows in the dark. Various alien runes and ancient kanji blur the insides of the sigil. The only kanji that Jin could discern were the kanji for "mouth," "to listen," and "dog."
Mishima begins to chant.
"Ignorance scrambler
Mind of the masses
Control which cannot be controlled
Fate dictation
Knowledge induction
Consume
In the name of the moon."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pylfy_L6Bjs
The wall cracks open. A vertical slit oozing with thick, old, oil splits open. It''s only wide enough to let one person pass at a time.
"Wha- what is this? Why is it like this?" Asks Jin.
Mishima doesn''t answer for a couple seconds, before responding. "My...The Vice Principal of the Kyoto campus used to be a colleague of mine. Me, him, and another friend studied a lot back then. He''s a very closed off man...the Vice Principal..But, all you need to know is that me, the Vice Principal, and Principal Hanayama put our assets together to make these projects. It''s one of the few things we all agree to work together on."
They walk forward.
Jin feels a cold breeze. The room is suddenly large, like an auditorium or a gymnasium. They can see a single faint light coming from the ceiling. In front of them, a single thing is illuminated.
Hanging from the ceiling is an upside down silhouette of a man, half consumed by a body bag. The musculature of the person looks frail and lanky. The arms are crossed together, as if hugging itself. The man is wearing a pure latex gimp suit. Not a speck of skin can be seen. The head of the man is covered by a leather dog mask. The eye holes have been covered, and the mouth sown shut. The perky ears resemble those of a Dobermann. The sheen of the latex reflects a bit of the light.
Mishima clicks his tongue. "Come on girl. We''re going for a walk."
Silence.
The head of the figure eventually aims its head directly at Mishima''s voice. The arms of the figure slowly let go of their crossed positions, and extend above them, touching the ground. The latex squeaks loudly. Slowly yet surely, as if doing a handstand, the figure controls their descent. Their legs disconnect themselves from the body bag. Eventually landing on all fours, it proceeds to crawl up to Mishima on all fours. Both Mishima and Jin can hear the quiet panting its making.
"Good girl." Says Mishima.
Jin looks at Mishima. Mishima looks visibly disgusted, yet keeps a stern face.
"Give me yours paws." Commands Mishima.
RUPTURE presents their hands. The hands are covered with mittens. Mishima takes off the mittens, thus allowing RUPTURE to move their fingers freely.
"Come on girl. We have a job to do. Stand up. You can get your treat after we''re done."
RUPTURE shakes its head, before standing up. They tower over both Mishima and Jin.
Despite having no possible way of seeing, RUPTURE faces towards Jin.
"(Fuck.)" Simply thinks Jin to himself. "(This job sucks.)"
.
.
.
Later in the night.
11 PM
Jin, RUPTURE, and Mishima are above top of a building. Kito''s apartment building is only a couple buildings apart from the building they''re standing on.
"Hm." Says Mishima to himself.
"What''s up?" Asks Jin.
"For some reason, I don''t sense an obnoxiously loud presence near us. Perhaps he''s out eating dinner. Or drinking. Well, whatever the case, this works for us." He turns to Jin and starts explaining. "In order for the plan to work, RUPTURE here will control the minds of those in the area, so as to prevent collateral damage or any injuries. But Kito would be able to sense that from far away, so we''re going to leave RUPTURE here overnight."
Jin squints at him. "Wha- but wouldn''t Kito sense him right when he wakes up? Hell, even when he comes back?"
"Not to worry. If we start now, RUPTURE can begin their preparations. They''re a PsychoPower specialist, so things like masking their presence is easy for them to do. And since we''re leaving them here for plenty of hours, the amount of mudras they''ll be doing will make it so that even someone like Kito won''t be able to sense them."
"Huh... interesting."
"Plus, with the amount of conditions already running, everything from their side of the mission should be executed flawlessly."
"...So what do I have to do?"
"You''re going to be keeping tabs on Kito."
"You''re shitting me."
"I''m not. You''ll lower your levels to the point of a civilians. You can do that, can''t you?"
Jin thinks to himself for a split second. "(Fuck, if I say no he might think I''m some retard who can''t do his job. And if he fires me, the last thing I''m expecting is a simple pink slip.)"
"Yeah, I can do that." Responds Jin.
Something catches his eye. Jin faces his left.
RUPTURE is staring at him.
"Good answer," simply says Mishima. "About three hours before he leaves for work, you will pose as a firefighter and evacuate everyone from the building. Meanwhile, Nowa will plant the decoys and bombs. After everyone is evacuated, RUPTURE will take care of the civilians. Afterwards, you will go back to Kito''s job. You''ll be spying on him as he leaves his work, while radioing to us the process. Meanwhile, the apartment should have notified all of the tenants except for Kito, that a gas leak is in the building and to await further instructions from the fire department. These messages will all be emailed, called, texted, etc. And once Kito is near, is when RUPTURE will do its part of the job. And from there, Nowa''s bombs should already have their conditions placed, and that''ll be that."
"Sounds simple enough."
"Glad you agree." Mishima then grabs a piece of chalk from his pocket. He starts making a large sigil on the ground, and writes the same runes as the ones from the dwelling. Scribbling in each minute detail, Mishima completes it within four minutes.
He then walks over to RUPTURE. "Listen here, you''re going to be a good girl, and you''re going to maximize your PsychoPower nonstop until I ask you that. Is that clear, girl?"
RUPTURE aggressively nods its head.
"Good girl," says Mishima as he scratches its head. RUPTURE takes it upon itself to aggressively move its head under Mishima''s hand, aiming for the right spots. It then stands up and sits on the circle in a cross legged position. It starts aggressively making hand signs, flashing them in a nonstop sequence. Its panting grows slightly louder.
Jin has never seen someone meditate this hard before.
Within four seconds, RUPTURE and its sigil disappear from the thin air.
"Wha- WHAT?"
"They''re still there," clarifies Mishima, wiping his hand on pants. His nose is scrunched up. "Like I said, someone with RUPTURE''s prowess, can even fool an experienced sorcerer. But of course, in order for things to get this strong, these things come with conditions. They''re a tool, not a weapon."
"(What, what even powers them?)" Thinks Jin to himself. "(Who would even come up with something like this? How?)"
Mishima simply stares at the moon.
.
.
.
The next day.
Kito, reminiscing about the night prior, thinks about Naoki and his friends.
"Hm." He says to himself. "I could go for some crab tonight."
He clocks out, and begins his march home.
『Chapter 30: Decoy』
The night before the apartment bombing plan:
As Mishima, Jin, and Rupture are in Kito''s town, Nowa is back in Nara. Nowa is at his apartment with his girlfriend, Kim. They''re both sitting down on a couch watching tv and drinking wine.
Nowa''s white hair flows. Though, since he''s done working, he''s stopped wearing the balaclava and bomb suit. Kim on the other hand is shorter than him, standing at around 5''3". She has her hair styled into a bob cut and is still wearing her vibrant red beanie. They''re both wearing matching bear pajamas.
They''re both giggling. "So what else happened to you today?" Asks Kim.
"Well aside from a meeting, I also met this douchebag."
"Oh yeah?" She giggles.
"Yeah. He was wearing this ridiculous outfit. Like seriously, who are you impressing? Fuckin dork." Says Nowa, as he bites into a peach.
CRUNCH
"(Hm...this one''s still sweet. But also kinda stale. I should buy fresher ones.)" He thinks to himself.
"What else was he like?" Asks Kim.
"I don''t know he''s just like...an ass? You know? Like deadass, the moment I walked in, he started hating. How petty do you have to be to do that? Like????" He shrugs.
Kim lightly hits his shoulder.
"What about you?" Asks Nowa. "How did your day go?"
"Oh the usual. I didn''t do anything meaningful, but, I did meet a douchebag at work today."
"Really? How did that go?"
Kim sighs. "Man he was just... annoying. Like he was freezing but like, we have ki? He could just resist the temperature...was he stupid?"
Nowa spits out his wine as he coughs, chuckling. There''s wine and spit on the coffee table now. Kim gives a disgruntled look. Nowa looks at her and smiles. "See what you made me do?"
"You''re so gross," chuckles Kim.
Nowa gets up and gets paper towels. As he cleans up the mess, he smiles, yet he has a blank face.
Kim puts her wine glass on the table. "What''s up?" She asks Nowa.
Nowa, caught off-guard looks at her. "What''s up with what?"
"I know that look. You have something in your mind. Spit it out."
"Oh well, its not really that important but, you know how I told that I have a mission tomorrow?"
Kim rolls her eyes. "Babe, just because we had to reschedule the date doesn''t mean its that deep."
"No its, not that. Well, not just that. It''s my employer."
"Oh, your principal didn''t assign you it?"
"No, it''s Mishima."
Kim pauses, looking to the side with a squint before looking back at him. "As in... I mean there''s lots of people with the name Mishima. You know that, right?"
"No I mean that Mishima. The ambassador."
Kim thinks for a couple seconds before continuing. "Yeah, I kinda figured..."
"Then why''d you ask which one?"
"...No reason." She says, looking away.
Nowa purses his lips. "But yeah, it''s just this one job. I gotta kill this one asshole and then it''ll be smooth sailing from here."
"I mean... are you sure that''s a good idea?" Asks Kim. "I don''t know much about this guy but from everything I''ve heard, he''s pretty sketchy to me."
"Babe, it''s no big deal." He says, sitting back down. He holds his girlfriend''s hands. "And besides, the whole thing''s confidential."
She squints and slowly pulls her hands back. "Then why the hell are you telling me?"
He looks into her eyes. "Because I hate keeping things from you."
Her hands immediately clutch back onto Nowa''s. "You''re so gross..." She says while blushing.
"And besides," continues Nowa. "Its not too important. Just wanted to surprise you with the fact that after this, I get a pretty smooth deal."
"And what''s the deal?"
"Don''t want to spoil it too hard, but our vacations gonna be extra expensive." Explains Nowa.
She chuckles. "Then that''s not a surprise, you idiot."
He smooches her on the cheek. "Yeah well that''s because I can''t think straight when I''m around you."
She jokingly retches and kisses him in the mouth. "That was cringe as fuck."
He softly grasps her hands. He looks intently at her hand. "Yeah. I know."
.
.
.
Next morning, Nowa and Jin are outside of the apartment. There''s a parked firetruck near them. They''ve already set up yellow tape around the building.
Jin is wearing a firefighter''s outfit. He''s not wearing a mask. His face shape is soft. The peach fuzz on his face is growing thicker, sporting a slightly bigger mustache and small chin scruff. Jin scratches said facial hair in an annoyed manner, muttering about "instant facial hair regrowth."
Nowa on the other hand is wearing his bombsuit, balaclava, and a large backpack. He''s holding a blueprint.
"So, Mishima told me that he received Kito''s schedule as a request from the government to the company," says Jin.
"Uh huh." Simply says Nowa, looking up and down the apartment.
"Kito is gonna be back in around 3 hours."
"Yeah."
"A notification should have already been sent to all the tenants, and they''re about to set off the alarm for the building to hear."
"Mm hm."
While Jin is explaining this, Nowa is studying the schematics of the building. He looks at the inner walls of the building, following the trajectory of the pipes.
"With that all said and done, we should move on to the next step."
Jin and Nowa enter the building. Nowa goes to the elevator. Jin goes straight into the office. There, the head manager, a skinny man with glasses, greets him. "I received the email" says the manager.
"Good," says Jin, immediately going to the intercom on the table.
"Attention all tenants, this is the fire department."
Simultaneously, several tenants stop what they''re doing and look up.
"Please evacuate the building immediately. There have been reports of a supposed gas leakage within the building. Please turn off all electrical and gas appliances at this time. Do not conduct any open flames at this time. Do not panic. Please leave in a calm and orderly fashion. Everything will be secured and insured."
Only thirty or so tenants are in the building. Some are watching television. Some are reading the paper and eating lunch. One guy is smoking a cigarette, and immediately goes "fuck," before panicking and putting the cigarette out. Footsteps frantically walk down the hall. One women is in hysterics yet, most of everyone else is walking down in a quick, quiet pace.
Meanwhile, Nowa hides in a janitor''s closet, waiting patiently. He''s browsing on his phone, looking for something in particular. No, too tacky. No, too obnoxious. Nah, too pretentious. "She''s not the materialistic type but, come on." He thinks to himself.
Jin runs up the stairs and frantically checks every door and apartment. He sees a couple of tenants struggle, and helps them down the stairs. A couple are elderly folks. There is a single blind man who also needed a bit of help. The more Jin checks the rooms, he sees that a couple of them had cages. A couple cats meander about. Small dogs in cages. Snakes, tarantulas, and turtles in other rooms. He pats his chest pocket. There''s a pen and sticky notes. He sighs. He hesitantly walks past them.
Only to turn around.
Jin calls to Nowa telepathically. "It should be all clear now."
Nowa exits the janitor''s closet. By sheer coincidence, he sees Jin running around, holding glass cages in each arm, while carrying a kitten by its back in his mouth. He frantically enters the elevator and pushes the button with his nose. The elevator goes down.
"...the fuck?" Mutters Nowa to himself. He continues to walk down the halls. He walks into an apartment. He turns on the tv. He takes off his gloves. His hands ooze with purple slime. He clasps his hands together, pressuring them against each other before pulling them apart. A blue glowing orb sticks to his left hand. "And you... will be watching the news." He plops the orb onto the couch. The remote is neatly placed on the right armrest of the couch. He pictures a man sitting down, watching the news. "Yeah...that''ll do." He makes sure to put his gloves back on so as to not drip any of his gooey residue onto the scenes. He walks away and locks the door behind him. He continues towards a room a couple doors down. He can hear Jin coming back in and out the building, running around the other floors.
Nowa does the same process with a couple of apartment rooms, spreading them throughout the building. Some are reading the newspaper. The elderly are taking naps. One is taking a bath. There''s a kid doing homework on his desk. Similar, silent scenarios play at the same time.
Nowa rubs his hands. "(Don''t want to do too many, or else I''ll run out of magic.)" He thinks to himself. Though there are ultimately less than 20 rooms occupied with spiritual mannequins, the fact that they''re all decently spread out makes Nowa think he''s done a decent job.
Nowa eventually goes up to the fourth floor. He walks to the janitor''s closet and opens up the schematic. After analyzing for a bit, he punches through the wall, easily making a hole. He sees a pipe that should belong to the gas line. He uncovers his hands and slides his hands together. After rubbing for a bit, a red puddy is produced, becoming larger and larger the more he scrapes his palm. He slaps the small ball onto the pipe, and exits the janitor''s closet.
He walks around the halls and looks at the ceiling. He notices some gaps in the walls alongside the pillars. "(Sure,)" Thinks Nowa to himself. "(There might not be any gas pipes near that gap in particular. However.)" He unfolds a pocket from his vest and pulls out a grenade sized glob of red goop. He jumps up a bit and stuffs the glob through the hole. "(If the explosive yield is big enough, it''ll still hit the pipes, and trigger an explosion.)" He continues to roam the halls, looking for other places to hide globs of [Surprise].
As Nowa is doing that, Jin on the other hand finishes unloading all of the pets in the firetruck. "OK," he says, tired and stressed. "Now that I''ve finished that, I just have to hope to god that none of them get out of their cages and start eating each other." All of the cages have a sticky note slapped onto them, belonging to the room number.
After Nowa finishes planting a bunch of small bombs throughout the fourth floor, he arrives to his final destination: Room 409. He makes sure to open the door''s handle with a lock pick rather than with brute force. He looks around.
"Hm. So this is the politician''s house." He mutters to himself.
The apartment is small and quiet. Several newspapers litter the round dining table. He has a small tv set up in front of the table, right next to the entrance. A lingering scent of salt, fish, and iron lingers around the apartment. There''s 300 lb dumbbells casually lying around the floor, alongside a pull-up bar. He enters the bedroom. It''s cramped. A small futon is set on the ground. It only has a single blanket on it. The futon is marked with sweat, alongside a Kito-sized indent on it. The only other thing in the room is a desk and a computer on it. It''s outdated by at least 10 years. Nowa shrugs and decides to see if he can crack the computer''s password, just to see what''s inside. To his surprise, the computer doesn''t have a password.
"(...I guess he wasn''t expecting a stranger to use his computer,)" Thinks Nowa to himself.
He immediately checks the search history. A bunch of results showing "Ushiyama Kito," "Kito prediction results," "Kyoto prefecture mayoral predictions." Nowa scoffs at these results. He continues. "Kyoto mayor death information," "How to get rid of the scent of Iron," "How long does it take for things to decompose underwater," "Kanji Takayama wrestling tour schedule," "How to get lots of subscribers," "Bear meat nutrition facts" and other results of the sort.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
"...the fuck?" Nowa clicks the links and skims them for a bit. After about five minutes he decides to check other documents from the computer. Nothing but receipts, applications, resumes, and tax forms show up. He skims through the emails. Again, nothing but grocery store coupons, sale notifications, work emails, and a bunch of unfiltered spam litter Kito''s email. Nowa does a final check for apps. "(Tch, not even video games? What does he even do for fun?)" Nowa turns off the computer.
"(Well, I was expecting porn but I got something weirder so, I guess that''s something. Otherwise I don''t really have any other information to report to Mishima as a bonus so, whoop dee doo.)"
Nowa continues to walk around the apartment. There''s are only two posters. One with Mike Mentzer, and another with rising star and popular pro wrestler, Kenzo Kanji. The date on Kenzo''s poster is circled. Nowa notices a couple of journals piled up on Kito''s table. He flips through them. The only thing he finds within them are a bunch of tables of Kito''s fitness personal records, nutrition logs, and small comments such as "stress makes the meat taste worse; go for quick kill next time." There are other notes within the journal but they have no comments. "(...without a proper basis, this all just seems like gibberish.)"
Finally, Nowa looks for food. He opens the pantry and snacks on a box of cereal before putting it back. There''s nothing interesting aside from typical spices and canned sardines. He opens up the fridge. An immediate, pungent smell of iron enters his nose. "UGH," he yells, covering his nose. He looks inside. His nose wrinkles.
"Who the hell keeps a half butchered fish in a fridge? Seriously? What is wrong with you?"
He covers his nose and keeps looking around for a couple seconds. There''s three gallons of milk, fresh mystery meat which also reeked of iron, a half opened can of miso, jugs of water, and leftover udon. Nowa opens the freezer.
"(I wouldn''t mind stealing some alcohol from this guy. It''s not a part of the mission but Jin''s taking forever so, lemme have some fun for a bit.)"
There''s nothing but ice cubes and frozen ramen.
Nowa slams the freezer.
He crosses his arms and slowly comes to the realization.
"Well... that was a waste of fucking time. Seriously this guy''s so normal its not even fun to snoop around."
He sits down on the dining room chair, rests his feet on the table and turns on the tv. Here it is; what it feels like to be a political candidate.
"..."
He gets up after 5 seconds.
"(Yeah. This place sucks.)"
He gets up and picks pre-formed blue blob of [Decoy] from his vest pockets. He sets it down on the chair, picturing the decoy as if they were a business man sitting down.
"(If this guy is as cracked as Mishima lets him on to be, then there''s a chance that he''d detect something off about the building. But, from what I could infer about this guy and his abilities, he''s a close quarters specialist, so he''d most likely be the type to confront people head on. And if he could sense someone sitting in his house, he''d damn well be willing to take them on...which leads into...)"
Nowa walks over to the door. He finally drops his backpack and opens it. Heaving, he digs his arms deep into the backpack, and carries a boulder of [Surprise]. Grunting, he leans onto the door, and depends on the bomb''s residue to stick onto the wall. By pressing it with his body, the boulder manages to slowly stick onto the side of the door. Nowa grunts and pants. "*huff* *huff* FUCK...my back..."
"(Granted,)" thinks Nowa to himself. "(My ability is expensive. However, if I just make the [Decoy]s and [Surprise]s before the mission, then, that essentially means I can farm my own ability (as long as none of them detonate))."
He strokes his chin and smiles. "(Not to be an egoist but god *damn* I love being me so much.)"
Nowa clicks his radio on his vest. "Hey, I''m done here. What''s taking you so long."
Jin eventually responds. "What? I''ve been waiting for you. What''s been taking you so long?"
"Oh."
Silence.
"I''m heading down now," simply says Nowa.
"And by the way, you should tone down that attitude of yo-"
Tzt. Nowa turns the radio off. "Yeah, that''s enough of that."
Outside, Jin looks at his radio with a disgruntled look. "Wha- Hello? Hello? Nowa? Seriously, what a douche."
Back inside, Nowa finally exits Kito''s apartment, and closes the door behind him. He looks behind and says aloud "the very moment this door opens, all of the bombs will simultaneously explode."
A vibrant glow illuminates underneath the door.
Nowa hurriedly walks down the stairs of the apartment and goes outside.
Jin meets Nowa outside. Jin isn''t wearing his firefighter''s disguise anymore. Instead, he''s wearing a baggy red hoodie, ripped jeans, and stylish sneakers. All of the tenants as well as the manager are outside, nervously waiting. "Reception isn''t working for me," says one tenant. "My phone isn''t getting any either?" Says another.
"Where''s the firetruck?" Asks Nowa.
"Put it someplace that''s hard to find. I''ll come back for it later. Right now though, the police and fire department have been notified and are on their way. They have a light idea of what''s going on but for now, they just have a vague instruction of ''wait until further instructions and to keep people off the premises; including their own forces and especially the news.'' Just so Kito doesn''t get notified of the commotion around the building on his way back from work. But with Rupture nearby, I don''t think that''ll be too much of a problem. I already notified Rupture of what to do after the building explodes. But for now, I''m on my way to Kito''s job."
Nowa shrugs. "Alright. I''ll be about a kilometer away, waiting to confirm my part."
"Excuse me sir," says an elderly tenant, asking Nowa. "Since you''re a part of the firefighter division, do you know how long this will take?"
Nowa rolls his eyes. "(Oh yeah, the effects of the bombsuit...)" he thinks to himself.
While Nowa is getting pestered, Jin looks at the building Mishima, Rupture, and himself were standing on last night. "(It''s all up to it, now.)" Thinks Jin to himself.
Jin enters an empty alleyway. He then jumps up and immediately turns into an owl. He flies into the distance.
.
.
.
Outside of the harbor''s gate, Jin patiently sits at a cafe. He''s drinking coffee while eating a cream-filled pastry.
"(It''s been about 30 minutes.)" Thinks Jin to himself. He puts on sunglasses and a facemask, and scrolls through his phone. He''s texting Mishima, updating him on the current mission process. "(Now, even with all of my Ki and Magic, I can''t really contest this guy. But even then, my levels need to be at the absolute lowest so that he doesn''t sense my presence.)"
Jin sips on his coffee. His hands are shaking. "(Not that I could really contest him to begin with but... to think with one single hit he could probably kill me. I could get ripped in half with minimal force. Or worse, he could drag me out without people noticing-)"
He shakes his head. "(Nothing productive comes from thinking about the worst case scenarios. Right now, I just gotta wait and-)"
Jin then sees Kito exiting out of the harbor''s gate.
"(OH SHIT-)"
Waiting 18 seconds, Jin then leaves the cafe and follows him from a distance of about 30 meters away, intermingling and hiding behind the crowd of several people. Jin constantly stares at his phone, pretending to be a digitally obsessed person who''s unable to look up. Jin plays the part so well, he inevitably bumps into people, thus causing a commotion.
"(SHIT-)" Thinks Jin to himself.
Kito looks behind for a split second. He scoffs, inferring about the situation.
"What''s the matter with you, huh?" Screams an old, gruff man, towering over Jin. "You kids and your damn phones. Don''t you know there''s a world in front of you? Jackass."
"(Ok...I don''t think that set him off too hard.)" Jin continues to walk forward, ignoring the old man.
"Huh? Are you ignoring me? I''ll show you how-"
"(I just need to go around the corner and catch up to him from a different angle...)" Thinks Jin.
Jin eventually follows Kito to an outdoor train station. Jin hides behind the train station board as well as a crowd of people. He sits on the opposite end of the train. Babies cry, kids run down the aisles while their mothers try to hold them still. Meanwhile, Jin studies Kito. Kito''s just sitting there. Menacingly. Jin''s heart thumps. "(To think that these people see him everyday.)" Thinks Jin to himself.
Kito stares out into space.
Eventually, they both get off on the same station. Less people are present. Jin still plays the act of a fool on their phone, making it very apparent that his earbuds are out in the open, bobbing his head to music that isn''t even playing.
Kito eventually walks into a grocery store. Jin pretends to walk by. Jin hides around the corner, waits a couple seconds. "(I bet you he went inside the grocery store to lure me in. Or better yet, once he saw me walk past him, he''s going to exit out and confront me here in this alleyway...only one way to find out.)"
Jin waits 2 minutes.
Nothing happens.
"(...Or he''s just getting groceries...)"
Jin eventually walks into the grocery store. He looks all over the place. A clerk then comes over to him. "What are you looking for, sir?"
"I-I-I uhhhh fruits- Yes, fruits."
The clerk points to his immediate left. "They''re over here, sir."
"Oh heheh, sorry, I''m... blind."
She gives a confused look. "What?"
"Like, as a joke..."
"...Aheh...yes. Excuse me, I have a customer to help." She hurriedly walks away.
Jin exhales, before continuing to pace around.
.
.
.
Meanwhile, Kito is on the opposite side of the store, where the fishery is located. It reeks of that pungent stench of seafood and salt. He already has a basket full of onions and a gallon of milk. "(Yesterday was... A good day.)" He begins to think to himself. "(I secured a couple votes, I took down a plethora of Ordinance Academy soldiers, and I already know some of their weaknesses. As such, it''s only natural that this calls for a celebration.)" He sneers, before losing his train of thought. He looks back at his basket. "(Oh, yeah. I''m running out of milk at home...)" He thinks to himself.
"Can I help you, sir?" Asks the butcher.
"Yes, actually. I''m feeling quite well so, would you mind giving me the biggest crab you have?"
The butcher nods. He goes towards a glass cage full of crabs and pulls the biggest one out. It''s slightly bigger than his hand.
Kito gives an irked smile. "...I suppose that will do."
The butcher hands Kito a small box with holes to keep the crab in. Kito continues to look around. He goes to the fruits section. All of the people smell the scent of fish and salt and immediately walk away. Kito looks around, and smells the boxed crab.
"...I don''t think it smells that bad." He mutters to himself.
Kito then sets the box and basket down and picks up on orange. He stares at it and taps it.
Feeling the vibrations, he uses a small portion of Ki on himself and feels it. Every vibration that hits the orange, exposing every fiber, cell, and molecule of the orange. Ringing throughout the fruit, Kito feels a map of the orange through his fingertips. He looks at the orange with annoyance. He taps one orange then another. Then another. "What the hell, really?" He says aloud.
The clerks standby, watching this man tap at each fruit one by one.
He turns to them. "All of these have worms inside." He announces with an annoyed tone. He picks up his basket and box and walks towards the cashier in a frustrated manner.
Behind him, Jin pretends to look at a bunch of Ramen packs.
.
.
.
After Kito pays and leaves the store, he walks down the street. Lost in thought, he lets his legs walk the typical route from the grocery store back home. A little tedious but, for someone like him, this is merely a daily ritual. Habits create discipline; discipline creates character. No matter how long the walk is, he is content in knowing he gains strength from walking so long.
"(It is a good day. And yet, I''m still stuck in thought.)" Meditates Kito. "(I''m proud of what I accomplished, yet, something''s still amiss. I told Naoki that the voting process has started but, I technically lied. The voting process for the predictions has started, but that''s effectively just the equivalent of a popular vote; it doesn''t really mean anything until the actual voting day. I said this thinking he was referring to that but, it seems he was unaware of the actual process. Thankfully, when I made the contract with him I was specifically thinking about the actual voting day... not that anyone can cast a vote for predictions except those in power. But this begs the question, the power of interpretation and contracts. I lied to him and the other brat about the definition of ''tonight'' during that night. But... I can''t help but think that they might have done something underhanded with their conditions. Could there possibly be a way they lied? No...At least I don''t think so? How? I paid attention to their wording. I don''t know how else they''d be able to lie to me. As much as I won in that situation, these contracts and interpretations are fickle things.)"
Kito immediately stops. "(But what''s done is done. This is this; that is that. As such, I must accept the situation, and face that hurdle when it presents itself. Meandering in worried thought rarely produces results, especially over things that have already gone into effect. It''s all a distraction. And as such, one must live in the present. And as such.
I must ultimately..
be...
aware.)"
Kito looks around.
.
.
.
Jin is sitting down on a bench. Jin slowly turns his neck towards Kito''s direction, and out of the corner of his eyes, sees that Kito is looking around.
Jin''s fingers begin to curl. His heartbeat thickens.
He begins to text Mishima. "I think Kito is onto me, what should I d-"
Jin''s hands tremble so much he drops his phone.
With stiff lips, Jin wants to curse; nothing comes out.
He slowly picks up his phone, and peers towards where Kito stands.
Kito continues to look around himself with a confused expression. He taps his foot onto the ground. He pauses. He taps his foot again and again. He squints. He slowly puts his grocery bag and box on the ground. He breathes in, then out. In. Then out. And then-
Kito disappears.
Jin frantically presses the send button. But its no use. "(No matter how fast Mishima receives or answers the text, Kito is gone, and probably looking for me.)" Thinks Jin to himself.
"(Maybe I should call- NO- that''s even worse! Think come on, think! If he catches me red handed texting Mishima with these logs, the whole mission will be blown. What do I even do?")
The adrenalin overwhelms Jin''s system. As much as he wants to run and fly or turn on his ki and survive for as long as possible, Jin freezes.
"(COME ON...COME ON! I only have a couple seconds to be alive, and as long as I''m still thinking-)"
THERE''S STILL A CHANCE.
Jin begins to frantically type in his screen.
.
.
.
Blurring past crowds of civilians, Kito runs past them. Any single ounce of the tripower system that he senses, he makes it very clear to himself with one direct goal.
Kill them.
It doesn''t matter if they inexplicably burst into giblets of red confetti. As long as that pestering presence is gone, he''ll be content.
Where are you?
"(I know it. I just know it. Someone has been following me. I''ve been too distracted that I''ve let my guard down. I''m sure of it.)" Thinks Kito to himself.
Passing by the women with a stroller and the kid eating ice cream and the old couple walking and the business man and all of these faceless people, he eventually stops.
Standing right behind a bench, the ogre sees a single man wearing a red hoodie, ripped jeans, sneakers, sunglasses, and a facemask.
Jin slowly looks behind himself. He feels the presence of death clutch onto him.
"(I should''ve known.)" Thinks Kito. "(This man, with the most inconspicuous clothes ever, its so obvious. How stupid could I be. This man, who I saw behind me with the old man yelling at him. I think he was even at the train as well? Of course. Someone so quiet is the perfect culprit.)"
Kito clutches onto Jin''s wrist.
Jin feels a hydraulic press hold onto his wrist.
"I found yo-"
Kito looks at Jin''s phone.
With wide eyes, he couldn''t believe it.
For what was open on Jin''s phone, was a hentai manga in the middle of an overly detailed copulation scene.
Jin simply stares at Kito through his sunglasses.
Kito gives the most confused, and disgusted look he''s ever given.
"P-p-p-privacy, please?" Quivers Jin.
Kito snarls and lets go of Jin''s wrist. He takes off Jin''s sunglasses and facemask. With an annoyed face, Kito then slaps Jin on the back of his head.
"Privacy? Get the fuck out here- privacy?" Barks Kito. "You''re in public! What''s the matter with you?"
People look at the two.
Jin can''t say anything and shuffles his phone in his pocket.
Kito wrinkles his nose. "Disgusting."
Other people begin to give Jin a disdainful look as well.
Jin, feeling his heart explode, feels numb.
A single thought rings inside his head.
Fuck.
This job sucks.
As Kito walks off, shaking his head, Jin eventually regains his composer.
"(Wait a second...)" Thinks Jin to himself. "(For starters, I''m glad that actually worked... but also, I don''t think he recognized me from last time on the rooftop. If I remember correctly, I preemptively turned into an owl before he could actually get a good look at me. And even if he saw me through the sniper scope, I was wearing my mask at the time.)"
Jin touches the small scruff on his upper lip and chin. "(Not to mention, the small details.)" He blinks. "(I hate to admit it but, this is the one time I''m glad I have fast facial hair growth.)"
Jin''s stomach churns. He recognizes this area. If he''s remembering correctly, both Kito and himself are slightly less than kilometer away from the apartment.
Slowly yet surely, Kito eventually crosses an invisible line.
All hell calms down.
『Chapter 31: Surprise』
Kito shakes his head as he walks away from Jin. He puts his palm over his face. "God damn it..." he mutters to himself. "I thought it was some stalker following me but its just some bumbling pervert. Seriously, what a pain. To think that someone would be following me. For what purpose?"
He strokes his chin. He then picks up his groceries as well as the box with the crab. "(No... There''s no way somebody is onto me.)" He thinks to himself. "(There were no civilians at the scene from last night. And the kids know not to get in my way. There''s a chance the Ordinance Academy sent someone else that wasn''t involved in the mission. But they would''ve tried something by now. What if they''re just trying to gather intel? No that''s silly, what would they gain from me on my daily schedule... a lot actually but, even besides that, nothing has happened yet. I''d think the government would already know everything about me by now, so that''s very unlikely.)"
He shakes his head. "(What if it''s just stress?)"
He grits his teeth. The air around him distorts from the brief surge of Ki. "(No. There''s no such thing. To be affected by something that doesn''t exist? Not me. So called ''mental problems'' are created by one''s own mind. I won''t entertain the thought of something so stupid to affect me.)"
His aura suddenly stops again. A mere second''s worth of malice. And without realizing, something so quiet could also be loud. For the very moment his Ki released, 0.9 kilometers away, an alarm was set off.
Atop the roof of a building, not too far away from Kito''s apartment, RUPTURE, in its invisible state, continues to execute commands through handsigns.
The way the mission was supposed to work was for Rupture to set off its plan once it sensed Kito nearby. Though its intention would''ve worked if Kito was closer and had a lowered sense of ki, the fact that Kito, even for a split second, radiated an aura so loud, it preemptively set off Rupture''s senses.
Domino. Domino. Domino.
Through restless, now mangled fingers, Rupture releases the trigger.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A4eB0B-FGOg
Near the apartment, several police officers guard the yellow tape, waiting for further instructions. All of the tenants crowd around. Some students are returning from school, clearly worried about their pets, belongings, and family. Others come back from work, clamoring at the officers, begging to be let in. "My family photos!" They say. "My dog is in there!" Says another.
In the surrounding buildings full of weary people, they gossip and crowd from afar. "Does your phone work?" Asks a person. "Nah, my phone''s out of battery. Could''ve sworn I charged it too..." Responds another. People stare through the large glass windows of the cafes and shops. Others hurriedly walk away, overhearing something about "leaking gas." A news van with a frustrated reporter and a camera man stand nearby. "What do you mean it doesn''t work?" Yells the news reporter. "Fix it!" She demands, yelling at the cameraman fidgeting with the device.
Within a .4 kilometer range surrounding Rupture, the civilians all hear a subtle sound. A buzzing noise, or a quiet static from an old pipe tv. The small crackle of electricity whenever static electricity is rubbed off the screen of old pipe tvs.
"(What is that?)" Wonders an old man.
"Do you hear that?" Says another women to her friend.
"You hear it too, right?" Asks a kid to another kid.
A random teenager looks up into the sky. Confused, he rubs his eyes.
Red clouds. Wherever the sun shines, its light inverts the color of whatever it touches. Quickly. Quietly. All of the people panic, confused about what they''re seeing. People seem to resemble less and less human. Brown silhouettes slowly walk around aimlessly, until they all stop.
As the panic in the heart arises, their minds, in contrast, slow down. Processing information at an altered state.
Perceptions skewed.
Misty eyes.
Downward Haze.
An eager smile, salivating.
That what must be done.
With haste.
The mind is a malleable thing. Psychopower users mold it as such. The more proficient the user, the more brains devolve into a puddy plaything. Fighting sorcerers with Psychopower is effective, though there is always a tug of war between proficiencies. Even those who specialize in one sole element can develop defenses against other specialists. Yet, that is only with the concerns of those who live in supernatural world.
When sorcerers fight each other with Psychopower, they often manipulate certain parts of their mind. That being said, It is very hard to gain complete control over another sorcerer, even with minimal defenses.
Those ignorant however are vulnerable.
As such, humans are nothing but a bunch of clay.
Rupture, like any other competent Psychopower specialist, could already take control of a bunch of people''s minds. Like picking up a bunch of brain shaped rocks on the beach with one hand.
However, through the preparations set by Mishima, the prowess of Rupture''s abilities are magnified. Through the hours of nonstop handsigns, the limited radius of one kilometer, as well as Rupture''s specialization in general, the conditions for a grand scale plan are set with heavy limitations. Yet, the conditions are completed with an even heavier eagerness to please.
Through each condition and through each accomplishment, the rocks turn into gravel. From gravel to sand. One hand becomes two. Two hands become few. Overlapping each other, until it becomes an excavator.
Rupture quietly pants.
A distorted violin erupts through every civilian''s ears. The tune sharpens and whines, winding down into a distorted, spiraling tune. A hard metronome plays alongside it, as well as a clamoring, menacing buzzing. Eventually, the claws of the tune latch onto every civilian''s minds. Everyone stops walking. Everyone stops thinking.
[Mandated Society]
After a few moments, the dolls are walking.
Meanwhile, Kito continues to walk closer.
Every doll quickly takes down the yellow tape in a fixed, rapid pace. Synchronized with the beat of the tune they heard earlier, everyone steps at the same pace. As if a marching band the size of a city block all walked at the same. The synchronized footsteps let off the noise of a giant, building sized drum.
Kito, not too far away hears it. Nae, he feels it. The sensation of such a fierce vibration, as well as distant, slow drumming.
"...What the hell is that?"
All of the police''s cars and firetrucks pull out of their parked spaces. Every civilian makes way for the vehicles. Each vehicle goes its own separate way, accelerating at a normal pace. Every doll then takes its place. Children group up together in friend groups. Adults stand in specific places on the street. The people in the restaurants and cafes all wait for their queue. The old tenants all spread out. Some walk to the park. Others walk towards the grocery store. People returning from work all find a business to spend their time in. A coffee would be typical right about now. The grocery store might still be open, that would be perfect. Heading towards the subway should suffice. Everyone takes their place. Silent, blank stares.
Step. Step. Step.
Every doll, mid pose, waits.
Step. Step. Step.
Kito crosses the .3 radius mark.
.
.
.
Kito hears sudden noise. Nothing loud per se rather, it''s as if it got louder out of nowhere. "(The city is still lively, at least to its typical degree. Nothing out of the ordinary happened yet.)" Kito thinks to himself. "(Except for the noise of the odd beat earlier but, that could easily be something else.)" He digs his ear in an annoyed manner. He closes his eyes. He hears a loud thumping yet again, as well as a cacophony of whirring. He slowly turns to his right and opens his eyes. It''s the laundry place down the road. A couple of people simultaneously washing their clothes, much like any ordinary day.
"(Tsk. I might''ve picked up the noise from some place else...)" He continues to walk forward.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
"(That tends to happen sometimes. I can think I heard a gunshot from inside the apartment, and it turns out its some idiot who set the tv too loud. And at that point, such manners aren''t worth wasting ki over. Best to keep my ears at a normal level than to investigate something that''s completely monotonous.)"
As he thinks to himself, he turns to the corner where his apartment is.
It''s a typical day. The children are walking in groups. Kito overhears them talking about the new Final Fantasy game. A cop strolls by but he doesn''t seem too bothered. There''s a little less cars than usual but, this street is on the edge of the city after all. It''s not like its that busy, compared to the actual center. He looks around. "Hmph."
"Everything seems normal yet..."
He stares at everyone.
The cashier across the street is clearly doing her job. She''s smiling and is polite. But those eyes. Kito then turns around.
That old man. He''s reading a newspaper. "(But those glasses eyes. Is he even reading?)"
Kito stares for 15 seconds. And then the old man looks up.
Their gaze meet each other. Kito''s cat like eyes penetrate through the old man''s soft eyes. And then the old man squints in annoyed fashion, and ruffles the newspaper.
Kito blinks and turns away. "(I see...perhaps staring was a bit rude. But no, something''s not right, I feel it.)"
He looks around. "(There would typically be a group of kids playing basketball right next to the apartment. But where are they now? Something''s off. I''m not crazy.)"
Kito gently lets his groceries down and walks over to a businessman on a phone call.
On the way there, he remembers something from a couple years ago. After he left his parent''s house and was traveling, he remembers his time with the monks. While he was training with them, he remembers something that one of his teachers told him: "every cell tells the intent of your ki."
Kito latches on to the businessman''s head.
Freaked out, the business man immediately puts up his hands. "Woah hey, do you need something?" Yells the businessman.
Kito squints at the man. "(His breathing. His pulse. The beads of sweat forming. The exasperation in the lungs. The adrenaline leaking out of the liver... liver right? Yeah. They all seem real. Even in those glassy eyes. The look of fear can''t be feigned.)"
Kito lets go of the man''s head, and bows. "Excuse me, I apologize for that." He then walks back towards his groceries.
He stares at the apartment building. Kito lays down, and puts his ear to the ground.
"..."
People walk by, looking down at Kito with confusion. Some kid audibly laughs. Kito continues to concentrate.
He then gets up. "Yes... there''s people inside."
Kito gets up, picks up his bag and box and opens the door to the apartment building.
As he enters, all of the dolls'' eyes shift towards the closed door. Slowly yet surely, they make sure to avoid a certain distance from the building.
Meanwhile, Kito presses the elevator door. "But why? What is this feeling? I refuse to believe I''m getting nervous for no reason. That''s impossible. But what could''ve explained the noise from af-"
His eyes widen.
"The vibrations." He whispers. "Then what the hell were the vibrations?"
He looks towards the direction of the outside people.
He stomps.
The elevator crackles for a split second, then resumes its climb.
Through the stomp, he feels vibration of his ki spread throughout the area. Though the larger the area, the more expensive it is, that hardly matters with his specialization. He feels it; the vibrations spread from the ground, to the elevator box, to the cables, to the walls to the floors, then to the ground zero, and finally, outside on the street. People seem to still be living their li-
He stares at the ground again.
DING!
He exits out of the elevator, frantically putting his stuff down.
Two things.
He stomps again.
Mapping the same area, he stares at a single room one floor below him. If he is not mistaken, he sees Mr. Ogawa reading the newspaper.
His heart sinks a bit.
"But Mr. Ogawa is blind."
He turns towards his door.
"What is this." He growls under his breath.
His breathing gets heavy.
Someone is inside his kitchen.
He glares at the door. He sees something glow underneath the door.
"(So its true. Someone is after me. I bet its someone from the Ordinance Academy. And they''re just sitting there, taunting me, waiting for me to come in. The red glow is probably some C4 but, something so small wouldn''t kill me. And besides, they don''t have the balls to blow up anything more than my own room. Even if these people are fake, any damage more than a small bomb would be too big to cover up. And above all else, though the government knows everything about me on the surface, they made a crucial mistake.)"
His breathing gets heavier and heavier. Breathe in, then out. In. Out.
His skin becomes red.
"(You underestimated me.)"
Right as he puts his hand on the door knob, he finally recognizes the silhouette of the figure sitting down in his kitchen.
Were it for the sake of intimidation, or blatant bait, Kito, for a split second, recognizes that figure.
It was a while ago but he remembers. That suit. That composure. The way he sits.
His eyes widen.
"(That government agent!)"
Unfortunately for him, in his haste, he realized the figure too little too late.
KAPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH
An instant pillar of flame ignites the entire building. As the explosion occurs, Rupture''s follows its final command: once the building explodes, teleport back. Rupture vanishes.
Immediately, every civilian wakes up from their stupor. Everyone starts screaming in confusion. Mass hysteria as people run away. They call the cops, of which the phones return to service. The cops turn right back around, also unaware of what they were just thinking about. Debris flies all around, inuring several people. Yet, by some sheer coincidence, its as if the nearest people were still far away enough to not be hit by the explosion itself. By some sheer miracle, no death occurs. Yet, whether it through sheer stress of near death experience, some people remember seeing something red burst out of the flames.
.
.
.
A kilometer away, Nowa sits under a dying peach tree. He sits alone on a hill. The smog of the explosion instantly turns the sky grey. Aside from the distant shockwave, there''s a cold breeze in the air. Watching through binoculars, he sets them down and picks up a peach.
"Well. That''s that."
He picks his phone back up.
In the distance, something thumps closer to Nowa''s location.
"(I get that I technically haven''t been paid yet,)" he thinks to himself. "(But...)"
He presses the "confirm order" button.
"(Fuck it.)"
"(The job''s already done so, I might as well. And besides, a little impulsive spending never hurt nobody.)"
He takes a bite out of the peach.
CRUNCH
He looks down at the peach in dissatisfaction.
"(MMmm...eeewww. That was bitter as fuck.)"
"(This one wasn''t ripe yet. Now that I think about it, I''ve been eating peaches that weren''t ready yet this past week. That''s not... annoying as shit noooo.)"
All of a sudden, Nowa feels something radiate heat behind him. Like a chimney with too many coals inside. A rasping wheeze accompanies the heat, as well the smell of burnt flesh. Slowly, Nowa looks behind himself.
He sees a grotesque, muscular ogre, complete with red skin and charred marks all over his body.
"????. ??????????." Simply croaks the figure.
Before Nowa could even raise his hand, brace himself, or do anything, Kito rests his hand on top of Nowa''s head.
CRUNCH.
.
.
.
Three hours later, a girl is on her way back home from school. She''s weary of the explosion that happened in the town nearby, but otherwise, it was a typical day. She knew that her dad got home early today so, she stayed late for the occult club; as per usual. She looks at the map on her phone. Her route home was blocked due to the incident. She looks around. It''s eerily quiet, and it doesn''t help that the bluish grey sky makes it a bit hard to see. The only thing that can really help her are the orange street lights that are scattered throughout the street, and the flashlight on her phone.
From one street light to the other, she continues walking, looking behind herself every few minutes for obvious reasons.
She pauses. The reception is getting worse. She looks around for another light. In the darkness, she sees a wooden post, but it didn''t illuminate any light. Yet, with her flashlight for a brief moment, she saw something dark on the post. A winding stream of liquid. She looked back at it. She followed the trail up. She then saw something black.
Boots.
She slowly raised her flashlight.
Legs.
She knew she didn''t want to. She didn''t need to.
But she did it anyway.
Hanging from a post, in a fixed, crucified position, was a handsome man wearing black heavy clothes. Blood seeped down his eyes, nose, mouth, ears, and of course, the holes clearly indented into his head.
Dropping her phone, crawling back, no noise escapes her mouth for a couple seconds. She tries to scream.
All that comes out are retches.
Despite the morbid image that ingrained itself inside her head, she couldn''t help but admit that even in death, the man looked peaceful.
She hoped that she could end up like him some day.
.
.
.
Back in Kim''s home, she sits alone, on the couch. She''s wearing her leather jacket as well as her floral sundress underneath. She has black lipstick on her upper lip. The news is on the background, murmuring some news about the explosion, a large beetle, and the rise of online extremist youths and their ideologies.
Yet to Kim, it was nothing but buzzing background noise.
Several unanswered texts. 11 calls that went straight to voice mail. It''s already been an hour after the agreed time for Nowa to meet up with Kim.
Four cigarettes litter the ash tray.
In the back of her mind, she doesn''t want to admit it. Yet, choking on words, something eventually comes out.
"Oh god."
.
.
.
Back in Rupture''s lair, Mishima patiently waits. He stands right next to a large rune that''s underneath Rupture''s cocoon. Another person stands beside Mishima. It''s a lanky man wearing a crimson surgeon smock, dark goggles, a surgical mask as well as grey metal hands. They are also wearing a pin designated to the Glow of the Night Forces.
Out of nowhere, Rupture suddenly pops out of thin air and on top of the rune. Yelps and hollers erupt from Rupture.
"Shhh," soothes Mishima. "You did well. You''re a good girl." Says Mishima in a deadpan tone. "Now, show me where it hurts."
Rupture gestures towards its hands, butt and legs.
The surgeon tries to find the seams of Rupture''s gloves.
"...Where do they start? Can you not take them off?"
"I would prefer if we didn''t take it off, Enori." Says Mishima.
Enori shrugs. "If you insist."
Enori feels Rupture''s hands.
"Several hematomas and severe bruising, minor fractures on the joints and phalanges... I don''t see how I can make this work without getting it out of the suit."
Mishima grimaces. "Well, if its necessary. Just try not to spill as much as you can."
"But of course." Hisses Enori.
Enori''s fingers extend into a scissors, scalpels, and several other tools. He cuts into Rupture''s suit.
Black liquid leaks out.
Three hours later, somebody calls Mishima. He picks up the phone. "Who is it?"
"It''s Keiji. I''m at the police department. They found Nowa''s body hanging from a post. What should we do?"
Mishima''s eye twitches. He''s quiet for a couple seconds.
"For now, just keep it undercover. I''ll take care of it."
"Understood."
*Click*
Mishima sits still. As Enori continues the surgery, he pats Rupture''s head. Mishima keeps a blank stare. "Good girl."
His eye doesn''t stop twitching.
.
.
.
On the opposite side of the world, on the top of a skyscraper, Edward holds the CEO of an insurance firm at gun point.
.
.
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Earlier that same morning, Makoto and Naoki stand in front of Principal Hanayama''s office door.
"Well," starts Makoto. "Are you ready?"
With a tired gaze and a face that wasn''t completely healed yet, Naoki only comments "yeah."
『Chapter 32: Left alone』
11 AM
Earlier, the same day of the apartment bombing.
Naoki wakes up in one of Gretchen''s vats. Opening his eyes, he slowly pushes the lid upwards, and rises above the vat. He sees Makoto, in the middle of dressing up.
She looks back at him as she''s buttoning up her shirt. "Hey. How you feeling?"
With tired eyes and a slacked jaw, he responds: "Emotionally or physically?"
"All of the above. Come here," says Makoto, motioning over with her hand.
Naoki crawls out of the vat wearing only his underwear. He walks up to her.
Makoto grabs onto Naoki''s face, looking all over.
She inspects Naoki''s popped eyeball. It''s clearly healing, however, its slightly discolored and the iris is slightly misshapen. She then opens Naoki''s mouth. The teeth are starting to form again, though clearly still in the beginning stages. One of his cheeks is still somewhat swollen. She circles around him. There''s still several yellow and purple blotches peppering throughout Naoki''s body. No bones sticking out, thankfully. Yet Naoki''s arms and legs are slightly crooked in some places. She hugs him. "Oh Naoki."
His tired eyes simply stare out into space. "It still kinda hurts but overall, the pain is getting bearable. My head still feels fuzzy, but a lot better compared to last night."
"Right, sorry," says Makoto, pulling back from the hug. "Is there anything else?" She continues.
Naoki pauses for a while. He eventually goes to his cubby, dries himself up with a towel, and starts dressing himself up in his uniform. He finally responds. "Where did the others go?"
"It was just you and me and when I woke up. I''m assuming they went back to their rooms already."
"...Ok."
"How are you feeling?" Asks Makoto.
"I don''t see the point in talking about it. What''s done is done and quite frankly, I don''t know what to do about it. I just want to get the contract over with."
"Right, the contract... and what then?"
Naoki looks at the ground and eventually responds. "...I don''t know."
They don''t say anything for a couple seconds, until Makoto starts up again. "Why don''t we just go to Principal Hanayama now to fulfill the conditions."
"Ok." Simply says Naoki.
Trudging through the winding halls, Makoto and Naoki pass through a couple of people. In the middle of the quiet walk towards the principal, Naoki recognizes Saizo''s dorm. A malicious aura radiates underneath the door.
Eventually, Makoto and Naoki stand in front of Principal Hanayama''s office door.
"Well," starts Makoto. "Are you ready?"
With a tired gaze, Naoki only comments "yeah."
Both of them knock on the principal''s door.
"Enter." Commands the Principal from within.
Upon entering the principal''s office, both Naoki and Makoto notice two unfamiliar things. One of them is that the principal is wearing a suit for once rather than his typical kimono. The other is that he has a small television on top of a cart standing right next to his desk.
"Ah, it''s you two," says the principal. With only a mere glance at the students, he immediately goes back to writing a paper.
"Is it about the contract you two told me about last night?" Asks Hanayama.
"Yes," say the two.
"Alright." Hanayama stops writing and looks at both of them. "Before we get any conditions down, I need to understand everything."
Naoki starts. "To reiterate, in order to spare Makoto, the the other three vessels, and my life, I made a contract saying that us five will vote for Kito for mayor."
"You made the contract? Or all five of you?" Asks Hanayama.
"Just me and Naoki," responds Makoto. "The other three were unconscious."
Hanayama squints. "Then how are the other three involved in the contract if they''re unconscious?"
Naoki continues. "So for the sake of the contract, we explained to him that we''ll use the system and contract put on to them when they signed the contract to work as a vessel for the Ordinance Academy. Since we overlook the vessels, they have to say what we do. So in this contract, by using the ability to report them, that would force them to vote for Kito."
Hanayama strokes his beard. "But you know that would have to eventually go through me, right?"
"Yes." Says Naoki.
"So you lied."
"I didn''t lie. I was just taking advantage of something he didn''t know. And by extension, he didn''t add a stipulation on the contract saying I can''t explain it to anyone else."
Hanayama smiled. "Not bad, boy."
Naoki keeps his tired stare.
"What else did you tell him," asks Hanayama.
"Another part of the contract is that Makoto and I, had to vote for him."
Hanayama''s smile evaporates into an annoyed pursing of the lips. "Well, not sure if there''s much I can do there. I could try to say that your two votes are null and void since you two aren''t technically citizens, but I''m not sure how that would affect your contracts, nor if I even have the power to enforce something like that. Again, I may have complete power over in this school, but in terms of actual favors? Its the conservatives that have that in spades. Asking to grant you temporary citizenship to vote is one thing. Asking to manipulate actual votes for the sake of protecting you two doesn''t matter as much to them. Now, if they know that this guy is a terrorist, something will happen... but that doesn''t involve you. So we''re going to have to play this one safe for this one. Besides, its not like he''s going to win with a two vote lead, so it''s no big deal."
"Fair enough," says Makoto.
"Is that all that he asked of you two?" Asks Hanayama.
"Yes," says Naoki.
"Alright. Then what did you ask in return?"
"That he spare our lives."
"That''s it?"
"Well, he added another condition to our condition. He said he''ll spare our lives ''tonight,'' under the definition of until midnight that night."
Hanayama winces. "So despite that, you two are still under his threat."
"Well, no," says Makoto. "He still needs all of us to vote for him if he wants it so badly. What would be the point of sparing us if he would do that before we could even vote?"
"Though that is true, he could keep that as a sort of cautionary opportunity. Such as in the case that you bump into him in a future date and you fight back, he won''t be threatened by the contract since he got rid of the condition that night. He''ll lose his vote but at the same time, if you''re proving to be an annoyance to him, he''ll have no penalty for killing you. Not to mention, after the voting process ends, what then? He could get rid of you two if he ever bumped into you."
Makoto sucks some air. "Damn. That''s pretty cautious."
"Yeah. Anyway, is there anything else he mentioned?"
"No." Says Naoki. "Should we start the actual process of getting rid of the condition now?"
"We shall." Says Hanayama.
Both Naoki and Makoto stand up. "Principal Hanayama," starts Naoki. "As overseers for the vessels ''Saizo,'' ''Viral,'' and ''Ken,'' during our previous mission, Makoto Yatagarasu and I, Naoki Miyamoto, would like to request that you give the vessels the ability to vote for the upcoming Kyoto mayoral election."
Hands clasped together, Hanayama sternly stares at the both of them and responds. "As principal of the Kyoto campus for the Ordinance Academy, I deny your request."
"I understand." Says Naoki. "Hang on a second," continues Naoki. "Kito did mention during the contract that Makoto and I had to do everything in our power to have the vessels vote. So, though we went directly to the principal to resolve this issue, it might not be completely safe yet. Thus, I''ll clarify for the sake of the contract. Please?"
"...No."
"Alright. Well," says Makoto, as both her and Naoki sit down. "That takes care of that issue. Now we just have to vote for election day. Say, what''s with the tv?"
"I''m watching the news. With this guy running around, I''m actively keeping an eye out. I doubt he''ll get interviewed soon but, if there''s a terrorist running around, we''ll need to get rid of him. Just the matter of planning and resources. We have enough students here but they''ve already got their own cases to take care of. Not to mention, places still need to be patrolled. We could dump all our eggs to hunt this guy down, but it''ll be chaos everywhere else."This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
"Then why don''t you hunt him down." Says Naoki.
Makoto glances at Naoki, before quickly looking at Hanayama. "(Shit)." She thinks to herself.
Hanayama grimaces. Air escapes his nose.
"Boy." Grumbles Hanayama.
"I''m just saying. You''re the strongest in the world, right? So why don''t you-"
WHAM
Instantly, Naoki is telekinetically yanked off his chair and slammed to the wooden wall. "GUHAH-AHHHH!" Yells Naoki, as air escapes his lungs.
"I may be the strongest* but, I''m still an old man. I can''t go out there doing all of your jobs just because you''re too weak to do it. My strength only goes so far. Same thing with Taberu or Django. They''re strong, but they all have their own responsibilities. For Django and I, we have to stay here to protect the school."
Makoto looks at Hanayama''s sheer strength. "(Damn.)" She thinks to herself. "(I have a lot to catch up to. And more importantly...)"
"Hey, chief" Says Makoto to Hanayama.
"Naoki didn''t mean it. Let him down. He''s just a kid, remember?"
"Hmph." Grumbles Hanayama. "You have no right to tell me what to do. But, you have a point."
Naoki falls to the ground. He gets on his knees, gasps for air and looks at the two of them. "Oh yeah? Then what about Christmas? We were attacked and you guys didn''t do anything. The students had to take care of them."
"That''s because they were weak." Says Hanayama. "If we knew that you students couldn''t take care of them, then we would have stepped in. But though you may not realize it, despite being unknown to the grand majority of the world, there are still idiots who try to seize our power. Whether it be the Americans, or even people closer to us. If I''m gone, half of the school''s defense is in jeopardy. If Django is gone, same thing. You all can protect yourselves, but an entire school? I only wish."
Hanayama gets up from his chair and walks over to Naoki, who''s still on his knees. Naoki grits his teeth.
"Naoki, I''ve been alive for over a hundred years. I''ve been the principal since even before Naota was alive. These are my decisions because I''ve lived through it all, so unless you''ve experienced something that I haven''t, I think I know what the fuck I''m talking about."
Naoki looks down and says nothing.
"That being said, you should rest up and find a way to continue the case whatever way necessary. I don''t expect you to solve it tomorrow, but time is ticking. That is, if you''re strong enough to continue."
Naoki looks up. He sees Hanayama''s hand go near his neck. Makoto from afar, grips the chair''s armrest.
"If you want to give up, I don''t blame you. However, if you''re too weak to continue, then do us all a favor, put your neck forward, and relinquish your right to live."
Naoki narrows his eyes. A couple seconds pass. He hesitates. He grimaces and slaps Hanayama''s hand away. "I''ll do it." Responds Naoki with a scowl.
"Hoho, what a way to respond." Says Hanayama with a sneer. He walks back to his desk and sits down. "I like your attitude when you''re angry rather than a mopey loser. But be warned, next time you respond with that tone."
His smile evaporates into a stern expression. "I''ll kill you."
Hanayama waves his hand. "You both are dismissed."
Makoto runs over to Naoki and picks him up. Naoki shakes her help off. "I''m fine." He grumbles. Both of them leave.
The office doors close.
Hanayama leans back in his chair, sighs, and shakes his head. "It might''ve been hypocritical. On the other hand, I don''t know a better way."
.
.
.
Naoki storms off as Makoto follows him from behind.
"Fine then, if you don''t need my help then just say so." Angrily says Makoto. "But the more you push people away, the lonelier your life will get."
Naoki shoots back a scowl. "Isn''t that the fucking point?"
Makoto growls and grabs Naoki by the uniform. "Listen asshole-"
She looks at Naoki''s cold, dead eyes. A face so malicious, so unwelcoming, yet also unexpressive. She feels her middle fingers extend. She looks down at her hands. Naoki has already grasped onto her middle fingers, threatening to pull them back so far they break off of their sockets.
She shoots back a grimace, staring into his eyes. Contesting to see through this mask.
"Do it." She says.
They stare.
Naoki lets go, turns around, and walks away.
"Tch." She scoffs and walks away.
.
.
.
Hours pass.
Makoto, who has been avoiding the vats all day, eventually comes back in. Upon entering, she sees Naoki, resting in a vat with only his neck and head above the liquid. He''s staring at the ceiling. It takes him a couple seconds to look at Makoto, yet his tired expression doesn''t change, and he only goes back to looking back up.
Makoto makes an annoyed face. "Tch."
She slams the door.
Naoki doesn''t say a word.
.
.
.
A couple more hours pass.
Naoki is still sitting in the vat, staring at the ceiling. Drool escapes his lips.
"(Kito.)" Thinks Naoki to himself. "(How could I be so stupid. Someone that strong. Someone so calloused. Of course something was suspicious about him. But I didn''t even sense an ounce of ki within him when I shook his hand. worthless. And if he could hide his presence that well, then who knows what else he can do. Was he even using all of his abilities against me? worthless. Did he even use any abilities? worthless. Was I so weak that it wasn''t necessary to do so?)"
In the back of his mind, a quiet word whispers a phrase.
"(And I''m back to square one. I still haven''t proven him wrong. He''s not wrong about men. Man is conflict. It''s in our nature to fight for any reason. And these people and their loyalty. Loyalty is a fickle thing. I wasn''t all that close with Kito, but I still trusted him to be a normal, albeit cynical person. worthless. And now he risked me and my friend''s lives. And though I didn''t know that spirit, someone dying at the end of the day is terrible.
I used to hold the belief that spirits dying wasn''t completely a bad thing. But I only ever killed spirits if they were outright malicious. Though its not enough to judge Saizo''s friend as evil or good, I know that our fight was a misunderstanding. And now he''s dead. worthless. I didn''t know him but, at the same time, I can''t help but feel like if it weren''t for me being there, and we just traded groups, things would have ended up differently.
Speaking of loyalty, that stupid geezer Hanayama, treating me like that. I asked a simple question and he slams me to the fucking wall. He threatens my life and of course, like the subservient little bitch I am, I chose to continue. worthless. How loyal. Though, it''s not like I can say no. It''s my job; my existence. There''s nothing stopping him from killing me, aside from my use to him and the Academy. How loyal. My contribution to this country sure is fucking worthwhile. And despite it all, no matter what he says, my hesitation, my inadequacy, my failure to realize and to stop Kito, much less one of his men. I really am-"
"Worthless." Says Naoki aloud.
"(And yet, Kito is still right. It really does some like being cynical helps you. To hell with the tofu passing and vegetable eating animals. We''re all a bunch of creatures living for our own sake. The boat will always be rocked. True loyalty doesn''t exist. There are no friends nor family, only people reciprocating favors and feelings. We are all ultimately alone. The cynical way is the optimal way to live. It is selfish. It is calloused. But that doesn''t matter, if at the end of the day-)"
"He won." Croaks Naoki.
"(There is good and there is evil. It''s just that it doesn''t matter if one of them always prevails)."
Makoto enters the office. Sweating and with twitching motions, she frantically takes off her clothes and gets back into the vat.
Her pain immediately subsides, quickly calming down.
Both of them look out into space. One of them unintentionally, and the for the sake of ignoring.
"Makoto." Says Naoki.
She doesn''t say anything.
"I''m sorry." He says. "I shouldn''t have taken my anger out on you."
"Well I didn''t ask for your forgiveness," says Makoto.
"..."
He stares out in the open.
"But you still got it anyway," he says.
She gives an annoyed glance to her brother. She sees that her brother isn''t snarking, nor pouting, nor grimacing.
He''s dead.
Emotionally, spiritually, physically, drained.
She hesitates but doesn''t say anything.
"Makoto." Says Naoki. "I almost put my neck in his hand."
She stays quiet.
"You don''t need to say anything. I''m just rambling.
...
I''m scared.
Of course I wanted to run away.
Not to save myself and make it someone else''s problem, because that''s the wrong thing to do. But because I''m too weak. I don''t know what to do. I don''t know how we could physically stop him. I just...
I think I''d rather be ____.
Sorry for pushing you away.
I would just prefer not to drag you into this. I already did it once, and look where it got us.
Makoto.
I don''t want anyone else to get hurt."
Makoto sighs.
She crawls out of her vat, walks to Naoki''s vat, and hugs him from behind.
"Naoki, I think it''s a little too late for that."
Their cold bodies warm each other up within the liquid. She holds onto his hands and rests her chin on his shoulder.
"You may think you''re doing them a favor, but pushing people away will only make things worse for you, and for them.
Naoki, I want you to listen to me, and listen to me carefully.
Until you can confirm that all of us are dead,
you will never be alone."
Something wet goes down Naoki''s cheek.
.
.
.
About an hour later, both Makoto and Naoki are sitting in the cafeteria. They''re eating an earlier dinner. Naoki has a sandwich and tea, while Makoto has tonkatsu soup. Makoto strokes Naoki''s hair. He gently smiles while still looking down.
A tv within the cafeteria has the tv on. A bright flashing yellow and red appears. Both of them immediately look up.
"Makoto," says Naoki. "Turn up the volume."
"-is just in, a giant explosion at the Happy Mountain apartments in Kyoto was recently caught on tape. Reports are saying that the explosion was caused by a gas leakage within the building. There''s damage to other buildings as well as debris and several injuries, but by some miracle, nobody has died from the explosion."
Naoki and Makoto both share a look of confusion and worry.
"There didn''t seem to be any civilians inside the building at the time- except for one. Despite the burns the person refused to be taken to the hospital and insisted in coming up to us."
Naoki''s eyes widen. His heart sinks. He tries to say something yet nothing comes out. Makoto holds him.
"The victim happens to be one of the people running for mayor in the Kyoto prefecture, Ushiyama Kito. Sir, are you sure you''re fine with being interviewed?"
"Yes, I''m fine for now." Says Kito.
"Please, tell us what happened?"
"Well, I was coming home from a hard day at work when all of a sudden, right as I opened my door, the entire building exploded. Yet by some sheer miracle, I saw Kami-sama. I was up in the clouds, and they said to me, ''now is not your time. You still have business on Earth. Do not come back, until you have succeeded.'' With their blessing, I came out of the pillars of flames on fire. By Kannon''s blessing, she, along with the firefighters and policemen who risked their lives to help me, saved me and put out of fire."
Kami-sama is the closest thing to a westerner''s translation or interpretation of "God" in Japanese culture.
Kannon is the Japanese name of the Bodhisatva or deity of compassion in Buddhism. They also go by the name "G/Kuanyin in Chinese or Avalokitesvara in sanskrit.
"That''s incredible Mr. Kito. By any chance, could you-"
As Kito and the news reporter spoke, Kito kept blinking in odd, rapid intervals.
Naoki squints his eyes. "W...wait."
He recognizes the manner.
He stares into the screen in disbelief. "Makoto, rewind a couple seconds."
She does so and restarts the clip.
-- . . - / -- . / .- - / - .... . / -... . .- -.-. ....
Naoki, falls out of his chair and holds his chest.
"Naoki, what is it? What happened?" Asks Makoto, her breathing also haggard.
After stammering for a bit, Naoki let''s it out.
"Meet me at the beach."
『Chapter 33: Towards the precipice of defeat』
Earlier
Kito, tall, firm, and burnt, stands over Nowa''s fresh corpse. He strokes his chin and stares at the body, thinking to himself.
"(Now... was that really worth it? Sure, trying to find a trace of ki around the city while running and mapping did lead me to him. But, that, on top of the blast, took a decent chunk out of my ki. If I didn''t outrun the initial blast, that would''ve been a lot more cumbersome. But the other issue was the rest of the damn building exploding.)" He checks his skin.
He looks at his reddened and charred flesh. Excluding the blackened surface of his arms and a partial bit of his face, he could tell that the damage is mainly just first degree burns. Otherwise, no significant damage.
He tilts his head side to side. "(Not the worst thing ever.)"
"(But at least with this,)" he thinks, picking up the corpse, "(I can rest easy...for now. A temporary victory for sure. Now... what to do?)"
He notices Nowa''s bag on the ground. Kito walks over and inspects it. The only thing he could find was a puddle of useless, pink sludge. With a disgusted face, he tosses it to the side.
Kito then picks up Nowa''s phone on the ground.
"(This could prove useful,)" thinks Kito initially. But after a couple seconds of pondering, he comes to another conclusion. "(Nevermind, that''s stupid. First of all, I don''t know the password-)" He then looks over at Nowa. "(And even if the OA is capable of facial recognition in their technology, I think a guy with holes in his head wouldn''t fare well. Additionally, I can''t just take this to some phone repair shop. The OA would instantly know what I''m trying to do. And I don''t think an agent''s phone is capable of being hacked by some rinky-dinky hacker. Tch. And lastly, the longer I keep this thing, the more it''ll act like a tracking device. Especially with what happened, that damn government worker would be able to figure me out soon.)"
Kito crushes the phone in his hand.
Looking back at the distant flames of the explosion, the corners of Kito''s lips perk up.
He grabs Nowa''s corpse, twirls it around and lets go until it''s caught on the top of the dead peach tree. The scant amount of leaves as well as the thick branches barely hides the body.
"I''ll be back for you, so don''t move," says Kito with a sneer. "I''ve got something to do real quick."
Quickly sprinting back to the apartment, though not as fast as when he initially burst out of the explosion, he blurred past the firefighters, police, and civilians. He then made very sure to take a deep breath, and waltzed right into the burning building.
"(Man, fire is real annoying. The damage isn''t the issue... it''s the other part that''s the big problem,)" thought Kito to himself, forcing his lungs to expand to their fullest.
He walks into what used to be the main office. The flames are so tall and vigorous, that despite being only 15 feet away, the firefighters can''t see him through the wall of smoke and fire. Kito smiles, strolling through the burning scenery. He drags his finger across a burning desk. With his finger, a cluster of fire, distracted by Kito''s presence, follows his appendage. Crawling up his finger, the string of fire coils around. Roping the combusting particles as a string, Kito grabs a hold of the rope, and wraps it around the rest of his fingers, concentrating it into his hand. His flesh is consumed by the heat. He is unbothered.
"My, I don''t have a mirror with me. Well, let''s just hope I''m a good of an actor as I think I am." He sarcastically says to himself, hoping someone so close could hear him.
He lowers his ki output while also controlling his nerves to not feel any pain.
With the concentration of fire in his hands, he rubs the combustion all over his face. A dab of flame here. A nice burn mark on the face would look more convincing. Yes, that''s right. Perhaps a bit on the neck too, no?
Continuing, Kito dragged along an ever bigger bundle of flame. Contorting it with his hands, he shapes it into a loofa. Scrubbing onto his arms, legs, and neck, his skin sizzles. Boils appear.
"Now then, the real test." He whispers.
Running out of the building at a normal human''s pace, Kito screams at the top of his lungs. Grabbing onto his face and frantically flailing around, the firefighters, police, and medics rush over to him. The firefighters can''t necessarily extinguish people, but they yelled for him to stop, drop, and roll. Kito does so, and immediately extinguishes the fire. He crawls on the ground and rests on his knees, even patting on some parts that were still on fire.
The paramedics run over to him, immediately trying to diagnose the damage upon his flesh. They ready their tools, and get their tepid water to irrigate the burn, yet Kito softly shoos them away.
"What do you mean?" Yells one of the medics. "Sir, we need to help you! You''re in no condition to-"
"Step aside. I will only accept help once this business is over with." Calmly responds Kito.
Feeling the eyes of the news reporters, and seeing the camera pointing at him from afar, Kito smiles and marches forward. The medics try to hinder him, trying to take him to the ambulance, yet he pushes them off.
"(They caught that? Good. Now on to step 3.)"
Frustrated, the medics let him go. He seemed conscious enough to deny help, so with that, they can''t do much despite their feelings.
As the news crew set up everything, asking the camera people if they got the explosion, as well as the survivor, Kito walks up to them. The news reporter looks at him with shock and awe.
"Wha- I... did you-" stutters the news-reporter.
"Yes. Now, I''m ready for my interview." Simply says Kito. "I''m Ushiyama Kito, by the way. I am running for mayor of Kyoto. The rest, I shall explain once the interview starts."
And with that, the broadcast goes live again.
Millions of people all over the country watch the news. From those within Kyoto, and even reaching the humble outskirts of towns. People witness Kito, and can''t help but feel a warmth towards him. A tragic figure, yet a captivating presence. What a man.
Of course he gained even more attraction from the followers he knew, such as Bara, Daiki, and Kasumi.
As well as the attraction of others that he didn''t expect. Such as the likes of former gang members, and certain shut-in extremists.
On the contrary, people who are against him see this, and are immediately alarmed.
And hours later, those with even greater power see this and realize their failed attempt at his life.
Two hands, laying domino after domino. Carefully making sure not to break their own, while slapping away at the other hand.
Who''s hand shall knock over the other''s first.
And more importantly,
who''s pieces will fall harder.
.
.
.
An hour after the broadcast.
Naoki lies in his bed, staring at the ceiling.
"(The ideals he''s taught me,)" thinks Naoki. "(Of doing the right thing. About how as long as evil exists, there will always be people like us who exist to purge it.)"
He turns to his side. A bothered look besmirches his face.
"(Yeah right.)"
"(I''m only one person. And though there are plenty of other people, I hate to admit it but, the definition of ''good'' differs from person to person. Saving anyone regardless of what they''ve done in the past seems virtuous. But that can lead to a slippery slope. They can be punished for their crimes later. But look what happened a couple months ago. The mercenary, with the special forces and his terrorist team, up in the bank. I never found out what happened to him. And though I beat him, I''m not sure he''s facing the exact justice he deserves. Not to mention, the main perpetrator wasn''t him- it was the CEO. The CEO dared to put the lives of his employees in danger, just so he could get a massive insurance check. I''m not even sure if his employees got paid for that.
I''m not saying that just for one instance, I should give up.
But.)"
Naoki''s muscles relax.
"(It''s hard.
It''s hard to care anymore.
There will always be evil.
And though there will always be good,
I don''t really see the point.
Why shouldn''t I do what I please.
Taberu does it. Makoto does it, to an extent.
It takes effort to be a good person.
Some will argue that its the bare minimum.
But if you could profit off of the simplest of actions, and get away with it,
why wouldn''t you?
If there''s a hateful bigot that deserves to get punched in the mouth.
And you could get away with it.
Wouldn''t you do it?
Let''s say there''s a corpse holding onto a suitcase full of money.
And in this hypothetical scenario, you know for a fact that you could take it with absolutely no way of getting in trouble
Wouldn''t you?
I find it hard to believe that an average person would say no. Yes you would. Yes you would.)"
Whether you want to be noble and say its for your family and friends, or be selfish and honestly accept that its only for yourself, it means very little. What matters is that something typically seen as immoral is optimal. And doing anything otherwise is stupid.)"
He turns around and faces his desk. On the side of computer lies a small compartment meant for books. He stares at it. Among the plentiful amount of comics, lies a couple of philosophy books. He stares at one that he tried reading a while ago. It''s from a particularly famous German philosopher from the 1800s.
He sighs.
Every time he closes his eyes, the terrible image of an ogre appears.
He frowns, yet softly accepts the image.
"I think I''m starting to understand where you''re coming from."
Knock knock knock
"(Damn it.)" Thinks Naoki to himself, rolling his eyes. After rocking himself back up, he walks over to the door and opens it.
In front of it is Yamada. He''s returning back to his normal brown shade, ever since he molted when he fought Saizo.
"Oh, Yamada." Says Naoki, pleasantly surprised.
Yamada''s mouth twitches as he saw Naoki in his current state. Though he''s been healing in the vat for several hours, the discolored eye, old bruises, and miserable spirit are apparent to Yamada.
"Oh Naoki," says Yamada. "Are you ok?"
"No. I''m pretty fucking far from ok." Instantly remarks Naoki.
"A-ah. That is... fairly obvious. My bad." Says Yamada, looking down.
"But, I appreciate you for asking," says Naoki, looking up with a smile. "Come on, lets go talk while we walk. I don''t want you seeing the mess in my room."
"Of course." Says Yamada, letting Naoki out the door.
"So, what brings you here?" Asks Naoki.
"I heard a lot from the others about last night. You were busy healing in the vat and talking to others so, I decided I would talk to you later."
"So you come to me when I''m resting instead."
"Exactly."
Naoki groans. "Well, at least you care."
Yamada forces chuckle. "It''s not like you saved my life or anything. I think checking up on you is the least I can do."
Naoki smiles. "You don''t have to do that but, thanks again. Anyway, how about you? What have you been up to?"
"I''ve been playing Tekken ever since you left me with the console."
Naoki pauses and looks at Yamada with the oddest stare.
"The... the entire time?" Asks Naoki.
"The entire time. Now- granted that sounds terrible and unproductive. However, I can assure you that I''ve taken everything you said into consideration."
From one of his arms, Yamada produces a notebook. As he hands the notebook to Naoki, a couple of pages flip outwards. Naoki''s eyes widen, as he skims through the notebook. The notebook already has half of its pages written and in a worn state. Diagrams take up entire pages. Countless of tables full of record times, steadily bettering as each page goes on. At least eight essays that seemed to be Yamada''s notes and thoughts rather than a real cohesive argument.
"What...what is all this?" Asks Naoki.
"While I was playing, I studied the frame data by altering my perception and focusing on my senses by using ki. It took me many times but eventually, I got the correct timings down after the third or fourth try. After this, I slowly started to understand the nature of neutral. When I should approach the enemy, when I should be patient and have them come to me. When to throw a launcher, when to simply poke, et cetera. I paused the game for a bit to take my hypothesis to the gym, and experimented them for several hours. I wrote my conclusions, thoughts, things I needed to improve on, why the approaches did or didn''t work, and overall, it was just a massive training lab."
Naoki, surprised, as much as he was proud, smiled widely. He lightly punches Yamada''s arm. "Not bad Yamada. Not bad at all."
Yamada''s cheeks turn into a rustic color as he turns away. "Well, I couldn''t have done it myself," he says, returning a pat back to Naoki.
"OW-" Screams Naoki. "I''M NOT DONE HEALING."
"AH- I''M SORRY!" Responds Yamada.
After resting for a bit, Naoki purses his lips.
"What''s wrong?" Asks Yamada.
"Well my back still hurts so, that''s one thing."
"Again, I''m sorry. But what''s the other thing?"
"Well, it seems I''m losing a battle, and not just of strength."
"What do you mean?"
"The guy who beat our team up, Kito. We talked for a bit. I tried proving him wrong these past couple days but, its like the world agrees with him. And its getting frustrating. I know I shouldn''t give up but, the last thing I want to become is another person like him."
Yamada nods. "Ahh, I understand. Well, if it means something, I don''t think life is all about philosophy, nor proving other people wrong."
Naoki rolls his neck. "Yeah, I get that. But this is different. Normally I wouldn''t care about how people live, but when your entire life is molded with these ideals, seeing them shattered, especially to this degree is kind of... its definitely a new experience, I''ll tell you that."The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Yamada rolls his eyes. "Yeah. Tell me about it."
"With that being said, I think there''s something I''m missing. And I feel like learning from others can lead me somewhere."
Naoki hesitates. "(But, asking strangers for advice is what got me feeling this way in the first place too)." Thought Naoki.
"So, Yamada, in your eyes, why should a person be good?"
Yamada is slightly taken aback. "What kind of question is that?"
"Nevermind then."
"No, no, no-" interrupts Yamada. "I''ll answer it, it''s just that it''s very unexpected, especially for someone like you, Naoki. Tell me, if you don''t mind, what makes you ask this?"
"Well for starters, living selfishly and taking advantage of other people would make life easier. I''m not saying straight up murder but, with the smallest of things like stealing and sabotaging others, why would anyone be good, given the choice?"
Yamada blinks and stares at Naoki. "My that''s... a loaded question." The both of them eventually arrive at the cafeteria and sit down.
"To answer your question, let me be honest. I was never really a ''good'' person. For starters, I minded my own business. It didn''t matter what was happening to other people, no matter what it looked like. I always lived with the assumption of ''the police will figure it out'' or ''its not my problem.'' I never harmed anyone, I can assure you. But I never helped anyone either so, my input means very little in that regard."
Naoki glares at Yamada. "So if someone was getting assaulted," starts Naoki in a stern voice, "and you had the chance to do something, you would just leave them, expecting someone else to take care of it?"
"Yes." Simply says Yamada. "Listen to me Naoki. You''re forgetting that everyone else out there don''t have superpowers."
Naoki''s eyes slightly widen.
"If a man has a weapon," continues Yamada, "I would''ve ran from there 100 times out of 100. Nobody''s life is worth risking in that regard. So yes, the best I could''ve done is call the cops, and hope they get saved."
"But, the cops still have to take time to get there. If the person already got assaulted, and its already too late, then that''s on you."
"Naoki, what do you want me, or the rest of society to do in that situation? We don''t have guns. And in a country where people do have guns, the crooks will have guns too. I wasn''t trained to be some savior. So leaving it to the cops is the best I could do. And even then," Yamada''s voice shakes. "Sometimes, the cops don''t come. So afterwards, you just have to live with what happened and move on."
Naoki looks at Yamada with confusion and slight disgust.
Yamada sighs. "Ultimately, it depends on the scenario. We can hypothesize all we want but, at the end of the day, they''re hypotheticals. But, what I am certain is that people like you exist, Naoki."
"What do you mean?"
"You''re a very specific type of person, Naoki. I''m glad that people like you, though rare, exist out there in the world. If it were any other student, I wouldn''t be here. Though I was never saved on time or even prevented from turning into... this. At least, getting saved later is better than never. I don''t have much experience on the saving side but, I''m glad someone still looked out for me. I still hate the situation I''m in but, I''m glad that I could gain something of value still. So don''t give in to these silly thoughts. Just... just keep doing what you''re doing."
Yamada''s mandibles softly perk up.
Naoki, still glaring at the ground, says nothing.
Naoki thinks to himself. "(You sicken me. How naive. How immoral. What a disgusting way of thinking. Depending on other people to save others instead of standing up and fighting for what''s right is how it should be. But at the end of the day, it''s my fault for assuming you''d know anything about that. Yamada, I don''t blame you. You and I have vastly different lives. But at the end of the day, you''re just a coward. I apologize for asking you.)"
"Thanks." Says Naoki, standing up and walking away.
Yamada scratches his head as Naoki leaves.
"(I hope he didn''t misconstrue what I said...)" he thinks to himself.
.
.
.
As Naoki walks through the halls, hunched over and with hands deep in his pockets, he passes Kyouji. Kyouji, with rings around his eyes and a clearly starved demeanor mutters underneath his breath.
The both of them turn around and lock eyes.
"...Hey." Simply says Naoki.
Kyouji walks up to him, and hugs him. "I''m sorry." He simply says. "I''m busy but... but..."
Kyouji then turns around and walks away.
Naoki, clearly confused, scoffs. "(The hell is that all about?)" He thinks to himself.
Kyouji continues walking. Another thing that could have been prevented. Another person that could have been saved. More pain caused by his tardiness.
.
.
.
Walking through the halls, though aching, Naoki still feels an aura. A negative that matches, and even surpasses his own, yet of an alien quality. The door of the dorm belonging to the new vessel. The stench of malice, vengeance, and hate reek from a bottle.
Naoki simply moves on. He has his own issues to ponder about.
.
.
.
Meeting back up, he sees Makoto. She''s out in thick forest of the school. The trees in front of her, bent in half, with sawdust and woodchips polluting the air.
"Oh, I''ve been wondering where you''ve been." Simply says Makoto. "What''s up with you now? Don''t tell its because of that broadcast."
"What gave it away," responds Naoki.
Makoto shakes her head and facepalms. "Damn it man. Look, I don''t know how but... but we''ll find a way to beat him. Ok?"
"It''s not just that. He''s proving us wrong, simply by existing. Mocking us."
Makoto is slightly taken aback. "Proving us wrong? What the hell are you talking about?"
"It''s not a war of just strength. He''s not that dense. He''s trying to convince people of his ways."
Flabbergasted, Makoto simply stands there. "Ok first of all, why don''t we just take a walk and cool down, ok? You''re not making any sense."
Annoyed, Naoki reluctantly nods his head.
"I can clearly see you''re bothered." Says Makoto. "So... what''s with you?"
"What is a good person to you, Makoto?"
Makoto instantly snorts. "Well, that''s one way to start this off."
She pauses. The both of them continue walking through the rich foliage. The sun shines brightly on them. The fresh, clean air distorts around Naoki. After pondering for a bit, Makoto simply looks up and puts her hand above her face, casting a shade over her eyes. Eventually, Makoto responds.
"I don''t know, Naoki. And I''m going to be quite honest with you, I don''t think I care."
She puts her arm around Naoki. Naoki slides himself off of her. Makoto winces in annoyance.
"I know you''re a little shaken up." She says. "But what does this have to do with Kito?"
Naoki explains the same thing he explained to Yamada. The feeling of rendering his existence as wrong, as well as the logical and beneficial means of cruelty. Going beyond what he explained to Yamada, he also told Makoto about his previous talks with Kito.
Makoto, wide eyed, leans against a tree.
"That''s uh... well that''s certainly news to me."
"(Now I understand what he meant when he said he was trying to disprove me and him.)" Thinks Makoto, before talking back aloud.
"Though I don''t exactly think the same way as him, to a certain extent, he has a point."
Naoki wrinkles his nose.
"Oh come on, don''t start with me," he hisses.
"Let me finish," insists Makoto. "I hate the guy but he''s right to an extent. People are selfish. He''s selfish. Hell, even I''m selfish. However, being selfish doesn''t automatically make you a bad person. He''s a bad person because he kills people and works outside the law to gain his ways."
"What about you Makoto. Are you a bad person?"
She squints. "I don''t know. I don''t think I''ve done anything bad yet. All the people I''ve killed were out of self defense. But even aside from that, I don''t think I really care either." She sighs. "Though, don''t worry about it. Look, you''re naive. And that''s not me talking down to you, that''s just literally how these things go. I was there too. But you shouldn''t change yourself just because its the ''optimal'' thing to do. Do what makes you happy. If you genuinely feel like exploiting people for some reason, I''ll be upset, but that''s you. If you feel joy in helping every single person you meet, I''ll still think that''s silly but, seeing you happy makes me happy."
She pauses. She thinks about a talk she had with Taberu a long time ago. She sighs. "No matter what happens, don''t lose yourself."
She then mentally slaps herself in the face. "(Fuck, did I really just say that? God that''s so cheesy.)"
She pats Naoki''s arm. "So don''t stress about it too hard. Or else you''ll start stressing over every single person that opposes you, and that''s just not good in any way."
His face is as still as ever. "I appreciate your words Makoto, but there''s a flaw in there. I know its impossible, and even naive in thinking everyone should do good. But living selfishly only invites people to exploit others. And that''s the thing. I know there''s varying degrees to this, but I feel like even giving an inch with humans will make them go a mile."
She takes back her arm and tilts her head, challenging Naoki''s notion. "So what are you proposing? To control them?"
Naoki thinks for a second. "Yeah... I guess that is a bad idea too."
Makoto shakes her head. "Watch yourself. You can think you''re saving other people with your ideas, yet that''s how people like him pop up."
"Well, what then? What is there to be done? If you control the way society works, then you can prevent people like him from popping up."
Makoto gives a confused glance. "What... What are you saying? Nevermind that. Are you trying to save society here, or are you trying to stop this guy."
Naoki stops for a moment and shakes his head. "Well, of course I''m thinking up a way of stopping him. But if its for the future-"
"Naoki, we''re talking about now." Interrupts Makoto. "Worry about the future after he''s dead."
"I am. I''m actually thinking of ways to stop him. Yet I refuse to stoop down to his level just because it''ll be easier."
"Why not? He''s a fucking asshole who deserves cruelty."
"But if I resort to his ways then everything I stand for will be worthless."
Frustrated, Makoto scoffs. "Oh come the fuck on."
"No, you calm down-" interjects Naoki. "If you don''t want to live a moral life and just do everything by any means, fine, that''s on you. But I actually care for my own sake. I''m not going to be some- some fucking scumbag just because it makes life easier. I''m better than that."
Makoto, puffing air, gets real close to Naoki and presses him. "If you want to be a pretentious asshole then go ahead. But trying to change anyone else- no, better yet, trying to save your own ego over something like this is stupid, plain and simple."
"I''m not sure if you understand. Hell, you might think its real silly. But if I don''t have this," he says, gripping onto Makoto''s collar.
"Then what am I?" Growls Naoki
"A kid Naoki. You''re a fucking kid."
She too, holds on to the back of Naoki''s neck. Her fingers rest on his nape, yet her thumb creeps between the front of his neck, and the side.
They stare at each other. Yet, realizing how this always go down, they let go at the same time.
Naoki looks away and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Thanks for the talk." He stiffly says.
Makoto doesn''t say anything.
"I''ll see you later."
She doesn''t say anything.
He walks a couple steps later, head hanging low.
"I love you," he mutters.
She hesitates, but eventually sees "me too."
A couple steps later, Naoki turns around and yells. "Well? Say it back!"
Makoto whips around. She sees his warped face.
She sighs. "I love you too, Naoki."
His face returns to normal. "Thank you."
As he walks away, she pushes her thumb and index finger up to her brow, looks down, and sighs. A huff of hot air escapes her nose. "God, I hate when he gets like this."
.
.
.
Naoki is out on the field, alone. The only thing to occupy his company is the wind, the dirt and the sand blowing by. He sits on a bench, staring at the sun.
Eventually, someone sits right next to him. It''s Naota Sen.
"Makoto told me you were here. What''s bothering you?" Asks Naota
"I don''t see a point in being good." Says Naoki, not even looking at Naota.
Naota gives him a confused look. "What makes you say that?"
Naoki goes over his examples of how he tried to help someone, and it only hurt more people than helped. Additionally, he repeated what he told Yamada and Makoto.
Naota shakes his head. "I see. Why should a person be good, huh? To tell you the truth, I used to think the exact same thing. If anything, I even began being ''good'' just to prove Taberu wrong."
Naoki looks over at Naota. "So you did it out of spite?"
"Initially, yes. But over time, I saw the value in it, and realized that being the best person you can be is not only necessary, but its optimal."
"Really now? Explain."
"Well for starters, the law exists. At least from what Hanayama told me, for someone like Kito, the only reason he got this far was because he''s got powers. Otherwise he''d be facing the death sentence right now. For normal people who want to do heinous shit, they have to worry about the law. And even if they manage to succeed, they have to look over their shoulders every day. Because as well thought out as they think their plan is, a single detail will always be their downfall. The people who get away with something like murder only exists in movies. Not to mention, if someone wants to find a person, whether it be the police or someone worse, with enough patience and hatred, they''ll find the person, I can guarantee it."
"But what about corruption? What about people who like to use other people for work or advancement in life? Your morals don''t mean much now, do they?"
Naota gives the kid a stern look. "First of all, tone it down. I know you''re upset but don''t take that out on me. Second of all, you''re right to an extent. Even though corruption and scumbags exist in the real world, that only goes so far. Even with corruption, not every person at the top of political power is a conniving cartoon villain. Most of them are, I won''t deny that. But through slip ups and their scandals, there''s still hope. Through the power of newer generations, slowly yet surely, I like to think that we''re making a change to the system.
As for those who take advantage of others, its a shame that it exists. Granted, they''re not murderers or something on that scale. But they''re still plentiful. Maybe their sabotaging their co-worker or friend. But the way you act is how people perceive you. No matter how calloused the world is, humans are social creatures. Just because it happens a lot doesn''t mean everyone agrees with it. So in this case, the scumbag''s coworkers will know the guy is a conniving rat bastard. Do you think people are going to hang out or negotiate with him afterwards?"
"No." Says Naoki, still looking away.
"Well then there you go. There goes his deals, his trust, small things that make relationships work. Whether you want to call it networking, or in olden terms, ''honor,'' that social stigma will stick onto them. And that''ll make life a bitch. I know this is all a very broad topic, but you understand what I''m saying, right?"
"I know what you''re saying, but that doesn''t really change anything."
"I disagree. These types of people believe in the ''dog eat dog'' world. Now I know that its true to some extent, but listen to me. Do you think those people, and especially the so called ''top dog,'' know peace?"
"What the hell are you going on about?" Asks Naoki in a frustrated manner.
"They are all dogs. Chasing, biting at each other''s tails. Plotting with one dog, only to betray that same mutt the next moment they turn their back. Sure, they may have money, possibly power. But bear with me; do you think they have a good standing with their family? Do you think they have fulfilling relationships? Do you really expect their own sons to love them?"
"Probably, not." Sighs Naoki.
"Exactly. If anything, I would expect their sons to plan behind their backs, or eagerly wait for nepotism to kick in and cruise through life."
"Ok but, what if they don''t care for that kind of thing. It''s rare but, heartless people like that exist, and only care for themselves."
Naota nods. "And that goes to my last point. On a pure, practical scale, even with all those risks, even if you''re content with leading a lonely life, filled with greed, content with throwing empathy away... tell me. How far will that get you? You can sprint ahead of this race called life. But eventually, the very moment you slow down, the others who are also rushing ahead, will take every opportunity to bite your ankles and take advantage of you.
As an example, I''m sure you''ve heard of elites who prefer... younger ''partners'', right?"
Naoki stiffens a bit. "...Yeah."
"And among those elites, there was a specific, infamous man. He supplied their ''preferences'' and conducted heinous acts for his rich friends. A vile fucking stain in humanity, no doubt. But thankfully, he went to court, and not even his power could save him there. And you heard that he died a couple years ago, correct?"
"...Yeah."
Naota slowly turns to Naoki. Naoki feels the piercing gaze through the sunglasses. Naoki, shivering, slowly turns to Naota and looks at the sunglasses.
"Naoki," starts Naota. "Do you think he killed himself?"
Stiffened, it takes Naoki two seconds before he could shake his head.
"As I thought. Even at the top of the world, the people you hang out with will dictate your future. Now," continues Naota, "here''s the thing. As much as I''m telling you this, at the end of the day, this is your life. If you want to say ''fuck you'' to my face and my advise, by all means, go on and live that way. However, I don''t know about you, but I care for you. Hell, you can call it weak or naive but I don''t care; I like feeling good. Even if there''s a stranger out in the street, I may not know them, nor what they''ve done in the past. But I''d prefer to live comfortably, knowing I''m doing something that makes me feel warm, and not like some miserable, sniveling rat. But that''s just me. My advice is to think carefully, and live the way you want to live."
Naoki doesn''t say anything for a bit. "(He''s technically right,)" he thinks to himself. "(But there''s still a glaring hole. Something I can''t understand.)"
"That''s all well and good." Says Naoki. "But I just want to ask, why are people like this? What for? If it goes beyond the way the human brain works, then what''s the fucking point?"
Naota sighs. "Kid, I wonder the same thing. Everyone has different circumstances. Perhaps its trauma. Perhaps its because they see it as the easiest, or even ''optimal'' way to live. Competing for resources, for the betterment of life- that''s understandable. But I''ll tell you this Naoki: those people are weak."
Naoki makes a confused face. "Well, I don''t expect cut-throat businessmen to be weightlifters."
Naota shakes his head. "No, no- well, not just that but, those types of people who want to take advantage of others are weak. Mentally, socially, emotionally, and so on. They prefer to take shortcuts, and cast discipline to the wayside. They prefer to take petty vengeance over the smallest of things. And I understand that the world is a bit more nuanced than just ''living honestly and hard work'' because at the end of the day, even that alone won''t get you through life. There will always be some schmuck who cut in line through nepotism. Or a scumbag who gets away with taking advantage of another person. But when the job is done, and the evidence is shown, scum will eventually be cleared. And those who can show their worth will be rewarded.
Strength isn''t just how many people you kill, or how many people you''re able to manipulate. It''s hard to care for others, I know. It''s way easier to say ''fuck you and the world,'' and fall towards cruelty. It''s easy to fall towards temptation and vengeance. It''s the burden people have to endure with relationships. But by enduring, learning, and dare I say, caring for others, you''ll realize that the path of cruelty only takes you so far. Even if you don''t believe in it anymore, the cycle of karma still lingers. Unfortunate things always happens, even to those who don''t deserve it. But by being cruel, you''ll only accelerate a violent consequence. I know this was a lot but all I''m saying is..."
Naota rests his hand on Naoki''s shoulder. The sun behind Naota glimmers. Though a shade casts over his face, his smile is as bright as ever. "Don''t just be strong. Be better."
Naoki''s eyes well up. He hugs Naota. Surprised, Naota hugs him back and chuckles.
Naoki, looking down at the ground thinks to himself. "(You''re not wrong.)" He clutches onto Naota harder. "(But, you''re still not right either. I suppose its just something I''ll have to face myself.)"
"There''s another thing I need to mention," says Naoki. "Did you happen to watch the news an hour and a half ago?"
"No. What happened?"
"Kito. He was on the news, all burnt. An apartment exploded and that''s how he got damaged. Did you know anything about that?"
Surprised, Naota responds. "No. What else happened?"
"He sent a message. By blinking in morse code, he said ''meet me at the beach.'' I don''t know what he wants but I''ve been thinking about it all day."
Naota grips on to his own legs. Silence. Naoki can sense the ground get drilled off of Naota''s piercing gaze alone.
"Wait," says Naoki. "I have a plan. But I need all of you to trust me."
.
.
.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jEnd8JIMii4
An hour later, sunset.
On the same beach where Kito bought him ice cream, and only half a mile away from their first meeting where they skipped stones. The children still frolic. The ice cream vendor is busy as ever. A couple go by, holding hands. The ocean waves crash onto the sand. And a lone bench, posted between the sand and the boardwalk.
Adorned in his typical sorcerer garb, the sun casts a shade over Naoki''s eyes. As he sits down, he drapes his hood over the back rest of the bench. He leans on the bench and soaks up the scene. The sun glares in his eyes. His lips are still cracked. The waves drown out the noise of the people around him. He see the darkness slowly taking over the light.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
A presence sits right next to Naoki.
Without looking, Naoki could tell by the man''s aura that he was smiling.
One of them wasn''t expecting the other to come.
Kito also leans back, crosses his legs, and spreads his arms out on the back rest.
With the orange sunset slowly turning red, the both of them just stare, and soak in the scene.
Silently.
『Chapter 34: You and me』
At a small restaurant, Kasumi Murobuchi slurps on some teriyaki noodles topped with shrimp and eel. Though he is a bodybuilder, because his profession demands that he starve himself for competitions, the fact that it is off-season at the moment means he can finally eat a well deserved lunch; rather than measured fragments of meals.
The cooks are busy in the back. The sizzles of stir fried chicken echo loudly, while the smell of steamed vegetables fill the air. The cashier switches places with one of the owner''s daughters, for the sake of a smoke break. Though the quality of the restaurant is a bit cramped and dingy, the humble environment coupled with the rich aroma of the food give the atmosphere a sense of homeliness. Near the ceiling of the restaurant hangs a small CRT television, around 15 years old. Minor static mars the image, yet the audio quality seems fine for the most part. Kasumi pays no mind to it, until a special red bar appears on the screen catches his attention: breaking news.
Bara Shibukawa is at work. Within the warehouse of a delivery service company, men load and unload bags of cement. Most men shoulder one bag at a time; few shoulder two at a time; only one manages to shoulder eight at a time. Bara Shibukawa, the tallest, strongest, and kindest worker of them all. Despite his strength, all men look at him with admiration rather than envy. "How did you get so big?" Most men would ask. "You are what you eat," Bara would often reply. "I only eat strong animals," he would chuckle, before admitting that genetics also played a factor in his large growth spurt.
Within the midst of working, a crowd of men huddle around a single radio. Various gasps and worried comments escape the lips of workers. Bara, confused by the scene, walks over to them. "What happened?" He asks. A worker turns up the radio; A live radio announcer comments on the scene about a large explosion in an apartment, and the sole survivor of the explosion. Recognizing the apartment and the survivor, his worried and gentle demeanor evaporates. Bara, bearing the expression of quiet anger immediately marches to the manager. "Excuse me sir, I have to leave on an emergency." Leaving work, Bara opens his flip phone and starts texting.
Robert Baskerville is at his house, playing with his toddler son. The house is A small yet comfortable enough space for a family. Though the tv is typically on, Robert rarely ever turns on the children''s channel, preferring to watch European soccer games. Even then, it acts more like background noise while he and his son play around on the floor of the living room. "Georgie! Georgie!" Robert would exclaim, smiling while swinging his son around like an airplane. The childish giggles fill the room, before both of them playfully crash into the couch, bursting into laughter.
All of a sudden, something catches Robert''s attention. Though the tv was quiet, a bar spelling "breaking news" appears. His smile melts into a still expression. Georgie, noticing his father''s attention to the tv, looks back at the tv; Robert covers the boy''s eyes, as a gruesome visage of an ogre sends a message to the camera.
"What''s wrong papa?"
"Georgie... daddy''s going to be busy for a moment. Mommy is coming soon just... you''ll be going with Grandma for a little bit, ok?"
Despite being confused and wanting to ask more questions, Robert hurriedly dresses Georgie up, writes a note, leaves it on the table, and runs out the door towards the end of the block.
"Mother-in-law" says Robert, to an old Japanese woman; her nose wrinkles at the title. "Excuse me but, there''s something I must attend to at work."
"Where''s Hana," asks the lady.
"She''s at school."
"And Matsuri?"
"She''s still working. They''ll arrive home soon enough."
The lady quickly takes the boy''s hand, "come in, Jouji." She says; Robert''s face twitches for a split second.
"Bye papa." Says Georgie.
"I''ll be right back, son. Be good."
Robert then turns around and leaves.
At a rather large gym, full of various people with all kinds of experience, whether it be casual gym go-ers, or professionals in training, a single blotch stains the crowd, that being Daiki Sugimoto. His odd markings drown nearly every inch of his skin, which of course made him extremely noticeable. Yet, very few people have the courage to bother him, considering his hulking physique, or bruce lee-esque lean body, or thick yet rotund build, or the manifestation of the seemingly perfect body; all of which everybody seem to have conflicting accounts of his build. In the middle of him working, he noticed that the people that had smartphones are all glued to their screens. Yet, unlike most other days, where they all seem distracted by it rather than focused, their faces were of horror and concern. Confused by this display, Daiki walks over to one of the men.
"What is the matter?" Asks Daiki in a hollow and warped voice.
The man, having his face switch from worry to startled, quickly shows Daiki the phone.
There, the smartphone shows an article briefly describing the incident. Daiki, noticing the address of the apartment, stares at the phone, before jetting towards the exit. He then finds the nearest pay phone and quickly dials up Kito''s phone.
.
.
.
After the interview is done, Kito excuses himself. The medics with the ambulance glare at him with frustration and confusion. He hops on the ambulance, knowing full well that people are looking. As the ambulance begins to drive, the medics hook Kito up to a bunch of IV bags while examining his body all over. Kito on the other hand, taps away at the walls of the ambulance, mapping the area around the car, "seeing" where the car is going. After the car passes the busy part of town, he loudly exclaims "hold it." He rips off all of the syringes and whips out his wallet. To the medics, they look confused, seeing that the wallet is unharmed from the fire. He then hands the medics a single 5000 yen bill each.
"It''s not much but, could you do me a favor? If anybody asks, say you took me to the hospital. You can drop me off around the corner. I''ll be on my way."
"Where the hell do you think you''re going? You''re in no position to-"
Kito kicks the door of the ambulance as its still driving. The driver brakes hard after hearing the door open.
"Take the money and leave. This is your final warning." States Kito.
Already mentally checked out by the situation, the medics reluctantly scoff, shut the door and drive away.
Kito looks around. He''s at the edge of the city, where the town blends into the suburbs. He sees a tall wooden post. He smiles and makes a mental note. "Hm. Not too far, I know just the perfect place to put him." Something in his pocket vibrates. It''s his flip phone, which aside from a slightly heightened temperature, was perfectly fine. The call is coming from a random phone number.
With precaution, he knows there''s a very slim chance that it''s the Ordinance Academy again; perhaps this time they would use an assassin with a vocal ability. The stunt that caught national attention most likely set something off, and with the government''s resources, they could''ve pulled this off as a sort of second option. Yet, an ability that involved killing someone over the phone must adhere to strict conditions in order to actually kill him. Thus, Kito carefully hangs the phone away from his ear.
"Speak." He demands.
"Boss! Are you ok?"
"Daiki-" says Kito, breathing a sigh of relief.
"I just read an article on someone''s phone. What happened? Do you need anythi-"
"Woah boy, calm down, it''s all over now. By the way, where are you? You didn''t buy a cheap phone, did you?"
"No sir, I''m still saving up for one. I''m on a payphone right now."
"Ah, I see. Good thinking. I''ll explain everything in a bit, but for now start heading to the beach that''s not too far from the harbor. Come immediately."
"Sir yes sir!"
*click*
Kito hangs up and checks through his phone while he casually runs at high speeds. Kasumi and Bara both texted Kito that they were on their way. All that leaves is Robert, but considering his culture, he''s the one who takes punctuality the most seriously.
Eventually, through a mix of running and riding the train, Kito eventually arrives at the beach. As he waits for the others to arrive, Kito takes it upon himself to saunter around and enjoy the scenery until then. He''s had one hell of a day so, some ice cream and a nice stroll should suffice. An odd feeling whelms his senses however.
As he saunters, his eyes dart around. "(Eyes.)" He thinks to himself. "(Many eyes. People are looking... Now, it''s true that I did just appear on public television, and seeing my outfit, as well as the partially visible damage to my face, that would make me recognizable. Yet, something''s off. Someone''s Ki... no, is it more than one? It''s too blurry, too subtle. It''s already hard to mask your presence so it''s either someone extremely weak, or someone who''s experienced in masking their own presence. But, if they were skilled to begin with, then they''d be able to hide it completely, rather than this pitiful attempt at stealth. Perhaps its the others coming back... but that feels too soon. Unless they were close to the beach to begin with. And even then, it would at least be somewhat recognizable.)"
As Kito wanders, looking intently for the source, he manages to stumble upon the boardwalk area. There, he sees a familiar figure. A lean teenager with a black cloak, a long brimmed black hat, and blonde hair, sitting on a bench, staring out at the sunset.
Air escapes Kito''s lips as the corner of his mouth also perks up.
"(No fucking way.)" He thinks to himself.
He slowly walks over to the bench.
"(The source of the Ki... its faint, but most of it is coming from Naoki. It seems his levels are very low; suppose last night took everything from him.)"
Step.
"(This is a trap; probably an illusion as well.)"
After step.
"(Yet even if a lot of my Ki is spent)"
Kito draws closer.
"(No matter what you pull-)"
He stands next to Naoki.
"(I will still be stronger. As such-)"
Kito then finally sits down, crossing his legs, and rests his arms behind the bench.
"(I call your bluff.)"
Silence.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qW3JanrF2rY
The dying sun''s rays grace their skin. The breeze is cool. The water splashes against the sand. People conversate behind them. Children frolic around, squirting water guns at each other. Customers slowly come to the stands for an early dinner.
They sit and stare out at the sunset.
Kito patiently waits, even giving odd squints at Naoki with a side eye.
Naoki, with a slightly crooked neck, simply continues to stare out with dried lips and a slightly opened mouth.
After a minute of being ignored, Kito starts with an annoyed smile.
"I wasn''t expecting you to be here." Says Kito.
With a delayed response, Naoki, still not addressing Kito with a look, opens his mouth.
"Stop lying. I''m already here so we might as well get it over with."
As such, with that first exchange, the fires have been shot. One is grazed with a realization, while the other unintentionally dodges something important.
Within Kito''s mind, his head races.
"(''Stop lying...?'')" Keeping a still expression, Kito ponders. "(''Get it over with?'')" Immediately, stifling down a wicked expression, Kito''s mind forms connections.
"(The broadcast! He thought the broadcast was for him. But that doesn''t explain why he would be here. The OA already knows what I did to him and the others last night. As such, they sent an assassin for me by bombing the apartment. Yet... something like that would have to be premeditated. Plus, it would need a lot of planning to do, especially with so many people in the apartments. But... why would they try to respond with my assault against Naoki and the others with a bombing? The time it would take for them to set up bombs at the apartment would be impossible, since I would be able to sense them, even if I was sleeping. Could it be... could it be that they set up the bombs while I was gone? Was it while I was working? Or was it while-
The fight. They set it up while I was fighting them.
But that wouldn''t make sense? They were trying their hardest to kill us. And I killed that spirit while they were trying to rescue him. At least that''s what they explained. So could it be that they were lying to set the bombing up? But that would be so fucking stupid. To risk their lives to distract me while their meticulous plan could succeed? Besides, the bomber I killed looked nothing like the one''s I fought last night. Granted, every one of them had different outfits. Yet, why would they come at me if my first offense at them was bumping into them last night? I talked to Naoki before last night, but I never hurt him, and he had no suspicion of me-
The government agent.
He... he was suspicious of me for killing the mayor. And then he had that pesky owl try to kill me with the sniper. But if they''re both a part of the Ordinance Academy, what sense does it make for them to come at me at different times with seemingly different means and attitudes? Granted, they could just be relentless, but it seems out of character for them to replace a calculated way of killing me with a sloppy plan. Yet, the one last night seemed a lot more like a coincidence. But that would mean-)"
Kito''s eyes widen. He looks at Naoki intensely. And from the distance, something else stares back at Kito.
"(OA isn''t a single focused group. As such, at least two different forces from the OA are targeting me. And by the looks of it, they aren''t communicating with each other.)"
For the first time that day, Naoki looks back at Kito.
Naoki gasps for a moment, as the diamond pattern eyes stare back at him.
"(The kaleidoscope eyes don''t lie, Naoki.)" Thinks Kito. "(Your face reflects back what I need to know.
Myriad truth.
The nature of the physical world.
I see it all, Naoki.)"
A few seconds before, Naoki''s mind also scurries for conclusions.
"(''I wasn''t expecting you to be here?'' Why would he lie? He''s already got me in a bind, so what else would he want from me? Why would he bluff this hard?
But the bombing. Did he think I did this? No. Even if he seems like a muscle brained guy, he''s conniving enough to set something up like this. I mean, he managed to use the incident as free advertisement for his campaign. Someone fantastical enough to survive a bombing and rile the public with his words would surely get him votes. But why would he willingly take that damage? He can regenerate so, there''s no reason to keep the burn marks unless its for the sake of public believability. So it''s most likely him who did it, because nobody else is in charge of this case aside from our team. Unless a group of rogue sorcerers also have beef with him. In which case he just used the best of the opportunity. Even then, that message. Why would he send that message out during the broadcast? All of it makes little sense. Why would he want anything to do with me right after last night; he already got what he wanted out of me... unless-)"
Naoki''s eyes widen.
"(It wasn''t meant for me.)"
In that moment, Naoki turns to face Kito for the first time.
"I wasn''t expecting you to do something so underhanded." States Kito, continuing to stare while tapping on the bench.
The diamond pattern eyes, surrounded by the shade cast by Kito''s bandana, strengthens its piercing gaze.
"What you mean?" Says Naoki, in the stiffest form possible. He feels the vibrations of the bench slowly crawl around his body.
"Risking civilian lives? Tsk tsk, Naoki. I thought you were the moral type."
Naoki, stiffens up and turns away without responding; his heart races.
"(Oh no.)" Thinks Naoki to himself. "(I''ve already let out too much. I don''t know if the message was for me, but even then, that look... he knows something I don''t.)"
Salivating, Kito stops tapping on the bench.
"(Just as I thought.)" Thinks Kito to himself.
By tapping the bench, the mapping that spread around Naoki''s body allowed Kito to read his heart palpitations.
"(When I asked about the situation, his confusion was genuine. And now that he knows that I know, his heart is racing, and he''s trying to avoid saying anything that would give me a lead. That, as well as his avoidance of the subject only confirms my suspicions. But if my theory of there being more than two forces at the OA is true, then the other force didn''t let Naoki know. Pahaha. What a mess. No matter how hard you try to hide it, I already know what I need.)"
With a worried face, Naoki looks back at Kito.
Kito leans back, arms back to their original position. His eyes revert to their casual poise, looking out at the sunset rather than the intense disposition mere seconds ago. If anything, were Kito a man of vices, his demeanor would perfectly fit a glass of brandy and a cigar. But, Kito does not smoke. And most importantly, Kito does not drink.
At a loss for words, Naoki looks at the water, slowly crawling towards his feet.
"Well... I''m already here." Simply says Naoki. "I uh..."
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
He chokes on his words. Afraid of spitting something out. What the word or words might be, even he doesn''t know. A wave of nausea overcomes him.
"(I
Did I
Did I already lose?)"
His voice shaky, he turns to Kito.
"Are you... are you going to kill me?"
Kito, turns to him with a face of confusion, and scans for a couple seconds, before bursting into a chuckle.
"Pahaha! Are you serious? Of course not. I need you, remember?"
"Oh right... the votes..."
"By the way, about those votes: did you already tell your principal about them?"
"..."
"Come on Naoki, spit it out," chuckles Kito. "No matter what you do or say, I''ll figure it out. Like right now, with you being quiet, it only implies something I won''t like."
"I told him." Says Naoki.
Kito senses Naoki''s heart beat through the lingering map of the bench.
"(He''s not lying...)"
"And? How did it go with those spirits?" Asks Kito.
"They can vote for you, so you''ll get the five votes."
Kito stares out in the open, before turning to Naoki with a soft smile.
All of a sudden, the squawks of the birds, the sounds of the ocean, and the laughs of children are suddenly muted, as Kito''s response silences everything.
"Liar."
Naoki''s heart sinks.
Kito goes back to resting on the bench. "I suppose you already know what that means. That goes for everything else really."
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"No matter what you do, no matter what you plan, I''ve already won. If I see those spirits, I think you''ll know what will happen. So you might as well just wait your days, and continue what you do without obstructing my business. It''ll save both of us a headache."
Naoki sits, defeated.
Silence yet again. As the waves continue to crash, Naoki''s mind tries to race for an answer. Yet, his mind only computes the sound of dead air.
As Kito is about to leave, Naoki asks a simple question.
"Why?"
Kito turns to him. "Why what?"
"Why do you do the things you do? Why is this the way you choose to do things?"
Kito rolls his eyes. "I thought I already told you?"
"No, you only told me within the context of those things and your future plans. But why?"
Kito scoffs in an annoyed tone. "What does it matter? Talking to a corpse is pointless."
"Then would you at least oblige this corpse with one last inquiry? It''s the least you could do."
Kito hesitates. "(By all means, this is a waste of time, and the others are most likely waiting for me. But...)"
Kito turns around, his intrigue rising up again. "(There''s no point in asking these questions. The what and how of what I''m going to do would be important to OA, and though the why part would help them, they already know its because I want to be mayor. Yet, his heart... I can sense it. He''s genuinely curious.)" Kito''s eyes tilt downward, gazing intently at Naoki. "(Though my Ki is low, his is way lower than mine, so anything he does will be caught by me. I already have all the power in the situation yet... if he genuinely wants to know then-)"
Kito scoots closer, folds his arms, crosses legs, and leans back.
"(I''ll oblige him. As a final act of respect, I''ll oblige him.)"
"Rephrase the question, because I can easily just say, why does anyone do anything?" Says Kito.
"Why do you... what''s your logic? Why do you feel the need to hold power over people instead of doing things the right way?"
Kito scoffs at the final part. "Ah yes, I understand now. In simple terms, I was born lucky. My intellect was decent, but what I knew for a fact was that I had a strong body. I eventually learned how to use Ki and from there, I just found it logical to take what I want as long as I''m able to attain it with my hands."
As the both of them look onwards at the setting sun, Naoki''s face contorts into one of disgust. "Youre only saying that because you have a strong body. Take that away and I doubt youd be saying the same thing."
Kito squints at Naoki. "Well... no shit. That is that and this is this; the only thing that matters in life is the present. I don''t doubt that I would be a different person if I was born with a disability. But, that''s clearly not the case. As such, hypothesizing who I would be in a different scenario is fucking pointless. ''Souls'' cant be predetermined. Everyone is shaped by their present circumstances, none of this mumbo jumbo spiritualism or predeterminism. I was born with a strong body, therefore, I''ll make the most of it. And hey, maybe in the next life, those unfortunate souls can be born better. But life is a bitch, and everyone is fighting for their own survival. It would be illogical to simply lower myself to other people''s standards just because society demands social constructs or emotional weakness from me.
Not to mention, in the real world, there is no ''right way.'' Only ways of inching towards what you want, without getting caught or punished. The leaders have the police, the politicians have money, the elites have connections, and none of those things are available to people like us- well, considering your situation, people like me."
He turns to Naoki.
"I''m a god damn fisherman, Naoki." Says Kito, looking intently at his hand. "And I can assure you, I''ll become mayor one way or another; even it means wrenching every single neck in office, until it''s just me remaining."
Naoki, wide eyed, continues to look at the ocean. He wants to say "holy shit." Yet, nothing escapes his lips.
Kito continues to sway his legs forward and backwards. "You''re awfully quiet. Tell me, what''s on your mind?"
Naoki, with dried lips, eventually responds. Im not gonna lie, I kinda wish I wasnt alive right now.
Kito tilts his head. So youre saying youre suicidal?
Naoki shakes his head no; theres a difference between being suicidal and preferring to not be alive at the moment. Its more like I really wouldnt be that upset if something were to happen to me.
Really now. Not even if I had a hand in it? Kito says, inquisitively scanning Naoki''s reaction.
Naoki keeps the dead look on his face.
Kito leans back again, slightly annoyed at the lack of a reaction.
"You already said you wouldn''t kill me, so why would I be afraid of your threats?" Comments Naoki, startling the silence.
"You''re annoying me, so I had a brief change of heart."
"You suck at lying." Says Naoki.
Kito rolls his eyes. "(I hate to admit it but, what I said had a hint of truth in it...)"
"In any case," starts Kito. "Whether you were being genuine or were simply bluffing, in cases like these, everyone has their own prerogative. Kito stands back up again and starts playing in the water. "Despite what I said earlier, I pity those suffering. I genuinely do. They have no right to tell me how to live my life but, it''s still terrible that nature is as cruel as it is giving."
Naoki looks at Kito, with a baffled expression.
"But, at the end of the day," continues Kito. "If it''s your choice to end it, then he shrugs. Then I suppose you werent strong enough in the first place.
Naokis eyes widen. He looks at Kito. What?
Kito shrugs. Logically speaking, if a person chooses to feel demotivated or depressed or, whatever word you want to use, then I think theyve clearly made their minds. Nothing I say will change it. No person with motivation to continue is strong enough to strive in life. As such, I believe they have the right to do what comes naturally. Only the strong survive; after all, they can overcome any obstacles; socially, physically, mentally, etc.
Kito hears something.
Sniffles.
He turns to Naoki.
The corners of Kito''s mouth slightly perk up, his eyebrows raised in bewildered amusement. Pahaheh. No way. Are youAre you crying? Asks Kito.
Naoki looks at the ground. One tear slowly rolls down his cheek.
Why?
Why what?
Why would you say something like that?
Kito sighs and crosses his arms. You can hate me for it but, I only speak in truths. This planet is already full of liars. Politicians, scammers, thieves, and those who prey on the emotionally weak. As such, Ill get rid of those liars by toughening everyone else up. Dont you see? Im making Japan a better place.
Another tear goes down Naokis cheek. A better place? Are you listening to yourself? You''re a fucking psychopath who doesn''t understand basic empathy. Thats not how it should be done. Strength comes from understanding and growing. Not by turning everyone into emotionally stunted mindless people. How are you this deranged?
Kito gives a disgusted look. ''Growing?'' Thats not evolving. Youre forcing men to be sniveling, meek children.
And youre forcing men to be walking ticking time bombs. Toughness doesnt come from hiding emotions. If you do that, their internal pressure is only going to get worse and worse. And then whatll happen when they hurt someone huh? Will you put the blame on them? Or yourself? Thats not maturity. Thats not being tough. You''re not deranged; you''re just stupid.
Kito looks at Naoki before shaking his head and sighing. I think you''re misunderstanding so, let me illustrate it from the top.
I have a feeling you think of me as some greedy man who only seeks power to fill up a hole in his heart.
If you think that of me, I am insulted.
Power, by definition, is influence; it dictates how things are run. I technically have power through the use of force; I can kill a majority of the Japanese populace with my bare hands yet, what the fuck is the point of being a politician if they''re all dead? I don''t want to kill anyone for fun, Naoki. That''s pointless. So, though it may seem like I''m a cruel man, in reality, I''m simply doing the logical thing. It may seem brutal but, I''m limiting my force to those who get in my way. Trust me, Naoki. I truly want to guide the people of Kyoto, and eventually, Japan, towards a brighter future. I may be tough on these people, and it may be cruel, but I''m willing to make those sacrifices for the sake of my people; even if it means getting my hands dirty."
Naoki snarls. "No, I don''t think you understand. Power is supposed to be dictated by an ethical good. Otherwise, you''re just another dictator waiting to happen."
Ethical good?" Snorts Kito. "You say that yet ethical good means different things to different people. Your definition of ethical good can seem backwards and ridiculous to the other person. And so far, your ''ethical good'' seems real fucking stupid to me.
You say that an ''ethical good'' means different things to everyone, knowing that the average person would agree with you. Yet your ideology demands extremism to work in the first place. And extremism in any scenario is like asking an idiot to pilot a commercial plane. See where that takes you.
Kito doesnt say anything and just groans.
Dont you have a counter argument? Asks Naoki.
Its not that I dont have one, its just that its pointless. Debates are just aggressive discussions that go nowhere. It is what it is. And thats why when it comes to these cases, the only thing that matters, is whoever wins by force. Its like the smartest man in the world against an army. It doesnt matter what plans he has in order to defend himself, nor how many weapons or supposed allies he has, nor how correct he actually is in any regard. Its force that wins at the end of the day, not reason. Do you think wars are won through debates? Come on; quit being so naive.
He then turns his back on Naoki and faces the sunset, basking at the dying light''s glow. "But of course, these are all just hypotheticals; no matter what we say, well both go nowhere. So, let''s just agree to disagree.
Naoki, visibly shaking, tightens his fists. He punches his own thigh, over and over again. Then he stops. The tears keep rolling but his sniffs also stop. Staring at the ground, he finally speaks up with a crooked voice.
This isnt the first time... I want to understand you. Dare I say, I shouldnt. I really shouldnt. But god damn it, I want to feel like I should help you, even if it''ll most likely result in your detainment and death.
Kito scoffs and smiles. Thats very nice of you. But I think youre old enough to know that you cant convince people, no matter how hard you try. People change their minds only if they want to be changed, not because of how sound your argument is.
I know, sniffs Naoki. I know. Its all worth very little. Not to throw a pity party because ultimately, this is about you, not me. But even if you wont care, I want you to hear me out. These thoughts, theyre unhealthy. And thats saying something considering Im a teenage boy and you''re probably the last person on earth who deserves any sympathy. But but Though we both know violence, a society exposed to this is just wrong. Towards you, Im frustrated. Angry. Confused. Saddened. But above all else I feel sorry for you.
Kito stops smiling. He turns to Naoki, and stares at him.
After 3 seconds of feeling Kitos gaze stab through him, Naoki tilts his head up, reciprocating the look.
"What did you just say?" Asks Kito.
"You heard me."
Kito''s face distorts even further. The kaleidoscope eyes looking even more intensely at the teenager. Kito raises his arm, and readies a chopping motion with his hand.
"I don''t need your pity."
Just as Kito swiftly motions his arm in a decapitating manner, within a hundredth of a second, Kito feels a wicked spear pierce through his own lungs. One single presence, accompanied by three smaller jagged blades, all coming from multiple directions.
Kito''s hand stops, a mere millimeter away from Naoki''s neck.
Kito looks down at himself. Deforming his hand from a bladed formation, he pats his chest from various angles.
"(I''m...I''m fine?)" Thinks Kito to himself.
He then looks around. From the rooftops of the shops, to the depths of the water, not too far from him, he frantically turns, only to look towards the left of Naoki.
Standing only 15 meters away, Naota Sen stands with folded arms. A stern expression barely contains his sentiment, as visible veins envelope his face and arms.
The kaleidoscope eyes seek the truth within Naota; the Asura stands before the Ogre.
From one pair of eyes trying to see past a pair of sunglasses, all that was reflected back to Kito is Red.
Flabbergasted, Kito thinks to himself. "(I was so distracted by the brat that I didn''t notice him there. The source of the strange Ki wasn''t Naoki... it was him.)"
Kito licks his lips before taking his seat back down. "(With my lowered levels, this''ll be a problem.)" Looking at the scenery, the corners of his lips perk up. "(And even then, I''d like to see them try.)"
Kito takes his seat right next to Naoki, resting his hands behind his own head.
Naoki looks back at him with a blank look. "You see Kito, that''s your problem. You''re too simple minded. You sidestep criticisms by just choosing not to care. Blinded by arrogance and selfishness, and even ignoring things that are right in front of you-"
"I don''t care much for your psychoanalysis; especially when its laughably bad. Get on with it. What are you trying to say"
"You''re an idiot. Youre nothing but a simple minded, backwards, brutish ogre."
Kito uses his pinky to poke and clean his own ear. "I thought we were past the part of name-calling. Are you done?"
"Keep at it with that ego." Says Naoki. "Lets see where it takes you."
Kito chuckles. "Personally, I think its taken me pretty far if I do say so myself"
Naoki pauses.
"Whats wrong now?" Asks Kito in a sarcastic tone.
"You know... youve been teaching me a lot." Mutters Naoki in a quiet tone. "So how about I return the favor." He looks up at the fisherman with a surprisingly kind look. "Are you familiar with the concept of karma?"
Kito shrugs. "Kind of. Never got too into the practicing side of religion."
Well, not the literal term, because we don''t have the time for me to teach what''s in the scriptures. But the basic principle goes, what goes around, comes around. What others have done unto you, shall be done to them. And more importantly, what you do to others, shall be done to you.
Kito wrinkles his nose. Naoki, I know youre not dumb enough to really think that all the people in the world get what they deserve.
Naoki stares at the ground. Thats fair. Youre still standing after all.
Kito rolls his eyes.
"However, I still believe theres value in that proverb." Assures Naoki. "One way or another, I like to believe that things will line up. Call it naivety, call it hope. I for one, dont see a bright future for you."
Kitos muscles tense up. His nose wrinkles. He stares at Naokis head, as if trying to burn a hole through it. What are you trying to say, Naoki? That you will be the one to stop me?
No. Simply says Naoki in a tired tone. At the end of the day, we must take responsibility for the actions we take. Consequences domino, and wed all like for justice to be served. But ultimately, I only have one advice for you.
Naoki turns to Kito and stares him dead in the eye. Naokis soft, genuine eyes clash with Kitos malicious, stern gaze.
Watch yourself.
Kito wrinkles his nose. "You give off the guise of humility, but even I can tell how self absorbed you are. You think just because you got a little hurt means something? Look at me Naoki. I took a bomb to the face and you don''t see me preaching about karma, nor empathy or other frivolous concepts. No matter what happens, we all survive; until we don''t. You can call me a simple minded brute for thinking that way, but at least I''m not dumb enough to preach my own pretentious delusions to the enemy."
"You literally just did that for the past ten minutes."
With a pissed demeanor, Kito turns to Naoki, making sure he doesn''t touch him, and yells.
"YOU ASKED FOR IT YOU IDIOT."
Kito''s yell echoes throughout the boardwalk. All of the children stop playing. All of the people stop talking. Even Naota seems slightly startled.
With wide eyes, Naoki resets back to his centered sitting position.
"That...I suppose that''s true."
Returning to a much more relaxed position, Kito looks back at his watch. The final red rays of the sunset hit the both of them.
In a slightly hurried fashion, Kito starts up again.
"It''s getting late Naoki. And I''ll admit, I''m starting to get tired of seeing you and your friends. So as an act of diplomacy, I''ll give you two options. You already know you''re fucked so just shut up and listen.
The first is that we can meet at the Hayashi restaurant that''s nearby. It''s a sushi restaurant with a red forest logo, you can''t miss it. I''ll bring my crew and you''ll meet us with your team. There, we can have a diplomatic setting of contracts between the both of us. And as you know, we can''t make contracts for other people unless they''re present so, we would all be doing a favor for each other.
Or.
We can end this once and for all, right here, right now. All of your friends against me. That one over there is the strongest, I can tell. But, I think you already know the collateral. But who knows. Perhaps heh- just a random earthquake may come out of nowhere and hit this very beach right as we''re fighting; one to break records at that. And who knows. Maybe I just happen to be the only one who''ll be able to stop it for some unknown reason. A week from now, that''ll net me some votes, don''t you think?"
Kito turns to Naoki, smiling. "So. What do you think?"
Naoki, with the most exhausted face imaginable, turns to Kito.
"Kito. We already did this like three times. I''ll meet you at the restaurant in an hour."
Kito closes his eyes, smiles, and sighs. "Perfect. One last thing; how many people are you planning to bring with you?"
Naoki, looking at Kito''s relaxed demeanor, contemplates. "(He''s most likely plotting something like an ambush. Perhaps the restaurant is just a means of luring us in. But, doesn''t he want to keep people alive? I know that he''s using them against us, but wouldn''t he want as many voters as possible? Unless he''s already plotting something to his advantage. He knows he has control over the situation, so what else would he be afraid of? Will my answer only dictate whether he brings more people? I thought it was just the four other men from last night. Does he have more?)"
Kito then continues. "It''s to reserve our place at the restaurant. They get pissy when more people than expected come."
"(...)"
"Oh." Simply says Naoki. "Five people, including me."
Kito nods. "Noted. Well, see you later."
"...right." Simply mutters Naoki.
As the night falls, they walk in separate directions. Kito checks his flip-phone, which is full of text messages, while Naoki walks towards Naota.
As Kito walks out of Naoki and Naota''s sight, Naota starts; "Well, I''m glad he didn''t actually touch you."
"Yeah, but if he did, then you guys would''ve been able to-"
"He would''ve killed you, Naoki."
Out of the shadows from the nearby shops and rooftops, Ken, Makoto, and Viral all swiftly make themselves known.
"The only reason we agreed to this plan was because we hinged it on being a bluff." Explains Naota. "This was a stupid plan to begin with but, the fact that it actually worked is a miracle."
Naoki sighs. "Naota, were it anybody else, not only would they have died, either all of us would''ve died but he would''ve ignored the contract and most likely would''ve hunted us down. It''s because of my relationship with him that this worked."
"(Admittedly, there were some part that were a bit too close,)" thought Naoki to himself.
Naota huffs air out of his nose. "Next time, we''ll set up the plan because this was too risky. I shouldn''t have let you go on with it but... whatever, it''s already passed. Tell us what he said."
.
.
.
As Kito continues to walk, he reads the texts.
Firstly, he reads Bara''s texts:
"Boss where are you!? I already left work and I''m on my way!" - Over an hour ago.
"I already texted Kasumi and he said he''s on his way. I don''t know where Kasumi is, but all he said was that he found Daiki and he''s headed for the beach." - 47 minutes ago.
"Please excuse me boss, I''m on the train now. But, I was delayed by a strange man with a leather jacket right before I got on the train. He said he recognized me from your campaign posters and said he was interested in you and your campaign. Typically I would appreciate his support and go on with finding you but, this one was different; I sensed a bit of magic in him! Not a lot, but its still very strange. Since I was in a rush, I gave him our contact info. What do you think?" - 39 minutes ago.
"I''m approaching the pier, tell me where you are when you get the time." - 8 minutes ago.
Kito tilts his head. "(Hm. Now there''s a third one after me?)" He thinks, squinting.
"If you have his phone number, text him that we can meet later at midnight at the harbor. Don''t bring anyone else. I''m approaching the cat cafe." Texts Kito.
As Kito walks past an alley between the shops, he immediately senses a presence full of Ki and Magic right behind him. Kito forms a chopping shape with his hand and in a seemingly instant motion, almost chops the entire shop behind him in half, stopping right before the person''s neck.
Kito instantly realizes the person, scoffs, and rubs his forehead in annoyed fashion. "Robert-san..."
"Hello Kito." Says Robert with folded arms.
"Your sense of hiding is getting a lot better. I didn''t recognize your presence," chuckles Kito in semi-proud fashion.
Behind sunglasses, Robert''s eyes narrow; his stoic expression doesn''t leave his face.
"How long have you been here?" Asks Kito.
"Since you and the brat started talking. By the way, I noticed there were at least two other people I saw, hiding around the shops." Responds Robert.
"Hm. Not surprised. Say, do you know where the others are?"
"They should be around."
As the both of them stroll, Kito reads Kasumi''s texts.
"Hang on boss, I''m on my way!" - Over an hour ago
"Daiki called me so I took a rendezvous to pick him up. We''re arriving in around 30 minutes." - 45 minutes ago.
"Where are you?" - 10 minutes ago.
.
.
.
Within ten minutes, Kito''s crew eventually find each other. As they all get ice cream, Kito explains what he and Naoki discussed, as well as his theories on what''s going on with the attempts at his life.
If you care, Kito got Wasabi mochi ice cream, Robert got Vanilla, Bara got strawberry, Daiki got Yuba (skin that forms on top of soymilk, prevalent in Kyoto), and Kasumi got soy sauce flavored ice cream.
.
.
.
Time passes.
Kito and his crew all sit down comfortably at the Hayashi restaurant. It''s the busy part of dinner time; several waiters march back and forth to and from the kitchen, while families and lonely people all sit and enjoy their meals. Kito and his men all have water set before them. Despite sitting there for 15 minutes already, Kito assures the waiters that he won''t order until the rest of his party arrives, much to the stress of the waiters. He folds his arms and sits patiently, closing his eyes.
Step.
Step.
Step step.
Step step step step step step step.
Skitter.
Step.
Kito raises an eyebrow, as he looks at the ceiling of the restaurant for a moment, before focusing back to his own senses.
An overwhelming ocean of Ki, Magic PsychoPower presses against the entrance of the restaurant. Imagining the glass crackling, as well as all the furniture and people getting swept up instantly.
"They''re here."
Walking down the aisle of the restaurant, Makoto, Ken, Viral, Naota, and Naoki are all directed to the table Kito is sitting at.
Kito opens his eyes.
Makoto sits in front of Robert; the two of them instantly wrinkling their noses at each other. Naota sits in front of Daiki, and looking at him with an almost saddened expression. The other four sit in indistinct parallels while Naoki, of course, sits in front of Kito.
Kito glances at Naoki, then to Viral and Ken, then back to Naoki; his eye twitches as he makes a baffled smile.
Naoki stares at him sternly.
"Alright Kito. Let''s deal."