Mind Games - Chapter 9

I took a breath. “How does Arcane Fate work outside of Creation?”

Velma was silent for a long moment. “I swear to Upper Management, half the reason The Company hasn't replaced Contractors with hyper-efficient simulacra is that they will invariably push the button they've just been forbidden from.”

“Hmm... yeah, you're doing a great job. I feel seen,” I replied in a dry and amused tone. “So...”

“I see where you're going with this,” Velma sighed. “And... despite my better judgement, it's not an awful idea. Don't get me wrong, I think it's still incredibly dangerous, but it's not dangerous to the same extent that buying a magecraft template from the Fate multiverse would be.”

“More or less dangerous than being trapped in a reality that's effectively being put under quarantine due to contamination from some kind of unknown and likely eldritch threat?” I asked, affecting innocent curiosity.

“...see, this is why managing the ones with common sense is actually difficult,” Velma stated as I heard typing on the other end of the line. “Alright, you're in luck. We have Sidereal Exalted templates in stock. They're much less popular than the Solar, Lunar, and Infernals.”

“Munchkins, Furries, and Edgelords are usually more common in Exalted than the stealth-obsessed xianxia weaboos,” I opined, drawing an unexpected laugh from the woman.

“Arcane Fate... looks like you have options. The Curse is heavily-reliant on the in-universe Loom of Fate, the constellation of The Mask, and the Great Betrayal. In addition, The Company tends to process templates, substitute origins, and raw powers to remove negative effects. Since these are bespoke to fit your soul, though, we can leave part of it in,” Velma explained quickly, her words a rapid-fire dose of knowledge.

“I'm admittedly more interested in the particulars of the manifestation rather than the manufacturing process, but that's good to know,” I stated, scratching my chin idly.

“Getting there,” Velma responded distractedly. “Okay, first option is that we leave it in unchanged. This will manifest in you being a 'background character' for lack of a better term. Since the world you're inhabiting won't be Creation, people will be able to remember you and documentation such as physical records or digital audio-visual files of your behavior won't be affected. But no one will initiate conversations, invitations to events, etc... with you unless they're very significant to the local destiny mechanic, whatever that may be.”

Which was why Destiny Defense was on my short list of things to buy, but between it and Polymorph the latter was much more common. The only standout case of some kind of 'fate' being observed in this world was Sir Nighteye's quirk. But I was in uncharted territory as far as what did and did not exist, and compared to New Order some kind of probability-manipulating quirk was downright reasonable.

“Next?” I asked, probing for another possibility.

“We can mode-lock Arcane Fate to a specific form, provided you have an alternate one. This would narrow the scope, but up the intensity, basically allowing you to disconnect one form from another in any observer's minds so long as they don't physically see you transform with their own eyes. Given the intensity upgrade, it would cause minor faults in electronic observation, sabotaging evidence of your shifting, but it wouldn't be impossible for someone who watched the footage to come to the conclusion that your two forms are connected in some way. So you'd need to be careful.”

I blinked, cocked my head, and considered the idea. “Like if I turned into... a wolf or something...?”

“A sufficiently intelligent individual might believe that you trained the animal to some extent, yes,” Velma replied, understanding where I was going.

“Huh,” I muttered. “Anything else?”

“There's something called 'Burst Mode,' where we change it so that the curse has a gauge to fill, either over time or by large amounts of attention being paid towards you, and can be released periodically. This has the advantage of, if you 'save up' enough, you can potentially activate Arcane Fate at full effectiveness, as if it were active in Creation, for a limited time,” Velma explained.

I paused, thinking over the options. The main intent behind my impulse to choose a Sidereal template was to escape potential consequences of having a vigilante alter-ego, and I had the beginnings of a plan forming in my mind. “The second one. Mode-Locked or whatever.”

Velma hummed. “Alright. Now, which caste did you want?”

“I was hoping for a Chosen of Secrets, First Age if possible,” I pressed, my voice hopeful.

My agent hissed. “First Age? No. Those are rare and you're nowhere near valuable enough to be worth the kind of surcharge we'd have to pay to trade with another office. Ah... that said, we do have one First Age Sidereal Exaltation template in stock. It's not the Maiden of Jupiter, though.”

I sighed. “Knowing my luck... the most useful ones in my position would be, in descending order... Battles, Endings, Journeys, and Serenity. So I'm guessing it's from the Maiden of Venus.”

“I guess the old parable about pessimists never being disappointed is true,” Velma replied dryly.

I briefly considered shifting to a younger and less-powerful Age, but... I was a stubborn bastard at times. “I'll take it.”

...

So, pop quiz time. You get superpowers, what do you do?

Now, putting aside the fact that I already had a superpower, I did just get better superpowers, so the question is still valid. Once I got out of the hospital for my observation period, I had the choice of immediately pulling on a hoodie and ski mask, jumping out my window the second after sunset, and wandering around the city until I found someone being naughty that I could punch. Also, probably climb up the side of a building and brood menacingly while monologuing about some abstract internal struggle no one else would understand.

Don't get me wrong, Cassandra loved Bruce like the father she never had, but he could be a bit much at times.

Anyway, that was the stupid choice. I might have the memories and skills necessary to impersonate the Caped Crusader, but that's only part of the equation. Batman was infamous for his collection of fancy crime-fighting toys, after all, and I had precisely none of those. The thing that most filthy casuals forget about Batman, though, is that all of the combat ability, gadgets, and obsessive mental illness combined doesn't do a thing unless you know where and how to apply it.

Ra's al Ghul had called him 'Detective' for a reason.

That should explain why I, seemingly, went back to my daily life for a good two weeks after my abduction.

I exhaled in a smooth motion as a cloud of frozen mist manifested before me, the bowstring resting on my fingers pulled taught as I focused on the target and-

-thunk-

-released, letting the arrow fly at the small backstop I'd built in the corner of my backyard out of sandbags. The projectile pierced the center ring perfectly, jutting out from the bullseye like the declaration of my intent. As I relaxed, I rolled my neck and shoulders to shed the tensions, even as I heard the surprising noise of a pair of hands clapping.

Blinking, I found my father standing on the small back porch, looking out over the training area I'd build in the backyard. “Uhh... Hey Dad.”

The older man blushed slightly, weaving a hand through his lavender hair awkwardly. 'S-sorry, Son. I didn't mean to interrupt. It's just... really impressive, the work you've done back here.”

My eyes traced the various pieces of equipment I'd bought off bargain bin stores and websites, nothing that wouldn't be out of place at your average school, playground, or gymnasium. It wasn't anything impressive, but at the same time it wasn't something that most normal people would do, either. “Ah... thanks? I've, um... been putting things away after I get done using them, right? I did promise I wouldn't leave a mess.”

Niko snorted, the man looking... and feeling lighter than I'd noticed in a long time. The oppressive atmosphere around him had lightened into something that felt like the sky after a thunderstorm. It was still a slate-gray ceiling on the world, but there were uncertain shafts of light offering some meager hope. “It's fine Hitoshi. Honestly, I think it looks better with all the work you've put in, really. I just... I've let it go in the last few years, haven't I?”

I could feel the pressure increase, like an echo of the storm that had passed considering coming back for more, but after a moment, he shook it off. I cleared my throat, hoping to distract him. “You can't tell right now, with all the snow, but I gave the lawn a cut before things started to freeze.”

Dad smiled, but his heart wasn't in it. Still, he was trying. “That's... good, Hitoshi. You're... really serious about this hero business, aren't you?”

I shrugged, then nodded. “It's what I'm planning to do, yeah.”

He matched my nod absently, staring off into the middle distance as he leaned against the porch railing, drumming his fingers on the bannister. “Alright then. I thought, with your quirk... but you seem committed to it. I'll sign the internship application for the Endeavor Agency.”

I blinked in surprise, stiffening and shifting my position as the snow crunched underneath my feet. “It's okay then? I thought you were worried.”

Shinso Niko scoffed, rubbing at the dark circles under his eyes. “I'm a father, Hitoshi. Worry is basically all we do. But... it's what you want and you're prepared to take it on, so I won't stand in your way.”

I smiled a bit, exchanging the expression for a more open and honest one from the other man than I could remember seeing in a long time. The heavy air, thick with psychic turbulence, lightened again. “Thanks, Dad. It means a lot to know you've got my back.”

“Never be afraid to ask for help, Son,” he replied, his face soft. “Also, we... uh...”

The air thickened, heavy and thick with a storm that had never truly left.

“I mean... I'm going to visit your mother. For Christmas.” Niko cleared his throat, awkwardly, looking anywhere but me. “I'm sure she'd like it if you-”

“Let me know when,” I interrupted him, reaching for another arrow and turning away. The move made it easier on him, I knew. He didn't like being stared at. “I'll come with you.”

I felt the storm subside, the sea beneath it stilling into uncharacteristic calmness as beams of light shone down. Niko inhaled sharply. “I-are you sure? You-ah, last year-”

And the year before that, and the year before that, and the year before that. After I'd grown up enough to realize she wasn't coming home.

“I'm sure,” I replied, drawing back the bow.

I felt Dad's attention on me for a long moment, before I saw him nod in my peripheral and begin to move away, into the house. His body language told me how urgently he wanted to be gone before I could change my mind. “Alright then, I'll leave you to it.”

“Hey Dad,” I called out, feeling my muscles burn at the extension. The older man paused.

I exhaled, a moment of infinite stillness as I emptied my lungs and steadied my aim. “I'll be out tomorrow. Got a date.”

Then I released.

He almost tripped over himself in surprise, turning to stare at me in near-shock as the arrow hit home. Even as the world around me shifted into a tumultuous mix of happiness and concern, I grinned.

...

As I entered the covered shopping arcade, I gave myself a passing glance in the reflective surface of the glass windows of a store. As I'd been constantly reminded over the past two months, temperature control for the Japanese was very much optional and minimalistic. Whereas Americans would have just enclosed the entire space and shoved a few massive HVAC units on the roofs of the nearby buildings, the general expectation in this country was that you'd just bring a coat if you were cold.

And I had, even if it was a bit thinner than the ones other people were wearing... but I liked the cold. It was better than the summer, at least.

The thin blue jacket over my shoulders covered up most of a relatively nice collared lavender tee and hung down just a bit over the waistline of a pair of cream slacks. Last but not least was my good pair of comfortable boots and a lazily draped blue-purple scarf around my neck.

I'd even managed to get my hair to behave... somewhat.

Checking the time and making sure I was still a few minutes early, my eyes flicked around and took in the scenery, five different minds looking out through my gaze. River could see and feel the ambient noise of the various people, spikes of frustration and glee thrumming like the plucked strings of a spider's web. Cass picked out the aggressors from the targets, those most likely to transgress and those most likely to be on the receiving end. The ghost of Shinso Hitoshi saw danger in each interaction, the potential life-ending accusation should anyone be having a particularly bad day and want to destroy his semblance of a life. Ranma saw easy marks for his female form to beg treats off of and the thoughtless contemptible weakness in the civilians, only taking notice of the few heroes waving the flag during the holiday season on the lookout for shoplifters and troublemakers.

...and, finally, the Sidereal.

Their title had been Tempestuous Fatespun Courtesan, taking the place of a name lost to calamities and victories through the myriad years, and they saw...

Everything.

The way the people moved, who would be enjoying company that night and who would want for that same pleasure. Absently, I bumped into a girl with living hair and sent her tumbling into a slightly older boy with a rhino mutation quirk, then vanished from their line of sight before I could be chastised. I felt the flow of the arcade's traffic shift as the woman apologized to the man, the latter setting her safely on her feet with a gentleness that surprised (and delighted) her.

Such are the accidents of fate from which romance blossoms.

Sure enough, the young woman allowed herself to be led off to a coffee shop, putting on a bit of a performance from how badly I'd jostled her. Her body language had been upset and there were traces of missing bangles on her purse, jacket, and phone with a bulge to her bag that spoke of carrying too much in it. From what I'd glimpsed on her phone, she was looking for a job as well and had just cleaned out her locker at the bakery down the way given the way she wore cinnamon like a perfume. Personally, I guessed she'd finally had enough of her manager hitting on her, especially with the irritation on her palm.

The guy was easier. Guys usually were. The shadow of an absent ring told me more than enough to make an educated guess.

I snorted in amusement as I leaned against a carefully manicured tree and watched as the woman bemoaned the details of whatever the conflict had been. The man, very obviously an old hand at this, made all the right noises and asked all the right questions to prove he was paying attention. Soon enough, his wallet was out and pictures of the children were being shown off, something I'd half-suspected from the stains on the tail of his jean jacket. The woman looked appropriately entranced by the single father's quiet pride.

The warm glow of accomplishment burned in my chest.

I didn't know if they'd work out, of course. A serendipitous romantic meeting right before Christmas hardly guaranteed a relationship's success.

But everyone deserved a chance at happiness. So sayeth the Joybringer.

Then I felt attention on me, a split second before a warm and soft weight wrapped itself around my right arm. Tilting my head, I caught the golden gaze of a predator as she leaned in to me, smiling that fake smile of hers. “Hi!”

I replied with my own plastic smile. “Hello. Having fun?”

It was a softball question, multilayered but easy to ignore if she wanted to. Himiko paused, cocking her head at me as her expression vanished for a moment, before it slid back into place like it was never gone. Her smile became a fraction more genuine. “Yep! Just had to check.”

Despite myself, my pulse quickened ever so slightly at the rejoinder, a reply that was as much of a puzzle as an answer. “Like what you found?”

“Still thinking,” Himiko replied, then flicked her gaze towards the couple I'd just bumped into creating. The undeniably broken girl's eyes reflected a depth and consideration that surprised me, though what she said next surprised me even more. “You did that on purpose.”

My breath caught. She'd been watch-no, I would have felt that. But she could have been watching around me, not chancing that I'd pick up on being watched. A Bat Family trick for those especially adroit targets. The instincts on this girl...

“Oops?” I replied, cocking an eyebrow in a silent dare.

Another head tilt, a pout that looked just slightly off on her face if you were paying close attention. “That was nice. You made them happy. Tell me?”

The swerve from calculating and dissecting into direct and open questioning made me pause. I ran my tongue along my teeth thoughtfully. “A secret for a secret?”

Himiko blinked, her expression flickering into a cold and guarded mask before shifting back again. There was frustration there, too, the sidereal within me picking it out easily as a child's spoiled irritation at being told 'no' for the first time. I really pitied the guys who'd asked Toga Himiko out if she was actually managing to keep up with me like this, even with all of my advantages.

She opened her mouth to reply and-

Simultaneously, we both stiffened and I 'slipped' against the tree I was leaning on, pulling both of us behind it from the perspective of our watcher. Instantly, I felt the feeling abate as I caught a flurry of motion behind one of the benches before my own line of sight was cut off. Himiko, now pressed against me fully, threatened to bore a hole in our tree-shield with the intensity of her gaze.

Her body language wasn't just angry, it was frustrated. A different kind, though. Specifically, an old and familiar frustration overlapped with a confusion directed towards the situation in general, her eyes flicking my way.

“Friends of yours?” I asked, making an educated guess as my mind returned to the pink-furred friend who'd been abducted with her.

Himiko stilled, her face blanking utterly for the longest stretch I'd glimpsed so far as she stared up at me. Microexpressions came and went, flickering across her face as she visibly tried to pull an expression together, but each time her eyes would shift towards the tree and the group beyond it before short-circuiting again.

The Sidereal inside me practically salivated at the opportunity, the outline of a plan already forming to shatter the relationships the girl possessed and leaving her adrift for me to put back together into something functional and useful-

And that's quite enough of that, thank you very much.

“Wanna let me take care of it?” I asked gently, stifling Himiko's panic as she fixated firmly on me. I continued, making my offer clear instead of slipping back into the (admittedly more amusing) mind games we had been enjoying. “I'll take the blame if they're upset.”

It took a moment, but tension began to flow from Himiko's form as she nodded, taking a quick quarter-step back from me as her mind cleared the error and began working again. She nodded once, then muttered. “Please?”

I ignored the way my heart went doki-doki at the desperation in that one word.

Nodding, I slipped my arm in hers and tugged her along as that same empty smile plastered itself back on her face. Then, contrary to the expectation of anyone who'd ever seen a shitty reality tv show or b-ranked anime, we approached the bench directly, the girls crouched behind it instantly ducking and hiding the moment they laid eyes on us.

Putting on one of my more artificially-genuine expressions, I leaned over the back of the bench as Himiko schooled her face into something sheepish and awkward. I gave it a solid 8/10, especially with how rattled she'd just been a moment ago. “Nice to meet you ladies. I'm sure Toga-chan told you my name, but just to make sure... I'm Shinso Hitoshi. Would you like to join us for dinner?”

...

Soon enough, all six of us were seated at a table in the faux-American diner that was bedecked in a bit too much All Might merch for my taste. Honestly, it reminded me of some strange Hard Rock Cafe reboot from an alternate universe. Which... was probably more on the nose than I wanted to think about. Moments like these still gave me a bit of culture shock, but it was the closest place that had actual positive reviews from legitimate American heroes who'd eaten their food.

“-so how did you catch us?” Michiko asked, still slightly upset that I'd spoiled their romcom shenanigans.

I finished the bite of my Might-Size Double Burger with Bacon (capital letters mandatory) and downed it with a large pull of soda before replying. “Heroes need to be aware of their surroundings at all times.”

Which was more polite than simply telling the girl that two dozen other people had been very obviously staring at their group in addition to them being very blatant stalkers in odd outfits. It was bad enough that I'd seen a few peopole looking for a hidden camera.

At least they'd put the mustaches, sunglasses, and oversized hats away.

“I knew it was something like that!” Arupaka nodded energetically, her body language overcompensating for her anxiety around me as she put on a cheerful front. Compared to Himiko... 2/10, and only because I felt sorry for the girl.

“A likely story,” the tall girl with mid-length black hair replied, the only one of the group that had overtly declared their dislike for me, in attitude if not in words. Her blue eyes flicked between Himiko and myself. “So, what do you have planned for the big date?”

Himiko looked at me briefly, her cheeks bulging with shredded meat like a particularly carnivarous chipmunk. She'd ordered a steak, one of the most expensive items on the menu, with all the social grace of a wrecking ball. Again, if I were a lesser teenage boy like her classmates, that might have caused me to flinch. Instead, I'd mentioned to the waitress to sear it, but leave it bloody rare for the girl. I'd gotten an odd look from the staff and a piercing one from Himiko, but her obvious enjoyment trumped anything else at the moment.

“Well,” I drawled lightly, enjoying the slight twitch of her eye. “This meal is admittedly part of the plan, then I'd hoped we could go window shopping and give us some time to digest and talk. There's a music store down the way that I'm particularly interested in. A little while later, there's a spate of movies starting and we could take our pick. Or, since I chose the restaurant, Himiko could choose the movie, if she likes.”

Eyes shifted and Himiko's expression smoothed out into one of thoughtfulness as she finished chewing her food and swallowed.

“Make sure you save room for dessert and movie snacks, Himiko-chan,” Hina called with a grin. “See how deep his pockets really go!”

There was a smattering of giggles, to which I simply gave a tolerant smile. Though that only seemed to irritate Ami more. Himiko, I could tell, likely didn't actually get the joke, but pretended as if she did. I knew she understood the concept of money, at least, but I wasn't too surprised at the implication that she didn't see the point in exploiting a relationship for financial gain. That kind of thing would put a strain on her existing social camouflage... and I imagine she had more blunt ways of ending relationships she didn't enjoy.

“So, Shinso-san...” Michiko began slowly. “Does Buster have a girlfriend?”

I refrained from sighing and continued chatting with Himiko's gal pals.

~~~

Ugh, holiday stuff. Had to do a lot of cleaning for family that got in last night, so I've been busier than usual.

Still, here's the promised update of Mind Games. I had a bit of trouble deciding where to cut the chapter off. Part of me wanted to do the entire date in one go, but... I really enjoy writing Hitoshi/Himiko interactions and would have probably turned this into a 7-8k monster if I'd gone that route. So the date will finish up next chapter. Which... will probably be the final buffer chapter as well. So look forward to a new thread as a late Christmas/New Years present.