SHUT-IN KAMEN v0.1

Hey folks, this is just something I've been working on. Very WIP. Your eyes are the first to see in any 'public' sense. Please enjoy!

CHAPTER 1: I'M GOING TO DIE LIKE THIS

In the modern day, it's remarkably easy to never leave your house.

You can have groceries and takeout delivered. Games, comics? Delivered. You can read them all online anyway. Your electric and internet bills can be paid online.

It seems like heaven, doesn't it?

In high school, I wasn't the most outgoing guy ever. I didn't do sports, or join any clubs, or really participate in anything any more than was required. I was an above average student, but not exceptional. And I wasn't a social butterfly, but I did have a couple of friends -- mostly outcasts like myself, bound together by our mutual love for some games and our ability to tolerate each other.

But then I graduated, and now there was nothing making me go outside.

I didn't have to go sit in a class with anybody, or see those two friends of mine, or anything. And if I didn't have to, why would I? At home, I have the best thing ever: A font of infinite information and entertainment, constantly expanding, ever-shifting, faster than one single person could ever process it. Frankly, anything else pales in comparison. If you showed a caveman a modern internet-connected computer, they would think they were looking at god. It IS god, if you think about it: Omnipresent, omnipotent, and not morally perfect per se, but at least very entertaining.

The most time I spent praying at that god's altar, the more I drifted away from conventional society. Eventually, I began to feel like something other than human. Other people my age were getting jobs and even falling in love and starting families.

I was rotting.

To even reveal the extent of my social failure to anyone else began to seem unbearably embarrassing. I didn't want anyone to see me. My social skills atrophied. I stopped caring about myself entirely, and despite always being at home, my personal hygiene went to shit too. My room is littered with trash bags I've been meaning to take out, but at this point it would take over an hour to do that, and I just don't see a point. I haven't showered in a week because two of those trash bags are in the shower. I've been just washing my face every day, when I remember, with the dish soap that I also use to sometimes wash my 1 dish.

Slowly at first, and then all of a sudden, this thought dawned on me:

I'm going to die like this.

I'm going to get old and die sitting on a beanbag chair, buried in fast food containers, never having experienced love or even true friendship or seen the world. The neighborhood kids, children OF the children that my former classmates are currently having, are going to give a wide berth to my dilapidated house, where they know a recluse lives, until one day it begins emitting a (more) terrible (than usual) stench and paramedics have to arrive to remove my body. Oh my god. I'm going to die.

I don't want to die.

I DON'T WANT TO DIE.

IDON'TWANNADIEIDON'TWANNADIEIDON'TWANNADIEIDON'TWANNADIEIDON'TWANNADIEIDON'TWAN--

At that moment, a bright light manifested in the middle of my room.

Light: Worry not earthoid! Today, truly, is NOT your day to die. You will live yet, and achieve your ✨GREAT PURPOSE✨.

Me: What?

The light began morphing into a humanoid figure.

Light-Person: Your neurochemsitry indicates you are on the verge of death, are you not? I know not your circumstances, earthoid. But so I have indeed arrived as, verily, salvation from your current fate, that being deceasement.

Me: ...

The light faded into a woman with teal skin, pointy ears, two antennae, and big pink hair in the shape of a fish tail.

Teal Woman: Pleasure to be of your acquaintance. Allow me to please introduce myself.

Goddess of Great Purpose: I am the Goddess of Great Purpose.

Me: ...

Goddess of Great Purpose: It is only of earthoid nature to be stunned in the manifestation of a goddess like myself. I will not take offense. But I am of supreme certainty that you will come to thank me. Now then.

A small portal of light manifested next to the Goddess of Great Purpose. She stuck her hand into it and rifled around for a while before a wide, almost mischievous smile crept across her face. He pulled out something that looked like a UFC belt, with with a chunkier "buckle" filled with wires and gears. She popped open the buckle, withdrew a needle from it, and began poking around inside.

Goddess of Great Purpose: What is your Great Purpose?

Me: Um... um... Sh-shouldn't you know that?

Goddess of Great Purpose: It is... of great cruciality that you must be the one to say it.

Me: Okay. Um. I guess I want to be a normal person.

She made an adjustment with the needle, and a tiny "click" emitted from the belt.

Me: And I want friends.

Click

Me: And a job.

Click

Me: And maybe even a girlfriend.

Click

Goddess of Great Purpose: Fantastical! And now, what is your source of power?

Me: My source of power?

Goddess of Great Purpose: What thing is it, with which you are the most powerful? It may be a weapon, or a place. A food, or an idea. Anything!

Me: Well if it can be a place, then, I guess I feel the most powerful here. In my house.

Cachunk

Goddess of Great Purpose: Here is my gift to you, purposeful one. This will grant you to the power to accomplish anything that you could want to be.

The belt hovered over to me slowly, arriving at my waist.

It then disintegrated part of my t-shirt using a grid of lasers on its interior and violently clasped around my waist.

Me: YEOUCH!!!!!!!!!!!

Goddess of Great Purpose: Worry not, purposeful one. This is but a drop in the sea of pain you are sure to feel along your journey.

Me: What?? Wait what was that about a sea??

The Goddess of Great Purpose began turning back into light, which then slowly morphed into a ball.

Goddess of Great Purpose: Best of fortunes to you! I will be observing! From the skies! Make sure you do well!

Me: WHAT DO YOU MEAN. WHAT DOES THAT MEAN.

The ball of light shrunk and vanished from existence. I sat for a moment in the now-very-evident darkness of my room. The shades were closed, but even in the dead of night, the single table lamp on the floor provided only meager lighting. I looked down at the belt, which, to put it gently, was "deep in there". It sunk into my stomach like a corsette, becoming part of the silhouette of my body. From inside it I could hear a gentle whistle and the tiny clicks of some small gears rotating, and as I looked down at it, listening to these noises, it registered for me that there was a button on the top. Aside from that button, that device was barren in terms of controls. If this thing did anything at all, I figured, it must do it when I press that button.

I pressed it.

The belt lit up a pure white, beams of light bursting out from it. The blinders of on my window were nothing more than a lampshade for the explosion of light. I closed my eyes and shielded my face. I opened one eye to see the light creeping up my stomach, and then closed it again tight, surrendering to whatever horrible thing this device was about to do to me.

The light shone mostly intact through my eyelids for a while, and when it was clear that it had gone away, I cautiously opened my eyes. My hands were covered in yellow gloves. A console window opened in the top left corner of my vision and entered a hundred commands in quick succession, like I had just downloaded a game from a sketchy torrent. The last line of text read this:

"Threat detection systems online."

Then it read this:

"Ocular systems obscured."

I put down my hands.

A square appeared surrounding a cup of ramen laying on the ground, and displayed a window showing its nutritional information.

I looked to my right, at the door into my bathroom and the door out of my room, monocolor green panel appeared at the top of my vision, showing the window behind me, as if it were a rear view mirror. Stepping over the pile of dirty clothes in front of my bed, I stumbled over to the bathroom and looked in the mirror.

Oh my god.

Oh my god, I looked so stupid.

I took off my t-shirt and sweat-shirt, which were now covering the torso of the outfit. This thing was so skin tight that it was almost kind of flattering. I was tempted for a moment to strike a Bayonetta pose, but resisted. It just didn't feel like the time.

Fun. Fun! Stupid, but fun. Then my attention turned towards the mask. Normally, I do not like seeing my face. In fact, I would even say it disgusts me, and I actively try to see it as little as possible, although whenever there's a mirror or anything like a mirror around (window, puddle), it does tend to draw my eye to it like a horrid intrusive thought monstrosity. What I was looking at now, though, was not my face, but a bug-eyed smooth mask that was hard to have any strong opinions about, one way or the other.

I touched one of the eyes.

"Please avoid tactile contact with ocular systems."

Woah.

I stood shocked for a moment, but then realized that NOW was the time for the Bayonetta pose. I took a bunch of mirror selfies of myself striking poses I knew from games and anime, and throwing in a few originals. It's like in this stupid yellow and pink outfit, I was a different person entirely, a entirely new person (to me, and to the world) who was far away from the old person's anxieties and inhibitions.

I bounced backwards over an open trash back and onto my bed and giggled to myself, flipping through the selfies. Maybe I could post these on the messageboard? I should probably blur the background, but there's no way I can be identified right? This outfit kind of looks COOL. Yeah, I'll hop on the computer and--

In one of the selfies, I tried to point upwards like Kamina from Gurren Lagann. The very tip of my finger in that photo was now pointing at a newly received push notification.

"Your package has arrived."

MY GRAPHICS CARD!!! I had gotten an amazing deal on a fairly state-of-the-art graphics card off of an online marketplace with the hopes of finally getting my clunker of a computer to play some modern games -- or at least some old games without lagging and crashing.

I ran downstairs and pressed my head against the window to look at my porch, bumping one of the bulbous eyes of the mask and prompting another complaint about the ocular systems. Nothing. Bugger all. My porch was devoid of a box. The rush of endorphins I was experiencing crashed into the cold and ragged cliffside of disappointment.

My eyes cautious scanned the porch and then going going up, and up, until at last my gaze rested at the gate at the end of my yard. A corner of a delivery box was peaking from behind one of the cement pillars of my front gate.

This happened sometimes. It's horse shit, but it happens. The website I bought it from uses an app-based delivery service, so whoever delivered it wasn't my normal delivery guy and (very unprofessionally) left it on the road next to my house. A $300 graphics card! Normally my regular mailman would scoop it up and put it on my porch on the way in, but in this case, what if a porch pirate takes it?? Or what if the trash guys pick it up thinking it's a trash box? This particular item can't wait.

But then again, it's out THERE.

I can't get it out THERE.

If I go out there, some girl is going to be looking through her window, and see me ooze out of my house to collect that box, and think "ew, is that who lives there?? In that disgusting house, with that disgusting resident, who very occasionally places an obscene number of trash bag out of his porch, inconveniencing the hardworking municipal employees? And what's that he's picking up? A graphics card, for gaming, for wasting more of his life with?" And then her father would walk up behind her and place her hand on her shoulder, silently communicating "yes daughter, now you see the disgusting truth of the world. Make sure you do not grow up into anything like that. Make the fear of that guide you towards a virtuous and productive life."

I can think of no other word: letting people see me is rude. It is a social faux pas for me to be outside in any capacity. I absolutely cannot let people see me.

Wait.

WAIT.

I looked again at my gloved hands.

They WON'T see me. Right now, in this rare moment, I am completely anonymous. And who is out at this hour anyway? Every functional human is having dinner and getting ready for bed. Ohohohoho! Things are different now. I can do it.

I usually do not open my door any farther than the few inches needed to retrieve a package or a food delivery, but now I pushed it open to its full breadth with great confidence, and immediately realized that that was a huge mistake.

CHAPTER 2: I WANT TO SWIM AGAIN

I froze. A warm breeze brushed my cheek and cascaded over my shoulder. I might as well have been standing in front of the void of space.

"Heart rate escalating. Danger detected."

A pair of small wing-type things popped out of my shoulders.

All I could think was "BACK BACK BACK BACK BACK BACK. BACK TO SAFE. BACK TO HOUSE. BACK TO BED. BACK."

I placed my hand on the door handle and took a small step back, but hesitated. In just a couple of seconds, I could be back in the safety of my house, but with the added shame of proving to myself that I really can't go outside at all. There was no comfortable way out of this. It was going to be terror, or shame.

I stepped forward again, and wobbled, careful not to throw myself off-balance in a way that would make me step off the porch.

The box was RIGHT THERE. Really not that far, now that I was looking at it. What, five good strides? Could I really not make just five strides? I looked around at the windows of the houses in my vicinity. One lit up at a neighbor's house, and a few lit up at the apartment complex behind me, but that place was too far away to see anything anyway.

I remembered being at a beach with my parents as a kid, and running first towards the water -- back then I was different, because I lacked the self awareness to think that I'm a freak. When you're kids, nobody is a freak or a weirdo or an outcast, because everybody's in the same situation: small, and scared, and new to the world.

But when my feet hit the water, I realized it was cold. Why would I want to put my whole body into that cold?? Ah, yes: I wanted to swim. You have to get in the water to swim. It won't be so bad once you're in it. You just have to endure the initial pain. You just walk forward no matter what. Get it over with.

Get it over with.

GET IT OVER WITH.

GET IT OVER WITH.

I want to swim again.

I closed my eyes and tensed every muscle, and with my entire reservoir of volition, took a step off the porch. Then another. And another. It felt surreal to open my eyes and realize that I was genuinely outside. It felt like a movie or a dream. Not only that, but the package was nearly within reach.

I reached down and placed my hands on it.

Then I lifted it

and found myself face to face with a elderly-looking man.

He carried a long bag slung over his shoulder. He was looking right at me.

I dropped the box.

Old Man: Why hello there sonny! That's a cool costume ya' got!

Me: ...

Old Man: Are you the kid that lives in this house?

He pointed at my front door, which remained ajar, showcasing a pile of delivery boxes on the inside that I'd been meaning to recycle for the past 2 months.

Old Man: You know, it's funny ...

His hand now pointed at me, elevating my heart rate once again and causing the small wings on my shoulders to further unfold into slightly bigger wings.

Old Man: We must be on totally different schedules, because I never run into you.

Me: ...

Old Man: You know, I lead a club at the community center down the street. Just 10 minutes from here. We host a ton of free classes there. You should come to one of those! Young people need to do more than just work, you know! Hey, you could even teach one!

This was the worst case scenario. No, it was worse than the worst case scenario. Even in my wildest hypothetical, I did not hypothesize that I would actually run into someone out here. Someone trying to TALK to me, no less. What do I do?? Do I run???

The suit put a box around the old man in my vision.

"Adrenaline rush detected. Threat imminent. Multilateral situational sensors activated."

Old Man: You know, young people these days don't even know their neighbors!

"Analysis complete. Generating optimal response."

First as a net of blue light, and then manifesting physically from top to bottom, a big stupid sword appeared in my right hand. The old man looked at it for a moment, stunned. I also looked at it, also stunned.

Then the old man's gaze turned towards me and grew cold. Even through my mask, he was somehow looking me right in the eyes. This was not the gaze of a kindly old man. No -- this was the look of a warrior.

Old Man: Oh-ho! Are you CHALLENGING me??

He dismounted his bag from his shoulder.

Old Man: Young man, I believe I've neglected to mention WHICH club it is that I lead.

The old man stuck his hand into the bag and slowly withdrew a long wooden sword.

"That's right," said the old man in response to nothing, "I am the leader of the Kendo Club. And if you think you stand any chance against me just because you have a fancy sword..."

"THINK AGAIN!!!" he screamed, lunging at me with an overhead swing in perfect form.

I recoiled back and protected my face with my hands. It was only as a side effect of this natural fear response to something flying at my face that I also happened to hold up the sword in a horizontal position. My eyes shut tightly.

A bump against the sword.

A vibration, like a controller rumble.

TVOO

SWISHSWISHSWISHSWISHSWISH

The sound of something spinning in the air, and flying far, far away.

When I opened my eyes, the old man was still in front of me, still in perfect Kendo pose at the end of his swing, but now without his sword. I heard the faint clunk of wood hitting cement several blocks away.

Old Man: Young man...

Me: ...

Old Man: ...

Me: ...

Old Man: ...we absolute must have you in Kendo Club.

I decided to try to speak. I had, after all, just knocked this old man's wooden sword God knows where. Probably broke it. And it probably expensive too. Not only that, but he was inviting me to Kendo Club, and that's a no go, but I owed him SOME kind of an answer anyway. He's also probably one of my neighbors, so I don't want him to think I'm some sort of weirdo.

Me: Um

Then I walked back into my door and closed it.

I tried to go back up in my room but couldn't make it all the way up, and had to just sit on the stairs, breathing quickly with my hand on my chest. After a bit of that I fumbled behind my neck, trying to take my mask off, but found that there was no seam at all. I sat there, still breathing quickly and heavily, for a moment before pressing the button that put the suit on me in the first place. To my relief, both the sword and the suit began disintegrating into blue wireframe, which then itself receded and faded until I was just sitting on the stairs in my underwear.

Wait.

I forgot the graphics card.

It was still out there.

Fuck.

When my breathing and heart began to slow down, I cautiously approached the window and parted the curtain ever so slightly to look.

The old man was gone.

But the box was on my porch now. There was a note on it reading "thank you for a fine match."

CHAPTER 3: ORDINANCE 152 SECTION 25 SUBSECTION B

My local grocery store was out of stock on the ramen I like. I know it really was, too, because my it was the usually delivery guy on the app, and he couldn't find it. He wouldn't fumble like that. He offered to substitute with the other brand, but that brand is gross and, frankly, "unfilling".

You might be tempted to make fun of me here, for living in literal trash and yet still having such a petty concern as "the store is out of my favorite ramen." This is like, beyond the caricature of a NEET, right?

But hear me out:

You would be surprised at how easily something can become a staple of your diet, even when that "something" is a highly processed shitty little cup of salt and carbs flavored like the vague idea of a chicken. My body EXPECTS those carbs to function. It WANTS that salt. I'll admit it. That ramen is literally the main course of both lunch and dinner for me, and I don't eat breakfast.

And let me justify myself some more:

1) It's economical. Literally cheaper than it would be to make that dish myself.

2) It's convenient. I store it in the original packaging, all stacked up in the corner of my room, and just take out a cup whenever I need to.

3) It's efficient. The packaging can just be thrown in the trash after I'm done. I'm not even going to pretend that I have the space and energy to keep and wash any glass dishes except that 1 that I have, and even that one, I only wash as needed.

So really, this ramen is a godsend for me.

I figured maybe I could just not eat. I never cared all that much about food. Really, the only deterrent is the massive headache my body sends me as a gentle reminder that I am a being of flesh and blood and not just a ball of divine energy that plays video games and goons. Then I remembered.

The convenience store on the corner also has it.

I didn't immediately go from being somewhat social to never leaving the house, you see. I used to be fairly normal. Then gradually, over the course of years, the sphere of things I was willing to do decreased. It was like a gear with a stopper, that could turn one way one little notch at a time, but never go back. I stopped going into the city because I had no one to go with anymore -- and then after I stopped, I saw little reason for ever going. It just seemed so tedious, and it wasn't like I was going to have much fun anyway. Then I stopped going to the movies. Then the grocery store, because I could just get food delivered after all. But that convenience store, that was right down the street for me, and had whatever sugar or carbs I was craving in the middle of a video game tilt on any given night... that was the very last to go.

The reason I stopped going was so stupid, too.

I wisened up to the fact that I could just get most of the stuff I got from that convenience store delivered in greater bulk and at a cheaper price. I got myself a few-weeks supply of everything I needed, and congratulated myself for being a smart consumer.

If I wanted something extra or ran out, THEN I could go to the convenience store, I figure. I'd say hi to the cashier, Toji. He played some of the same gacha games that I did, and we would chat for a bit and compare pulls while I got my snacks. That store only really had other people in it around opening and during the lunch rush, so at the times I went, it was like my personal giant snack closet with my sommelier and confidant Toji.

But a few weeks went by and I didn't end up going a single time. One of our games had a whole new event in that time. I thought "well, if I went NOW, I feel like I'd have to explain myself. Toji would be really disappointed that I stopped going." So I hesitated. I didn't go.

And then more time passed.

And more.

And the more time passed, the more awkward it became to go again. I thought, in the Toji's mind, what could explain this betrayal, but a sudden onset of major illness or even death? It has been a little over a year now since I stopped going, and I was afraid. But I wanted this ramen, and it was only a short walk away.

But maybe Toji didn't have to know about this. Maybe there could be a barrier between Toji's hurt eyes and mine -- an anonymizing safety cushion.

I looked down at the belt, bulging through my shirt.

Two thoughts crossed my mind:

1) Today was a haze for me just like every other. I don't even remember what I did for most of it. I scrolled but I don't remember what posts I saw. If I couldn't do this, I would rot away the rest of my life in this decrepit little room, and remember none of it, just like today.

2) I'm hungry.

I pressed the button.

Once again, an explosion of light that I shielded my eyes from, and I found myself back in the suit. I clasped and unclasped one of my gloved hands, looking at it intently as if I knew what I was doing at all. Then I put my legs in a wide space (as wide as allowable between the trash bags), clasped my hand into a fist, looked forward, and nodded at no one in particular. It just felt like something I should do in that suit. I even considered striking a Ginyu-Force-esque pose, but put my arms back down immediately after realizing that I would knock over my floor lamp into my computer, which would then fall on a soda I had on the floor and start an electrical fire.

It was easier this time to get out of my house. The Kendo man I encountered last time was nowhere to be seen, and I could already see the light of the convenience store window from in front of my house. The walk there, along a small street flanked on one side with houses and on the other side with a small wooded area behind a brick fence, and lit by only a single lamppost in the middle, felt nostalgic. Even though this was right outside my house, I could honestly say it had been a while since I'd been there. I even dared to feel a little giddy at what the cashier might say about my outfit.

The bell jingled as I opened the door to the convenience store and...

It was a different cashier. Of course it was a different cashier. Why would I expect Toji to still be working there after an entire year. It was just a bored looking girl now, using her arm as a phone stand on the counter and lazily eating 2-3 skittles at a time out of bag.

If it were the usual guy, he would listen to me. I could come up with some explanation of why I'm wearing a what amounts to a power ranger outfit. But it's NOT HIM. I considered pulling up the hood of my sweatshirt, but then thought better of it, because it would look like I'm trying to rob the store.

Regardless, the girl wasn't paying much attention. I grabbed 8 cups of the ramen. There were 9 in total on the shelf, but I would've felt bad taking the last one, so I grabbed 8 and walked over to the cash register, balancing them in awkward stacks of 3 and 2.

The girl looked up at me. Her eyes widened for a moment. Then she looked down at the ramen and her eyelids lowered to their half-mast resting place before she looked back up at me.

Cashier: So, what, is this a prank for Youtube? What's with the getup. You got a camera in those bug eyes?

I stepped in place with one foot, then with the other, nervously.

Me: U-uhm

Cashier: Whatever it is, you know you're not allowed to wear masks in here, right? If you don't take it off, I have to call security.

She pointed to a sign on the wall that read "NO MASKS OR FACE COVERINGS IN STORE" and had a graphic that looked, to an almost cartoonish degree, like my exact mask crossed out in a big red circle.

The suit, seemingly waking up, began to display messages in the top left of my vision.

"‼️ EPINEPHRINE 1 HOUR PEAK ‼️"

"‼️ EPINEPHRINE 24 HOUR PEAK ‼️"

"‼️ ADRENALINE 1 HOUR PEAK ‼️"

"‼️ ADRENALINE 24 HOUR PEAK ‼️"

"IDENTIFYING THREATS"

A red box appeared around the cashier's bored and vaguely disgruntled face.

I heard the door bell jingle once again and a new, heroic sounding voice boomed from my left.

???: HOLD IT RIGHT THERE, POTENTIAL CRIMINAL!!

I turned towards the door to see a police officer pointing at me. And this guy... oh boy.

This guy looked like he was straight out of clipart.

This guy was straight out of those signs with a little chibi police officer holding his palm forward as if to say "STOP".

This guy looked like the family he came from had been police officers since the Edo period.

The finger quickly went from point at me to pointing upwards as he put his feet together, put his other hand on his waist, and closed his eyes.

Officer: It is UNLAWFUL to wear a mask or facial covering inside of a convenience store. City Ordinance 152 Section 25 Subsection B, regarding the regulation of facial attire in establishments which sell cigarettes, alcohol, or caffeinated drinks with a caffeine content exceeding 40mg.

The suit now put a red box around him.

"THREAT DETECTED"

"GENERATING OPTIMAL RESPONSE MECHANISM"

Oh no. Oh NO NO NO.

NO NO NO

"OPTIMAL RESPONSE MECHANISM: Omega Sword"

One of my barely raised hands now help at first the fireframe of that big stupid sword, and then the item in all its glory. With my other hand also up, it now looked less like I was making myself unthreatening and more like I was drawing a scimitar from its scabbard.

The police officer's jaw dropped. He fumbled around on his belt for a moment before withdrawing a walkie talkie and bringing it close to his mouth. He talked loud enough for me to me to hear.

Officer: DISPATCH. DISPATCH. SUSPECT IS CARRYING A DANGEROUS WEAPON. AND FURTHERMORE VIOLATING CITY ORDINANCE 152 SECTION 25 SUBSECTION B REGARDING THE USE OF MASKS OR FACIAL COVERINGS WITHIN ESTABLISHMENTS SELLING CIGARETTES, ALCOHOL, OR CAFFEINATED DRINKS WITH A CAFFEINE CONTENT EXCEEDING 40MG. PERMISSION TO EMPLOY LETHAL FORCE.

I heard something indistinct from the other side of the radio, at which the police officer's mouth curved into the hint of a smile, and he ran outside.

I stood there for a moment considering what to do. I still had my hands up. I attempted to let go of the sword, but all that did was make it hover in the air and start spinning rapidly on what I could only assume to be a projectile deflection setting. I caught the sword by the handle again, then held it in front of me and started talking to it like it was a person.

Me: D-disable. Disable, please. No sword. Disable. O-oh my god what do I do. Disable. Override

"AUTOMATIC WEAPON SYSTEMS OVERRIDE. WHICH WEAPON WOULD YOU LIKE TO SPAWN?"

Me: No weapon. Put away weapon. None.

"WEAPON 'NONE' UNRECOGNIZED IN REGISTRY. REGISTER WEAPON 'NONE'?"

Me: NO!! NO, I DON'T WANT TO REGISTER WEAPON 'NONE'!!

The cashier girl next to me was still on her phone and had at this point almost finished her skittles.

Me: KNUCKLES!! WEAPON KNUCKLES!!

"Switching Weapon: Knuckles"

I looked up at the sword I was holding above me dissipating into a wireframe, after which spikes popped out of the knuckles of my gloves. At least the sword was gone. This was going to have to be enough. When I looked back down, the police officer was once again standing in the doorway.

He looked entirely different. His expression was equal parts manic and insidious, a wide smile giving me a view of his perfect teeth, which now looked just a little too thin, too numerous. On his shoulder was a strap, and my eyes slowly followed down to what it was holding up.

He had a gatling gun.

"DIE, CRIMINAL SCUM!!!"

he yelled, unleashing a torrent of bullets at me and laughing maniacally. I was immediately blasted back and through the wall into the storage room, lifting a cloud of grey smoke at the back of the store. He still fired for 5 more seconds after that, before finally releasing the trigger and breathing heavily, joyous giggles escaping him as he exhaled.

I'm dead at this point.

"Blunt force damage detected."

I'm dead, right?

"Explosive damage detected."

My body, pushed to a sitting state against the wall of the storage room, flopped forward.

"Artificial adrenaline application in 3..."

"2..."

"1..."

"0."

I felt a sting in my upper spine, and instantly realized that I was very much alive. No just alive, no -- I was the most awake I had ever been. I was so awake that it felt like the whole world around me was suddenly sluggish. Time was moving slowly.

"Aaartificial aaadrenaaaline aaapplieeed. Condiiition criiiitiical. Geeeenerating Ooooptimal Repoooonse Meeeechanism."

"Ooptimal Respoonse Mechanism:"

In the middle of that last sentence, time transitioned back to moving at a normal pace.

"LoserMoto."

The next thing that the police officer saw was a single headlight shining through the smoke. I burst through on the motorcycle that had manifested before me, driving right at him directly. The officer once again pulled the trigger of the gatling gun, but heard only a click as one of the bullets on the belt became stuck. He looked down at desperately fiddled with the belt, and then looked up to see me already right in front of him.

What was going through my mind at this time was "NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!! HOW DO I DRIVE THIS THING!!!!! I'M GONNA KILL SOMEBODY, OH MY GOD!!!!! I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO DRIVE A CAR, LET ALONE THIS OVERDESIGNED PIECE OF SHIT!!!!!!"

"Enemy detected ahead. Engage collision attack?"

Me: NO. NO, DON'T ENGAGE COLLISION ATTACK!!! OH MY GOD!!! I WANNA GO HOME!!!!

"Avoiding collision. Routing to Home."

Just as the officer raised the gatling gun to shield himself against the impact, the bike popped into a wheelie and released a set of massive spring-loaded 'legs' that were folded against its sides, propelling it into the air and over the officer. It handed behind him, drifted a turn, and zipped down the street towards my house, raising a big cloud of dust behind it.

"Disengaging mechanism: LoserMoto."

The bike became a wireframe, and then vanished entirely, dropping me onto my hands and knees on the ground. Barely conscious, I crawled to my front door, and unable to reach to door handle, just sat back against it. With the hesitation of a kid not wanting to look at scrape after falling on the playground, I pressed the button on the belt to withdraw the suit and assess the damage.

I raised my shirt.

A few bruises

A sore abdomen and thigh from where an especially high concentration of bullets hit me.

But... relatively fine? Unscathed? How could that be possible?? I got hit with hundreds of bullets. It certainly felt bad, but I shouldn't be alive, let alone without a scratch.

Officer: Good evening, citizen.

I froze up in fear.

It was the cop. He stood leaning with one hand against one of the cement pillars at the gate to my yard, clearly shaken, with his collar ruffled and now without his gatling gun, but generally back to normal.

Officer: I am in pursuit of an unlawful individual. He wears a mask with big eyes and rides a motorcycle. Did such a man ride by here?

I stared at him for a moment like a deer in headlights, then overcame my paralysis and shook my head.

Officer: ...

Officer: Thank you, citizen. Have a good night, and stay safe.

He leaned away from the wall and shuffled off into the night, occasionally rebalancing against the wall like a drunk person in the early morning.

CHAPTER 3.33: TOJI'S ANGELIC COMPASSION

I never did get that ramen that night. It stayed on the counter in front of the cashier when I got blasted into the backroom by the gatling gun. Afterwards though, stores often throw out damaged and unsold merchandise, and I wouldn't be surprised if that ramen had a few dents on it after that whole situation. It might well be laying in the dumpster behind the store right now, still in its packaging!

I wasn't chancing it with the suit though. Not with that officer around, and certainly not int he light of day. Luckily, the suit had given me enough courage when it comes to going outside to go down the street, at least during the lull when everyone was working, and check it out.

It was there!!

But as I was removing the ramen from the trash container, a figure rounded the corner with a new trash bag.

Oh my god.

It was Toji.

He did still work there after all.

We looked each other in the eyes for a moment. His eyes first widened with surprise upon seeing anybody there at all, then with recognition of who it was he was looking at. Then they were overcome by a strained look of pity.

We both looked down.

After 8 or so grueling seconds of silence, he spoke.

Toji: You... you know, if you want any food, you can just come and take it ... I'll pay for it ...

Me: Um, n-no, it's not what it looks--

Toji: You don't need to explain.

Toji gave me a look of the most angelic compassion I have ever seen, like a mother looking at her newborn.

Toji: Really, it's okay.

I basically had no choice but to take him up on his offer. I got a candy bar and a bag of chips.

He asked me if I had gotten any good rolls on our gacha game recently, and I said "no", but that was a lie because I had bought a $50 points pack and brute forced the most recent ultra-rare.

CHAPTER 3.66: I WANT TO GO HOME

We now cut away from our hero and to a small satellite orbitting our solar system, quite far away, beyond even Pluto.

"What a hassle," says a deep, gravely voice.

A meaty hand takes a cigar between two fingers and puts it out on a ashtray resting on the handle of a chair.

"I just want to go home."

Wants To Go Home: It just had to be that we arrived here... right around when that meddlesome sister of yours decided to slap a hero on this planet.

A purple woman with pointy ears and antennae stood in front of the man, her hands folded behind her back and a stern expression on her face.

Wants To Go Home: And NOW... the rate of suffering on this planet is not even 10% of what it was.

Purple Woman: It could be worse, sir.

Wants To Go Home: True. True, even with a hero, that 10% remaining is a surprisingly high degree of suffering. But nowhere near enough for our ship's engine. We're only at quarter charge, and we've been here 30 years now.

Purple Woman: So not too long.

Wants To Go Home: Not too long, but certainly an inconvenience. Certainly I don't want to be here for 90 MORE years.

Purple Woman: Sir, there is something I entered into my log and wish now to report to you, sir.

Wants To Go Home: What is it? You can just tell me these things, you can drop the formalities.

Purple Woman: Sir, we have touched upon this before. We lack the prerequisite Formalities Dropping Form 10A-74 which would be required for me to drop the formalities, sir.

Wants To Go Home: Alright just tell me.

Purple Woman: My readings have picked up a second hero on the planet.

The man's finger, which had been tapping his cigar, came to an abrupt halt.

Wants To Go Home: A second hero... That's... Isn't that against...

Purple Woman: A violation of Intergalactic Ordinance 152 Section 25 Subsection B. A planet may only have one volition-powered ultraperson per 20 billion sapient residents.

Purple Woman: Or in other words, 1 hero per planet.

Wants To Go Home: Oh... hohoho! So your sister has overstepped. Seems to me like our hands are untied then.

Purple Woman: We are freed of the obligations of the Treaty in this instance. But sir ...

Wants To Go Home: What is it?

Purple Woman: With the appearance of this second hero, our engine's rate of charge has actually risen. By all accounts, the amount of suffering we're receiving has increased.

The man let out a dry laugh, which echoed in the cabin. A booming voice, restrained by exhaustion and the smoke of his cigar, which sent him into a coughing fit.

Wants To Go Home: ...cough cough... gah...fooooo... Ho-How could that be possible?

Purple Woman: It ... well, it might have been me, sir, in some small part. I have been doing sit-ups next to the engine, sir. I wanted to contribute to the charge.

Wants To Go Home: Don't be ridiculous.

The man put his cigar out on the ashtray.

Wants To Go Home: Not to make light of your ever-rigorous exercise routine, but one person could never contribute a noticeable amount to suffering when it comes to a planetary engine.

The Purple Woman looked down at the ground, maintaining composure but showing just a glimpse of disappointment in her eyes

Wants To Go Home: Since your nuisance of a sister has done us the kindness of unbinding us from the Treaty, go down to the planet and assess the situation. Find this second hero. If we allow this to develop any further we might be here for 300 more years, not 90. But

Wants To Go Home: There may be something here for us. This new one must be a rookie. Make him suffer. Squeeze him. Ideal case is he gives up, but maybe we can even turn the two against each other. We'd be out of here in a few short cycles! Hahah...cough...

Purple Woman: ...

Wants To Go Home: Squeeze him so that we can finally go home. Dismissed.