Slayer Anderson

Vote Results - February

Okay, so because the vote results were a little bit less clear-cut, I'm going to post them separately. The first number is the general poll. The second is the upper-tiers poll where they get an extra vote. The third is the number of votes from my Subscribe Star patrons collated into the mix.

Mind Games: 123 + 13 + 6 = 142

Butler Boy: 88 + 25 + 3 = 116

Paldean Knights: 53 + 11 + 1 = 65

The New Ron: 45 + 1 3 + 2 = 60

Industrious: 42 + 9 + 4 = 55

So, as you can see, Mind Games is still pretty firmly in the lead. Butler Boy continues to hold a firm second place. Paldean Knights actually surprised me by pulling into third, and The New Ron and Industrious take up fourth/fifth respectively.

I am currently working on Butler Boy and plan to do either another Mind Games chapter after that or some pokemon. I will go ahead and say that I plan on a New Ron chapter at some point this month, very firmly. If I can find the time, I'll try to squeeze in a chapter of Marvel Industrious as well.

Thank you again for your patience and support, I appreciate both.

Mind Games - Chapter 51

“-so, anyway, Hot Ice promised me that, if I feel too overwhelmed by things, I can have her younger sister, Shoko, substitute for me throughout the week at various times,” I explained to my father.

Niko remained staring at me in a slight daze.

I snorted and raised an eyebrow at him. “You okay there, Dad?”

He jerked, the faint hum of charge in the air replaced by the crash of a large wave against my senses as he came back to himself. “S-sorry, Hi-hitoshi. I, um... I'm just a little surprised that you're going to be... babysitting for All Might.”

“No one's more surprised by this outcome than I am,” I replied, my tone returning to a bland drone... tinged with irritation.

Had I planned this, subconsciously?

I mean, it was easy to point the finger at me. I was a scheming manipulative bastard, after all, but did I deserve the rap this time? Or did I have the wrong asshole fingered for a crime I didn't commit? Hmm...

Looking at things objectively, the issue was that I hadn't predicted All Might coming to UA a year early. Giving him Eri to raise had been a calculated ploy to realign his worldview without Midoriya Izuku becoming his adopted son in all but name. But had it been enough to trigger a moment of intense self-reflection in the man to the point where he decided to step back from heroism and get a more traditional job that gave him more regular hours?

After all, if Toshi was part-timing it at UA, he'd only need to put in four-ish hours day-to-day. That gave him another four hours out of his day to run around saving people and punching bad guys before he needed to be home making a snack for his daughter.

And at that point, he'd need to stay home until Eri was put to bed. After which, if he could beg David Shield for a future-tech nanny-cam, he might be able to sneak in an hour or two of emergency response until turning in for the night.

That all made sense.

But... not to be too mean about it, I just didn't think All Might had his life together enough to come up with that kind of neat and tidy solution. He was stubborn enough to work himself literally to the brink of death by overtaxing his body for half a decade. The man might wear the red, white, and blue as well as any American, but if that wasn't 'death by overwork,' then I don't know what is.

I think I'll blame Nezu.

“Nezu?” My father asked and, in a rare slip, I realized I'd spoken aloud.

“The principal at my school. I'm pretty sure he's one of the heads of some kind of vast, over-arching conspiracy trying to stabilize Japan's place in the current international order,” I explained, voicing my suspicions.

My father stared at me, canting his head to the side oddly. “I-ah... is that one of your jokes or...”

“Not really,” I shook my head with a sigh. “Certain things... don't quite line up without a more intelligent actor pulling the strings from behind the scene. I don't think it was necessarily his idea, but I'm pretty sure he at least endorsed it.”

“Huh,” Niko murmured, confusion still blowing about the room on an insubstantial breeze. “I guess that's part of your other job, then?”

I shrugged, then resumed eating. “A bit. It's nice that someone competent is in charge, at least.”

“Not the prime minister, then?” Dad asked, chuckling at his own joke.

I waved him off. “Not really. He seems... well, the best thing I can say about him is that he's a veteran politician, which means he knows his limits. How far he can push and when to keep his opinions to himself. He doesn't act decisively without a popular mandate. All of that means he's a cautious man, which is something I prefer over more adventurous politicians.”

“Hmm,” Niko nodded slowly, taking a drink from his glass. “Not that I'm a person all that knowledgeable about politics in the first place, but... he's been a steady hand at the wheel, from what I can remember.”

“Which is about the best thing you can hope for with a democratic system,” I sighed, moving my food around. “We elect politicians based mainly on short-term desires and dissatisfaction with our current circumstances, not with any larger plan or goal in mind – domestically or in foreign policy. An executive who was so inclined might be able to destroy quite a bit, but building something different? Something more? That takes coalitions, compromise, a willingness to take electoral hits that diminish partisan power.”

It was a flaw in these 'modern' systems of governance that ran against the grain of my sidereal-self. But it also provided opportunities, if one was in a position to suitably incentivize certain politicians and bureaucrats.

Niko chewed on his food slowly, across from me. There was something... melancholic about the phantasmal sensation of rain and warm sunshine.

“Sorry, I'm rambling,” I sighed, tucking those considerations away. They were long-term plans, anyway. Bigger and bolder initiatives that would only be possible years from now, after I'd amassed enough influence.

“No, no... it's interesting,” Niko assured me, smiling softly. “Just... remembering that you're growing up. You didn't use to talk about things like this.”

I snorted, letting my cheeks flush slightly as I leaned forward to shovel more food in my mouth. “So, anyway, that's why I might be bringing Eri home. I'll try to give you plenty of warning, and All Might's promised to pick her up at the Endeavor Agency, but if he gets tied up in Osaka or Okinawa or something and she needs dinner...”

Niko nodded, waving a hand. “It's fine, Hitoshi. Babysitting puts me a lot more at ease than you going to testify at court. Or hear about you having to shut down your classmates' runaway quirks.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know I just told you that Eri has the same problem, right?”

Niko snorted, wry amusement swirling in the air. “Unless I'm dramatically misunderstanding things, Eri is a child. Your classmates are teenagers who should have developed better life skills by now. Besides, I went through some of what that poor girl did. Nowhere near what you've told me, and I'm not naive enough to think that's the whole story, but-”

Dad. Eri. Quirk.

A random neuron fired.

I'm a fucking moron.

I slammed my head down into my plate, heedless of the food still on it, with enough force to crack the damn thing. Not enough to shatter it and drive ceramic shards into my face, but there was still pain from the impact.

A nice cleansing pain to wash away the sincere stupidity.

“Hitoshi?!” My father asked in a panic as I sat back up, his jaw dropping and an earthquake of alarm rumbling through the room. “What's-”

I triggered my quirk, seizing his mind in my grasp.

Taking a careful breath, I opened my mouth, then closed it. No, not what I'd done with Eri. Not turn off. “Suppress your quirk.”

It was like feeling a glacier move.

The weight that I was so used to receded, inch by painstaking inch. I could feel the contest of quirks underneath the normal domestic scene. My ability was young, growing, but not fully actualized. Powerful, yet still being honed into a weapon. More than that, even, it had a latticework of growth and skill grafted onto it that had taught it new tricks, beyond what most quirks were capable of.

My father's was... colossal in a way I didn't have the right words to describe, at least not in a modern language. Old Realm did, but they translated poorly, if beautifully.

When the sky and heavens above behold you in your insignificance.

Challenge them or die.

It was a lumbering thing, though, having grown fat and apathetic. Unchallenged and clumsy in its attempts to push back against a sudden and powerful blow. Not just untrained, but completely wild, never even attempted to be tamed or controlled. Not in several decades, at least. So long that it had likely forgotten.

Sweat was beading on my forehead, and I reached for Ki-Essence to moderate my internal homeostasis, keep myself balanced and breathing steadily. There was the impulse to truly manifest the power, to strike with occult energies that would truly beat the quirk into submission, but I restrained myself. Going as slow as I was allowed me to ensure no harm would come to my father as I held a finger on the pulse of his fate and weaved around the possible dangers.

Finally, after a psychic duel that felt far longer than the five minutes it appeared to have taken, I sighed in relief.

Psychic Broadcast, my father's quirk, had been boxed up and bound.

I released Shinso Niko from my control.

The man blinked, groaning, reaching up to rub at his head. “Hitoshi? W-why do I feel like someone stuffed my head full of cotton?”

“Because I brainwashed you into suppressing your quirk,” I sighed tiredly, leaning back in my chair with my drink.

Niko blinked eyes a few shades darker than my own, stilling as what I'd just declared echoed through his mind. “Y-you... what!?”

The careful bindings snapped and his quirk exploded outwards in an immaterial rumble. I was grateful to be sitting down in that instant. Regardless of whether or not the force was real, it'd have definitely blown me off my feet.

“Uuuuuuugh,” Dad blinked slowly, making a face like he was about to sneeze. “What the hell...”

I smacked my lips, blinking in slight shock as well. “Well. That was... informative. For a first try.”

“First time?” Niko asked, his eyes seeming to finally focus as the air roiled with emotions like a storm-wracked sea. “Hitoshi... I really don't want to do anything like what just happened ever again, thank you very much.”

“So you want to be drugged out of your mind the next time we go visit Mom, I understand,” I stated, my tone casual and nonjudgmental.

Niko froze for a moment, insight crystallizing in the air. “...”

“Or maybe you want to attend my graduation by video-conference instead of being there to see me walk,” I sighed, nodding. “Or my wedding. I mean, Himiko will be upset, but I can probably-”

“Alright, alright...” Niko sighed, the sound remarkably less enthusiastic than my dismissal had been as he put the palms of both of his hands over his eyes. “I'm going to need to restock on pain killers.”

“It'll be fun,” I smirked. “A real father-son bonding activity.”

“That honestly terrifies me, Hitoshi. I've seen what you call 'light training' when you were doing your streams. I can only imagine what you're going to subject me to,” Dad shivered, his shoulders slumping further. “Now go clean your face, you've got dinner on your forehead.”

I let him have the little victory.

I'd have my revenge soon enough.

...at some point I should let him know that I'm trying to get Mom out of prison.

…

2CUTE-PRINCESS: Hey!

JACKEDIN: ...

2CUTE-PRINCESS: Aww! Don't be mean! Wanna date w/ Hitoshi?

JACKEDIN: Why'd I give you this contact?

2CUTE-PRINCESS: Cuz u lik him! An ur cute!

JACKEDIN: ugh If it weren't 4 your taste in music, I'd wonder if you were really that braindead.

2CUTE-PRINCESS: Hehe! Toshi-kun says, 'still waters run deep.' ;)

JACKEDIN: If I send you a pin for a club I like, will you cut this shit out?

2CUTE-PRINCESS: Nah! Cuz that means it's working!

JACKEDIN: Goddammit.

…

The bar/dance pit/cafe was small, tucked away in a back alley, and with music loud enough that you could feel it in your chest rather than just listening to it with your ears. The neat part, though, was that they had soundproof booths you could rent out with a private speaker system playing music of your choice. After walking through the dimly lit space filled with glowing neon of various kinds and swaying bodies gyrating to a beat I'd heard on the radio a few times...

I casually tripped someone and pulled the canister from his pocket, causing him to spill the drink he'd just dropped a pair of pills into.

I was gone before he could pick himself up off the floor, shifting out of his eyesight and removing the hat I'd been wearing.

Later, I'd pull his picture up from the CCTV system and his name from the payment processor this place had hooked into its digital footprint.

The door shut and the sound cut off.

“You look happy with yourself,” Kyoka observed, leaning up against the far side of the small room, the fold-out table already set up between us.

I tossed her the container I'd just pick-pocketed. “Just stopped a date-rape, so I'm entitled to a little self-satisfaction.”

Jiro, startled as she juggled the bottle briefly before catching it firmly, stared at the container, then at me as I made myself comfortable and picked up a menu. One thing I was still getting used to was ordering shit by app while you sat in the building. I was more than comfortable with delivery and carry out apps, but... well, call me old school, but I came to a restaurant for human interaction, not to paw at a touchscreen.

“Most people... I wouldn't believe that kind of crap,” Jiro hummed, her voice thoughtful as she dropped the bottle in the trash. “But if even half the stories Toga's told me are true...”

I hummed, giving her a nod and making my selection. “She's told you the tamer stories, I'm sure. That one about our first meeting when we got kidnapped by a gang of quirk-traffickers?”

I watched her throat shift as she swallowed. “Y-yeah... I, um... she let me listen to that private stream you made to call out to the heroes.”

Leaning back, I looked her over. Really looked her over, with more than just my eyes. The way she sat, the way her arms were positioned, the movements of her ear-jacks and the tilt of her head. My nose wasn't as good as Himiko's but I could get by in a confined space with only one other human being.

Then I took what I knew of her and put that together with what I was seeing, here and now.

Jiro, rather oddly, had the most characterization of anyone in Class 1-A outside of Bakugo and Midoriya. Considering that less than half the class had visible parents, that wasn't saying all that much, but it was still interesting. Arguably, Jiro even had her own character arc, something that virtually no one could boast of outside of Small Might and Lord Explosion Murder. I guess Icy Hot counted, too, even if I had... issues with his characterization and development.

I'd done enough cursory research into her at this point to ensure what I knew of her was correct.

Two parents. Good relationship despite the age disparity. Loving household. And – actually loving – not the funhouse approximation the Toga family had created. Likes music. Shy about her special interest. An introvert-extrovert switch with a biting sense of personal justice that could flip her from being a part of the scenery to the leading voice in any argument.

Exceptional dislike of perverts.

There were in fact, a pair of disciplinary notes concerning an 'altercation' after a boy had been caught using his quirk to spy on the girl's changing rooms at her school.

“Why me?” She asked, her gaze narrowed intently, then blushed at her sudden outburst. “I-I mean... I want to know. Before I agree on anything. Himiko... she said this was a date, but... it's not a real date until I say so, okay?

“Okay,” I nodded, easily accepting her terms. “Why not you?”

“What's that supposed to mean?” She frowned, her hackles up.

Good, I preferred irritation over that sludge-like mix of melancholy, regret, and unhappiness. “You seem to think there's something wrong with yourself; that there's a reason why I shouldn't or wouldn't pick you. I'm curious what that reason is.”

Jiro frowned, leaning back and cooling her irritation.

“I... I mean, why would you?” She asked, looking off to the side. “I'm not pretty. I start shit over stupid radio pop idols that are just goddamn lip syncing and not actual musicians! I'm gloomy and look like a punk instead of some top-heavy, preppy piece of ass-”

“You're not conventionally pretty, it's true,” I interjected, watching her ire turn on me. “But I think that the flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all.”

Jiro's face turned flaming red as she choked on her rant.

“I'm also more fond of lithe body-types,” I admitted casually, pointedly looking her up and down. “I enjoy a woman who has interests and pursues them, but isn't obsessed or consumed by them. You strike a good balance between having an opinion, expressing it, and not necessarily shoving it down someone's throat unless they try to do the same to you.”

Instinctively, her hands clutched at her chest and she looked away, face still aflame.

Because she didn't hate perverts. Not really. Paradoxically, she hated being dismissed by them as not being worth of attention because she didn't have tits or an ass worth oogling.

Someone staring at her that way – or close to it – appreciating her body? The way she bit at her lower lip and her jacks swirled in agitation told me it wasn't unpleasant.

But there was more to her.

A knock at the door made her jump, and as I opened it, a waiter passed us our order, the noise of the room beyond surging into our space before being abruptly cut off as it closed behind them.

I set about unpacking my utensils and the warm towelette. Japanese service really was on an entirely different level. Jiro stared at the cake she'd ordered, not moving.

“D-did you mean all that?” Jiro asked, finally.

“I wouldn't have said it if I didn't,” I replied bluntly, taking a spoonful of the soup I'd ordered into my mouth.

“Lots of guys would have,” she muttered, her leg bouncing anxiously. “The guys who don't care what you look like, they just want in your pants. They're the worst of all.”

Hmm... she's a little ball of anxiety, self-loathing, and low esteem, isn't she?

She wasn't Himiko, though. She wasn't someone about to accidentally burn their entire life down around them because of decisions forced upon her. She wasn't someone I needed to 'save' from a disastrous spiral that would help destabilize society at large.

I made my decision.

“I bet those guys would give you a rose, if they were trying to be romantic and impress you,” I said, pulling up the sleeve on my right wrist a bit and showing off my hand. “You see anything? Any way to hide something? A fake covering on my finger or clever bit of makeup?”

Jiro frowned, leaning forward and inspecting my hand, moving her head this way and that before looking back up, into my eyes. “No, I guess not.”

“Cool,” I nodded, showing her the palm and waggling my fingers. “Watch closely, alright?”

The punk girl nodded, her eyes locked on my hand as it closed, then opened-

-and a rich, deep purple-pink flower emerged.

Jiro blinked, looking between me and the flower, then slowly taking it from my hand as I offered it. Giving it a small sniff, she smiled as she blushed, turning towards me as I fixed my sleeve. “Okay, I'll bite. How'd you do that? And this isn't a rose, is it?”

“No, it's not,” I replied, taking a sip of my tea. “It's a flower called oleander. In the west, it has a complicated meaning. Beauty, caution, and deep, even dangerous, love.”

Jiro's blush deepened as she held it close, nibbling at her lip again.

“Here in Japan, though, it's a symbol of rebirth, hope, and resilience. They were the first flowers to bloom in Hiroshima after the bomb dropped,” I continued to explain.

Jiro's tongue traced her lips as she stared at me. “Which meaning...”

“Both,” I informed her, making her snort slightly and grin. “As to how I did it? I pulled it from a pocket dimension I have welded onto my soul.”

Jiro snorted again, actually laughing at that as the tension flowed out of her. “Okay, so really...”

“Really,” I nodded at her, preoccupying myself with eating my soup. “While I'm publicly employed by the Endeavor Agency, I'm actually an agent for the Celestial Bureaucracy. In order to accomplish my various missions, they gave me a number of... enhancements. Powers and abilities that would each count as a quirk on their own, but I have in multitudes.”

The girl across from me cocked her head, narrowing her gaze at me. “Is this... some kind of joke?”

I huffed a laugh and held out my hand again, summoning my phone and making her jump a little. A flower was one thing, but a full smartphone? Setting it on the table, I next produced the bento I kept for emergencies. Then a pair of thick books. And finally a large can of pepper spray I carried for when someone gave me a good enough excuse.

“You tell me,” I offered her, swallowing my soup and going for my tea with one hand before making the entire stack disappear with my other, making her jump again. “You should try your cake, it looks delicious.”

Her jaw worked silently at that. “Y-you want me to eat cake after you show me something like that!? You have a brainwashing quirk, so I know it can't be that! H-how... a-are you serious? About all that shit with working for some floaty angel dipshits up in the clouds?”

I snorted and shook my head, wearing a wry grin. “They're nothing like that, believe me. But, yes, I expect you to eat your cake. It'd be a shame for it to go to waste, after all.”

Jiro rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she wiped her hands and attacked the dessert angrily with a fork. Her eyes widening as she tasted it, she took a sip of her coffee to wash it down with, before sighing. “Okay, so... what the fuck. Why tell me about this shit?”

“To intentionally scare you off and make you act in your own self-interest,” I explained succinctly.

“Huh?” She blinked.

“You seem to think this is about a relationship. About love, sex, dating... normal teenage things. Maybe a bit of tutoring since you want to get into UA next year?” I asked, and she grimaced with a bit of shame before nodding. “This isn't that. This is more like a job offer. One you can't walk away from, ever. This isn't a date, it's the first in a series of interviews where I gauge if you're a good fit for what I need.”

“...and what do you need?” Jiro asked, sliding her fork through a much smaller bite of her cake.

“I need someone level-headed,” I stated. “Someone reasonable, who's not prone to flights of fancy. Practical, but not boring. Someone who knows how to have fun, who doesn't have an incompatible moral compass, but is also flexible enough to understand that – sometimes – the ends do justify the means.”

Jiro took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as she toyed with her fork, tapping it on the saucer to a slow beat.

We sat like that for a while, silently contemplating the matter at hand.

Or, well, Jiro did. I just enjoyed my soup. Come what may, the die was cast.

“You said, 'scare me off,'” she frowned at me. “What's that mean?”

“It means that you should finish your cake, politely tell me to screw off, and never speak to either myself or Himiko again,” I told her in no uncertain terms, making her frown in incomprehension. “Are you familiar with the old adage, 'To whom much is given, much is required'?”

Jiro shook her head, “I can get the meaning, though.”

“Good,” I nodded. “The 'job benefits' are substantial. Immortality isn't all that difficult to acquire, for instance.”

Her eyes bulged.

“I can get you skills, abilities, a lot of things that would count as a separate quirk in their own right,” I continued. “But it's a dangerous life. Also one that imposes rules and restrictions on you. Like not being able to tell anyone where you're going or what you're doing. Lying to people, constantly. Especially those you love.”

Jiro twisted in her seat, working her throat as she swallowed. “And if we get halfway through these 'interviews' and I decide I don't want the job?”

“I wipe your memory,” I stated. “Which means we'll break up, you'll have had fun but realized the relationship wasn't for you and we'll have parted on good terms.”

“I thought you could just use your quirk to make people do things,” Jiro stated, picking up her coffee morosely. “Not... that.”

“I did say that you'd need to lie to everyone around you,” I reminded her. “That includes some of what you can do. Always keeping a few aces up your sleeve.”

Jiro made a noise of understanding, then met my gaze directly. “Okay, say I'm in. What happens next?”

I sighed, partially in relief and partially in disbelief. A flashdrive appeared in my fingers. “Take that home and plug it into your computer.”

Jiro picked up the device when I set it down between us. “What is it? Information about... that celestial office crap?”

“It's spyware,” I told her with a snort. “It will completely infect your computer and spread to your phone, completely compromising any form of privacy you have as far as I'm concerned. I'll be able to look through your browsing history, check your downloads, view homework assignments... anything and everything you've ever done on your computer.”

She inhaled deeply, her knuckles clenching around the small drive. She looked at me in disbelief. “You-”

“If you have a problem with that, you might as well just quit here and now,” I snorted. “This is the least invasive it gets.”

Jiro's leg was bouncing again, her look a focused concentration of frustration and temptation.

She slipped the drive into her pocket and met my gaze again. “Now what?”

“Now you pick the music and I ask how your school year is going so far,” I smiled, enjoying her look of surprise and disbelief. “One of the big rules is that you only try to handle so much heavy shit at the same time. The rest of this date is just us chatting and getting to know each other.”

Understanding flowed across her face. “Yeah... okay. I can get that. Enough heavy shit. So... I guess, I've got this station I've been listening to. It's digital, but they've got a lot of the Second New Age psychedelic rock playing. Not all of it's great, but we can talk through it and it won't get too loud.”

As she found the station on the built-in speakers, I smiled and listened to her talk about her classes while I explained what a day in the Endeavor Agency was like.

~~~

Ah, this one was fun. Two interesting conversations to be had. One with Hitoshi's dad, whom we haven't seen in a while and another with Jiro, who's finally starting in on her path.

Next chapter will be a quick stop by UA before Shinso has his first day in court. I'm sure I won't cry tears of blood in sheer frustration at having to write a courtroom drama.

Anyway, there's that and we'll soon meet the adorable Eri for more content there, as well.

Next update? Probably Butler Boy.

Reminder, though, that voting is still up.

February Favoritism

Okay, second month of the year, let's boogie!

Alright, as promised back at New Year's, I'll be swapping out SAO for pokemon this voting session and we'll see how things turn out. I'm always open to move things around and experiment.

For anyone new, first of all welcome! Thanks for stopping by!

All of my returning patrons, thank you too! I really appreciate the support and feedback!

Now, as to how this works, you vote for the thing you want to see the most chapters of and I try to oblige. I'm usually pretty successful, though occasionally stray from that goal. Mind Games has been on... a bit of a hot streak, but Butler Boy has come close to dethroning it a few times, now. Regardless of what wins, I hope everyone enjoys the new chapters coming out this month!

Paldean Knights - Chapter 7

Alola will claim that hawlucha is one of their native species.

Paldea will say that it's one of theirs.

It's very clear that the flying-fighting type was one of the early transplants from one of the regions to the other. I mean, space-llama magic being what it is, there's entirely the possibility that the species originated in both regions simultaneously or was time-traveled back into existence by someone who ran into celebi or something.

But my money was on hawlucha being Paldean.

And that wasn't just regional pride talking, either.

While the debacle with the Four Treasures had destroyed a lot of history, there were some murals that depicted birds that looked a lot like hawlucha fighting side-by-side with the early Paldean Knights as they invaded Orre to the south in the first wave of expansion beyond our homeland. Now, they were disputed, but... on a meta-level, hawlucha was totally a luchadore.

I mean, c'mon.

But the Kahuna very much like to insist that the Old Empire were looters and raiders instead of traders and explorers. Which... yeah, there definitely was raiding and looting going on, but there's also a reason why certain Kahuna are blacklisted from the islands' histories, yet have lavish tombs and surviving descendants with deep pockets even today.

What I’m saying is that there was also a lot of trade going on, and hawlucha populations dipped suddenly around the time when we got into contact with Alola.

For some mysterious reason.

Pawmot, on the other hand, is much more cut and dry.

It's a Paldean original, full stop.

Three stages from pawmi, pawmo, and pawmot. The first is pure electric, the second and final forms are dual-type electric-fighting. Academically, there's some discussion as to whether or not they're an evolutionary (the slow kind) off-shoot of the raichu line. They tend to be heavier, more muscular, slightly taller, and more prone to hibernating than the electric squirrels are, though.

Unlike hawlucha, they're also illegal to export and are on a restricted list for traveling trainers along with about three dozen other pokemon that are regionally-recognized as some of the last true Paldea ecological heritage. Within Paldea, though, they're very common, very friendly, and have a good bit of potential to turn into a top-tier battler.

Oh, and I've heard that researchers have actual fist-fights over whether or not it qualifies as a 'bond evolution' or not, so there's that too.

“Let's get moving!” Nemona cried, and that was good enough for the start of the battle.

“Paw!” The orange-yellow pokemon cried, beginning to bounce around the field energetically.

Agility, huh... interesting that she's not going for the quick finisher.

Hawlucha, after all, had a secondary flying typing. That meant a weakness to electric types. And this pawmot had been in a top eight team for a conference battler. Nemona could have finished this in one blow, if she'd wanted to. Regardless of my pride in the above-average size and strength of pokemon in this reserve, they were still wild pokemon.

And the vast majority of wild pokemon just couldn't stand up to a competently-trained one.

Especially with type advantage.

I watched as the hawlucha stayed back, brandishing its claws as they shone with dark energy.

“Mow!” Sprigatito cried from my shoulder, keenly watching the battle.

“Yep, that's right. It just used 'hone claws,'” I nodded, recognizing the dark-type move as a common preparatory move for their breed. “You already know that one, huh?”

If hawlucha loved to do one thing above all else, it was to show off.

“Prr,” Sprigatito rumbled, nodding proudly.

“Make it fast!” Nemona ordered, and – in an instant – Pawmot was across the field.

Agility into quick attack, basic but useful. Speeding up into a priority move.

I blinked. W-was she tutoring me?

Hawlucha was struck, sent reeling, but landed on his feet with a slight stagger. Then he turned and glowed with grayish-

Pawmot's eyes widened and he sped up again, launching himself across the grassy field and heading right into a-

I blinked again, tilting my head as Pawmot's back slammed into the ground. “Did he just clothesline that pawmot?”

“Encore and wing attack!” Nemona gushed. “Oh, you'll be a great addition to my team. Pawmot, let's finish this! Strike him down!”

That seemed to be all the encouragement her pokemon needed as, with a mighty heave, it was up and glowing a bright yellow. The air around us stung with a static charge before the move was released. Instantly, hawlucha tried to dodge, but it was no use as the yellow energy transitioned to a blue cage of expanding lightning.

“Discharge.” Nemona's quiet declaration rang out, her grin just as fierce as Pawmot's. “Paw-Paw!”

“Lucha!” The bird across from him replied in a sharp caw as he stood up...

Or tried to. Small arcs of electricity coursed over its legs and I grimaced.

“Mrow?” Sprigatito asked.

“Paralysis,” I told her, not taking my eyes off the climax of the battle. “Hawlucha will have a hard time moving until it gets treated or healed. That's in addition to the damage it took.”

“I don't want to hurt you,” Nemona stated loudly, taking a step forward. “Is that enough? If you become my pokemon, I'll make you strong, I promise!”

I frowned again, my eyes flicking between the trainer and the injured flying-type.

Does she really not know? Is all that instinctual?

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. She was a high-level ace trainer, no doubt. But still... there was only so much you could practice and train. Some things boiled down to natural aptitude and talent, even if you didn't know you had it.

“Haw!” The pokemon cried out defiantly, then winced as it tried to move again.

It was still clearly ready for a fight.

Nemona frowned, then snorted as her expression twisted into a smile. “I admire your spirit! I'll catch you after you're knocked out. Alright then, get ready! The next one is going to finish it!”

Hawlucha nodded jerkily, readying himself.

“Thunder shock!” Nemona cried.

“Pawmot!” Her pokemon roared, glowing again.

“Hawlucha!” The bird shouted back, shifting subtly as its eyes gleamed with the faintest orange light.

My eyebrows rose and my lips twisted upwards.

The lightning didn't hit. By the slimmest of margins, the bird danced between the strikes, pushing itself through the paralysis as it desperately tried to keep up. Then, as the attack faded, hawlucha jumped, hit the ground, and went high-

“It bounced, Pawmot!” Nemona shouted. “Take the hit and nuzzle it!”

“HAAAA-AAAAAW!” Hawlucha cried out at the apex of its jump.

“PAW!” Pawmot shouted, determined as it set its feet in the ground, ready to absorb the blow.

The collision of the two monsters was heavy, the ground shaking briefly as they collided. Pawmot had been knocked flat once again, but he'd held on as he fell, taking Hawlucha with him to the ground this time. And, in the wake of their mutual collapse, sparkling electrical discharge filled the air once again.

“Haw!” The bird squeaked, pulsing with the discharge of another electrical attack, then collapsed entirely.

A moment of quiet expectation hung in the air.

“Phew!” Nemona sighed, chuckling in relief. “That was a nasty little surprise. I can't believe you already know detect, too. Man, you're going to be useful.”

“Mrow?” Sprigatito asked as she looked up from my lap.

“Detect is a move that can prevent damage from an opponent's technique, if it's successful. You usually find it commonly among fighting types and normal types, though some other types have it – a few dark and ghost types, even.”

“Mow?” She asked again, tilting her head as Nemona pulled out a pokeball and threw it, Pawmot having gently lowered the unconscious hawlucha off itself and onto the grass beside it.

“Ah... no, you don't learn that one normally,” I replied, carefully searching my memory. The sprigatito line had a fairly well-documented traditional move set. “But you do learn protect, which is usually called its counterpart. Instead of allowing you to dodge or miss damage, protect shields you from it. Very useful.”

She purred and nodded, then leaped up onto my shoulder as I nudged her so I could stand.

“Good battle,” Lyra offered, giving Nemona a respectful nod.

“Thanks!” The tanned girl grinned, her cheeks flushed with energy, then she grinned at me as she picked up her now-full pokeball. “I hope the prince was paying attention, too!”

“I was,” I nodded respectfully. “I wouldn't pass up a chance to get a few tips in.”

“Good, I'm glad-” Nemona began, then was cut off by a ruckus.

“Haw-Haw-Lucha!” The pair of birds behind us cheered excitedly.

Nemona and Lyra tensed.

“Are they going to attack?" Lyra asked, looking to me.

I snorted, shaking my head. “They're celebrating. Hey, we're going to head off, okay? You guys can have your party!”

There was a quick exchange of calls, then another cheer as they bounced into the trees and disappeared. Instantly, Lyra and Nemona relaxed as their calls faded into the distance.

Really? I mean, c'mon... even if you don't understand them, it's pretty obvious from tone and posture that they were happy!

“Okay, we should be heading... that way,” I pointed off towards a thicker tree that cut through the afternoon sun and cast deeper shade.

“Ah,” Lyra said, sighing.

“What's wrong?” Nemona asked, looking between us.

“That's the bug-type section of the forest,” Lyra sighed, rubbing at her short-cropped red hair. “With a bunch of ghost types sprinkled in.”

“It's during the day, so most of the ghosts will be sleeping,” I waved her off, then paused. “Actually, the bugs we'll be going for are usually nocturnal as well. But they'll get up for me.”

“Huh, there are ghost types here, in the forest?” Nemona asked, looking around. “I thought ghosts mostly preferred abandoned areas that were... built by humans?”

“For the most part, that's the case.” I hummed, then paused in my walking. “But the catacombs beneath the palace extend at least partially underneath this forest. So ghosts frequently phase through the ground to get up here.”

“Catacombs?” Nemona asked, looking down at her feet. “I've never heard about those...”

“They're not frequently a subject of polite conversation,” Lyra chimed in, her tone slightly reprimanding, and I just rolled my eyes. “But, yes, there are catacombs beneath the palace. They were originally constructed in the wake of the Four Treasures, but have been expanded over the centuries to serve as burial grounds for the royal family.”

“Hmm... yeah, I guess a place like that would be popular with ghost pokemon,” Nemona hummed aloud. “Are there any interesting lines down there?”

“Gengar, golurk, mismagus, polteageist, a cofagrigus or two, sabeleye, chandelure, banette, a few houndstone, gimmighoul... I think that's it,” I muttered, thinking over all of the ghosts I'd seen down there. “Plus a few others. Bugs that like the dark. Dark types, too, obviously.”

“...that's a lot of ghosts,” Nemona replied, her eyes wide.

“There are two or three that prefer the forest, though,” I nodded off to the side where a series of small stumps were nearly-hidden next to a small pond. “Phantump, for instance. Ghost-grass dual types tend to prefer habitats where they can get sun, feel the wind, and have fresh water.”

“How many ghost types are there around here?” Nemona asked in disbelief, her head on a swivel.

“Not quite all of them...” I frowned in mild disappointment. “Seriously, would it be too much to ask for a honedge?”

“Ahh... I know that feel,” Nemona chuckled. “Those are popular ghosts in Kalos and Galar, aren't they?”

I nodded grumpily. “Ghost-steel types, very good pokemon. They're on the short list of pokemon I'd like to have on whatever team I eventually build for the conference.”

“Though... Miss Lyra, you must have a high tolerance for ghosts if you follow him down into the catacombs and all around this forest,” Nemona grinned. “I'm impressed.”

“Ah...” Lyra began, wincing.

“I usually don't bother her when I head down there or come out here,” I waved Nemona off as I looked around and spotted the specific tree I was looking for.

“Eh?” Nemona blinked, staring at me. “But... you just got your starter today, didn't you?”

“Yeah, why?” I asked, mostly preoccupied with pulling berries out of my bag. I knew which ones these guys liked.

“So... who, um... escorted you?” Nemona asked awkwardly. “Your parents are usually busy, right?”

“I usually just go by myself,” I shrugged, setting my bag down fully and kneeling by the tree. Sprigatito shifted on my shoulders and I paused for a moment, adjusting to the weight. I'd need to get used to that. I mean, there was someone who had played babysitter for a while. But I couldn't exactly talk about Aunt Francisca without starting a whole shitstorm, so... “Let's see, how did that go? Right.”

Shave and a haircut, two bits!

“You go by yourself,” Nemona replied in a dull tone of disbelief.

“Shh,” I cautioned her as part of the bark began to move. “They're skittish. No loud noises.”

Lyra sighed in the background, taking a step back.

I did the knock again and, slowly, the patch of bark moved out of the way entirely. A sleepy bug finally came to the exit of the small underground din, flexing its mandibles in a wide yawn. Why did bugs yawn? No fucking clue.

“Niii~iiin,” it whined, squinting against the dim sunlight streaming through the densely-packed trees.

“Oh? Not even for berries?” I asked, showing one off and getting its attention. “I thought so.”

“Nin-nin!” Nincada chirped out tilting its feelers back towards the opening under the tree.

“Oh, what are those?” Nemona asked.

“Nincada,” I replied, glad that she was at least keeping her volume low. “Bug-ground dual-type. Not native to the region, so you wouldn't know them. They're actually listed as an invasive species and you're supposed to report them to rangers if you find them.”

“Really?” Nemona frowned. “I've heard of that, but... the only other pokemon I can remember on those lists are... pidgey? Yeah, I think that one. Tiny bird, right?”

I snorted, nodding as a few more nincada streamed out of the nest, selecting berries as they emerged. “They compete with rookidee over common food sources and, when they're not doing that, they and their evolutions devastate the arboliva line's olive crops and oil.”

Yep, pigdey was illegal in Paldea.

Or, well... not illegal, necessarily. You could still import one and they were common enough no one really cared when you brought one to a different region, but they were absolutely illegal to release into the wild here. The mountain range between us and Kalos kept all but the rare and stubborn pidgey out of the region, so the only way for them to get here – usually – was for them to be smuggled or released by careless trainers.

“Nincada have a similar problem to pidgey,” I sighed, doling out scratches and attention to the timid bug types. “They're mostly-nocturnal and make dens underneath trees, but the species of tree that they prefer isn't native to Paldea, either. Our trees don't take kindly to bug types making giant burrows underneath their root systems, so it kills them. The trees around here, that cast more shade? Those are a variety from Galar that won't be harmed by their nesting habits. There was an incident...

I paused, thinking about it.

“...about fifty years ago?” I nodded slowly. “Where a breeder died and his stock got loose into an orchard next to his land. Ruined not just the crop, but the trees as well. He'd been trying to introduce them to profit off the webbing they make. It's unusually strong and can seal cement cracks in large structures.”

“Why not just use spidops?” Nemona asked. “I thought people used them for that, plus they're... well, they're okay battlers, too. And if those are ground types, you wouldn't be able to use them near or underwater, would you?”

I chuckled. “Yeah, that's pretty much what everyone he tried to sell them to thought as well. Spidops webbing isn't the best at it, but no one really wants to pay top-dollar when something less expensive will get the job done. So no one really wanted to buy one.”

“That's a shame, they're pretty cute for bug types,” Nemona hummed, taking a cautious step over and holding out a hand for one to rub their antenna along. “Not poisonous, right?”

“They can pick up a poison type move or two if they get strong enough,” I replied, watching her tense as she tentatively pet one. “But not in the wild, no. They're naturally very timid pokemon, hibernate for significant portions of any given month, and generally don't like battling.”

“Huh,” the tanned girl muttered, looking at me oddly. “And... you want one, right?”

“Mow?” Sprigatito asked, having been observing the pale bugs curiously. “Mrow?”

I chuckled and nodded. “Don't worry, any pokemon can become strong enough if you train it well. And... there are always exceptions to every rule.”

At last, one final nincada stumbled out of the nest, limbering up in the warm air before pracning over to me. He was a bit bigger than the others, a bit more muscular and focused. We'd worked hard at building up a tolerance for light, after all. “Hey buddy, I know it's early, but are you still on board?”

The bug paused, rearing up slightly in surprise. Large, over-sized eyes blinked at me, neon green irises growing and shrinking as it focused on me.

“Cada?” He chirped, tilting his head.

“If you still want to see the world,” I nodded, pulling out a pokeball.

“Inca?” He pressed.

“Yep, I promise,” I replied, unwilling to vocalize the specifics. Like almost every pokemon who could, he wanted to evolve. Even if I guaranteed that, though, Nemona didn't need to know about the surprise that it would generate.

I really didn't know what was up with the pokedex that nincada wasn't detailed.

I'd even checked to see if Professor Oak was alive and, by all appearances, he was perfectly fine running a research lab. Granted, it appeared to be in Viridian instead of Pallet, for some unknown reason, but he'd done a lot of work on the 'dex as per what I knew of canon. Granted the pokedex I expected to get at school looked more like a huge '80's-style cell phone brick than the sleek and modern smartphone I'd seen in the later versions.

So, yeah, fuck if I know why poke-tech was just not quite as advanced, but I'm kind of glad I got shortchanged on the 'dex rather than... healing or whatever.

Maybe Sinnoh had more information on them? I remember some being in the Eterna Forest vaguely, but they were rare in Kalos, and Galar considered them pests.

Heck, my parents and grandparents only knew about nincada because of the infestation I'd mentioned earlier and my own chattering about them. Because nincada were generally pretty reclusive pokemon. You had to go out of your way to find them, moreso than most others. They also tended towards being nocturnal, which reduced their 'encounter rate' further.

...and, honestly, I wasn't all that confused about why no one had reported them evolving. Ghost types had a pretty bad rep in most regions, even if Paldea, Galar, and Kalos were better than most of the other regions. If you caught a 'neat bug type' for the sake of rarity and one day it evolved, producing two pokemon, one of which was a shed husk that happened to be a ghost-type...

A lot of people probably ran screaming from that discovery and, without evidence, people understandably called bullshit.

Or, a worse possible outcome was that they looked into the haunted husk where ninjask removed itself from the shell.

If I recall correctly, there were pokedex entries that indicated it, 'stole your spirit' if you looked inside. So... any trainer unlucky enough to decide to closely inspect their newly-evolved pokemon might have just ended up dead. I considered it... somewhat unlikely that shedinja accidentally killed its trainers, but... I mean, mimikyu existed.

I wasn't going to risk it, in other words.

Hmm... maybe make shedinja a little cape or something?

I pushed that thought aside as I extended the pokeball to nincada and smiled. “You still want a place on my team, it's yours, buddy.”

“Nin!” It chirped and leaned into the ball, tapping it and allowing it to open and suck the bug into it in a swirl of red light.

Beside me, Nemona made a noise of frustration, and I blinked as I turned to her. “What?”

“Nothing,” she sighed, rubbing at her face tiredly.

I traded a look with sprigatito and shrugged.

“Okay, I'll be visiting a little less now that I'm moving to a bigger nest, guys,” I warned them, rubbing at various carapaces and doling out a few more berries. “But I'll try to swing by every now and then, okay? Oh, and the offer's still open if you want to move to my stable. Think about it and I'll transfer you next week if you like the idea.”

There were a few more chirps and attention-seeking probes sent my way, but we were allowed to leave without further fanfare, the pokemon filing back into the underground den and sealing it behind them.

“So, I've got to ask... you going to fill up your entire team today?” Nemona poked me lightly, her expression curious. “I think that'd be a first, as far as I've heard.”

“Well, I already had my egg,” I pointed out, tapping the incubator's case from where it hung under my left arm. “Sprigatito makes two. Smoliv is three. Nincada is four. We've only got one more to pick up today, though, so I should have an empty spot on my battle team.”

“Oh, what's left? Want one of those stump-ghosts we passed? Another grass type?” Nemona guessed.

I chuckled and shook my head, grabbing my bag and standing up as I dusted myself off. “Nope to all three. But we've got to get to the other side of the forest from the hawlucha, though.”

The curiosity in her gaze intensified as Lyra sighed deeply. “Your highness... they're a nuisance.”

“A useful one, though!” I replied happily.

~~~

>Starts to write Mind Games.

>Finds himself a thousand words into a chapter of pokemon.

Anyway! I hope people enjoy more pokemon. Again, just on a kick for this story for some reason. I've got one more chapter in this introduction arc and then we'll be back at the house doing some training and having a birthday before going to school. That'll be fun. Also, I've planned a few surprises to give Aznaro an unexpected friend group and some deep plot hooks for later on. Also, this is a buffer chapter, so enjoy having a larger stack of exclusive stuff for this one as it builds to its own thread.

As for the next update? Definitely Mind Games. Got a good chapter planned and should have it up in a few days. My regular work hours do restart on Monday, what with the big storm's leavings finally defrosted, but I'll still try to get a headstart on the chapter tomorrow.

February Polls will be up in an hour or so, look forward to that.

Where Your God Is - Chapter 19

“-but the worst part of their behavior is their claim of sovereignty over the whole of this land's forests,” Kizmel explained to Asuna, who nodded firmly, having long-since been talked around to the Dark Elf's POV for the ongoing conflict. “They would deny us even basic hunting rights such that we need to feed our people!”

“That's awful!” Asuna cried, scandalized.

I sighed, turning my head to the right carefully and making eye contact with Mito, who winced and looked away, her cheeks flushing.

“Soo... A-chan might have a future as a role-player, good to know,” Argo snickered as Leafa giggled and Sinon pressed her lips together tightly. “Havin' fun there, Kii-bou?”

“No idea what you're talking about.”

My firm response only drew more snickers from the impish blond as she cupped her chin with a fully-extended thumb and forefinger, making a right angle to rest on as she smirked at me slyly. “O'rly? You're carryin' a heavy load there. Surprised you can even hear me, looks like ya' got somethin in yer rear-ops! I meant ear, slip of the tongue.”

Then she slipped around to my left side, where she knew full well I couldn't see her.

I sighed, that side of my vision completely blocked by shapely and attractive forest elf ass.

“Ha. Hah.” I stated, my tone bland and unimpressed. “3/10, the puns could have been better.”

“You shouldn't encourage her, nii-chan,” Leafa sighed as Argo lost her shit, cackling like a madwoman. “She'll just try harder.”

“Good, I have a high standard if one of the people I love is going to engage in shenanigans,” I replied airily, enjoying the sound of Argo choking on her own laughter.

“K-K-Kii-bou!” Argo squeaked.

“What, didn't hear me? Sorry, there must be something blocking my voice. I was just talking about how much I love you, Argo,” I said, increasing my volume.

Leafa giggled again, “Oooh... right. Argo's one weakness... being reminded that we love her!”

“Ack!” Argo cried out, and I could imagine her seizing like she was having a heart attack.

“Oh, what's this? The Shadowblade and Leafa are proclaiming their affection for the same woman?” Kizmel asked, gasping in surprise and delight. “But were you not wed to Lady Sinon?”

Mito and Asuna gasped, this time, stumbling audibly in shock.

“W-w-wait! Sinon! You and Ki-Ki-Kirito are m-married?!” Asuna cried out.

I groaned while Leafa continued to amuse herself at our collective suffering. “It's a game mechanic. It lets you share inventory space so that you can access a mutual pool of items and money. So if, say... one of you is on the tenth floor doing a quest and the other is on the third and runs out of an herb they need, then you don't have to risk interrupting them in the middle of combat to get a transfer.”

“Oh!” Asuna squeaked, sounding abashed. “Ah... I'm sorry for assuming.”

“Don't be!” Leafa snorted. “Argo and I have gotten married, too! And occasionally we switch it up, even!”

Sinon gave a grunt that I matched – in my head – with a severe blush. “A few times, yeah.”

Mito coughed harshly, and I think she got the innuendo being laid down. “A-anyway, yeah. It's something plenty of players did in the beta as kind of a gag, though sometimes spouses would turn on each other and kill one another for the items. There was kind of an epidemic of that at one point...”

“Truly the customs of you players are even stranger than those of the forest elves,” Kizmel shook her head. “But, then... none of you are currently wed to Kirito?”

I blinked. “Ah... no, we're not? I don't think that carried over from the beta?”

“Doesn't look like,” Sinon hummed, while Argo and Leafa gave negatives as well.

“I think it just slipped our minds, what with how busy we've been,” I said, rifling through my settings to confirm my own lack of nuptials. “We should get that fixed. I forget, is there a chapel on this floor?”

“Oh, if Kirito is unwed, then I shall make my bid!” Kizmel cried happily, running up to take my hand.

“Huh/Wha?/Uh-/Wait/Ah?”

Belatedly, I realized that my own voice was among the clueless objections to what had just happened.

Kizmel blushed as I stopped in my tracks. “You are the Shadowblade, a famed Elf Friend who has aided my people many time. You have also saved my life. I am sure my father will bless the union!”

“I, um...” I turned to Leafa with wide eyes, then back to Kizmel's purple-eyed gaze. “Umm... wh-what of Lady Sinon, who is my lover?”

Sinon made a noise that tried to be words, but failed.

Kizmel shook her head. “One thing the forest elves have kept true to our formerly-shared culture is that we are not like you players. Elves do not begrudge love between two people! Even should there be a vow between you and another to be true to each other, as long as there is no lie, it is all well and good!”

I blinked. Had that been in the game lore? That all elves were polyamorous?

“I'm suddenly reminded of the fact that most of the high-level programmers were sexually-frustrated nerd who worked eighty-hour weeks and practically lived at their offices,” I muttered into the ensuing silence of the forest surrounding us.

Now, truth be told, that wasn't an entirely fair criticism.

But, on the one hand, Japanese work culture destroyed the lives of people the people who operated within that social construct. There was a reason my language had a work which translated directly as, 'death by overwork.' The infamous Black Companies were far, far worse than the atmosphere we had at Argus, but even at a relatively upstanding company like Kayaba's employees were expected to put in a few dozen overtime hours each month.

The one time I'd tried to pull overtime, Rinko had shown up at my house with a gun and warned me off doing so very thoroughly.

Which, hey, the gun had turned out to be fake, so no harm no foul, but still.

And on the other hand, there was the lead up to Day One release for major Triple A titles, which Sword Art Online was so far beyond it wasn't even funny. Even for lower-tier games, those weeks – or sometimes months – were an insane crunch where people just fucking didn't go home.

So no, I knew for a fact that some of the programmers were married with children. I didn't exactly know how that had happened. Or, for that matter, when they'd last seen either their wife or kids. But I knew it was true.

Well, okay... I know it's either true or they're pathological liars who are gaslighting themselves into thinking they have a life outside of work, complete with photoshopped images...

...what was I thinking about?

Oh! Right!

“Did you know about this?” Sinon leaned over and whispered in my ear.

The ear that wasn't blocked by shapely elf princess butt, just to be clear.

“Contrary to popular opinion, I do not actually have enough time to memorize every line of lore that... Cardinal... outputs...” I trailed off, pursing my lips.

“Oooooh,” Argo hummed, thinking the matter over. Even if she wasn't quite as deep into the industry as I was, Argo had a network of connections she'd built during the SAO beta and playing other games. She knew leakers, understood most of the lingo, and was familiar with how detail-oriented content like this was generated.

“Yep,” I nodded. “I'm blaming the AI for this one. Cardinal has some explaining to do.”

You are in some serious trouble, young lady... right after I hug you and stop crying once I'm sure you're alive and safe.

“I-I suppose you would need some time to think about it,” Kizmel blushed, her fingers beginning to interlace with each other and her ears dipping slightly.

“I'll... ah, give you an answer after I speak with my party,” I stated awkwardly, looking around at the girls. “If-if we... um, are to wed, you would join our group, would you not?”

Kizmel blinked, jerking slightly in surprise, then nodding. “I suppose this was a bit impulsive of me, wasn't it? Still, I have tendered my offer, Shadowblade, I hope you consider it. I believe we would make a good match. Now, I should get us to the camp before our hostage wakes up and makes travel difficult.”

“I-I'm sorry... what just happened?” Asuna asked in an undertone of a hiss, looking between us.

I sighed and palmed my face. “Okay, so... I probably triggered some kind of event flag back when we took down Triniel. I gave Kizmel the princess' tiara-”

“I could have hocked that,” Argo muttered.

“-specifically because it was the kind of item that didn't have any enchantments or notable enhancements for wearing it. Pulling that kind of thing off a high-ranking enemy screams 'important event item,'” I explained.

“So you knew what you were doing, then,” Sinon stated, looking back at me from where she was now walking ahead.

“I knew I might be triggering an event flag,” I replied in a frustrated hiss, then took a breath. “Sorry, sorry... it's just... under normal conditions, I think this would have been the start of a quest to gain Kizmel's affections, now that I think about it.”

“How so?” Mito asked, her tone quietly amused. “I can't wait to hear this.”

“Okay, so I heard a rumor,” I told them slowly, “that they'd taken Kizmel off the encounters list from this floor. You were only supposed to meet her a lot later in the <<Elf War>>, and only if you'd made significant progress on the quest as a whole. That's what her whole thing about 'providing my people help' was.”

“Oh, I think I get it,” Leafa hummed as we walked, thinking it over as she started flipping up fingers on her right hand. “You accomplish a bunch of important goals within the larger questline, then you get introduced to Kizmel, then you start grinding affection-”

Argo and Mito snorted.

“-and then,” Leafa continued, audibly ignoring the two imps, “you hit more flags, like personal missions with her, and end up on a big mission to fight Princess Triniel at the end. Giving her the tiara or whatever would be the capstone achievement in the whole elf war questline.”

“That... actually makes a lot of sense,” Sinon muttered.

“Ah... I'm still a little lost?” Asuna spoke up, tentatively raising her hand. “What's going on?”

“Kii-chi's a dirty cheating cheater who cheats,” Argo replied airily, “and it's come back to bit him in the tuchus.”

“It means,” Sinon grunted, “that Kirito accidentally completed a quest to win Kizmel's affection – like a dating sim – he just did it in reverse, kind of.”

“Because I'm using my beta character, all of the values that AI companions use to judge how friendly they should be with the player are still embedded in my avatar,” I continued, thinking through the problem aloud. “Which means Kizmel... 'remembers' our interactions from the beta and is effectively resuming our relationship from that point.”

“I... think I get it?” Asuna asked, then shook her head, sending her auburn hair flying. “But, regardless, Kirito! You shouldn't play with a young woman's heart like that! Give her a firm answer one way or another!”

Sinon, ahead of us, stumbled. Leafa hunched over as she repressed a reaction.

Mito broke out into a coughing fit.

And Argo, the troll, flat-out fell over.

“Heh-hehe-hahahaha!” Argo spasmed on the ground as we all stopped to stare at her.

“What did I say?” Asuna asked, looking between the members of our group. None of us met her inquiring gaze.

“Nothing,” Sinon shook her head. “You didn't say anything, Asuna. Argo's just being Argo. Which means we should leave her to roll in the dirt, where rats belong.”

After another spate of ribbing and humor, we managed to get moving again, hustling to catch up with Kizmel. This time, though, Sinon ended up on my right, her hand reaching out for mine timidly. I grasped hers firmly and gave her a reassuring smile.

“I'm sorry,” she sighed, her shoulders dipping. “I... kind of bit your head off a little, back there, and it wasn't your fault.”

“Having another girl suddenly propose to your boyfriend is upsetting and I don't hold your reaction against you,” I replied with a shake of my head. “I think you were actually pretty reasonable in not attacking Kizmel or punching me in the face.”

Sinon snorted, her cheeks coloring, and an embarrassed smile crossed her face. “The thought occurred to me, but... it's not a huge deal. Kizmel... well, be honest. How much of a person is she?”

I hummed, thinking over the question as I saw the gates of the dark elf encampment crest over the next rise. Sturdy timbers set around a series of canvas tents, all of which marked the entrance to a <<Safe Zone>> for players to rest. I didn't see anyone else yet, thankfully, which meant that the rest of the early birds were probably either grinding encounters or doing the basic fetch quests for the first stage of the war.

“If you asked me about Cardinal, the question would be easy,” I replied thoughtfully. “Cardinal is fully self-actualized, more or less.”

So is Yui, too, wherever she is.

“But Kizmel?” Sinon asked, turning back to the dark elf that was leading us. “She's interactive, I see that much. But she ignores... uh, what would you call it? Out of character stuff? Things about the real world.”

I hummed in agreement. “It's not something she needs to be able to do as part of her function. That said, I didn't know she had this kind of questline available, either, so I don't know how much my take on things counts, honestly.”

Sinon grimaced, shooting me a look. “Do you want to?”

I was silent for a moment. “Not if it would cost me you.”

Sinon flushed a brilliant crimson as I heard Asuna and Mito gasp in the background.

“Aww... not going to get all touchy-feely with us, Kii-bou?” Argo teased, leaning on Leafa.

I rolled my eyes. “You and Leafa know how important you are to me. If I take Kizmel up on... her offer, then Sinon would be the odd one out. You two would have each other.”

Leafa nodded firmly as Argo clicked her tongue and sighed. “Yeah... part of me wants to go, 'chocolate elf, yes please!' And I won't say she's probably got sum neat rewards once you tie the knot, but... yer right, Kii-bou. It's Si-chi's call.”

“And whatever she decides, we'll support her,” Leafa nodded again, giving Argo a peck on the cheek and causing the rat to squeak and flip up her hood.

“Um... don't take this the wrong way...” Asuna muttered quietly. “B-but... um, all of you are really amazing!”

I blinked.

Sinon frowned.

Leafa smirked.

Argo, her hood up, emitted a... noise. A noise that probably indicated embarrassment. I snorted, “You totally forgot they were here, didn't you?”

Argo made another noise. That was apparently going around. I hope it wasn't contagious.

“D-did I say something wrong?” Asuna asked timidly. “I didn't mean to make anyone uncomfortable, but... it's just incredible, to me, how you're all... well, together and you manage to not start a fight over something like what Kizmel did. It's... inspiring?”

Sinon, Leafa, and I were blushing deeply as Asuna heaped on the praise.

I knew Argo's ears were burning, but it was a wonder she hadn't walked into a tree with how deeply she was burrowing in her cloak-ah, she'd pinched a piece of my sister's blouse and was letting Leafa lead her.

Cute.

“Weee~eeell,” Mito drawled out awkwardly. “As much fun as all of this is, it looks like we're finally here.”

Sure enough, the gates of the dark elf encampment loomed before us. They were framed by the same huge uncut timbers that made up the rest of the wall, providing an imposing barrier upon which dark elf guards patrolled vigilantly.

“And here it is! The forward base of the Lyusula Dark Elf Clan, Pagoda Knight's Brigade!” Kizmel cried, standing proudly at the threshold. “Be welcome, friends! And find rest within our walls. Though the war may be fierce, know that as long as we hold, you will have friends to call upon for aid!”

“Thanks,” I waved at her, disregarding the pomp and circumstance, which earned me a pout before I gestured to the elf ass on my shoulder. “What do you want me to do with our hostage?

Kizmel stiffened in surprise, suddenly remembering the most pressing issue even as a groan sounded over my shoulder. “Ah, right! This way, Shadowblade! We have a holding area for prisoners.”

After a quick side-trip to put the slowly-waking Triniel into a slightly more elaborate cage that apparently served as their jail cell – which I couldn't remember if it had existed in the beta or not – I returned to find the members of my party claiming a large tent for themselves near the one that served as the general store.

That was basically the way these areas worked, both the Lyusula Clan's compound and the Argenna Castle on the other side of the floor. Your party got to lay claim to a given area to set up your personal gear and sleep in a secure location, but if all of your party left at the same time, it started a timer that, when it ran down, allowed someone else to move in and claim that now-free spot.

Both the forest and dark elf safe zones were... kind of arbitrarily large in a tricky way that had the zone expanding to fit the needs of the faction and server-load.

“Ahem!” I cleared my throat, making all of the girls look up at me. “This isn't where we want to set up shop.”

“What do you mean?” Mito asked, looking around. “This is close to the camp gates, it's got access to all of the stores and NPCs we'll need... the further we pitch camp away from here, the further we'll have to walk when we want to get anything done, let alone leave for quests.”

I rolled my eyes. “Clearly someone never dug deep into the faction they joined. C'mon. Pack up and follow me.”

The girls exchanged looks, then Leafa sighed. “Whenever Kirito does something like this, he's usually got a good point. I know we've been walking all day, but let's go.”

Argo groaned, but stowed the gear she'd taken out of storage regardless. “Ugh... alright, but if it's something stupid, I'mma reserve the right ta' smack you one, Kii-bou.”

There were noises of agreement, which meant that the algorithms for determining muscle aches and soreness were at least doing their jobs, still.

They were depressingly thorough.

“Stairs?!” Mito whined tiredly as she saw where I was leading them.

“It'll be worth it,” I replied, chuckling.

Because the dark elf encampment wasn't just plopped in the middle of the most dense section of the forest, no. It was nestled up against a sheer cliff face to its back, making it all much more defensible. If one had certain skills, they could even pick out dark elf archers atop the cliff in hidden positions for recon and observation.

But that wasn't all that was up there.

The two dark elves guarding the base of the stairs took one look at me and snapped to attantion. “Shadowblade, sir!”

I manfully ignored the snickers from everyone.

“At ease,” I replied, leading my party up. We quickly went into the cliff-face, climbing up through more secure areas filled with other dark elf NPCs. Some of these were civilians, including children.

“Okay, yeah... never knew about this...” Mito murmured.

“It only opens up if you complete a few higher-level quests for this floor,” Argo replied, clicking her tongue. “I forgot that Kii-bou would have access to it. There's some much better gear and crafting ingredients here, and better gossip, too.”

“And there's a floor up further,” Sinon jerked her head upwards, towards the ceiling as we found the second staircase. “Kirito, Leafa, and I came back down here after the next floor to get some specific stuff and do a quest we forgot about. There are private rooms for trusted members of the dark elf faction up there.”

“We only stayed in them once, and by then the rooms at the hotels on the casino floor were way better,” Leafa shook her head. “It was cool, but... yeah, it'll be way better than a tent down with everyone else.”

“We're not going there, though,” I smirked as we got to the landing and waved everyone away from the series of rooms carved into the cliff. “Because what none of you know is that, if you complete the entire quest-line and gain the title of <<Elf Friend>>, then you're allowed to go all the way up to the forest at the top of the cliff and stay at one of the standalone lookout cabins up there.”

“Wait, really?” Argo asked, blinking as I opened a nondescript door to another set of stairs, one which you could see light coming out of if you looked up. “How come you never spilled about this, Kii-bou?”

I shrugged. “Becuase Leafa's right, the rooms in the casino are way nicer. This place is basically just an Easter Egg for dedicated players who want to retread some old content. If we weren't in the specific situation we're in right now, it'd be practically useless trivia.”

“I make bank on useless trivia!” Argo cried, making the rest of the group laugh at her faux-outrage. “But, fer-realz, Kii-bou, we gotta have a sit-down about stuff like this. It'll be worth big-bucks later one, and-”

Her breath caught as we crest the top of the stairs and she caught sight of the few small homes carefully blended into the treeline, the beautiful afternoon sun glaring down, and the expanse of small pools set a few hundred meters back from the homes.

“Hot Springs!?” Mito gasped.

“Wha-really?! Asuna replied, stepping out and almost pushing Mito aside to gasp in delight.

“Eeee!” Leafa squealed in excitement.

Sinon just gaped, speechless.

“I'm guessing it was worth it?” I grinned slyly.

~~~

...and, done!

This one took a bit longer than I wanted, but my icy prison finally thawed and I needed to go out and do some errands. Nothing huge, but it ate up time.

Roads are mostly clear at this point around my neck of the woods, but there's a sizeable amount of slush about and a bit of lingering black ice, as well. I hope everyone else who's still in lockdown or dealing with winter complications is managing well enough.

That said, this is probably the last chapter for the month. A nice SAO chapter to close out the capture and transport of the forest elf princess from chapter 18.

Next chapter for SAO will feature a NSFW scene, probably with Argo.

More pressingly, I'll likely have something Sunday-ish to post with the February vote tally, so look forward to that. As it is, it'll either be Mind Games or Pokemon. Normally I'd say MG is a pretty solid choice, but my brain is buzzing about pokemon right now. Don't know why.

Hope everyone enjoys the chapter and their Friday! Hello Weekend!

Paldean Knights - Chapter 6

“Here should be fine,” I waved at the expansive rear field of the palace, neatly trimmed hedges blocking the view of the stables further out. “As long as we don't tear things up too much, the landscaping crew will come by in a few days to fix things.”

“Okay, so this is your Tera Orb,” Nemona explained, handing me the dark purple sphere of crystalline material. There was a silver ring around it, only interrupted by a hexagonal protrusion of the same material. The bottom of it was ringed three times with the same silver material, in comparison to the plain purple upper hemisphere.

“I know Harrington told you to explain this, but I do know what a tera orb is,” I replied dryly.

The darker-skinned girl grinned and rested one hand on her hip as she handed over the special item. “Nope. The Director is trusting me with this important duty, so I'd be betraying his instructions if I didn't at least give you an overview.”

“Mrow?”

I rolled my eyes and reached up to my shoulder to scritch at sprigatito. “Hmm? You want to listen? Okay, I guess.”

Nemona blinked, looking between myself and the grass-cat, then shook her head. “So, you use your tera orb to terastallize your pokemon. You do this by focusing on the pokemon you want to use it on, then forcing your will through the tera orb. Usually calling out a verbal command helps to focus your intent, too. Here, let me show you.”

I nodded obediently, sprigatito on my shoulder watching on, seemingly enraptured as Nemona produced a pokeball and released...

I blinked. “You chose quaxly?”

Wasn't the rival character supposed to take the rock to your elemental scissors? I shook my head, ignoring the protest from my starter at the rapid movement.

“Yep!” Nemona chirped with a grin. “What, did you think I'd go for a type advantage? You're the newbie trainer, Prince. I've made the top eight in the yearly conference. You need the handicap more than I do. And besides-”

She reached down and picked up the duck, who squeaked in alarm, then settled with a-

-with a-

-I twitched, trying to suppress even the thought of the pun, before it bubbled up.

-with a fowl look at his trainer.

“-quaxly is cute! I've always like water types! You saw me with my tauros, right?” Nemona gushed, apparently oblivious to the irritation of her pokemon.

“Hmm... I guess,” I hummed. “I'm more partial to ghost and dark types, myself. Flying types are a close third, though.”

“Interesting,” Nemona smiled, a softer expression. “While water's my favorite, I do have a dusknoir on my tournament team.”

I whistled lowly. “Nice. Not one of the ones I'm looking at picking up, but that's a very strong ghost. Second favorite type?”

“Fighting, actually,” Nemona grinned again, setting quaxly down as he fidgeted in her grasp. “I like their spirit!”

I nodded, trying to recall the other pokemon on her team. I'd remembered the aqua tauros simply due to her good strategy, but... “Let's see... I don't think I caught the match with the dusknoir, but... you've got a milotic, right? A poliwrath, a pawmot and... infernape?”

“Good memory,” Nemona praised. “I'm trying to get my hands on a jangmo-o, but there's only one family that breeds them here in Paldea, and trying to get clearance to catch anything on the Isle of Armor is a pain, even for someone with my family's connections.”

I nodded, grimacing. The island was a private reserve for the royalty of Galar, much like the Royal Wood here in Paldea. But the keepers of the island had been a bit more careful about maintaining the unique biodiversity of exotic imported pokemon there.

As such, it usually took a huge favor granted by the high nobility of Galar – or an equally large bribe – to gain access to it. Even then, though, you were only allowed to capture specific species.

It reminded me of an even more exclusive Safari Zone.

“Oh, jeeze!” Nemona suddenly cried, palming her face. “We've gotten totally off track. As fun as talking up my current team and my dream catches are, I should really get you through learning about the tera orb before I forget.”

“If you feel you have to,” I nodded, sighing at the return to the previous topic.

“So, anyway, you just hold it out and-” Nemona gripped her orb with intent, narrowing her gaze at quaxly, who stiffened. “-Terastallize, Quaxly!”

“Quack!” The duck cried, a rainbow of energy manifesting around it as it took on the myriad hues of a stained glass window, glowing brightly with inner light. Above its head, a 'crown'-like formation of phantasmal crystal materialized with what appeared to be a splash of water in gem form at its base.

Despite myself, my breath caught.

Terastallization was Paldea's 'unique mechanic' type thing. Kalos had mega evolutions, Galar had dynamaxing, and Alola had their z-moves. Information about Sinnoh, Hoenn, Johto, and Kanto wasn't all that easy to come by, but I didn't know if this specific variation of the pokemon world I'd been born into meant they had a gimmick as well.

I did know that Unova's special power was money, though.

Regardless, though, the sheer awe of the tera process managed to seep through even my own dreary jaded cynicism. “Okay, that's cool.”

“Mroo~oow,” Sprigatito purred, tilting her head this way and that at the light show.

“Quack!” Quaxly cried, his bill jutting upward proudly.

The cat on my shoulder sniffed disdainfully and I immediately felt validated by my choice to avoid the duck. He was kind of an asshole, just as I'd suspected.

Look, ducks and I had a history, alright? And it wasn't good.

Fucking farfetch'd.

“Okay, so when you terastallize a pokemon, they change their type,” Nemona explained with a nod towards her 'mon. “Now, officially your pokemon will lose their current types and have it fully-replaced by their tera-type, which is the type they become after you activate your tera orb.”

“But, in actuality, the pokemon in question keeps their innate type or types and, as a result, moves using their original type will still be stronger or more versatile,” I nodded, picking up the explanation just to prove I could. “So a fire type pokemon with a tera-type of ground will have stronger fire type attacks and, while terastallized, stronger ground-type attacks.”

Nemona pouted slightly, but nodded. “Right. So quaxly's here is actually a water tera-type. So, given that he's water type normally, his tera-type being the same as his natural one means he'll receive an extra bonus to water-type moves and attacks.”

“Mow!” Sprigatito chirped, jumping from my shoulder onto the ground and turning to me with eager eyes.

“Ah, she wants to try?” Nemona guessed.

I snorted, but nodded, holding out my own orb. “You ready, girl?”

A green whiskered face bobbed up and down.

“Sprigatito – Terastallize!” I commanded, feeling the energy within and around me flex and focus through the orb. Immediately, my starter burst into a corona of light, taking on the same gem-like quality as quaxly had moments earlier. Only this time, the crown was reddish in color, shaped like a tower, and adorned with a large dragon spreading red wings.

“Oooh! Dragon tera-type,” Nemona commented, clapping quickly as sprigatito looked herself over. “That's a pretty rare one. Unfortunately, I don't think the sprigatito line has any dragon-type moves to benefit from the enhancement. Don't be too down, though, because as far as defensive calculations go, your pokemon's new tera-type is its only type. That means while terastallized, your sprigatito won't have to worry about its weakness to fire, for instance.”

“While that's useful, you should know that move pools are basically a fabrication,” I replied. “They're just shorthand created to allow trainers to more easily classify the types and numbers of moves that a pokemon learns instinctually. They're nothing like the hard and fast rule that most people make them out to be.”

Nemona blinked, cocking her head. “I've never heard that before, who told you that?”

I frowned at her. “It's covered in advanced energy type studies classes. I thought you were Harrington's best student?”

The girl's cheeks reddened, and she reached up to scratch the back of her head, looking off to the side. “Ahh... well, the academies are set up so that you can bypass some classes if you get badges instead. I basically spent my entire first year getting badges and so I've already clepped out of all the basic stuff, but the advanced classes are kinda' hard, so Director Harrington writes me passes to take time to train my team and compete against Naranja.”

I stared at her, my mouth slipping open to respond...

“Ah.”

...and nothing of substance came out.

She's a meathead. My rival is a meathead.

Sweet Arceus, see me through this mess.

“Anyway!” Nemona coughed, clearing her throat as she smiled widely and not at all awkwardly at me. “How do you know about that stuff? If they're advanced classes and you're, what... eight?”

“Nine next week,” I shrugged, my eyes tracking back down to sprigatito, even as quaxly's gem-like glow began to fade.

“Ah, yeah, it's running out. Each use of a tera orb tends to last about five minutes or so. If a pokemon is cycling a lot of energy – like in a battle – that can extend the time period for the change, though.” Nemona held up her orb. “How many uses you get out of your orb kind of varies. No one knows why, but some people can use their orbs more often than others. It takes a day or two for them to recharge naturally, but if you take them to a pokecenter, you can let the Nurse Joy in charge charge if up for you, if you're in a jam.”

“That's because of the tera raid cystals inside the orb,” I stated, giving mine a closer look. The sphere wasn't actually perfectly opaque and, if you held it between yourself and the sun, you could see a gem embedded within the orb. “They're from the crater – or the asteroid that struck it originally – but they're only part of the equation. The crystals react with the human holding them, using the focusing matrix of the tera orb, to project tera-type energy onto the pokemon of your choice. That's what allows the terastallization process.”

“Whoa... really?” Nemona asked, her eyes wide as she mimicked me and held her orb to the sky. “By the treasures! You're right!”

For want of anyone else to share my disbelief, I turned to sprigatito and quaxly. The former seemed slightly stunned at the route the conversation had taken, losing her gem-like glow as she looked at me with an impressed air. The latter, though, was hiding his face behind his wing.

Yeah, if she was my trainer, I'd be ashamed, too.

“What the Joys do at pokecenters is expose the crystal inside your tera orb to a larger one they keep in the rear of the centers,” I continued tiredly, rubbing at my forehead. “The larger tera crystals replenish energy a lot faster, but aren't really portable and focusing matrices for them are... unwieldy and too expensive to be viable.”

Officially, at least.

I shrugged and put my new tera orb away in its new designated pocket. “But, you're at least correct in regards to no one knowing what quality allows people to more efficiently use the tera energy stored within their orb.”

Again, officially.

Military secrets were a thing in this world, too, and terastallization was the Paldean answer to Kalosian mega-evolutions, so it was important to know as much about how and why it worked as possible in case a war ever broke out.

Not that it was especially likely for either Kalos or Galar to invade. Neither of those regions liked the idea of visiting the madhouse that was Paldea too often, let alone trying to live here. And Orre to the south, over the strait, just didn't have the manpower, resources, or infrastructure to try anything. We'd... kind of made sure of that, actually.

“Okay, so how do you know about all of this? Isn't this super-advanced stuff? I didn't skip out on all of my basic classes, you know,” Nemona stated, finally looking away from where she'd been enthralled with her tera orb.

I shrugged, waggling a hand. “Eh, pieces of it are, and it's not like it's a big secret, either. Anyone curious enough with access to a public library can find out about it, if they start digging at least. But it's mostly because I have a degree in pokemon energy studies.”

The girl blinked, jerking her head as she stared at me. “Huh?”

…

Nemona Torrez didn't know what to make of her current situation.

When Harrington had asked her to dress up nice and meet the newest spoiled princeling, she'd tried to decline until he made a vague threat towards the excuses he'd made to cover her classes and grades. Then she'd sighed and agreed. At worst, it would be a wasted afternoon of irritating pomp and niceties, but it'd at least get her parents off her back, so there was that upside, too.

Attending something that could be classified as a 'high class social gathering' usually did.

And networking with one of the royals certainly counted.

Even if he was... what, sixth or seventh in line for the throne? At least that.

But... Aznaro was... not what she expected.

“Stop!” He called out, and she froze.

“What, what's wrong?” Nemona asked, turning to look around her, but seeing nothing except the forest preserve of the royal family.

“Is there something wrong, my prince?” Lyra, his bodyguard, asked as she went into high alert, her hand at her belt. “Are there wild pokemon?”

“There are always wild pokemon,” Aznaro sighed, coming up to Nemona and pulling her backwards carefully. “Look where you were about to step.”

Nemona blinked, looking down at the ground and-oh!

“Those are smoliv sprouts, aren't they?” Nemona asked, her eyes widening.

“Yep,” the prince nodded, reaching into his pack and pulling out a spray bottle filled with – as far as she could tell – plain water. “And they do not like being stepped on, especially when they're sleeping.”

Nemona watched as he dropped to his knees, his sprigatito jumping down from his shoulders as he began spritzing the half-buried pokemon. “What are you doing?”

“Waking them up,” Aznaro replied, shifting the plain black t-shirt he'd changed into. Nemona herself was glad that she'd packed a change of clothes. And, more than that, been given a changing room after the formal stuff was over. “They tend to half-bury themselves when they’re taking in sunlight and napping. But rain makes them wake up to take in more water. It’s the best way of getting them up without irritating them. I'm planning to capture one.”

Nemona blinked. She didn't think of herself as an elitist trainer or anything, but the smoliv line, ending with arboliva, were agricultural pokemon. And they were damn good at that. Arboliva orchards produced high-quality fruits and oils that were one of Paldea's biggest large-quantity exports.

Sure, she knew of some trainers who used dolliv or arboliva in their line up, but they were usually either grass-type specialists or... well, someone desperate to fill an empty spot on their team. Whether that was just an extra body or a much-needed elemental slot varied, but few people actively sought out smoliv in specific for their conference­-

Nemona stopped her train of thought right there.

“So... you're not planning on attending the conference?” She asked, her eyes widening as the tiny grass types began waking up and dislodging themselves from the dirt.

“Smo! Oliv! Mol!” The various cries rang out, the – admittedly adorable – little bulb pokemon looking around.

“One minute,” Aznaro nodded to her. “Hey little ones. Remember me?”

Various tiny chirps erupted from the half-dozen sprouts. Aznaro chuckled as they crowded around him and he rubbed the various small pokemon on the sides of their body. “Okay, okay, I've got a few berries in my bag. Here we go...”

Nemona watched in a slight daze as he interacted with the wild pokemon, introduced his starter to them, and began chatting with them about the forest. Absently, her eyes tracked towards the bodyguard with the red hair and red eyes. As the young royal knelt on the ground, she slowly edged over to the other woman.

“Does... I mean... is this...” Nemona asked quietly, waving her arms at the boy in front of them and trying not to be insulting.

“This is normal for his highness, yes,” Lyra confirmed in an undertone. “He... has a way with pokemon. Even wild ones. Especially wild ones, in fact. It's like nothing I've ever seen before.”

Nemona simply nodded, remembering the coverage of the party the month prior. She'd thought it had been exaggerated. Just propaganda to enhance the image of one of the background royals who never really did anything. After all, who actually believed an eight year old could talk down a wild garchomp – one of the world's most temperamental and destructive dragons? But the more she'd heard a few of her classmates talk about the party, the more she'd wondered.

“Okay, so you want to come with me?” Aznaro asked, smiling at one of the slightly derpy-looking pokemon and offering a pokeball. “Here you go.”

Nemona's jaw dropped slightly as the pokemon tapped the ball and was immediately captured, and feeling something vaguely like disgust and outrage, turned to look at Lyra, gesturing towards the prince again.

The bodyguard sighed and shrugged. “I told you, he has a way with pokemon.”

“I'll say,” Nemona muttered as Aznaro stood up and dusted himself off, his sprigatito taking a perch on his shoulder again.

“Okay, so what did you want to know?” The prince asked, turning towards Nemona and Lyra.

The tanned girl blinked, then shook herself. “Right... I was going to ask if you intended to go to the conference this year?”

“Ah,” he hummed, rubbing his chin. “I guess you don't have to be ten years old, do you? Well, probably not this year. Maybe next. I might try for a badge sweep this year, though.”

“There are better pokemon for badge challenges than the smoliv line, you know?” Nemona couldn't help herself from offering. “If you're looking for another grass type to synergize with your starter, you could pick up a deerling or a foongus.”

Even if she shivered at that last suggestion.

Asnaro snorted, smirking at her. “Don't like poison types?”

Nemona winced, she must have been a bit too expressive there. “Ah... they're great and all, but... not my cup of tea.” She didn't really want to go into the incident with the seviper when she was young. It was embarrassing and reflected poorly on the household staff to let a wild pokemon get so close to their manor.

“But even something like a skiddo would probably be a better match for your team than a smoliv. They evolve into gogoat, you know? Great battlers, even a match for some of the tauros I've seen, if you train them right.”

Aznaro hummed and nodded, but patted his newest capture regardless, “I think I'll stick with smoliv, thanks. Anyway... if you want to go, now would be the time. Once we get any deeper into the forest, you'll need me to guide you out or you'll have to fight your way out on your own.”

“I've got my battlers with me, I'm not worried,” Nemona waved the prince off.

“Suit yourself,” he nodded, turning to march deeper into the wood with just his sprigatito. “Same to you, Lyra. You know I'm perfectly safe here in these woods.”

“I know, your highness,” the redhead sighed, “but if I left you alone with someone your parents haven't thoroughly vetted, I'd be brought up on charges. No offense, Lady Torrez.”

Nemona gave the woman a weak smile. “None taken? I get it. I had some caretakers I wasn't allowed to buck back when I was a kid. These days, with my team, it's a lot better, but...”

Lyra nodded. “I'm not as plugged into the battle circuit as I used to be, but your skills are very respectable for how young you are. You have a real shot at going pro and making it stick. Trying for a gym leader position?”

Nemona blushed a bit and grinned shyly at the older woman. “Th-thanks... I haven't really thought about it. I'm still in school, after all, and there's my family's title to consider, but I want to make a real shot at being regional champion, at least.”

Lyra chuckled, “Sorry, I shouldn't laugh, but that's every kid's dream, it seems like. It was mine too, but... royal bodyguard pays almost as well with a lot less stress, even if I do get fewer perks and less press coverage.”

It was Nemona's turn to giggle and open her mouth to reply when she caught a shift in the trees above them.

Then Lyra's hand was around her wrist as she made to grab a pokeball. “Don't.”

Nemona frowned, torn between staring at the woman and trying to track the red, green, and white flashes of feathers through the canopy.

“”“Haw!”””

Three simultaneous voices rang out as shapes dropped from the treeline, the impacts kicking up dust and debris from the forest floor. Nemona's breath caught in her throat as she saw the three bipedal birds take up a triangle formation signaling their readiness to attack right in front of Aznaro. Their beaks were bared, talons on their forepaws outstretched in threat displays, and their eyes the beady seriousness of a wild pokemon about to rampage.

Aznaro raised his hands and-

Clapped?

“Bravo, Bravo!” Aznaro cried, his voice infused with more pep and energy than she'd heard from him since they met a few hours ago. “Amazing! You really surprised me!”

Nemona twitched as she felt like the foundation of her world was shifting underneath her very feet. The hawlucha all instantly broke their poses, shifting to prideful and shy stances, bowing at the praise the prince heaped on them. Then he approached, complimenting their feathers and their coloration.

“-oh, and you've been eating better since last month, too! Very good!” Aznaro grinned, casually brushing the feathers of the lead bird, who puffed up his chest in response. “Now let's see... ah, is that a bruise on your arm? Let me get out a potion, okay?”

Nemona stared as the boy younger than her talked down the wild pokemon that, just a moment ago, she'd been sure were going to attack them, into sitting for an examination.

That... that wasn't supposed to happen. Wild pokemon were... wild! They didn't sit down with you for a tea party like this! They attacked! They injured people! Hundreds of people per day would be injured by encounters with aggressive wild pokemon! No one could just-just... talk them down! The smoliv had been one thing. Unevolved, mainly sedentary grass-types who were - in all honesty - pretty weak. She could see them being chatted up, maybe, if someone had good skill with them. But wasnt’ Aznaro supposed to be a budding ghost-type specialist?

This was more than just 'having a way with pokemon.' This was... incredible.

“Lucha!” One of the flying types asked, jerking their beak towards Nemona, surprising her.

“Oh, her? That's Nemona. She's a friend who wanted to see the forest. Hmm... she's like an older pack member of the big gathering place where humans send their young to play-fight with other young. Remember I told you about that?” Aznaro explained, the bird blinking at her, then nodding and squaring up to Nemona, ten feet away.

Nemona's fingers itched for a pokeball.

“Really... hmm,” Aznaro turned away from where he was examining one of the other hawlucha's legs. “You've got two options, Nemona! You can watch him do some impressive stunts to show off and then compliment how well he did them, or you can battle him. He seems to think you're strong and would make a good trainer.”

Nemona jerked in surprise, looking between the prince and the pokemon flexing at her.

Her tongue slid across her lips. “I thought this was a royal reserve.”

“You've got his highness' permission if he made the offer,” Lyra chimed in from her side, stepping away as Nemona fingered the orbs on her belt. “Hawlucha aren't all that rare anymore and with Aznaro's ascent it shouldn't be a problem. You are doing him – and the royal family by extension – a favor, after all.”

Nemona felt her grin stretch and selected her battler. “Go, pawmot! Let's show this bird who's boss, buddy!”

As one of her best battlers materialized, striking his fists together in eagerness, Nemona reflected that she hadn't thought she'd get one new pokemon today, let alone two. But... if the world was going to go crazy around this prince, then at the very least she'd take refuge in what made sense. Maybe she'd even get a battle out of the prince after they got finished with this little adventure!

~~~

Still trapped inside.

Wrote more pokemon.

Might have another chapter of something up tomorrow.

Have fun, enjoy, and thank you for your support!

The Hand We're Dealt - Chapter 14

“What happened last night... it doesn't bother you?” I asked Hector as we ate bread and jam outside, the morning air crisp and damp.

My friend snorted and shook his head, casting a short glance around us to ensure no watchers as he bit into his loaf. “Not the slavers, if that's what you mean. Disgusting practice, and people who'd drag a little girl back to a monster... no, that doesn't bother me. I've had a run-in or two with bandits or thugs while traveling. It... surprises me a bit that you'd... escalate like that, I guess. But...”

I remained silent, enjoying the thin apple cider as he worked through his thoughts.

“I guess I'm kind of glad I wasn't born into magic,” Hector finally stated, looking away with a slightly ashamed tone to his words. “It... you've told me stories, Henry, but your world is kind of...”

He made a vague motion with his hands.

“The words you're looking for are, 'fucked up,'” I replied, the coarseness of my language making him seize with a snort, ducking his head as he flushed.

Part of me still came from a more casual time, after all, and my tongue occasionally cut a bit too deep for my own good.

“Yes, that,” Hector nodded, now smiling. So I'd at least cut the tension. “I know why you did it and, in my head, I get that they were under one of those magic contract things-”

A subject which Hector understood well enough, having insisted on signing a binding one between him and myself for our business venture. The man was a good friend, a trusting one, but he was also correct in that he just wasn't cut out for living in the moonlit world.

“-but snapping to violence like that, just straight up killing them with no chance to back down? Rubs me the wrong way. And that business with...”

I held up a hand and nodded. “I understand, but... there was no better way to handle the matter. And given van Beek's stance on the matter, he'd burn down half the town rather than live with the knowledge of one of them breathing the same air as him.”

Hector grimaced. “I figured you had something of a reason for the whole thing. I guess I don't have to wonder why he'd go to such lengths.”

“Most of that type,” I replied carefully, attempting to avoid using the word 'ghoul' in public for however little it mattered at the moment. It was still good practice to keep words like that out of your day to day vocabulary when dealing with the average person. “Most of them aren't as well-behaved as the one we met. They tend to... ah, prepare their own meals, if you understand my gist.”

Hector blinked, then grimaced, openly disgusted as he dropped what remained of his loaf onto the napkin he was using as a plate. “Absolutely vile.”

I simply hummed in response, not directly condemning the ghouls. As much of an atrocity as murder and cannibalism might be to a human, ghouls weren't human. Ghouls had to eat, and they were obligate humanitarians.

“Anyway... I think we need to talk about something else. The girl, Emerald,” Hector offered as a change of topic.

“As you probably gathered, her father's some big-shot voodoo lord down south, a school of magic which heavily relies on sympathetic effects,” I rolled my eyes at his confused and inquisitive look. “One of the fundamental laws of magic is that 'like affects like.' If you have a piece of someone – a lock of hair – you can use that to affect them magically, for good or ill.”

“Wouldn't think you could use that type of thing for good,” Hector hummed, resuming his eating as he took a drink from his own cider. “So, what's going to happen to her?”

“The Professor is providing refuge, but he's said that I have to deal with it personally,” I replied with a sigh. Partially relief, partially aggravation. “Given the fact that he's going to die in a few years-”

Hector opened his mouth.

“-which, no, he still won't tell me about,” I preempted, and he made a motion of surrender, “he wants to use it as a test of how I interact with other practitioners. If I manage to get what I want out of it – Emerald's nominal freedom – then I'll be given a bit more freedom myself, room to grow and develop my skills.”

“And if you screw it up?” He asked, leaning back on the bench.

“Emerald gets sent home with her father and I get put through remedial training and probably have a very bad time of it,” I stated grimly.

“That's about what I'd expect from Old Dutch,” Hector nodded, popping the last of his bread into his mouth.

The silence hung between us for a long moment, neither heavy nor uncomfortable.

In the distance, the sun was fully cresting over the trees now, a new day dawning.

“I'll be heading back to New York today,” Hector finally stated, sighing. “I'm going to miss this place. Especially the clean air. The city just stinks of all manner of filth.”

“Remember to boil your water,” I warned him.

“I know, I know... your little germ theory idea,” Hector waved me off. “I've been working on those projects you told me about, getting this cripple to take notation of every little bit of it. And I've got that instrument you wanted ordered. They broke the first attempt or I'd have brought it with me.”

“A binocular microscope,” I stated. “It’ll have much higher magnification than what’s currently available. And it will help prove germ theory along with the work you’ve got those people in New York doing. Proving the contagion is the key.”

“Which will let you kill miasma theory,” Hector finished with me, “I know, I know.”

“A microscope,” I stated. “Like a telescope to look at the-”

“-small things,” Hector finished with me, “I know, I know.”

“It's going to change the world more than the steel we're already making,” I promised him fervently.

“Probably not our bank accounts, though.” Hector paused. “Or, at least mine. Your mattress must be getting pretty stuffed with all the gold you've shoved under it.”

I snorted. “Yeah, you'll still be saying that when the next banking crisis hits.”

There'd been one just before I was born, in this timeline. It was a testament to how intertwined the American and British systems were, still, a decade after the former's independence, that a crisis in England had spread to the United States right before the turn of the nineteenth century. Thankfully, I'd grown up in the first decade of the eighteen-hundreds, a time which was... fairly consistent with economic growth.

“You are such a pessimist, you know?” Hector asked. “Things are looking up. The war's coming to a close in Cuba, we've already gotten Florida, and trade with Canada's up. What's to be worried about?”

“Indian attacks in the Great Lakes region,” I replied pointedly. Even if the War of 1812 hadn't happened due to my actions, there was still a series of brushfire conflicts between settlers and natives in the region that couldn't be prevented.

And, yes, I did mean couldn't.

There was nothing I could do to stop it, which burned, but was also something I was used to.

The United States had, after all, already fought a war to expand beyond the Appalachian mountains. That being one of the many causes of the Revolutionary War. The War of 1812 was just a natural extension of that fact. The current war with Spain over Florida and Cuba would ease tensions in the region as settlers moved south of Georgia and began moving into Cuba as well, but...

“What's that got to do with anything?” Hector asked, a bit petulantly.

I sighed and didn't roll my eyes, no matter how much I wanted to. “The land they settle may be – effectively – free, as long as they can defend it, but the tools they use to make their houses aren't. Nor is farming equipment. Nor is seed. Or a loan to get through a bad harvest.”

“Okaa~aay,” Hector nodded slowly, still not getting it.

“The national bank,” I explained, referring to what would be known as the Second Bank of the United States, historically, “is funding all of that through mortgaged properties and providing currency without gold backing it. This makes the current financial boom very, very fragile. If something shocks the system, there will be runs on the banks and the banks don't have enough gold to exchange for the currency they've printed.”

“But you're still just speculating,” Hector waved me off, shaking his head. “You're looking for a problem. There's nothing to say that something will shock the system.”

“Even if something doesn't, that still means that the banks are just going to continue to overextend themselves through unbacked currency,” I replied, bringing an open hand down on my knee in a cutting motion to emphasize the point. “And that's putting aside the point that, when Europe stops setting itself ablaze for five minutes, people are going to go back into the fields and start farming again. When that happens, crop prices are going to take a big hit – maybe even crash – and that-”

“-that will mean farmers can't pay their mortgages, which will make banks foreclose on the properties, people will see the headlines and start to panic, trying to withdraw their money,” Hector groaned, palming his face. “Jesus, Henry... you know how to spoil a man's entire day, don't you?”

“You forgot the part where the native attacks on farmland are going to compound everything,” I interjected ruthlessly. “Burning harvests means there's nothing to sell, burning the farm itself means there's nothing for the bank to sell even if it forecloses and seizes the property, and that's not even going into all the dead people.”

Hector made a disgusted noise. “The savages should just let us have the land. They're not using it anyway.”

I grunted, my feelings complex on the matter.

On the one hand, what the United States was doing was unquestionably a genocide. It might not be explicit, it might not be intentional, and it might not even be the desired outcome for most people to see the natives culled, but... it's what was happening. A natural result of the settlers' desire for farmland and the nation's desire to expand territory to provide for tax-paying citizens.

Indians, as one might imagine, didn't pay taxes or vote.

So their opinions weren't considered all that valid.

On the other hand, there was a lot of bad blood by this point. On both sides. Both the white man and the red man had unilaterally broken treaties, killed women and children, burned settlements to the ground, and seized land that the other side held as theirs. No one wanted to listen to a reasoned argument when they had friends or family who'd been murdered in their sleep by the opposing force.

Again, not something I could change, even if I wanted to.

The various tribes of the continent routinely went to war with each other and several were mortal enemies. Any treaty signed by one could and would be ignored by another. And 'treaties' didn't mean the same thing in their cultures as it did to European sensibilities. A treaty, by native standards, was an agreement that was good until it was broken.

And it could be broken, at any time and any place.

That breaking, then, would essentially serve as a notification that hostilities were back on. So if a group of young Miami or Shawnee braves decided it was time to blood themselves, come back with scalps, brides, and slaves... they'd break a treaty and their chief would back them up on it.

No declaration of war, no exchange of diplomats, no arbitration of terms to the prior treaty to keep the peace.

Many people, in fact, argued that the way settlers and militia conducted warfare against indians was an adaptation to the ways indians conducted warfare amongst each other. I wasn't entirely onboard with that idea. Angry mobs of people deciding to do violence onto outsiders were a grand tradition among Europeans and they could just as easily provoke a conflict as indelible cultural differences.

Regardless, though, the native peoples' lack of an overarching government, lack of official recognition of treaties, absence of a legal code for land ownership, and generally unsettled lifestyles meant that blood was going to be shed until someone came out the winner.

And that was just how it was going to be.

“-you want to do?” Hector asked, and I blinked.

“Sorry, I was lost in thought,” I replied with a shake of my head. “What was that?”

“I was asking what you wanted to do about the financial crisis?” Hector asked, slightly exasperated.

I grimaced, feeling dirty at the thought of profiteering something like this, but... “Start setting aside funds. Not in the banks, obviously. Hard currency. Real gold, or even better, silver. Napoleon's bleeding out in Spain, but he's still got fight in him. We've got time. Maybe a year or two. But the first harvest after whatever peace they sign is going to be a rough one.”

Hector pulled out a pad and started making shorthand notes, his own unique variety. “Alright, I can start reducing deposits and have a vault put in once I get back. A bigger one, at least.”

I nodded absently, most companies had some kind of safe room to keep liquid cash, important documents, or other things of a sensitive nature. But what I was talking about would need a substantially larger kind of secure storage. “When the harvest hits, we'll send people out to start buying up paper currency issued by the banks at... say, seventy-five percent of their face value.”

“That's pretty generous,” Hector noted, but didn't disagree.

“You remember what I told you about your mess with your family last night?” I asked, making him grimace. “It's the same type of thing. We have money. We have a successful business. We don't need to squeeze them for all they're worth. These are the people growing the food the country eats and fighting off attacks on the frontier. It's enough to buy useless paper at a profit, bandage the wound, and let them keep their dignity.”

I paused, then snorted. “Besides, if we did it at full face value, they'd be suspicious of what we were trying to pull.”

Hector chuckled. “Okay, so I've got a plan to turn gold into wastebasket liner and paper for our bums. What then?”

“We take all of the notes issued by the National Bank that just got passed last year, the one Nicholas Biddle got put in charge of. We're buying up those notes specifically,” I pointed at him sternly.

“What about people coming up to exchange notes from state banks?” He asked in reply. “Once word gets out we're doing this, you know they'll show up, too. If things get as bad as you're saying they're going to.”

I frowned, stretching my memory to try and pick out what had happened with state banks back during the Panic of 1819. “Buy those at... sixty percent. Higher risk.”

Hector hummed, nodding. “And then?”

“Then we have a team of lawyers show up at the headquarters of the bank in Philadelphia with all of our worthless paper in tow,” I smiled at him.

Hector whistled lowly. “You really don't pull punches, Henry. What if they refuse to cash us out?”

“That's what the lawyers are for,” I replied bluntly. “If they refuse, we take them to court. Same as the state banks. It's one thing to shut the doors on a barely-literate farmer from the back-country. It's another entirely to do the same thing to one of the biggest and most well-connected companies in the country.”

Hector chuckled while shaking his head as he looked down at his pad. “Let's see... how to I write that? 'Piss off everyone in government'? That sound about right?”

“They'll be angry, yes, but they won't be able to do anything with the public on our side,” I informed him, making him blink. “We'll have just stabilized a bank panic, after all. We helped farmers keep their land, gentlemen keep their businesses; we'll be heroes of the common man. That we bought the bills at the rate we did? Well, that's just taking the risk on us. After all, the government might welch on the deal! Like they're trying to right now!”

“Words cannot describe how thankful I am we're friends, Henry,” Hector stated, laughing as he made more notes. “Okay... and what if the bank can't pay?”

“We settle for payment on a plan, with interest, of course,” I replied with a smirk. “In fact, that'd be preferential. Stable line of income for the next... however many years it takes them to pay us off.”

“Alright... that should do it,” Hector nodded, then made to put away his pad, before I put the tips of my fingers on it and widened my smirk.

“Oh, Hector... I'm just getting started,” the older boy's throat worked as he took a deep breath. “If we're doing this... we're doing this whole-hog, my friend. Let me tell you about a little idea I had called the Federal Deposit Insurance Commission.”

Hector put his pad back down and resumed furiously taking notes.

I'd already changed things beyond recognition. If I wasn't going to hide away from the possibility of shifting the timeline, then I was going to embrace it. And one thing I could head off at the pass were the dozens of goddamn bank panics the United States had suffered through during the nineteenth century.

…

I sighed as I dropped into my chair, the air cushion beneath my ass and along the back of the chair taking my weight much more comfortably than the hard wooden surfaces they insulated.

Beside me, sitting on a stool and watching me anxiously while she was trying to pretend not to, was Emerald. Normally, I used that stool to put my feet up on after a long day, but due to the lack of seating beyond my own chair, I'd had to improvise.

“I need to get another chair,” I noted, a task nowhere near as simply as it would be in the twenty-first century. If the general store didn't have anything I could get the local furniture-crafter to repurpose, I'd need to have something commissioned.

“Please don't bother yourself,” Emerald replied, her voice barely audible. “You've already done so much. Put yourself at risk.”

I grunted, promptly disregarding her request. “We need to talk about your father.”

Emerald winced, her red-eyed gaze having none of the desperation or fight in them of last night. “Must we?”

I nodded. “They called your father the 'Voodoo Man,' last night. He sounds like a fearsome man.”

Emerald nodded in agreement. “He... does horrible things to people, at the behest of others. For gold or favors. All of New Orleans is under his thumb.”

I nodded slowly, removing some paper from a pile. Thankfully, ever since Hector had gotten started making money I didn't have to bug van Beek for his supply. Instead, I could buy my own from the general store or the university's surplus. “Alright, you want to be free of him, yes?”

Emerald nodded vigorously, her fingers intertwining and clenching.

“If you want that to happen, I'm going to need you to answer all of the questions I ask you as truthfully and completely as possible. If your father is capable enough to have his men follow you here, I have no doubt he'll show up eventually-” Her eyes widened, the beginnings of panic flaring.

“-but I put that trinket of his on an outgoing mail cart wagon this morning, so it should take him some time before he manages to realize where you are and why his men aren't reporting back,” I assured her, the full explanation doing quite a bit to calm her down.

Honestly, I didn't know how effective all of that would be. I'd taken a lock of her hair while she slept, utterly exhausted, and had confined her to the house for as long as possible. I hoped that the house's wards would mean that whatever spells he was using to follow Emerald, the spell fixating on the hair instead as the easier target.

It was my hope that the continued motion of his beacon and Emerald would give the illusion of an ongoing chase northward, into Canada.

“His name is... Jacob Facultier,” Emerald began, her voice tired yet resolved.

I made my first notes. “Good, now... describe his spellcasting school.”

Red eyes blinked at me in confusion, and I sighed. “Teach me the basics of voodoo.”

She jerked, looking sickened. “I won't. I won't use his art. That's why I ran away. Never again.”

She trembled at the confession and I wanted to reach out to comfort her, but... I didn't know how she'd react. “If I'm going to help you, I need to know everything I can about him. How he casts his spells, the theory he uses, the powers and loa that he invokes, the texts and books he's fond of referencing-”

Especially that last part.

“-but if it helps set your mind at ease, I'm not going to be casting voodoo spells myself. I just need to understand what I'm up against, how to protect against it, and what I should expect should it come to blows with your father,” I explained at length.

Emerald stared at me for a long moment, her eyes piercing my own, searching for a lie.

She wouldn't find it. Voodoo had some neat theory that I'd flipped through, but I was much more partial to classical African shamanism than the blended school of magic that had manifested in the new world. And even then, shamanism wasn't a top five in my go-to spellcasting methods.

“A-alright,” Emerald nodded, eventually. “Here's how he taught me...”

I listened and took copious notes as Emerald walked me through her father's methodology. The man was a voodoo bigshot, alright, and partial to invoking Baron Samedi, the voodoo loa who governed death, the dead, and resurrection.

The loa weren't a pantheon, at least not by the traditional definition, but they were powerful spirits who held sway over the fates of mortals. A blend of deity and ancestor spirit, they were often invoked or bargained with to secure luck, fortune, favor, and success. Or to drain the aforementioned virtues from another and make them fail.

Although voodoo and its more malicious counterpart houdoo didn't use traditional curses, their effects could be the same in practice. It was less 'a curse of misfortune' and more of a 'rearranging of fortune itself,' in other words.

Emerald also told me that texts for the pseudo-religion were exceptionally rare. Although it had long been intertwined with traditional Catholicism, much like belief in the Faerie Folk of Ireland with people of that isle, formal Catholic dogma and the church itself condemned the practice of it. Which meant that, as was often the case, any codex or book found discussing the subject was burned.

Which meant the majority of the teachings were passed on by folk tradition instead of written word.

Given that it was a system of superstitions created by slaves in the African diaspora, both the lack of literature and the focus on oral tradition weren't all that surprising to me.

Later, I left Emerald to cleaning. Normally, I'd have just allowed her to rest, but she wanted to earn her keep. No doubt feeling that, if she proved her usefulness in some small way, we were less likely to simply hand her over.

With that done, I sought out my master.

Professor van Beek was in the laboratory basement, as he usually was, my own plagiarized spell for orbs of light surrounding him and providing neat, clean, and constant illumination. He'd appropriated it a few months prior and rarely bothered with a candle since.

I'd honestly love to give the old man a bit of shit over it, but I knew he'd thrash me for the disrespect.

“So, how is your latest fool's errand, Boy?” The Professor asked without looking up.

“I think I have an angle to work to get her free, but I'll need some time to prepare. Possibly a week, maybe two, depending on how my experiments go,” I replied.

He snorted. “And what then? Use her to warm your bed? You are getting to that age.”

I grimaced, then decided on a non-answer. “It's a waste of time to formulate plans until I know that there will be a future for her with me. I'll cross that bridge once the current trouble abates.”

“Hmm... very well, but keep her out of my way in the meantime. She can take up some of your baser duties while things come to a head. Now, enough time wasted on useless matters. You had something else you wanted to speak with me over,” van Beek ordered, sliding his gaze from his book up to me.

“You're due to die in six years, Master,” I observed.

The old man refused to flinch. “Still wasting my time, boy. Don't think you're too old for me to teach you a lesson.”

“From what you've told me, a traditional sorcerer's apprenticeship lasts twenty years,” I continued, as if he hadn't threatened me. “Since I'm to move at an accelerated pace if I want to be awarded my mastery before you pass on, I'd like to propose my mastery project in rough draft.”

Old Dutch, as Hector was so fond of calling him, straightened at that, rising from his bench and looking me over properly. His gaze was inscrutable. “You think you're ready for that, boy? Four years of study and showing your hubris?”

I shook my head. “No, Master. I'm not ready for my mastery, yet. But the project I have in mind will take years to finish. Possibly half a decade. If I'm able to accomplish it-”

“-then, and only then, would I recognize you,” van Beek nodded slowly, his right hand reaching up to pull lightly at his neatly-trimmed beard. “Not the worst idea you've had, I suppose.”

Which was high praise, coming from this bitter old bastard.

It was also an implicit argument for Emerald's presence. As much of an asshole as the old man might be, he wouldn't settle for anything less than excellence from his student. He might dislike the idea of getting involved in another practitioner's dealings on general principle, but if Emerald was to take over my basic cooking and cleaning in the long-term, it would mean I'd have more time to devote to developing the art.

Which, in turn, meant I'd make faster progress towards a mastery.

That was of paramount importance, if he was to leave behind a properly-trained pupil who could represent his legacy.

Even if I have no idea what that legacy really represents, in and of itself.

It was a recurring problem for me, one that I was perpetually-tempted to use my sacred gear to resolve, once and for all. The man had private papers, after all. Likely, he'd kept a journal or diary at some point, even if it was only to catalog research. Or I could look up the organization he'd been apart of. Even if he'd lived a life without any documentation at all, someone in the guild he'd been a part of would have written something down.

But, I was eternally busy.

Or so I told myself.

Really, I was worried what I'd find. And of the consequences should Marteen van Beek ever find out I'd snooped where I shouldn't. He'd never explicitly forbidden me not to, but he'd made it very well understood that an apprentice did not question the master, for any reason. Which included looking into his past.

My thoughts filling my head, I was nevertheless quiet as he obviously considered my offer further.

“Do you have an initial rendering of your project?” The Professor finally asked, reaching out and snapping his fingers as if expecting to be presented with the document promptly.

Thankfully, I'd come prepared. Underneath my arm was a slim stack of papers, which I handed over at his request.

He opened the folder.

And released a grunt.

Another page.

A noise of consideration.

I tried not to shift anxiously in place.

“A spell that can cast itself,” he murmured, weathered fingers sliding over the page. “To what end?”

I took a breath and began to explain. “The practicality is that a sorcerer's spells take time, resources, and effort to cast. They are, by necessity, more comprehensive formulations of magic than a magician's applied metaphysical mathematics. My project is an attempt to create a series of spells, of sorceries, that are effectively pre-cast, but held in stasis until they are required. At that point, they can be activated with a minimal exertion of magic, and resolve their effect.”

A magician could cast whatever spell they knew, whenever they wanted to, presuming they had the fuel to power it.

A sorcerer needed a fully-equipped laboratory or ritual site, reagents, and an amount of time varying between minutes and hours.

The trade-off was efficiency, precision, and a limited area of effect.

So if one front-loaded all of the preparation and simply pulled out a spell-in-a-box that had been stored after casting...

“How do you intend to prevent degradation of the matrix?” The Professor asked, frowning as he looked through my notes again. “You aren't the first to have thought of this, Apprentice. In the old days, we referred to it as the Agrippan School, the last sorcerer to have made a substantial advancement to it.”

“What did he do?” I asked, frowning. The name rang a bell for some reason.

“He was – supposedly – capable of storing spells within ceramics, to be shattered upon the casting of the spell inside. However, they were only good for a week before the spell destabilized and shattered the object containing it, releasing the magic; often to disastrous effect,” van Beek explained absently, his eyes still locked on my research proposal. “Little of his work survives, though. Damn traitor.”

I opened my mouth to ask about the insult, but thought better of it.

“The solution I'm toying with is containing the spell matrix within a living entity,” I stated, earning a sharp look that made me hurry to elaborate. “A spiritual entity, not a physical one. I'd hoped to use a contracted spirit to 'store' or hold the spell until such time as it needed to be cast.”

Van Beek hummed, then nodded, handing me back the documents. “I want you to elaborate on your design. It's a novel idea, at least, even if the Agrippan School never amounted to much in practice. Still, I suppose it is a good enough idea to earn you a mastery – if you succeed.”

I hid my relief and nodded. “I'll get to it, then, sir.”

A grunt was my only response as the professor waved me off, returning to his own reading.

~~~

Here's the next chapter of my 1800's Highschool DxD story!

...which still strikes me as an odd thing to write about, fourteen chapters in.

Anyway! I'm weathering the storm alright. We have power, our internet is down, but I'm tethering through my phone to post this. Streets are very closed under an inch of snow and schools/government offices are likely to be shut down through Tuesday.

Fun times.

I will... probably get to work on something else. Not sure what. Can't go anywhere, so I might get started on that SAO chapter I wanted to do this month. Or more pokemon. Dunno. We'll see what cabin fever brings out.

Butler Boy - Chapter 17

“-and thiiiiii~iiis is the gym,” AJ explained, leading me into a large room that was populated by various pieces of exercise equipment. Not just that, of course. Having a normal workout room would be beneath Bruce Wayne. This was a massive enclosed space full of all sorts of specialty stuff, like a three-story climbing wall, high-wire balancing ropes strung the length of the area, and a collection of archaic weaponry racked on one side of an open mat-covered section.

I let loose a low whistle. “Neat.”

“Yeah, haven't spent much time in here... honestly don't think Bruce uses much of it,” AJ shrugged, and I pretended to believe her.

“I'd prefer a pool, honestly,” I replied, though a few of the polearms made my hands itch to grab at them.

“Pool?” My guide frowned. “We've got one of those in the rec room, but what's that got to do with... oh, you mean a lido, don't ya?”

“I mean a large body of water kept for the purposes of exercise and amusement,” I replied. “I take it you meant billiards?”

She snapped her fingers, “Right! Yeah, still getting used to things. I pick it up fast, but... Bruce has a lido, too. A swimming pool, that's what you yanks call it. It's over on the other side of the house, though, near the back. Wanna see?”

“Wouldn't mind,” I nodded. “I don't get much swim time except for the summer. No indoor pool around town except for this expensive private club. So I only swim June through September, if I'm lucky.”

“Whaddya do the rest of the year?” AJ asked, then shook her head. “For fun, I mean?”

“Skiing's a personal favorite,” I replied honestly. “We've got good slopes around Thomasville and we usually get snow from October through March... or close enough. It varies, but you can usually ski for most of that time.”

“Huh, didn't take you for the type, I guess,” AJ commented, looking me up and down. “Seem more like a nerd... no offense.”

“I'm mostly a nerd, so no offense taken,” I replied honestly, giving her the same once-over. She was about an inch shorter than me with dark hair. Her eyes were sharp and just as dark. A sky blue blouse with a darker blue skirt and black belt to compliment her hair and shoes. Overall, it was a basic – if neat and clean – outfit, though I couldn't tell if the articles were brand name or simple rack-wear. “You should see if Bruce will fly you out, I could teach you to ski. I mean, assuming...”

“Got me,” AJ grinned, “Never been before. It was always kind of a posh thing to do, not for a street kid.”

I hummed, trying my best to dismiss the awkwardness of that casual comment. “You like it here? It's gotta be a hell of a shock.”

She made a low, considering noise in the back of her throat as she threw her hands back and intertwined her fingers behind her neck, her elbows pointing towards the ceiling. “Big change, yeah... even when I was hanging with Dodge... we were always on the cheap. Motels, if we weren't squatting in some vacation home. Nosh was always from a drive-through or a can.”

She paused and twirled in the corridor we were walking through, her fingers not quite touching the ornate vase, family portraits, or ancient gas fixtures.

But they came close. So close I couldn't quite brush it off as an accident and, instead, looked to be natural grace.

“Now I sleep in this huge four-poster with princess curtains on it, I get me' outfits picked out each day from jumpers to knickers, and have three square meals – with snacks – whenever I want.” She took a deep breath. “New clothes, new books, trips to a circus, an aquarium... and overprice crap from gift shops! And I don't have to pay for any of it!”

“You got everything you wished for and it's like there's this itch at the back of your mind that won't let you enjoy it,” I nodded, stopping at a window to look into the dark abyss of the forest.

But I heard her feet slide to a stop on the long rug in the middle of the hardwood floor.

“Bugger me!” She spat – not literally – and sighed as I turned to see her slap her forehead in exasperation. “That's fookin' it.”

I snorted and chuckled. “Yeah, I get that.”

It was a sentiment I could understand on multiple levels. A new life, a chance to 'do it right,' live your childhood all over again, free of the tedium of adult concerns. Not just that, but living in a world of heroes, a world of gods and monsters like a dream come true. Even, recently, the realization of another dream, superpowers to call my own.

And yet...

“It's like... how do I deal with all that?” AJ asked, her shoulders drooping helplessly.

“I'll let you know if I figure it out,” I replied with an equal sigh. “Best I've been doing is taking it one day at a time.”

It was AJ's turn to snicker as we resumed walking down the seemingly endless corridors of Wayne Manor. “Pfft... yeah. Never made long-term plans, why start now? I guess... you do get it, dontcha? What it's like to have your life fucked up and suddenly nothing's the same anymore?”

I nodded. “Not exactly like yours. I didn't get to be saved by a superhero or anything, just a pair of idiots who picked the wrong hole to throw me in. But... suddenly everyone's got my life under a microscope and... everyone wants something from me, you know?”

I held up a hand, my fingers fanned out, and started knocking them down point by point. “Advice about money, the press wants interviews, talk about what it felt like when I thought I was going to die, are you really a genius... It just goes on and on.”

“I saw some of that... read that interview with that reporter, too. The only one that said they'd actually talked to you. That Sullivan-girl,” AJ explained.

I snorted. “I saw the one where you cursed out that reporter,” I gave her a smirk.

The girl colored and looked away. “Plonker cunt deserved it askin' if what Bruce n' my relationship was.”

“She was a bitch,” I nodded. The question hadn't exactly been that, but it'd been close enough. One of those very specifically-worded pieces of bullshit that made an accusation without actually claiming anything. In this case, it had been something concerning 'sleeping arrangements' with a 'notorious playboy.'

The implication was clear and, after AJ had flipped her shit, Bruce had told the woman she'd have a copy of the restraining order he'd be filing by the end of day. Ostensibly on the basis that she'd aggravated a traumatized child's state both intentionally and with obscene remarks.

Not something a normal person could get to stick, but... well, once I got close to his income bracket, I was going to ask Bruce for the contacts of his legal team. Assuming it wasn't all done in-house, of course.

“People suck,” I finally said into the silence.

“Struth,” AJ gave a nod. “Though Bruce said you don't.”

I felt myself smile. “That's high praise.”

Especially from him.

“Yeah, he said you told him about this circus kid who's parents were gonna' get cement shoes from a mobster or somethin' like that,” AJ stated, her eyes childishly wide as she stared at me, large and soulful – yet piercing all the same. “What's up with that, anyway? How'd you know?”

I snorted, not bothering to hide my smirk as we walked into an enormous room that smelt of chlorine and moisture.

You sent her to get answers, didn't you Bats? Eh... 6/10. It's her first try, so I'll go easy.

“Huh?” AJ asked, blinking at the noise I'd made.

“Nothing, just... this is a big pool,” I replied, taking a deep breath within the large, indoor space. It was warm and damp, several smaller pools situated to one side, with slatted doors that were labeled for changing, sauna, cold soak, and even a massage room.

AJ grinned, then nodded. “Yup... wanna take a dip?”

I eyed her with a raised brow. “I have a girlfriend, just so you know.”

AJ blinked, then sputtered as her face went red. “A-ah-meant I'd loan you a suit! Not going starkers!”

I chuckled, relieved. Most of me had thought she was either joking or had something like that in store, but... I didn't know her. And this was Gotham. Moreover, she was one of Bruce's broken birds, and they all had a few dozen issues apiece.

“Sorry, sorry,” I waved her off as she flipped me the bird. “I thought you'd gone weird with all the money and everything. I think a lot of Burce, but he does have a reputation, you know?”

“Pst,” AJ rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, looking away irritably.

“Still wanna go for a dip?” I asked as a peace offering.

“Not anymore, wanker,” AJ replied, giving me the evil eye.

“I'll tell you how I knew about the Graysons,” I offered.

She stilled and, after a moment-too-long of consideration, she asked, “Who?”

I rolled my eyes. “The circus people I told Bruce about. You wanna know or not?”

“You actually going to tell me? No kiddin?” She pressed, frowning.

“Scout's honor,” I smirked and, as her mouth opened. “Yes, I'm a real boy scout, I'm not kidding.”

AJ blinked, then snorted, and nodded. “Alright, fine. I'll show you where the spare suits are. You can keep whichever one you pick. Bruce has a couple of dozen in storage, I think.”

You think, sure. You've been here, what... two weeks? And you already know where the pool stuff is stored off-season? It's almost like someone made a priority of telling you all of this.

Idly, I wondered what hook she would have given if I'd been more interested in the exercise room. Would she have offered rock climbing? Or to show me some tricks on the balance beam?

Some people would call what I was feeling paranoia.

And, yeah, they'd be right. But paranoid doesn't mean wrong.

Especially when one was dealing with Batman.

In short order, I'd picked out a set of swim trunks and was showing the changing room while AJ went to grab one of her own. She sent me a parting shot as she closed the door, even, “And no peeking, perv!”

I yelled back through it, “You're the one who thought I meant naked!”

A frustrated cry was my only answer.

As I took off my pants, though, I blinked as I saw I'd accrued another set of tickets. A bronze for visiting Gotham... and a silver for Wayne Manor in particular. Which... huh, I guess visiting iconic places could get you a ticket. Neat. I'd have to make time to at least pass through Metropolis and a few other places for easy scores.

Still...

[Visit Gotham... For Some Reason]

“Yeah, you and me both, buddy,” I muttered, shaking my head and stuffing both of them back into my pocket. Along with the others. Deep down. I didn't need the temptation right now.

A few minutes later, though, I was setting my things on one of the fancy beach chairs that were placed around the area. Real wood and metal, not plastic. Complete with thin cushions meant to dry easily. All of it with brand-name labels I was unfamiliar with.

“You gonna' jump in or-” AJ started as I heard the door swing open.

Then she stopped, staring at me. Her jaw hung slightly. Her eyes subtly widened. Her face flushed bright red. The skill which would go forever unnamed informed me – with utter certainty – exactly what her response indicated. She was wearing a brown one-piece swimsuit with white highlights that didn't quite cover enough of her upper chest to hide how the blush dove a little low.

“Was planning on it, yeah,” I nodded, pointedly ignoring her realization that I had a burgeoning four-pack of abs, decent pecs, and surprisingly thick arms.

As long as I picked the right clothes, no one really noticed my developing musculature. Once it his summer, I'd stop needing to hide as much simply due to not having to attend PE.

“O-oh,” she muttered, shaking herself as I shrugged and jumped in. The pool was definitely heated, but still cool enough to feel refreshing. I kicked off the edge of it and began moving through the water, sighing as I surfaced and thankful again that I kept my hair short.

I felt the water shift and knew that AJ had jumped in.

“Okay, I needed this,” I sighed as I slowly swam across the length of the pool. “This is nice.”

“So spill,” AJ called out, sending a half-hearted splash my way. “How'd you know?”

I hummed, taking my time to answer. “Some writer once said something to the effect that... what was it? 'What if' were the two most terrible words in the English language. Or something like that. I can't remember.”

“What's that got to do with the price of tea in China?” AJ asked, paddling awkwardly on the shallower side of the pool.

Silently, I added another strike to my little theory.

“Alternate history is my favorite genre, you know?” I asked, as if she hadn't spoken. “It's basically people writing what they think would have happened if history went differently. Like... what if China hadn't started a war with the Soviet Union back in '69?”

AJ was quiet for a moment, thinking that puzzle over. “So... what would have happened?”

“Batman would still be fighting crime in Gotham, for one,” I replied candidly, smirking slyly at the way her footing slipped and she went under briefly. “But, that's kind of my point, I guess. Even if you change something huge... there's stuff that will happen anyway.”

“Mate... you've totally lost me,” AJ stated, and I could see her shaking her head in disbelief as I turned to her, water sluicing from her hair as it moved from side to side.

I sighed and cupped some pool water to rub over my face. I really hoped Bruce had rigged up some recording equipment so that he would get it, at least. But, I guess I needed to be a little less obtuse and metaphorical. “Okay, so... let me ask this, then. If you could have any superpower, what power would you want? Purely hypothetical.”

AJ pursed her lips and leaned back in the water to float for a moment. “Hmm... I guess... nah, wouldn't wanna know what people are thinkin. Ew. Ah... flight, I guess? Yeah, flying would be nice. Like that Super-guy over in Metropolis.”

“Alright... so, let's say that you're in a jam – a tight spot – and you accidentally say something you shouldn't have. Some made up word that just rolls off your tongue while you're dying down in a basement without enough air to breathe, okay?” I asked her, and her gaze sharpened.

“What'd you say?” AJ asked, naturally curious and growing more invested in the story.

“A name,” I sighed. “I said something's name. By accident. Not some demon or devil... more like... an alien. From outside our dimension. And he says he'll give me a superpower.”

“So... what was it?” She pressed, swimming out a little further as I leaned back and began to float. “The name... and the power you got?”

“Heh... I won't say it again,” I snorted. “He... well, hypothetically. He might have... shown me something. You ever heard the term 'Orrery of Worlds?'”

“Nope,” she shrugged, releasing the word with a pop of her lips.

“Well... If this actually happened and wasn't some kind of fever dream cooked up right before I managed to get the door open down there...” I sighed and grabbed a ledge, pulling myself from the pool and leaving my legs to dangle in the water. “Well, I'd have seen a lot of things. Possibilities. Stuff that could happen, stuff that won't ever. Bunch of presidents we never had. We'd have lost Vietnam if Russia hadn't nuked China, for instance. Closer to home... I saw a kid in a circus watch his parents fall to their deaths.”

AJ blinked up at me, her eyes widening.

Yeah, I didn't say anything about that, did I? I didn't tell Bruce that Dick had survived.

“Which... makes me wonder,” I hummed, thinking aloud to myself. “About Fate and Destiny and all that stuff. Because... if his parents had died, Bruce would have adopted Dick. Probably, at least. I tell Bruce, he saves them, then...”

“He takes me in, instead,” AJ muttered, frowning.

“But he met you before he would have gone to Haley's Circus that night,” I stated, kicking my legs in the water idly. “So... did that talk I had do something else? Not just change the Graysons' lives?”

“So... what, me being here is an accident?” AJ asked, a little morosely, looking away.

“A happy one,” I replied with a nod, then shrugged. “Me being alive is an accident, too, so you're in good company.”

She snorted, her frown flipping into a smirk. “So... that's it? You see things?”

I shrugged again. “I saw things. A snap shot, I guess. Or a bunch of them. Maybe a series of films or episodes would be a better analogy. It's... whatever.”

“So you know-” AJ cut herself off.

“I know a lot of things, yeah,” I chuckled. “Like... back when I invested in Bruce's company... I really thought he'd just fucked off to the mountains to live like an Appalachian mountain man or something. Dyed his hair, grew a beard, kicked up his feet for a few years and just got away from it all, did a business degree by teleconference or mail-order or something. Maybe some fake glasses, too, just for good measure.”

Seriously, Clark I hope Bruce gives you some shit over that in this timeline.

“Still believe that?” AJ asked, looking at me piercingly.

“It's definitely what I'll tell anyone who asks,” I replied, meeting her look evenly. “Like I said, I know a lot of things. A lot of secrets. None of them are mine to tell... well, except my own. My brother and sister know... some stuff. But only the secrets that were mine to share in the first place.”

“That simple, huh?” The girl asked, frowning at me.

“The idea of it, yeah,” I nodded, laughing self-deprecatingly. “In practice, it's all messy and complicated and boils down to whether someone believe you when you tell them what might have happened... or think that this lucky, stubborn thirteen-year-old kid's brain was starving to death of oxygen in an old bunker and imagined something impossible.”

AJ giggled, smirking as she slipped back into motion and started swimming again. “Yeah... I guess that'd be pants, to go through something crazy like that and have people laugh at you for it.”

“The nice room with the white padded walls would be pretty pants, too,” I replied pointedly. “If I didn't know how to keep my mouth shut.”

“So... why tell me, then? Some girl you just met, that you don't know from Adam?” She asked, looking back up to me. “I could tell your 'rents and they'd freak.”

“Bruce trusts you,” I told her bluntly. “Enough to ask me and report back to him, so that means I trust you.”

Her face colored and her shoulders drooped. “Dammit... you weren't supposed to figure that out.”

I shrugged. “Most people wouldn't. And most people would find it morally questionable to send a thirteen year old in to ask questions. But, hey, Alfred trusts Bruce, so I guess I should, too.”

“Alfie?” AJ asked, her irritated look shifting to one of surprise. “What's he got to do with this?”

“As long as any Bruce Wayne has an Alfred Pennyworth at his side... well, let's just say that even if I respect the hell out of Bruce... Alfred is someone I actually look up to,” I explained.

“Wait, wait, wait... Alfie? That Alfie?” AJ pointed off to the side where we'd come from. “Okay, maybe you are mad as a hatter.”

I shivered slightly at the unknowingly prophetic term, then snorted. “Nope. Alfred's one of the most amazing people in the world, a totally great guy, and he's a stone cold badass.”

AJ stared at me, her finger still pointing. “...okay then. Butler Fanboy Weirdo.”

“Hey, if I had to choose being Batman's sidekick or Alfred Pennyworth's, I'd totally take Alfred,” I declared unapologetically.

“Alright, I'll be Batgirl or whatever and you can be Butler Boy, then,” AJ smirked at me, thinking the name was going to set me off.

“A butler is a servant who cleans up messes and takes out the trash,” I replied haughtily, looking down my nose at her. “There is no more honorable a profession than seeing faithfully to the needs of others. Masked vigilantes could learn a thing or two from such noble souls.”

AJ snorted deep in her throat, then broke down laughing.

And splashed me.

…

The cave was silent, save for the sounds of two children laughing and splashing.

“A stone cold badass,” Bruce stated, his cowl pulled back exposing his unmasked face, a grin tugging at his lips.

“Is that jealousy I detect in your voice, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked, dipping slightly to pour the tea. “I must warn you, it's hardly becoming of a man your age.”

“Well, at least he has good taste in role models,” Bruce hummed, not commenting on the way the older man's ears had gone crimson.

“Though the fact that he knows anything of my past well enough to praise my character... well, it does lend credence to his claims, sir,” Alfred stated, clearing his throat slightly.

Bruce sighed as he watched his ward play with the boy from Colorado. “I think his story's true. But it's not the whole truth.”

“How so?” Alfred pressed, fighting down a fond smile at the sight of the children playing. It had been... too long since the laughter of children was common in Wayne Manor. No matter how rough the girl was, he'd see to her every need simply for that reason alone.

“Whatever this thing he called out to was,” Bruce thought aloud, “he didn't say what kind of power it gave him. Just that it showed him something. This 'Orrery of Worlds.'”

“I suppose that would be a lie of omission, then, if your deduction is true,” Alfred nodded. “Though... I'd say he's earned the benefit of the doubt, wouldn't you, sir?”

Bruce frowned slightly. It was unlike Alfred to speak up on someone's behalf like that, at least in the face of a direct accusation. The older man always did try to see the best in someone, to give them the benefit of the doubt. “The Graysons?”

“And Miss AJ,” Alfred pointed out. “I'm not blind to the fact that, after the young man's call, you brushed up on potential contingencies should your identity be found out, sir.”

Bruce considered himself many things, but willfully obtuse wasn't one of them. “You think that by being ready to counter Dodge's plan to blackmail me, that allowed me to save AJ.”

The Dark Knight fell silent at Alfred's meaningful shrug. “You must admit, sir... the pieces do line up neatly.”

“Hmm,” Bruce rumbled, an unhappy agreement.

“Well, regardless of potential revelations... you do need to prepare for dinner, Master Bruce,” Alfred reminded him. “I'll ready something a bit more casual for tonight while you shower off the soot from the dock fire. Do take care to use the red bottle this time, the excuse about chimney ash will only work so often.”

Bruce chuckled, shaking his head, and rose to ascend to the manor above. “I'll try, Alfred. Also, see about getting AJ and Arden out of the pool soon, will you?”

“Of course, sir,” Alfred nodded. “It's days like this that make me wonder where you would be without me.”

There was a moment of silence as Bruce's foot slipped, Alfred stilling as the words left his mouth.

“I think we should take care to never need to find out,” Bruce said firmly, his eyes flicking back to Arden Villin as he took a jump off the diving board.

“As you say, sir,” Alfred said, clearing his throat again at his faux-pas. “As you say.”

~~~

Woo... this was a doozy. Big, important conversation.

I think it went pretty well, but I'd be interested in feedback on it. Took a lot of effort to get Arden to the point of talking clear enough to get his story across in a pseudo-deniable way, but still keep the imperfect voice of a thirteen year old - if a mature one - behind what he was saying.

Anyway... hope you enjoyed the chapter! Next up is A Hand We're Dealt, and...

Well, that chapter may be delayed due to inclement weather. For those watching the news, there's this whole 'polar vortex' thing going on and a huge line of freezing rain/sleet/snow coming in for the weekend. Historically... my area is in the deep south and does not have a good track record of dealing with winter weather.

I may be trapped at home over the entire weekend with the roads iced and impassible, is what I'm saying. Which would normally be great for writing, but if that happens, the power is almost certain to go out.

So we'll see! If the power stays on, I'll have the chapter up over the weekend as usual. If the power gets knocked out, it might be Monday or so before I can post it.

Thank you for your patience and support!

Mind Games - Chapter 50

Fuyumi crossed her arms over her chest and stared me down.

I continued working, unmoved by the disbelief in my superior's gaze.

“So...” She said leadingly, expectantly, as if she was owed some kind of explanation.

“I still think my actions regarding Intelli Tenshi and my school were above-board and will not be apologizing for them,” I replied bluntly, my fingers tapping away at the keyboard in front of me.

“That's not-!” Fuyumi began, then gave an aggravated sigh. “I was talking about your cooking video!”

I blinked, affecting a surprised and oblivious expression as I finally turned to look at her. “Oh? Sorry, I must have misunderstood.”

Fuyumi's eyelids dropped and she scowled at me. “Did Toga really get angry at you because you didn't wake her up to cook for you?”

“Yes,” I replied simply, sighing deeply. “Yes, she did.”

I'd found an alleyway without CCTV surveillance, dropped my bike off at Home, shifted back to my male body, and walked the last three blocks back to Himiko's apartment complex, stopping to pick up convenience store food on the way. Nothing I'd said on the cooking stream had been a lie, I'd just strategically omitted the vigilante shootout with a semi-eldritch monster.

Which was something else I needed to worry about.

Fuyumi stared at me for a long moment, then sighed and palmed her face. “A-are you two... fighting? Over this?”

I frowned, cocking my head slightly, then shook it. “Not in the conventional way most people would understand 'fighting' in this context, no.”

“Do I need to be concerned?” Fuyumi pressed.

I hummed, then shook my head again. “I don't think so. Himiko is irritated at me, but understands that the actions I took were out of consideration for her, not a slight against her homemaking skills.”

Fuyumi stared at me again, silent and... well, not judging, since she apparently didn't know what to make of me. “Okay... I'm here if you need me, Hitoshi, but... don't take this the wrong way? I just don't understand your relationship dynamic with Himiko, okay?”

“Points for honesty,” I replied with a sigh, giving in to the urge to stretch and pop my joints.

“How's your first week at school?” She asked, finally entering my small office space and taking one of the guest chairs. They weren't the best, taken from the surplus pile in storage, but I'd shelled out for better ones for myself and Himiko.

“Over,” I replied bluntly, then shrugged at her insistent stare. “Kind of a dumpster fire, but I didn't get burned personally, so... fine, I guess?”

“Shinso...” Fuyumi warned, intensifying her stare. “I heard about Aizawa’s trial by fire. While I don’t agree with his pedagogy, I can understand the basis for his decision-making. Even if I feel it doesn’t come from a place of logic like he says it does.”

“I’ll be sure to send him your objection,” I replied dryly.

“More importantly, I’m happy that you stood up and inspired at least a few of your classmates to follow you instead of that other student. I’m proud that you didn’t just decide to blow them off and leave them to their fate when you entirely could have,” Fuyumi explained further.  “You can be… a bit standoffish at times. So it’s encouraging to see you try to engage with people. Was everything else okay?”

For a moment, I thought about explaining the mess that had been the practical exercise, but decided against it. Fuyumi didn’t need anything else to mother hen me about.

I rolled my eyes and gave her a more expressive shrug, holding my arms out for emphasis. I wasn't even wearing my mask or mouth guard right now, so she could see the disgruntled frown on my face as well. “It's high school. What do you want me to say? I know most of the material, my classmates are... tolerably incompetent, and all of the teachers I've had know their shit, so far.”

“Putting aside the cursing and how refreshing it is to hear you sound like a normal teenager for a change,” Fuyumi began, getting an annoyed grunt from me. “Did you remember to hand in notice for your court appearances?”

“First one's this Wednesday, right?” I asked, knowing it was, but receiving a pleasant and relieved nod in confirmation. “Yeah, I sent it straight to the principal's desk, figured that was easier.”

“Good,” she nodded, still looking intently at me. “I think UA's good for you, Hitoshi. You should really try to make friends with your classmates.”

I hummed, reaching for my drink. “I'll be teaching them how to use their quirks more effectively, so we're likely to bond through that.”

Fuyumi sighed again.

She seemed to do that a lot around me.

Probably just coincidence.

“You do understand that the school is supposed to teach them how to use their quirks?” She asked rhetorically. “You said yourself that the teachers seem to understand their content specializations, you should let them do their jobs.”

I grunted, turning back to my work. “I also said that I already know most of the material. The practical exercises are valuable, but the academic content is underwhelming. If I don't find something to occupy my time, I'm going to die of boredom, Hot Ice.”

Fun Fact: River Tam's academy had her designing and implementing real, actual spaceship proposals.

The part of me that was her wanted to cry tears of frustration at being presented with calculus as supposedly-challenging subject matter.

I decided to preempt whatever Fuyumi was going to say when I saw her opening her mouth out of the corner of my eye. “It's either that or... I guess I start explaining the work I do for the Celestial Bureaucracy to my classmates.”

Fuyumi groaned while I didn't bother to hide my smirk.

“Hitoshi...” My superior coworker sighed again. “Please don't intentionally drive your classmates away with your elaborately plotted character flaw for your hero persona.”

I outright chuckled. “They're all such borderline or actual delinquents that they'd probably find the entire thing more funny than socially ostracizing.”

She pressed a pair of fingers to one of her temples and massaged it. “Okay, I know I'm going to regret asking this, but... when you say delinquents...?”

“One of them doesn't have a criminal record,” I replied casually, Fuyumi making a noise of quiet suffering and frustration. “Mainly because he's too good at hacking to get caught by school authorities, but... his file's clean, at least.”

She released another one of those noises. “Okay... stop. I don't know if I can take anymore right now. Let's talk about something else. You know Tye is coming for a visit today, right?”

“I've got it on my schedule, yep,” I nodded, humming. The insectoid heteromorph was a semi-frequent visitor at the Agency over the past few weeks, especially since I was still the primary contact for the refugee community. Honestly, I probably should make more time to interact with them, but some of them had picked up enough broken Japanese to communicate and Endeavor had hard-capped my hours.

Also, I was really, really busy.

Can't forget that.

Fuyumi would get irate if she found out I'd cut my sleep hours any further.

“Good, I wanted you to make sure he knew that he might be called to testify,” Fuyumi continued. “Since we've found a more accredited translator who can serve as a neutral party and cultural expert, your primary job will be proving your ability with their language as the initial justification for our investigation and arrests.”

I nodded, hitting a few more keys before saving my work. Himiko was due back any-

The door swung open. “Hi-hi!”

I looked up and smiled. “They finished your costume.”

Himiko grinned widely, doing a twirl as her red cape with gold-threaded trim around the edges of the garment. The hood hung against the back of her neck, the material stiffened slightly so that it wouldn't simply outline her head when it was up. Along the curl of material that swept across the front of her neck were an impressive set of sharpened teeth set into the fabric.

All of which was worn over a fairly nondescript bodysuit of lightly-reinforced black fabric.

“Everything except the helmet,” Himiko's shoulders drooped slightly. “But it still looks cute, right boyfriend?”

“You look adorable,” I confirmed with a smile, the blond girl squealing slightly and dancing around the workstation in front of me to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Fuyumi cleared her throat pointedly.

Himiko lost a bit of her giddiness and gave Fuyumi a huffy pout. “You could have given Hitoshi-kun a kiss while I was getting my costume! I wouldn't have minded!”

Fuyumi's eyes widened and she choked on air, leaning over and coughing violently at the offer.

I sighed and rolled my eyes, giving Himiko a firm pop on the rear while Fuyumi's eyes were averted. Squeaking, Himiko gave me a fond look before fetching a class of water for Fuyumi, which was one of the only perks of having an office that had been converted from a large supply closet. Thankfully, I'd gotten them to swap out the sink and managed to sneak in a water filter paid for out of my own pocket.

That and a small refrigerator made the space surprisingly homey.

But mostly I just didn't want to get into the habit of heading Home anytime I needed a drink or something. Eventually someone would remember to put surveillance cameras up in here, though I wasn't actively pursuing that.

Then my phone went off, and I sighed as I reached for the device, my shoulders already dipping as I considered who wanted more of my time. Coming up with a blank, I raised an eyebrow at the notification. “Huh. Your dad wants to talk to me. And Himiko, if she's available.”

Fuyumi had straightened up, blinking in mild surprise. “Hmm... I didn't think he'd need you for anything today. Well, I guess we should go ahead and see what he wants. He gets grumpy if you make him wait too long.”

I snorted and Himiko giggled as we all made our short preparations to go. For me, it was as simple as putting my fabric mask and mouth-guard on, snapping the collapsed helmet on my belt and slipping my bow and quiver onto my back.

“You do know you're unlikely to get a field deployment anytime soon, right?” Fuyumi asked, amused as my quick gear-up.

“Just creating good habits,” I replied with a short shrug. “Rather have and not need, than need and not have... that kind of thing.”

Hot Ice rolled her eyes and held up her hand with splayed fingers, visually giving up ownership of the situation. As we all walked out the door, Himiko falling into lock-step behind me as she believed she should, Fuyumi gave me a curious look. “What were you working on, anyway? You usually finish everything before noon.”

“Cold case stuff,” I replied, then shrugged at her lingering look of closer interest. “I've been using my credentials to pull up a lot of cold cases from the past few decades and looking them over. It's within my purview, fills my hours, and you aren't going to get any sudden calls about me needing you to watch a live stream of my reveal of a teenage prostitution ring. Promise.”

Another sigh, complete with face palm. “I swear to the gods, Shinso... I will make you work entirely through paper hard copy files if you cause another incident like that.”

“Not planning on it,” I replied, though... in my opinion, not planning those situations made them all the more dangerous. If you planned them, you could handle them more effectively. “Besides, since I'm not required to hand in physical copies of any cases I file to both you and Endeavor – along with verbal notification – you should see them coming a mile away if I do.”

“Good,” Fuyumi muttered, the noise an irritated grunt as we closed in on the door, which she grabbed and-

My eyebrows shot high.

“-so I'm going to be running Class 1-B through the same exercise next week and was wondering if you had any pointe-ah, looks like they're here,” All Might stopped mid-sentence as he turned.

“I have a few thoughts on the matter, but we can discuss it later,” Endeavor stated, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair as he sighted us.

“Mr. Bootstrap,” Eri called, waving – then blushing as she noticed both Himiko and Fuyumi turn to her.

“Oooooh! She's cute! Super-mega-ultra cutie!” Himiko squealed, clasping her hands together and bouncing in place, making the small child duck her head a bit further into All Might's arm.

“Da-ah, Endeavor?” Fuyumi stumbled verbally, clearing her throat. “I was with Shinso when you called, so I thought I'd come along. Make sure he didn't find himself in any trouble in the thirty meters it took to get to your office.”

I didn't react to the judging look the members of the Todoroki family sent me.

“I'd object, but I feel like I probably deserve that level of suspicion,” I stated, nodding.

“You do,” Enji stated unilaterally, his eyes narrowed at me as his beard flared. “But, given you are now fully enrolled in UA and have cleared your first week of school with... minimal issues that can be laid at your feet-”

All Might winced and looked away at the mild rebuke.

“-All Might has presented me with a unique and interesting option for a proper punishment detail,” Endeavor stated.

I flicked a look to the shy little girl and nodded. “Ah.”

“Y-yes, well... I didn't mean it as such,” All Might stated, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I hope you don't mind, young Shinso, but I contacted Endeavor in the hopes that he might free up a few hours of your schedule. You see, Eri really is quite taken with you and none of the sitters I've interviewed have the... er, talent to deal with her special needs.”

Translator's Note: They can't turn her quirk off.

Quirks like that were rare, after all, and their users almost always had better options than playing nanny to the children of heroes, no matter how important. All Might could probably use his rep to pull a black ops agent off duty to babysit in a pinch, but... in addition to the fact that you seldom wanted an assassin taking care of your child, he also wasn't the type to pull rank outside of a life or death crisis.

I imagine he could probably source some kind of emotional manipulator that could force Eri into a state of calm or perhaps an area of effect quirk that could put her to sleep without physical contact, although the matter of personal connection with the traumatized girl was still important.

“And Eraserhead is only willing to offer so much help,” Toshinori continued, fidgeting a bit. “It really would help me out a great deal if you could keep an eye on m-my daughter for a few hours every now and then.”

“Which made me consider the requests that I've been getting for more visits with the young refugee child, Tye,” Endeavor stated, casually removing a bottle of water from behind his desk and uncapping it to take a large pull. “I'm not blind to the fact that any traditional punishment I could dish out to you, Shinso, would simply be taken in stride, finished faster than I could have expected, and no doubt allowed you to leverage your position to interfere in something you shouldn't be messing about with.”

“I mean... that's kind of what I'd been counting on as far as whatever punishment you came up with,” I stated with a sigh, reaching up and scratching at the back of my head.

No lie, I'd been hoping that I would be too hard to really punish that Endeavor would have just settled for collating files he'd inherited from a defunct hero agency or something. That would have been a great research opportunity most people would have whined about being forced to deal with.

“I'd intuited that, yes,” Enji stated, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“I feel the need to point out that assigning someone to take care of small children as a punishment might send the wrong signals and behaviorally warp them regarding the prospect of having children of their own,” I told my direct superior.

Endeavor leaned forward, his elbows on his desk as he stared me down. “You're an intelligent young man, Bootstrap. I trust you to be able to overcome such a minor adversity in the life of a hero.”

“Awesome, thanks Boss.” I sighed and walked over to All Might, kneeling so that I was on Eri's level as I loosened my face mask and pulled down the cloth underneath it. “Hey Eri, looks like you're going to be spending time with me, okay? Maybe I can even introduce you to my girlfriend over there, okay?”

Red eyes blinked at me, shifting to look at the still-bouncing Himiko. “Girlfriend?”

I nodded. “Her name is Toga Himiko, she's training to be a hero just like me. Her hero name is Carmilla and she's super nice. You might remember her from the songs I sang? We called her 'Blondie,' right?”

Eri's eyes sparkled and widened. “Ms. Blondie! She sang so nice!”

“Well, how about we hang out with her and I can get you some paper and crayons to draw with, okay?” I asked, holding out my hands.

The unicorn's eyes tracked to Toshinori, who gave a relieved nod as Eri climbed out of his lap and into my arms. I gave a little 'oof,' of performative effort as I held her up. “Okay... I'm on the clock until five today, then I've got to head home to eat with my father. All Might, I trust you'll pick her up then?”

The smiling blond superhero grinned widely. “Of course! And I'll be in contact with Endeavor about your schedule. I understand you've got a court appearance this coming week. Those are never particularly enjoyable, you have my sympathies.”

“Thanks, I'll be accompanying Hot Ice, so at least I'll have someone to check me on etiquette,” I replied with a nod, then paused. “Endeavor mentioned him, but I assume you have no problem with Eri sharing a space with Tye?”

All Might shook his head, waving me off. “No, no... it'll be good for her. She... needs to meet other kids. Even if he doesn't speak the language very well yet, some socialization for my little girl will be good.”

I nodded, having suspected something along those lines.

“Oh, before I forget!” All Might snapped his fingers and reached around to the other side of his chair, bringing up a large canvas bag with a unicorn on it. “Here are all of Eri's things, I've included some emergency contacts – though you're better off coming to Todoroki here in the event of a real crisis – and an assortment of things for her to watch and play with. No need to find any crayons, for instance, I've got that covered. Paper, too!”

I wonder if I look in his back pocket if I'll find a book on 'Parenting for Dummies' stashed there?

“I can help Shinso if he has any questions,” Hot Ice stepped forward with her offer. “I've got plenty of experience looking after younger siblings.”

“I'll help, too! She's so adorable!” Himiko squeaked, finally coming over to greet her. “Hi! You said you liked my singing, didn't you cutie?”

I sighed as the girls fawned over Eri, who seemed torn between trepidation and happiness, and gave my flame-bearded boss a look. He had, indeed, found a way to actually punish me and make the message stick.

He was forcing me to be unproductive with my time.

He might be the Flame Hero, but Todoroki Enji was truly a cold-hearted bastard.

“Excellent! Now perhaps young Toga’s practical exercise won’t level the entire training ground like your class did, young Shinso!” All Might chuckled.

“What, what happened?!” Endeavor asked, looking between the country’s greatest hero and myself.

Then, shamelessly, I seized on my new adorable excuse. “How about we go get you settled Eri?  I think I can find a lap desk you can use until we find something better?”

“Ooo! I know where it is, I’ll go pull it out!” Himiko chirped happily.

Behind me, I left All Might to get grilled by Endeavor in my place, utterly unapologetic about doing so. Interestingly, Fuyumi seemed to already know about what had happened. I wondered about the story behind that.

~~~

Woo! The Big 5-0! Fifty full chapters of Mind Games and still going strong.

Okay, this chapter officially ends the 'Initial UA Arc' for those keeping track of such things. Next chapter of Mind Games will feature a more even mix of Hitoshi going to school and doing some official heroics stuff on the legal side of things, such as the impending court case involving the quirk traffickers.

On the school side of things, expect Hitoshi to begin some quirk tutoring with his classmates, so we'll have a few more action scenes there, too.

And, in between all of that, Perspicacious Mauve Avenger is plotting her next vigilante strike. Which will have a lot of build up this coming arc, but I don't think we'll quite get to the reveal. There will be some important hints here and there, groundwork being laid, and a few conversations with everyone's favorite rodent of indiscriminate species. Which I'm sure will be fun.

As far as the next update goes, though... either Butler Boy or The Hand We're Dealt!

Thanks again for all your support!

Mind Games - Chapter 47.5 (NSFW)

Passion would come later, reassurance was needed right now.

And, like with most things for Himiko, words meant little to her. Action meant much more.

“I love you,” I whispered, pulling away from her slightly, but pushing into her with my quirk.

Himiko locked up in my arms, the hissing squeal of a teakettle erupting from her as her face went as red as her yukata.

Well, okay... words still meant something to her, I suppose.

Certain specific words, I reflected, as I pulled at her yukata and unwrapped her beautiful curves.

“Husband?” Himiko asked as she sat on my lap, her knees resting on the outside of my legs.

“Hmm, yes wife?” I replied, my hands running along her back and drawing pleasant shivers from her.

“I'd like to make a request,” Himiko stated, immediately drawing my full attention as I looked up. Straddling my lap as she raised her head just slightly above my own eye level. Though, given what was at eye level for me, I wasn't complaining all that much.

“Name it and you'll have it,” I assured her.

Her face was blank as she stared at me, returning to her more comfortable inhuman analytical gaze. For a long moment, she hesitated, tension building in her frame as micro-expressions warred across her face. I waited it out, content to allow her to consider whatever she was thinking about fully lest she retract her request.

Finally, the internal disagreement seemed to settle and she took a breath before speaking, the words coming out awkward and stiff, an unfamiliar cadence as she broke from her normal routine to actually ask for something. “I am worried that you will not enjoy tonight as you should. You worry over me, which although I enjoy – no one ever has before.”

“It's the duty of any self-respecting man to ensure their woman enjoys what is, effectively, their wedding night,” I replied, my hands resuming their soft motions on her body. “Your satisfaction will be my own.”

Golden eyes glinted with irritation as emotion rose up and was soundly defeated. “I won't be satisfied as a woman, or a wife, unless you pleasure yourself as you wish. That is a woman's satisfaction.”

I cocked my head slightly, looking at her at an angle.

“This is important to you,” I stated tonelessly.

Even if it was a declaration, Himiko still nodded. “Hitoshi is what's important. If my first time doesn't satisfy him, I'll be a failure as a girlfriend and wife.”

I considered that reply for a moment, then discarded it. Such a course of events would be more than merely 'unfortunate,' it would lay the groundwork for deep resentment, of a kind which couldn't just be 'fixed' with simple mind control.

If I was willing to actually purchase an upgrade to my binding or use deep hypnosis with my quirk, I might be able to alter Himiko's subconscious to the point where me catering to her desires didn't bother her enough to be a real problem. I wasn't going to do that, though, for what I hoped were obvious reasons. Beyond the moral and ethical, anyway.

Simply altering someone's conscious or subconscious mind in such a way had the very real danger of creating compounding irregularities in someone's thought processes that would, unaddressed, potentially lead to a complete systems' collapse in the person's mental state.

The core foundation of Toga Himiko was, to put it concisely, 'Obey Social Constructs.'

In other words, she wanted to be 'normal.'

Simply with a warped version of what that word really meant.

As we were now, the binding on her had softened the hard edges of that commandment. The lines between what was 'acceptable' and 'unacceptable' socially were blurred such that Himiko could make choices outside her normal paradigm as long as they were in my favor. 'Normal' became 'Normal Relevant to Hitoshi.'

But there were limits.

Limits that, if I pushed her past, would result in a different kind of mental instability than she'd developed, once upon a time. But, for all that it wouldn't be the same, it would be equally terrifying, I was sure.

Toga Himiko wasn't the kind of existence that could accept fundamental changes to her worldview.

“Hmm... whatever I want, then?” I asked her seriously, intently.

This close, she was probably able to read my physiological responses almost as well as I could read hers. Her lips parted in a slow smile, showing more teeth than she usually would. Not quite the full row, but we got closer each week. Gradual, but sure progress.

“Whatever Hitoshi wants,” Himiko replied with that same smile.

I rolled her without another word, pinning her beneath me.

Part of me did want to make this gentle, to torture her into screaming and moaning my name. To play the part of the diabolical lover slowly twisting their companion into the extremes of pleasure. The urge to reduce her to a glassy-eyed piece of meat begging for me to satisfy her baser instincts was there, I won't lie.

And it wasn't as though I didn't know how to do it.

But... no. Not tonight.

I lined myself up and pierced her.

Between the powers I'd purchased and how damp she was, it wasn't as rough as it could have been, but it still wasn't pleasant for Himiko. I have no doubt it hurt as she gasped and shuddered, small tears forming at the edges of her eyes.

I drove myself further inside her regardless.

The warmth of her core was enticing beyond words as I slammed myself home, sinking as deep as was possible with the third stroke and opening her up fully with a grunt of effort.

As much as it would have been fun to dismantle her piece by piece...

I enjoyed this, too.

Simply crashing through all of her barriers, destroying any and all resistance, and taking what pleasure I wanted knowing that she could withstand the assault. There would be time enough for complex games of temptation and manipulation later. This, though, was something I needed, now that I was feeling it.

No more plans.

No more schemes.

No more sidereal.

Just me and my woman.

“Ugh!” Himiko grunted, her breasts heaving with the motion of my thrusts. “H-harder!”

I snorted and leaned in, stealing a kiss as her arms came up and around my neck, pulling me into an embrace. “I thought this was about-ah! Me?”

Himiko smiled against my cheek as she pulled me close, her breasts squeezed against my own chest. “That's what-ah! H-hitoshi w-wants-oh! Isn't it?”

I pulled back, the satisfaction and enjoyment on her face as I drove deeper into her cunt... that knowing look. That understanding. Something within me snapped. I bucked against her, throwing her arms from my neck and smoothly grabbing her wrists to pin them against the bed behind her head. The motion left me bowed over her, looming in a position of power and domination.

Her golden eyes were wide, surprise stripping her of her glee.

“Be careful what you wish for,” I told her in no uncertain terms, my voice a low growl, “you just might get it.”

I felt her clench around me as a quivering moan crawled up her throat.

On hand clenched around both her wrists, the other went to her neck, careful pressure around it. Even then, I'd leave marks, I knew.

Whatever, she can wear her new costume to work tomorrow, it has a bodysuit that covers the neck.

Caution examined and discarded, I went back to pistoning into her.

Perhaps, I thought, as I felt her arch against me in her first orgasm of the night... I'd lied to myself, just a little. I still wanted to make her scream and cry and moan my name. But I didn't want to do it with care and attention. I wanted to force it.

There was a time and place for our little mind games.

But this wasn't it.

“AAH!” Himiko wailed suddenly, the pleasure finally reaching her brain as she spasmed beneath me. “Ah!”

My lips curled as she writhed, my hand on her neck reading her labored gasps for air as sensations she'd never felt before flooded and overwhelmed her.

But I'd gotten bored of this position.

I slipped out of her, ignoring the copious fluid staining the sheets, and took hold of her hip with one hand, rolling her over forcefully. Pressing one hand on her back, my knees slipped between hers and pressed her legs apart, creating ample space for me to force myself into her once again.

Himiko whined below me, the noise almost lost against the bedding.

I leaned forward.

“Hold on tight, Dear,” I whispered into her ear, the word 'anata' making her whimper and clench, “you're in for a long night.”

Then I slammed into her.

“Eee!” Himiko squealed, her fingers clawing at the sheets as I pushed forward hard enough to make her body slide over the bedding. “Ah-ah-ah!”

Disregarding any and all care, I pulled back a hand and gave her ass a rough slap.

“Aaaah!” The cry was high-pitched, full of surprise... and relief, as the sensation of the strike pushed her over the edge.

Distantly, I realized that... for all her neuroses and sociopathy, Himiko had been right. I'd need this, more than even I'd known. It was an incredible relief not to care about what came next. Not to be planning twenty steps ahead. Not to feel the weight of the world bearing down on me as I made choices that would impact the lives of millions.

No, here and now, it was just Himiko and myself.

The pursuit of pleasure.

The meeting of flesh against flesh.

Animalistic desire alighted in my mind and I thrust a final time, feeling my release erupt inside her as I bent over her body, pressing her into the mattress as she quaked and writhed against me. Trying to embrace me? Trying to throw me off? None of it mattered.

Another impulse struck me and I acted.

Some part of the sidereal that I couldn't turn off? Possibly.

More likely, though, it was my own quirk as it grew and evolved with use. The powers I'd purchased spurring it onwards in ways and speeds that it wouldn't have otherwise.

Either way, I opened my mouth and bit.

As my teeth broke the flesh of Himiko's neck, she screamed.

The sound was almost deafening, even pressed against the mattress as she was. Her fingers pierced through the sheets and tore at the material as her body erupted.

Eventually... we both collapsed, the tension fading from our muscles as I pulled the blissed-out girl against me, her soft curves meeting my own hard muscles.

“Mmm... love my husband,” she whispered dreamily.

“Love you too, wife,” I hummed in reply, my own eyes falling shut soon after.

~~~

I did say I was working on an extended sex scene for Chapter 47.

This doesn't quite mesh with the existing text of the chapter as-is, so I'll be cutting a bit of it off when it goes to public posting to smooth out the transition between what already exists and this extension.

Hope everyone enjoys this! Oh, and the picture! As a special bonus, here's a sneak-preview of Himiko's Hero Costume as Carmilla, to be formally revealed during the next chapter, which I am still working on and should get released in a day or so.

Hope everyone is having a great week and that this helped make things a bit more enjoyable!

Thank you again for all of your support!

Butler Boy - Chapter 16

I was glad that I wasn't in Marvel instead of DC, because Iron Man would have sued for copyright infringement.

That's because, contrary to the Human Torch's usual application of his abilities, a pyrokinetic of sufficient skill didn't need to have flames manifested over their entire body in order to fly. Even with bullshit metagene superpowers and an extradimensional gacha, physics and thrust vectors were still a thing. All you really needed to fly was producing enough lift and aiming it properly relative to the direction you wanted to travel in.

Now, that said, going full 'flame on' had its advantages in being able to manifest thrust at virtually any angle at a split-second's notice given fire already existed all around you.

Handy, but not necessary.

Hence the fact that I was currently flying with only a set of four burning jets, one providing thrust out of each extended limb. It was a lot, lot less noticeable than turning yourself into a giant comet and flashing through the sky.

“Really wish I had that stealth skill right about now, Algie,” I muttered, the rushing wind stealing the words from my mouth as I flew around the city.

Fast, small, overhead and out of a direct line of sight. Not high enough to hide in the clouds, especially since I'd have to flame up to keep warm... a few hundred feet up in Gotham's early-spring damp Atlantic coastal air was already pushing it, even with a hoodie on.

“Okay, here we go...” I could see emergency responders crawling towards the fire on the roads below, flashing lights in the waning afternoon light. That and... “Shit!”

I ducked down and slid behind a billboard as a helicopter came into view, the logo of a local news station on its side.

Of course, of course... have to keep people up to date on the latest disaster... dammit.

Thankfully, I'd made it close enough to the fire. It was a blazing beacon on a sense that had only ever really felt the stove's burners or the occasional candle flame. The gentle pilot burn of the pilot light on that and the water heater had become constant companions these last few weeks.

This was light seeing the sun for the first time after only ever knowing the warmth and light of a campfire.

I took a deep breath and crouched slightly on the roof, keeping low behind one of the billboard's pillars as I sat myself down to concentrate. “Let's do this... easy now...”

I put my hands out in front of me, as if reaching for something invisible. The gesture was meaningless, but helped me articulate the metaphysical power I'd only begun to understand. My willpower stretched out, taking hold of the flames, and...

Slowly, but with growing surety and speed, the fire shrank.

Sweat broke out on my forehead. This was a hardy blaze, fed by spilled fuel, chemicals, and old wood. It was stubborn and I was still a comparative neophyte at controlling my power.

“No you don't... no you don't...” It was like trying to compress a ball of mud. Tiny spurts of heat and light attempted to escape my fingers, but I held firm.

Over the next few minutes, the dock fire shrank. By this point, firefighters had already set up, throwing water on the affected area and trying to establish a cordon. As I pulled the flames back, they soaked the scorched wood and concrete it left behind, cooling and soaking the area to keep it from returning.

True heroes, ladies and gents. No powers and still putting their lives on the line.

I sighed out the breath I'd been holding and drew in a new one.

“There we go... now go out...” I hissed, narrowing my gaze behind the aviator glasses I'd slipped on as part of my 'disguise.' “Almost... almost...”

My hands closed fully, extinguishing the blaze.

Hoses swept over the warehouse a moment later, dousing what had been a roaring inferno a few moments before. I released my grip, the sudden absence of my control allowing the smoldering embers to attempt to surge back to life, but the continuing downpour of water meant it couldn't gain a foothold.

I sighed again, this time for real, and mopped my forehead clean with my sleeve.

“Time to get out of here,” I muttered, sweeping my gaze around for any late-arriving choppers. Establishing that the coast was as clear as it was going to get and that the-

I blinked, watching a surveillance blimp rumble in from the distance, search lights sweeping across the burned-out husk's wreckage.

“Right... right... fucking bizarro world,” I muttered, shaking my head. I knew to expect them, having seen that a few east-coast cities used them, but... seeing them in real life was just so fucking odd that it still surprised me.

I turned away from the blimp and took off at a run across the rooftop, jet-like flames erupting from my hands and feet as I took off... this time going as high as I could as quickly as I could, making a parabola arc over the most populated part of the city.

Yes, it was freezing, my lungs felt like they were on fire for a few moments, and the entire experience generally sucked ass.

But no one looks up.

And given that I'd eaten a full in-flight meal of beef burguignon on the plane, my tank was full enough to burn a STIM use to recover from the exertion. Between that and a brief flame up to shed the atmospheric moisture I'd accumulated, I was soon stripping off my hoodie and sunglasses to run back to my parents.

“-there he is!” Mom sighed explosively, looking put-out as she laid eyes on me, turning back to the driver at the sleek black limousine. “I'm terribly sorry, my son's back now.”

Not Alfred, huh? Ah... he must be playing majordomo for the party tomorrow night.

“It's perfectly alright, ma'am,” the man in a crisp uniform pulled straight from the forties, tipping his hat with a smile. “We've only just finished loading the luggage, it's nor a problem.”

“S-sorry,” I said, feigning a visibly out-of-breath state as I put my hands on my knees. “I went to find a bathroom and got a little lost.”

“See, told'ya,” Algie nodded, his shoulders relaxing in a way that couldn't be explained by such a casual reason for my absence.

“Ye~ep,” Addie hummed, giving me the evil eye. “Not the first time he's gotten lost on a family trip. Remember the Grand Canyon?”

I winced, my face heating as Dad laughed. “Ah... ten minutes of panic before we realized he'd discovered the arcade. I suppose Arden does have a bit of a history going MIA.”

“Yep,” Addie replied, her eyes not leaving me as Algie shifted in place awkwardly between us.

“I feel like you all just want life to be boring instead of having adventures and creating memorable moments which we can look back on with fond exasperation,” I replied dryly, crossing my arms.

Mom rolled her eyes at me while Dad and Algie snickered at my reply, though it failed to move Addie a single emotional inch from her obvious irritation. “Okay, young man, you've had your fun... honestly, I don't know why you just didn't go before we got off the plane.”

Muttering an excuse about not wanting to inconvenience the cleaning staff, we all started to pile into the waiting vehicle.

A feminine hand clamped onto my shoulder.

I turned, raising an eyebrow.

Addie stared down at me.

“Someone could have gotten hurt – or died,” I stated, my tone low as the driver departed under my Dad's assurances that we could close the door ourselves.

“I'm not concerned about someone,” Addie hissed, “I'm concerned about you. My little brother, my responsibility.”

“I'll try to keep the shenanigans to a minimum,” I replied, then winced as my stomach growled.

“We just ate,” Addie frowned, looking me over.

“I'm a growing boy?” I asked in a hopeful reply.

My sister stared at me for a moment longer, then gave me a half-push towards the car. “I'm watching you.”

“Yeah, yeah...” I sighed, rolling my eyes as I slid down the long line of seats on the side until I was close enough to pick at the artistically arranged snacks. “Hey, Algie, where's my-”

He gave my art bag a short toss, and I nodded. “Cool, thanks.”

“No problem, squirt,” he shrugged, settling in on the other side of the snack area and perusing the drinks. “Your, uh... bathroom trip go okay?”

“As uneventful as it could be,” I replied, slipping a hand into my pocket and showing him the flash of gold... and silver?”

He blinked, his eyes flicking towards our parents as Addie sat down next to us. “What's the silver for?”

“Ride on a billionaire's private jet, apparently,” I replied with a snort, folding it between two fingers and pausing. “I know you said no more, but...”

He grimaced and shook his head, understanding where I was going with the offer. “Nah, you keep it Arden. Especially if you're going to be doing stuff like that... you'll need it.”

I sighed, nodding, and slipped the tickets back into my pocket. As much as I wanted to rip them right now, I wasn't quite so desperate anymore. The fire and the flight had flushed the adrenaline from my system and I wasn't as spooked anymore. Granted, I was still anxious, but... I wasn't quite as dumb as to make an actual gacha pull inside of one of Bruce Wayne's vehicles.

...even if Batman finding out the broad strokes of my powers eventually is a given, doing that in the bathroom of his private jet was stupid. As stupid as trying a curse out in the first place, really.

It was a reminder that, for all my worldly experience, I was still thirteen in every way that mattered, neurochemistry included. I got jumpy, scared, insecure, and made half-cocked decisions too easily. I still stood by the reasons I'd made them, but... I could have chosen a better path putting thought to deed in many regards.

Still, regret wouldn't solve anything.

Recognize the problem, evaluate its causal factors, and resolve to do better.

Those were the thoughts on my mind as I demolished a small meal of empty calories to sate my resurgent appetite while the limo wound its way through the outskirts of Gotham. It was the neighborhood of the city's elite, consisting of higher-end suburbs, gated communities, and the occasional old-money mansion or estate. The last of these, obviously, was our destination.

Wayne Manor.

I'd seen it depicted in over a dozen different ways, but the only word I could think of to describe the home before me was 'classic.'

It was built halfway up a steep hill, possibly a small mountain, in the center of a huge section of walled-off forest. Two large streams – small rivers – cut through the long road up to the property, only passable by way of a pair of hundred-year-old stone bridges. The forest was dark and deep on either side, especially with the now-faded evening twilight.

Then the road opened up onto a carefully manicured driveway that made an elaborate loop around the property, curving around various hedges, fountains, and other small out-buildings that surrounded the main house.

Or castle.

It was built in stone, not wood or brick. Granite, if I had to guess, likely mined from the surrounding hills. A five story building that loomed like something much larger, a structure that held the weight and gravitas of something entirely unlike the Gotham city I'd glimpsed as I'd flown over it briefly.

It was the kind of place that looked at a skyscraper and knew which of them would still be standing in another century.

“Always impresses me, every time I see it,” Marvin, the driver, stated as we filed out and made the appropriate noises of appreciation. “The place is almost as old as the United States, you know? From what I've heard, the original lodge built on the property was even older than that.”

He was close, at least. I'd done one of those asinine 'important person' reports back during middle school on Bruce Wayne and, to some degree, his family at large as well. The manor house originally predated the revolution by a good fifty years, but it had been constructed out of wood and – as a result – suffered greatly during a fire in the seventeen-sixties. The building standing here, now, could be said to be an entirely different one as a result.

The lodge had been, as I understood it, something of a vacation home for the Waynes of the time period. They'd lived in the city proper while the manor was rebuilt in stone as a result of their suddenly increased fortune made in supplying the revolutionaries and the new federal government.

I didn't see it at the moment, which probably meant it was somewhere in the woods nearby or located behind the main house out of the way of visitors.

Either way... it was impressive.

“I love the architecture... this is classic Gothic, isn't it?” Mom asked, and I blinked, startled out of my contemplation. “Ah... I can only imagine the upkeep of a place like this.”

“All I know is that it's got a full staff to keep everything clean, at least ever since Mister Wayne came back,” Marvin stated with a sigh. “Had to do a deep clean when he showed up. Mr. Pennyworth kept the lights on, but a lot of the rooms went disused for the better part of a decade. I got called in to make sure the motorpool was properly put back into commission, then ended up with a job as a driver and part-time mechanic.”

“Good job?” Dad asked as he fidgeted, trying to restrain himself from helping to unload the luggage. The dark-skinned man had waved him off twice, but Dad wasn't the kind of man who was comfortable with someone else doing work for him.

“Best I've had,” Marvin stated. “Pays well, time off. Hours are flexible. Occasionally odd hours when Mister Wayne takes up a new sport and needs to be dragged out of a parachute with a broken arm or something, but-”

“Telling tales, Mr. Marvin Thomas?” An uppercrust British accent asked, the question piercing and pointed.

“Only what they could read in the tabloids, Mister Pennyworth,” Marvin stated, completely unapologetic and grinning.

“Given the allowances Master Wayne has made and understanding that he considers such things amusing, I am barred from offering demerits. However, I will ask you to keep gossip to your off hours and, if you please, away from the master's guests,” he stated formally, the reprimand in his tone clear, even if it wasn't official.

Which I almost missed, because Alfred Pennyworth.

Like... holy shit.

I resisted the urge to squeal and roll about on the ground in excitement, but only barely.

“Of course, sir, I'll keep that in mind,” Marvin grinned again, still unrepentant.

“I'm sure,” Alfred stated, managing to pack in no little derision into those two words before turning to my family and giving a stiff bow. “Please, you must be the Villins. I am Alfred Pennyworth. I oversee the management of the properties and represent Master Wayne's interests when he is absent. This is, sadly, one such time. Important matters at the company required his attention-”

Sure, probably just a misplaced shipment and not an explosion down by the docks requiring the Batman.

“-even if he would have preferred to be here to greet you in person,” Alfred finished politely. “If you'll follow me, I'll show you to your rooms for the next two nights while you're our guests here. Please, in the absence of the master of the house, allow me to welcome you to Wayne Manor.”

“We're glad to be here,” Mom smiled, stepping up with a smile as my parents followed the butler into the house.

Addie bumped my side as Algie stood a few feet ahead looking around.

They're guarding me.

It was a sudden realization, the two of them standing sentry as they refused to follow mom and dad without me in tow. I sighed and took a few steps. “I'm not going to disappear, you know?”

“You ran off,” Addie snorted, her words soft against the chill wind blowing in from the forest. “Don't do that without telling me, dipshit.”

I clicked my tongue and looked away. “Sorry, wasn't thinking.”

“I know that,” Addie sighed, looking unhappy as we walked. “I already tore Jerkanon over there a new one for letting you go. I don't care if you can fly off. Don't. Not while we're not at home, at least.”

Right, the downside of being thirteen.

It still struck me as odd, sometimes... and it even made me angry occasionally, the lack of autonomy. I couldn't go where I wanted, I couldn't do as I pleased, and I couldn't decide what was appropriate for myself to watch or read.

You're six today! Eight! Ten! Twelve Thirteen, finally a teenager! Aren't you happy, Arden?

There was an old adage that, if someone told you something enough times, you'd eventually begin to believe it. It didn't matter what you knew, only what was real. And, for all intents and purposes, I was thirteen. In every way that mattered. I had to be thirteen, or else I'd go crazy, dammit.

It was an old irritation, a chafing sensation somewhere between the mind, body, and soul.

“I'll stay in or around Wayne Manor while we're here,” I replied eventually, coming closer to the entrance of the building. “No more running – or flying – off. Promise.”

Adelaide stared at me for a moment longer, then nodded. “Fine. I know you want to do the hero thing, but give it time. The more shit you pick up, the safe you'll be, the less I'll have to worry... and the longer I'll have before I start getting gray hair.”

I hummed and, thankfully, she let the conversation drop there.

Because I wasn't willing to promise more than staying inside Wayne Manor for this two-day trip. A protagonist's luck wasn't something I was willing to ignore. If I did, it would likely seek me out at home, in the house where my family lived. I think Algie was so quiet because he'd realized, at least a little, that I'd passed the point of no return in that way. Regardless of what the tickets in my pocket gave me next, I no longer had the luxury of deciding to seek out danger or ignore that calling.

Now, it would come to me.

At some point, Addie would get it.

And she'd probably be pissed as hell, too.

“Wotcha!” A young, rough voice called out above us, and I saw a young girl, my age, with dark hair and a wide smile. She was a bit shorter than me, though that wasn't a surprise. From what the news said, she'd lived a hard life on London's streets before a would-be supervillain had picked her up. I can't imagine either of those situations meant good dietary conditions for a growing child. “They finally here for the gay and hearty, Alfie?”

My parents looked to each other in confusion.

“Ahh... Miss AJ, if you would refrain from yelling in the house?” Alfred asked, heaving a great sigh as the girl grinned and trundled down the stairs. “And, please do refer to me by my full name, if you would?”

Anita Jean, this timeline's first adopted 'Bat Family' member.

Likely, too, the first Robin for this timeline as well.

Someone whom I knew nothing about.

“Sure Alfie, I gotcha!” AJ grinned, running up to us, then easily fixating on me. “Hey, you're Arden, right? Nice ta' meetcha! Wanna see what this cat 'n mouse's like fore I cop a flower pot and can’t show ya’round?”

I blinked at the eager girl, then mechanically turned my head towards the stoically-exasperated butler. “Mr. Pennyworth, sir? I gather this young lady wishes me to accompany her somewhere on the premises. Should I grant her request, am I to take it that I will return alive and in a single piece?”

AJ frowned at me, looking put out as Alfred...

The suited man coughed into his fist mightily before seeming to get himself under control.

AJ crossed her arms, narrowing her gaze at the older man. “You feelin' grue, there Alfie?”

Alfred coughed one final time before shaking his head. “I feel perfectly fine, Miss AJ, I assure you. To address your concerns though, Youngest Mr. Villin, you can rest assured that Miss AJ knows the areas of the manor which are forbidden to children and the punishments which she will face should she endeavor to drag you into them. Otherwise, she has had all of her shots, does not bite – often, and for a marvel, arrived to us capable of both American and the Queen's proper English, should she feel inclined to use either in place of her native cockney slang.”

Metaphorical lightbulbs went off in the expressions of my family. Algie snorted, Addie palmed her face, while Mom and Dad simply exchanged exasperated and amused looks respectively.

“It's alright for them to explore, then?” Mom pressed Alfred.

“The mansion is quite safe, I assure you, madam.” Alfred replied with a tight nod.

“Let Arden run off for a bit, Abigail,” Dad said, taking Mom's hand. “AJ can show him where his room is later, after dinner, and it'll be good for him to stretch his legs after being cooped up in a plane all afternoon.”

“...alright, fine,” Mom sighed, making a 'shoo' motion. “Go on, have fun.”

“Wizard!” AJ grinned, clasping my wrist and dragging me along down a hall.

...I forget, had I ever actually agreed to this? Eh, who am I kidding? I get to run around Wayne Manor, no way I'd refuse.

~~~

Little bit later than I wanted, but only by a few hours.

Arden's in Gotham, woo! He's also at Wayne Manor!

...and calming down a little bit, so he's realizing he screwed up a little bit with the curse.

I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. The Awesome-tier poll has another half-day or so on it, but it's looking like The Hand We're Dealt will get a chapter this month, which will be fun. I'm also going to see about an SAO chapter as well, since that's been a while.

Other than that... hope everyone's have a great weekend and thanks again for all the support!

Mind Games - Chapter 49

Kirishima blinked at his feed, staring at the phone in his hands with an open mouth, his jaw hanging free in disbelief.

“Why am I doing this? I'm a professional hero, I'm attending the most prestigious hero training academy in the country, and I regularly do talks on the occupational and philosophical quandaries of hero careers.”

It wasn't just the tone of his voice, that utterly uncharacteristic defeated whine in that familiar monotone drone. No, it was the image of his friend in his traditional streaming attire, mask and head-scarf and all, but topped with a blood-red apron dotted with small hearts.

A giggle came from off-screen.

“Boostrap-kun, you know why! You were very naughty and snuck out yesterday!”

The apron-clad hero's shoulder slumped and Kirishima had to smother a giggle as he pressed his lips tightly closed.

Ashido, sitting next to him and munching on her lunch, made a sound that was either repressed laughter or a dying animal's death throws as it was trapped in her throat.

“Carmilla, honey, I went to a conbini to buy a handful of korokke. I was trying to be considerate and not bother you to make me food.”

There was a noise of aggravation behind the camera. “Well you should have! That's what girlfriends are for! I'm not going to let my boyfriend eat konbini food when I could make him a nutritious meal!”

“This is amazing!” Ashido whispered next to him, utterly enthralled as the video continued.

“I know, right?” Kirishima giggled behind his hand.

Bootstrap – Hitoshi – hung his head and arms lifelessly as his normally-perfect posture sagged like a limp noodle. “I'd like it known to the general public that while I can make normal meals and feed myself, I – like most people – have moments of weakness where I decide to eat something that's empty calories, greasy, and objectively bad for me. Comfort food is an important and healthy part of human psychology. Bodily health and fitness dictates that you shouldn't let it control your eating habits, but every once and a while is okay.”

A much more good-tempered giggle was his reply. “But if you do, and your significant other is at your intended destination after your errand, make sure to bring them some, too! I like pork cutlets, just so you know, boyfriend!”

Hitoshi's dead-eyed stare bored into the camera. “I'll engrave that fact upon my very soul, babe.”

“So today, Bootstrap is doing a different kind of video! A stream covering how to eat healthy as a young hero on the go!” The female voice from off-screen rang out clearly.

The guy who'd handed Kirishima his ass multiple times in the sparring ring held up both hands and, sounding as though someone was pointing a gun at him just out of sight, waved them about in a mock-enthusiastic move. “Yaaa~aaay.”

Ashido lost it at that, rolling over onto the school roof in a fit of giggling laughter.

Kirishima wasn't far behind her.

“O-oh, that... that was incredible,” Mina stated, still giggling.

“The most insane thing is that the recipes work,” Kirishima grinned widely, showing off his teeth. “And ohmygods they're delicious. Like, I made one for my moms and the entire thing disappeared. Apparently, I'm on cooking duty now instead of doing the laundry.”

“Eeeee!” Mina squealed. “I know, right?! I tried that one with the miso paste and the grilled corn! Totes delish! And I swear I have more energy, even!”

“Hitoshi's probably going to be aggravated that he has to do more streams in the apron,” Kirishima snorted.

“He shouldn't be!” Mina asserted, crossing her arms and looking put out. “All the girls I've talked to have jumped him up, like... ten points because of that. There is basically no guy in this school who would put on an apron for his girlfriend. None.”

Kirishima cocked his head, wondering at his own response. On the one hand, it'd be super-manly to not care about what other people said...

...on the other, he was self-aware enough to know that taking the kind of verbal abuse he'd get from his classmates for doing something so 'girly' would be immense, should they ever find out about his part-time gig as Buster.

But...

'Just living a life with no regrets. That's what chivalry means to me!'

The words of Crimson Riot echoed in his mind.

Kirishima slapped his cheeks and manned the fuck up. “I'd do it! I'd wear a frilly apron for the person I loved!”

Mina blinked, staring up at her classmates as he took a heroic pose, holding one arm curled and showing off the bicep that was quite a bit bigger than it had been a few months ago. Raising her hands, she began clapping. “Woo! Go Kiri! Be the change you want to see!”

Eijiro ducked his head, blushing at the praise, and brought a hand back to scratch at his hair. “A-ah... sorry, got a bit worked up there.”

Mina shook her head, pink hair flying back and forth. “No way! No way! Kiri's best when he's doing the hot blood thing! That's the you you want to be, right?”

The teenager chuckled awkwardly and smiled, a softer expression than his usual 'manly grin.' “Y-yeah... actually, could I get your thoughts on something?”

Ashido blinked, then shrugged. “Sure, what's up?”

Kirishima hummed nervously, settling back into his seat and picking at his lunch. “Umm... I've been thinking about dying my hair, actually. I talked to my moms and Hitoshi about it – but, like, they're biased and all that. Not that I think they'd lie to me or anything! Just...”

He reached up and fingered his short black hair with a frown.

“I wanted a second opinion, I guess?” Kirishima asked, then looked over to his classmate as she studied him intently. Her usual exuberance and energy melted down and reforged into a knife-like focus of fashion and style.

“What color?” Mina asked, tapping at her chin as she leaned back and forth, trying to get a more complete view of his head. “Cause... I'd be cool with it if you go for something brighter? Not too bright, not like – heh – neon pink or anything!”

Kirishima choked on his lunch as Mina grinned.

“N-nah, I was thinking, well...” Eijiro paused, then grabbed his phone again and thumbed over from Hitoshi's latest video. “Something like... this.”

Ashido leaned in, pursing her lips as she stared at the image. “Huh. The style too, or just the color?”

“N-not like the full pompadour spike or anything,” Kirishima waved her off, “b-but... maybe more normal spikes? Like, gel?”

He brushed his hands off and combed them through his hair, pulling it up so that it stood on end as Ashido nodded thoughtfully. “Go for it.”

Kirishima blinked, letting his hair drop. “R-really?”

A pink hand came up, one thumb shooting skyward. “Really-really.”

Kirishima began to grin, then stopped, eyeing Mina with suspicion. “You watched that movie with the ogre, didn't you? The one on Hitoshi's list that he posted about the best movies ever, didn't you?”

Mina grinned unabashedly. “No idea what you're talking about.”

“It's so weird that this movie from hundreds of years ago is going viral 'cause my bro decided to mention it on our live stream,” Kirishima shook his head and looked over the side of the building, down into the courtyard, where he could see a few green 'ear-tenna' headbands being worn even now.

“But it's so warm and fuzzy,” Mina whined, wrapping herself in a hug and twisting in place with a longing sigh. “And it's all about this guy who basically has a heteromorphic quirk that people hate him for, even if he turns out to be a really nice guy! And then he gets the girl because he's a good guy and the girl decides to be a heteromorph! It's such an amazing love story!”

Eijiro snorted, but felt himself smiling. Yeah, despite being two hundred years old, Shrek was great. It'd made a lot of people take a second look at pre-quirk media even, and start thinking about how it worked with the world as it was today.

The sharp-toothed teen paused thoughtfully.

“Something wrong?” Mina asked, catching onto his silence after a moment.

“Just... I was freaking out about it when we went viral after we did that movie list and a lot of heteromorphs wrote in about specific titles really boosting their self-esteem,” Kirishima replied slowly, thinking out loud.

“I don't see the problem,” Mina stated, raising an eyebrow.

“It's not a problem,” Kirishima shook his head. “If anything, it's super-manly how much people liked Hitoshi's retro picks. It's just... I brought it up to him and he kinda just... put his feet up and chuckled about it? And he had this smile on his face, like-”

“Like he knew what he was doing all along and was proud of you for finally catching on?” Mina asked, nodding her head knowingly.

“You noticed?” Kirishima asked, perking up.

“Yeah, he mostly does it with Himi-chan,” Mina pointed out. “Since she can be a bit odd now and then and have a hard time with social cues. So I noticed during the second karaoke thing we did that he... kinda' signals her, I guess?”

“Oh... huh,” Kirishima squinted. “Guess he does, now that I think about it. And... that's the same smile, too.”

There was a moment of silence between them.

“So... you think he might've used a stream about your favorite movies to go viral and help reach out to a bunch of people with difficult quirks?” Mina asked eventually.

“I mean... when you say it like that...” Kirishima replied, rubbing at his chin. “But, would you put it past him?”

Mina scrunched up her face in thought, then tilted her head to the side. “Maaaa~aaaan, this is going to bug me now! Ugh, there's no way, though, right? I mean, Hitoshi's smart, but he's not, like... crazy shadow-government conspiracy smart.”

Another pregnant pause passed by.

“Right?” Mina asked, then frowned. “You know what? I'll ask his girl, she'll know!”

Kirishima blinked as his friend pulled out her phone and began to text. “Who, you and Toga got close quick, huh?”

Mina jerked, then blushed as she looked up from her phone. “A-ah... yeah. She's...”

Eijiro waited as Mina uncharacteristically groped for words, then something clicked and he chuckled, almost hunching over with laughter. “Oh! Oh, Hitoshi told me about his... we were kickin' it one day after a stream and just talking about stuff and he mentioned Toga was trying to set him up with, like, a mistress or something!”

Ashido ducked her head and blushed, releasing a long embarrassed huff of air. “Ahhh! It's weird, right?! Tell me it's weird so I can stop thinking about it!”

Kirishima snickered, shaking his head. “Man, Hitoshi's girlfriend must have really got under your skin if it's bothering you that much. Want me to ask him to call her off?”

The pink pinkette sighed explosively. “No, it's... it's okay. Hitoshi called her off on his own, apparently. Toga said he was lining up a girl on his own and she had to 'vet her' now.”

Kirishima frowned, popping more of his lunch into his mouth. “You know... I think I kind of dodged a bullet.”

“What, crushing on Shinso like you were?” Ashido asked, taking a moment to eat a bit of her own food.

“Ack-wha!?” Eijiro coughed, pounding his chest as his face flushed. “Wh-what?! I mean – what?!”

Ashido blinked, staring at the boy blankly, then released an 'ah' of realization. “Oooh... honey... you thought no one knew?”

“Eep!” Kirishima squeaked, the sound imminently manly and proud, his face not at all going nuclear.

“Sweetie,” Mina shook her head, putting a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. “I'm sorry... but you were kind of obvious.”

Kirishima groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Dammit.”

“But... yeah, kind of agree with you? Probably dodged a bullet,” Mina nodded. “I mean, don't get me wrong... Shinso and Toga are like... super cute together. But it's this kind of weird cute where it's like... 'I'm totes glad they found each other, because at least one of them was going to go psycho and leave a body count without the other.'”

Eijiro snorted, chuckling as the statement set in. “Heh... which one, you think?”

Ashido hummed thoughtfully, then shrugged and waggled a hand. “Fifty-fifty. Himi-chan's got those crazy eyes, but I'm not sure Shinso's expression would change if he crushed a man's head into pulp under his boot, you know?”

“Okay, so... funny, but totally not manly,” Kirishima replied.

“Just calling it as I see it,” Ashido replied bluntly, then softened. “Though, it was sweet of him to try and set us up together.”

“Yeah... I mean, no offense, but...” Kirishima looked away awkwardly.

“We're better as friends,” Mina nodded, “which is actually super cool because I have zero guy-friends who don't hit on me besides you.”

“Oh, uhh... I mean, I get it. You're really attractive,” Kirishima stated blushingly, “but it's not manly at all to try and get with someone who doesn't want to.”

“Thanks, you're sweet,” Ashido giggled, sighing as she ate the last bit of her lunch. “But honestly? Flirting's fun. It just gets on my nerves when guys expect that something will definitely – one-hundred-percent – come after the flirting and stop putting any effort into the conversation or the date or whatevs. And then, if a girl does put out, it's like that guy and all their friends think she's a sure thing the second time around, too! Ugh!”

“Whoa... that sucks,” Kirishima stated, blinking, before shaking himself and stuffing the last bit of his own lunch in his mouth.

“It's honestly why I usually hit up a girl if I want to make out or something,” Mina sighed, shaking her head. “But that's its own bag of issues.”

“Mmm... not really into that kind of thing,” Eijiro stated awkwardly. “I'm more... well, I want someone...”

“Commitment,” Mina stated with an evil grin. “C'mon, saaa~aaay it. I promise it won't hurt. You want someone who'll be there when you get home and you can cuddle on the couch with, not a hot date. Co-Mit-Ment!”

Kirishima inhaled deeply, nodding as he puffed himself up. “I-I want a committed relationship!”

“See, that wasn't so hard,” Mina grinned, crossing her arms over her chest. “But it's why we won't mesh. I like the variety pack, you want a romance for the ages.”

“I guess... though, is that why you're thinking about Toga's offer?” Kirishima asked curiously as he began to put away his bento. “N-not that it's my business or anything, but-”

“Nah, it's okay,” Mina shrugged, though her blush gave lie to at least part of her casual attitude. “Umm... kinda? I mean, Toga and Shinso are cute together and I do want me some of that, but... there's some other personal biz that makes it tempting.”

“Cool,” Kirishima nodded, then paused. “I'll probably wait until high school to start dating, all things considered. A lot of the stuff Hitoshi's talked about with hero-relationships and how busy things can get...”

“That boy is spooky good at giving relationship advice,” Ashido nodded, frowning slightly. “But, if you do decide that you want an emotionally-unhealthy hookup, you've got my number and I can find you someone who'd jump at the chance.”

Kirishima snorted. “Thanks, but... I'm starting to wonder how Hitoshi does it. I've just started at my internship and it already feels like I'm juggling a dozen plates. I've got like... no time to go on dates, even if I wanted to.”

“Any hotties around the office? I know Sir Nighteye – omgsojelly! – is just having you do paperwork right now, but you pick up any coworker numbers?” Mina asked.

“Well, the local staff is just Sir Nighteye, Centipeder, and Bubble Girl. She's the one that's been training me, actually. Awata-senpai is actually in her last year of UA and about to graduate to full-time sidekick for the agency, so she's been super-cool about helping me land on my feet with everything,” Kirishima stated proudly.

“One sec,” Mina stated, pulling out her phone again and hitting a few keys, then staring at the screen. “Okay, total baddie – would smash. Smash like All Might the other week when he hurricane-punched that yakuza guy.”

Kirishima blushed. “Ashido! That's my coworker! Don't say that! I'll never get it out of my head, now!”

Mina just cackled in response.

…

“And attempted kidnapping of a student from a hero feeder school is a serious matter,” General Adanai of the Japanese Army stated. “But I'm far more concerned with... you say this isn't just some heteromorph with an unfortunate quirk?”

“My analysts don't believe so, no,” Nezu shook his head over the video conference screen. “Most telling are the... visceral reactions of young Ingenium and Mirko.”

“Speaking of, I'd like to request the relevant parts be replayed so that they can be entered into the meeting's record,” Yotsubashi stated, clearing his throat.

“I'll second the motion,” Prime Minister Moku stated. “It will also serve to reinforce the nature of the revelations concerning the... particulars of the incident.”

“I think we'll skip the formalities and simply move forward with the viewing,” Director Mera stated, sighing tiredly as he queued up the footage.

The various officials of the Hero Public Safety Commission all watched as the clips began.

“-which is when I followed the vigilante Perspicacious Mauve Avenger onto the scene of the kidnapping in-progress.”

The interviewer hummed, nodding as they made notes from the hero's statement. “And your first reaction? You asked-”

“What is that thing?” Ingenium nodded, quoting himself. “Although it appears shameful to accuse a heteromorphic individual of being a 'thing,' in the heat of the moment... I felt an intense revulsion towards the crea-ah, being. I couldn't explain it in that instance, nor can I explain it now, but... it felt as if the whole of my being rejected its existence.”

“I see, then next we'll-”

There was a break, the screen cutting to black for a second.

“-don't care about your bullshit!” Mirko spat, looming over the sweating interviewer. “You see these ears? You think I don't know what it's like for people to think all I'm good for is one thing?! Well, cocksucker, guess what? I do, and that means I get to talk shit about this fucking thing-”

The metal table between the two individuals groaned as Mirko brought her fist down on the images of the assailant.

“So miss me with that shit about being 'sensitive to the terminology' or whatever. That thing that tried to take the kid wasn't human and the bitch on the motorcycle had the right idea shooting it full of lead to slow it down long enough for the big guns to arrive!”

Another moment of blackness before the various faces of the HPSC council flickered back into place.

“So both heroes are supportive of this vigilante's actions towards the... creature?” General Adanai asked, his tone neutral.

“Indeed,” Nezu nodded. “Despite the seeming recklessness she displayed towards discharging a very large caliber firearm in a civilian residential area, her impeccable aim and the nature of the threat lend to the idea that she knew exactly what she was dealing with.”

“And we don't,” Yotsubashi hummed thoughtfully, stroking his chin.

“Other than indications from the creature's blood and bone fragments left in the wake of its escape, no. We have no firm answers,” Mera replied, shaking his head.

“I think I speak for all of us when I say that's not acceptable,” a heretofore silent party spoke up as they leaned back and crossed their legs. His face was nondescript and bland, befitting the Metahuman Intelligence Agency's liaison officer. “Especially given that the evidence we do have points to a creature which possesses multiple quirks and is reminiscent of something coming out of the Korean Zone or the worst parts of the Second Chinese Civil War.”

A number of the attendees shifted uneasily at the reminder.

“So what does the agency suggest?” Nezu asked, one of the few who was completely unmoved by the mention of the events which had birthed him.

“We need to bring in this vigilante,” he replied bluntly. “This... Perspicacious Mauve Avenger. It's blatantly obvious she knows more than she's let on, especially with the information she's disclosed.”

“To clarify... are we speaking of a public-facing warrant, or...” Yotsubashi asked leadingly.

“Whatever gets the job done,” the intelligence agent replied bluntly. “We've just crawled out of the Dark Ages. I don't need that monster dragging us back into them. If she's willing to work with us for a clean slate, a hero license, and a penthouse apartment – fine. We go that route. If not, we put pressure on her.”

There were murmurs of both agreement and dissent.

“I'll put together a proposal,” Director Mera offered, “to be ratified by the full council. This will be a potential A-Rank intelligence asset underground hero we're trying to bring into the fold. As such, it will require a super-majority of approval on the heal-face protocol we're enacting.”

“And if she doesn't bite? How specifically will we move forward?” Adanai asked. “I can have Nagant and Sonae ready to go at a moment's notice.”

“I think that's a bit premature,” Nezu commented, drumming his paws on the desk in front of him. “As the member of the council who has had the most interaction with her, should our initial gambit prove unsuccessful, I'd like clearance to draw her in more subtly.”

A few frowns were exchanged as whispers of discontent made their rounds.

“I'll second that motion,” the Prime Minister stated, bringing a halt to the quiet discussion. “I'm giving you enough rope, Principal Nezu. We'll see what you're able to do with it.”

“I'll be sure to brush up on my knot-tying skills, then,” Nezu replied with a grin.

“Political games aside,” the intelligence agent interjected. “The highest priority is on putting her information and resources in our hands. We need to know what she knows, preferably as soon as possible. While we're still digesting this data, and it will take time for us to map out a course of action, the more we know the less likely we'll be to fall into another one of his traps.”

“I'll be sure she's made aware of the stakes at play,” Nezu nodded more seriously.

~~~

Not quite the Nezu Interlude some people wanted, but... this should cast some light on how things are going behind the scenes.

After, at least, you get past Mina and Kirishima being wholesome buddies.

I had... perhaps a bit too much fun with them just hanging out and vibing during a school lunch.

Hope everyone else enjoys it as much as I did, and thank you again for all your support! Especially going into the new year!

Next up is going to be Butler Boy, although I'm going to try and sneak in an extra bit to Ch. 47 of Mind Games with an expanded NSFW scene. I'll let people know to check that out if I manage it.

Paldean Knights - Chapter 5

“Today's the day,” I hummed to myself, slipping on the incubator as I bounced slightly, my energy abnormally high.

No secret as to why.

“Okay, I think Your Highness is done,” Alice stated, looking me over with a piercing gaze. Stantler, wearing his saddlebags, was crouched behind her, vaguely amused. “You're ready to go, sire.”

“Thank you Alice,” I smiled at the maid, taking a step past her. “I'll leave you to it, then?”

“Yes sire,” she nodded, turning the motion into a small bow.

I paused... “You know you can tell me if you need a day off or anything, right? I'll make it happen for you.”

Alice blinked, jerking slightly in surprise as her eyes widened. “A-ah... did I say something? No... did someone else?”

“Just a feeling,” I replied.

She pursed her lips for a moment, then nodded. “I'll let Your Highness know when my family's plans firm up, thank you.”

“Alright then. My schedule might change in a month when the Academy starts up, I'll let you know the specifics. I might need outfits prepped weekly instead of daily,” I cautioned her. “Since I don't know how frequently I'll be able to return to the palace.”

She smiled at me and nodded. “I'll be sure to liaise with your mother over the matter. Now, don't make yourself late, sire.”

“Right, right,” I nodded, picking up the incubator and my bag. I had to admit, I never really expected one of those crazy bullshit 'bigger on the inside' bags to actually exist... and I'd even looked into how they were made. The math was way over my head, but it was awesome to have a Bag of Holding, no lie.

With that... I turned the opposite way I should have gone, gave a cordial nod to my aunt lingering in one of the many 'painting rooms,' and stopped at a small library – well, reading room – before seeking out one of the shelves. “Hmm... right here.”

One of the panels flipped outwards with a firm pull, allowing me into the darkened area beyond.

Or, it would have been dark...

“Litwick!” “Litwick! “Litwick!”

“Sorry, sorry!” I held up my hands with a smile as I stepped into the space and pulled out berries. “I didn't mean to interrupt... oh, you're playing a game. Here's a snack and I'll be on my way.”

The tiny candle-ghosts perked up as I handed out berries, looking away from one of the boardgames they'd 'borrowed' from the reading room to stare at me with their glowing yellow eyes. I chuckled and gave them a bit of attention as they milled about, waiting for the hidden door to close properly behind me so I could reset the switch.

“Li-li-wick.”

I blinked, my eyes growing used to the faint illumination. “Oh? No, I'm just headed to the big reception room downstairs.”

“Wick-wick!”

“Something's stirred up the catacombs?” I frowned, looking at the hallway I wasn't taking. “Okay, I'll be sure to avoid that area for a while.”

...and that's why it pays to be on good terms with the local 'mon.

I hummed, idly staring down the labyrinthine path I knew would take me down to the catacombs. Part of me wanted to investigate, or at least ask the litwicks for details, but... I had an appointment to keep.

I took the other path-

whi-whe-woo!

-I stopped, turning back to the catacomb's path. “That... isn't a pokemon call I recognize. Dammit... ugh, I'm going to have to look into this later, aren't I?”

Shaking my head, I turned and resolutely headed towards the reception room.

Thankfully, this secret corridor was fairly clean given the amount of pokemon traffic it saw. In addition to the ghosts that populated most of the castle's forgotten secret passages, there were also a number of other types that made the areas their homes. One of the other big groups, in fact, was bug types.

Which was incredibly beneficial and... also a little dangerous.

“Knock, knock... it's just Aznaro passing through,” I called out, rapping my ring against the stone wall as I carefully stepped over the lines of webbing strung at ground level.

“Spin!”

“Ah, yeah... I'm prepared to pay the toll,” I nodded, pulling out yet more berries and dropping them in the tiny spider's net. “So... ariados in a good mood today?”

I hoped she was, at least.

The spinarak cocked its head, then dipped it once, and I heaved a sigh of relief.

Pokemon, at their core, were friendly.

Except when you stumbled into their homes.

And they had young they were looking after.

Let's just say... the local spider queen and I hadn't exactly gotten off on the right foot, and she had a long memory.

Normally, it was the custom of the Paldea region – most of it at least – to remove a pokemon who had threatened a human from the area and resettle them. On the flipside, though, the colony of spiders peacefully coexisted with the ghosts and kept the palace-castle almost entirely free of rats, mice, roaches, and other small pests. There was an entire ecosystem behind the castle walls that I didn't need to tamper with just because I'd wandered around unaware of my surroundings.

Also, spinarak and ariados weren't actually native to the region, so relocating them would be taxing on the small group of bugs.

How'd they get here? Honestly, I wasn't sure. My money was on one of my ancestors capturing one a few generations back and these being the descendants. We had one or two bug fanatics in the family tree that I could recall.

“Ari!”

I winced, forcing myself to relax. “Lady ariados.”

The extremely large spider dipped down from the ceiling, its gaze locked on me... and the spinarak. The spider mom hissed at her young, who dragged its bounty of berries off in the tiny net-bag. Then, she glared at me again... and turned away.

“Thenk you for safe passage,” I stated, giving her a small bow, the spider giving a huff of air.

Recognizing a dismissal for what it was, I carefully picked my way through the next ten feet of web-strewn hallway before finding the door I needed.

“Honestly, where is that boy? It's five minutes til and he knows I expect him to be early for these appointments!” Mother sighed as I quietly slid the rear of the coat closet shut and shifted through the hanging clothes to get to the door.

“You know how the boy is, Dear. He does love to appear out of nowhere,” Father said with a carefree tone, my sister giggling in the background.

I flipped up the peephole in the door and scanned the room.

Good, Father was entertaining Lehonor on the chaise lounge... and Mother was pacing by the door. That meant neither of them had easy line of sight for the closet I'd come out in. Of course, that was by design. The closet door, in fact, was covered in intricate wooden engravings of sudowoodo – a relatively rare 'mon for Paldea, to camouflage it against the rest of the wall. I'd wager that neither of my parents consciously remembered this closet existed most days.

I slid the door open softly, having oiled the hinges a few months prior myself, and took a few careful steps into the room, approaching hidden by the large sofa chair.

“If big brother doesn't show up, can I get his pokemon instead?” Lehonor asked.

I smirked and slipped into the overstuffed chair, flipping out a book to a random page and crossing my legs. “Are we waiting for someone?”

Father stiffened, Mother squealed before she could catch herself, and my little sister simply jerked around to stare at me in wonder.

“Aznaro!” Lehonor cried. “You're late!”

“Really?” I asked, frowning as I pulled out my pocket watch and looked at it. “But I've been here for five minutes?”

There was a beat of silence as my mother took a shuddering breath and my father, put a hand over his face, his shoulders quietly shaking.

“Why didn't you say anything!?” Lehonor asked, pouting.

“I'd just gotten to the good part of the chapter,” I raised my prop up, finger tucked between the pages, as if to save the spot I'd stopped at.

“Be that as it may...” Mother took another breath and motioned to me. “Stand up, I want to see how you look.”

I obliged her, even going so far as to slip in a bookmark into the book I'd brought along. For what it was worth, I did intend on reading it at some point, as dry as the treatise on multi-type pokemon energy was.

Mother sighed and picked at my clothing, raising an eyebrow at a small white thread, but flicking it into the trash without comment. “Very well, I can see Alice got you into something decent. Hmm... now, you've made your decision about your starter? Director Harrington's time is valuable, I don't want you wasting it dilly-dallying.”

“I have made my choice, Mother,” I nodded firmly. “I won't drag things out.”

“Good,” she sighed, moving in for a brief hug, her citrus perfume thick as I embraced her. “Mhm... I thought we'd have a few more years before you went off to school. But you're a smart boy, and I suppose it's better than having you creeping around the castle scaring the daylights out of me.”

I chuckled slightly, reaching up to wipe at my eyes. “I'll be home every weekend, if not more often.”

“Oh?” She asked, pulling back with a slightly amused expression. “How do you think you'll manage that? The academies are in Mesagoza. That might not be on the other side of the region, but unless you're planning on chartering travel, it'll be a few day's journey.”

I nodded, conceding the point. Travel in the Paldea region was... well, it wasn't difficult, like getting to Galar or Kalos... or, Arceus forbid, Unova, but it wasn't the easiest thing in the world, either. It just wasn't a priority for most towns or cities within the region to invest in infrastructure connecting population centers.

We liked our neighbors where they were, thank you very much, and didn't enjoy them visiting more often than they already did.

It was one thing if you were moving as part of the royal family, in a convoy with guards and knights. We'd done that to get to the party in Levincia, which pretty neatly cut through the mess that was the rural parts of Area Two. Given the palace was on the outskirts of Artazon, we'd made the journey in a matter of hours.

Mesagoza, though? That was a bigger ask, especially if I was traveling alone.

“Well, ride pokemon exist,” I pointed out, “and if my egg really is psychic like Gym Leader Tulip thinks, I'll have access to a pokemon with teleport. But I could easily just get a powerful, fast flier, too.”

Father cleared his throat, looking pensive. “We'll see what Lyra thinks. I'm not sure I like you out on your own like that.”

I frowned slightly, opening my mouth to argue my point, but-

“Director Harrington has arrived,” the head butler, a man named Aio, spoke up quietly, his voice nonetheless carrying as he rapped his gloved knuckles quietly on the door. He was standing in the open doorway, his black head of hair dipped in a slight bow. “He's brought along a guest, Prince Enrique. An ace trainer student.”

There was slight judgment in the man's voice, a dislike of a guest presuming to invite someone along. Aio was a stodgy traditionalist – it's why he'd gotten the job in the first place – and looked down on any breach of protocol, no matter how minor.

“That's fine, Aio,” my father replied, very obviously trying not to roll his eyes at how stiff the other man was. “Show them in.”

“Of course, My Prince,” he replied, only a slight downturn of the man's lips denoting his disapproval of the decision as he moved off.

“Up we go,” Father murmured, lifting Lehonor off his lap with only a bit of complaint from the girl as he stood and adjusted his clothes.

My sister, meanwhile, slipped over to me and took my left hand in hers as she stood posture-perfect in preparation for our visitors. She leaned in and began whispering. “I can't believe you're getting a pokemon so early.”

I hummed, nodded, and replied at the same volume. “I'm a bit surprised too. They don't usually like to bend the rules like this.”

Not 'they,' as in the school, of course. They'd have given me a starter when I was five with an almost pathetic eagerness, if what I'd seen of Harrington was true to form. No, 'they' in this context meant our parents – and grandparents – who preferred that the royal family 'set an example.'

In other words, they didn't want us to get our pokemon early and have an advantage over the lower classes who would just be getting one as they entered the academies.

Harrington walked in, dressed as well as could be expected in a nice suit, slick hair, and altogether very presentable appearance. Even with his graying hair, he was still able to maintain some vitality and youth in his stride and posture, though the thick-rimmed glasses didn't do him many favors in my opinion. The mustache, too... bigger than a toothbrush, what was that style called? Chevron? Or lampshade? Something like that. Overall, he had the look of a professional attending a formal event. Not the worst, but he'd always be something of a subordinate to the real powers of the region.

With a young teen girl in tow.

The Uva Academy uniform had a few different styles, and she was wearing the most formal one. A full, female-cut frock coat in dark gray with a yellow vest underneath it. Past that was a violet tie that matched the violet pants – odd, no skirt? - and a white shirt as the base layer. The only thing that could be considered at all 'out of place' were the strands of hair she'd dyed green, standing out against both the rest of her black hair and her tanned skin.

Her head was held high, her arms folded behind her, and her posture almost military-formal.

-ughwhydoIhavetobehere?couldn'tharringtonhavegottensomeoneelse?Idon'twanttoputupwithanotherstuckupprinceling-

“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” Harrington smiled. “As promised, I am here to present your son with his choice of the current Paldean starters. I've also brought along one of my highest-performing students, an ace trainer who ranked in the top four in this past year's conference.”

I blinked, recalling her in that instant.

“May I present Nemona Torres,” Harrington offered, folding one arm across his waist as he bowed again.

“Oh, you're Marquess David Torres' daughter, aren't you?” Father asked, smiling as he stepped forward to shake hands. “It's a pleasure to meet you, I've heard impressive things about you from him.”

Her smile was good, even if it was fake. I don't think my father even noticed, which was impressive. “Thank you, Your Highness. I'm glad you think so.”

“I liked your battle with the Aqua Tauros,” I complimented with a nod, making her blink in surprise. “Your use of tactics and strategy was excellent, especially your application of ice and electric moves to augment the terrain changes you implemented.”

A hint of surprise broke through her facade. “A-ah, thank you... um, Prince Aznaro, wasn't it?”

I nodded. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Torres.”

She flushed slightly with an awkward smile. “Please, I'd feel like I'm putting on airs if I allow you to refer to me by my family name while I refer to you by your given.”

“Lady Nemona, then?” I asked politely, dipping to offer the barest brush of my lips on the back of her hand.

A feeling of exasperation, vague disgust with the tediousness of the situation... and pleasant surprise that I appeared to be sincere.

It's mildly surprising that she can read me that well, but... she is an ace trainer. Perhaps not that surprising.

“As I'm normally quite busy during the school year, I'd hoped to introduce Nemona here as a point of contact between yourself, Prince Aznaro, and the administration. At least until you find your feed at Uva Academy, of course.” Harrington explained. “She has a good grasp of the school's facilities, personnel, and is a skilled battler in the event you either need advice or another layer of protection – though the Academy grounds are well patrolled, one can never be too secure.”

“Thoughtful of you,” my father complimented. “Now, Aznaro says he's made up his mind as far as his starter goes...”

“Sprigatito,” I replied, making all the adults in the room jerk slightly.

“Really?” Mother asked, frowning. “I was sure you'd go for fuecoco? He evolves into a secondary ghost-type, you know?”

I nodded again, “I have plenty of options for ghost types. I'd rather my starter be something else. I don't want to be a mono-type trainer.”

Mother and Father exchanged looks of appreciation, then smiled at each other. The older man's hand landed on my shoulder. “I think that's a great idea, son. Specialists are all well and good, but having a bit of variety can strengthen a team.”

From Harrington, though...

-isnotgoodhewassupposedtotakethefiretypedammittheonlysprigatitoIhaveiwthmeis-

The Director cleared his throat, breaking my already-tenuous concentration before I could get more. There were too many people in such close proximity to me, and I was already pushing myself to read so deeply with people I hadn't attuned myself to properly.

“V-very well...” Harrington stated, reaching into his pocket and removing a pokeball. “Here you are, Your Highness.”

I smiled and accepted the ball. “Sprigatito, I choose you!”

A flick of my wrist and the ball opened.

Out came a small green kitten.

Now... listen. Normally, I'm a charmander guy. Cyndaquil. Torchic, even. Fire types are my go-to in terms of starters. But there are a few exceptions. Even if I'd never really played the games, I liked the grass type Alola starter, for instance. I was a weeb at heart, after all, and flying owl ninja was some peek weebery.

Sprigatito, though...

Meowscarada, the final evolution, is a Mardi Gras themed, phantom thief, cat-girl.

Fire crocodile is cool and all, especially with ghost typing thrown in, but considering all that? I just couldn't not pick the cat.

“Meow?” The small green creature asked, its red eyes alighting on me curiously as it cocked its head.

I smiled and took a knee, extending my hand. “I'm Aznaro. Your trainer. If you'll have me.”

“Mrow?” It smiled, then bounded up my arm and nuzzled my face. “Meow!”

“Well, it seems like she likes you,” Harrington sighed, a mixture of relief and trepidation coating his emotions. Were we in private, I would have pried further, but...

“Aww... can't I have a pokemon, too?” Lehonor asked plaintively, looking longingly at the cat on my shoulder, her eyes wide and adorable.

“Not for a few years, dear,” Mother sighed, combing my sister's hair affectionately.

I hummed. “You know... having a pokemon of her own would make her safer.”

Father raised a hand to his chin as Mother gave me a look. Lehonor, however, perked up and smiled widely.

“Please, please, please...” She asked desperately.

“Not a starter,” Mother stated bluntly, then sighed. “But... your Father and I will talk about it. Aznaro makes a good point, given what happened at the party last week.”

“Yes!” Lehonor cried, throwing up her hands and bouncing.

“Mow?” Sprigatito asked from... her place sitting on my shoulder. She blinked as she felt me flex against her, then relaxed as I fed her a thread of calm reassurance. A proper bond would take time, but this much was easy, especially with close physical contact.

“Don't worry about it,” I smiled, reaching up to give her a caress.

“You're already bonding with her,” Nemono noted, her eyes narrowed as she hummed, then rapidly turned to Harrington. “Sir, I request to take a starter this year as well. I'd like to train a second team, I think it'll be good for my development as a trainer and allow me to better engage with the prince!”

I blinked, looking to sprigatito.

Her gaze was just as clueless as mine.

~~~

Surprise!

Yeah, haven't had much good pokemon stuff to read lately, so I decided to do it myself.

Here's something to tide people over for the weekend, I'll get started on the next update tomorrow. Probably, looking at the votes, going to be more Mind Games or Butler Boy.

Barring a last minute upset, at least.

Hope everyone's enjoying the last bit of the holidays, and thank you again for all of your support! Especially as we go into the new year!

January Favoritism!

It's 2026!

I really hope this year takes it a bit easier than the last... not much faith that'll actually happen, but I can hope.

Okay! Back to the usual shenanigans. Popularity voting is in effect. Pick the project you want most, vote for it, and we'll see what gets the most attention this month. Upper tiers get an extra vote, so there's that, too. Make sure you cast both votes for your favorite(s) if you up there.

Past that... not much to say. Happy New Year and I hope everyone's chilling and not too hung over.

Industrious - Chapter 68

“Is something wrong?” Tenten asked, curled up against me.

I opened my mouth to reply and... hesitated.

Which any ninja worth their salt would have noticed, and I'd personally trained Tenten to be far better than the price of a few bags of salt. She was worth at least that amount in premium artisinal sea salt.

“Well, you're smiling, so it can't be all that bad,” she hummed, flexing her neck as she pulled a hand through her long, unbound hair.

I took a breath and stretched slightly against her. “I'm not sure... I've just... been feeling unsettled today.”

A dark eyebrow rose upwards. “Unsettled?”

I grunted with a short nod. “Don't know of a better way to put it.”

And that was the damndest thing... I just didn't. “Like something's... calling me, almost.”

Tenten frowned now, her eyebrows bunching together in confusion. “Literally? Or... what was that word you liked? Metaphysically?”

I nodded again. “Yeah, that. It's like... something's pulling on my chakra, but not really. Not draining it or anything like that.”

My girl sighed in relief, a short pulse of alarm having torn through her as she settled back down against me, her body pressed to mine. “Is it... could it be Kokoro?”

I shook my head. “No. There's a bond between us, that's true, but I've got that one closely monitored with an array of seals and countermeasures.”

“Right, right... I forget with how good-natured you are sometimes,” Tenten chuckled.

“What, that I'm not a complete idiot?” I asked with a smirk.

She snorted, leaning forward and kissing me. “Pretty much, yeah.”

I returned the gesture briefly, wrapping an arm around her and about to escalate things as our tongues invaded each other's mouths, then-

Thrum

I cursed, pulling away as I looked around.

Tenten blinked, her hand going for a kunai under the pillow as I felt the telltale signs of adrenaline flowing through her. Her brown eyes swept the room, finding – just as I did – nothing amiss. When she spoke, it was in a low tone with sharp tension. “What is it?”

“That feeling intensified,” I stated, sitting up and curling my legs underneath me. I chewed on the... tug that I'd felt.

Thrum

I jerked slightly.

“Kotaro?” Tenten asked, real worry coating her face. “S-should I get someone? The hospital? ANBU? Satsuki's brother?”

I clenched my jaw and tapped a tiny tattoo on the inside of my knee, something that could have easily been mistaken for a birthmark or small scar. It'd even pass close notice of a sensor – I'd checked – due to the shielding seal around it. Out popped a small metal tag, which had yet more sealing on it. “I'm going to activate this. ANBU will be inbound in a moment, don't make aggressive moves.”

Tenten nodded, pulling herself away and tying the sheet around herself while I grabbed for my underpants. A little modesty was better than nothing.

Then-

Thrum!

I jerked, my hand clenching around the metal tracking tag as I activated it.

“Kotaro!” Tenten cried as I fell back onto the bed, my eyes wide and clutching at my chest. “What's happening?!”

“Something... pulling... feeling like...” I gasped, forcing myself to draw in air while I felt my control over my body slipping. My eyes shot even wider as I realized what was happening. I'd performed the technique a few times, but I'd never been on this side of it.

“Summoning!” I cried, jerking again as I felt another tug on my soul.

“Someone's summoning you!?” Tenten asked, and I distantly felt shadows appear in the room. “Kota, what's going on!?”

“-he's secure-”

“-move him-”

“-calling in Lady Rin-”

“-Kota!”

I gasped again and felt my soul... stretch.

My spirit hadn't been pulled from my body, I realized through the disorienting haze of transmigration and vague in-between spaces that passed me by as I moved. No, it wasn't as though I'd been killed or even had my soul removed like I speculated that the Jashin cultists could do.

Instead, the connective tissue that bound me to my physical body was... loosening and elongating.

It was an intensely strange feeling as my conscious spirit-mind's connection to my body was dimmed to the point of irrelevance. I could tell it was still there, yes, but it was an incredibly distant sensation at the far back of my mind.

But the majority of my attention was taken up by the thing I was moving through...

Two cosmic faces shifted in the infinite-

-oh shit, that's a lot of fire.

Thankfully, I wasn't going directly into it, but... I was on a trajectory far too close for my liking. A giant, infinitely-deep ring of fire, death, and pain. It was like a gaping maw yawning open to consume everything and anything... and I was destined for the sliver of reality right next to it. The edge of a cliff that dropped straight into the mouth of hell.

Around me streaked souls and powers of all sorts, a rainbow of energy slamming towards the world below us.

Then, we hit-

…

“So we're on our own?” Cally asked with a sigh, running a hand through her blond hair in exasperation.

“Yeah, Mom's apparently trapped at the gallery for most of the night,” Dawn nodded, pulling self-consciously at one of the long braids of newly-dyed black hair on either side of her head. “Ugh, does this really look alright? Hawthorn?”

The redhead blinked, looking up from his book and adjusting his glasses. “Looks fine. You're Wednesday, right? You really nailed it.”

“It's at least more original than a witch,” Dawn shrugged, staring into her mirror again with a grumpy frown. “I can't believe Buffy got tied down for the night! She was supposed to be the fallback since Mom couldn't take us out!”

“Eh, from what I hear, the VP at the high school really has it out for her, Xander, and Willow,” Cally shrugged. “Like... so many of the kids who've gone over their say he's a complete douche. The kind of guy who got bullied when he went there and now lives to make everyone else's lives miserable, too.”

Hawthorn blinked and looked over to the blond girl, but didn't let his gaze linger too long. She was wearing a set of extremely short... shorts made of cargo material that clung high on her waist, leaving little to the imagination. Her top wasn't any better, a clingy piece of gray-blue fabric with no sleeves or collar that kept riding up to expose her stomach. Combined with the military-style boots and the thick belt with faux-holsters and water pistols spray-painted black...

Well, she certainly looked the part for her costume.

“Have you been watching Hallmark movies again?” Dawn asked tiredly, looking exasperated with their mutual friend.

Which was enough of a jolt to knock him free from his attempted short glance at Calliope's outfit... which hadn't been all that short.

“It's all Mom has on the TV, since-” Cally turned her head, expression suddenly blank. “Jesse.”

Hawthrone felt his budding libido take a nosedive with that name, looking awkwardly away as well.

“A-are you sure you don't want to just stay in and watch a horror movie?” Dawn asked awkwardly. “L-like you did with him?”

Cally paused, then shook her head, short-cropped blond hair swaying with the motion. “No. T-that was... it was our thing. Sometimes with Xander, but... it wouldn't feel right without him there. Besides, we'll be too old for this in a few years, right? Better enjoy it while it lasts.”

Hawthorn sighed. “I mean, I'd be happy just reading through this set of Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark that my sister gave me.”

He held up the book in question.

“Does Willow usually go out?” Dawn asked suddenly, frowning as she looked between Hawthorn and Cally.

They looked at each other and shrugged.

Hawthorn hummed. “Only when Xander and J-Jesse were going places. I usually came along to keep Cally company. Sometimes they'd do a few hours of candy-begging before we called it a night. Usually when it gets dark.”

“Yeah... still don't get that,” Dawn clicked her tongue as she adjusted the stark black and white dress she was wearing. Iconic, in Hawthorn's opinion, but much less exciting than Cally's outfit. “This entire place shuts down when the sun sets except for like... half a dozen places. What's up with that? When we lived in LA there were 24/7 stores open every other block, it felt like.”

Hawthorn traded a look with Cally.

“Would you two stop doing that!” Dawn snapped, then sighed at Cally's cringe and Hawthorn's grimace. “Sorry! Sorry... I'm just tired of there being... it's like there's something no one wants to talk about in this town and it's really weird.”

“I mean...” Cally began slowly. “The big secret is that Sunnydale just kind of... sucks. Hardcore. We've got barely anything going for us that a big city has, but all of the problems. Drugs, gangs, a serial killer or two-”

Hawthorn thought back to the pages of research his sister had left sitting out during one of her all-night benders on the family computer, and shivered. The most damning part of the mess had been the ancient leather-bound books with horrific illustrations.

“Serial killer?” Dawn asked, her eyes wide.

“He got killed in a shootout with police two years ago,” Cally replied, holding up both hands as if to stop the oncoming tide of alarm. “But... like, you get it, right? It's great to gossip about this stuff when it's happening in the next town over, or when it's in New York – or LA – and that's a hundred miles away or more, but it sucks when someone you know get-gets... k-kill-”

Cally sniffed and gave a quiet sob.

Dawn looked horrified and Hawthorn realized it was up to him. Reaching into his discarded backpack, he pulled out a box of tissues and ripped several free from it before handing them over to his crying friend. Cally accepted them with already-red eyes sending him a look of gratitude before blowing her nose loudly and vigorously.

Dawn grimaced as the boy sent her an unpleasant glare.

“S-sorry,” the younger Summers girl sighed, dropping onto her bed. “I-I shouldn't have pushed. I knew stuff like that happened in this town, but... I didn't connect the dots.”

“It... it's not alright,” Cally bit out, then shook her head as Dawn winced. “But it's not your fault. It's this stupid town! I just wish someone wou-would... burn it all down. Or let it slide into the ocean. Get rid of it all and we could move anywhere else.”

Hawthorn looked between the two girls, one shamed into silence and the other still crying.

He groped for social skills of any kind that might help him out of this situation.

“I should go get my costume on,” his mouth said, and Dawn sent him a look of betrayal that he winced at.

Dammit! Why do I always... ugh.

Hawthorn, embarrassed by his own retreat, made his exit all the faster.

Then it was just him and his bag of clothing in the Summer's second-floor bathroom. The space smelled more than vaguely of 'soft' scents common to feminine deodorant, perfume, and laundry detergent. All things that he recognized only when his mother was actually home for a weekend to make sure he and Willow hadn't destroyed the house.

It was a rare occasion.

He sighed again, pushing away the depressive thought and removed his glasses, the world turning fuzzy, before stripping down. Even the visual fuzz, though, didn't prevent him from seeing the outline of his own thin frame, freckles along his face and the upper portion of his chest.

He hoped they faded like Willow's had done.

He also hoped he'd wake up one day like Peter Parker had, with muscles and better eyesight.

But that day never seemed to come.

Pulling his backpack open, he reached down and grabbed his costume. He'd actually had the opportunity to ask for a costume fund this year and his dad had absently put a fifty in his hand before hurrying out the door to meet a client. Whether or not he'd meant to hand him that size of a bill... well, Hawthorn wasn't going to ask.

Not when he could keep whatever he didn't spend on the costume to raid the comics store.

So he'd gone the 'true value' route of Halloween costumes and grabbed various bits and pieces that had lost whatever outfit they'd been paired with and thrown into a bin by the store. A red-brown robe that might have actually been from the clothing section, but looked 'oriental'...

Then he'd taken what remained of a costume from the 'Dune' movie, judging from the labeling on the box-

“Where did that guy even get this stuff?” Hawthorn asked in an undertone as she shook his head. So much of it was weird and out of date, like he'd raided the bargain bins of other stores just to set his own shop up. “Maybe he bought stuff from a warehouse or a company that went under?”

Then there had been a ninja sword he'd gotten for free because the plastic hilt had broken, which he'd fixed with another freebie from one of those lightsabers with the fold-out plastic blades. Except this one had lost the blade and was basically a glorified flashlight.

But he'd stuck the two together and... well, it made something he could tolerate wearing for one night.

Then he'd grabbed a bit of armor or something that he'd strapped to his arm and drawn squiggles on it with a sharpie to cover up the logo of whatever it had been part of a set of. Finally, he'd pulled found a mask that... probably went with a Batman set? Maybe? And, with a strip of spare fabric to tie around his head-

Yeah, turned out they knew what they were doing, this should keep the sweat out of my eyes.

Looking back at him in the mirror, now that he put his glasses on...

“Eh, I guess I can pass for a ninja,” he nodded, inspecting himself. The pants he had on were some baggy brown pajama pants he wanted a good excuse to toss, but they matched the color of the thin robe he'd grabbed.

Overall... yeah, it worked well enough. Especially once it got darker and people wouldn't be able to tell how piecemeal everything was.

…

-and I opened my eyes.

The world around me was one I'd never thought I'd see again. A place of asphalt streets with curated lawns and standalone single-family homes. The air stunk of burning petroleum fumes, lawn care products, and refined sugar. But there was none of the human sweat, blade oil, or animal waste of Konoha in the wind.

Around us, what could only be a suburban neighborhood glittered orange and black in the growing twilight.

Monstrous decorations had been set up. Tombstones, giant spider-webs, human skeletons hanging from branches. Zombies, ghouls, robed figures... and fairies, robots, bipedal dogs, and things I hadn't seen in more than a lifetime.

“Well, this is unexpected... and me without my crossbow.”

I turned, seeing a young girl in a monochrome dress, black hair pulled tightly into twin braids, skin the pallor of a corpse, and a look of blandly curious amusement on her face.

“Ugh, I'm never drinking again... what the hell hit me?”

This girl... she looked like she'd stepped off a thinly-veiled fetish shoot and, given the caliber of firearms she was carrying, probably for some unholy cross between Playboy and the NRA's monthly newsletter.

I looked down at myself... a passable resemblance to my daily outfits, I guess. Up to an including the strip of cloth I sometimes wore to keep sweat out of my eyes at the forge. The sword... I hummed as I pulled an inch free and glimpsed live steel.

Around us, though, chaos was beginning to erupt.

“We should get out of here,” I stated as I watched a group of wolf-people start to come to their senses.

“And you are?” The monochrome girl asked, raising a dangerous eyebrow.

“Kotaro,” I replied shortly, then sighed internally. “Shinobi of the Village Hidden in the Leaves.”

Dark eyes lit up with interest. “An espionage agent, saboteur, and killer for hire? Well, I suppose this night just became salvageable.”

Several people cried out.

“Though the screams of the masses do have their own charms,” dark lips curled upwards.

“Putting aside that,” the other young woman snorted, pulling free one of her guns and checking it over, “any idea what's happening, ninja?”

“Just offhand? I'd guess someone did some kind of spell and transformed a good portion of the town into their Halloween costumes,” I replied, my sword creeping out of its sheath.

“...someone dressed up as me?” She asked, the trace of an upper-class English accent audible in her disbelief. “Some random child knew enough about me to decide to make me their Halloween costume?”

“Well, that makes one of us, at least,” the dark-clad child hummed, looking to one of the wrought-iron fences and casually tearing off a pole before inspecting it. “This will do, at least. Assassin, you clearly recognize us.”

I cocked my head and caught a ghoul lunging at me from behind a tree, hitting him twice and bringing it low, non-lethally. “Wednesday Addams, of the Addams Family. Lara Croft, Tomb Raider. You're both from media franchises I'm familiar with, yes. I'd wager that, wherever we are... probably isn't the same world any of us was born on.”

Lara's eyes widened and she brought up a pistol to one of the werewolves as it began to circle.

“Warning shots only,” I informed her. “That's a person who got transformed, not a monster.”

The British aristocrat paused, clicked her tongue, then spun her gun in her grip and brought the backside of the firearm down across the charging werewolf's face, sending him yelping across the street.

“I suppose that does take the fun out of a duel to the death,” Wednesday sighed, holding up her pole as a pirate eyed her. “If one of the parties didn't enter it willingly, it's just not sporting.”

The pirate twitched... and decided discretion was the better part of valor.

“So... we find this wizard or whatever, I put a gun to his head, and we get him to reverse the spell?” Lara asked, her eyes roving around the monsters on the street carefully.

“Probably the best plan,” I nodded, narrowing my gaze as I saw an advertisement on a billboard rising near a commercial street.

Sunnydale Real Estate!

Well, I suppose that explained quite a bit.

~~~

So... I stared writing and something happened.

I swear I wasn't drunk, I just wanted to... uh, do I have an excuse for this latest madness? No? Dammit.

Okay, no excuses.

Kotaro's in trouble because of something entirely unrelated to the plot happening multiple dimensions away and he has to deal with it to find his way back to Konoha.

The funny thing is that, actually, I'd always had this planned. I just didn't know when I would get around to it. And, given everything coming up with the Chunin Exams very soon, I thought I'd go ahead and get it out of the way. Yes, really. I've had a doc sitting on my desktop for a year with this little arc sketched out. Not even joking.

Anyway, I had fun finally getting around to doing this.

I really hope everyone enjoys it given it's such a massive departure from the normal Naruto-shenanigans.

Oh, and Happy New Year!

Butler Boy - Chapter 15

So, Thomasville had an airport.

Yes, I know that's weird and hard to believe.

It's a tiny town of under three thousand people, it absolutely does not need an airport, but it had one. It was, by most accounts, also the highest altitude civilian airport in the United States, a point of pride for the community. Also bragging rights for crazy Americans because pilots hated flying into or out of it. The runway length, quality, and high-altitude turbulence were not kind to low-skill pilots, who were advised to just not make the attempt.

Thousand-foot drops on both the front and back side of the runway will do that.

There was constant talk about resurfacing the entire thing and re-leveling it as well, but funding hadn't manifested. Which meant that you had to take into account a fairly infamous 'dip' in the center of the mountain-top plateau runway, which further complicated things. The length also meant that only narrow-body planes could use the strip, negating any kind of significant passenger movement.

Which meant that the only people who really used the strip were locals flying to and from Denver and high-end tourists buying into the charter flights that ran regionally.

Rarely did the airport see something like what Bruce Wayne had sent.

It was an all-black Kordstream II Custom with silver trim and the Wayne Enterprises logo stamped on both sides. The entire thing was fully electric, an early joint project between the 'it's totally not alien tech' Kordtech Company and the US military trying to wean the oil-hungry airforce off at least a portion of the massive reserve of petroleum fuels kept for strategic purposes.

The moment I'd set eyes on it, I'd known this thing was an absolute beast under the hood, capable of crossing the entire continental United States if it had its secondary batteries equipped. As soon as we'd gotten going, the electric turbine scram jet engines – two on each wing – managed to push us up to a cruising speed of just over five hundred knots.

As far as amenities went? It was basically a very fancy private condo that flew around the sky and could take you wherever you wanted.

“Okay, I take it back all the whining, squirt,” Addie grinned as she lounged next to me on the opulently-stuffed sofa that wasn't even trying to masquerade as a flight seat. “Forget your little secret base... this is where it's at. Oh, I am going to brag so hard about this to Sandra and Alex. Man, I wonder what something like this costs?”

“About three thousand dollars,” I replied bluntly, my attention on the design I was sketching and the notebook to my side. My sister scoffed. “Per hour.”

There was a telling silence.

“Oh,” she replied quietly.

“Yep,” I nodded.

“So what are you two talking about?” Mom asked, walking over as she sat down on the other side of me, nudging my notebook out of the way.

“How my semester's college tuition wouldn't even cover the flight we're taking to Gotham,” Addie responded glibly, falling back into the sofa with a flop.

Mom sighed, pressing a hand to her head. “Dear, please don't remind me. I know Mr. Wayne is paying for all of this, and he gave good reasons, but oh my word I do not want to remember how much money is being spent on us right now.”

“I dunno, it's kind of nice to know what it'll be like once Ardie here hits eighteen and has access to all his money,” Abbie grinned, snaking an arm around my shoulders.

I clicked my tongue and raised my pen off the pad, injecting just a bit of irritation into my voice. “Sis...”

The arm removed itself. “Right, right... no touchy while drawey. Gotcha.”

“Yes, please leave Arden alone while he's working,” Mom sighed. “And, my boy, I hope you don't take this the wrong way given how much I know you look up to Bruce Wayne, but I think it would be better if you took a few lessons on what not to do from the man as well.”

“Same page, Mom,” I assured her, my eyes still on my work as I sketched in a particularly tricky valve before reaching over to pick up my notebook and flashing her a smile. “I'm not really into the idea of frivolous displays of wealth... and I'm not too fond of planes, anyway.”

“Aww...” Addie groaned playfully.

“Besides,” I rolled my eyes, “even if I burned everything I had from stocks and investments and stuff, it wouldn't be enough to buy one of these things, let alone operate it. We're talking fifteen mill for this plane, Addie, used.”

“Oof,” my sister grunted, wincing visibly.

“Well, I suppose that's... good,” Abigail sighed, obviously fighting the urge to complain about money again.

Besides, I could fly under my own power now. And fly well, not just sort of clumsily hover and make short hops a mile or two long. As luxurious as this jet was, I think I'd much prefer to try the crosscontinental flight under my own power. It'd be fun to stress-test some of my abilities, especially now that I knew I was going to be limited to three 'active slots' for the foreseeable future. I needed to get a firmer grasp on what I could do and how hard I could push. My endurance was creeping up as Algernon put me through my paces during morning exercise and the combination of blessings and traits I'd gotten meant I was getting better faster than normal, but...

Nah, let's be honest.

I just wanted to fly around.

Flying was awesome and I liked doing it. There, all the rationale I needed.

Well, that and... I frowned as I remembered the slips of paper in my pocket, guilt bubbling up. Outwardly, I sighed and stowed my pens in their case before setting both my book and sketchpad aside for the moment. “Bathroom break.”

“Oooh, you should try the bath!” Addie grinned widely. “It's amazing!”

“Adelaide Theophania Villin!” Mom called out, and I made my quick escape. That did explain where Addie had disappeared to for a half-hour earlier in the flight. It was a nearly five-hour trip, so... yeah, she could probably justify it.

Also, another reminder why none of us kids used our middle names.

Just another Catholic war crime.

I shook my head and headed over to the toilet, a smaller room that was distinct from the actual bathroom. Unlike my experience with the nasty public toilets on commercial aircraft, this was a full-fledged toilet. With a heated seat. And a bidet. And leg room. And a full sink.

Another reason I hated flying.

I sighed and fished out the papers before dropping my pants.

There were three of them, not just one.

See, Addie and Algie shut down the idea of tearing a curse ticket so hard that I hadn't been able to fully explain how they worked. I don't think it would have helped convince them to approve my use of one, though, so I'd stayed quiet. The only reason I really considered tearing a curse, though, was... well, two reasons, really. The first was that unlike the general random tickets I got for everything, curses let you select a category of ticket to get as compensation for your curse.

So if you wanted a familiar? You could just straight up guarantee you'd get one.

The same with abilities, traits, skills, and items.

So, okay, that was... really good, considering it cut down on a lot of the 'chaos' of the gacha and guaranteed I'd be able to hide the effects of any given pull simply by selecting 'skill.' And I actually preferred skills, honestly. They tended to just add bulk competency, even if they did give me headaches.

But! The other reason why I wanted to try at least one curse was that they let you roll the gacha at advantage. Which meant you got to choose between two different results and take the one you wanted more. Not necessarily the better one, but the one that fit your situation better.

So before we'd gotten on the plane, I'd pulled for a curse and...

Weakness of Metal

-Medium (9)-

"From the moment I understood the weakness of metal, it disgusted me. I craved the ever-changing nature of flesh." Your body naturally and violently rejects any augmentations and implants you try to add to it. Even adding a metal tooth would cause your flesh and body to reject it violently. (Resolve: Acquire 3 or more augment items from the gacha, or acquire 3 or more traits that contradict the curse.)

'Weakness of Metal.' A medium-level curse that rejected any and all forms of augmentation. Straightforward, with limited effects on daily life, and it even had a removal condition. Which... may or may not be a thing with the rest of them, I guess.

And I'd gotten a gold skill ticket out of it.

Because what I really wanted, at this point, was an actual combat skill.

Yeah, I had 'intermediate blunt weapon mastery,' but I couldn't actually do much to integrate that into a fighting style with my current abilities. I mean... I could turn my anytool into a crowbar and beat people up with it, I guess? And I was better at dealing damage with my punches, kicks, and other assorted bodily strikes, but... I was still thirteen.

I was kind of hoping for something that let me hit things at range with fireballs.

Or at least gave me competency with a martial art or more, like... knives or something.

And, now... normally I'd be willing to put that off. I knew I'd probably get a weapon or martial arts skill at some point and, in the meantime, I just wouldn't get into fights. Or, if I got into fights, I'd just choose random non-powered thugs doing crime and generally avoid guns. That's what cops were for, after all!

And if I did run into a thug, I could just grab a random piece of debris and hit them with it. I'm sure metal chairs counted as 'blunt weapons' in a pinch, no wrestling ring required. More likely I'd just grab a piece of discarded lumber or a metal pipe and clobber them with it. Perfectly acceptable self-defense and totally normal as well. No superpowers necessary!

Buuuu~uuuut, I was going to Gotham.

Gotham, for the uninitiated, being a city full of supervillains. Only a few of which possessed beyond-human capabilities, but... Clay Face already existed, I was pretty sure. So did Grundy. And Killer Croc. And Bane.

Which, okay, yeah... I wasn't guaranteed to run into problems I couldn't solve with a steel pipe.

Except that I was, now. I was – very explicitly – a 'protagonist.'

Going to Gotham.

Without a combat skill.

Internal Screaming!

I took a deep breath and held up the two results from my curse compensation.

'Adept Teaching' and 'Expert Polearm Mastery.' Which... uhh, I gotten what I'd wanted, at least? Admittedly, polearms were not my first choice. I'd always been more of a daggers or swords guy. But... well, beggars couldn't be choosers. Adept Teaching was something I'd like to pick up, but... not at the cost of being able to protect myself and my family.

Also, spears were projectile weapons!

And I could make them out of super-hot flames!

I pursed my lips and nodded, holding up the 'Expert Polearm Mastery' and, feeling a bit foolish, spoke aloud in a whisper. “This one. I want this one.”

'Adept Teaching,' in my other hand, crumbled to immaterial dust.

And I felt a surge of knowledge. I took a deep breath.

“He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.”

As the verse from Isaiah left my lips, I felt the pain recede and my energy bolster slightly. It wasn't a full heal, not even close, but it was a soothing balm against my soul.

And... just as I felt that, I also felt the curse settle in. Before, where the thought of cybernetics had been 'neat,' they were now disgusting to me personally. 'The weakness of metal,' was apparent. It could not heal, it could not grow, it could not be part of you. The body knew what was of the flesh and what was not. You had to drug yourself into a stupor to overcome that rejection of the artificial, and for what? Some base, animal desperation to live one more day?

What was life when it required cutting out pieces of-

I shuddered. “Jesus-Fuck... okay, no more curses. Ow. I can feel my brain-”

A flare of pain.

I gagged.

I coughed.

My hand went to my mouth... and came away bloody... along with tiny pieces of silver and enamel. My eyes widened and I triggered STIM without a second thought, staggering two steps over to the sink and rinsing my mouth out several times without even bothering to pull up my pants.

Heaving breaths, I look at my pale and wide-eyed face in the mirror.

“Weakness of metal rejected my fillings,” I whispered in realization, shuddering again. “Yeah, no. Fuck this. Curses for life or death situations only. Ugh, if I didn't have STIM...”

I mean, I probably could have numbed the pain with my basic understanding of healing magic, but... yeah, that would have been a bad time.

My shoulders slumped. “Ah... goddammit. Now I can't go back to my dentist. Shit.”

I sighed, deeply, and rinsed the bloody fillings off before drying them with toilet paper and carefully tucking them away. Then I scrubbed my hands, wiped myself, and finally pulled my pants back up before returning to wash my hands one more time, just to make sure.

“Honey, are you okay? You were in there for a while,” Mom spoke up, Addie at her side looking more like a petulant teenager than a defiant adult college student. “Oh, you look pale!”

“I'm fine, just a little motion sickness. Upset my stomach,” I waved her off with forced casualness. “It's been a while since we've flown and I'm not all that used to it.”

Mom looked concerned, but nodded easily enough as Dad – sitting next to Algie at the table – perked up. “You're right... when did we fly last?”

My brother screwed up his face. “Huh... was it Chicago? To visit Grampa and Gramma?”

“That was two years ago,” Mom nodded, her lips pursed. “Maybe we should plan a family vacation this summer? Get everybody together again, with how much Adelaide's away at college?”

“I was thinking about summer classes,” Addie began, then shrugged and rolled her eyes at my Mom's pleading look. “But I guess I can put that off until next year. Where would we go, though?”

“Disney World?” Algie asked, cocking his head and squinting. “That's the one in Florida, right? We did the other one, Disney Land, back... six years ago, right? Seven?”

“Your brother's thirteen now, and he would have been seven... so, six years, yeah,” Dad hummed. “That sounds right.”

I frowned, thinking back to the trip and nodding. It had actually been my first time at the park in either life. I'd been to the one in Florida the last time around, but not this one. And I wouldn't say no to a return trip. At thirteen – and a young-looking thirteen at that – I was still enough of a kid to get away with being excited about 'childish' stuff.

But...

I kind of wanted to go a bit further afield.

“Japan?” I offered up tentatively, drawing looks from the rest of my family as I settled back into my spot with my sketchbook and...

A deep sense of disgust and reject-no, it was more than that. Revulsion. That was it. Looking at these things I'd been creating to defile the human form-

I tamped down on that hard.

“I mean, of course Arden would suggest that,” Algie snorted. “How about somewhere with beaches or something?”

“Iwo Jima has beaches,” I pointed out, hiding a smile as my father perked up at the suggestion, now looking thoughtful.

“Not the kind of beaches I meant, squirt,” Algie sighed.

“Yeah, Algie wants beach volleyball beaches,” Addie smirked, breaking her pouty mood to mock our sibling.

“We could hit the Ogasawara Islands to their north,” I suggested. “Those are tropical. And the place where former CIA Director Bush almost got eaten during World War Two.”

“I remember that!” Archibald grinned, snapping his fingers. “The, ugh... what was it? The Chichijima Incident!”

“I heard tropical islands, so I'm going to assume there are dive spots?” Algie asked, ignoring our father and turning to me.

“Super clear waters with a number of wrecks around the islands you can explore on guided tours,” I nodded, narrowing my gaze at the design in front of me. My lips twisted as I forced my fingers to guide the pen further.

This isn't for me. This isn't for me. The curse doesn't apply because I'm not going to use it!

That helped... somewhat.

But it didn't help that I was hungry now, dammit. I'd gotten past being exhausted by STIM, but it still made me very hungry... my eyes flicked towards the rich-person display of food and drinks Bruce had set out for us. No, I'd get another step in the design done first, then go for food.

“I'd be okay with going to Japan, for what it's worth,” Addie commented. “Things to buy, places to shop, corny family activities to do...”

“Enough, Addie,” Mom sighed, turning towards me as I forced myself through the now-passionless project before me, carefully and methodically. “I don't suppose you've got something in your back pocket to convince me, do you young man?”

I hummed absently. “There are Catholic pilgrimage sites in Japan. Plus martyrs' tombs from when the country outlawed and persecuted Christians. And a bunch of old Catholic churches, like the one they rebuilt in Nagasaki after the war.”

There was a moment of silence as my mother narrowed her eyes at me.

“You'd think we'd have learned not to pick a weird trivia fight with Arden,” Addie commented idly, smirking and raising her fist at my side.

I gave her a quick nod and bumped knuckles with her.

…

We'd landed at one of the smaller private airports serving the city's ultra-wealthy, tucked away in the hills beyond the hustle and bustle of the city proper. Stepping out of the plane and into the afternoon light, I was reminded again of the significant time difference we'd just crossed. A trip that was five hours long had pushed us across two timezones, adding two hours to the trip and putting us landing at six, just before the sun set.

Before me, in the wide expansive view of the western hill country was...

...Gotham.

“Whew, nice plane, but it's good to be back on solid ground,” Algie stated, stretching his arms over his head and making exaggerated steps as he pulled at various muscle groups. Notably, his steps were still all perfectly quiet. “I see what you mean about fly... er, Arden, you okay there?”

I rumbled with a grunt. “I'm fine, brother. Just accommodating the genre change to the gritty and street level violence of a crime-ridden city.”

“Ooooo~kay,” Algie hummed, nodding. “You're being weird again, right. Is this going to be a thing all while we're here or just...”

He waved around to the immediate surroundings.

“This city is a cesspool, Algernon,” I replied, my brooding gaze piercing through the miasma of madness which gripped this metropolis. “It's crying out for a savior and there's only one person who can wrest it free from the deathgrip vice and corruption have on it.”

“...and that's you?” Algie asked.

I blinked. “What? No way. That's Batman's job. I'd burn the entire thing down and start over again somewhere else, salting the very cursed soil this urban cancer once stood upon.”

Algie blinked, shaking his head. “You broke character. Also, there's no way this city is-”

My face remained stoically bland as a great plume of fire and light burst into existence near the city's docks. Sadly, that was far beyond my range, but it looked like it was mostly on the water, so... probably not a huge issue. Hopefully?

I frowned.

“...” Algie's mouth hung open.

“So... weird question, but would you distract the parent for, like... ten minutes?” I asked, squinting at the distance as... yeah, one of the docks was on fire, now.

Dammit.

“Huh?” Algie asked, blinking.

“I'm going to head take a quick flight around the city and hide in the setting sun to put out the dock fire, then circle back around,” I replied, doing my own stretches.

“...you know what? Sure,” Algie sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Since this place apparently works on your crazy logic, anything I should watch out for?”

“You're on guard duty for the parents,” I informed him, looking around for somewhere to flame on and transform. “If someone comes up and attacks them, get away or hit them with a – you know what? Here.”

Algie blinked at the belt clip I handed to him. “What?”

“Turn it into a crowbar and smack someone if they try to attack you,” I explained.

My brother clicked his tongue, turned towards the fire in the distance, and slumped a little more. We both knew he wasn't going to be able to tell me to not go. People were in danger and I wasn't going to fight crime. Just put out a fire.

“I think I get why you wanted to hide out like a hermit in the mountains instead of coming here,” Algie sighed.

“Yep,” I nodded, paused. “You see anywhere that the security is weak? Like, no surveillance?”

My brother blinked, startled, and looked around. “Huh, yeah... over there.”

“Thanks! Be right back! Tell the parents I went to the bathroom,” I stated, setting off at a jog and pulling out my ‘angel’ hoodie for good measure. Sunglasses, too. I was, after all, a protagonist now. I had to be prepared for this bullshit.

~~~

Turns out I wanted to do some more Butler Boy. At least I got to Gotham before the new year this way.

Anyway, I'm going to be working on getting out the last chapter of 2025 next. Trying real hard for that to be Industrious, hopefully. Looking at the updates... I should actually do a Naruto-side one. I think I can manage that in a few days.

Hmm...

Well, I hope everyone enjoys the new chapter!

Arden's certainly stepped in it coming to Gotham, and it's going to be a very eventful trip!

Entrepreneurial Spirit - Chapter 9

“Wai-wai-wait!” Amity stuttered, waving her hands wildly, her wide-eyed gaze swapping between the Titan, myself, and Luz. “I didn't – I mean, I'm honored, but-”

“We kinda' just wanted to make sure it was okay to take your power away from Belos?” Luz asked, the way her throat was working and the slight shake in her voice the only signs of how nervous she was. “I-I don't know about... um, inheriting your power?”

The Titan chuckled, his muzzle-ish face grinning. “Well, it has to go somewhere, now doesn't it? And I'd just as soon it go to you than that parasite that calls himself Belos.”

Both girls flinched from the sheer vitriol in the Titan's voice.

“A-ah... please, sir?” Izuku began, stepping forward and looking between us as well, though with more resolve in his voice than the girls. “Er, sirs... Luz and Amity are my friends. I don't want anything to happen to them. Will, um... giving them your power hurt them?”

The Titan blinked at the greenette boy, then his eyes slid over to me as he scratched at his gut. “Brave kid you've got there.”

I grinned. “He is, could use a bit more common sense, but we're getting there.”

Izuku sputtered as Luz and Amity smiled briefly.

“It won't hurt them, kid,” the Titan replied with a shake of his head, “but it really does have to go somewhere, and as nice as your mentor is, I'm not willing to simply sell off the whole of my remaining power like that... plus, there's nothing I really get out of the deal.”

“You could come back to life?” Luz asked hopefully, optimistically.

Titan snorted and shook his head. “What I've got left isn't enough to even reanimate what's left of my mortal shell, child, let alone fully resurrect me. Even if it were, though, reviving me in any form or fashion would mean that the civilization sprawling atop my rotting remains would be unable to cling to me as I stood up.”

Luz and Amity's eyes widened again, both wincing as the penny fully dropped.

“And, even then... I would take being trapped in between life and death – as I am now – over being forced to lay down for an eternity as creatures comparatively sized to your ants crawled about on me, tearing off pieces of my flesh to use as they wished,” the Titan made a disgruntled rumble and shook his head again.

“I... never really thought about what we must look like from the Titan's perspective,” Amity whispered, more than a little disturbed at the analogy. “I'm... surprised you'd want to have anything to do with us, honestly.”

The Titan laughed, a full-throated and almost jolly thing. “Ah... do not worry, so, Amity Blight. I have had a long, long, long time to come to terms with what has happened to me, and this is the path I wish to take forward. Until Luz stumbled through Eda's portal, I had resigned myself to the likelihood that the witches and demons of the Boiling Isles would be wiped out by Belos' plots.”

The three teenagers all inhaled sharply together.

“And until Nova here showed up... I had contented myself with oblivion in exchange for saving both them and my son,” the Titan smiled, a sort of tiredness beyond even resignation in his voice. “But... now that you are here, Luz, and now that Nova is here... things could be different.”

Amity blinked, turning from the Titan to me, and I simply raised an eyebrow as her stare slowly intensified.

“You knew!” She barked out, some spark of insight flaring behind her eyes. “You... you knew this is how it would end! How... it needed to end, didn't you?”

“Amity?” Luz asked, her brow furrowing as she looked between us. “Nova? What's she talking about?”

“M-Mr. Sterling knows things,” Izuku muttered, frowning as I gave him a look of mild warning. “I-I know better than to ask, usually, but... sometimes, he knows how things in different worlds are supposed to go, if no one comes to the store.”

Luz and Amity both turned back to me, the former speculatively, the latter suspiciously.

“I can't either confirm nor deny such a thing,” I replied bluntly, then continued as Amity opened her mouth, “and when I say can't, that's what I mean. You'd have to ask me a specific question about your future that you wanted an answer to, and then be willing to pay the price. Feel free to take me up on it – that flask of Titan's blood is worth quite a bit... but I'd recommend against it unless you're very sure you need an answer you can't get anywhere else.”

There was a moment of hanging silence as the teens looked at each other, then the Titan began to chuckle. “Ha! I like you, Nova Sterling. You're a great deal more reliable than the usual stripe of character that shows up doing your kind of work.”

“Any good regard from a creature as old as you is worth more than its weight in gold,” I replied with a little bow.

“So... wait,” Luz frowned. “The answer to defeating Belos... it was always going to end with me getting your Titan powers or whatever?”

The Titan held out a claw and tilted it back and forth. “Once you came through the portal, that was a potential outcome, but not a guaranteed one. Most of the best endings involve that, though, even if the powers I grant you turned out to be temporary. Though with Nova here to do the transfer... I think we'll be able to make it more permanent.”

“Only if the kids want,” I replied bluntly. “My word is my bond, after all. I start screwing over customers and things get dicey for me real quick.”

“Another one of your rules, right,” Amity muttered, frowning as she rubbed at her chin.

“Hmm... I'm torn between wondering if this is, like... an old fairy tale-style power up where I'm going to be tragically cursed to start acting like a monster or eating people after I win the great battle... or if this is a more shounen-style power up where the curse can be overcome up the bonds of friendship and stuff?” Luz pondered aloud, crossing her arms as she speculated.

Amity sighed, the noise carrying both fondness and exasperation. “I'm going to pretend I understood more than half of your human nonsense, but... I get the gist of it.”

“Oh, um... the boss literally can't do either of those things unless he explains them to you beforehand,” Izuku stated, cautiously raising his hand.

I shrugged. “Fey deals and the like are fun and all... when they're happening to someone else. Beyond not being able to employ tactics like that, I honestly don't like them. I don't enjoy tricking people. The worst I can usually allow myself to do is allow them to trick themselves.”

“Like the slavers earlier,” Luz nodded, grinning slightly, then frowning. “Ah... Mr. Sterling? Could Amity and I talk with the Titan alone for a while? We just... I want to know what all 'transfering his power' actually means before I agree to anything.”

I chuckled and nodded, waving at the room. “You've paid more than enough to rent the space for the entire day and I don't have any pressing customers who need to use it. Feel free.”

“Ah, should I...” Izuku fidgeted, looking between us.

We both jerked slightly, stilling as we felt a customer enter.

“That... should be Sigrid,” I hummed aloud after a moment, then looked back to Izuku. “He's usually here for hardware supplies, food, and drink. Izuku, I want you to go see to him. He's a rough-neck viking type. If he gives you any trouble, look around and pick up the biggest thing you can confidently lift without breaking or tripping yourself up. That'll impress him enough to shut him up. And remind him that I can and will keep his soul from Asgard if he starts shit in here.”

“Right, yes sir!” Izuku replied sharply, dipping his head in a slight bow. “I'll get right on it!”

As he hurried off, I turned towards the two girls. “If you need anything, call my name with intent and I'll know to head your way.”

“Hmm...” Luz nodded absently, looking at the door Izuku had vanished through. “Must resist urge to meet real viking...”

Amity sighed and snapped her fingers in front of her girlfriend's face, “Luz, focus!”

I shook my head and headed off in another direction, chuckling under my breath. As I heard Amity begin asking about the details of the power transfer, I absently wondered if the Titan was going to tell them about his plans to repopulate the species with King. Ah, well... it wouldn't come to fruition for a few centuries anyway. Eh, there'd come a time when Luz and Amity would want children and I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise. It was partially speculation on my part, anyway, but I had met a few terrifying immortals in my time.

Also, it was none of my business, not really.

Hence, I didn't have to tell either of them about it.

“It's one thing if I plan some skullduggery,” I grinned, “it's an entirely different matter if I'm just facilitating a deal between two other parties. I'm not obligated to tell one group when the other is being underhanded... and this isn't even malicious.”

Dude just wanted grand kids.

I could respect that.

“In the meantime, though...” I hummed to myself, turning down a door that hadn't been there a few seconds ago. “Hmm, something's being a bit more obvious than usual today.”

Yeah, the store had moods.

I wasn't all that tapped into them.

Nothing like an emotional bond or anything, but I'd learned to notice when the store started 'acting' in certain ways. It tended to make things easier or harder on me, for instance, when it approved or disapproved of what I was doing, respectively.

It clearly approved of prioritizing Maomao, for some mysterious reason.

“The building I'm working in is shipping me again,” I sighed, rolling my eyes as I opened the door that had just appeared.

…

Could dreams come true and still be nightmares?

It was a question that Maomao was beginning to seriously ponder as she read through the 'basic primer' of 'germ theory.' It was amazing to finally have the words to describe why hygiene was important! No, not only that but to understand why!

“Microbial life,” the teenager whispered reverently, tasting the words as they flowed off her tongue.

Her eyes cut back up to the row of intimidatingly large books above the desk.

And the row after that.

And the row after that.

Her mouth was dry and, reflexively, her hand picked up one of the small cups she'd found by the water pump... that didn't have a pump. Just knobs. And a basin. And released water that was crystal clear with the slightest twist.

Hot or cold.

Either.

How? There had to be some source of heat secreted away behind the wall, perhaps a furnace of some sort? But then how was the water pumped without a pump? It just... flowed out, as if it was already under pressure within the pipe stem it gushed from. Which meant that the knob she turned was some kind of valve in truth, allowing water to flow and cutting it off at the user's whim!

Her fingers itched to return to the wash basin and experiment with it again.

Or the one in the room with the chamber pot.

The chamber pot which wasn't a pot. It was spotlessly-clean porcelain of a pure white she imagined that the Emperor himself might eat off of were it a plate.

A slightly manic giggle escaped her throat as she imagined that faceless and powerful figure dipping his head into the bowl of the waste-pot and eating from it.

Maomao twitched and quieted herself, furtively looking about to see if anyone had heard her.

No, she was still alone. The spirit-lord of this strange place had not yet returned.

Her thoughts returned to the strange man with the fox-like features, of colors that she had never glimpsed before. 'Nova Sterling.' That was the spirit's name. And... it felt strange to even think that. Maomao was no stranger to superstitions, many of the people she encountered in day to day life observed them pointlessly, but...

Her father was not a fan.

Luomen had never explicitly condemned such things, that sort of thing wasn't in the eunuch's nature. Still, whenever someone did something for no reason other than, 'that was always the way it had been done,' the air grew thick with quiet disapproval.

The conversations that followed, once they were in private, were often quite interesting as her father systematically dismantled such beliefs and practices to explain to Maomao the value of proper observation and consideration.

The teenage girl shook her head, clearing it of the idle yearning for her father.

Luomen wasn't here to help her, she had only the tools at her own disposal to see to her own best interests.

She frowned.

“What are my best interests in a situation like this?” She asked aloud, humming thoughtfully as she fought the temptation to simply return to reading the medical text before her.

No matter how much she dearly wished to.

More important matters needed her consideration first.

But the temptation lingered, even as she tried to recall all of the folklore and legends she'd heard before. So many of them had featured a spirit offering everything a poor fool had ever wanted, only for it to ruin them after they'd made a deal. The lesson, her father had explained, was clear. There were no shortcuts to power, knowledge, or acclaim. Trying to 'cheat' the world – the people around you – would only end in tragedy for yourself and others.

Because there was no such thing as ghosts, goblins, and foxes.

And, if there were, Luomen had argued, he had not met one his entire life... so Maomao was unlikely to meet one anytime soon.

“Tsk,” Maomao hissed, clicking her tongue. “Things didn't quite work out that way, Dad.”

She hummed and took another drink of water. That much was safe, she thought. Other food and drink was often tainted or magical in some way, when offered by a creature like the proprietor. But water was usually safe, if she recalled correctly. Was that because it was difficult to work enchantments on? Or simply to lull her into letting down her guard?

And this cup, what was it made of? Not any type of wood she'd ever heard of... nor metal, or anything like fabric...

“...and it certainly isn't glass,” Maomao muttered, holding the plain white cup up to the light as she gently pinched and distorted the thin material. No glass she'd ever heard of could warp and twist like this. “Maybe something produced by alchemy?”

Her father had told her that alchemy was simply the result of interactions between the natural attributes of materials around the world.

But, then... she'd just been sold to a fox spirit who ran a magical store.

So perhaps alchemy was real, too!

Maomao shook her head yet again, reaching up to slap at her cheeks and sighed explosively... helplessly. This was how it happened, wasn't it? How she signed away her soul. Luomen had been stern on his rule against allowing her to touch human corpses, not because she would be unsafe with any filth they produced, but because he knew her insatiable curiosity well enough to understand she'd never turn away from such things if given the chance.

She did not disagree, necessarily.

Then... what did she know, that she could use to her advantage, here? Her mind spun back to the short conversation she'd had with her... employer and ran through what she could remember of it.

He – appeared – to not enjoy taking slaves and – technically – she was not one, if only just barely. The terms of the contract her kidnappers had with the 'Fox Lord' were that he owned 'her labor.' Not Maomao in her entirety. She'd heard tell that the palace worked on similar terms. Young girls would be employed under contract for a term of some years, their salaries split between themselves and their families, and then they would be released once the contract was over.

Except her contract was rather open-ended.

Her toil was his for, 'as long as he wished to have it.'

Effectively, slavery by a different name.

Maomao frowned. Even if he appeared to enjoy their arrangement just as much as she did, he'd also said it was 'magically-enforced.' If it was anything like the agreements in the old tales told around campfires and candles, then either of them would be punished severely by some enchantment were they to attempt to break the terms.

...if she wanted to break them.

She twitched at the treacherous thought and tried to push it back down where it came from.

You have to spend your life doing something, why not this?

Maomao grimaced, physically turning her head, as if that would turn her mind from the thought.

He doesn't even look at you like the men who frequent the Verdigris House.

It was true. He'd barely glanced at her after giving her a perfunctory once-over. His eyes hadn't lingered on her bust, her waist, or her rear unlike so many of her elder sisters' clients. Those men would seek pleasure from anything with a feminine shape, even other men if they were pretty enough.

Maomao's eyes drifted down to her own body, the deliberately-chosen robes disguising her one 'female enticements,' as the madam of the brothel she'd been raised in called them. Speculation bubbled up as she glanced around the incredibly clean, well-lit room with some kind of smokeless-heatless orbs contained in the ceiling producing illumination even more steady than the sun on a bright summer's day.

Books lined the cabinet above the small desk she was sitting at.

Glass doors of perfect form and clarity showed off hundreds – perhaps hundreds of hundreds? - of pills, powders, liquids, and more raw ingredients. Some of them glowed, some of them were within even more tightly-sealed containers beyond that.

On another desk, there was a strange glowing piece of glass set in a frame. She ached to investigate it, but there was enough to sate her curiosity that she could ignore the (magic?) device for the moment.

Maomao swallowed and, feeling her throat dry again, drained the remainder of the small cup's worth of water.

If it comes to that... I will not be like that woman. I will have a binding agreement.

Maomao blinked, then groaned and scrabbled at her hair, frustration pouring out of her with the sound. “What am I even thinking...”

“I'm sure I don't know.”

The young woman froze up, her eyes going wide as she turned to stare at the slyly-smiling human with fox ears, two swishing tails, and a gaze that was now intent on her.

Ah... so this is what it's like to be a rabbit.

…

It took me a few minutes to get the girl settled into a seat with a serving of tea and cookies.

“Great One, I apologize for my previous outburst-” Maomao began, and I sighed.

My hand came up, flat and open towards her.

She stopped talking.

“Please. My name is Nova Sterling. You may address me by Nova, Mr. Sterling, Boss, Sir... but I am uncomfortable with too many airs or titles being laid upon me,” I explained intently as I sipped at my tea. “Originally, I was as human as you are-”

Maomao blinked, her eyes widening subtly.

“-and the culture I was born into was not one which emphasized the subordination of women to men, let alone the position of power which one individual can hold over another.”

“Ah,” Maomao muttered, wriggling in her seat as she looked off to the side. “I... that does explain some things, I suppose.”

Her blue eyes flicked back to me, taking a close measure for any offense.

I merely settled in to my tea, then thought better of it and added extra honey. I would have preferred soda, but that was probably a bit too adventurous for the girl just yet, and it would be rude and suspicious to offer her a different beverage than my own.

“So, I am to work as an apothecary's assistant?” Maomao ventured tentatively, taking a sip of her own tea and...

“Disappointed?” I asked, a small smile on my face as I flicked an ear.

“I'm sorry?” Maomao blinked.

“Your tea,” I nodded at the cup. “Disappointed I didn't poison it?”

She winced, obviously trying to come up with an answer that was both honest and did not offend me. “I, ah-”

I chuckled softly and shook my head. “Think nothing of it. But... yes, on the topic of your employment. You will be my assistant in the medical rooms. Izuku is still a bit clumsy and weak-stomached to help me in those affairs, I suppose.”

Maomao dipped her head, not replying verbally.

“For now, at least,” I belatedly added.

The young woman opposite me frowned slightly, then took the bait. “F-for now... sir?”

I gave her a nod of approval. “For now. The men who brought you in... they are not intelligent enough nor careful enough to manage the drugs I've given them. They leapt at the offer of a more powerful substance than the opium which they'd initially wished to purchase. Even though I explained the dangers of it thoroughly and fully, only a short time will pass before they convince themselves that I was being too cautious. Or that they are experienced with drugs such as these and know better. Or perhaps they will try to be as careful as they can be... and simply have an unfortunate accident.”

Maomao nodded slowly. “My father cautioned me about such things, especially when dealing with unfamiliar medicines.”

The fact that she'd contributed to the discussion at all was heartening. “More relevant to our discussion, though, is that regardless of whether it takes days or weeks, they will be dead soon. Or, I suppose, someone else will suffer their stupidity and the guards of your city will come knocking. In any event, any of these outcomes will functionally invalidate your contract.”

“Oh!” Maomao breathed in, realization coloring her expression. “Oh.”

A shade of disappointment settled in over the initial relief, and I hummed in thought. It was easy enough to understand my point... after all, if there was no one alive to collect payment for her services, then there could be no further contract. Likewise, if the person holding the other end of the contract was in jail and unable to collect... well, I couldn't carry on accepting her work without paying someone.

“What... happens, then? To me?” Maomao asked, her fingers reaching for a cookie while her eyes traced my face for any hint of disapproval.

“In the event the contract is no longer viable due to the death or imprisonment of the other party,” I explained carefully, “then the authority would devolve to you. In such a case, you would be free to decide your own fate after working off any extraneous debt from the initial contract.”

“Extraneous debt?” She asked, frowning and biting-

Her eyes lit up as refined sugar hit her tongue.

I smiled slyly and chuckled, to which I got a mulish look of irritation. “Please, enjoy. I simply take pleasure in honest expressions. I may have little in common with kitsune... or huli jing as your people know them, but... I am still a trickster in my own way. I just delight in the surprise of a customer realizing I have exactly what they need when they did not even know it was possible.”

Maomao hummed, nodding.

“But, to answer your question... if the contract holder dies tomorrow, for instance, you would still owe me enough work to compensate me for the drug they purchased,” I explained. “Which comes out to one month, since you're likely curious.”

She frowned, but nodded slowly.

“Not what you hoped for, but not as bad as you feared?” I asked, grinning.

“...more or less,” she nodded, taking another bite of her cookie. “What... are – or, will be, my options?”

“You could simply go home,” I nodded to her, and her lips pursed thoughtfully. Not displeased, but not pleased, either. “Or you could negotiate another contract to work for me. You would be trained to some degree, after all, even if you would be nowhere near skilled enough to allow you to operate on your own after just one month.”

The kitten bristled, hair standing on end as her blue eyes glared at me.

I snorted and nodded back to the pharmacy we'd left. “If you make it through that first book this month, I'll consider you an unqualified genius.”

That brushed away the implied insult to her skills and made her perk up.

Though she turned thoughtful after a moment, frowning again. “W-would I... if I made a new contract... would I be able to go home? To visit?”

I leaned back and nodded. “We'd have to discuss specifics, but that's fine. The only wrinkle in allowing you to go home is that time...”

I made a vague motion with my hand and shrugged. “Time flows differently here. Izuku – my assistant – is under contract to spend an entire year at a time helping me, then he returns a day after he left his home. A month later, he'll spend another year contained within one day.”

Maomao's eyes had gone very wide indeed. “I... ah, I didn't think those legends were true!”

“Which means we'll need to specify the exact terms of when you visit your home and when you're due to work here in the store,”I stated, looking up at the expanse of magical space around us. “The store won't break a deal, but leaving it to chance... well, it can get playful, if you know what I mean.”

The teenager frowned and shook her head. “I don't think I want to, actually.”

“Also acceptable,” I nodded. “So I take it, you're considering a position?”

Maomao stilled for a moment, then hummed. “I... I don't know. This... very much was not what I had planned today when I went out to gather herbs.”

I simply nodded as we sat there for a long moment in silence, each sipping our tea.

“Can I ask...” she started slowly, still hesitant, “how would I be paid?”

“It would depend on what you prefer,” I answered freely. “I've had a few employees before and they each had their own preferences. Some asked for hard currency, gold or silver coinage. Others asked for their country's local paper script currency. Though many of them asked me for store credit, admittedly.”

“Store credit?” Maomao asked, making a face, then pausing.

I chuckled. “It has a bad reputation, I know, but... I'm sure you can see why some people would prefer to spend their earnings here in the store where they work.”

“...you'd be willing to sell those medicines?” Maomao asked, her tone caught in the quiet realization of something that should have been obvious, yet she hadn't dared hope for.

“I would,” I nodded. “Between store credit and an employee discount, they could be quite affordable.”

Maomao bit her lip so hard I thought she was going to draw blood. “Do you do... samples?”

I snorted and shook my head, “Not for that sort of thing, no. But, I can offer you a meal, if you like, since it seems as though my customers are going to take me up on using the summoning room for as long as they like.”

Maomao opened her mouth, obviously going to ask... then visibly stopping herself.

Which, honestly, was probably for the best. I'd felt Luz leave for a few minutes, then return with another person. A particularly small one. Which meant that they were introducing King to his father. That... would probably take a while to get sorted out, and I didn't fancy explaining everything about the ancient eldritch godlike giant from a place called the 'demon realm' that was on the other side of the store from us. She'd need a few weeks to adjust to that reality, at the very least.

“I-hmm,” Maomao frowned, then nodded. “As long as it's normal food and doesn't obligate me to anything.”

“It probably won't be anything you've eaten before,” I cautioned her. “I find food from your period of development to be a bit bland and unappetizing, sorry. But I can promise that it won't be magical in anyway, nor will consuming it or the drink I offer obligate you to any service on my behalf or allow me to violate your free will or bodily autonomy.”

She hesitated a moment longer.

“And I can offer that in writing, if you wish,” I added with a smile.

“If doing so does not cause offense, that would be preferable,” Maomao sighed in relief.

I just chuckled and rose out of the chair to beckon her towards the stationery room. “Here, this way. Now, I was thinking about something spicy for our meal, paired with alcohol to help us relax.”

Maomao perked up at that. “I always enjoy a glass of alcohol, and I've tasted spiced dishes before at the brothel I do work for on my father's behalf. Not often, but I'm not unfamiliar with them.”

“Very good,” I grinned as she followed me along, the ice now thoroughly broken. “I was actually thinking about making nachos. While I cook, we can have a few drinks and I can tell you about how the parts of the plant which taste of spice affect the tiny structures on your tongue to produce the feeling of 'heat' in food.”

Her eyes sparkled as she nearly bounced in my wake, almost skipping. “Really? You know the mechanism – I mean, that's interesting, please tell me more!”

“Well,” I began with a grin, “it's a chemical called capsaicin, which was originally developed by plants as a way to drive off animals which might eat them. You might even say it's a poison or toxin!”

Maomao almost froze at my words, her eyes now fully gleaming.

~~~

Finished before Christmas, woo!

Ah, I've finally gotten some time to sit down and plow through this chapter after four long days of family activities.

Now I only have to buckle down and survive the big day itself.

Here's to hoping I make it to the new year and can blow a few things up to release the stress.

Anyway, the saga of Luz and Amity continues as Nova delves deeper into the new wage slave that's come under his tutelage.

Hope this chapter finds everyone having a happy holiday season, a Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, and an Enjoyable Kwanzaa.

Next update? Dealer's choice, not sure what it will be, but I'll post something after the Holly Jolly Storm passes. I haven't forgotten about that Industrious update this month.

Mind Games - Chapter 48

Still entwined with Himiko, her head laying gently on my chest as she breathed slowly in deep sleep, my eyes snapped open. My girlfriend shifted against me, her flesh caressing my own as she hummed and sought comfort. One of my hands absently caressed her back, making smooth circles that sent her back into a more complete slumber.

My attention, though, was on something else.

Something more ephemeral.

Something I couldn't quite grasp in my metaphysical senses. It was faint, as if I was seeing something in the distance, or feeling the passing of someone I knew only by the breeze in their wake. The sensation was... sand slipping through the fingers of my soul, only the vaguest sense that something I should be grasping more tightly was escaping my attempts to hold onto it.

I pulled on a mote of essence and finished taking my shower.

Getting out of bed with Himiko wrapped around me, ensuring she would remain asleep, and escaping the room without her noticing were all time-consuming things. Instead, it was best for that all to have already happened, giving me a headstart with a clear head and a cleansed body.

As I dried off and donned...

My hand lingered as I went to pick up my robe.

Instead, I grabbed my costume's undersuit.

“Well... shit,” I muttered, slipping the flexible body armor on and sighing. “That's definitely not a good sign at all.”

Shaking it off, I shifted to my female form and narrowed my gaze at the note I'd already left on the bedroom door. “Goddamn fucking sidereal bullshit.”

Though making the shift to my other body was less about any sixth sense going off and more logic applied to those same feelings. If something was building that I needed to take action on, after all, I'd be better off doing it as Perspicacious Mauve Avenger. There wasn't all that much Shinso Hitoshi could do at two in the morning that wouldn't raise the alarm on my double-life.

I stretched, working out muscles as I prepped for whatever was coming.

Without firm guidance, though, I fell back on what had served me well and turned towards my office. The documentation had been pulled and the program had finished running, leaving me immensely grateful for the new muscle my server farm had now. Back when I was running on a single Company Computer, it'd have taken me several days to get something like this done.

“So let's see what's both relevant and disastrous enough to get me out of bed...” I sighed, popping my neck as I dropped into my seat.

The lists had compiled correctly and added several more missing names to the electrical quirk-users that were MIA. I'd really have to expand my search parameters, though. Just because AFO was Japanese didn't mean he couldn't traffic quirks from all over East Asia and what was left of Oceania.

I mean, probably not many from Korea, given the state it was still in after what happened during the Dark Age...

Which, yeah, most of the peninsula was still nominally an exclusion zone, just to be on the safe side.

Not many had known about it in the early twenty-first century, but the Norks had been stockpiling chemical and biological weapons in addition to nuclear. Once the Metahuman Phenomenon – the original name for 'quirks' – had spread and the regime began to collapse, the then-current dictator Kim Ju-ae had hit the doomsday release.

It was only thanks to the near-complete collapse of global trade a decade earlier that the diseases and contagions had been as contained as they were.

My point being, a lot of East Asia was... not well-regulated. Pirates and smugglers abounded outside of the national waters claimed by the still-extant nation-states that had clung to stability through the turbulent time period. Once you were outside of certain specific safe zones, you would be taking your life and freedom into your own hands, not to mention your safety. The Korean peninsula was just one such area, to say nothing of mainland China and its fractured political scene. There wasn't exactly a ban on travel to or from these places, but official means of doing so were few and far between.

Just for instance... Jeju Island was, technically, the capital of the Kingdom of Korea, but it was a minor player even a century and a half later and could barely keep its shores safe from raiders looking to pillage. It was – effectively – a Japanese vassal-state in all but name at this point.

“People might talk about how bad the Dark Age was for Japan, but we got off easy,” I muttered, giving voice to my idle meditations on history. “Hmm... well, that's not good.”

There were other spikes, because of course there were.

Super-strength quirks were the obvious next set of victims. Which, honestly, I couldn't blame the government for missing. There were simply so many of them. Strength quirks had seemingly limitless variations that all amounted to the same thing when you looked at what they were good for. Some quirks enhanced bones, some enhanced muscles, some just set an arbitrary limit of how much a person could lift. Or push.

Quirks could be oddly specific sometimes.

Captain Celebrity had what was probably one of the most useful variants of 'super strength.' His was a tactile telekinesis field that allowed him to move himself through the air in a mimicry of flight as well as pull classic Superman stunts like catching falling aircraft without shearing the plane in half.

The American hero was currently on leave in Japan, doing a goodwill tour of the US military bases and trying to shed some sexual assault allegations that were complicating both his career and marriage.

“Some things never change, I guess,” I hummed, frowning, as I moved through the next set of data.

The itch in the back of my soul was still building.

Slowly, steadily, but it was definitely there.

“Things around me are set to go down a path incongruous with my values,” I stated, rubbing my chin as I looked for the problem. One of the monitors showed the hero-tracker sites, another one my social media feeds, and a third attached to the various UA online chatter.

Ashido, Jiro, Kirishima, Midoriya, and even Bakugo... they were all fine.

Yes, I had cameras secreted about in various neighborhoods to keep track of important targets. If that meant spying on teenagers, so be it. Nezu did it all the time and look at how respected – feared – he was. I didn't think they were even in danger, really, I just wanted to be sure. The first three, at least, were important to me on a personal level, as well.

“All Might hasn't been seen since eight,” I hummed, rooting through a few more sightings of Japan's Top Ten and making sure to check in on Hawks as well.

What is it? What's going on?

My eyes tracked back to the screen showing the data from the disappearances. Technically, I didn't have any proof beyond statistical analysis that they'd been kidnapped, just gut instinct.

My eyes narrowed.

One, two-no, four... six? Ten, that's... damn...

They were edge-cases the computer didn't have the skill to pick out. Quirks that weren't classified as being mechanically similar to each other, but were thematically-linked. Once you got more abstract than 'super-strength' or 'pyrokinetics' the data got more difficult to parse properly.

There were also classes of quirks that the government just didn't consider a priority to track; ones that had little to no practical value in terms of hero work, commercial marketability, or destructive potential. In particular, one of those quirk groups was a loosely-mapped set of people who could repair themselves in some form or fashion.

Not necessarily 'regenerators.'

That was the rub.

There was a woman who could absorb clay – certain types of soil, to be exact – in order to repair her body. Was that regeneration? Technically, I suppose, but try explaining that to a bureaucrat. A particularly interesting case was someone who could actually repair themselves. Their body was functionally cybernetic, able to be dismantled and repaired like any other piece of technology. Another was actually an emitter-type quirk, shooting globs of ooze at plants that would heal him while disintegrating the foliage.

Quirks, it must be said, were some weird shit.

And all of this would have been anecdotal evidence if everyone I'd just mentioned before wasn't a missing person.

The feeling in the back of my soul throbbed.

But that only happens when I-

Someone close to me, but not close enough that I'd have felt it sooner. Something was coming tonight. If it were Kirishima, I'd have another day or two of warning in advance. There was no 'right' or 'wrong' in this world for the patterns of fate to settle into. It was just my judgment, the vaguest indication that someone I'd had contact with was in danger.

Everyone that truly mattered to me – that was my friend, mentor, colleague, classmate – were fine. I'd checked on them.

But what about...

My fingers flew across the keyboard as I pulled up the registry of students who had been 'expelled' from UA a few days ago. It was a roster I'd created out of simple curiosity and an ounce of foresight. Given I knew that Aizawa would be putting them back in the Gen Ed classes tomorrow, it behooved me to know the kinds of quirks that would be showing up in the Sports Festival.

One of which was 'Sound Eater.'

Specifically, the quirk of Gochiso Raibu.

It was listed as an enhancement quirk, not a pure regenerator, for the simple reason that it also allowed him to augment his strength, speed, and endurance. It was a top-notch quirk, in other words, only limited by the amount of noise that was in his general area that he could absorb. In a city like Tokyo? With enough training, he'd be a monstrously powerful hero.

My heartbeat thundering in my chest, I was moving an instant after I glimpsed his address.

…

The Catalog got a bad rap.

And it was a deserved one.

I'm not obtuse or self-deceptive enough to obfuscate that.

But there were parts of it that weren't absolutely morally corrupt to a degree that beggared belief.

Those parts were why I kept a small reserve of points that I made sure not to spend. They were my emergency stash. My rainy day fund.

Because there was plenty of stuff in the Catalog that wasn't people. Non-sapient objects you could purchase without any ethical qualms. For instance, you could get a completely personalized lightsaber for five credits. Heavy ordinance was also available, for the right price. Granted, I hadn't gone in for any of the latter due to the simple fact that unloading plasma artillery anywhere near my home turf would cause a significant amount of alarm, to say the least.

But I could buy – just for instance – a fully loaded armory from the war against Skynet in the Terminator universe.

Or a set of proton packs from Ghostbusters, if one were so inclined.

There was some really nasty shit out there, if you knew where to look.

Granted, most of the really high-end stuff was restricted if you didn't own some kind of interstellar starship or had ready access to a dimension-jumping power. Why? Because too many people blew their damn fool selves up with that shit.

The question was what world's weaponry to pick from. Honestly, Star Wars wasn't all that bad of a choice save for the fact that all of their shit ran on various kinds of exotic hypermatter formed from energy dissipating through the hyperlanes. Most of the weapons didn't need much of the stuff, but the blasters functionally required small bits and pieces in various components.

Did I know with absolute certainty that carrying around a blaster from a galaxy far, far away would attract the notice of something with too many eyes and mouths?

Well, no, but if there was a technology base that was just as good... why risk it?

So, Cyberpunk? Well... as iconic as some of their scop was, no. Beyond the fact that a lot of it was meant to be implanted, even the firearms and melee weapons could... kind of shitty. Almost definitely as a result of general corpo monopolistic crap, but the fact remained that the weapons were meant to be wielded and work within a matrix of one specific company's compatible technology. And, if you wanted to take full advantage of it, you'd still need at least an implanted agent and a pair of cybereyes to optimize the smart weapons.

There was also just better tech out there, at the end of the day.

And there was no real 'correct' answer, either. I just needed something that didn't run on magic or exotics, fit the human form, and was capable of excessive lethality. Oh, and had melee options as a personal preference.

Which is why I was flying down the highway at five minutes past two AM with a loadout that would raise uncomfortable questions worth a dozen felony charges were I to be caught with them.

“C'mon, pick up... pick up...” I hissed into the helmet of my ride, the phone ringing endlessly on the inlaid communications system. Whatever complaints about The Company I had, their tech at least fucking worked.

“PULL OVER!”

I didn't even have to look to raise a middle finger at Ingenium, pouring on the speed and easily passing the one-fifty-kph mark.

The half-engine hero was left in my dust for a moment, but I could see him gaining again.

I ducked and weaved around a cargo truck, the entire frame festooned with lights and designs that would have most people outside the nation staring in disbelief.

Finally, mercifully, the line picked up.

“Hello, this is Principal Nezu, am I correct in assuming this is Perspicacious Mauve Avenger? I can only assume, given that I still can't track your number!”

“Gochiso Raibu is about to be abducted from his place of residence,” I replied bluntly, not having time for my previous shenanigans. “I'm on my way to intercept, but may need backup. Ingenium is in pursuit, I'd be grateful were he instructed to provide assistance rather than attempt to arrest me.”

“I see.” There was a pause. “Given your previous service, I'll be ensuring that this matter is given priority attention. Do you require anything else?”

“I've sent you a secure link to data I've collected. Please analyze them at your earliest convenience,” I stated, pushing my bike faster as I saw Ingenium catching up. “I'm almost on site, cutting communications.”

Which is when I cut the speed and allowed him to rocket past me.

My exit was coming up, after all.

While Iida Tensei skidded to a hard stop after he overshot me, I smoothly decelerated into a turn and cut towards a neighborhood. Behind and within me, urgency pounded as I dared to dip into my essence to make a perfect ninety-degree turn. It wasn't much and I hoped it would go unnoticed, but even if I couldn't sustain my suicidal highway speeds in a residential area, I also could afford the drop in speed to make a normal turn. Since I wasn't flouting space, time, destiny, or fate, perhaps nothing would feel the violation of me telling physics to go fuck itself.

I squealed to a stop at the next intersection, my right hand going for a heavy anti-cyborg pistol loaded with armor piercing high-velocity rounds.

Multiple lifetimes' worth of skills saw me drawing a bead on the creature before my conscious mind could bring it to bear.

Shadows swam around it like muddy water, cutting off light as its many arm-legs splayed around for balance. It had just emerged from a second-story window with an unconscious body bound closely to it within several of its limbs, pressing the boy I'd seen Monday to its chest.

My mind-soul reached out... and felt something.

Its existence was a mutilated cancer.

As its exposed brain and glowing red eyes began to turn towards me, I didn't waste any time. Instead, I opened fire. Slugs meant to penetrate heavy armor centuries ahead of what was readily available on this world impacted heavily on the load-bearing leg-arms that the creature was using to walk, splattering green ichor-like blood across the street.

In response, it opened its mouth and howled.

Loud and long, the noise rang out through the neighborhood, completely overwhelming the explosive blasts of my bullets. Even then, my motorcycle helmet served a secondary purpose in shielding me from the bone-rattling sound as I changed my aim for its brain. While it was regrowing its limbs, I plugged three more shots into its gray matter.

The momentary disruption to its central nervous system thankfully cut the howl short. Even with my protection, I was grateful. So to was I grateful for-

The sound of skidding feet

“What is that thing?!” The hero barked in disbelief, torn between looking at me and staring at the creature.

“Ingenium, hostage rescue!” I barked back, gesturing forwards with my gun. “I'll distract it!”

The adult hero jerked, then nodded. “Right, on it!”

Another three-round burst rang out, disrupting the already-mending flesh as the creature stumbled forward. The armored hero revved his engines, took a crouch, and pressed one hand to his head in what I guessed was a short burst of communication with his team.

Then he burst into motion.

Even if I'd led him on a merry chase across the city, he'd earned his place in the rankings, flashing into motion faster than even I could track without augmenting myself. Ingenium's body slammed into existence, his foot impacting the creature's skull with the force of a meteor.

He's using the attack to stall his own momentum.

It was a flash of insight, the realization that he'd avoided going for the direct-grab on the hostage because he's have pulped the boy if he'd hit him at that speed. Not all super-speed heroes had the advantage of tactile telekinesis to stop us from damaging the people we tried to save.

Even as injured as it was, the Nomu tried to grab for him, one of its many limbs reaching out to grasp at the hero.

I put a bullet into it at the wrist.

Ingenium landed on the creature's chest, lashing out with another kick as he grabbed onto the hostage.

I plugged another set of rounds into one of the arms holding the boy.

A sticky mucous-like substance clung stubbornly to both the hostage and the hero as his engines burned, tearing the teen away from his captor. Absently, I noted the fact that my erstwhile classmate was still out cold, likely meaning that there was some sort of sedative effect at play.

Ingenium gave one last pull and the viscous green goo gave up.

Both the hero and the hostage were off in a cloud of dust.

Which gave me time to holster my gun and pull out a binding. On the one hand, I was loath to do something like this to a person – a group of people – who'd already been taken apart and put back together in a traumatic experience I couldn't even imagine. On the other hand, though, binding the creature would hopefully tell me where Garaki's base was located now.

I revved my bike once to build up impetus, and-

Shot forward.

Even accounting for the fact that I'd put more than enough ammo into it to kill a dozen people, it was still visibly regenerating. Still, that was nearly a bonus for me, as I slapped the binding bracelet around a clawed limb while it was extending to grab me, smoothly accelerating away in a clean drive-by.

Then I was off, racing after Ingenium.

The boy was safe, the day had been saved, my mission had been accomplished.

I was done here.

I poured on the speed, pushing the bike to accelerate as I felt the creature leap onto the spot where I'd just been. Soon enough, I'd left it behind – not that it had given up – and made my way to where Ingenium was meeting up with his support trailer. A younger hero with a bodysuit done up in All Might's colors was taking the boy and handing the hero a tall glass of orange juice.

Right, can't fault the guy for recharging his quirk... even if that's a weird-ass requirement.

“It's right behind me!” I called out, pulling my bike up. “We need to get out of here!”

“If the creature's in pursuit, we can lead it to a less populated area!” Tensei shouted, pointing off to a main street. “Heavy quirk use and excessive gunfire in a residential neighborhood isn't a sustainable way to fight!”

I gave him a jerking nod, taking the implicit rebuke on the chin. Even in my other identity, I didn't exactly have any sort of formal training to use these weapons, so it was a fair criticism. “Acknowledged. Nezu should have contacted you and have backup on the way. We should-”

I cut myself off, turning towards the howling creature as it approached on its too-many limbs, glowing red eyes locked onto us.

My hand went to the controls for the bike's cannon.

Then, reluctantly, shifted for my pistol again.

Before I could draw another bead on the approaching disaster, though, a meteor struck.

A tan meteor about a hundred and sixty centimeters in height, not counting the long white rabbit ears protruding out of her head and jutting upwards. Muscles for days, a bloodthirsty grin for weeks, and the kind of power to keep both running for even longer.

Mirko's kick landed with the force of a small explosion, driving the creature into a crater as she barked a mad laugh.

Goddamn Rat Bastard, you really came through on this one.

I turned to Ingenium and hit a switch on the bike before tossing him the small drive that ejected. “My recording of the incident, from my perspective. For your records.”

Turning my bike, I watched as the hero's sidekick took a step forward. “You're not going to stay and help?”

He seemed almost offended by the notion, but I shook my head and jutted a thumb towards the fight. “Now that Mirko is here, I'd just get in the way. It's better I remove myself from the situation before someone remembers that I'm a vigilante and decides to try to arrest me.”

Ingenium took a fleeting look at the fight, then nodded. “Alright team, let's begin civilian evacuation! Mirko will handle the fight, and I've been informed we have more backup incoming!”

Then he turned to me and dipped into a firm bow.

“Thank you for your help tonight!”

Yeah, I can see where Tenya gets it from.

Even if his brother knew how to relax a bit, Tensei definitely had a similar attitude to the younger boy while he was on the clock. “No problem, happy to help. And... sorry about flipping you off, just had to make sure you were going to follow me.”

The hero straightened up and grinned, all boyish charm and none of the robotic hero. “Don't worry about it. I've had far less helpful people do far worse in the heat of the moment.”

Another massive impact rang out and, for a moment, I wondered if perhaps Mirko would be able to subjugate the Nomu. Either way, though, it didn't truly matter. Tracing Garaki back to his base would be helpful, but I had other routes to explore now.

Giving Ingenium one last nod, I revved my bike and pulled away from the scene.

Hopefully, I could sneak back into bed before Himiko noticed I'd been gone.

~~~

Alright, this chapter came out much more smoothly than the last one did.

Sadly, it hung up on some IRL stuff. Two medical emergencies for two different pets in one day. Thankfully, they're both as good as they can be now. One's just old and has health problems, the other one turned out to have pneumonia, but is on medicine now.

Anyway!

I've got a chapter of Industrious in the pipeline and it looks like - despite the three-way tie here on Patreon, my one Awesome Tier voter over on Subscribe Star wanted more Entrepreneurial Spirit. So that's what I'm doing this month as the bonus.

Other than that? Just busy with holiday stuff.

Thank you to everyone once again and know that I appreciate all of you and the support you offer.

I should have another chapter out before the big day, but just in case I don't...

Happy Holidays, Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, and a Joyous Kwanzaa!

Butler Boy - Chapter 14

“You suck – so hard,” Addie spat, lying back on the broad stones of my secret clifftop base.

“I mean, I didn't do anything, it was all Shadow. Whossa good girl? That's right, you are,” I cooed, giving the dire wolf a rubdown that she obviously enjoyed. Yin and Yang, being dogs as well, came over to demand attention. “Yeah, yeah, you two are good boys, too.”

“I still can't get over what a great view this place is,” Algie shook his head, having had more time to recover than Addie.

Seriously, it's like neither of them had ever ridden a giant extinct wolf before.

“Oh wow... you can see all of Thomasville from up here,” Addie breathed out, her eyes wide as she stared across the distance.

Not that there was all that much to see. The town was less than three thousand people even on its best days – exempting the busiest holidays – and situated in a neat little box canyon with sheer cliff walls on three sides. Still, it was a picturesque little town, probably why the population jumped so high during Christmas and Spring Break.

“Yeah, that's one of the reasons I wanted to put my hideout here,” I nodded, leaning back against one of the large mountain stones.

“...killer view aside, why can't you just put it on one of the big rocks behind the house or something?” Addie asked, finally taking her eyes off the mountainous vista. “I mean... yeah, you can fly up here with your flame powers, apparently, but wouldn't it be more accessible to have baby's first superhero lair somewhere you can more easily reach?”

My smile melted off my face as I crossed my arms over my chest. “Do you hate fun, Addie?”

My sister gave me a similarly-blank stare. “I'm sorry, Ardie, I'll try to be a little bit more into your little superhero role play game when I'm not frustrated over the fact that you have every medical degree known to man shoved into your head, thus making a complete mockery of my efforts to graduate college with a nursing degree.”

I looked away first. “Fair.”

“I thought so,” Adelaide snorted, then rolled her eyes. “Look, my main concern is just that you setting up camp a couple hundred feet off the ground and a dozen miles outside of town means you're going to be really alone out here. Algie and I are absolutely not going to be able to get up here unless we ride Shadow. If no one can find you and we run out here to discover you bleeding out on the ground, it's a hell of a hike back to Thomasville, too.”

Sighing, I rubbed my head at the cogent and sensible counterargument. “Fine, you've got a point, but it's not like I'm actually going to be running out fighting villains or anything sometime soon. And when I do, I'm not going to have all that much in the way of immediate support. Think of this as more of a training exercise to see if I can handle setting up a base to operate from, taking test flights, and all that. Plus, you know that I've got at least one instant-heal on me at all times, given what I can do.”

Addie clicked her tongue and sighed. “Alright, fine. It's your hideout, put it wherever you want. Just don't whine to me about having to come out here when it's pouring rain or when there's six feet of snow on the ground.”

“Also training,” I pointed out with a nod, making her frown. I shrugged, “Look, if I can't handle a little inclement weather, I might as well just throw in the towel right now. Not wanting to go out and save the day because I might get a little wet? Lamest superhero ever. Plus, I need the practice flying anyway. I'm okay with small distances, but I was still a little shaky on the way up here, even.”

“Just... don't get sick, little bro, okay? If you're going to be flying in that kind of shit.” Addie sighed... then looked over to Algernon. “Anything to add, Big Al?

Algie winced. “Please don't? Just Al, okay? And... like, until Arden actually hurts himself or something, I was just going to let him do whatever. You know how he can get.”

I opened my mouth... then closed it.

They were implying I was stubborn and... regardless of whether that was true, it behooved me to stay out of the conversation at the moment.

“Ugh, fine. Boys,” Addie sighed exasperatedly. “So do the thing already and get us somewhere we can get away from the cold, alright?”

I nodded, removing the 'Hideout Realtor' ticket from my pocket and heading over to where a single large rock jutted out from the mountain, casting a shadow over a dozen square feet next to the rising cliff face. To my untrained eye, it looked secure enough, didn't have much weight on top of it, and would serve as a nice little awning for my 'front door.'

Also, Shadow's den was right next to it, tucked away in a similarly-sheltered area that would protect her from winds, rain, and snow.

“Here we go,” I muttered, pressing the ticket against the surface and tearing it in half.

There was a shimmer, then a door suddenly appeared in the face of the rock. It wasn't immediately obvious, being colored much like its surroundings, but looked sturdy and-

“So... did it work?” Algie asked, looking over my shoulder.

-was apparently unnoticeable to anyone else.

“It's right here,” I said, reaching out and putting my fingers in a crevice that – if I didn't know any better – would have seemed like part of the rock face. Instead, the section of rock slid free and tucked itself into a pocket as I opened it.

“Jesus!” Addie cried, her feet scraping the ground as I heard her take a half-step back.

“Holy crap!” Algernon spat, similarly unnerved. “I couldn't see it until you opened it, but... damn, how does that work?”

“Magic?” I asked rhetorically, smirking at the twin looks from my older siblings I got in return. “Well, the ticket for the hideout did say it was supposed to be 'secret,' which probably means that no one can notice it until I invite them in. Something like that.”

“Huh... neat,” Algie muttered, following me as I moved in.

The door opened into a large room that was sparsely furnished. Large sofa-couch that, at a glance, I thought might be a sleeper, done up in deep blue with black trim. The walls were a similar shade, just slightly lighter, with hardwood flooring. I'd have to pick at it to see if it was real or just quality laminate, but it looked real. A standard blocky coffee table, a television hanging on the opposite wall, and... an old-school fireplace. I'd have to see where that let out, but nothing beyond the simple hearth surrounding it.

“Is that a flatscreen?” Algie asked in mild disbelief.

I blinked.

Oh, right... those are fairly rare in this world, still. Big ticket items -heh- even with some superscience stuff trickling down.

“Forget the TV, this place is already as big as my dorm and I'm trying not to be angry about it,” Addie huffed, shaking her head as we moved onwards.

Again, sparse furnishings or a complete absence thereof. A large doorway opened directly into a single large kitchen-dining room shared space, though the cooking area was more of a kitchenette than anything else.

“It comes fully stocked?!” Addie cried, opening a cabinet door in disbelief.

“Just canned goods, looks like,” Algie shrugged, opening more. “Nothing fresh, which... good, Arden can't burn the place down trying to cook.”

“It was one time, dammit!” I nearly shouted, throwing my hands up. Seriously, it wasn't even my fault! I'd just forgotten that I didn't have the reach and strength of an adult anymore. Thankfully, there hadn't been any grease involved and the fire had actually been confined to the stovetop, but...

Well, family is about never letting you forget when you fuck up.

I sighed, turning away from Adelaide's growing disbelief and frustration to look into the large hallway, which... yeah, everything was big, here. I wondered if that was because I hated small doorways and hallways. Legacy of moving too much furniture, once upon a time.

Short hallway too. “Let's see... laundry room, compact washer-dryer-”

“You get your own laundry unit?!” Addie cried, actual outrage in her voice from the kitchen.

“YOU LIVE IN A DORM!” I shouted back. “Why didn't you just rent an apartment with a friend?!”

“They require freshmen who live outside a certain distance from the college to spend the first year in the dorms!” Addie yelled back.

I sighed, palming my face. Right, that was a thing.

You know what? I'm going to pass on college this time around, fuck it. I've got better things to do.

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, admittedly, but one that I was going going to stick to. After having so many medical degrees in my head and becoming a master artist, I didn't see the point in the traditional college experience.

Thankfully, though, that seemed to be the end of the revelations, as far as grinding Addie's gears went. There were two bedrooms (both with beds and closets bigger than her dorm's), and a (private) bathroom. Finally, there was a basement-ish room with an emergency exit. Also, the basement-

-did it really count as a 'basement' if the entire 'house' was inside of a mountain?-

-was basically an empty concrete block that looked like a serial killer's lair, which was... for storage? Or something? Whatever, it was more space.

All in all, the hideout was just that – a hideout. I don't think I could see myself living here fulltime, but it was a good place to duck and cover if things ever got too hot and I needed to, well... hide out.

“You know, you're supposed to be the oldest, right?” Algernon asked with a sigh as he dropped onto the couch. “That means... what was the word, maturity?”

“I'll be mature when my little brother doesn't have an entire fucking house to himself at thirteen,” she muttered back.

I sighed, shaking my head as I reached into my pocket and pulled out my small collection of tickets and peeled off one of them and pushed it at her. “If I give you this, will you stop bitching?”

Adelaide instantly sobered up, “Arden, you don't have to-”

I fanned out the three tickets from the stack. “Look, I've got two bronze for myself and a gold. One for a full week of sticking to Algie's exercise schedule, one for pulling his head out of his ass-”

“I will totally put you back in the headlock, squirt,” my brother groused.

“-and the gold is from the interview,” I continued, ignoring Algie. “I wanted to come out here and set the hideout up so that I could go ahead and rip through these before we leave for Gotham tomorrow.”

“Which, by the way, is also bullshit. I cannot believe you are on party-invite terms with Bruce Wayne,” Addie sighed, looking at the ticket with a certain amount of longing. “You sure, Adren? I won't deny that getting a power or something is neat – it's awesome never having to worry about college parking passes or whatever, but... they are your tickets.”

I shook my head, then paused and sighed. “So... if I really wanted more... there's always this.”

Algie and Addie blinked as I set the tickets down and pulled out a blood red one.

“What's that... curse?” Algernon read off, his eyes widening. “You... what's the point of pulling a curse?”

I clicked my tongue at the ticket. “This showed up last night. A little explosion of confetti and an announcement that I was being rewarded for filling up my three ability slots... which, yeah, turns out I only get three of them for the big showy powers. I can have as many skills, items, familiars, or traits active as I want at the same time, but I have to swap out abilities.”

“Huh... so, wait... how's that a reward?” Addie asked, shaking her head.

I blinked, then slapped my forehead. “Right, sorry... I tear a curse ticket and get a curse, then I get a commensurately-powerful normal ticket to do a standard pull. Weak curse means a weak ticket, powerful curse means a powerful ticket.”

There was a moment of silence as my siblings digested the revelation.

“That... seems like a horrible idea, just saying,” Algie stated, looking between Addie and myself. “It's a horrible idea, right?”

“Absolutely terrible,” Addie nodded firmly, staring at me. “Which means you're not going to do it, right Ardie?”

I hummed, looking away and off to the side.

“Arden!” Adelaide barked, doing a fair impression of our mother.

“Only once! Just to test it out!” I replied desperately, getting unimpressed stares in response. “I have poor impulse control! You know that!”

Addie groaned, her head flopping back on the couch as my leg began to bounce with nervous energy.

I'm not a gambling addict! I can stop anytime I want! I just don't want to stop! HA!

Yeah, right. I was developing a problem.

Precisely what the gacha intended, most likely.

But, then again, the looming threat of my family's trip to Gotham was weighing heavily on my mind. I mean, there was the possibility that nothing could happen and we'd just attend a mildly interesting party, I'd pitch some of my ideas to Bruce, and we'd be flown back home on his private jet just in time for the camping trip with the scouts on the following Tuesday. Granted, Astrid was a little bummed that we couldn't hang out/date on Saturday, but we'd see each other during the trip.

If I survived.

Despite having willingly agreed to step food in Gotham, I wasn't a complete moron. I knew the odds were stacked against me having an uneventful trip. Even if I didn't have any personal archnemeses at the moment, a number of Batman's Rogues had already popped up. Joker, Ivy, Penguin, and Scarecrow just to name a few. Even then, there was the whole gang war thing that Batman had instigated by taking down key members of the various crime families which ruled the city from the shadows.

Big party? Lots of rich people? Crazy city full of costumed supervillains and organized crime?

No, something was probably going to happen. Best case scenario was that we were on the periphery of it, well outside the splash zone, and walked away just vaguely traumatized.

But explaining that to my older siblings was... challenging, considering that I could cite nothing more than a 'gut feeling' to source it.

“Okay, how about we put the cursed ticket away and just do the normal freaky superpower gambling for today?” Algie sighed.

“I second that motion,” Addie stated firmly.

I sighed and rolled my eyes, tucking away the blood red strip of paper. “Fiii~iine, but you have to take one pull, Addie.”

My sister opened her mouth to argue, then stopped and leaned back on the couch. “You're not going to let this go, are you squirt?”

“Look, Gotham's crime rates might have gone down since the Batman showed up,” I replied bluntly, “but they're still some of the highest in the nation. And, yes, I know we're going to be at Bruce Wayne's family estate, not the Narrows or a slum or whatever, but I'd still feel a lot better if Algie and I weren't the only people who had something to fall back on in case of an emergency.”

Adelaide sighed gustily and ran a hand through her hair. “Fine. But just this one more, okay? And I'd prefer something that made my life easier, like a medical degree or... fuck, super sleep or something. That'd be nice.”

“Well,” I tore her ticket, one I'd gotten for finally getting around to finishing the restoration on that Atari console I'd had sitting on my desk for weeks. I'd needed a break from plotting out my replacement heart design and had gotten tired of it sitting there half-assembled. Honestly, I hadn't thought I'd even get anything for it. “Here you go.”

Addie nearly fumbled the gacha ball in surprise, her eyes widening as she caught it. “Shit! Warn me, Arden... Jesus... okay, let's see...”

Her eyes widened. “Child of Art-”

My own eyes widened and I lunged forward, pressing my hand to her mouth and essentially tackling her into the couch. Ignoring Algie's squawk of protest as Addie and I tumbled onto the floor, I took a deep breath as I allowed Addie to pin me. Her face was flushed, her hands holding my biceps, and her eyes glimmering with surprise and anger as she stared down at me.

Ignore how hot your sister is, I've got a lot of practice at this...

“What the fuck, Arden?!” She asked, not getting up yet.

I blinked and shook my head. “Do not say a god or goddess' name. At all, ever. Not if you can help it. Especially now that you have their blessing. Drastically-increased chance they will hear you and come to investigate.”

Addie blinked rapidly, tearing her eyes away from my own as she leaned up, looking at the slip of now-crumpled slip of paper in her hand. “Oooooh... shit, yeah. That... that might not be the best idea. Fuck.”

“Wait, what... what's this about a god or goddess?” Algie asked, cautiously taking a step over to look at the paper in her hand. “Child of-”

“Shh!”

Algie startled, blinking at us. “What?”

Addie sighed, and rubbed at her face tiredly. “So, it's been a bit since I reviewed my mythology... but a lot of pagan deities are really, really jealous assholes as far as someone touching their stuff. I'm just taking a wild guess, but they probably don't know I have one of their blessings, since I got it from Arden's weird roulette power and not them.”

“Almost certainly,” I replied with a nod.

“But the bigger problem is that it's-” Addie grimaced, looked at the note again and shook her head. “The goddess of the hunt. She's notoriously picky about virgins, if I've got that right.”

“Eh...” I temporized, waggling a hand. “She only let virgins join her personal hunting groups, but was pretty cool with non-virgins otherwise. She is a fertility goddess, after all. She actually has a domain for, well... women who have been taken advantage of or assaulted, too.”

Addie blinked, looking down at me. “Okay, it's weird you know all that. And, come to think of it, it's weird that you stopped me from saying her name like that, too. You get one of these... blessings, squirt?”

“I got the best one, thank you very much,” I replied with a grin.

Then paused.

“But, uhh... are you going to keep sitting on me like this? Or let me up? Just wondering,” I asked, nodding down to where she still had me pinned to the floor, sitting on... well, my hips. More or less.

Adelaide blinked, looking down at where her weight was located.

Despite the way her cheeks reddened, she smirked slyly. “Uncomfortable?”

I felt my own face heat up, but refused to blink first. “Getting there.”

Addie snorted and rolled her eyes, but rose up off of me with a grunt of effort. “Fine, fine... get up. So, let's see... before I got tackled to the ground... 'goddess of the hunt, proficiency and talent with ranged weapons greatly increased'... okay, that's nice. I don't think I'll use 'tracking and wayfinding,' even if they're apparently supernatural now. Damn, I guess I can track 'prey' across the entire country and... well, I do like hiking.”

She said the last as if anyone in Thomasville didn't like hiking out of sheer necessity. Summer basically meant hiking was the one big free activity anyone could do. As much as Sebas bitched every time we did it, he and I usually found ourselves wandering a wilderness trail or six every year out of sheer boredom.

“You know what, I'll call this a win,” Addie shrugged. “So, alright... you turn to do something stupid, Arden.”

“Woo...” I replied unenthusiastically, settling back into the dining table chair I'd pulled into the front room and picking back up the small stack of tickets I'd let fall to the floor. I looked at the tickets and decided to go with one of the bronze first, for a change. “Now, let's see...”

Tear.

Gacha Rattle.

...and capsule!

“Okay, for... helping Algernon with his... difficult moral dilemma-” I looked at my older brother, who'd been flexing his arm menacingly as if he were putting something head-shaped underneath his arm. I took the hint and cracked the plastic orb, shattering it into dust. Immediately, a hand-sized screwdriver dropped into my lap... one that had a faint aura of magic about it. “Huh, an All-Purpose Tool. 'A screwdriver that shapes itself into any mundane tool, such as hammers, knives, chisels, etc...'”

I blinked, cocking my head. This... sounded familiar...

Jerking, I picked it up and unfolded the screwdriver into a crowbar, then twisted it into a wrench, switched it out for a knife... “Oh my god! This is a Traveler's Anytool! Holy shit, I loved these things!”

“A.. what?” Algie asked, mystified as I played with one of my new favorite things in the world.

“A traveler's anytool,” I replied giddily. “They're a low-cost magic item in a Dungeon & Dragon's setting that you can buy and it counts for having the basic tools to perform any mundane skill check. These things are awesome!”

“I thought Mom didn't want you playing that game,” Algie stated, frowning.

I froze, my eyes going to Addie for help.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Well obviously, Arden picked that up from a friend who plays the game, he wouldn't know anything about it himself, right Arden?”

“Exactly right!” I chirped, my grin stilted and plastic.

Algie gave me a level frown and shook his head. “Okay, you've got a magic screwdriver. I guess that's neat. We do need to get back home sometime tonight, though...”

I nodded and, after hesitating a moment, I imagined the anytool taking the form of a money clip, attaching it to my belt. It wasn't quite as good as my music player, but it was still an awesome tool that I wanted near me at all times.

“Alright, let's see...” I went through the same song and dance with the next ticket, humming thoughtfully as the gacha orb materialized in my hand. “Stable exercise for a week gets me... Free Flier. 'You are a master of flight, you are almost more comfortable flying than walking.'”

“Okay, now that sounds useful,” Algie grinned.

I nodded slowly, trying and failing to find any difference in my mindset. It wasn't a skill, though, but a trait. Which I guess meant it was only something you noticed while using it. The... ass tattoo I'd gotten was similar in function, only really 'active' when I was trying to develop magical or mundane skills.

“I'll have to try it out when we leave,” I muttered, putting the piece of paper in the stack next to me. Once I got home, they'd all go in the hidden binder I was jealously hoarding my Magic: The Gathering cards in.

I was pretty sure Mom knew about those, actually.

But as long as I wasn't actually playing the game or 'wasting money' on more of them, she seemed to be ignoring my little collection.

Which will show her in twenty years when I get that stack of Black Lotuses graded and auctioned off!

I shook myself, not the time.

“Okay, last ticket,” I sighed, pulling out the gold one and tearing it. Once the orb dropped into my hand, I cracked it and felt...

Something was over me.

I paused, my brows furrowing.

“What's wrong?” Addie asked, leaning forward to look me over.

“Just... kind of reminded me of when I got the blessing I pulled,” I replied, shaking my head again and holding up the paper note. “'Draw of Fate. Your fate is strong, things are not moderate for you, destiny curves in your direction like a main protagonist...”

I stared at the slip of paper in blank disbelief.

“You have plenty of luck, bad and good.”

“That... sounds interesting?” Algernon asked, though the look Addie was giving me seemed more pitying.

I stared into the middle distance for a long moment.

“You okay, squirt?” Adelaide asked tentatively.

“Any chance you two could tell Mom and Dad that I ran away to join the circus? I kind of want to hide out in the basement of this place and just... not leave, ever again,” I replied bluntly, my voice and expression deadpan.

I may have to rethink my policy on invoking The Presence, because I'm going to need some kind of help...

I was going to Gotham City, and if that wasn't enough, I explicitly had a protagonist's luck.

Fuck.

Just... Fuck.

The curse ticket in my pocket was heavier than it should have been... or, at least, it felt like it.

~~~

Here's the next Butler Boy!

Tying up a few loose ends before the Gotham Trip happens.

This one is mostly getting Addie back into the mix and setting up the hideout for later use. Arden also cracks a few tickets and has another few pulls.

Also, I'm kind of glad I named them the Villin family now.

Their luck is just criminal!

...yeah, I'll see myself out now.

Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, next week will be another Mind Games and a chapter of the Marvel side of Industrious, I think. Have a great weekend!

PS: If you want the full text for all of the gacha pulls, the public gacha record is bookmarked on the collection.

Mind Games - Chapter 47

The apartment Endeavor was providing for Himiko was in good condition, especially for a student's situation, but fairly basic. It was what I'd have called a 'studio apartment' back in the states and had a bit more of an American vibe to it than the – frankly claustrophobic – layouts of most traditionally Japanese structures.

That said, it was the type of place that you were meant to spend as little time as possible in.

A futon bed you could roll up and put away for sleeping, a small television, a kitchenette tucked away to one side, a standard Japanese toilet that had more electronic components than most calculators, and a bathroom that doubled as a laundry space. Nowhere to entertain visitors, but the building was meant for quiet professionals and not the kind of place a raucous party would be at all welcome.

Himiko had spent a day decorating and personalizing the space, setting up various bits and bobs to show that someone lived there and was occupying the space. There was a set of dishes sitting in the drying rack, spare uniforms hanging up on a cheap laundry stand, various personal hygiene items that appeared half-used, and a set of pictures strategically placed around the small apartment. Even the lights were on hidden timers attached to a small microcomputer that would simulate the random activity of someone moving about the rooms during the hours Himiko was supposed to be 'home.'

She'd done all of that, of course, to disguise the fact that she barely even used the place.

Instead, she and I both used our Home much more often.

The beds were just more comfortable.

Also, the bathrooms were so large you could park a small car in them, if you were so inclined.

Oh, and instead of having to subsist on prepackaged meals and convenience store produce, the fresh ingredients that appeared in the Home's pantry and didn't cost anything to procure were always of significantly higher quality.

Actually... there were about a dozen other parts of the Home that were just better. As serviceable as the apartment the agency had booked Himiko was, it just wasn't up to the standard that we'd both become used to over the past few months. Even before we'd enlarged the Apartment to the Home, the former had provided higher-quality amenities than anything but the most top-end residences out in the rest of the world.

So while keeping an identifiable apartment for Himiko was a bit of a chore, it was also absolutely necessary. Given that she and I were both employed by a top-level hero agency, not having a legal mailing address was the kind of red flag that got HPSC internal affairs involved at the very least. Adding onto that Himiko's status as a minor, it would entirely be possible for the Japanese wing of child protective services to be called up, which would be doubly-bad due to the fact that they'd almost certainly put her back with her family instead of allowing her to continue 'living on the streets' for lack of evidence otherwise.

But there were benefits, too.

Especially when it came to not involving her family in any sleeping arrangements.

“Hitoshi is staying tonight, yay!” Himiko cheered as she bounced around the room energetically. “Oh-oh, what should I cook? Curry? Udon? No, wait – my husband likes American food, hmm... Fried chicken? But it's not Christmas...”

I chuckled as I sat down my school bag and began peeling off my costume. The outer layer could use a wash tonight, which meant the toolbelt and hidden compartments needed to come off. “You know Americans don't just eat fried chicken at Christmas, right? They do it all the time.”

“Really? So weird...” Himiko pursed her lips, a blank expression settling over most of her face as she relaxed. “Does Hitoshi want that, then?”

I hummed, then shook my head. “No thank you, wife-”

The blond girl almost melted at the form of address.

“-actually, I think Mexican might be good tonight. Or at least tex-mex. Haven't had that in a while,” I continued, nodding slowly before turning back to my woman. “At least, as long as you don't mind something spicy?”

“Spicy? Like wasabi?” Himiko asked, cocking her head.

“Different kind of burn, but similar,” I nodded. “It's a low-effort meal, something good to fix after a long day at school or work. You can do chicken, beef, or fish and make tacos or burritos out of them. Maybe another time I'll see about teaching you how to make tamales or empanadas. Mmm... maybe meat pies, too, although that's more cajun than anything else.”

“Hitoshi wants beef, then,” Himiko nodded to herself. She kept a running list of my preferences, so I didn't really need to ask how she knew. “I want fish.”

She was looking for a nod of approval, so I gave her one.

I didn't want her to require it to move forward with making her preferred kind of dinner, but... baby steps. “The recipe I know calls for tilapia, which is... I think you'd know it as izumidai? That, and your choice of red onions, red cabbage, guacamole, and limes. You can substitute more familiar things if you'd prefer, but... the sauce is pretty mild, so is the seasoning. It's got a little bit of a kick to it, so it'll be good to see if you like this type of thing.”

Himiko nodded slowly, taking it all in. “And Hitoshi's?”

“Ground beef and grated Mexican cheese with higher-end salsa. You can oven-warm the tortillas if you want,” I replied, removing my under layer and stretching out muscles I hadn't used much that day.

“Hitoshi needs vegetables,” Himiko stated firmly, crossing her arms and narrowing her gaze at me.

I sighed.

A lifetime ago, my father loved to make jokes about how my mother wouldn't let him die because she forced him to take blood pressure medication and eat something that wasn't meat and potatoes. I'd inherited at least some of that, it appeared.

“There's vegetables in the salsa, I swear,” I replied tiredly. “But if you really want to, throw some corn, beans, and finely-diced onions in the ground beef when you fry it up.”

Himiko pursed her lips again, but nodded and turned away to start dinner – or at least get a full recipe off the internet. She preferred not having all of the pieces handed to her, by me at least. Cooking was primarily her job, though I helped, and she liked being able to sketch out recipes herself when called upon.

It was either that or I'd have to buy the expansion to Faerie Feast and then decide to trust my sociopathic significant other with a declared interest in finding cute girls to join my harem with the ability to cook literally addictive food.

Despite everything, I wasn't quite that stupid.

“I'm going to take a shower, then I'll be in my office,” I spoke aloud. “I'll leave my laundry out.”

“I'll have the butler take care of it!” Himiko chirped back.

The topography of the Home was... strange, even stranger than the apartment had been, really. But, it was what I'd signed up for. The hallway was a straight line that felt like a spiral, the rooms were at impossible angles to each other, aligned so that they should be occupying overlapping sections of space and leaving the entire structure feeling both cramped and strangely large. I think it had something to do with how you always needed to walk more than you thought you did to get anywhere, artificially inflating the distance between two points.

My shower was quick and uneventful, but very much needed. When I came out, a set of traditional house-clothes were laid out for me. Most likely it was Himiko that had swapped them, then. Her stealth was getting better, which was a terrifying thing to behold.

My 'office' was on the far corner of the property, isolated on the secondary story of the Home... even though there weren't any stairs.

I entered into a small cutaway of a larger room, the rest of the space taken up by rows of servers that increased the data throughput for the Home and gave me some serious extra muscle in the event I needed to hack into something or crunch some numbers.

Currently, they were plotting out a map using the information I'd gathered from various sources.

Some were as simple as copying publicly-available databases.

Some... well, see the aforementioned note about hacking.

“Okay, running through everything...” I muttered as I dropped into my sinfully comfortable office chair and leaned back with a sigh. My eyes ghosted over the screens as I brought up my ongoing projects. “Garaki is nowhere to be found, that's just great.”

I hadn't expected it to be all that easy, mind you, but I'd hoped to turn up a few clues simply by knowing what to look for. Instead, it appeared that the man had taken his operations entirely off-grid or had somehow tapped into a power supply that didn't register on the national systems responsible for monitoring such things.

“So... I'm a mad scientist,” I began slowly, staring at the screen and letting my eyes unfocus as I thought through the matter. “My options are an illegal power tap, masking my energy needs with official legal ones, or securing my own energy source. I've ruled out the first one, the second one is still possible, but I'm leaning more towards the third...”

Which wasn't good.

Energy independence opened up a lot of territory to check, even just within Japan. A lot of otherwise-inaccessible mountains and islands could be reached via Nomu-teleportation. It was going to be a pain in the ass checking all of the defunct military bases from the Dark Age, to say nothing of the private bunkers the upper class had built to try and ride out the apocalypse.

“Theory-crafting,” I stated, rubbing at my chin idly. “Energy sources. Everything needs power, where do I get it if I'm a mad scientist on the cutting edge of crazy bullshit? Renewables are good, but most of them have downtime. That can be off-set with batteries. If he's on an island, he might have a tidal generator. There are a number of spots out there where you can put a geothermal tap, too.”

Something felt wrong about that, though.

I grunted, realizing my mistake. It was nice, stable power. The fix was too sane, too normal, too mundane for a man like Garaki.

“Nuclear?” I hummed, then shook my head. Nuclear reactors, when you got down to it, were pretty simply beasts. Even the 'new' thorium-salt ones this world had developed a hundred years ago when the national grids of various countries had fragmented. Add onto that, Japan still had a bit of a taboo about nuclear material...

No, Garaki wouldn't go for that. Still too pedestrian.

“He might have one of them for a backup supply,” I settled, nodding to myself, “but he'll want something more impressive for everyday use. Something capable of handling surging power draw for when he wants to shock something to life like Dr. Franken... stein...”

I paused.

Could it be that simple?

I leaned forward and tapped into the national database of missing persons, a thankfully public resource... and a regrettably large one. My fingers danced as I hit the search macro and slammed in all of the variations I could think of for 'person with an electrical quirk reported missing.'

Then I tagged the files, exported them, and shoved them into an excel file with a script to take the dates and graph them.

Then I sighed and leaned back.

“Well, shit... that's not good,” I admitted, looking at the spike in the data. Right around the time Garaki had evacuated his lair. Several cases in the months before, several in the months afterward. I reached up and rubbed at my eyes. “Very-not-fucking-good.”

There was the outside chance of data ghosts, of course. A mirage presenting me with what I wanted to see rather than what was actually there. I'd need to run through the data manually and make sure the script was running properly, then look at where the people had been picked up from and how they'd gone missing. Some of them might have circumstances that contraindicated Garaki being involved.

Just out of personal curiosity, I did check Kaminari Denki and, at a guess, it seemed he'd dodged the bullet by being a bit too young. His quirk wouldn't have been quite developed enough to meet what I think Garaki's standards were.

“Moving forward, then,” I muttered, my focus locking in as my fingers hit the keyboard. “There are people who aren't going to be on the national register. Migrant/refugee communities, visa holders visiting the country, trafficking victims – the usual suspects for vulnerable and invisible people. I need lists, so back to the forums. Set the parameters for the bots, but not just electrical quirks, I want them all. Anyone who might have disappeared, that's a potential Nomu.”

Thankfully, there were publicly-available resources for this kind of thing. Even in infamously-xenophobic Japan, there were private outreach programs designed to help people integrate with society and provide help for the disadvantaged.

They had lists, too.

And there were less-than-legal ones as well. Blacklists that employers passed around which prominently featured the poor and immigrants on them. Those weren't easy to acquire, but they weren't all that difficult, either. Unsecured corporate emails were like that.

Anything to keep my thoughts from-

“Husband, dinner is served,” Himiko stated, cracking the door.

My fingers stopped, then I hit a few more keys. The various processes I'd set in motion started to compile and chew through the hundreds of thousands of names, locations, occupations, and yet more that I'd given it. That done, I rose from my seat and opened the door fully.

Himiko gave me a disappointed-sad mask that didn't reach her eyes. She still wasn't quite comfortable with completely dropping her borrowed expressions when we were alone. Baby steps. “You work too much.”

I snorted and smirked. “Always more to do and school's actually eating up more time than usual, these days.”

Himiko cocked her head and nodded. “It's more fun than junior high was, I guess. My classmates are...”

Her face spasmed slightly.

I reached down to take her hand in mine.

“You can call them annoying, you know?” I pressed quietly as we began to move towards the dining room.

“It's not cute to call people that,” Himiko muttered. “They're just... too loud, too... too... friendly.”

I hummed, avoiding chuckling at her plight. It wouldn't do to make light of her situation. “Introduce me to them during lunch tomorrow. I'll try to mediate things a little bit, see if I can't get them to give you a little space.”

A bit of tension flowed out of her shoulders. “Thank you, Dear.”

I squeezed her hand in mine. “You're welcome, Dear.”

Taking the wall up to the dining room, I sighed as the aromas of spicy food hit, then blinked as I noticed Himiko shaking her head and snorting rapidly. I felt one edge of my lips slowly crawl upwards. “You don't like spice?”

“It smells strong,” Himiko whined, reaching out and taking a napkin to cover her nose.

I snorted myself, pressing my lips together as I shook with amusement.

“You're bee~ing meeeaaan,” my woman groaned quietly, looking away from me with a pout. “It's Hitoshi's stupid salsa that's the worst! Ugh!”

“Well, I appreciate the trouble you went through for me,” I grinned slyly, taking in the artfully-arranged soft tacos and spiced ground beef, beans, and corn mixture. “And we don't have to have it often. If I want a burrito I can just heat up a frozen one-”

“No!” Himiko jerked forward, her red-tinged eyes intent on me. “I'll make Husband's stupid spicy food because it's what he likes and I'm a good wife!”

I hummed, matching her fierce golden gaze for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, but in exchange I want to make you at least one meal a week. It can be lunch or dinner, your choice, and you can pick whatever you want.”

Himiko hesitated a moment, then met my gaze again and accurately assessed that I wouldn't budge on the issue. “Sashimi and sushi.”

“I can do that,” I nodded. “Give me a little warning as to when you want it. Remember we'll be going back to the agency next week to take up our usual shifts again.”

Himiko nodded, taking a bite of her fish taco and stopping short, then taking several more bites in quick succession. “Mhm... yummy!”

I grinned and nodded, slathering on salsa as I folded up a burrito and raised it to my mouth. “It is, yes.”

The rest of the meal passed with only short exchanges of pleasantries and slight updates on various subjects we were taking at UA. Here and there, agency work would come up and the latest rumors would get passed around. Eventually, though, the food was mostly-gone and what little remained consigned to leftover containers in the fridge.

Then, as Himiko was moving to her room, I reached out to take hold of her arm.

Golden eyes blinked up at me. “Husband?”

“Take your bath, then come to my room,” I paused, letting that sink in. “You have no need to return to your parents home anymore and they have no right to lay claim on you anymore. I'll be waiting.”

Himiko's eyes slowly widened, her smile bursting forth wide enough that it showed the full danger of her sharp maw, “I'll be just a moment!”

“Take your time,” I assured her, leaning in for a slow kiss that left her putty in my arms, “but not too much, okay?”

Himiko giggled and bounced off as I released my grip.

I sighed happily and rolled my shoulders as I headed to clean myself up a little bit. The shower had definitely helped, but dinner had been finger foods and I'd rather my mouth not have too much heat when I used it for... other things. Which meant I had an appointment with a toothbrush, dental floss, and mouthwash.

Himiko took longer than I did, allowing me a bit of time to simply sit and relax on my bed, taking in the dim lights and the silence.

It was a rare luxury, those few moments to myself that weren't engulfed in work.

Sadly, overwork was a byproduct of my quest not to allow myself time to destroy the economic system of Japan by declaring war on their largest bank.

Give Endeavor time. Give the system time to work. It'd be too obvious if you went after them. You're a student, Hitoshi. Be a student, go to classes. Nezu's almost certainly found out about it by now... let them cook.

I was trying, but the temptation was growing.

The urge to burn a sizable portion of the system down.

“Another month,” I vowed to myself. “If they don't make progress in another month, I take action. Three months is long enough to see something happen. Even if she's not out by then, something should be happening.”

In the meantime, I would continue moving in the shadows.

Corporate cutouts, shell companies, accruing contacts and people who could act on my behalf, individuals who would leap at the chance to get ahead in life, online advocates for financial advice...

Right now, they were listening skeptically to a complete unknown, but with each accurate prediction, my [Star_Watcher] account grew in its following. A dozen other sock-puppets parroting the insightful advice magnifying it further.

It would take a miracle to get my mother out of prison, I knew.

Of course, I also knew that miracles took a lot of prep work.

And a lot of money. A truly incredible amount of money, all of it stolen and laundered through a dozen countries and held in foreign accounts until the time grew right. Miracles also usually needed blackmail, too, say... the type that you could get from an aging yakuza lord and all of his personal files before the police managed to seize them. Or the files of a major drug cartel operating a distribution hub in Tokyo. Or perhaps even a few dozen illegally-hacked high-profile emails.

Yes, I'd needed them to collect the lists for my current project tracking down Garaki, but as long as I had one foot in the door, I might as well pick up more actionable intelligence.

And, of course, miracles needed massive amounts of computational power and the insight into the mechanics of fate itself to properly put into place.

Miracles, as it turned out, were a lot of hard fucking work.

Probably why they were so rare.

Then, my bedroom door opened, and I pushed my conspiracies away with the ease of long practice. Himiko stood there, backlit against the hallway light, wearing a high-cut yukata that stopped at her mid-thigh. It was blood red with golden sakura blossoms artfully glimmering in the half-light.

“Husband...” Himiko whispered, a jittery tension running through her body.

Am I doing this right? Is this what he wants? Will he get rid of me if I'm not good enough?

Old worries that she usually kept buried, bubbling to the surface now.

I smiled at her, “Come to bed, Himiko.”

She released an almost imperceptible sigh, sliding the door closed behind her as she approached the bed. A subtle motion from me had her sitting in my lap a moment later, holding her close. One hand reached up and guided her into another kiss, slow and gentle.

Passion would come later, reassurance was needed right now.

And, like with most things for Himiko, words meant little to her. Action meant much more.

“I love you,” I whispered, pulling away from her slightly, but pushing into her with my quirk.

Himiko locked up in my arms, the hissing squeal of a teakettle erupting from her as her face went as red as her yukata.

Well, okay... words still meant something to her, I suppose.

Certain specific words.

I took advantage of her being off-kilter to fall back onto the bed while simultaneously spinning us. That left me on top of her, pinned by my arms at her sides, and her body pressed into the voluminous bedding below her.

Her eyes were wide, dilated, and her face slack as she panted for breath.

I knew well enough what she wanted not to press her for answers.

Parts of me that had once been the millennia-old sidereal turned in concert with the much younger psychic, feeling out threads of pleasure and potential reactions. Here, within my domain, my powers could be leveraged as they should be and I had essence to burn. Was it more than a little silly to use my bootleg reality warper powers in order to give my girlfriend/wife a good first time?

Yes. Yes, it was.

Was I still going to do it?

Oh, absolutely.

Himiko moaned, screamed, and called my name loud enough that, were it not for her thighs acting as ear protection, I might have gone deaf. In the end, I pinned her to the bed, railed her hard enough that the bed bounced a foot in the air, and left her gasping and glassy-eyed as we cuddled in the warm afterglow.

“Mmm... love my husband,” she whispered dreamily.

“Love you too, wife,” I hummed in reply.

~~~

This one was hard to write, for some reason. Not really sure why, it just dragged on.

Anyway... mostly just some domestic stuff with Himiko and Hitoshi after school.

Trying to get back to more of Hitoshi's off-the-books shenanigans, so we'll be seeing less of the school crowd for a bit. They won't be completely absent, but definitely fading into the background for a bit.

In the meantime... well, Hitoshi's got a few plans cooking.

Next update will likely be more Butler Boy.

Butler Boy - Chapter 13

Algernon sighed. “I'm just saying, squirt, that if Mom or Dad had been the one to find you? You'd be in pretty deep crap right now.”

I sighed as I rubbed my head while I leaned against the table, Mom and Dad vigorously discussing a subject – legally distinct from arguing about it – in the other room. In particular, they were going over the last few questions that Lois was going to be allowed to ask during her interview, which was a point of contention on some specific subjects. Dad was wary of going too deep into detail about the legal aspects that weren't finalized yet and Mom didn't want a reporter's probing to open up any emotional wounds regarding the incident.

Both valid, not necessarily mutually-exclusive, but since I wanted to give the interview I had to talk about something and either saw the other's topic as the lesser one to sacrifice.

No raised voices or anything like that, just strong opinions about what was best for the family.

“I know, I know... and thanks for covering for me,” I stated again, knowing he didn't like to make even the slightest tactical omissions about the truth.

“Don't mention it,” Algie stated, but then gave me a pointed elbow as we reclined on the sofa together. “But, and remember this, I'm totally going to rat you out if you keep passing out in the middle of the woods like that. You fall over the wrong way, Arden, and you take a stick to the gut or the neck.”

I opened my mouth to reply that I had a power for that, but... thought better of it at the last second. I knew that wasn't the real issue, anyway, and intentionally missing the point like that would just encourage Algie to believe that I wasn't mature enough to handle this shit – largely – on my own, as I had been.

“I'll be more careful,” I promised him instead, nodding solemnly. “It's really only the huge skill downloads that get me like that. Probably caused by an inflammation of gray matter due to the influx of memories. That would explain why activating my recovery power lessens the pain, but doesn't dampen the increased neural load. Next time I get a minor skill, I'll need to test a healing spell and see if that alleviates what's most likely a phantom sensation caused by-”

Algernon put me in a headlock.

“Hey, ass!” I hissed, automatically fighting him.

“You know, I didn't want to believe it-” Algie dodged one of my playfully-clumsy counterattacks, chuckling. “-but you really do have a medical degree shoved in that head of yours now, don't you? You're like, the mega-nerd to end all nerds... and that's coming from a guy who drives a Delorean.”

“Jeez,” I grunted, finally throwing him off. “And it's not a medical degree. It's literally fucking dozens. Like, I can do brain surgery, I can diagnose stomach cancer, I can do triage, I know pharmacology, how to read x-rays and MRI results, I know dietician stuff and sports medicine, and so much more. That's why I passed out, I didn't just have a decade of academic and practical knowledge shoved into my head. I had... I don't know – a few centuries?”

Algie blinked in shock, leaning back as I rubbed at my tired eyes.

“Damn,” he muttered, reaching up to scratch at the shitty 'beard' he was trying to grow. Charitably, one could call it a work in progress. “Damn. That's... I don't even know what that is.”

“I'm basically the most qualified medical professional on the planet... short of some crazy super-doctor that's stayed out of the spotlight or something,” I muttered with a too-casual shrug. I felt something at the revelation of what I'd acquired through complete luck, but I hadn't had time to fully unpack the mass of feelings yet.

“Man... and I was worried about that stealth stuff that I know,” Algernon replied, snorting. “But I guess since you aren't going to be competing against regular doctors for points or whatever, it's not as big of a deal that way.”

I frowned. “What do you mean? Is the stealth stuff... causing problems with your football thing?”

Algernon grimaced and waggled a hand. “I mean, not really... it's, well... if anything it's made me better at it. I see ambushes-ugh, counter-plays coming easier, now. I know how to dip and weave to avoid people coming at me, how to break line of sight and have this weird feeling when someone's on my tail without even looking.”

“Huh, cool,” I nodded, seeing how that would work. “I don't really... see the problem, though?”

Algie snorted, “Yeah, I guess the super doctor wouldn't.”

I frowned, narrowing my gaze at the shade of bitterness and irritation in that response. I took a breath and released the spark of irritation that bubbled up inside me. Getting pissed off wouldn't help right now. “I don't guess I would... not unless you explain it to me.”

Algie turned to look at me sharply, then grimaced again and looked away. “It's like... isn't this cheating?”

“Ah,” I breathed, understanding washing over me. “Okay... gimme a minute to think about what I should say?”

Algernon blinked, but nodded, “Sure. I mean, if you've got an answer, I'd love to hear it, squirt.”

I hummed again and let my thoughts spin as I considered the matter. “Okay, so... if Mom and Dad were an income bracket or two higher and wanted to get you a professional dietician, a personal fitness coach, and a home gym setup... would you call that cheating?”

Algie snorted, rolling his eyes. “That's not the same thing, Ardie.”

“It is so the same thing, Algie,” I replied, my tone deliberately childish. “Those are advantages other kids wouldn't have due to what's fundamentally a factor of luck. They were born into the right family at the right time and that gave them a competitive edge that someone without money has to work harder to overcome.”

“But it's not cheating,” my brother shook his head, seemed caught out for words for a moment, then pressed ahead. “And it's not like you can't do your own research or improvise gym equipment or whatever.”

“But it's a poor substitute for what enough money can get you,” I replied, then waved him off as he was about to reply. “But that's not really what I'm getting at. The point I'm trying to make is that cheating is when you directly or indirectly break the rules of the game – either while the game's being played or outside of the game by using steroids or illegal performance enhancers, right?”

“I feel like you're doing that thing where you lead me into a trap,” Algie admitted, his gaze narrow as he stared me down. “But, for the sake of argument, yeah.”

Part of me wanted to make the rather asinine point that there 'weren't no rule' about getting sudden skill dumps from a chaos engine ex nihilo.

But that was, as aforementioned, pretty asinine to bring up and just plain unhelpful.

Instead, I approached it from a different angle.

“Those rules are meant to create a semblance of fairness in competition,” I continued on, “but there are factors that the rules can't anticipate or even pretend to moderate. Just for instance, the rules can't control inborn talent for the sport, genetic traits responsible for muscle-building or response times, or even something as mundane as how much money your parents have and what advantages they can afford to give you.”

Conflict warred over my brother's face and he pulled an ugly look that reflected his internal disagreement. “Okay, I agree in principle, sure. But this and that are totally different things. You can't really argue that winning some kind of magical lottery is the same thing as having rich parents.”

I made a non-committal noise. “It's a matter of scope and scale, not necessarily of composition. And, if you don't believe me, tell me with a straight face that you don't think pro-athletes would start making deals with the devil if it got them special skills or whatever.”

Absently, I resolved that was probably already happening on some scale.

“Sure, enough football players get caught doing steroids or coke or meth or whatever every year that I can't disagree that they'd go after magic as a way to make them better, too,” Algie replied, holding up a hand. “But that's the thing. I don't want to be like that. I don't want to break the rules just to win. Playing fair – or at least as close to it as we can get – is what makes the game fun. Victory doesn't matter if you don't have to work for it.”

I felt myself smiling.

God, I can't believe I just heard someone give an authentic shounen sports anime speech and really mean it. Holy shit.

“And you aren't,” I smirked, catching Algie off-guard.

“But-” He started and I shook my head.

“You got one of my powers – skills – whatever, by accident, Algie.” I emphasized the circumstances as I stared him down. “And you haven't tried to bug me for another one since. Once you understood what happened, you didn't want any part of it, that makes you completely different than them.”

My brother sighed and leaned back in the sofa. “I mean, thanks for the vote of confidence, I guess? But that still doesn't do anything for the unfair advantage I already have. Unless you've got a way to take it back?”

I paused, then shook my head. “Not that I know of, but... if it really bothers you, think of it like this, okay? The whole cover story for how I got so good at art, all of a sudden? The human brain is a strange beast, Algie. And I should know, I'm a doctor.”

Algernon blinked, then snorted so hard he almost folded in on himself. “Ha! Ugh, that was awful. Another one like that and I'm putting you back in the headlock.”

“Duly noted,” I nodded, then popped my neck as I – oh shit, I was a chiropractor too now, wasn't I? I shoved the intrusive thought away for the moment. “However, back to my point... you could entirely develop acquired savant syndrome from a concussion or something similar which, granted, isn't precisely the same thing, but it isn't too far off.”

“Hmm,” my brother grunted, rubbing at his chin and nodding slowly. “So what you're saying is that as long as I don't try to get more unfair advantages, having just this one is okay?”

“What I'm actually saying is that 'fairness' as a social construct is incredibly subjective and that most contests of 'skill' are actually decided by a number of predetermined factors prior to anyone ever taking the field to compete. The fact that you now have an advantage that some people would consider unfair is an arbitrary judgment on their part to make themselves feel better when, if they lost, they would find something else to blame for it rather than their own lack of skill, preparedness, or whatever...” I paused, catching my breath after getting all of that out in a rush. “But, yeah sure, if you want to think of it like that, rock on and get down with your bad self.”

Algie snorted again, more controlled this time, but still smiling. After a long moment, he sighed and nodded. “Alright, that... well, that helps, at least. It still bothers me, but... some of what you said makes sense and puts it into perspective. Thanks, Arden.”

“No problem, Algie,” I nodded back, relaxing and-

I blinked, pulling out the slip of bronze paper from my pocket.

“Huh, really?” Algernon asked, leaning over. “Did you get one earlier, after that, uh… ticket you got for a week’s worth of exercise or whatever? And just forgot to... wait, what's that say?”

I took a sharp breath through my nose as I read it off, trying desperately not to break out laughing. “Fraternal Cranial-Rectal Removal Surgery.”

Algie stared at me for a moment, his mouth silently agape.

“I mean,” I stated slowly, still trying not to laugh, “it's only a bronze? So I guess your head couldn't have been too far up your-”

“That's it,” my brother grunted, reaching over and dragging me back into the headlock. “I'll give you cranial-rectal whatever!”

“Hey, watch it!” I laughed, finally breaking down. “The surgery was a success! I might have just saved your life, bro! I am a-”

“Don't say it!” Algie groaned.

“-doctor after all!” I cackled.

“AAAAAAAAHHHH!” Algernon cried, trying desperately to drown out the nonsense coming out of my mouth.

Eventually, Mom came in and broke us up, the ruckus having grown louder than their energetic discussion at the kitchen table.

…

“So this is what you used to cut the hinges off?” Lois Sullivan asked, looking over the hunk of wires and metal, then cocked her head. “You know, I'm not even sure I actually know what a lathe is?”

“It's...” I hesitated, then nodded. “Think of it like a pottery wheel for wood, but you turn it on its side instead of keeping it upright.”

Dad blinked, squinting and opening his mouth before closing it slowly, like he wanted to disprove my assertion, but couldn't come up with a way to.

Cereal is a soup, old man!

“Huh, okay... that makes sense,” Lois muttered, actually making a note of the explanation on her pad. Which... honestly, she was lucky was I was fourteen and had a girlfriend. This woman was honestly kind of a dumpster fire, and it was adorable. “I'm kind of surprised that you still had power down there given everything else that got cut.”

I hummed thoughtfully. “Given what the vents looked like and how the water got capped, I think it might have been too much work to properly disconnect the wires down there and not create a really obvious fire hazard.”

“Oooh! Accusations of incompetence and negligence, I can work with that!” Lois grinned, making more notes.

Mom blinked rapidly, shaking her head in mild disbelief at the unprofessional behavior. At least it seemed to be sinking in why I'd agreed to this particular interview now.

Just can't kick the puppy.

“So, let's see...” Lois' eyes scanned down the page of her questions, apparently picking one at random. “Oh! How do you feel about your sudden twenty minutes of fame?”

“I'm hoping they're over, honestly,” I replied with a shrug. “Like... I appreciate that people are going to get appalled and disgusted by what happened, and they should, but I kind of hope that manifests into a larger pushback against bullying at schools and abuse in general rather than a sustained interest in what I'm going to be doing with my life moving forward.”

“So you don't like the attention?” She pressed, appearing genuinely curious. “I'd imagine most people your age would enjoy it, at least a little bit.”

I gave a dismissive grunt and shook my head. “I prefer not being recognized for something I had no control over. Being known as 'the kid who got locked in a fallout shelter,' even for a few weeks, hasn't been all that fun. If it was fame for something I actually did, then maybe...?”

I shrugged.

“That's a great tangent!” Lois grinned widely, pointing a finger at me with seemingly boundless energy. “So, talking about what you're going to be doing in the future... well, what are you aiming for in the future?”

“Now wait, that wasn't on the list-” Mom started, frowning.

“Honey, it's a softball question, leave it be,” Dad sighed, shaking his head, then turned to me. “Unless you have a problem with it, Arden?”

I shook my head, preoccupied with considering what the reporter had asked. “I guess... I'm kind of coming up with a plan? If that makes sense. I am thirteen, after all. Even if I've skipped a few years of school and I'm smarter than kids my age... I've never really applied myself all that much. I thought doing my best in school was kind of the high-point of my achievements.”

“It is very important you continue to get good grades,” Mom pointed out, and I snorted as Lois nodded with a smile on her face.

“My mom is the same way. She wants me in college instead of going straight into a career,” the tanned girl commented with a grin. “For what it's worth, I don't really know how things are going to line up, either... between the two, at least. What are you looking at right now, if it's not too much of an ask?”

“I'm thinking about inventing something that would have a really big impact on society,” I replied, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks as my parents smiled – surprised, but proud – at my declaration. “I've been reading my sister's college books and doing some research online... I think I might try my hand at artificial organs or artificial blood. Something like that.”

“I think that's a wonderful idea,” Mom smiled widely, reaching over to pull me to her side. “You could save a lot of lives with something like those inventions, Arden.”

“That's a pretty cool long-term goal, dude,” Lois grinned. “So you'll probably be going into the medical field for college?”

“His sister, Adelaide, is already in the pre-med track,” Dad nodded. “She's planning on going into nursing.”

I blinked... college? Who'd said anything about-

Oh, right.

I'd been trying to set things up a little bit so that my parents wouldn't be too shocked when I rolled out a world-shaking invention or something, but they thought I was talking about career options. Which, I couldn't really blame them. No shade on my past performance, but I really hadn't applied myself all that much. Outside of a few key subjects where I struggled anyway. Graphing never came all that naturally too me, but it was easier the second time around.

But it wasn't as though I was trying. Pre-bunker, my plan had been to live the slow life out in a personal hermitage, after all. You didn't really need all that many accolades to buy a plot of land out in the mountains and set up a hammock.

Am I... was I squandering this second chance?

I wanted to say I wasn't. Not in the face of millennial geniuses like Luthor out there. They were a lot more capable than I'd ever have been without a supernatural leg up, after all. But... that had been a trap I'd been too apathetic to avoid, these past several years.

No one should measure success by someone else's achievements.

You'd just get bitter, angry, and jealous.

So instead, I'd decided to just enjoy life. I'd taken things as they'd come, relaxed, and had a good childhood. Played with my siblings, relaxed during bright summer days, watched some cartoons... I'd deliberately avoided the implicit responsibility of 'being someone' by choosing a good – but basic – life. Not that I regretted it, but...

I'd need to live a different kind of way if I was going to be a hero.

I couldn't simply take life as it came to me anymore.

Even if I could change how I'd done things up until now, I wouldn't. Those were memories I treasured, but going forward...

“One minute,” I said suddenly, standing up from the table and running towards the stairs. A few moments later, and I was back, a handful of sketch papers in my hands. Spreading them out across the table, I ignored the startled and curious looks of my parents and the reporter. One, in particular, was something I'd done last night while unable to sleep. Dozens of medical doctorates swimming in my head, slowly meshing with my lesser – but still incredible – expertise with mechanics.

What had emerged was a mechanical heart, a completely new design using a circular pump that fed off the body heat of the person it was implanted in. The materials it was crafted out of alone would be revolutionary, specifically engineered to resist rejection and trick the body into accepting it as a native organ.

“I-I'm thinking that I can have the design finalized in a few weeks,” I explained, pointing at the exploded view of the parts and tapping it impatiently. Now, with the benefit of a few hours of sleep and a day occupied with other things, my fresh eyes could see mistakes I'd made and areas that had room for improvement. “Or, at least enough to start constructing models and looking at stress tests under laboratory conditions. That's nowhere near animal testing, though, and I don't think anything would actually be publicly available for a few years...”

Because as awesome as having the skills was, this wasn't precisely crazy magic tinkering or super-science bullshit. I needed to go through the standard iterations of design, prototyping, testing, redesign, repetition, and then I'd need to find someone crazy enough to believe that an artificial heart built by a teenager-

-in a cave, with a box of scraps!-

-would be a great thing to stake hundreds of thousands to millions of dollars on putting through legitimate animal testing trials and peer review by medical professionals. I'd say there'd be difficulty finding someone crazy enough to have the damn thing implanted in them, but between people generally being pretty crazy and organ transplant lists being as long as they were, that might be the easiest step in the entire process.

“Arden... how long did this all take you?” Dad asked slowly, staring at the paper he was holding in disbelief.

“About... a week?” I asked, fudging things a bit. The idea of cybernetics – of building an artificial organ or something – had occurred to me while Sebas and I were bullshitting about the Cyberpunk setting and I'd realized I could do it... with a lot of work, and a lot of supplemental studying. Not impossible, but easily a half-decade's work. So it'd been on my radar, at least.

But... yesterday's gacha pull had changed everything.

“C-can I take a few pictures? Or get copies?” Lois asked tentatively, looking anxious and excited all at once. “Only the ones you agree to, of course... wow these are beautiful.”

I mean, I would hope so. I’d put a lot of work into making them aesthetically pleasing while I was thinking through the designs. The need to do both kept me from getting ahead of myself and making obvious mistakes for the first iteration of the design.

“I, umm... I suppose?” Mom asked, taking a deep breath and staring at me in shock. “Arden... why didn't you tell us you were working on something like this?”

“I... wanted to see if it would pan out, first, before getting anyone excited,” I shook my head. “And I've had a bunch of ideas, so I was kind of sorting through them on which to prioritize.”

“What else are you working on?” Mom asked, her eyebrows rising.

“Uhh... I've got a preliminary design for a recycling sorter. A good one. Then there's a cleaner engine that I'm working on, too, but that's more complicated and it's still giving me some trouble. Let's see... I had an idea for some aerial drones, but that was more of a fun side project than anything else.” I shook my head, stopping myself from babbling further. “But that's just the invention stuff. I've also got some paintings I'm working on. Those aren't ready yet, though.”

“This article is going to make my career,” Loise whispered excitedly, even as my parents traded stunned glances.

Which, as it turned out... she was right. Or, at least, the gacha thought it would be the kind of interview which substantially changed her life, given I got a gold ticket out of it. I hoped she'd make the most of it, though... it probably wouldn't be the last time I saw Lois Sullivan, with my luck.

Although… exposing what I can do like this… is the life that I’ve changed my own?

~~~

I felt like I needed a bit of chaos in my life, evidently.

Maybe it's just because Arden is fun to write and I don't have to care about getting the characters precisely correct with how much whole-cloth I'm doing, but this was pretty easy.

Or maybe it was the fact that I actually took a day off and just chilled to recharge my batteries? Might be that.

Anyway... Mind Games is looking to take the top spot again this month. I'll probably work on that over the weekend.

TGIF! Hope everyone has a good weekend!

December Favoritism!

Okay, December is upon us!

Preemptively, I wish everyone a very happy holiday season under the specific celebration of their choice!

Now, for anyone new, this is pretty simple. Just vote for the project you want to see the most of this month and I'll make that happen. Next-most votes gets the next-most attention. I'm doing pretty well lately on keeping to those terms.

Let's see, anything else? Ah, I'm going to rotate New Ron out this month, since it just got a chapter and Nexus Event will be on the main poll for the month. Ron will reappear next month as per normal, though.

Entrepreneurial Spirit - Chapter 8

“Okay, that should do it,” I hummed thoughtfully, looking things over.

It was one of the larger ritual circles I'd created in my time. Interlocking and concentric circles of pure silver, inlaid into the ground itself while they were ringed with esoteric and cryptic text from a variety of worlds and cultures to bind and contain entities of unimaginable power. I'd also laid in empty tracks to hold the salt lines, placed separate barriers around the braziers that had just been lit, and then did a mirror of the barrier work on the ceiling.

“Wow,” Luz stated as she joined me in checking the setup. “This is... a lot more than we've studied in school.”

“It's a lot more than they teach at Hexside,” Amity breathed, her eyes wide as she swallowed. “I've sat in on a few high-level lessons, back when I was trying for the Emperor's Coven, but even they didn't do anything like this.”

Her gold eyes snapped towards me, magenta hair swaying with the motion. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“Nothing at this level of magic is entirely safe,” I replied candidly. “This is, in fact, very dangerous. But learning how to do something that's inherently dangerous in a way that is as safe as possible is a significant part of magic training. Take note of that, Izuku!”

“Ah, yes sir!” The greenette cried, snapping to attention. “Safety first!”

Luz giggled and Amity huffed slightly.

“How much is this putting Luz out, anyway?” The more savvy of the two girls asked, looking back over the various materials used, the gigantic room it had taken to house all of it, and the stores of power-dampening incense I'd stocked up on. “This has to be expensive.”

“Honestly? This kind of setup is multi-use, so I can write some of it off as an investment,” I stated thoughtfully, running the numbers in my head. “And I already had most of the materials in backstocks, so... with all of the samples and materials Luz and your group have gotten me from the Boiling Isles already, I'd say we're even.”

Amity opened her mouth to argue.

“Not counting the vial of Titan's Blood,” I preempted her. “That's worth... a lot. Even using a single drop as a focus for this summoning ritual is probably overkill. Odds are, we could just put the damn thing in the room and the whole ritual would work just fine.”

“So why not do that? If it's so valuable?”

“Because using part of the mortal remains of the subject you're summoning grounds the spirit to the material plane in a way that virtually nothing else will,” Amity stated firmly, nodding at me respectfully... then pausing. “Though, that might not be such a good thing, especially if we're summoning a Titan. The Titan, even.”

She shivered, and Luz reached out for her hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Amity took a deep breath. “Just... if the Day of Unity weren't coming up, I'd never be okay with this. It's... completely insane, even by the standards of your usual stunts, Luz.”

“I get that,” Luz nodded, looking briefly disheartened before solidifying her resolve. “But... the more I think about it, the more the Titan might be the key to all of this. The detector Nova loaned my mom, the spells I gave her... it barely registered anything in the human world, at least around Gravesfield. But when Mom started circling the container of blood? Suddenly magic.”

Amity grimaced, but nodded. “A lot of the old faiths of the Isles says that we owe magic to the Titan, that it's his gift to all of his children. I just never really thought they were being quite that literal.”

I kept my mouth shut while they were figuring things out.

It wasn't as if I couldn't confirm their guesswork was correct. In actuality, I knew for a fact that it was.

But I couldn't just out-and-out tell them. That was information I knew they didn't have and would dramatically change their lives and fortunes going forwards. More than that, it could mean the difference between life and death for members of their group. In other words, that made the answers they were hypothesizing about very, very valuable.

In some ways, it was essentially asking to borrow answers to their current problems from a future timeline I'd seen.

The frustration was two-fold, on my part.

Beyond the fact that I couldn't help them without trading for the knowledge, I also couldn't just directly proposition them for the sale. They had to ask. Why? Probably because some bright spark who'd been in my shoes had figured out a workaround and had the loophole snap shut on them as a result.

For all that the store was semi-sentient, it didn't exactly keep records between owners, so I was kind of on my own when it came to piecing things together from before my time.

I blinked, jerking slightly as I felt a customer enter the store.

“Ah, I'll need a moment. A few of my regulars have appeared,” I smiled at the girls apologetically. “It shouldn't take all that long.”

“Oooh! Can we come with?” Luz asked, excitement bubbling up.

“Luz!” Amity hissed, blushing slightly.

“What?” The human frowned. “Mark and his family were super nice and it was fun meeting them! You should never turn down an opportunity to make new friends, right?”

I hesitated, then decided not to speak up.

I could warn them off, but Luz was headstrong enough to disregard it, and any warning would be taken as an attempt to cover up something instead of simply spare them an unpleasant experience.

“Izuku, this trio is coming from a medieval China variant,” I sighed, turning towards him. “You know what that means, right?”

“Chi-na?” Amity muttered, frowning at Luz, who raised a finger to her lips.

Izuku, on the other hand, pulled an uncharacteristic grimace and looked away. “R-right. I-I'll run interference, sir.”

“Interference?” Amity asked, pressing the issue with a frown. “What's going on? I thought all of your customers were barred from committing violence on each other.”

I shook my head and sighed as I walked towards where I felt them looking about. They'd appeared, as usual, in one of the more rustic areas of the store. Even if Amity appeared more confident in these areas than in the more futuristic ones she and Luz had toured out of curiosity, she was still as tight as a coiled spring in light of the change in the meeting's tempo.

“Luz, do you happen to know anything of ancient or medieval China?” I asked, my tone conversational to lower the anxiety in the hall.

“Uhh... not much?” Luz muttered, frowning. “I was never big into Three Kingdoms stuff.”

“Sengoku Jidai nerd?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Samurai and ninja are way too mainstream these days,” Luz shook her head, then grinned. “I was a Persia-boo! Archaemenid Empire for the win!”

I stared at the girl for a long moment. “Your hobby is finding molds and breaking them, isn't it?”

Luz just grinned and giggled.

“Uhh... what's this... Archy-archee-ah...” Amity stuttered and tripped on the name.

“Arch-ae-menid Empire,” Luz pronounced carefully and slowly. “It was a multi-ethnic political organization that stretched across three of the large landmasses in the human world about two and a half thousand years ago. It was crazy-advanced from a logistical and bureaucratic standpoint. They had a civil service, a professional army and navy, and religious tolerance that eclipsed almost every other nation, state, or empire in history up until the modern age. Heck, they even outlawed-”

Amity blinked as Luz jerked, her gaze snapping towards me. “Luz, what's wrong?”

“You said... they were from medieval-period China?” Luz asked weakly, grimacing.

I sighed heavily. “They're a better world-line than some. The previous Empress-Regnant has formally freed all slaves and criminalized the practice.”

For a moment, I let that pronouncement hang, then added, “Officially.”

Luz clicked her tongue and looked away. “Right.”

“Whoa-whoa-whoa!” Amity cried, looking between myself and Luz. “Humans keep slaves?”

“De-developed nations don't!” Luz squeaked out, ducking her head. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Amity asked, her eyes wide.

“Human nations and empires throughout history have kept some manner of bonded labor, it's true,” I replied to Amity, cutting through the pending argument and wondering when the store would finally let us get where we were going. Probably not until this got hashed out. On occasion, it decided it needed to put a finger on the scales of what was happening, usually by manipulating the layout of things.

Though, the other end of that 'favor' it was paying forward was that whoever had just entered had come with valuable trade goods.

Something – or someone – it wanted.

And I knew enough not to ignore the feeling I was getting from my connection with the ethereal realm I oversaw.

If I tried to fight it, I'd probably have a lot less leeway when I wanted to give out food or tools using my little tricks.

“You'd probably be familiar with the way that modern nations justify it, too,” I commented. “Belos seems familiar enough with slave labor via the inmates his government convicts. That's an old, old human tactic. As long as someone's guilty of something, no one cares what's done to them.”

“Right,” Amity nodded, sighing. “Because Belos is human. It's still strange to think of him like that. He's been alive and ruling the Isles for hundreds of years, everyone thought he really had the Titan's favor. That kind of power isn't something that most witches ever achieve.”

I hummed, not sure if Amity would actually know or not.

One of the first things a tyrant did was selectively prune the history books, after all.

I looked over to where Izuku was following, thoughtfully silent. At the weight of my gaze, his head snapped up and he drew in a quick breath. “Nova, sir? Something the matter?”

“I feel like we're almost here. Just remember what your job is,” I nodded at him. “And that, if you really want to run the store while I take a vacation, you'll need to deal with some of this.”

Izuku twitched and looked away, nodding absently. “Yessir.”

He's been here for... almost a year now. I suppose he might be feeling the store push him a little, too. Yeah, kid, this isn't all fun and games.

I threw open the final set of doors and put on a plastic smile as I saw the three men standing around with a large woven basket.

“Fox Lord!” The foremost one said, stepping forward and bowing respectfully. “We've come to bargain.”

The other two followed his lead, dipping lowly into bows as I refrained from sighing and dipped into my own – much lesser – bow. “Be welcome in my store. The boy is my assistant, the women are customers and guests from a distant land. Their mode of dress and speech is foreign, know that their presence does not mean offense, it is just their way.”

The one in a tattered blue jack, the leader, rose up and scratched at his stubble as his eyes lingered momentarily on Amity and Luz, something between lust and disgust flitting across his face before his eyes tracked back to me and noted my narrowed gaze.

“Barbarians will be barbarians,” he nodded.

“Barbarians-” Amity hissed, her temper rising, but I cut her off with a wave of my hand.

“Just as you are guests and customers, so are they,” I told her seriously. “Their customs are their own, no matter how disagreeable they are to you. Keep your peace if you do not want to interact with them.”

Stepping forward, I once again donned my customer service smile as I opened my hands wide and snapped a more traditional robe for their time and place over my body, the cloth manifesting in a shimmer of light. The blatant act of magic drew both their attention and their respect, an implicit reminder that I could take supernatural action against them if I felt it was warranted.

“Noble Fox Lord and Great Merchant,” the leader cleared his throat and waved to the woven basket at his side. “We come with a laborer to bargain her services. She is our cousin and has disgraced the family, but may still be of use in generating income for her people. We had thought to sell her labor to the palace as a maid, but wish to give you fight of first refusal. As patrons of your establishment, we understand that not doing so would be a sign of disrespect.”

“Very well, let us see what you have brought to my store,” I waved them off and stepped up to the woven cage large enough to fit a young girl.

The leader of the gang of kidnappers – I wasn't a moron, thank you very much – lifted off the lid of the container in what he felt was probably a grand gesture to unveil their hostage.

Royal-blue eyes stared up at me for a long moment, and I knew what they saw as they widened slowly. Curiously, they'd left her mouth completely unobstructed, allowing her to form a small 'oh' of disbelief as they took in the orange-haired fox-man looming over her.

I could see the instant she realized this wasn't a dream, her body jerking as if she'd been electrocuted. “Ah!”

I held up a single clawed finger and pressed it to my lips wordlessly, my eyes tracing along her dull green hair tied up with blue fabric, a trailing lock of hair on either side with small beads on them. The pink Chinese-cut peasant's robe she was wearing atop a long skirt made of more muted brown material. All of it was rough-hewn and patched in various places with off-color thread. Still, she was cute, beautiful even, if one accounted for the fact that she had deliberately speckled tiny pieces of clay onto her face as a primitive cosmetic to imitate freckles and pockmarks.

My ears shifted and her eyes flicked up to lock onto them.

Briefly, I wanted to refuse them. To tell them to take their slave-trading bullshit out of my store and anywhere else.

But that wasn't the deal I'd made. Those weren't the terms I lived by.

“How much are you asking?” I turned to the bandit instead.

He bowed again, “We know that the Fox Lord and Great Merchant offers respectable deals and sells goods that are hard to acquire among our lands. We had hoped to sell her labor for as long as you wish to have it. In exchange, perhaps...”

He hesitated visibly, not wanting to offend me or get a lower price than he could.

“...a quarter of a small chest of the dreaming drug for each month's wages?” He asked tentatively.

I hummed, turning to look at the bound girl still in her basket-cage.

“I will, instead, offer a fifth of a small chest, but of something more potent than the flower's extract,” I stated. “That way, you might cut it with lesser herbs and those you sell it to will not be able to tell.”

He perked up at that, turning to look at his friends before freezing. “I-I would not think to debase-”

“Peace,” I stated, holding up a hand. “I am not unaware of how mortals do business in the lesser realms.”

If my eyes strayed to meet the girl's and give her a meaningful nod, then that was just chance. “I care not for what business you conduct yourselves by outside of my store. Do we have a deal?”

The three hesitated... then the two others behind him nodded.

“Very well. Assistant, cut the girl's bonds,” I ordered Izuku, then turned to the girl. “You are bound within the store, do not attempt to leave or there will be consequences.”

She flinched, then nodded jerkily.

“Now, come. I will get you your drugs and instruct you on their proportions. Beware, this powder is much more powerful than what you are used to working with. Here are the instructions you must abide by...”

It took some time to run through the use and measurements of the wooden-cased block of white powder, but eventually they took their bounty and left happily.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair as they were gone and the door shut behind him.

There was a moment of silence as the four teens looked at each other. Well, no. Izuku was studiously staring at a wall and trying to not make it obvious that he was sneaking glances at other green-haired teen. Luz and Amity, on the other hand, were pinned down in a... rather heated discussion, practically hissing at each other.

“-Luz, I just don't think we can trust this guy!”

“I mean, I get it, but Eda's done... well, okay, she's done the drug deals, but I've never seen her buy a sentient being – well, except for that one time with the pixies. Do they count? I've never been sure.”

I cleared my throat pointedly and both girls jolted, turning to look at me.

“Part of the agreement I make as the shopkeeper is that I can't turn down a good-faith sale or purchase,” I explained. “And when I say 'can't,' I mean that I lack the ability to. The store will inflict pain and cripple my abilities until I comply. As long as a customer comes in here seeking to buy or sell goods honestly, I can't refuse them. Which, yes, is magically-enforced.”

Amity clicked her tongue and frowned. “This sounds more like a curse than a job.”

“They're actually pretty similar, if I understand my Mom's work schedule correctly,” Luz interjected.

I opened my mouth... then closed it and shook my head. “Yeah, sure, that works. Now... let's talk about my new...”

The Chinese girl's head dipped as she bowed, her sleeves connected as she put one hand atop the other and put the combined length of her forearms between us in a formal bow. “This humble one will serve in any capacity she is called upon, Great Spirit.”

I sighed deeply. “Name?”

She twitched. “...respectfully, Great One, the legends of this humble one's people have told her not to give her name to beings of power and magic.”

“Why didn't I think of that?” Luz asked, frowning.

“Uhh... Miss, it's really not like that,” Izuku stated. “This is Nova Sterling. We just run the store, here. W-we might have magic and stuff, but we're not expecting you to worship us or anything! We're mostly just normal people, I swear!”

“It will be as the Great One's Assistant wishes,” she stated, not having risen from her bow.

“Okay then,” I sighed again. “Maomao.”

Another twitch, but her resolve was brutal as Izuku blinked in... mild surprise. I'd pulled off enough bullshit in front of the kid that he knew better than to ask how I pulled a trick like this.

“You can read and write?” I asked, treating it like a question.

“Yes, Great One,” Maomao replied.

“Do you know a trade?” I pressed further.

She paused, then dipped her head a little lower. “This one has some mediocre skill in handling medicines and poisons.”

I waited for a moment to see if there was anything else, then nodded. “Alright, rise. I'll show you to my pharmacy – the room where I store herbs, poultices, and other medical supplies.”

The word 'pharmacy' hadn't exactly translated correctly, and the confusion was obvious, before her eyes lit up in realization and no small excitement.

“You will work there to earn your keep. Today, simply familiarize yourself with the rules of the area that I will supply to you, consider if you have any questions, and ensure you understand the layout. You are not to handle any medicines, open any sealed containers, or leave your assigned area. Am I understood?”

She dipped her head again. “This humble one understands.”

“I will take over training you tomorrow once I have finished my business today,” I instructed her. “If you finish your assigned tasks before I return, you may sit and rest or read one of the medical texts stored in the room. Afterwards, I will show you to the bathing quarters and your sleeping area.”

“This humble one understands.”

Knowing I wasn't going to get anything else out of her in the short-term, I simply turned to open the nearby door we'd come in through, finding the pharmacy on the other side and showing her into the expansive space. “If you become thirty, there are small cups and you may drink from the silver faucet near the sink. You should also wash your hands thoroughly and dry them before handling anything in here. Should you need to relieve yourself, there is a... waste-pot with a switch to cleanse it using running water. It is stored in that room-”

I pointed at the bathroom, and she nodded as her wide eyes rapidly took in everything.

“Busy yourself until I return,” I waved her off and walked back through the door, shutting it behind myself. I hadn't asked if she was hungry, but that could wait at least a few hours as long as she had plenty of water.

“Sir, what are we going to do...” Izuku asked plaintively, wringing his hands.

I waved him off. “I'll take care of it. I'm familiar with her type.”

“If you're sure,” Izuku whined, looking back at the door I'd just come through.

“I'm sure,” I replied, then clapped my hands loudly. “Okay! Now that that's over, let's go on to something much simpler and less morally-objectionable!”

“Woo! Time to summon a dead elder god!” Luz shouted, throwing her hands up in excitement.

Izuku and Amity stared at her in disbelief.

I crossed my arm and gave her a level glare. “I can't decide if I'm psyched that we're on the same page or pissed that you stole my punchline.”

Luz just giggled bashfully, looking far too proud of herself. Then she paused. “So, umm… they were trying to trade for opium, right? What’d you give them?”

I snorted. “Something powerful enough that, should they get too much on their skin, they’ll die from an overdose.  I did warn them, however.”

Amity narrowed her eyes, then tracked to where the door had been moments ago, before nodding judiciously. Luz just met my gaze and gave a tight little smile that showed more than a few teeth.

Because, as much as I was limited by my duties, there were still loopholes I could exploit, if one could call them that. Upselling was practically a duty of a retail salesman, after all. I couldn’t exactly sell someone on a piece of shit like some shady used car salesman, though. The product had to be genuine and my warnings had to be sincere and complete.

But, at the end of the day, it was the buyer’s duty to be sure of what they were receiving.

Any… mishandling of my products outside of the confines of the store just weren’t my problem.

I had a feeling Maomao wouldn’t mind all that terribly, either.

…

Comparatively speaking, calling up this particular dead eldritch god was actually a lot easier than dealing with Maomao would be, I knew.

Honestly, when it came to someone who hadn't yet passed on, was willing to respond to the summons, and wasn't even attempting to break the bindings, this was a cakewalk.

The only reason I'd rolled out such elaborate safeguards for the ritual, in fact, was because the Titan’s very presence as the ancient soul manifested was stressing some of my most powerful wards and runic circles.

As the wispy ghost of energy began sliding into my little corner of reality, it began to take shape, slowly forming into a leathery-winged monster with a bony skull for a face and a single gleaming yellow eye. The other one was dark and empty, a long and sinuous worm poking its head out and wriggling slowly. It's body was... an open bathrobe, a shade darker than the rest of his body, a heavy gut paunch sagging in a pink T-shirt that had a picture of a younger Eda Clawthorn riding her staff, reading 'Bad Girl Coven' beneath a overlarge beard that hadn't been trimmed in a great while. His pants were a plain black affair with various colorful magic circles stenciled on them.

Despite all that, the magic in the air bore the weight of ages, heavy with the promise of sleeping power.

“Ah... I have to say I'd hoped something like this would happen when I felt you connect to my world,” the Titan stated, reaching out to scratch at his gut with a clawed hand.

“Y-you... you look just like...” Luz started slowly, her eyes widening.

“King? My son?” The Titan laughed merrily. “Yes, Luz, and I'm grateful for what you've done for my boy. Grateful beyond words.”

“K-King is a...” Amity whispered.

The Titan chuckled again. “Yes, Amity, he is. Though please don't bow down before him, my boy's got a big enough head on his shoulders at the moment, I don't think it needs any inflating. But, I'm glad you're in his life as well. You've done good work turning your own around in the last few months.”

“Th-thank you,” Amity bowed lowly.

“Soooo~Coool,” Luz whispered gleefully.

“I try,” the Titan nodded, then turned to me. “Now... Nova Sterling, wasn't it? I've seen a few like you come and go... usually the latter, making deals they can't or won't follow through on. The beast you serve is a hungry one indeed, more ravenous than even I was in my youth.”

I grinned, “Capitalism can be like that, yes. It's a pleasure to meet you, Titan of the Boiling Isles.”

“A pleasure to meet you as well,” he nodded, reaching up to stroke his beard. “Now... I think you called me up to make a deal, didn't you?”

“Eighty percent of the remaining blood and bile in your heart goes to Luz,” I opened bluntly. “Ten percent remains with you in whatever body we agree to manifest for you. The remaining ten percent goes to me as a finder's fee and for facilitation of this transaction.”

Luz and Amity both gasped.

“Hmm...” The Titan considered, squinting his eye at me. “Fifty percent to Luz, contingent on her agreeing to kill that pit-stain Belos. Thirty five percent to Amity, so that my new adopted daughter won't be alone in a century. Ten percent to you, and five percent to me for my body.”

I blinked, cocking my head and turning to the girls. “That sound good to you two?”

Their opened jaws worked silently.

I taken one look at him and known it would end this way. Whatever realm between life and death he'd been trapped in, he could look out and see the world through the black abyss of death. And when you stepped beyond life, when you closed that door behind you, time became a lot more malleable.

We both knew how things were going to end.

~~~

So, Thanksgiving ate more time than I was expecting, and then some friends wanted to do some holiday stuff on Sunday and I was just dead tired after that.

But, here it is! The last chapter for November!

Anyway, I'll have the polls for December up in a bit.

Thank you again for your patience and support! I couldn't do this without you and it's great to see so many people enjoying a lot of the stuff coming out lately!

As far as the next update... not sure. I'll go crash and think it over.

Until then, have a great week!

Butler Boy - Chapter 12

“Did I do the right thing?”

Sebas snorted as he leaned against the park bench. “Hell if I know, man. You're the one who's always navel-gazing lately.”

I hummed in agreement. “My apologies, I am beset upon all sides by moral quandaries.”

My friend snickered, his shoulders shaking briefly. “Eh, no problem, man. You've still got that wit, so I figure you're okay.”

There was a moment of silence as we watched the kids in the park play. It was after school had ended for the day, though I'd pulled a half-day to have my meeting with the ADA. As a very important person with important things to do, he couldn't be assed to hang around a vacation town's police station until after classes let out for the day. But, hey, everyone wanted to clock off and get home at a reasonable time, so it wasn't like I objected to getting pulled out of school at lunch for someone else's convenience.

“You wanna' talk about it?” Sebas asked, apropos of nothing.

I grunted, the mutually-intelligible primitive dialect shared by all teenage boys allowing me to automatically be understood by my cohort.

“Eh, just figured something was on your shoulders,” he shrugged again, minutely. “What with all the staring into space and everything.”

The two silver tickets in my pocket felt a lot heavier than they were.

But... no. For the same reasons I didn't tell Astrid. Family was one thing. Friends were another. I felt a lot more sure of Sebastian than I did of any of my scouting buddies, even – especially – Mike. Sebas just... felt a lot more solid than he did, but I could be wrong. I didn't think I was, but I could be.

Instead, I tackled my problem from a different angle.

“You know what the difference between 'looking' and 'seeing' is?” I asked him, standing up and stretching.

The taller, older, more gangly teen blinked at me and frowned slightly. “No, what?”

“Looking is passive,” I explained with a jerk of my head towards our surroundings. “Seeing is active. You look at something, your eyes just glance over it. You don't really study it, you don't notice the details. The imperfections. The problems that need fixing. Seeing? You notice, you focus, you really-”

“See it, I gotcha.” Sebas nodded, rising up from the bench languidly as well. “Okay, mister wise zen master, what do you see?”

I smirked at him and turned. “C'mon.”

I could practically feel the other teen roll his eyes, but follow along behind me. Making a beeline for the nearby corner-store, I put on my best friendly smile and approached my first target.

“Hello, Ma'am!” I waved at the woman racking her cart outside the building.

“Oh, hello dears,” she smiled, looking between us. “Is something the matter?”

“I was wondering if we could help you get these to your car,” I nodded to the packed bags she had. “Or just walk them to your house if you live close by.”

The woman blinked and frowned for a moment, looking us over. She wasn't what I'd call 'old,' but my perspective was a bit different than most in my position. I'd peg her in her late fifties at a guess, perhaps a bit older if she had good genes. Slightly thinning hair, a pair of older-style pince-nez glasses, and a back that was just barely beginning to bend into a stoop.

“My name's Arden and this is Sebastian, if that helps,” I offered, keeping my smile up.

“Arden?” She asked, blinking, and I winced internally even as she reared back a bit and straightened up. “Surely not Arden Villin?”

Sebas moved behind me, his presence looming like a surrogate older brother.

“That's me,” I nodded, scratching my hair a bit as I grinned awkwardly. “I guess pretty much everyone knows about what happened around here.”

“I should hope so, young man. Your situation put the town in quite a tizzy for a few days,” she paused, then shook herself. “Ah, where are my manners? My name is Honey, and yes – just like the kind bees make, and I suppose I could use a bit of help. Not that I'm old enough to need it, but I can't remember the last time I had two young men offer to escort me back to my apartment.”

I quirked a smile and grabbed a pair of bags, nodding at Sebas to pick up the other two.

“Now young mister Villin, I know,” Honey started as she began leading us down the street, her floral blouse fluttering in the breeze. “But what about you, young man? Sebastian, wasn't it?”

“Yes, ma'am. Sebastian Rainwater,” he nodded.

“Oh, you're from the reservation then? I thought they had their own school?” Honey asked, frowning slightly in confusion.

“My dad's part of the tribe, but my mom's from Kashmir – India,” Sebas explained. “She wanted me to go to a public school.”

Honey blinked, almost skipping a step. “W-wait. Your father is Comanche, but your mother is from India?”

I sighed as Sebas grinned in a particularly shit-eating way. “I'm and Indian Indian, yep. Half Native American and half ethnically-Kashmiri descended.”

“Oh my!” Honey giggled, holding up a hand to cover her mouth. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh, but...”

“It's honestly fine,” I shook my head. “He loves telling that joke.”

Sebas snorted. “I do at that.”

“Well, you two are simply adorable,” Honey laughed, deeply amused by the byplay. “So you're both in high school? Tell me all about that horrid room they had to clean out. I've heard the most awful things were found down there.”

I snorted lightly and nodded, expounding on the details the news hadn't covered. It was an easy enough conversation topic and she at least had the grace not to probe directly at the metaphorical elephant in the room. In the end, she thanked both of us for our time when we got to her apartment building, slipped us both a five dollar bill over our protestations, and sent us on our way.

“Okay, putting aside the weirdness of just going off and doing something random like that, it was pretty cool,” Sebas hummed, rolling the five dollar bill in his hand. “So what now?”

I pursed my lips slightly, one hand in my pocket fingering the bronze ticket I'd just picked up.

“Pizza?” I asked, holding up my own bill.

Sebas blinked, then nodded. “Pizza.”

Great thing about the nineties? Ten dollars got us a large pie at a local place with outdoor seating, two free-refill sodas, and we still had a pocket full of change left over. Sebas and I settled in with our order, inhaling deeply from the slightly-too-hot cheese.

“Remember, I'm swearing you to secrecy,” Sebas stated, sighing as he cut himself a piece of the sausage-bacon-pepperoni side of the large pizza.

“The pact shall not falter. Your disgusting heresy and unmitigated betrayal of your ancient customs is safe with me,” I assured him as I took my own slice of the plain cheese.

See, that was the catch.

In the unlikely – but not impossible – event that his mother saw him eating here and decided to come over to talk, we'd simply swap plates. We'd only had to use such underhanded tactics once, but the potential of a repeat lingered.

“Thanks,” Sebas chuckled, biting into a slice and groaning slightly. “If the gods didn't want us to eat cows, they shouldn't have made them so delicious.”

“Save me a slice of that, I'll trade you a cheese,” I commented, and my friend nodded.

“Deal,” he hummed, chewed, swallowed, and took a long pull of soda to wash it down with. “So, what's really up with the good deeds and everything? Like, if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to, but don't try to zen-master-buddha me. Not when half my ancestors are from that neck of the woods.”

“You've never been further than California,” I rolled my eyes, quickly devouring my first slice and going for a second.

“Meh,” Sebas snorted. “Anyway, so what's up?”

I hesitated long enough to tell him that there was, indeed, something up. “What if... I told you I wanted to be a superhero?”

Sebas coughed harshly, thumping his chest before grabbing for his soda. “Ugh – Damn, dude, give a guy some warning. Shit...” He clicked his tongue as he inhaled harshly through his nose and coughed intensely one more time. “So... superhero?”

I felt my cheeks color slightly. It still felt embarrassing to say it out loud.

“Okay, trying real hard to be non-judgmental here,” Sebastian stated, eating at a slower pace and sipping at his coke. “You aren't actually an alien or something, right?”

I snorted, grateful I'd already swallowed my own soda. “No, nothing like that.”

...though, that begs the question. Could the gacha do something like that? Just spontaneously give me a race-lift? Would I be able to swap between... elf or slime or whatever and back to human?

A thin strand of unease wormed its way into my stomach at the thought.

I pushed it to the side for later.

“I mean, alright I guess?” Sebas hummed thoughtfully, taking another bite of his pizza. “Dunno' what you want me to say to that, really. Good luck?”

I chuckled, then nodded. “Thanks.”

“This isn't like... that Japanese thing you told me about, is it?” Sebas paused and squinted at nothing. “Chunni?”

I snorted, waving my hand. “Nah, nothing like that. I just... I was kind of waiting for someone to come and save me, you know? Down there.”

Sebas grimaced and looked away. “I'm-”

“Don't,” I shook my head and interrupted him. “It's not your fault. It's not your responsibility. I just... it would have been nice, you know? To have someone break down the vault door. Maybe Big Blue himself?”

“Now that would have been a story,” Sebas mused, his eyes far away. “Alright, so... superhero. Cool. I guess we're going to go around doing good deeds, then?”

I blinked at him. “We?”

Sebas gave me a dull stare, leaning forward just a bit. “Let's get this clear, right now Arden. I am not letting your dumb ass walk around the town looking for evil to thwart and kittens to save from trees. You will get yourself stabbed, shot, or kidnapped again and I cannot live with another one of those on my conscience, okay? Just ain't happening.”

I felt a slow smile curve onto my face as warmth bloomed in my chest.

What was that saying, about the warm milk of human kindness?

“Besides,” Sebas grunted. “It beats listening to you ramble on about electronics or whatever. And there's nothing to do over at the rez, anyway.”

Such was the classic dilemma of the American teenager, because fun cost money. We had an arcade, yes, and a laser tag arena. There were all sorts of kitschy tourist stuff to do, even out to horseback riding and kayaking down a few of the larger local rivers. But unless you personally owned the gear for that, virtually any kind of rental needed funds. Well, either that or connections. And while I'd been more personable in this life than my previous one, I'd never exactly been the type to network all that much.

The complication was that, while I did have the money, Sebas was on a much stricter budget. We'd butted heads a few times over the issue of me dropping money on joint activities, and that had resolved to only being something for special occasions. So most of our activities had to be ones that didn't require any kind of financial transaction.

“Might need to do some hiking,” I commented, making Sebas sigh and slump as he grabbed another piece of pizza laden with dead cow. “Just warning you.”

“You know I try to stay in town as much as possible to avoid wandering in the woods, right?” Sebas bitched.

“I mean, I'll give you shit about whining, but if you legit don't want to do it...” I trailed off.

“Fuck, fine... sure. Hiking,” Sebas muttered with disgust. “I thought we were friends, man. Introverts who hated the sun. Kindred spirits. Then you turn and stab me in the back like this.”

I snorted and shook my head, opening my mouth to bat something back at him-

'Beep-Beep-Beep!'

A flash of anxiety I had no reason to feel in this world flashed through my system, the ghost of a time when phone calls always meant something had gone wrong and I'd need to deal with it. Usually an errand left undone or similar small crisis, but occasionally a broken pipe or that one time something had caught fire. That'd been a fun night.

I twitched and the feeling was gone.

God, I hope I don't have cellphone PTSD.

“What's tha-oooh, right, you've got one of those,” Sebas clicked his tongue as I pulled the device off my hip and opened it up. I gave him a look as he mimed zipping his mouth shut.

“Arden Villin speaking, who may I ask is calling?” I spoke into the receiver.

“Ah, Arden! This is Bruce!” I twitched, an absent thought wondering how I could reasonably destroy the phone without making myself seem more suspicious to Batman. “I hope I'm not calling at a bad time?”

“Not really, I was just hanging out with a friend, Mr. Wayne,” I replied casually.

Sebastian's eyes widened and he almost choked again.

“Oh, well, I'll make this quick, then. I'm hosting a little party next weekend. Dinner and a show, you might say, to settle all those rumors going around about me. I wanted to see if you and your family might be able to attend.”

I opened my mouth to refuse, because Colorado and New Jersey were not exactly an overnight trip.

“I'd send a private jet, of course. And, since it would be black-tie, I'd have a few suits or dresses pulled for you and your family. No need to put you out by making you prepare last-minute. Actually, corollary to that, I'd even be willing to offer you accommodation for a few nights at my home. It's not like I don't have the rooms, after all.”

My mouth slipped closed without a sound, and I realized he was doing that thing where you thought someone was going to refuse your offer, so you just kept talking until they were too exhausted listening to you to actually say no.

“And, really, I wouldn't normally impose on someone your age like this, but... well, the incident with that Dodge fellow. He came to my attention initially because I offered a child your age shelter and she turned out to be running away from him. He wasn't her formal guardian or biological father, so I was setting things up to gain custody – that's why he's doing all of this, I think.”

I blinked. Replacement Robin? Had the designs of destiny shifted so easily?

Or had this been waiting in the wings all along? It wasn't as though I had an encyclopedic knowledge of all DC settings, after all.

“But, I'm rambling. She's about your age, like I said, and it would do me a real favor to have someone here for her first public appearance that I know isn't going to try and take advantage of her to get to my family's money. So, can I count on you, Arden?”

I reached up and rubbed at my face for a long moment.

“So, there are these things called 'sausage balls,'” I replied drolly. “They're extremely easy to make, very low-brow, and greasy. My mom hates them. Any chance that'll be on the menu?”

Sebas was slowly sipping through his drink's straw, still staring wide-eyed at me.

There was actually a moment's pause before the amicable laughter came over the line. I counted that as a win. “I suppose that's something I can make happen.”

“Alright,” I sighed, knowing better than to try and fight Batman when he was on a mission. “I'll pitch the idea to my mom. Then I'll get her to call you when she says it can't happen and you can... do that thing you just did to me, sound good?”

More laughter, with just the slightest edge to it. “Sounds good. I think you and AJ will get along just great.”

I said a quick goodbye and snapped the phone closed before throwing it on the table in mild disgust.

“Bruce Wayne calls you?” Sebas stared at me. “And... you ask him to make you shitty greasy food?”

I pursed my lips, then shrugged. “Yeah, guess that's pretty much my life, now.”

We both let that sink in for a few moments.

“Hey, you wanna fly across the country to attend a weird billionaire's ball in the most corrupt city in the US where a majority of the attendees have connections to organized crime?” I asked.

Sebas' dark eyes stared at me blankly. “No.”

I nodded, sighing. “Yeah, didn't think so, just wanted to make the offer.”

“Should I be jealous right now, or should I point and laugh?” Sebas asked hesitantly.

“You should finish your pizza,” I replied bluntly. “Then we're going to go look for a cat in a tree that we can save.”

Sebas blinked, his mouth slipping open as he stared at me. “That was a joke.”

“Not a joke anymore,” I replied bluntly.

The damndest thing was, though?

We actually found a little girl with a cat up a tree.

I honestly wondered if someone or something was fucking with me at this point.

All told, I'd managed to earn another bronze ticket for what was a superhero staple and a classic good deed. That brought me up to two silver and two bronze. Which, not a bad haul for a single day. Though I doubted either of the bronze ones would be good for repeat achievements.

One of the silver ones was labeled 'mercy.' The other 'generosity.'

Neither of those were difficult to understand. The first for easing the penalty on the Baxters, the second – presumably – for going soft on the financial reparations on all but the contractors who’d sealed off the vents and water. Likewise, the bronze tickets were for each of my simple good deeds.

Sitting in the woods behind the house as twilight closed in, I hummed as I looked them over. I didn't have time to make it to 'my spot' on the cliff, but...

I tore one of the silver ones and received a gacha egg.

“Taser – common ability,” I read aloud from the slip of paper. “Allows you to channel electricity through your body and discharge it, strong enough to seriously hurt someone.”

I thought about it a moment, then nodded. It wasn't anything earth-shattering, but it was useful. Especially since my pyrokinesis wasn't exactly subtle. Having a trick literally up my sleeve that didn't automatically reveal I had powers – I could carry a taser to throw people off – would be nice.

“Okay, second silver. Big money, no whammy,” I hummed, cracking the next egg and feeling a rush of energy course through me. “Oooh, sweet. Enhanced Vitality. Let's see... your vitality is beyond the norm. Yeah, no shit. You recover from ailments and wounds faster than what most consider normal. In addition, your life force has been enhanced, giving you an increased lifespan.”

I sucked in a slow breath.

That was... something. Something I'd repress and deal with later. Much later. I wouldn't really have to worry about that for a few decades, honestly.

Good pull, though.

Great, even.

I looked at the bronze tickets, hesitating.

Then I shook my head.

Poor impulse control strikes again.

They'd been burning a hole in my pocket all afternoon.

“Cat recuse first,” I muttered, tearing it. Standard sound effects, then a ball deposited itself in my hand. I cracked it and... two slips of paper fell out? “Okay... Hideout Realtor. Uncommon Item. From Hunter X Hunter. Create a secret hideout in a location of your choosing, the hidout will be stocked with the essentials and the only way to access it will be through the door you have created.”

I blinked, looking at the other piece of paper.

“Hideout Coupon – Place on Surface and Tear,” I read aloud.

That was... huh. Like... with running water and power and everything? How'd that work?

“Fuck it, it's magic,” I grunted, setting the ticket aside. I wasn't going to use it in our backyard, at any rate. “Last one. Let's see what we get. Had a good day so far...”

Tear, plastic ball, crack, and...

I stared.

Then I had multiple medical degrees shoved into my head and passed out.

120. Expert Medicine (4.9 Rarity, 0.09% odds)

-Elite Skill-

You are an expert in all fields of medicine that regular humans can seldom match. You know how to perform surgery, make your own supernatural medicine, and diagnose ailments with ease and finesse.

~~~

Happy Thanksgiving!

Or, um... random Thursday? I guess, if you're not part of the red-white-and blue crowd.

Anyway, here's a fun little chapter with Arden and Sebas palling around after a stressful meeting. Arden resolves not to tell his friend about his powers just yet, but there are a few things he can do to see if Sebas is on board or not.

Also, Arden tears some tickets at the end.

Next chapter will be Entrepreneurial Spirit to finish out the month. Hope everyone enjoys this one and I'll likely have the next one out over the weekend.

As always, thank you for your support!

Mind Games - Chapter 46

“Th-thank you,” Yoake murmured quietly.

I hummed and nodded, brushing off the last bit of rubble sticking to me. That was the downside of wearing your costume everywhere; when you left a combat class, you were already in your school uniform. Any damage just carried over and you had to live with it until you could wash the thing. Of course, I had an extra suit just in case, but that was 'just in case.' Which, for a hero, meant an emergency.

Unless I was stinking, soaked, or had my clothes torn to pieces, that suit was staying on reserve.

As it was, I just showered off, swapped out the sweaty under-suit for a new one, and slipped the rest of it back on. Snapping it out a few times like a towel got off most of the debris I'd taken when the buildings had started collapsing, leaving only a few embedded pieces of concrete and patches of gray dust. Otherwise, it was perfectly fine to put back on.

I turned to the horned blond and nodded. Despite being several inches taller than me – centimeters – the way she'd hunched over made her look smaller than my own form. “No problem.”

She shook her head vigorously. “N-no! It really helped! I mean, if you hadn't-”

I grunted, cutting her off. “It's what heroes do. You're my classmate, my comrade, and perhaps a friend someday soon. I don't need a reason to do what I did.”

She sighed in relief and smiled, some of the tension draining out of her. “W-well, thank you anyway. Bootstrap? O-or do you prefer Shinso?”

“Bootstrap while I've got the costume on,” I nodded, stretching slightly to get it to settle properly. The hot shower after the training session had done wonders. UA had the best goddamn water pressure I'd ever felt, I swear...

“Bootstrap, then,” Yoake nodded, pursing her lips and-

“You and Sakura. Extra training period on Friday. It's self-study, I'll walk you through meditation exercises,” I informed her unilaterally. “You get that, Usagiyama?”

A pink tuft of ear-hair around the corner twitched, then its owner gave a soft groan. “Crystal, Prez. Shit, and I was gonna' be all grateful and stuff, too.”

Then the girl's changing room door slammed open and Neiko stomped out, her eyes locking onto me as soon as I entered her field of view. “You.”

“Me,” I nodded, unmoved and unintimidated.

“I don't know what pisses me off more,” the silver-haired teen spat, crossing her arms as she stared at me. “That you act like you're the hottest shit anyone ever dropped from their asshole or that you've got the skills to back it up.”

I reached up and scratched at my jaw, not having put my menpo back into place yet.

Ugh, fucking tsunderes... absolutely not. I don't have the time to deal with a girl like her. Too much a spitfire, just no.

“Talk to me later, I want to go over some of the street-dancing HeroTube videos you posted online,” I informed her instead, making her jerk slightly in surprise. “I think you're dramatically underutilizing your quirk.”

Hayami Neiko snorted and shook her head, sending her silver hair flying. “Ugh, you're such a hardass. That was a fucking compliment and you turn around and insult me, fuck.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, if you don't want advice on how to kick my ass, ignore me.”

She paused, then snorted angrily and stomped off.

“Umm... Bootstrap? What about me?” Sakae asked, finally stepping out of the men's room with a mass of half-dried black hair trailing behind him. “I-is there something I can do to improve?”

I cocked my head and looked him over – still pants – then nodded.

“If you do not possess Heaven, gain knowledge and be prepared,” I advised him. “If you do not possess Earth, run through the fields and seek strength. If you have both, dangerous paths will turn into safe ones.”

Sakae blinked at me slowly. “Could you maybe repeat that? In German?”

I turned to the blond. “Ask her to explain. You heard what I said, right?”

Yoake nodded jerkily in surprise and adjusted her glasses. “O-oh, yes! I'll happily help, let's see, which part did you...”

I shrugged and turned as Sakae began to get tutored in the intricacies of the Japanese language and metaphors within. As I walked away, I raised a fist and met Sakura's raised fist with my own, ignoring the blunt he had already lit up. For such a normally laid-back person like him, the silent gesture spoke volumes.

Sighing, I decided to leave my facemask hanging around my neck for now and just pulled up the cloth mask that went underneath it. It was made of a material with a name that was long and painful on the tongue, but it wicked sweat, served as a moderate-grade filter on the air, and had nodes of non-newtonian fluid sewn into it so that it would cushion my face against the mouth-guard if I got punched in the jaw or something.

Also, I'd gotten it personalized so that there was a boot print trailing up the side of my neck, my signature shade of purple against the black fabric.

The modern hero industry was about nothing if not branding, after all.

“So, what've we got next?” Sakura asked, falling in line behind me with a sigh.

“English,” I replied. “With Present Mic.”

[Oh, cool. That's a subject I can actually do.] Sakura replied with a grin.

I blinked, frowning. [You can speak English?]

“At least a bit, yeah,” the rabbit-boy nodded. “I basically grew up on American action flicks.”

I snorted. That explained why I hadn't found any mention of him attending classes at school. Nominally-speaking, English was almost a requirement for a lot of Japanese institutions. Although the political landscape was... rather substantially different than what I was used to, the American-Japanese alliance persevered. Not without its own problems or shake-ups, of course, and the entire thing had been rewritten at one point about seventy years ago, but the ties between Japan and the US were still very right.

That, in turn, manifested in an institutional push to have as many English-literate students as possible. I wouldn't go so far as to say it was the country's second language or anything, bu a significant portion of the urban population could be depended upon to be at least brokenly-fluent in the tongue.

I popped my neck as we made out way back into our classroom, finding the blond DJ already having set up shop behind the podium.

“Hey-hey-hey, Little Listeners! Heard there was some trouble in your first combat class! Well, pull up a seat, we've got class!” Mic grinned, waving his arms around theatrically.

“Do you really expect us to just go back to class like normal after that? Geez,” Hayami sighed, shaking her head.

“Oooh! Teachable moment!” The musical-themed hero grinned and clapped his hands. “My advice for aspiring heroes would be to get used to situations like this. One minute you're risking your life fighting a villain, the next you're filling out paperwork! That's just how life is!”

“Mhm, my parents complain about it a lot,” Sakae nodded as he sat down. “Uh, paperwork, that is.”

“Oho, your parents are in the biz? Uhh...” Present Mic paused, looking down at his paperwork. “Du-dudu-durdur-”

“Durchdenwald,” Sakae sighed, drooping somewhat. “Please call me Sakae, for both our sakes?”

“Ah-heh-heh, yeah, maybe we can go with that,” Mic chuckled awkwardly. “But your parents, they're heroes?”

Sakae nodded, his words still slightly stilted as he began to talk. “My dad's retired now, just a few years ago. He was... I guess kind of a big name in Germany? My mom's still active here in Japan. She's search and rescue, though, with a water-based quirk. Her name's Haze? You might not know here.”

“Haze, Haze, let's see...” Mic hummed for a moment, then frowned. “Sorry, little dude, doesn't ring a bell. If she's does work around ships and the ocean, though, that might explain it. S&R are good people, though. Props. And I know about our other two hero-related students, here, too.”

He turned a wide smile on Tatsuma Yoake and Usagiyama Sakura.

Both of them had obvious-enough connections, given their family names.

Interestingly, Hayami Neiko twitched at the mention of a heroic relative. Mic didn't catch it, but I'd almost been expecting that reaction.

“Which makes you two our odd ones out, I guess,” Yamada Hizashi nodded rapidly, his head bopping to a beat only he could hear. “Now, the little miss here seems prickly enough that I'll take a pass on poking her, but... Shinso Hitoshi. Bootstrap.”

“Present Mic.”

“So... you tune into my show?” He asked, his posture that of a child waiting for a treat as he leaned in. Honestly, his long blond peacock-ponytail sticking up behind his head looked, in that moment, like a dog's tail wagging.

“Couple of times,” I nodded. “I like your call-in sections and the conversations.”

“And the music?” He grinned wider.

I shifted, adapting my posture to slight embarrassment and awkwardness. “I'm an ultra-classic dude. Pre-dark age stuff. Modern music is...”

It wasn't good, even if I were judging things by a purely objective measure. Overly-simplistic, lacking any real edge to it, and... all centering around the idea of heroes. A few of the songs were tolerable, usually about the wanna-be Batman-style avengers, but even those were pretty plainly propaganda.

And, yeah, I got it.

This world lived on a precipice.

Enough people had quirks that could prove dangerous to society at large that, if they were motivated, could cause significant problems. The trick was to make sure they weren't motivated. In most societies, that wasn't a huge issue. However, this world in particular, where almost everyone had some sort of superpower...

Bread and circuses weren't just a good idea, they were absolutely necessary.

A song about a hero wasn't just a song. It was an experience.

And, no, I didn't mean that in the same way an executive for a record label did during a press release. Or, not exactly, anyway. Because unlike the bullshit paradigm-shifting jargon they liked to spout, that 'experience' meant something. Because, in this world, not everyone could be a hero. Not everyone could be rich, successful, famous, or a hero.

But you could experience being a hero, vicariously, though merch.

And you could cultivate a vaguely toxic para-social relationship with your favorite crime-punching super-person. And that was awesome for everyone involved because it meant the heroes got a slice of that income, the government didn't have to worry about the population realizing that well over ninety percent of them lived lives of quiet and unthanked drudgery, and the general populace didn't have to worry about having an airstrike dropped on them when they finally went postal after their shitty boss forced them to choose between another round of unpaid overtime and their kid's wedding.

Because while not everyone could be a hero, there were a lot of one-note villains who killed a bunch of people before they got taken down.

This world relied on the vast, vast majority of people deciding that working a nine-to-five every day was a better option than using their mediocre power in a rage-fueled tantrum to get even with society and go out in a blaze of glory.

So if, to get to that point, we need to guzzle down some hero-themed slop on virtually every media and retail channel available, well at least I don't have to put up with Jersey Shore or the goddamn Kardashians anymore.

I'd take my victories where I could.

“...just not my thing,” I finished with a shrug.

“Aww,” Present Mic reeled back, clutching his heart as if I'd stabbed him. “That's a shame! I was looking forward to negotiating having you on the show sometime.”

“I'd have to talk to Buster about it before I made a commitment either way,” I waved him off. “But let me bring my own tunes and we can probably make something work.”

Present Mic threw back his head in boisterous laughter that made me wince slightly. “Excellent! Man, I was so worried you were basically going to be Shota 2.0-er, Eraserhead-” He waved off his slip, “you dress like him, you've got that same grumpy tone, you've got that dead-eyed stare, and your hair even looks like his when he's using his power.”

I thought about the joke for half a second, then threw caution to the wind.

“That's because a villain captured me briefly, stole my DNA, and did a brain scan of me,” I replied with a perfectly straight face and level tone. “They tampered with my quirk and modified it to allow me to control the deactivation of quirks through verbal orders instead of line-of-sight. Their goal was to create a more effective version of my heroic original and deploy me to wreck havoc on the world, but I broke through the mental programming and escaped my captors. Then I decided to enroll in UA to legitimize myself in the eyes of the law before I sought revenge against the shadowy cabal that made me what I am today.”

The rest of my class stared at me like I was insane.

Hizashi blinked rapidly, his jaw opening and closing silently. Then, finally, he started to chuckle slowly and steadily, the noise building into a crescendo. “Hahahahaha! Oh, man! I can't believe you got that out with a straight face, kid! Whew, I haven't laughed that hard in a long time!”

“I dunno man, it could happen,” Sakura chimed in, lazing back and hiding the way his lips were twitching as he took a hit from his smoke. “He turned off my quirk. Me and Tatsuma. He could totally be Eraserhead's clone.”

Present Mic blinked again, more slowly, then turned to the rest of the class.

Points to them, they immediately understood the ploy and schooled their faces, nodding along. Though Neiko couldn't resist a superior smirk... but that was something of her usual expression, so it didn't matter as much as it might have on Sakae or Yoake.

“Okay, smart guy,” Hizashi stated slowly, turning back to me with a suspicious and squinting expression, amusement still glimmering in his eyes. “If you went to all of that trouble, why'd you come out and tell me about it on day one?”

“You remember that prank you pulled? The one I swore you to secrecy over how embarrassing it was? Yeah, that one.” I asked him with one eyebrow raised as his eyes slowly widened. “I decided revenge on the people who created me would pale in comparison to the satisfaction I would draw from revenge on you.”

Present Mic's throat bobbed as he took a deep breath. “S-Shota?”

He stopped, stared at me longer, then shook his head rapidly. “N-no, no... that's a good one, but you're pulling my leg. You almost got me!”

I simply stared him down, my violet eyes into his gold-tinted sunglasses.

Then, slowly, I reached up to pull down the half-mask covering the lower part of my face. “It was just a logical ruse.”

Then, I smiled.

The same smile that bastard had given us when we'd finished his little 'test,' the day before. Even if we already knew he was entirely serious about expelling kids from the school should they fail to meet his expectation, that wide, rictus grin had driven home how fucked we were if Aizawa ever thought we were slacking off.

Present Mic's eyes shot so wide I could almost see his eyelashes around the edges of his glasses. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”

Then he ran out the door.

Right into Eraserhead, who stared blankly at him.

Hizashi screamed again, so loud I almost thought he was going to activate his quirk, scrambling around the dark-clad figure of our homeroom teacher before running for the hallway.

Eraserhead took one look at us. Sakura had collapsed over his desk, laughing hysterically as he clutched its sides in a futile attempt to steady himself. Neiko was wearing the biggest shit-eating grin I'd seen this side of Aizawa's own as she quaked with her own laughter. Sakae and Yoake were more reserved, but both were badly hiding their amusement behind raised hands.

Without a word, Eraserhead walked over to the podium, picked up the small stack of documents on it, and walked over to drop them on my desk.

“You break it, you bought it,” he stated bluntly, locking eyes with me. Then, shifting to the rest of the class, he frowned. “I was going to read you lot the riot act for demolishing an entire testing ground during your introductory practical heroics lesson, but now I have to chase down your English teacher, who has run screaming from the room in blind terror.”

I pretended not to notice the way his left hand was clenched inside his pocket, the muscles pulling at the fabric of his sleeves so hard he must have been forcing his fingernails into his palm. His jaw was clenched, each step controlled and purposeful, as if losing even a moment's discipline would lead to a complete collapse of his entire body. Even his eyes burned, not with anger, but with unshed tears that refused to fall.

“Work,” he gasped out, a rasping order of a man at the end of his rope.

“Yes sir,” I nodded, standing to hand out the English placement tests.

Eraserhead grunted, then turned and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“We're all deeeee~aaaad,” Yoake moaned quietly, dropping down onto the desk in despair.

“Worth it,” Neiko smirked. “So. Fucking. Worth it.”

“I mean, at least we made it one day,” Sakae muttered with a sigh.

I cleared my throat, bringing them to attention, and looked to Sakura. The pinkette's ears were twitching and he was still quietly shaking with laughter. I smirked and spoke quietly. “He's standing in the hall laughing, isn't he?”

“Totally,” Sakura gasped, grinning.

Neiko barked out a quick laugh, leaning back in her chair as the other two sighed in relief.

“Okay, time for classwork,” I sighed, passing the test out. “Hand it over by the end of class and I'll grade them.”

“I almost want to ask what makes you think you can give me a grade on a test, but you're so bullshit you probably can,” Neiko muttered, accepting the paper without further complaint and sighing as she began to write.

I mean, I had eidetic memory, I'd read our entire textbook cover to cover, and was conversationally-fluent in English at the level of a native speaker. Also, I had a teaching degree... that was two centuries and one universe out of date.

I think the thing that would bug Present Mic the most was that we'd all passed by pretty clear margins.

…

“Hi-To-Shi!”

I'd already felt her approaching – at high speed, nonetheless – but the verbal warning was appreciated.

Himiko collided with my midsection with a solid impact that left me patting her on the back and rubbing soothing circles into tense muscle groups. Something was obviously wrong, though I doubt it had gone as chaotically as my own morning. Some of which had been by my own design, admittedly, but I'd needed to blow off a little steam and Present Mic knew how to take a joke. Hell, he'd even appreciate it once he showed back up to class, and the entire thing would set us off on the right foot.

But, in the meantime, I'd gotten to lead the class, cement my position as their unquestioned authority absent an instructor, and temper that image with another humorous incident.

I'd need the credit I was building up when time came to teach these kids.

Because they were a mess. Even if nothing changed with 1-A from the show, they'd still do better than this little motley crew.

But, to guide them, they'd need to trust me.

And trust had to be built. Had to be earned.

Frankly, the challenge of forging these misfits into proper heroes in record time would at least keep me entertained between schoolwork that I couldn't benefit from even were I to put in proper effort.

“What's up, Himiko?” I asked, comforting her as she nuzzled into me.

“I'm class president~” She whined piteously. “Your dorky superfans wouldn't let me re-fus-eee!”

I sighed tiredly.

That fucking badger-mole.

“That's your girl, then,” Sakura stated, dropping into his seat with a full tray of...

“Yeah, this is Toga Himiko. My girlfriend,” I nodded, then tilted my head at the curry. “Isn't that cannibalism?”

“Yep,” Sakura stated, filling a spoon full of rabbit curry and bringing it to his mouth. “That's what makes it delicious.”

“I never had rabbit before,” Himiko stated, shifting gears like a professional racecar driver as she straightened up and peered over at the dish. “Is it yummy?”

“The best,” Sakura stated with a grin.

I took the opportunity to reach into my bag and rummage around before withdrawing two packed lunches. In reality, they'd been stuffed in my Pocket, held in perfect stasis from when they'd been prepared.

“Yay! I get to serve my boyfriend homemade lunch at school!” Himiko squealed, clapping her hands cheerfully.

“Luuu~uucky,” Sakura muttered in a sing-song voice. “Even as good as this shit is, I'd trade it for a home-cooked meal by a cutie.”

“Hehe!” Himiko grinned, unboxing the lunches.

“Ugh, gag me, why don't you?” Hayami grunted, dropping into her own seat, leaving two spaces between us and glaring at my girlfriend and myself. “Why don't you two get a room? We're trying to eat here.”

I rolled my eyes as I breathed in the spicy scent of a seasoned pork cutlet and steamed broccoli. It was, of course, an extra-large two-stack lunch box, for each of us. We were both growing teens and needed a lot more than a thousand calories per day.

“Oh wow, that looks good,” Sakae hummed, sitting down with something that contained more sausage than I'd ever seen in one meal. But I suppose that was how you knew it was German.

“Right, special first lunch together surprise,” I stated, 'reaching into my bag' again and withdrawing a small sealed bottle.

Himiko stiffened, her nose flaring and her eyes dilating.

“Is that...” Sakura began, frowning at the viscous red liquid in the bottle.

“Blood,” I nodded, handing it off to Himiko as I set it down next to her food. “My blood, specifically. Himiko has an obligate vampire quirk. She can subsist on animal blood or donated plasma, but it's better from someone she's close to. More of an emotional component.”

Himiko, stiff as a board, made a small whining noise as she looked at me.

“Wow... and you gave her some of your own?” Yoake asked, having sat down in the middle of my explanation. “That's so sweet! Shinso must care about you a lot, Toga-san.”

“I do,” I nodded, slipping out a pair of chopsticks and beginning to eat, disregarding Himiko's intense blush.

“...he can be a bit of a meanie sometimes,” Himiko admitted, pursing her lips as she looked at the bottled blood with naked desire. “B-but... I love him, too!”

Leaning over, she pressed her lips to my cheek briefly, then pulled away to happily begin eating.

“I think I hate you more than I've ever hated anyone else in my entire life, dude,” Sakura stated, staring me down.

“Join the fucking club,” Neiko muttered irritably.

“You only think that for now,” I stated, swallowing my food and going for a bottle of coke. “Just wait till I start training you. Then you'll know for sure.”

The sincerity and grave promise in my voice made them laugh awkwardly.

But they'd learn, eventually.

~~~

...and, done!

Kind of surprised I managed to finish this tonight.

Anyway, this will close out Hitoshi's first full day at UA without Eraserhead's testing fuckery. From now on, coverage of UA will jump around a little more. I'm obviously not going to do each and every day at school, that'd be silly.

But Hitoshi has other irons in the fire, too. We'll be looking back in on his work at the agency for the next update, likely touching base with the big man himself, so that should be fun.

Next chapter will likely be Entrepreneurial Spirit. Outside chance of Butler Boy.

Hope everyone's having a great weekend and, to all of my American subscribers, I hope you have a good Thanksgiving break!

The New Ron - Chapter 44

“Rejoice, my American Homies! For I have returned!”

The doors clanged open as the posh upper-crust voice raised itself to cry out over the teeming teenage masses within the school. As one, the collective body of Middleton High School turned to see a snazzily-dressed young man wearing a stylishly cut blazer, far too many hair care products, and a wide grin.

“Yo, Wally's back!”

“Ohmygosh!”

“Woo! Good lookin' out dude!”

“Long Live the Prince!”

Kim took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and held it for a long moment. “This is exactly what I needed this week.”

“Well, I guess one good thing that comes from associating with Possible is that she can't monopolize Wally this time,” Bonnie thought aloud with a smirk.

I turned and raised an eyebrow at Tara silently, who just gave me a small giggle and shrug in response as Wally worked his way through his admirers and sycophants. I'll give him this much, the boy had charisma in spades and knew exactly how to wield it. Even if Kim and I found his entitlement grating, he also had a good heart and didn't actually mean to hurt or insult anyone. I think that helped his case too.

“What, planning on getting on your knees to honor his royal majesty?” Kim snarked.

Bonnie jerked as if she'd been struck, then a slow, proud grin etched its way across her face. “Oh Kimmie! You do have some bite in you, I'm so proud!”

Kim's shoulders slumped and she blushed as she swiped a hand over her face. “Ugh. I can't believe I just said that. You're a horrible influence, Bonnie.”

“I am an amazing influence and you know it!” Bonnie smirked cattily.

I sighed and slipped a hand around Tara's waist. “Well, this is my life now, I guess.”

Tara giggled again, holding a hand over her mouth to hide how pleased she was. “I can't decide if I should be happy they're finally getting along or upset that B's being... well, herself about it.”

I was similarly of two minds about the situation, though in a slightly different way. I liked and supported Kim, don't get me wrong, but... she could be a bit too much of a people-pleaser sometimes. Which, yeah, her job was 'saving the day,' so there was some serious good in that, but people took advantage of it. We'd had a few 'clients' who had burned us in the past by asking for services we'd provide for free that they just didn't want to pay for.

And Kim almost always caved and let them walk all over her.

So, yes, Bonnie was a mean girl and I very much didn't want Kim to follow in her footsteps, but I did totally support the idea of my partner learning when and how to tell a particularly egregious request to fuck right off and make it stick.

My hope was that Bonnie would actually provide some ablative or deflective shielding by being closer with Kim. Seeing the redhead as a potentially exploitable resource for herself would mean that she'd chase off anyone who came by with a scam and a sob story. Especially since I thought KP's gig as student council president was wearing her a little thin at the edge with all the time commitments she was being pressured into.

But that might just be the fact that Archer had gone completely dark and we had no clue where he was or what he was doing.

Kim still wasn't precisely sold on the whole 'time travel' thing, but Wade and I were working on her. More data was still coming in, the boy genius had sent some drones to former Drakken bases to see if we could get lucky and find a DNA sample, and we were trying to collate the sightings and tech we had evidence of him stealing into a possible dossier. All of that took time, effort, and a few favors here and there to get done, so Kim and I were stuck in the daily tedium of high school.

“Okay, this is where we split,” I nudged Tara, who sighed and nodded. “Let me know if you need help in math?”

“Please and thank you,” Tara grinned, leaning up to kiss my cheek.

“If you're stealing my line, Tara, then I'm stealing yours,” Kim snorted.

My blond girlfriend paused, cocking her head as she stepped away. “Do I have any lines?”

“You might want to practice a few,” I cautioned her. “I've got 'Booyah' and a few others. If you get the chance, might want to come up with something to say when something cool happens, like winning against a villain or something.”

“Ugh, catchphrases,” Bonnie muttered in disgust. “Please, T? I'm dying here, don't go gently into that good night or whatever.”

I blinked, opening my mouth to ask Bonnie if she just-

“Cheese!” Rufus cheered from my pocket, poking his head out. “Catchphrase!”

“Little late on the draw there, buddy, but entirely valid,” I nodded at him, receiving a hopeful grin in return. “But you'll have to wait for lunch.”

With a mournful whine, the naked mole rat ducked back into my pocket to mope.

Another round of semi-flirtations and Kim and I were off to our homeroom.

“Stoppable, a word?” The cool and deep voice of our VP spoke up.

Or I could be called off by one of the many banes of my existence. Kim shot Barkin a mildly venomous glare and snorted before turning and giving me a silent nod. I sighed as I walked over to the man, standing stiff-backed as I slouched and leaned against a long bank of lockers.

“What's up, Mr. B?” I asked, shrugging and masking the slight double-tap I gave the pocket of my pants.

Specifically, Rufus' pocket.

His gaze narrowed and his detention-writing digits twitched... before settling. Taking a deep breath, he crossed his arms. “The cheer trip this weekend, Stoppable.”

I blinked, cocking my head. “I turned in my permission form, didn't I?”

He jerked his head. “You did. I checked your mother's signature on the paperwork agianst the one we have on file myself.”

I stared at the man just a tad blankly. “Why would I bother forging my mom's signature on something this unimportant?”

“Strategic penmanship drift,” Barkin replied without missing a beat, his gaze bearing down on me. “You start out with the unimportant paperwork and get the office staff and your teachers familiar with your own version of your parents' signature, then slowly work your way up to your report cards.”

I opened my mouth, honestly stunned and... nothing came out. My mind was blank.

“C-can we just move on before I start smelling burnt toast?” I asked.

Barkin's arms uncrossed and he slammed the flat of his fist against the lockers, leaning into my personal space. “Burnt toast? Is that some slang for the new drug on the streets? You dealing, Stoppable?!”

“Ah... okay, ow. Ow, that's... my brain hurts now,” I admitted, reaching up to rub my forehead. “No, you're supposed to smell burnt toast when you're having a stroke. I was making a sardonic remark to imply that your train of thought is sufficiently alien to me that I can't understand it and trying to do so would break my brain.”

Barkin stared at me for a moment longer, snorting disdainfully. “This is why we're never going to get along, Stoppable. You're a slacker with no respect for authority, content to be rescued by a girl.”

I twitched and felt an actual headache building. “Mr. Barkin, you decided I was a bad egg or something the moment I gave the weird military guy standing at parade rest an odd look on the first day of school. That decision-making rationale isn't something I understand or respect. If you want me to respect your authority, I'd ask you to reflect on the way you exercise it towards your students in general and me in specific.”

“That's all you've got to say, huh?” Barkin scowled. “I basically call you a wimp and you let it go?”

“I fight supervillains for my extracurriculars, sir,” I replied plainly in monotone. “I'm afraid that if things between us ever escalated, I'd put you in the hospital.”

“Miss Possible fights supervillains,” Barkin disputed without easing his scowl. “You're... what was it you said? A 'rodeo clown for the henchmen,' I believe?”

“Okay, putting aside the insinuation that rodeo clown is an easy job, because it isn't,” I replied patiently, “I have my own archnemesis now. He's a crazy English aristocrat who became obsessed with ancient monkey-worshiping cults and had his feet surgically-altered to have opposable thumbs. We've got this whole 'there can only be one' deal going on in a competition to master mystical monkey power.”

This time Barkin blinked.

And stared.

Yeah, that's about the normal response when I tell someone about Monkey Fist, and it never gets old. Heh.

“I see what you meant about the burnt toast comment,” Barkin conceded, then rallied. “Regardless, Stoppable, you're weak. And I'm not going to stop putting pressure on you until you man up and stop waiting for a girl to do the hard work.”

“And I'm going to continue to respond in a patient and even-tempered manner, as I believe is appropriate,” I paused momentarily, to inject just the right amount of afterthought disrespect in the last word. “Sir.”

Barkin twitched, narrowing his gaze.

“We're off-track,” he decided to say, even if a muscle in his jaw jumped and the words came out through slightly-gritted teeth. “The cheer camp over the long weekend. You're going to be at my side continuously. For reasons I can't fathom, Ms. Strong is willing to date you. Under normal circumstances, I would trust Ms. Possible to rein in any pitiful attempts to hit on any of the squad, but under these conditions, I am forced to concede the fact that – unlikely as it is – you might 'get lucky' on a school trip, thereby endangering my employment.”

“That's... surprisingly reasonable of you, even if it was phrased in the most condescending way possible,” I admitted.

“I try,” Barkin's voice was as dry as the desert. “You will attend all public events, cooperate with all of the programs, but you will not spend one iota of time alone with a member of the fairer sex, am I clear?”

“Crystal, sir,” I stated with a nod, then expounded at his skeptical look. “Believe it or not, I prefer to keep bedroom antics in the bedroom. The idea of having private time with a partner in a sweaty locker room or something? Ew. Mega-gross.”

I shivered dramatically, not entirely for effect.

Barkin snorted, then nodded slowly. “Well, at least you're slightly more hygienic than I gave you credit for initially.”

I took a deep breath. “Was that it, sir?”

Barkin frowned, but nodded. “I'll have my eyes on you all weekend long, Stoppable.”

I nodded, then stopped. “I'm going to be late for class, may I please have a note?”

Barkin paused, no doubt trying to find some token, petty reason to refuse before grunting and taking out a small pad from his pocket and scribbling something on it before tearing it free. Slapping it into my hand, the man stalked off to find someone else to yell at.

I reached down and tapped at my pocket again, prompting Rufus to emerge holding my Wade-crafted communicator. I was still kind of on the fence about actually calling it a 'Ronnunicator,' but... eh, it was growing on me.

“Got all that, buddy?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

The mole rat's pink head bobbed up and down with a wide grin. “Uh-huh, uh-huh! Got it all!”

I grinned back and gave him a little scratch on the back, “Good work, buddy. I swear to god, though, the second that guy lays hands on me, I'm breaking his fucking jaw.”

Rufus merely laughed sinisterly, my rodent pal having been deprived of no few snacks due to Barkin's draconian policies.

And, contrary to my normally cool-tempered response to Kim, I was reaching the end of my rope with the guy. Oh, I still believed that he was trying to be the 'tough, but fair' educator and instilling discipline in me, but he was such a complete asshole about it that I really had to hold back from doing something I... well, no, I wouldn't regret it. I'd just regret the consequences of it, among which would be a disappointed look from KP.

Barkin, at the end of the day, was a small man. Emotionally immature, obsessed with appearances, hyper-focused on a traditional outlook of masculinity, and just generally small-minded. I really had no idea what the man had gone through to put his panties in such a twist, but as much as he pissed me off, I also pitied him. He lived the way he lived out of – as near as I could tell – a complete and total fear of losing control over the tiny patch of reason and sanity he clung to in a world that was rapidly and dramatically changing around him.

That didn't mean I wasn't going to break the dude's jaw, though.

It'd be a graduation present to myself, if nothing else.

I sighed and shook my head. “God, I need something to happen. It's been a looo~ooong week, dammit.”

My personal high school hell wasn't made any better by the fact that the incident last week with Archer had driven home just how much the timeline had diverged. Even more than some weird time-traveling doppelganger of 'myself,' I was pretty sure the incident with the truth ray just plain hadn't happened as far as Drakken was concerned. The Seniors should have been villains by now, if nothing else, so there was no way we'd have been invited to one of their parties.

And, vaguely, I remembered something about them getting kicked out of a 'billionaire's club,' but I had no idea when that had happened.

All of that wasn't made any better by the fact that I was quickly losing grasp on the 'canon' timeline.

It was a frequent-enough gripe that I'd voiced to my friends on occasion. None of them watched the show, but they understood the frustration of my core complaint. Basically, the Kim Possible 'timeline' was a complete mess. This was because the order that the network had aired the episodes in wasn't the order that they'd been created in. The best example was, in fact, the... third episode of the series? I think?

Or, rather, 'third episode.'

It was the one where Ron ended up back at Camp Wannaweep, the place of his childhood trauma. But the catch was that Ron – me – was already the Mad Dog cheer mascot when it aired. Ron only became the mascot in a later episode, though.

Were we going by the actual production dates?

I had no fucking clue anymore.

And, again, that was if any of this even counted after all the bullshit I'd changed. I had no idea if that was even relevant. Oh, some of it was probably going to happen no matter what. Global Justice still existed, obviously, and Will Du was probably going to be assigned to shadow Kim and I at some point in the near future, which... I'm pretty sure was the introduction for Duff Killigan?

“Let's see, what else was there...” I muttered, frowning as I took my sweet time getting to class.

Something about a dance, I think? Oh, and the clones that dissolved in soda, that was a thing, too. I remembered a Halloween special, too, but I forgot if that was this 'season' or one of the latter ones. It was important for introducing Kim's nanotech battle suit, I remember that much, but as far as specifics... something about learning an important lesson about not lying?

Oh, and Kim was due to meet Monique at some point, too.

Although how that would work out now, what with the detente between Kim and Bonnie... eh, my partner probably still needed a legit female BFF that she wasn't constantly sniping back and forth with. Or dating, in the case of Tara.

When did DNAmy get introduced? Was that season one? Or season two?

Of course, nothing was helped by the fact that there were very few legitimate landmarks for any given moment in the series. I don't think there was a single episode for Kim's birthday for instance, and only one for a Mother's Day event. Likewise for Christmas and Halloween. If I recalled correctly, So The Drama was probably our Junior Prom? Which meant the fourth season was just senior year...

Probably.

Ugh.

I finally reached my destination and passed a note to the teacher, who glanced at it before nodding and waving me off to my seat. I gave Kim a discreet thumbs-up and smiled at her before dropping my backpack and sliding into my chair, going through the motions of getting ready for Social Studies.

Though... there was the issue I was avoiding considering.

'Archer.'

Was he me? Or was he Ron?

Did my appearance alter things such that Future-Me would feel the need to come back? Or... we didn't know when he came back, not really. Could it be that him coming back had resulted in me appearing? Would the impetus for the time travel be separate from me, then?

Or did I have to worry about effectively wiping my own existence out in order to preserve the world?

This world's time travel rules were... very soft sci-fi, if it could even be called that. The main mode of time travel was a magical monkey idol, after all. Future-Wade had only developed the tech after the process had been used to disrupt the time stream. Then things had reset after the Tempus Simia had been shattered, but was that just because of magic? Or was that how all time travel worked?

Were we on Back to the Future rules, Terminator rules, or MCU Endgame rules?

The bottom line was that I couldn't trust Archer to have my best interests at heart. If he really was me, then things would have had to go incredibly bad to break my personal rule about time travel.

The rule was very simple: Don't.

And even if he was me, he could have been hit by that 'evil ray' from later on in the timeline and be out for world domination or something. But if he was the OG Ron Stoppable, I had no idea what his mindset was or how he'd react to virtually anything I did. The fact that he'd chosen the name 'Archer' in and of itself hinted that he and I were the same person... or it was just dumb luck on his part.

I shook my head, sighing as I returned to my school work.

I could only hope that Kim got a call that a mad scientist was trying to kidnap someone or turn a building into cheese or whatever.

~~~

Okay, here's chapter 44 of The New Ron.

This is kind of a bridging chapter between last 'episode' and the one that's coming up. A lot of it's internal monolog, but there's some good character interaction, too. Ron's really stewing in his own thoughts and anxiety about Archer, specifically.

Is he Ron? Or is he The New Ron?

Is that good or bad?

Only time will tell.

Next update will either be Mind Games or Entrepreneurial Spirit. Look forward to that. As always, thank you for your support and patience. IRL stuff is heating up with Thanksgiving around the corner, but I'll try and keep updates constant.

Mind Games - Chapter 45

Hitoshi's bound legs swung in a wide circle, cutting under Himiko as she jumped desperately into the air and landed in a crouch away from her boyfriend.

The movement of his legs continued, the chain jingling as he swept into a tighter circle and rolled the momentum into a vertical bounce.

“Now!” Himiko cries, lunging forward at an opening.

The boy landed on the balls of his feet, his hands open and ready to intercept the blow-

-or, rather, the body behind it.

Hitoshi pressed his open hands to Himiko's oncoming abdomen, crouching to avoid the claw-like blow of her fingers. With that contact, he used her center of gravity against her, rolling her up and then – instead of throwing her – slamming her to the mat directly next to him.

Her breath erupted from her throat in a gasp as she hit the floor.

A split-second later, Hitoshi's knees were on her stomach with his paired fists at her neck.

“Point.”

The assembled heroes of the Endeavor Agency were stunned into silence in the background.

The video continued, Hitoshi spinning like a top on his hands and throwing both his legs around in vicious arcing kicks. Occasionally, one of the cuffs would catching one of Himiko's limbs, enabling Hitoshi to throw her or catch her in a snake-like bind. The boy used his knees and elbows as well, trapping one of the blond's legs between his knees and using it to force her to the ground before exerting his greater weight to trap her.

“Remarkable, truly remarkable,” the principal of UA high school stated as he reviewed the footage. “Thank you for bringing this over, Hot Ice.”

“It was no problem,” The white-haired woman said, shaking her head as she sipped at her tea. “I should be the one thanking you for indulging in my anxieties.”

“Entirely reasonable anxieties,” Nezu replied with a small chuckle, his keen eyes locking onto specific movements as the, now months-old, fight continued to play on his office's expansive monitor. “UA is not stranger to... hmm, challenging students, shall we say? But even among those, young Shinso and Toga stand out in unusual ways.”

“That's an understatement,” Fuyumi muttered, then grimaced as Nezu openly laughed.

“I suppose it is, though I regard the two of them as particularly interesting puzzles at the moment,” Nezu replied, still amused. “Intelligent, capable, possessing powerful quirks one would normally associate with villainy, yet clearly committed to heroism in spite of having every reason to lash out at society at large. It speaks of a significant maturity in both of them that I seldom see in students their age. Present company excluded, of course.”

Fuyumi snorted mildly. “I'd rather you didn't get many students you have to compare to me, honestly.”

The ursine-rodent cocked his head, “A fair point, though one I'm somewhat dismayed to find truth in. You and your brother, Luminous, were remarkable students who raised the caliber of your classmates significantly just by your mere presence. If there was a way to produce motivated individuals like yourselves – Toga and Shinso included – without the need for the trauma you each bear... but, reality rarely conforms to our ideals.”

Hot Ice pretended not to notice the way Nezu's paw scratched at his scar.

Nezu, in turn, pretended not to notice her not noticing it.

For a long moment, they both simply sipped their tea and watched as the sparring footage came to an end.

“Remarkable,” the principal repeated, humming. “Did young Shinso care to shed any light on how he was capable of performing such a feat?”

“I asked him afterwards and he said that a lot of the moves he used were from a style called Kapo-Kaporia?” Fuyumi stumbled and grimaced over the foreign word.

“Capoeria?” Nezu took a stab in the dark and received a nod. “It's a Brazilian martial art, created by slaves that masqueraded as an elaborate dance in order to hide it from their masters. It's unique in that its origins instruct movements based on the idea that the hands and feet would be bound by chains and, thus, have a limited range of motion.”

“Hitoshi said much the same,” Fuyumi frowned, rubbing at her chin.

“Did he comment on where he learned such an art?” Nezu asked curiously. “Though admittedly, I'm more curious as to how he did so, as such an education in a foreign discipline would leave some sort of paper trail.”

“I didn't press him for answers,” Fuyumi admitted, “but he remarked that... what was it?”

She took a moment to think over the words her mysterious and frustrating junior had said over a month ago.

“He said... that body language is just another language, and that if he could pick up Japanese Sign Language, then there was no reason he couldn't pick up a martial art the same way,” Hot Ice explained.

“Young Shinso does have an unusually versatile quirk,” Nezu commented idly, humming as he considered the idea. “I haven't quite had the time to read through his entire quirk assessment. Was this in the documentation?”

Fuyumi pursed her lips, thinking back to the rather... substantial report the analysts had generated. Even she could admit that she'd resorted to skimming some of the more dense and academic parts of the hefty documentation. She couldn't exactly fault someone else for not knowing chapter and verse, especially when they had hundreds of other students to care for. “In abbreviated form? They had him mimic one of the advanced pottery students from a nearby college briefly. While it seemed to bear out his claims, they'd need to do a longer-term study to be sure of it.”

“Ah, yes... the hazards of insufficient evidence,” Nazu nodded, chuckling grimly. “Though I will note that I did have time to look through the police report and arrest record which got flagged by our system last week.”

Fuyumi groaned, much to Nezu's continued amusement. “Please don't remind me of that... it's been a small nightmare to deal with. Between making sure that everyone who handled that investigation form Bootstrap submitted received a stern warning over not bringing it to a superior and making sure that the agency's computers are rigged to copy me if Hitoshi sends anything like that through them again... and that's just the administrative side of things.”

“I imagine if the boy didn't have ironclad evidence, multiple video recordings of various incidents, and what amounts to a full confession by the culprits he'd be in a great deal of trouble,” Nezu stated happily.

It was an amusing scenario, inasmuch as it was not his students who were being 'pimped out.' Though the fact that Shinso Hitoshi had already been admitted to UA had allowed him certain leverage in making sure the boy's school was rather thoroughly audited from as many angles as possible. Hopefully, all of the faculty and staff would learn a valuable lesson about being observant of their students' welfare.

“Like you have no idea,” Fuyumi practically hissed, grimacing as she thought the incident over for the umpteenth time. “Hitoshi is smarter than that, I know he is. I've experienced that on a near-daily basis. What could have possibly motivated him to-”

The gerbil-raccoon cleared his throat, interrupting the rant before his former student could truly gain steam. Such things might cleanse the emotional palate, but there was a time and a place for that. “Looking over things – to the extent I've been able to – it seems like the matter was very much personal for him. I even happened upon a report from the teacher involved in the compensated dating ring who attempted to get Shinso penalized for his HeroTube channel, citing it as an unauthorized part-time job. The Intelli girl involved also had a history of socially-isolating Shinso. So when he became aware of their criminal activity...”

Fuyumi sighed, her shoulders drooping. “You know he had the gall to give me this long-winded explanation about how he was 'objectively the correct choice for investigative footwork' right after everything went down and I was trying to read him the riot act?”

Nezu chuckled merrily. “Oh, of that I have no doubt. I don't know him well enough to judge if he's self-aware of the inherent hypocrisy in espousing a doctrine of objective analysis, or if he's simply using it as a smokescreen to shield himself from overt emotional involvement, but it will be fascinating to uncover the truth of the matter.”

Privately, Nezu thought that the latter of the two was much more likely.

It would, if nothing else, neatly explain the budding respect between Bootstrap and Eraserhead, given the aforementioned teacher's issues with emotional honesty.

“How are they doing, really?” Fuyumi pressed suddenly, her gaze intent. “You told me about what Aizawa did to Hitoshi's class; do the other... survivors blame him for it? How about Himiko? Is she fitting in?”

Nezu chuckled again for many, many reasons.

“Oh, Hitoshi is hitting his stride quite well,” he replied with a smile. “Why, just before you arrived he'd been summarily thrust into the position of Class Representative, actually.”

Fuyumi stared at him in mild disbelief. “I... can't honestly imagine Hitoshi volunteering for a position like that.”

The ferret-weasel's amusement only grew more intense. “Oh, he didn't. When I say he was thrust into the position, I mean it quite literally. The remaining four other students in his class unanimously acknowledged that he was the only reasonable choice and awarded him the title. In fact, let's see how that's going-”

“Don't you disrespect me, Little Man! Don't you derogate or deride!”

Fuyumi's jaw dropped open as she watched Hitoshi begin to prance about the classroom, singing and dancing... shockingly, he was actually pretty good.

“Oh my! Let's see... oh, I see,” Nezu smiled like a shark, his eyes feasting on the new data points being presented to him as he watched the stoic, deadpan, and snarky teen hero bounce around the classroom without any hint of pride, ego, or self-consciousness. “Fascinating.”

Shinso moved up another rank in his mind, a puzzle of a human being ever so slightly more complicated than he's first considered. The overly serious facade the boy had created dropped at a moment's notice... to cheer up a child? That... spoke of a depth he hadn't quite predicted. A disregard for social consequences and willingness to put the emotional welfare of someone else before his own.

It recontextualized a great many things he'd seen the boy do.

And raised a great many more questions in the process.

Who are you really, Shinso Hitoshi?

Oh, it was common enough to see people – especially teenagers – put on different facades to blend in socially with friends, family, acquaintances, and formal occasions. Young Toga was a masterclass in such things due to her unfortunate upbringing. But Shinso? It was clear that he could, he simply chose not to for the most part.

“I can't believe I'm seeing this,” Fuyumi muttered, shaking herself as she stared at the screen.

“Indeed, it's quite a surprise, even to me,” Nezu hummed, enthralled almost past the point of amusement as he watched a newbie teen hero rib and joke with All Might so casually one might mistake them for friends.

Where did that confidence come from, though? Or was it not confidence and, instead, just a complete apathy towards social interaction. No, the latter might explain away some of the boy's personality quirks, but it just highlighted the improbability of others coexisting within the same psyche. The confidence was real enough, Nezu concluded, likely drawn from Shinso's impressive intellect and ability to quickly master skills as well as read people like open books.

All Might, for all that he was capable of deception, generally wore his heart on his sleeve.

Perhaps we are doubly-lucky that Toshinori had his time rolled back. Were he to approach Hitoshi in his injured state, the boy would probably divine something wrong with him almost instantly.

Or perhaps he was just overestimating the rising star of the Endeavor Agency?

Nezu frowned as his analysis turned inwards. Something about the boy set his teeth on edge, but it wasn't anything he could specifically name. He definitely found the purple-haired boy an interesting subject for further observation, but... there was something more than that. A mix of the innate authority he carried himself with, the maturity to generally disregard his own ego outside of deeply personal incidents, his commitment to heroism as an ideal as well as actually understanding what that meant...

Truly, the hours of 'deep dives' Bootstrap and Buster went into provided him with a deeper character study than he could usually construct after a student's first term at UA. Even if they were at least partially scripted, the boys' body language was sincere about their belief in what they espoused.

So what bothered him?

A hero prodigy rising rapidly through the ranks after a jarring and potentially-traumatizing kidnapping event. An under-evaluated and under-utilized quirk that proved to be versatile and powerful when properly allowed to blossom. Intelligence, maturity, diligence, dedication, a skillful grasp of public relations.

Aizawa interrupting the happy moment among the classmates sparked an epiphany.

That was it.

Shinso Hitoshi acted like a veteran of the hero industry.

Tired, but alert. Confident, but not arrogant. Deferential to his superiors, but able and willing to offer his own insights within his realm of competence.

Though... those descriptors were all ones which fit Toga Himiko to a greater or lesser degree as well. Particularly her heretofore underutilized talent in programming that was – even to his own skills – frighteningly formidable.

Then why did Shinso bother him in a way that Toga did not?

Instinct told him that the Toga girl was simply mimicking young Bootstrap's performance, slotting in characteristics and attitudes that she saw him using to great effect given Hitoshi's own analysis of her fragmented mental state.

But then where did Shinso's... sheer casualness come from?

Had the boy met someone whom he imprinted off of? A professional hero? Hmm... he'd have to look more deeply into the boy's history, if only to satisfy his own curiosity and stop that little itch in the back of his mind from pestering him.

Fuyumi finally shook her head, the expression of blank disbelief on her face fading slightly. “I... that was... I'm going to have to show my dad. He won't believe me otherwise.”

“I'll have a copy for you by the time you leave,” Nezu stated, cuing up the relevant program with one paw as he took a sip of tea with the other.

“We got off track,” Fuyumi stated, taking a deep breath. “You were saying about Himiko?”

“She's doing quite well, though that's to be expected,” Nezu replied idly, occupied by his own thoughts. “Fitting in with her classmates, she's actually accepted the position of representative for 1-B.”

Fuyumi jerked slightly in surprise. “I-I suppose... I shouldn't be too shocked. Himiko is very personable. Though I can't say she strikes me as the type to attempt to run for office either.”

Nezu chuckled. “Oh, her situation is not all that dissimilar from her partner's.”

Fuyumi's brows furrowed. “I don't understand.”

“Oh, in order to ensure that young Shinso actually made the effort to make real bonds and properly associate with his classmates, I ensured that no one who had connections to Bootstrap's fan-following was in 1-A. Aizawa and Kan supported the decision,” Nezu began to cackle slightly, his teacup rattling against its saucer. “While the decision of 1-A to disregard Eraserhead's authority was unanticipated, it neatly teaches the young man a lesson about the importance of being personable with his peer group! Something that he seems to have taken to heart with this little display!”

After all, Nezu more than anyone knew that any given action could have more than one motivating factor and certainly more than one goal to be accomplished with.

And he wasn't so naive as to believe that Shinso Hitoshi wouldn't see the benefits in making a fool of himself in a small group of students he was no pursuing closer bonds with. To someone who seemed as mature as Hitoshi presented himself, the true test was in understanding that a loss of face in such a situation could be turned into interpersonal currency instead of a liability.

The boy continued to genuinely impress!

“But the secondary effect of associating all of Bootstrap's fans who made it this far into a class with young Toga is that she has now become the Idol of 1-B!” Nezu outright cackled. “This will prevent her from slipping into her classmates' shadows and forcing some of her true personality to the forefront of her actions! Once she understands that not everything need be a mask and there will not be world-shattering consequences for breaking such a facade, she can begin making real relationships that don't depend on her boyfriend acting as an intermediary! Haha!”

Fuyumi repressed a shiver as the mad dwarf polar bear-gerbil hybrid explained his manipulation of the lives of two teenagers with all the passion and insanity of the most exuberant villains she'd met in her tenure as a hero.

She was beginning to wonder if it had been wise to ask Nezu for his help with Hitoshi and Himiko.

“Don't fret so, Hot Ice,” the quirk-bearing animal chittered. “If worse comes to worst, I'll have Hound Dog on call to handle any potential problems and Hitoshi himself is only a short distance away himself.”

“I'll trust your judgment on the matter,” Fuyumi sighed. Even if the whole thing made her deeply uncomfortable, Nezu was right far more often than he was wrong and had a litany of successes to show for it.

Her brother Touya was one of them, in fact, and that counted for quite a bit in her book.

She frowned as she looked at the large monitor on the wall again. “What kind of exercise is All Might doing?”

“A variation on the standard hero-villain practice matches,” Nezu replied. “The classic application wouldn't work given the size of the class, but given Shinso's presence, that's easily fixed.”

Fuyumi hummed as she watched All Might set Hitoshi as the villain for the first round, then selected the silver-haired girl as his heroic opponent.

The match started out unimpressive and Fuyumi felt it was likely going to continue that way.

The girl very obviously had no idea how to use her quirk in a combat situation. She'd made a beeline for the building and directly approached Bootstrap in his full costume. The girl's was fairly simple by comparison, just reinforced street-wear along with a pair of weighted gloves not unlike Hitoshi's own.

“Turn the audio on?” Hot Ice asked.

“-ranged weapon. Preferably something like a whip or a meteor hammer,” Hitoshi advised, leaning casually against the doorway.

“What, afraid of getting beat by a girl?” She replied. “C'mon, I'll make it quick and painless. Or... mostly.”

“Keep in mind that I told you the broad strokes of my quirk, not any non-quirk related skills I've developed,” Bootstrap sighed, reaching up to cradle the forehead of his helmet.

Personally, Fuyumi liked the fact that the boy's practicality had shown through in his costume design. The fact that he'd all but demanded a helmet, even butting heads with their PR team over the issue, made her a lot more comfortable seeing him in a combat situation.

Not that she thought he couldn't take care of himself or anything.

It was just... psychic-type quirks had a reputation of their users being... squishy, for lack of a better term.

Judging by the lightshow, though, the girl at least understood that she had been given time to set up her quirk while she and Bootstrap bantered. A sparkling ring of light surrounded the girl three meters out, easily encompassing the chokepoint of the stairway and trapping Hitoshi on the other side.

“You going to make a move, asshole?” Silver-hair asked, and Fuyumi resolved to learn her name at some point.

Hitoshi shrugged. “Don't have to. I'm playing the villain. Your win conditions are reaching the bomb or capturing me. I'm outside of your field and, unless you're willing to leave it, you are getting me or the bomb. I can just wait you out.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Know what? I can't fucking take that attitude of yours anymore!” Silver-hair screamed, and lunged. To her credit, her quirk obviously sped her up significantly and it was equally-obvious that she was experienced at using the gathered momentum to throw herself out of her zone and towards a target.

Hitoshi, though, had anticipated that.

He took the flying tackle full-on and he rolled with the force better than she did. The match ended with the girl pinned beneath Bootstrap, yowling like an angry alley cat and cursing like a sailor, her hands bound behind her back.

After that, it was the Usagiyama's turn. Fuyumi hated to assume based on quirks, but... it was fairly obvious. His quirk, though, was an interesting deviation from the norm. If he had better control of it, he'd be a real threat.

But he didn't.

Hitoshi avoided direct confrontation, ducking and weaving into the shadows of the 'abandoned building' they were holding the test in. The rabbit heteromorph ran down the clock chasing his classmate instead of looking for the bomb as he should have, then busted out his quirk in the last two minutes of the exam. It was powerful, as evidenced by the multiple walls and floors/ceilings he demolished, but Bootstrap lured him outside the building and ducked back in, continuing the game of cat and mouse until the clock ran out.

“He's not using his quirk,” Fuyumi noted clinically.

“Hmm... well, we'd hardly get actionable intelligence on Bootstrap or his classmates' combat abilities if he did so, would we?” Nezu asked, grinning. “Although it's impressive that he managed to come to that conclusion without All Might pressing the issue.”

Fuyumi nodded slowly. It was a valid point. If Hitoshi simply asked them a question and they responded, the combat trial would be over just like that.

Did he know that he was being tested too, though?

Eh... who was she kidding, Hitoshi probably had a good read on the games Nezu liked to play by now. It wasn't as though he hadn't asked her and the other UA alumni at the agency about the school.

The smaller, dark-haired teen was at least interesting. He'd clearly requested some serious support gear and deployed a set of drones from his backpack before killing the lights in the testing zone.

“Hmm... I might have to see about beefing up security in some of the school's systems, if only to see what Durchdenwald-san can do when he puts his mind to it,” Nezu snickered as he tapped a button and the harsh tones of night vision spread across the screen.

“And here I thought Hitoshi was being paranoid when he asked for a night vision visor implanted in his helmet,” Fuyumi sighed, shaking her head.

This fight, at least, prompted Hitoshi to pull out his bow and start picking off the drones.

But that proved to be of little consequence given Bootstrap was ricocheting his shots and carefully maneuvering behind.

“I almost feel bad for these kids,” Fuyumi admitted solemnly as she watched the girl with the dragon transformation. She was too shy to be truly effective, but even her limited shift into her dragon form allowed her truly monstrous power. One of her arms easily tore through more of the building, giving Bootstrap some manner of actual challenge and, points to her, she actually stayed on-mission and went for the bomb.

Still, there was a reason you didn't actually bring an artillery piece of a knife fight, in spite of how amusing that sounded.

It was because a massive weapon stopped being effective when someone was in your face and stabbing you.

In a different environment, with room to maneuver, she would likely have forced Hitoshi to actually use his quirk to avoid a loss. But, much like the rabbit boy, she was simply too powerful to use most of her abilities indoors without endangering the entire structure.

Doubles didn't help matters.

They were clumsy, too independent-minded, and got in each other's way more often than they actually cooperated. The team of the dark-haired boy and the silver-haired girl did force Bootstrap to pull out a few smoke bombs and a bolo to take down the speedster within her field.

She didn't particularly like that.

But it allowed him to pursue the drone-user unimpeded.

When the berserker was teamed up with the dragon, well...

…

I flipped off a wall and dodged another super-speed rabbit lunge.

Okay, this is getting a little ridiculous.

Sakura went careening through the wall I'd just used, parting the concrete like butter with his rage-focused strength. “STAND STILL DAMMIT! YOU AIN'T GETTING AWAY AGAIN!”

“W-we've got you surrounded!” Yoake shout-squeaked, holding out the almost-cartoonishly large forelegs of an eastern dragon out to coral me.

Sensing movement behind me, I simply dropped to the floor and allowed the bunny to sail over me in another wild lunge.

Which, of course, sent him straight into Yaoke.

Her scream of alarm matched the detonation of a pair of plasma blasts that flew left and right, taking out two more walls.

“I'm seriously going to have to knock some sense into that boy,” I sighed within my mask, already rolling to my feet and moving.

Why? Because for all my tricks, I was still pretty squishy.

And those two had just removed three of the four walls of the building's second floor.

There was another blast of energy as-

I blinked, my eyes widening.

“Oh shit,” I muttered, throwing myself out the nearest window.

Just in time, because Yaoke had gone full dragon in response to being attacked by Sakura.

She was absolutely gigantic in her serpentine form, the limbs that had almost taken up an entire hallway each before, now attached to a body that was gleaming in the morning sun. Wreathes of yellow energy formed a flowing corona around her body as the dragon roared and casually swept the length of its body through the building I'd just jumped out of.

“E-Eri! Calm down now! It's okay, everything's just fine-”

I didn't need to ask what was wrong, I already knew.

“HEY, YOU GIANT GARDEN SNAKE! FIGHT ME!”

...and this would definitely not help it. I hit the button behind my head and my mouthguard dropped open so I could jam a pair of fingers in my mouth. The gritty bite of pulverized concrete wasn't exactly the greatest taste to suddenly deal with, but I bore with it to whistle as loud and as sharply as I could.

Instantly, both of my classmates' heads snapped towards me, Yaoke's mouth full of the fucking sun and Sakura grinning like a bloodthirsty madman.

My quirk snapped into place.

“S-see, Eri! They'll stop fighting! Deep breaths, young lady-ack!”

“Yoake, carry me up to the observation deck!” I shouted. “Sakura, break through the glass!”

The rabbit moved as the dragon knelt to raise me up in one of her claw-like hands. I heard the sound of shattering glass a few moments before I was close enough to jump into the now-broken window. Inside, faux-lightning was crackling as the little girl clutched at her head, All Might a few feet away and unable to get closer as Neiko and Sakae hugged a wall. Thankfully Sakura was still under my control.

I put my gloved fingers to my lips again.

“FFFFWWWWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Once again, all movement stopped as Eri grabbed at her ears from the intense sound, her panic-wide eyes filled with tears seeking me out.

Again, my quirk locked in.

“Turn off your quirks,” I ordered Eri, Sakura, and Yoake in as loud and commanding a voice as I could muster.

Sakura dropped to his knees like a puppet with its strings cut. I heard a distant squeal as Yoake came back to herself – no doubt completely naked – in the testing area below. Eri's power snapped off like a lightswitch had been thrown, instantly flickering out. All Might swept in as her eyes fluttered and she collapsed.

“Th-thank you, Young Shinso,” All Might sighed deeply, the little girl in his arms. “I think that's quite enough... everything for today. Anyone with injuries, follow me to Recovery Girl.”

“Uhhh... I'll be there in a minute! I just have to, um-pleasedon'tlook!” Yoake shouted as Sakura tilted his head towards the broken window. “I'llbebackinaminutebye!”

I felt the tension drain out of me as I pulled my headgear off and leveled a look around me at the various people. “You lot are going to be the actual – literal – death of me. I swear to all the gods.”

“I'm quite sure you'll handle the responsibility just as well as you did today, Young Shinso,” Toshinori stated, shifting his cargo as he clapped me on the back and almost knocked me off my feet. “Which is to say... better even than I did, sadly. I suppose hero skills don't readily transfer to teaching those same skills.”

“I'm sure Mr. Aizawa has some pointers,” I nodded at the man, stuffing my helmet under my arm and reaching down to grab a still shell-shocked Sakae off the floor to pull him up. I almost did the same for Neiko, but her glare stopped me as she righted herself. I ignored the man's wince. “Or any of the other teachers. I still ask for advice all the time from more experienced heroes at the agency.”

“Indeed, perhaps I'll get someone to sit in on our after-action report, once everyone's calmed down,” All Might muttered, then blinked. “But in the meantime, tell me, Young Shinso... have you ever thought about... babysitting?”

I blinked, my eyes shifting to the tiny sleeping girl in his arms.

Then trailing my gaze back up to the blonde behemoth's earnest and hopeful smile.

Fuck... I'm going to agree to this madness, aren't I?

…

Fuyumi released a tense breath, her control on her quirk slipping as her pulse cooled.

“Cancel that alert, Eraserhead,” Nezu spoke through his comm device. “Bootstrap has handled the situation. If you would, though, please alert Cementoss that the testing ground 1-A was using needs to be rebuilt for afternoon classes.”

Nezu chuckled at whatever the scruffy hero on the other end of the line replied with.

“Yes, the entire thing. Yoake's fully-transformed state and Sakura's strength are even more impressive than their paperwork indicates. At least three buildings are entirely destroyed, with several others sustaining significant damage.” The ursine-roden sipped his tea. “I'm sure you'll find the review of the footage very enlightening as well.”

The principal set the device down and hopped off his seat. “I'm sorry to cut this meeting short, Hot Ice, but it appears I need to have a word with one of my employees about exposing traumatized children to stimuli which might trigger a loss of control of their quirks. I'll have the full footage of today's mock battle forwarded to the Endeavor Agency over a secure line.”

“I...” Fuyumi's shoulders slumped as she followed the diminutive education professional out the door. “As much as I want to check in on Hitoshi, I'll trust that Recovery Girl has it in hand. I really should start heading back. Thank you for your time, sir.”

“Think nothing of it,” Nezu remarked as they parted. “This has all been quite revealing!”

…and given him even more reason to evaluate Shinso Hitoshi as precisely as he could, if his read of the situation was right.

~~~

Mock Battle time! I'm proud to say that I've crafted a situation that turns out even worse that Bakugo's little tantrum in canon. At least that fight left the building standing!

Anyway, here's the next MG chapter, hope everyone enjoys.

I'll be working on The New Ron next and have that out shortly after the weekend. Monday, maybe Tuesday. Look forward to it.

Other than that, I hope this finds everyone having a great weekend and thank you again for your patience and support. I appreciate it, as always.

(PS - This one is extra long, it just got away from me. Maybe because it was substantially easier to write than the last chapter of Butler Boy.)

Butler Boy - Chapter 11

“Mr. Shedder,” I stated, shaking the man's hand.

“Mr. Villin the Younger,” the balding Assistant District Attorney nodded, then switched to my father, “Mr. Villin the Elder.”

“I think we can be satisfied with Arden and Archibald,” my father stated, his badge gleaming on his chest as we all stepped into the station's conference room.

“I'm afraid I'll need to ask you to keep referring to me by my last name,” the older man smiled apologetically. “I don't want to present any undue familiarity with either side of things. Even if I am technically representing your family's interests in prosecuting the Baxter boys, it's best if I don't appear overly friendly.”

“We understand,” Dad stated, looking over to Officer Potter. “Hey, get us some drinks, will you Danny? Coke for my son, water for me. Mr. Shedder?”

“Water would be fine, thank you,” he gave a professional smile as he set his briefcase down and began unloading documents. “So, do you have legal representation?”

“Ah, yes,” Dad cleared his throat and frowned as he looked at his watch. “I've retained our union's lawyer, Jacob Peterson. He should be here-”

“Sorry!” A frazzled-looking younger man – well, only a bit younger than my dad, so late thirties, early forties? - stumbled through the door. “Woke up to a flat tire, whoo... can't believe I made it.”

“Mr. Peterson, I presume,” the ADA stated, extending his hand. “Karl Shedder, Assistant District Attorney for Kingsfield County.”

“Jacob Peterson, a pleasure,” Dad's union rep stated, dropping his things by the table on our side as he plopped himself heavily into a seat. “Sorry again, let me just catch my breath.”

“Certainly,” Shedder nodded, shuffling papers. “In the meantime... well, I'll go ahead and get us started. DA Rodgers is up for reelection this year. Forgive me for saying the quiet part out loud, but he's very eager to throw the book at these boys who put you down in that bomb shelter. Now, that said... we are open to the possibility of a plea deal.”

“The court system that crowded, these days?” Dad asked, frowning.

I refrained from sighing. It was an old saw with the man. Cops had a very love-hate relationship with prosecutors. Police didn't often get to pick their battles. They got called out and tried their best to deal with hostile situations every day. Granted, they often failed and made a complete mess of things, but that was neither here nor there. A district attorney or prosecutor... those were desk jobs. They got to pick and choose which cases moved forward, which were dropped, and which were offered a deal so that they wouldn't waste the courts' time.

After all, if every single criminal actually asked for a full jury trial – as they were theoretically entitled to under American law – the entire justice system would collapse within weeks from the strain of it all.

So plea deals were a necessary evil from the point of view of the cops on the street.

But that didn't make them acceptable, especially when someone got a few years probation for putting a person in the hospital.

“If we're being blunt,” Shedder stated, flipping through a few documents and nodding absently. “It's because the elections won't be for several months. The primary goal here, from a political angle, is to ensure that the opposition candidate doesn't have a weapon to use against the DA. That is, of course, secondary to seeing justice done for your son, but I'd like to ensure that every side in this matter is adequately represented.That includes the general public, who are very much worried at the events in this case and wish to see an adequate resolution, an opinion which my superior has been put in place to execute.”

“So you're pushing for a plea deal because you don't want a 'slam dunk' case to drag on in the courts and still be relevant and high-profile when your boss goes up for election, but as long as no one can accuse you of resolving the case by being overly sympathetic or soft to the criminals, the public will forget the details and just remember that it was adequately resolved. That will prevent it from being used as a weapon against your boss' reelection campaign then, won't it?”

Shedder blinked slowly behind his oversized glasses, turning away from my father and looking at me full-on for the first time.

I just cocked my head and raised an eyebrow.

“Your son is very intelligent,” Shedder stated, frowning.

“You don't skip two grades by being dull,” my dad snorted, his tone dry and slightly derisive.

At that moment, Danny knocked on the door briefly before opening it, his other hand carrying a full tray. “Uh, got your drinks. And the Baxters are here.”

“Hmm... a shame, I thought we'd have more time. It seems they're early,” Shedder murmured as he adjusted his glasses.

Jacob, who had fully recovered in the interim, leaned over and began whispering to my father; the two of them having a few last-minute consultations.

“Archie,” Benjamin Baxter said, his brother and their lawyer following him inside.

“Ben, Camden,” Dad nodded, then looked at the lawyer. He kept his tone level, but there was a bit of frostiness to it. “Edgar.”

The man in the slick suit smiled back, his expression sharper and a bit cutting. “Archie, you're looking well. You too Nicholas.”

Shedder, if anything, looked more irritated than my father at the defense attorney's appearance, answering only with a grunt.

“I am, thank you,” my dad nodded, frowning before turning back to the ADA. “I think that's everyone. I'll get Danny to do another drink run, but if we can go ahead and get this over with?”

You know... for some reason I'd imagined this as a lot more formal and procedural... maybe I've been watching too many court room dramas?

Well, I had been binging some of the trashiest American cinema during my recovery period.

“I think it's a good move not to waste anyone's time,” Shedder stated, looking around the room before taking out a voice recorder – a move that was likewise copied by the other two lawyers. “So, the accused are Kevin and John Baxter, whose parents are with me here today, along with Edgar Reims, the legal counsel that they've retained. Also in attendance are Archibald and Arden Villin, the latter of whom is the victim in the crime being discussed and is present with the consent of both parents. Their legal counsel, Jacob Peterson, is also present. Time and date are...”

The man adjusted his glasses and read off the relevant information as he squinted at his watch.

He cleared his throat and took a drink of water while I brought the can of coke under the table and cracked it gently to keep the noise from getting to the microphones.

There was a flickered-look of approval from the balding ADA. “So, I'd like to start off by saying that nothing discussed in this meeting will be binding. I'm here representing the DA's office and District Attorney Tyler will have final say in what gets approved as far as deals go. Even then, the judge who gets assigned the case has the authority to throw it out, though that rarely happens. So, before we formally begin, I'd like to establish any and all preexisting relationships to know what we're working with, here.”

“Benny and I used to play football in high school,” Dad stated, leaning back. “I've known him and his cousin since middle school, at least. I think we went to the same elementary, but...”

“We knew each other on sight, I think, but weren't really friends that far back,” Benny nodded, his expression dismayed. “Camden wasn't as close with Benny, but we all hung out together often enough. Still get together for drinks on occasion. Or, well, we did until recently.”

Camden Baxter nodded slightly, rubbing at his too-long stubble. “That's about right. Sorry my son's such a jackass, Archie. For what it's worth, at least.”

“It's more than nothing, at least,” Archie sighed, then cleared his throat and forced himself to perk up. “In the interests of full disclosure, Edgar Reims and I have been on the opposite side of a court room more times than I care to count, but that's a purely professional relationship.”

“I can agree with that,” Edgar nodded. “The Chief and I don't exactly go out for beers together, but we do have each other's contact information given how often we need to get in contact with each other. Same with Mr. Peterson, for that matter, although it's a less frequent association we've been known to work around and within the same cases.”

Jacob offered his own affirmation regarding that, then the ADA nodded and looked up from where he'd been taking notes. “Is there anything else?”

“Ah...” I spoke up, resisting the urge to raise my hand as if I were in class. I colored slightly as the room turned towards me. “Benjamin Baxter and I have had a business owner-client relationship in the past.”

Even Dad blinked at that, while his friend blushed and cleared his throat as several of the men turned to him. “Ah... right, forgot about that. Yeah, the kid wanted to buy some car parts for his brother's Delorean and swore me to secrecy.”

Dad stared at his long-time friend then snorted and clapped me on the shoulder. “I'd always wondered about that. Well, that's one mystery solved. How'd you get his number, Arden?”

“You had me help you clean out your desk last year and I pocketed one of the old business cards I found,” I replied with a shrug. “I figured he was trustworthy enough if you two were friends.”

“Alright... but we'll need to have a talk about it later,” Dad stated, not unkindly, but serious at the same time. It was plainly apparent that, while I wasn't actually in trouble, he'd also want to give me some advice on calling up random people that I found business cards for, no matter how much I assumed they could be trusted.

“If that's everything?” The ADA asked, getting nods all around. “Good, now... we'll cover John Baxter first, as he's the simpler of the two-”

Camden, the boy's father, sat up straighter.

“-John is being charged with kidnapping, false imprisonment, conspiracy to commit the aforementioned crimes, and attempted extortion by way of torture-”

Mr. Reims snorted at that, interrupting the official. “That'll be thrown out and you know it. Putting aside the idea that school assignments legitimately meet the value necessary to consider the charge-”

“Then you can have it thrown out in court, Mr. Reims,” Shedder scowled at the man. “Which we are not currently in. It's entirely your purview to recommend a course of action to your clients and I recognize that, however we are here today to discuss the charges my office is capable of bringing against your clients' children. We are not here to allow you to interrupt the proceedings. If you'd rather we move straight to an arraignment instead of hashing this out now, that can be arranged.”

Reims grunted, though he didn't look at all chastised. “Very well, my apologies. Please continue, Mr. Shedder.”

“As I was saying, the DA's office is looking at the possibility of charging John as an adult, but provided he can be reasonable in agreeing to accept punishment in the crimes he committed – with a full confession – we'll drop him down to being charged as a minor, which will likely result in juvenile detention until he hits majority with the possibility of a few years' probation after that.”

Just as Reims leaned over to whisper in Camden Baxter's ear, I realized what was happening.

Sometimes the basic plays were the best, and there was no more basic than 'divide and conquer.'

That was a deal for John, not Kevin.

“We want to hear what you're putting out there for Kevin as well,” Edgar Reims stated firmly, Camden nodding as he looked to his brother.

Shedder frowned slightly, but flipped the page in his notes. He probably didn't have anything detailed on their relationships, so it wasn't unreasonable to expect a rift to have formed between the siblings over this. Still, it didn't look like there would be any such luck.

“Kevin is a more complicated matter,” Mr. Shedder stated. “He's over the age of eighteen and has been for several months. In practical terms, he's closer to nineteen than eighteen. I'd like you to face the fact that there's no way we'll be accepting any attempt to try the boy as anything but an adult. Kevin will be facing all of the previous charges as well assault and attempted negligent manslaughter-”

Reims jerked, but visibly held his tongue.

“-and while my office does acknowledge that neither Kevin nor John were acting in any official capacity nor had any formal duty of care towards young Arden,” the ADA nodded in my direction, “we're still interested in highlighting the callousness of the crime to potential jurors. Manhandling a student significantly younger than either of them into an environment where he cannot acquire adequate food or water – to say nothing of air quality – is sufficient for the charges to bear some weight.”

“I can't think of a judge in Colorado who would tolerate that kind of legal fiction,” Reims stated bluntly.

“It's up to your clients whether they want to roll those dice,” Shedder shrugged carelessly. “Now... we will be willing to drop that charge on a plea deal. We'll also be willing to push for a minimum security prison sentence of ten years for Kevin, with the possibility of release with oversight after seven.”

My dad shifted as if he were about to speak, but Peterson reached around behind me and put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

Shedder took a moment to take a drink of water, then continued. “We are being quite realistic with the consequences, you'll find. Arden Villin is very much alive and has made, what I am informed of, is a full recovery. I'm given to understand, as well, that Mr. Reims is fond of playing up the angle that 'boys will be boys,' but rest assured that will not gain the traction you believe it might in this instance. Your children have committed serious crimes – kidnapping being the most significant under Colorado law, which will stick – and there is ample proof as well as witness statements that we'll have no problem bringing forward.”