A/N: Heya guys~ Bits and pieces of this fic have been sitting around on my computer since November. This started, like, more than half a year ago. Haha. Ha. There are tons of fics like this just rotting away unfinished. Unlike most of them, this one seemed salvageable, and I always had a soft spot for this one more than the others. But yeah, since it took six months to get this out, it'll probably be a while before it's updated.
Uh... For those of you who weren't there when I was blabbing about this fic (like, everyone), it was totally the KKM producers' faults for putting salaryman!Yuuri right next to ninja!Conrad. I swear, they were just messing with our minds and expecting something like this monster hybrid-baby to crop up.
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I'm floating.
Weightless and – okay, open your eyes, Yuuri! Holy crap! I'm bodiless, too?! Everything's transparent down there! This isn't exactly what a man likes to see – shimmering blue water through his, you know, transparent bits.
And yet… Strangely, besides being surprised, I'm not freaking out as much as I should. I mean, a guy loses his body, becomes some sort of floating ghost thing, and isn't scared? That's strange. Very, very strange.
It's so warm here, though. I just realized that this floating sensation is soothing, like the gentle waves of the ocean on a calm day.
Once, when I was really little, and we were still living in Boston, my mother took me out on a ferry, like the ones tourists use. It was just the two of us. I think she probably had a fight with my father, and wanted to get away.
She trussed me up in a dress and took us down to the pier. Everyone probably thought we were mother and daughter. God, that's so embarrassing… Right. So my mother has this obsession with super-girly fantasy things, and she really wanted me to be a girl so she could play dress up with me. Well, I turned out to be a baseball boy, but that didn't stop her.
Hmm… Now that I think about it, maybe she gave me some sort of complex? For a while there, you know, when I was a teenager, I kept telling myself that I was 100% heterosexual. I probably thought that by admitting that I'm sometimes attracted to other men, it would make me less of a man, and maybe I'd start liking my mother's frilly dresses or something. Bleh. Lace? No thanks.
But anyway, we were on the boat out on the Atlantic and the rocking put me to sleep. I slept so deeply that my mother had to carry me all the way back home. I only remember that day through photographs, but my mother says that's when I started having this affinity for water. Not that I'm the next Olympic diving champ or anything, but I always seem to find myself attracted to water, whether it's sitting by a fountain at a park, or playing out in the rain.
Everything's so blue here. So nice…
I'm sinking into the liquid until there's nothing but blue all around. The warm waves that are wrapped around me feel stronger than just water. They feel…like arms.
What?
I turn around to see-- Shit!
It's a man. H-he looks just like me, only not. His hair is longer and his eyes. They aren't human.
This guy pulls me closer and since my body's so sluggish, I can't get away. He smirks as he leans in to whisper something into my ear, but I can't hear a word he's saying. There's only the dull feeling of being submerged in water, the pressure surrounding me on all sides.
I keep sinking.
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Chapter 1: These things happen all the time in comic books.
"Yuu-chan!"
Mmmph… What?
"Yuu-chan! Wake up!"
"Ugh…" I lift a hand to blearily wipe away the sleep from my eyes.
"Really, Yuu-chan, you're going to be late for work. I can't believe you slept through your alarm again."
"What?!" I bolt out of bed, glancing at the clock. The red numbers blink back sullenly, as if mocking me, except clocks are inanimate and I don't have time to be having this conversation with myself! Now is not the time to theorize about anthropomorphism!
"This is bad! Really bad!" And I'm usually an early riser, too! I've always been a morning person! I have no idea why this happened two days in a row. It must be that weird dream.
I keep mumbling to myself as I rush into the bathroom to make myself slightly more presentable. "Omiya station to Tokyo…25 minutes, no, 30 minutes. If I just miss the train, I'll have to wait for the next one. That means I barely have any time to get to the station?! This is bad!"
Rushing back out, I put on a suit as fast as I can, not caring if my socks don't match, which they don't. One is solid and the other is striped, duly noted. I pick up yesterday's tie and throw it into the briefcase – I can put it on during the commute.
As I come to a skidding halt down the stairs, Mom calls out for me to at least eat breakfast before I go.
"There's toast and omelets. Oh, and little octopus wieners!" Mom beams. She picks one out of the skillet with a pair of chopsticks, the tiny, meaty octo-shaped wad of pork smiling lopsidedly at me, cooking oil glistening on its pink casing.
I swear that thing is winking at me.
I can feel my eyebrow twitching, and I notice that I've stopped to stare. Dad is also staring, having lowered his newspaper to glance in her direction.
"Umm… that's okay, Mom. I've really got to go. Toast will be fine."
"Call me Mama, Yuu-chan! Mama!"
Scrambling to shove a piece of toast in my mouth, I nod at my father and do a 180.
I barely see his answering nod of acknowledgement before I'm out the door, careening down the street like my ass is on fire. Yeah, because something – ahem, someone -- else is going to be fired if I don't kick it into gear! God, that was such a bad pun!
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That dream from this morning is still lingering on my mind. I've been having dreams like that lately, though I don't think it means anything.
Once I got on the train (on time, thank god), my brain went back into snooze mode. Part of me still thinks I'm floating off. Ah, snap out of it, Yuuri!
That's right. My name is Shibuya Yuuri, 23 years old. I'm an average guy, about as average as you can get. When I was in school, my hobby was baseball, and I guess it still is, though it's harder to find time to play now that I'm working. My older brother Shori always said I should put more effort into my studies rather than sports, but I never did follow through on that advice.
Maybe I should have. After all, I went to an average high school, got average grades, went to an average university, and got average grades. Shori is the mayor of Tokyo now, the youngest mayor in the city's history, and I'm just an average desk jockey at an average company. The only time I got my picture in the paper was when the whole family was standing with Shori during his inauguration. Sometimes when I go near the government buildings to meet up with Shori, people will say, "Haven't I seen you in the paper somewhere? Oh, yeah! You're the mayor's brother! Y-- I'm so sorry, what was your name again?"
That's right. They didn't even put my name in the caption. Did I mention that I'm just an average guy?
When I was in middle school, I still had dreams about being a professional baseball player, even though I was benched most of the time. That dream was ruined when I decked the coach. Long story short, he was an asshole.
All through high school, I still had silly daydreams about fantasy worlds with knights and magic, where I was the "chosen one" and had to save the world, though that might have been the result of playing too many video games. I never imagined that I would end up with an office job. Me? Baseball boy turned paper pusher? Who would have guessed?
Well, it's not like I can complain. Life's been pretty good to me. I've got friends, family, and a boring but steady job. I get to play with an amateur baseball club on the weekends.
However, sometimes I feel like a bit of a loser. With Shori off to pursue his ambitions, and Dad newly retired, that leaves me to be the obedient second son who stays home to take care of his aging parents. Living with my parents is pretty bad for my non-existent love life, too. I'm definitely not what anyone would consider handsome, and so I've never had any luck in love. You'd think the girls would want a nice guy – someone sensitive, with a sense of humor, and someone who's a good listener, but no. That's what they say, but what most of them really want is Jean-Claude Van Damme.
Well, whatever. It doesn't bother me too much. The days go streaking by, one after another, like the view from the train's window during the daily commute. It's nothing special, but I think this is what it means to be content.
Today is a day like any other. Except for this morning, the rest of the day will probably go by smoothly. I stand on the train, one hand holding onto the railing, the other clutching my briefcase. All around me are others getting ready to start their days.
A sharply dressed woman is checking something on her phone. Some high school students are chatting away animatedly. The middle-aged man by the door is yawning. From the corner of my eye, I see a smiling man stand up and offer his seat to an old lady. Yeah, that guy? Whenever I see him, he's offering his seat to somebody.
But this is how it is all the time. Some of these faces are getting very familiar since we share the morning commute almost every day.
Aw, man, this suit is so itchy! I'd scratch, but both hands are occupied. My neck is itching really badly, and I want to lift up my left hand, the one with the briefcase, to loosen up my tie, but it's fairly crowded in here and I'd probably end up smacking the big, creepy guy looming behind me. He's breathing really loudly through his mouth, like "Haaaah~ Haaaah~".
And he has garlic breath. It's way too early in the morning for garlic breath. What did he do? Eat whole cloves for breakfast? I know this guy. I've gotten stuck around him once or twice before, and it's always been unpleasant.
As I'm calculating the best route to inch away from Sir Stinksalot, the train is noticeably slowing down. The lights in the compartment are flickering and I gasp in confusion, turning my head side to side, looking for an explanation.
There's none to be found. The train has lurched to a stop now, and the schoolgirls in front of me are huddling close, gasping fearfully.
"What's going on, Michi?"
"I don't know, but we've gotta stay strong, Junko!"
Wait a minute. Michi? Junko? Aren't those two of the characters in Pulse? Is this Pulse? I never liked that film. Besides, it's not exactly a great time to be thinking about horror movies. That'll just make things worse, because I think we're in deep shit.
No, I stand corrected. Do or do not; there is no 'try'-- I mean, there's no 'think' about it. We are definitely in deep shit. The power's just gone out, and everything's dark for a second, until the emergency backup lights kick in, bathing everything in an eerie blue-green glow.
Any moment now, some guys with pantyhose over their heads will kick in the door to this compartment and demand our money. Or maybe they're international terrorists? Pantyhose Terrorists?! And here I was, thinking that I was going to have a normal day.
Thumping sounds are coming from above, like someone's walking up there, on top of the train. Michi and Junko are hugging each other tightly, and I think I can see tears start to form by Junko's eyes.
Turning to look around, I notice that the other passengers are all equally confused. There's gasping and whispering, and a few hysterical sobs coming from behind me.
Oh, God, Jesus, Kami-sama, Buddha, Amaterasu, Cthulu, whoever's out there, please don't let it be…
Sir Stinksalot.
This huge guy, with the build of a sumo wrestler, is sobbing incoherently. Something like, "I don't wanna die," etc., though I can't hear clearly through his sniffling. I was hoping that, despite his halitosis, he would be the hero-type and take charge of the situation, but I guess that's not going to happen.
That's the thing with Tokyo. You never know what kind of odd people you'll meet. Mom always said that big cities like Tokyo are scary places. It's been less than half an hour since I left, and already I miss my hometown. Seriously, things like this just don't happen in the suburbs.
This guy, though… It's really pitiful, actually. I kind of want to go over there and pat him on the back, tell him things are going to be all right. I'd do that if I weren't so busy freaking the hell out! We are so doomed.
We're so doomed that I can't even get in a calm breath. I'm just gasping alongside everyone else, wondering why the train conductor hasn't made an announcement yet, and--
Crash!
"Kyaaaaaa~!!"
I whip my head around in search of the noise. It's a high pitched scream coming from one of the girls.
A window has just been kicked open, shards of glass flying everywhere, and why are things going according to my imagination? It's not right!
The man who jumped in is all in black, with pantyhose over his head. That doesn't cover his ponytail, though. He really should have tucked that in if he wanted to be sure no one would recognize him, although…
I suppose it won't matter if we're all dead.
Yes, we're probably going to die. He has a large rifle – one of those that are straight out of an action flick. Please let it be a realistic cosplay accessory. Please let it be made of plastic. Pleasepleaseplease.
Bam! Bam!
He shoots a warning round that blows through the metal plating above us, screaming at the people to shut up. For a while, the crying escalates until he levels the gun at them. Okay, so it's real. Now where is Jean-Claude when you need him?!
Pantyhose Terrorist has his back to me, and is shouting something to the people in front. I can't hear any specific words, but the people are all holding up their hands, then huddling down together on the ground, scooting as far into the corners as they can get. The blood is rushing through my ears so loudly that his voice sounds like a series of muted growls.
Besides my erratic heartbeat and quickened breathing, the only things I can hear clearly are Junko's sobs.
I know I should just stay here. I'm useless in these kinds of situations, really. Shori took martial arts lessons, which was a pretty practical decision. On the other hand, I ran around swinging a bat without a care in the world. I can't fight, unless a tussle out on the playground is considered fighting, or maybe the one time I accidentally got caught up in a drunken brawl during college. And now I don't even have a baseball bat or an empty beer bottle.
What am I going to do? Whack him over the head with my briefcase full of marketing proposals?
What good would it do if I died first, and then everyone got blown up anyway? That's what my logical side thinks. However, with a gulp, my traitorous body disjointedly lurched forward. I push through the crowd and put myself in front of the two girls, shielding them.
I'm such a fool, but I don't want her to cry anymore.
"Ano, excuse me, Pantyhose-san… I mean, Terrorist-san… Could you please not blow up the train? There are women and children on board!"
Pantyhose Terrorist paused, but didn't turn around. I don't think he's listening to me. That's…well, if I were in his position, I probably wouldn't listen to me, either, but it's still really annoying.
Is he angry that Japan keeps pushing for climate change regulations at the G8 summit? Is he going to bomb a train just for that? They can't do that! We're pacifists! Listen here – war is bad, and so is global warming.
"Listen here – war is bad, and so is global warming."
Crap. Did I say that out loud? Oh. Oh, he's turning around. He's looking at me strangely.
Granted, what I just said isn't the norm for a person trying to stop a hijacking, but that doesn't mean he has to give me The Eye. My gaze flickers to the right to check up on the girls, and it looks like Michi is giving me The Eye, too.
That's cruel, Michi! It wouldn't hurt to have some sympathy for the guy who's trying to save your life here! And…failing at it…
Intimidating black boots stomp their way over, and I'm forced to snap my attention back to the situation at hand. Each footstep brings me a step closer to doom. I have to talk him out of this!
"Who do you think you are, punk?" he growls at me, waving the huge assault rifle closer and closer to my face as he stalks forward.
I swallow and my jaw is opening and closing, but nothing's coming out.
It's hopeless and I'm going to die.
He's poking me in the chest with the business end.
"Huh? I asked you a question. Who do you think. You. Are?"
Each punch in his words is marked with a stab of metal right above my heart. How can I possibly get out of this? I'm looking through his pantyhose-covered eyes, but don't see even the smallest flicker of hesitation.
I shut my eyes and prepare for the worst.
"Hey! Leave him alone!" Michi! You saved me!
…But wait. I'm supposed to be saving you! …And Junko's still sobbing behind us, along with Sir Stinksalot. They're clutching each other, little Junko only coming up to his lower chest, drenching his shirt with tears while his snot drips down to her hair.
Anyway, the terrorist looks really angry now. His eyes are shifting between us. The rifle that was pressed to my chest is still there. Well, for what it's worth, with another person supporting me, I feel we have a better chance at survival.
He'd kill us, but the panic that would cause might outweigh the benefits of getting rid of a small nuisance. No, he's just decided to keep us as hostages, right?
"I'm gonna shoot the guts out of these blasted meddling kids right here as an example to all of you!"
"Would you let us go for a Scooby Snack?"
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?"
It's no use! He doesn't know what I'm saying! (I don't even know what I'm saying!)
So Pantyhose Terrorist doesn't like American cartoons. But what are the chances of someone coming up with a line like 'blasted meddling kids' without ever having watched that show? He's too corny to be real!
Michi shoots me another dirty look and I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make things worse!
It's time for a different tactic.
"Eh… Ah… Excuse me, sir… I… I…couldn't help noticing your hair. I like it! Is it a new fashion?" I smile as charmingly as I can with cold sweat dotting my brow.
He paused again. Yes! I'll get him to talk to me. Start with compliments, then work your way up to guilt-tripping. Eventually, it will be, 'Your mother didn't raise you to be like this, Terrorist-san,' and he'll say, 'You're right! I'll turn away from a life of crime and go back to my home in the countryside,' or something like that.
"…Are you mocking me?"
"No, of course not. The ponytail and buzzcut combo is…unique. In a good way. Uniquely good." Actually, it's gross, and this is coming from a guy who can barely throw on a t-shirt and shorts from the 'clean' pile on his off days. Maybe I should call him 'Cropped Pony' instead of 'Pantyhose Terrorist'? It fits.
"Oh, well, in that case…thank you."
And that's all it takes! See? I knew we could solve all our problems by talking things through like responsible adults.
"Thanks for the compliment, but that's not enough to save your life!"
No. It can't be. It can't end here.
He's lifting up the rifle again, and pointing it right at my head. Everything slows down until I feel like I'm going frame by frame. The cool metal comes into contact with my skin. The force of his thrust tilts my head back. Everything narrows down to a dull roar. The others are screaming and crying. I'm shaking uncontrollably, seeing, feeling that endless black hole between my eyes.
Still in slow motion, his finger inches for the trigger. He's pulling it back by the millimeter, and…
Bang!
…
I'm alive.
Sweet breaths are filling my lungs in sharp shudders, nearly painful in their intensity.
The world zooms into focus.
Holy shit.
Somehow, I've landed on my ass. There's a man in front of me, and it's like he came in between me and the terrorist. He's got a grip on the gun, tilting it up and away, and I can see another hole in the side of the train from where the bullet must have landed.
I can't get a good look at him from this position, so I inch over just a bit, scrabbling across the floor. Okay, maybe I scooted back because I'm scared out of my wits, but I do want to see what my savior looks like.
He's dressed all in blue, with most of his face covered like a ninja. There's a cape flowing behind him, and what appears to be a scabbard hanging from the utility belt around his waist. Is he carrying a sword?
That's all I can make out before he's wrenching the weapon away from Mr. Cropped Pony Terrorist and smashing in the bad guy's face with his fist. With the rifle held away from him, he's not so tough, but this ninja guy is badass.
Cropped Pony stumbles back, staggering and clutching at his nose.
"Heheheh…"
Whoa, did he just laugh? He should be in major pain right now! Blood is dribbling out from between his fingers. I'd bet his nose is broken pretty badly.
"Heheheh," he laughs again, "So we meet again, Blue Wind. I'm sorry to say that you're too late! I hope you know I have reinforcements in the other cars!"
Aside from how cheesy that speech was, I'd be worried about this "too late" business. If it weren't for the fact that his voice is all nasally now… Pfft! It's okay if I laugh, right? I've just narrowly escaped from certain death, we've got this awesome superhero ninja guy on our side, and the enemy is half slumped against the wall, cackling at us through a broken nose.
The Blue Wind narrows his eyes and calmly says, "Oh, I know all about that. In fact, I took them out before I came here."
Now Cropped Pony is staggering upright. The Blue Wind is on him in less than a second, roundhouse kicking that son of a bitch so hard that he flies back out of the window where he came in.
He's clinging to the outside of the window, shards of glass cutting his hands. He looks all the more worse for wear.
I can't help it! I start snickering at him. Give up, man. You've got a woman's silky, sheer, beige colored leggings over your head, and you're up against a ninja. There's no way you can win.
"Hey, you! Stop laughing!" He points at me with his bloody hands, anger radiating out from his bloody face.
And then all hell breaks loose.
The doors to the train cars in front and behind us are kicked open. Hands pry open the doors on the sides and people start streaming in from all the openings. No, they're not people! They're… I don't know! What in the world are these things?!
They're lurching toward us, like puppets without strings. They look like giant wooden toys, but they're faceless, and there's an ominous black aura surrounding them. At their entrance, everyone started screaming and crying again, even louder than before.
Leaping into action right away, the Blue Wind tears off the head of one of the evil dolls, then punches and kicks his way through more than I care to count. And they still keep coming! He's holding his own really well, but the ones that fall to the ground twitch and jiggle themselves together, smashed parts flying back together as if pulled in by some malevolent spell.
In the midst of all this, Cropped Pony hysterically cheers on his forces. He swings his bloodied fist wildly, egging them on.
"Go, minions! Go! Get him! Kill that-- Aaauuurrgh!"
All I see is a whip suddenly coiling around his neck. In the next second, he's gasping for air while the hottest woman I've ever seen gracefully propels herself off his back and lands in the train. She snaps her whip off his neck and cracks it once, twice.
"Never fear, the Love Crusader is here! Love will prevail!"
Eh? Shouldn't that be justice? Justice will prevail?
The Love Crusader is a leggy, buxom blonde dressed all in red, with a matching red mask. I'm not gonna lie; her outfit's pretty…risqué. By which I mean it looks like something you might see in fetish porn. (Please don't ask how I know this.) It also makes me wonder how some women can run in heels, much less exact vigilante justice in heels.
She whips poor Cropped Pony in the face a couple of times before deciding that he's not much of a threat anymore. Then she turns her attention to helping out the Blue Wind. Luckily, her weapon has great reach. With a few well-placed strikes, she can knock down a whole row of them!
I'm entranced by the raging battle. Sure, I've read about superheroes and seen them on the news, but I never thought I'd get to see them up close!
In the midst of all this, I suddenly hear Cropped Pony shout out in exasperation.
"Goddamnit!" He points at me with one bloodied finger. "Get that guy! The one who laughed! Take him as a hostage and let's get the hell out of here!"
Wh-what?! Who, me?!
"Hey, let go!" Lifeless wooden hands grasp at my arms, hauling me up from the ground. My briefcase is still clutched uselessly in my left hand. I'm kicking at them, but nothing's happening! It's like they don't feel pain!
…Well, duh, Yuuri. They're not human! They probably aren't even alive!
"Let me go! Oh, god, let go!"
"Hahaha! You're coming with us, chump!"
Cropped Pony drops down outside the train. He's out there somewhere in the dark tunnels, and the two dolls holding onto me are pulling me toward the broken doors.
"I'll take care of things here. You go save that man!" The Love Crusader's voice is the last thing I hear before I'm dragged out into the darkness, speeding away to who knows where.
I can't see anything in the darkness, but I shut my eyes anyway. It's a bumpy ride. One of the dolls slings me over its shoulder before continuing to run and leap through the subway tunnels.
Argh! I feel so helpless! Seriously, I'm a full grown man. Do I really have to play damsel in distress here? Part of me is frustrated at how screwed up this is. The other, larger, more immediate part of my mind screams that this is the worst day of my entire life, and if the Blue Wind rescues me again, I'm going to thank him profusely and offer to buy him lunch.
And if not, well… Hopefully it'll be a painless end.
I can see light shining from behind my closed eyelids. We must have made it out from underground. A few more bumps and jostles later, I tentatively open one eye for a peek and…
"HOLY SHIT PUT ME DOWN-- I MEAN, DON'T YOU DARE PUT ME DOWN!"
The dolls are scaling the side of a building. We must be at least ten stories up. Cropped Pony is in the lead, and he's surprisingly agile for a man who's already taken that much of a beating. He's using what looks to be wires to swing up.
We're on top of the building now, and the dolls have all gathered around him. He looks around for an escape, but then a clattering sound comes from behind us.
It's the Blue Wind, and he's quickly gaining ground! Yes!
This is the part where they have a climactic showdown, right? I just hope I don't get dangled off the side of a building like what happens to heroines in the movies or to Michael Jackson's children.
Ooh, I probably shouldn't have made that joke. It's a good thing I didn't say it out loud in front of a crowd or something. Is it still too soon to be making those kinds of comments?
While I'm engrossed in my thoughts of political correctness, the Blue Wind has brandished his weapon and is laying waste to the enemies. Just like I thought, he does have a sword! I guess it was just too packed back on the train for him to bring it out, but he has it now as he swoops in toward my direction. Before he can come to my aide, Cropped Pony throws his wires around the hero and the two of them face off.
"Stop right there, Blue Wind! You wouldn't want anything to happen to this little guy, would you? Ahahaha!" The pantyhose-encased man tightens the wires while the dolls surround his prey. "You'll be begging for mercy before this is over!"
"And you're like a calendar because your days are numbered!"
This is the final battle?! The villain is completely unoriginal, and the hero is… No, no, I just heard him wrong, that's all. He didn't really say that. I mean, if he did, then that doesn't bode well for the fate of mankind for our heroes' witty retorts to sound so stupid. He might not be the next Deadpool, but if he's going to be cracking jokes during battle, I expect them to at least be Spiderman level. That joke…? Clearly wasn't. Hell, I couldn't even tell if it was a joke or not, it was so cold. He said it so seriously!
Nevermind. I'm sticking with my first theory: he never said that.
The Blue Wind slices the wires off in one swift motion, to which his opponent…uh…screams like a little girl. Oh, jeez. This fight is getting more and more pathetic as it goes on. I must look terrible, with my brows drawn down and mouth open in disbelief.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cropped Pony jumping across the roof to another building and then dropping down into an alley. He's obviously lost, so he's running away. My savior is hacking away at the dolls; the one that has me in its grasp is ripped off and then its head is sliced clean in two. I slump to the ground just as the things give one last jiggle and collapse in piles. It's almost like their strings have been cut, and I think I can see vague traces of smoke evaporating from them.
Is it magic? I have no clue. I'm not even sure I believe in magic, though my mom insists it's real.
"Are you all right?"
"I think so. Maybe. Actually, no. I think I need to lie down." I fall down the rest of the way, spread out with my back on the cool rooftop concrete. I've had more excitement than I can handle for one day.
"You're sure you're all right? Can I take you somewhere or help you call someone?"
"Um, thanks, but I think I'll be fine in a bit."
It's at this point that the full extent of the situation comes crashing in. Here I am, a supposedly normal guy, cloudgazing while surrounded by the smoking remains of demonic marionettes. A superhero is gazing down at me with much concern in his warm brown eyes. Awkward~
I quickly push myself back up and pat myself down to make sure I still have all of my belongings. Good, everything's in place. I turn to the Blue Wind and steel myself to say what I need to say.
"Thank you for saving me, sir! Twice, even! Thank you so much! It's truly wonderful that the city has such an upstanding young man like yourself at its service." Do I sound like an old man when I say that? "But actually, if you don't mind, I think there is one thing that I'd like to ask of you. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I mean, and-- Could I get a lift down from this building?"
He smiles at me from behind the mask; I can tell from the way his eyes crinkle. And then he nods and picks me up like I don't weigh a thing.
"Whoa!" I can't help but shout. It's kind of embarrassing, actually, for a full grown man to be carted around like that.
The Blue Wind pulls something out from his belt, perhaps a rope or a similar item, leaps off the building, and swings his way down. He does it all one-handed, too, which is amazing.
When he lands, he lets go of me, and I take a few steps back. Luckily, we're in an empty alleyway, because I would hate to have anyone see me involved in something like this. The publicity, the questioning… The fact that I'm the mayor's brother… None of that could lead to anything good.
"Thanks!" I call out one last time.
"Fare thee well, good citizen!" He waves to me one last time before leaping back into action.
Oh, great. He just had to say something like that in the end. It's all I can do to give him a strained smile in return.
Don't get me wrong! The Blue Wind seems like a really nice guy! I'm truly grateful to him for saving me, too. He's a superhero, after all, and I'll bet he's one who actually likes helping people as opposed to the revenge-driven kind.
Still, isn't he kind of…corny?
I watch as he uses his grappling hook to swing between the buildings.
Well, damn. Now I'm going to be late for work.
-----
Next time on Everything Has to Attack Tokyo:
Yuuri (finally) arrives at work. His co-workers aren't all there in the head.
"Hey, Shibuya! Wanna see my stitches?"
Then he unexpectedly comes into possession of mutant superpowers and ends up joining the Blue Wind's sentai team.
This team isn't quite what I expected. I gotta say, Cheri is one amazing woman to give birth to an entire crime fighting task force. Never before had I entertained the possibility that the Red Ranger could be everyone else's mom. Not only that, but Green Ranger is my boss, Blue Ranger's sense of humor hurts me, and Yellow keeps glaring daggers at me. What the hell is his problem, anyway?