Chapter Text
"The past will often try to attack the present with the pain of your memories."
- Boogiepop Phantom, Episode 6
This morning didn't distinguish itself from others, couldn't. It blended into all the previous ones, melting into a flat gray wall that barred me from any specific instance worthy of recollection.
The only notable thing that stirred life into my brain, hazy from fog of sleep, was that it was morning. The soft light of day barely penetrated my thin curtains, easily separating itself from the harsh noon sun I was used to waking up with.
It felt kinder, somehow.
The previous night had gone well, so I'd woken up with a splitting headache and- I thought as acid bile forced its way up my throat- a great fucking excuse to celebrate.
Wisely realizing I was unable to make it to the toilet, I leaned past my futon and threw up on the tatami mat. Hot, brown liquid splattered on the floor, gushing in short spurts from my throat. I convulsed, and convulsed again, each spasm purging more bile from my body. With a final push my stomach finally emptied itself and I took a minute to breathe.
For a moment there was only the sound of uneven breath and the roar of blood rushing through my ears. As the seconds ticked on, soft whispers slipped past the noise.
The TV was still on, quietly playing some cheap drama, judging from the dialogue.
“You've realized it now, right? He's a monster. He’ll never see you as anything more than a cheap toy.”
The man's harsh words were answered with the soft weeping of a woman, mumbling something unintelligible through her sobs.
I need a cigarette.
I ignored the throbbing headache and dry mouth to reach behind me to grab my carton and lighter. Before I could even see the familiar logo of my favorite brand, my hand touched something warm and wet.
My vomit had bounced off the floor and splattered on the carton.
My mouth tightened into a line, and I wiped it on my night shirt. It was all going into the wash anyway- did I have detergent?
I absentmindedly flicked my lighter on before remembering the landlord threatened to kill me the other day if he caught so much of a whiff of smoke in the apartment. I lit the cigarette anyway and breathed in, the hit of nicotine giving me courage. Then I fought the beating in my head to stand up and shuffle to the balcony. I didn't bother putting on any pants to slip outside, comfortable my soiled nightshirt hung low enough to cover any perverse body parts.
The landlord's little dog started yapping as soon as I slid the glass door open, spinning around in circles and tangling itself in the rope linked to its collar. It was the type of dog you’d normally see in a rich girl's purse, but the landlord never treated it with special care. Apparently it used to belong to his daughter, but something tragic happened to her- I don't know- and now she couldn't take care of it.
Before it could wake the neighbors I flicked an old cigarette butt from my ashtray down below. The dog snapped it up immediately, chewing and swallowing as fast as it could.
I laughed.
Moron, don't you know cigarettes are bad for you? I thought as I brought my own back to my lips again.
Dog pacified, I enjoyed my cigarette in peace.
A normal morning, not deviating in any way from the others.
When I stepped back inside, now fully awake, my eyes landed on something unusual.
It was a poster from a movie I hated. A friend bought it for me as a joke, since I wouldn't shut up about how bad it was. A small hint to stop bitching about it. A piece of black electrical tape had been pasted over the main lead's eyes after I declared, in a drunken stupor, that I didn't want an actor that bad to see me naked.
It was strange. It was really strange. That poster had been destroyed years ago. I hadn't lived in this apartment for a long time.
The man living in the unit under me lost control of his meta-ability, and the whole place had gone up in flames.
This must be a dream.
The realization hit me along with a wave of sadness. This was a snapshot- a tiny slice of a life I couldn't return to. It hadn't been great. In fact, it’d been pretty shitty more than fifty percent of the time but…
Hot tears needled the corner of my eyes, the sensation more real than a dream should allow.
I could never go back.
The grumpy landlord, the nicotine addicted dog, the ugly poster, revolving days of work and sleep and the small sparks of joy in between.
Why was I brought back to a moment like this? Dull, gray and as common as a river stone.
The TV drama was still playing.
“Can we just put an end to this already?” The heroine asked someone off-screen.
Her voice sounded so defeated it couldn't even count as pleading. Like no matter how she strung her words together, the outcome would be the same.
“We?” The man speaking sounded almost confused.
My tears blurred the screen in front of me.
“I'm the only one who can end this.”
On that note the dream ceased- a movie reel running out of film. It remained, for a time, only as a faint memory, lingering like an echo in my head.
I woke up.
My second life started in tears. Hunched over, weeping into my hands. The sobs wracked my body so intensely I couldn't gasp for air.
Frustration, confusion, fear, despair, there wasn't a name for this pain. I simply felt.
As I sobbed the ground beneath my feet shivered. It was rhythmic and constant, like waves crashing onto a shore. Each one stronger than the last. Then, as if sick, the earth heaved.
Vibrations ripped through me, feet to head. The ground disappeared from beneath me as I was thrown into the air. The earth shrank away from me through eyes blurred with tears.
Earthquake?
The single word, my first conscious thought, tethered me to reality.
Even as I slammed back down, rubble thrown up with me pelting my body, I held on to it.
I pulled myself up on all fours, blinking through the dust and debris.
The city. I was in the city- a city? An area I didn't recognize.
How did I get here? What was I doing?
I'm going to be late for work.
Right, I'd overslept.
The dust still hadn't cleared, nor had the ground stopped rumbling. Was I in the middle of a terrorist attack? My ears were whining like a bomb had exploded near them, nothing else could overcome the sound.
If I was late again my manager was going to fire me, then I wasn't going to make rent. Maybe that's why I'd been crying.
I stayed there, pressed flat against the ground as I waited for the ground to stop shaking. Rubble pushed up against me but I forced my head down anyway, letting chunks of concrete dig through the soft skin of my face.
Now put your arms above your head. The emergency training I'd half-assed in high-school suddenly resurfaced, though it wouldn't do much good if something big fell on me.
I stayed flat against the ground, waiting for the shakes to subside. I tried to keep my eyes open, blinking frequently to keep dust out. The crying had stopped completely, eyes only watering from the smoke.
Slowly, or maybe in half a second, I tuned back into the world. A dull roar, more felt than heard, reverberated through my chest cavity.
That wasn't a sound a human could make. Not a normal one.
My head whirled around, finding a bright spot through the dim clouds of debris. With no time to think it through, I started crawling.
I knew what this was.
Another roar. Louder this time.
Every inch forward was agonizingly slow, like swimming through molasses. I kept low to the ground, wincing as rough chunks of concrete scraped past my tender knees and dug into my bare hands. I coughed, inhaled dust and coughed again. Another roar ripped through my ears, more screaming. I tried to move faster.
The corners of my eyes heated up and I blinked to keep the tears away. Please, please, I don't want to die. I'll go to college, somehow- if it hasn’t been destroyed- and get a degree. Find a good job if there are any left and get married. I'll have a normal, non-mutant kid and let my parents become grandparents. My kid won't be some freak who uses superpowers to hurt others. I'd treat everyone nicely, and stop bitching people out behind their backs. I'll live as a model citizen, I won't waste anymore of my precious life!
Something large shattered the ground next to me and the force tossed me skyward.
For a long second I was floating, surrounded by fragments of glass of asphalt, suspended in the air with no sense of up or down.
I dropped to the ground, bouncing like a ragdoll. Chips of concrete rained down on me.
Ah. Nevermind. I rolled a few times landing on my back. It's too difficult for someone like me to change.
Now I knew for sure what was happening. Vibrations from what seemed to be a large beast rumbled through the ground, shaking my body.
No- not a beast- a human.
I reached up through the settling dust, ignoring the stinging in my eyes. I waved my hand, mesmerized by the flashing particles darting through my fingers.
Who says I wasted my life? I'll waste as much as I damn please! After this, I'll use it as an excuse to lay around even more! I would die staying true to myself. Promising to change in my last moments wouldn’t change the life I’ve led.
I flexed my fingers and frowned. Why are my fingers so stubby?
The ground was shaking again.
I sat up, the adrenaline consuming the pain- confusion overriding the fear.
My hands were different. Fingers stubby, flesh more supple- I'd painted my nails yesterday, hadn't I? I looked down. My legs too. I was wearing clothes I'd never owned. It looked like it belonged to a child-
A child?
I cried out as something broke through the smoke. A long snake-like limb wrapped around me, forcing the air out of my lungs. My sense of gravity whirled as my body was flung around. Instinctively I thrashed around, trying to worm my way out. In response it tightened- and I gasped for air.
When I was pulled from the smoke into the light I realized the thing wrapped around me wasn’t just snake-like, it was a snake tail. Brown patterned scales barely contained rippling muscles- it led up to a sharp faced man with a human torso, the flat hood of a cobra blooming from his shoulders to his ears.
"Do you think you’ll be able to do anything to me when this child’s life is on the line?” He snarled, revealing a forked tongue. My stomach dipped up and down as he waved me back and forth. Nausea overwhelmed me but I couldn't move the muscles necessary to throw up.
“I'm not a-”
My mouth remained open without finishing the protest.
I didn’t recognize my own voice.
The man briefly tightened his grip on me. "You should realize your place, kid. I don’t want to have to kill you."
My place. A kid.
"Scum! How dare you use a child as a hostage!" Someone yelled.
They were talking about me. I was the child. There was no denying the reality of the situation. Everyone here perceived me as a kid, then I was a kid.
Did some freak here have a meta-ability that turned me into a child? Was it an illusion?
My eyes darted around. Shattered windows, settling debris, busted concrete and-
My train of thought ran off the rail into oblivion.
There was an entirely unexpected genre of freak surrounding us.
The people yelling at the man to put me down, the ones calling him scum and yelling about hostages- they were all wearing tacky costumes. Every single one I could see was clad in a skin tight suit with gaudy colors and even gaudier patterns. They were surrounding us in a semi-circle, or maybe a circle- I couldn’t turn around to see because I was afraid if I moved, cobra-man would turn me into a gimmick squeeze toy with pop-out eyeballs.
What are all these tokusatsu protagonists doing here? American superheros!? Do they think they are American superheroes?! What the fuck is with the goofy costumes? Halloween. Is it Halloween?!
Did they think they were going to stop this man? Save me?
And not one of them stopped to think about how tasteless it was to wear a get up like that to a life or death situation?! Hot tears pricked the corners of my eyes. My emotional runaway of frustration and confusion finally hit a target.
I didn’t want these self-important assholes to be the last thing I ever saw!
A sudden absence overtook me- the oppressive heat from the tail replaced with cool empty air. The chill stung against my scrapes and bruises. I took a desperate gulp of oxygen.
For a simple, beautiful moment I floated, airborne.
Violent wind whipped past me and-
“TEXAS SMAAASH!!”
My eyes could only open to slits against the angry wind, but I still saw him. How could I have not? A hulking man dressed like a superhero from a comic book, larger than life in more ways than I was capable of understanding in that moment. The wind created from his arrival blew away the dust from the collapsed buildings. The sun, unburdened from the haze, illuminated the scene, glinting off his golden hair and spotless white cape. His fist was already buried half-way into the cobra-man's torso. The snake’s eyes rolled into their sockets. His cheeks puffed up before gobs of spittle spewed from his fanged mouth.
Before the wind blew me away the superhero- there was nothing else I could possibly call him- grabbed me by the arm and pulled me towards his chest. His hand was larger than my head. He skidded on the ground before coming to a stop.
“There is nothing to be afraid of!” He bellowed, “Why? Because I am here!”
The booming laughter following his declaration vibrated through my chest like a bassline at a concert venue.
“How are you doing, little one?”
Was he asking me? My head was spinning, the world was tilting back and forth, left and right. Even though I knew he was holding on to me, standing in place, I couldn’t help but feel like I was being spun like a basketball.
“I’m a- I- yeah. Mm-hmm.” Was my only response.
It might have been the lack of oxygen, the suddenness of the attack, not knowing my location, not knowing the time of day, or a combination of all of those things, but I couldn’t muster a coherent, adult-sounding response.
Police swarmed the unconscious cobra-man- er, now that he was unconscious, he was just a man. They used a massive device- one I’d never seen before- to trap him and, presumably, keep him from moving or using his meta-ability.
And then the reporters showed up.
At least, I think they were reporters. They were wearing nice work clothes, holding microphones and recorders, some with cameramen following them. Microphones were pushed forward and questions streamed forth.
“All Might, did you-”
“Look over here, All Might!”
“Weren't you supposed to be in Hokkaido today, All Might?”
But they couldn’t be reporters, because what vigilante would stay for an interview? That’s what this man was, right? And those other people in costume? Vigilante justice wasn't accepted by the wider public. Even people who used their meta-abilities to help were shunned because it was those very abilities ripping society apart.
But he stayed, letting the cameras take his face and costume in full. Answered question after question.
While he answered questions I caught my breath, letting my body warm after the sudden, numbing chill of having my blood flow constricted.
All Might.
What a name! I'd call him arrogant if he hadn't just saved me with the ease of a fish swimming downstream.
My eyes swept over his face. Blonde hair, blue eyes, persistent smile, handsome to a fault. Honestly, if he hadn't been wearing the ridiculous superhero costume I might’ve gone for it, he was my type.
But type or not, getting to know strange people was kind of a hobby of mine.
I tapped one of his pecs (rock solid) to get his attention. The fabric of his costume was strange- I hadn't felt a material like it before. I also couldn't help but notice my stubby, child-like fingers.
“Sir?”
He looked away from the reporters and down to me, “Yes, young miss?”
“Why are you wearing that?” I gestured to his peacock adjacent get up.
A look of confusion flashed over his face. “Why, this is what I normally wear! Heroes are always on duty!” He threw his head back and laughed, making a show for the reporter's cameras.
Oh? A lens hog? And he really is trying to be a superhero from a comic book?
“S-soo you're doing it for attention?” I asked, coughing a bit to hide my laughter. Despite the circumstances I felt like I'd just won the lottery. In this world, there was no shortage of weird people, but even among the weird there were those who stood out. This All Might was a shining beacon of weirdness. How had an attention whore like him survived this long? He must have every gang in the area looking to bump him off. The more raw strength your ability provided, the more desperate different groups were to either absorb or kill you outright for being a threat to their meager share of power.
He must be crazy strong, can't believe I've never heard of him before!
“Or is it performance art?” I offered him an out. “Or maybe it's a joke? You're trying to cheer everyone up?”
He didn't even try to hide his surprise. “Huh? Young miss, I'm a hero! Have you really…not heard of me?”
I couldn't hold it in anymore, laughter burst from my chest. He was 100% genuine, good god.
“Listen, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but no one's going to take you seriously with that goofy-ass costume on,” I said, giving him my best serious face once my laughter had died down.
His mouth dropped open, smile still unfaltering.
“W-well- you see…young miss-”
I blinked. If he was truly a delusional narcissist, he wouldn’t have been so easily rattled by my comments. He really did think the costume was cool. Guilt tugged at my heartstrings.
I waved my hands around frantically. “I think it’s really cool that you’re being true to yourself! I like people who act however they want even if they get shunned by society-”
All Might balked.
“-but what I think and what others think are two different things! The tokusatsu get up is…” I looked him up and down, pursing my lips. “They'll think you're some delusional larper who's completely lost touch with reality.”
“Tokusatsu?! Are kids these days still into that!?” He coughed. “Nevermind that! Let’s find your mother! I'm sure she's worried sick!”
I was so floored by him implying tokusatsu wasn't popular with kids, I forgot to tell him I was an adult and didn’t need my mom. In fact, before I could argue that tokusatsu was more popular than ever, my stomach dropped then leapt to my chest as he jumped into the air.
The reporters, who'd been quiet while we'd spoken clamored forward, but they disappeared into specks as we climbed higher and higher.
“Now, let's see…” All Might, airborne, shielded his eyes from the sun. “Where would she be…what does your mom look like?”
When he looked down at me, with my hand over my mouth, trying to keep myself from throwing up, he gasped.
“Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot some people can't handle going so fast, HA HA HA.” He laughed like he was still on camera.
When he landed I wriggled out of his arms, doubled over and vomited onto the sidewalk.
“Erm-” he scratched his head, looking more apologetic by the moment. “Are you doing alright? I'm really sorry.”
“It's okay.” I braced myself against a brick building, trying to use the rough texture to anchor me against wave after wave of nausea and vertigo. My legs felt solid as jello. “I throw up a lot.”
When I turned around to lean against the wall, he was still there and oh my gosh was he tall. I had to tilt my head all the way back to see his face.
“Don't you have better things to do then worry over a sorry thing like me?” I said.
He'd dropped us off in a more secluded area, no reporters or passersby. Set against the concrete jungle, and without a crowd surrounding him he looked even more out of place wearing his costume. Like a unicorn in an industrial factory.
“I've got to make sure you’re alright…”
His words felt genuine. Guess his hero act wasn't superficial.
“Erm, thank you for saving me.” A faint warmth haunted my face. I hadn't felt any hostility from him so I'd forgotten to temper the nasty part of my personality that bubbled up whenever I found something amusing. What a terrible first impression!
A switch flipped in him. Suddenly all sparkles, he gave me a thumbs up. “No need to thank me, little lady! Your safety is reward enough!”
My eyebrow twitched. Can you stop vomiting cliches every second sentence? But I took a deep breath and continued. “And I'm sorry for saying all that stuff about your…outfit, let me properly apologize to you. I'll buy you a drink later ah- when I'm an adult.”
It’s dangerous to be friends with vigilantes, but that’s never stopped me before.
“Ha! Wait until you're older before saying things like that.”
I yelped as he scooped me up with a flourish.
“W-wait- don't jump in the air again! I said I was sorry for the costume thing!”
“Worry not! I'll stay grounded! Just need to get you somewhere safe.” He paused. “But I was shocked, this costume is really popular with kids.”
“I'm not surprised, kids love that stuff. Imagining themselves dressing up to go defeat the bad guys.” A sudden yawn overtook me, the adrenaline was finally wearing off. “…it's comforting to think all your problems could be solved that easily. With just a little will power and strength.”
He was silent, so I continued.
“It's fine if you're trying to appeal to kids, but it's the adults that need more assurance nowadays.”
“I know,” he said in a shockingly serious tone. “People need something to believe in.”
“Something consistent.” I nodded, blinking a few times. His pace gently rocked me back and forth, the warmth of his arms made me feel like I was in a cradle.
“Unfaltering.”
“You're trying to be something like that for everyone?”
Did he have a martyr complex or something? Sheesh!
“They need a symbol to look up to. I want people to know they're safe when they see me.”
“Oh, how wonderful,” I murmured, eyes fluttering shut. His strange behavior suddenly made perfect sense. “But symbols don't have human hearts.”
This man seemed marked for death. It didn't sit right with me.
“Don't go and…” I mumbled, head drooping. “...decide what everyone needs all by yourself. That arrogance is…”
My attempt to discourage him unfinished, I finally slipped into the haven of unconsciousness.
I was, to put it plainly, not myself.
When I first woke up at the hospital, the woman who called herself my mother held me and cried. Without meaning to, I closed my eyes and inhaled, a weird sense of deja vu haunting me. Her scent was familiar. Comforting. Like I’d been in her embrace and smelt her and her off-brand shampoo my whole life. Her name was Saiki.
According to the hospital nurses and Saiki, I was indeed a young girl. An injured, confused young girl who’d just been through a traumatic incident. My protests of ‘this is a misunderstanding!’ And ‘someone used their meta-ability me! I'm actually an adult’ fell on deaf ears and finally died in my throat when I realized I had a tail.
Like, an actual tail. Growing from my backside. Like an animal.
Stomach bile flooded my mouth as I watched the dark thing wriggle back and forth like a worm. It wasn’t some robotic part attached to me, I could feel it. Pain from the bruises I’d received, the muscles straining as I waved it back and forth, the hospital’s air conditioning raising slight goosebumps over the layer of skin covering it-
When I ran into the restroom to vomit, I almost screamed when I got a glimpse of my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Hair consisting of two colors (horrid) and a set of small horns on my head.
It was the face that made it finally sink in.
Unquestionably human, indisputably not me.
The eyes too round, the nostrils the wrong shape, the bottom lip too plump. The smallest changes should've been blotted out by the shallow movie-plot situation I'd found myself in, but in that dim bathroom mirror it was the only thing I could concentrate on.
When the nurse cheerfully asked me if I wanted juice after I exited the bathroom I only dully nodded my head.
It was moments later, when I was sitting on the hospital bed, sipping my juice, someone knocked on the door to my room. The woman who called herself ‘mom,’ stood up from her seat beside my bed. “Thank goodness, that must be the doctor.”
Her face fell as soon as she opened the door. I couldn't see who it was from my vantage point on the bed, but I could tell it was a man from his voice. I winced as I leaned forward, trying to listen in. The fight had done a number on my body, even though I hadn't participated at all.
When the powerful clash, it's the weak ones who get trampled on.
I jumped as the man shoved a small recorder past the entryway into the woman's face.
"Are you sure she can't make a small statement?” I heard him say. “Not everyone gets the privilege of being saved by All Might."
"All Might saves dozens of people everyday, it's his job!" Saiki snapped, angling her body so he wouldn't be able to see inside. "She's recovering right now, and she doesn't need strangers coming in and making her relive the incident.”
All I could see of the man was a long arm poking past the threshold. Thick, curly brown hair grew up to the knuckle. Judging from the cheap recorder, he was probably some independent 'reporter' that ran a blog. Or maybe, if we're getting fancy, someone who worked for a small, independent newspaper.
"Lots of kids should know that All Might and other heroes are always here to protect them,” he protested, “seeing another kid get saved would be really-"
"Get out!"
I sipped on my apple juice, watching.
All Might was a 'hero.' Everyone here knew him, and everyone here expected me to know him too.
Is he a vigilante? Do they call vigilantes ‘heroes’ here?
Some people used their meta-abilities to protect others from people with dangerous meta-abilities. Some vigilantes didn’t even have super powers. They normally focus their efforts on small areas- like neighborhoods- so maybe he's locally famous? It would explain why I hadn't heard of him before. Though, even some local vigilantes got national press coverage if they were involved in a big enough incident. Some of it was even positive, much to the police’s chagrin.
But an entire police precinct could be rendered useless against a couple guys with dangerous powers. All they could do was moan about the balance of power shifting and twiddle their thumbs. Of course people lost faith in them.
And he’s going by such an…attention grabbing name. Not to mention his get up and loud shouting. Prominent vigilantes are the first ones to be struck down. By the cops or other individuals with super powers. Maybe vigilantes calling themselves heroes while prancing about in elaborate costumes was a local thing. There were those other costumed individuals I'd seen, though I'd completely forgotten about them when All Might showed up
All Might seems like a big deal.
Just before Saiki finally kicked him out, I managed to catch a glimpse of the hairy man's face. Long canines jutted out from beneath his lower lip, one of the few features that protruded through his thick fur.
I choked on my juice mid sip and coughed.
So he was one of them. Someone with a meta-ability.
He must've been independent, what reputable news agency would put a heteromorph on their payroll? It wasn't fair, but no one would talk to a reporter with strange deformities!
After she slammed the door shut Saiki rushed to my side. "Did he scare you? Sorry, I don't know how he found us! Are you okay?"
I covered my mouth, my cough settling down. I nodded my head.
The woman's brow furrowed. “I hope the doctor gives us the results soon. If that reporter can find us then…” Her voice trailed off as she lost herself deep in thought.
“Mu- Mom?” I called out to the woman, testing out the title, trying to let it roll off my tongue as naturally as possible.
She smiled, happy to see some initiative from me. “Yes, Miyo?”
There was a painful twinge in my heart when she said the name. Miyo.
I was and was not myself.
The extra limb, a devil-like tail, growing from my backside twitched under the blanket covering me. No matter how many times I rubbed my eyes, or touched it to confirm its validity- it never went away. It wasn't a phantom or illusion. It was real- I could feel the stiff hospital bed sheets rub against it. Say nothing about the horns growing from my head- the doctors say one had been chipped in the destruction but that it should grow back.
The strongest divide between the normal me and this me was the meta-ability. No matter how I looked at it, devil horns and a tail were symptoms. I was supposed to be normal. Scientists predicted these abilities would become the new normal, and the people without powers would all but disappear, but I wasn’t supposed to have one. I was born a conventional human, no extra limbs.
The second divide was age. An adult that suddenly became a child.
Was there a meta-ability out there that could switch people's bodies? I might’ve heard about that before.
I wasn't sure what was happening to me, or if I was even in danger, so I decided to just go with the flow.
"He wanted to talk about All Might?" I asked.
"Don't worry about that." She waved her hand. “Probably just some fanboy who follows All Might. No biggie." She smiled as she ran her fingers through her hair. "You need anything? The doctor said your injuries aren't too bad, but I can ask for something to make you feel better if you're in too much pain."
"No." I was feeling pain. From places I'd never hurt before. Even my tail but-
Was it safer to leave the hospital, or stay longer? I don’t know anything about this woman but I don’t have a choice on whether or not I leave with her, since everyone thinks she’s my mom.
She didn't seem dangerous, but I couldn't tell what she's feeling.
"Let's go home as soon as possible," I said. Going with the flow, that’s my way.
“If that’s how you feel, I’ll tell the doctor.”
I watched her purse float to her shoulder without even a wave of her hand. I swallowed.
I’d decided I wasn’t going to college before I even finished high school, but instead of coming clean to my parents, I convinced them to let me take a gap year to study for the entrance exam of a prestigious, still functioning university. That act of cowardice gave me one more year to tell them I was going against their wishes.
“The entrance exams are coming up soon.”
My friend's words hung between us. It was only after I’d taken out a cigarette and lit it up did I turn to him and grin.
“Oh, that old thing? You should know my feelings well enough.”
He wrinkled his nose and rubbed his face. “I wish you’d put those repulsive things away when we’re together. I can’t even escape.”
I eyed him up and down. “Yes you could. Drama queen.”
A sudden shower of rain trapped us under a store awning. Despite the surprise, despite our lack of umbrellas, he hadn’t soaked up a drop. Of course, he refused to extend any generosity to me. Even laughed at me during my mad dash to shelter. ‘What’s the hurry?’ he'd called out mockingly. My button up shirt was hanging out to dry on the doorknob of the shuttered business, leaving me in only a tank top.
I took a drag, letting the nicotine embrace my anxiety. “Sorry for being less than sympathetic.” I flicked some ash into a nearby puddle.
He clicked his tongue, but I could tell he wasn’t going to push the issue. There were more interesting things to focus on. “You only started smoking when I brought up the entrance exams. So, tell me what you’re going to do. Don’t tell me you have no plan.”
With the nicotine in my veins and the calming pitter patter of rain on the awning, my problems felt like they’d drifted further and further away, like they were already a distant memory. One day they would be.
“I’ve been working part time like crazy. I’ve even talked to a landlord in the city. Put down a deposit and everything.” I took another satisfying drag. “I’ll be able to live on my own, at least until the end credits.”
“How irresponsible.”
He said that, but truthfully, it was easy to tell he didn’t care. He just liked going through the motions of scolding me for this and that. He was like me, mostly following the whims of his mood. If he was really upset about my behavior, he’d let me know.
"I work, I smoke, I drink. And then I sleep, wake up and repeat the process. That's one way to be a responsible adult, far as I'm concerned." Hanging out with friends, eating good food, seeing a movie, arguing online with strangers about how good of a movie it was, video games, late night walks, parties, mixers, enjoying the company of an offbeat weirdo every so often. That was happiness.
I’d rather do that than waste my time trying to live like a ‘normal’ adult. Especially when the concept of ‘normal’ was being crushed into a fine paste.
He chuckled. “You’re so dull. A complete waste of a human being.”
A couple of high-school students ran past, holding their school bags over their heads. I heard their giggles long after I lost their figures to the rain.
"It's not wrong," I murmured against my cigarette, suddenly lost in thought. "to keep things low stress." People busted their ass in high-school to get into a good college and then busted their ass in college to get into a good company. Then that company would work them to the bone- and even when there was nothing left but bones they’d devour the marrow of the workers they called family.
That's how our grandparents did it. But none of us could live like that anymore, not even with great effort. Well, I wasn't going to play that game.
I gestured in the direction the girls ran. "Those kids don't know if the National Diet will be functioning tomorrow, or if the prime minister will be alive. The police aren’t any help.” I took another drag so powerful the entire cigarette almost turned to ash. Last time I tried to meet up with my friend I'd had something come up and couldn't make it. The train I would've been on went missing- reappearing as a hunk of twisted metal.
At any point in time you could end up on the news at the whim of someone with a meta-ability. A superpower that put them in a special class of humans. Those abilities were used to destroy good people’s livelihoods, for no other reason than because the wielders felt like it.
“So-called white-collar jobs that need a degree are disappearing anyway.”
The business serving as our refuge from the rain had been abandoned. All along the street you’d find the same. Dingy interiors, windows boarded up, storefronts shuttered forever. The owners abandoned the city or were unable to stay in business because people were leaving- or too afraid to stray far from their homes.
“My parents are clinging to the past like a life preserver and making me go through the motions of a middle-class daughter, but we can't live the way we used to.” Even the word middle class couldn't be affixed to us anymore. How were they planning on putting me through college? Taking a loan from the yakuza?
“Are you embracing the future or running away from home again?”
“Doesn't matter. Why bother with college when it might be destroyed the next day?” I shook my head. “I’m too small. My sense of right and wrong is completely worthless. If I were to face any actual consequences from all this fighting and change, I wouldn’t be able to change a damn thing. ” I dropped my cigarette, crushing it under my heel. “Fighting against the flow is for teen protagonists. I’ll find my own path within and live as I please.”
I blushed suddenly, realizing how similar I sounded to my imagined teenage protagonist. Luckily, my friend was more embarrassing than I was when it came to sounding like a comic book character, so he didn’t take any notice.
“Nobody can be certain of anything.” He mused. “That’s what they’re lacking. Certainty.”
“Right, right. They can’t be sure of anything. It could snow in April and we’d just have to accept it.”
I took out another cigarette, but before I could light it he put his hand over mine.
“That’s enough. I’ve already proved to you how good of a friend I am by letting you have one, it’s time to return the favor.”
“No need to nail yourself to the cross for my sake,” I grumbled, but I slipped it back in the carton.
“People need something to believe in,” He continued, “A source of strength they can rely on.”
“My mom told me that nothing’s ever been certain, but has it ever been this bad before? She said it would even itself out eventually, but…” The puddles outside our awning were growing larger by the minute. The rain wouldn’t end anytime soon.
“Since people crave it, they’ll naturally fall in line the first chance they get, like how a ball can’t help rolling down a hill.” He stared out into the rain, eyes faraway. “Whoever gives them the easiest, most convenient option, that’s who they’ll follow.”
“As long as they don’t have to change their preferred lifestyle too much, yeah.” The rain tapping on our awning turned into a hiss as it picked up. I stepped back as wind battered the droplets passed the safe zone into dry land.
“Do you hate these abilities?”
Without looking at his face I already knew what he was really asking. I also knew his lips would be slightly turned up, the appearance of a calm smile. Like it didn’t matter what my answer was, he’d keep doing whatever he wanted. To be honest, I really liked that confidence about him.
“I don’t hate you,” I answered.
A weight landed on my head- his hand. It was an affectionate action, almost brotherly. I pushed it away.
“So cold,” He cooed. “And you’ve got goosebumps, poor thing. Just as cold on the inside as the outside.”
“I can’t be affectionate when I’m soaking wet,” I snapped. “And why are you smiling? What do you have to smile about?”
"Because you'll still be you, no matter what happens. Perhaps, in this age of uncertainty, that’s one of the few things I can be certain of.”
“Did you get that line from a novel?” I huffed. “Don’t say cheesy shit like that to your other friends, they’ll see right through you.”
“Noted,” He said following a chuckle. “Will getting you warmed up put you in a better mood?” He held out his hand to me, the same smile still lingering on his face. “Let’s go. As long as you stay close to me, I’ll keep you dry.”
The longer this drags on the less and less it feels like a dream.
I didn’t know what was going on or what was happening to me, so the easiest thing I could do was nod my head and agree with people. Yes, I was a kid, just five years old. Yes, my name was Miyo Mirume. Yes, I would listen to my mother-
The sky was a deep black by the time we left the hospital. The only thing to show for it was a couple of bandages and doctors orders to take it easy for a few days.
We took the train to a run down two-story apartment building on(what I assumed to be) the edge of one of the city's residential districts.
I wasn't a stranger to living in these kinds of places, but I still grimaced when we headed up the stairs to the second floor. Maybe because I'd learned something new about my situation. Maybe because in some way, nothing had changed.
"How about it?" Saiki said, flipping the light switch without touching it. "We'll be staying here for a while."
Light flooded a one room apartment. The entryway merged into a hallway that even my childish body could reach out and touch each side. One side featured a countertop, sink and cabinets. Functionally, it could be labeled a kitchen. If you were generous. The other was a doorway, presumably to a bathroom.
Hopefully there's at least a shower in there.
In places like this you sometimes had to live without one.
The hallway opened up into the main room. Half empty cardboard boxes stacked sporadically throughout.
“It's still a bit of a mess, but once we get everything cleaned up it will feel like home.”
I didn't say anything as I soaked it in.
There weren't nearly enough boxes for three people. I was going to have to find out why Saiki was a single mother.
So this was a mother and daughter's first night in a new apartment? I felt like I was acting in a play without knowing the script, and I had to figure out my lines from the other actors' dialogue.
"Let’s finish unpacking tomorrow," Saiki said, yawning. "Do you want to take a bath before bed?"
"Uh…"
She set her purse down on the countertop. A light bulb went off in my head.
"I wanna play a game on your phone."
"It's too late for that, you need to get a good night's rest."
"But I…" There were only gatcha games on my old phone, I couldn't think of anything a kid would want to play. "...want to play an educational game…"
She was stunned into silence.
"Uh-huh…You can play tomorrow- where did you learn that word?"
"From educational games?"
She rubbed her temple. "Right. You can play tomorrow. For now-" She bent down and in one swift motion pulled up my shirt. "We can get cleaned up."
"Ah?" I stared down at a stranger’s body. "AHH!!!" I screamed, mortified by this body- mortified that someone would undress it so easily, mortified a stranger would so casually look at it.
I crouched down, attempting to hide myself.
"Shush! You'll wake the neighbors." She snapped, picking me up by my armpits.
"I dun wanna! I dun wanna!" I wailed, tears welling up. My new tail lashed back and forth.
The sudden outburst was almost as embarrassing as being stripped naked, I'd lost control over my body and my mind.
“Stop- we- we’ll make a bad impression! I want to get along! Get! Along! With! Our! Neighbors!”
I wasn't able to put up much of a fight. My body was small and I was already exhausted from the day's events. I submitted myself to taking a bath with my new mother.
"Don’t pout," Saiki said as she scrubbed her body. My face was half underwater, turned away from her. "I'll get some banana pudding from the store tomorrow, okay?"
I wanted a beer.
I blew bubbles in response.
That night we slept on the same futon. And in the morning, Saki finally let me have access to her phone.
Of course, I didn't want it to play games. Phones are a compact brick of information. I needed answers, about heroes and villains, about meta-abilities, and where the hell in Japan I was. Maybe even what had happened to me.
When I saw the phone's lock screen, things started falling into place.
The year from the date on the lock-screen was 2XXX.
Over a hundred years in the future.
Perhaps what a person considers ‘normal' can only be defined when something abnormal crashes against it.
- “Getting A Hold of Normality” in Essays from the Dawn of the Supernatural (Originally published in BizarreEro)