Mind Games - Chapter 61 (Patreon)

So, here's a confession.

Through whatever twist of fate, chance, or luck... I'd never had to endure an extended stay in a hospital. I suppose it is for that reason that I think of 'a few days' as an 'extended stay,' in fact. Logically, that term should apply to being stuck in bed for a month or longer. Irritating as though it might be, I needed to count myself lucky that I wasn't being held to the longer time period for care.

“-and Ms. Todoroki, the doctor will be by in a few hours to examine your leg and certify your release paperwork,” the nurse stated, giving each of us a bow. “Mr. Shinso, given you'll be our guest for a little while longer, feel free to let me know if there's anything you need.”

“I'm fine right now, thank you for the pitcher of lemonade though,” I gave her a nod. “Water was getting a bit repetitive.”

“Of course, please use the nurse call function if something comes to mind,” she smiled, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door.

“The staff is awfully helpful,” I muttered, shifting in my bed and popping a few joints to get comfortable as I grabbed another book from the stack I'd brought back.

“They usually are when a hero gets injured,” Fuyumi stated, flicking through a few apps on her phone, a surprisingly normal activity which I'd never seen her do.

“I'll add preferential treatment to the list of perks, right along with-”

My phone rang, interrupting me.

I sighed, looking at the ID. “Well, at least it's not another cheesecake pic from Himiko. Seriously, that girl...”

“Ah, that reminds me... after your call,” Fuyumi stated.

I tapped the phone and held it up to my ear. “Hey, Dad, what's up?”

“Oh, um... I just wanted to make sure you were recovering alright. Since, I um...”

I frowned. “Dad, did I hear crunching in the background just now?”

There was silence for a few moments too long.

“Ah... my quirk acted up, when I found out. I haven't finished cleaning up yet.”

My eyebrows knit. “Brain Storm isn't a physical quirk, though.”

“You've never seen-no, of course you haven't, I didn't-right. Well, when it gets especially turbulent, passes a certain threshold...”

I reached up to rub at my forehead. “Right. I'm fine, Dad. The school's nurse, Recovery Girl, the one with the healing quirk? She dropped by after we talked yesterday. My wound isn't anywhere near as serious as it was, and it wasn't even life-threatening in the first place.”

“Hitoshi... I'm your father. You can't blame me for worrying.”

“But I can stop you from breaking all of the glassware in the house,” I replied dryly. “When I get home, we're having more quirk-control sessions.”

“Ack-ah, Hitoshi, I don't-”

“And I do,” I replied preemptively. “If your quirk has actual physical manifestations, we're redoubling our efforts to get it under control. I'm your son, you can't blame me for worrying.”

Another beat of silence.

Dad started laughing, a slow and tired sound. “Okay, okay... if you say you're not too badly off, I'll trust you. I know... you mentioned you had other tricks up your sleeve if things got really bad.”

“And I didn't have to use them,” I replied, flicking a glance at Fuyumi, who wasn't trying to hide the fact that she was listening in. “But without doing something crazy, taking an injury that wasn't even potentially lethal-”

To me.

“-was a strategic choice to keep a senior combatant alive and able to more properly defend me,” I finished. “It was the rational choice to make.”

Fuyumi snorted lightly, and I nodded at her.

“I don't have to like it. Alright, I'll just go... back to cleaning up, I guess. Let me know when they release you, I'll hire a car so you don't have to take the train,” he ordered.

“Will do,” I nodded, shrugging off the impulse to fight him on it.

A few more exchanges and I was able to hang up.

“You were telling the truth,” Fuyumi noted, “your father does know.”

“I told you, I don't enjoy lying when I don't have to,” I sighed, leaning back and grabbing at a book again. Of course, the inverse of that statement was also true. If I had to lie, I might as well enjoy it. “You had a question?” “Uh, yeah... right,” Fuyumi fumbled for a moment, obviously searching for words. “So... I've heard a lot of rumors... or, well, there have always been rumors about a villain who could hand out quirks.”

She was watching me carefully, looking for tells.

I sighed and shut my book. “What precisely do you want to know about him?”

She blinked, surprise flashing over her face. “You... know him?”

“I know of him. I know information regarding him, his existence, and his capabilities and/or rough approximations thereof,” I confirmed. “Again, what do you want to know and, if it's feasible, I'll tell you.”

“So... this underworld figure doesn't have anything to do with...” She trailed off, waving in my general direction.

She’s still searching for a ‘rational’ explanation, then. Best to head this one off at the pass, though. Investigating whether or not I’ve got any connections to him would lead her to a bad end.

“No,” I replied firmly, my voice especially deadpan as I glared at her in a mild way. “I'd rather get shot – again – than work with that shithead.”

“Wow,” Fuyumi grunted, and I raised an eyebrow. “No, sorry, it's just – you don't usually curse like that, not at people. It's just impressive, I guess? To see someone get under your professionalism like that.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes. “Well, anyway, no. I've got nothing to do with him.”

“So he's real, then,” Fuyumi stated. More of an observation than a question, but the request for an answer was implicit.

“He's real,” I nodded. “He's also not someone to fuck with, at all. He has a completely warped sense of reality and won't hesitate to cripple or kill someone if they're not...”

She caught my grimace and furrowed her brows. “Not what?”

I ran my tongue over my teeth hesitantly, but ended up forcing myself to say it. “Plot relevant.”

“Plot... relevant,” Fuyumi echoed slowly. “Like... he thinks he's living some kind of story?”

“You're not going to leave this alone, are you?” I asked her tiredly, to which she shook her head resolutely. “Okay, so – yes. He thinks of the world around him as a story. He's not delusional enough to believe he's actually in some kind of... anime or manga where plot contrivance will make him explode into the sunset and come back the next day ready to fight the good guys again or anything like that.”

“He just ascribes archetypes to people, then. I get it,” Fuyumi nodded. “Believe it or not, it's not actually that rare. Though, even the villains usually imagine themselves as the heroes of the story.”

“Not this guy. He thinks of himself as a modern demon lord, the underworld kingpin who controls all crime in Japan,” I drawled, drumming my fingers on the book in front of me. “Anyone who tries to take action against him gets killed, has their family killed, or has a horrible crippling accident unless they've been...”

I waved my hand nebulously in the air. “I suppose 'personally acknowledged' by him, would be the best way to put it. If you're just some cop, you can have a molotov cocktail thrown into your window while you're sleeping. But if you're a big-name hero, there are certain standards that he holds himself to. No friends or family, no cheap shots at obvious weaknesses, at least until you're dead. After that, the whole 'worthy opponent' thing goes out the window.”

The man was seriously twisted. I'd known that going into my research, but goddamn did the rabbit hole go deep. Whenever the current One for All bearer was missing, Mr. Potato Head tended to select a few heroes across Japan and put them through the ringer to try, weeding out the ones who couldn't keep up until he had one that he could meet in a pitched battle.

I imagine it served some greater purpose in that 'striking down such a powerful foe' would cement his reputation in the criminal underworld for another decade or so, but personally... I thought that the entire drama he created was simply his bizarre version of what passed for 'fun.' Raising someone up at the cost of valuable minions and resources as they captured pieces of your organization only to humiliate and crush them publicly?

Yeah, that sounded like him.

“If he can really give out quirks...” Fuyumi hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose the urban legends I've heard from some criminals... I should look at them in a new light.”

“Best not to,” I told her sternly. “This guy's above your pay-grade, Fuyumi.”

She scoffed, an action borne of thoughtless instinct. “Hitoshi, I'm the second-in-command of the number two hero in the country. If he's above my pay-grade, then who's responsibility is he? All Might's?”

I held her gaze steadily and let the silence between us say all that needed to be said.

“Oh,” she blinked, her face paling slightly. “Oh.”

“Feel free to approach him, in private, if you really want to know more,” I told her, holding her gaze for a moment longer. “Leave my name out of it, but you do hold a high-ranking position, you're right. He'll likely give you a bare-bones rundown.”

“But you know more,” Fuyumi observed, finding her mental footing again.

“Further information on this subject is deemed need-to-know at this time,” I informed her, my tone serious but not unkind.

“And I don't,” she replied, her tone... frosty.

I sighed and reached for my lemonade. Actual, real lemonade. Not the processed stuff. Classy. “If I cornered you, had blackmail material sufficient to complicate your life by an order of magnitude, and demanded information on... let's say Moonfish, what would you do?”

Fuyumi, to her credit, took the question seriously. And I estimated her intelligence to be high enough that she understood the implicit critique of the power imbalance of our current dynamic hidden in there as well. She leaned back, chewing over the proposal I'd handed her.

“I'd tell you that you didn't need to know,” she replied with a sigh. “Because asking those types of questions about a villain like that implies that I'm going to do something that requires that knowledge. And if you were asking about a villain like Moonfish, who's killed heroes before, I'd read you the riot act over it.”

I gave her a nod, satisfied with the answer.

“What I'll say is that, if you ever meet a villain with holes in their palms wearing a tailored suit and a dark helmet over their head... don't hold back,” I told her gravely. “And definitely call for backup. Because the part of his legend that he doesn't advertise is that giving quirks isn't the only thing he can do.”

Fuyumi paused, her eyes slowly widening as she understood what I wasn't saying.

It was... an interesting bit of lore that I'd found trawling the dark web. Offers to give quirks, yes. But few offers to take them, except on the heteromorph boards. They were much more secretive about those offers, and they appeared to come from different places. It was a game part of me was familiar with, the benevolent tyrant. The wrathful demon against his foes and the generous voice of wisdom among his allies.

“What-” Fuyumi opened her mouth to press me on it, but the door slid open at that moment.

What could I say? I had great timing.

“Sister,” A polite voice called out, long red and white hair styled into a careful braid down their back. Instead of a scar on the left side of their face, though, a large black eyepatch wrapped around the full span of their nose to the orbital bone and back up over the eyebrow all the way to the temple.

Beyond that irregularity, though, the figure was perfectly dressed. An iron and starched uniform from a local private school, no stains or blemishes, nails that were painted, but only in a glossy finish rather than actual color – an infraction in most Japanese schools, though not a serious one. Everything spanning her shoes to her backpack was in perfect condition.

“Please excuse the interruption.”

“Shoko,” Fuyumi sighed, relaxing as she combed a hand through her hair. “You should knock first.”

“Forgive me, I simply wanted to make sure that – sharing a room with a boy – you would not be engaged in anything... scandalous,” Todoroki Shoko commented idly with a flip of her head that fluttered her bangs.

Fuyumi sputtered.

I pursed my lips, looking her over with more than just my eyes. Body language, what I could read of her soul, the cues and tells of her clothing's wear patterns...

Hmm.

“Like what you see?” She asked me.

“I have a girlfriend,” I replied bluntly, relaxing back into my bed and picking up a book.

“Smart answer,” she smiled, more honesty to the expression now, but I didn't rise to the bait, replying only with a grunt as she pulled a large set of boxed lunches from behind her. “Fuyumi, I've brought you and your roommate an early lunch.”

“You're supposed to be in school, Shoko,” Fuyumi sighed, nevertheless accepting the oversized bento.

“I explained the situation to the headmaster and he graciously allowed me to skip this period given my outstanding academic performance overall,” she replied smoothly, her smile the very picture of innocence.

Fuyumi merely sighed again, taking her share of the food.

Then Shoko turned to me with the other half and, with my book still raised, she bowed at the waist, deeply. The food was extended in my direction, her eyes directed towards the floor. I hummed in acknowledgment.

“You took a bullet for my sister, thank you,” she said solemnly.

“I did the calculations and understood the angle of entry and the position of my own organs,” I replied bluntly, a fact that the doctors hadn't truly believed. That wasn't my quirk, after all, and few people possessed both the capacity and speed to make that judgment, let alone act on it. “Knowing that I understood the wound wouldn't be fatal, you shouldn't exaggerate your gratitude.”

Still, I accepted the lunch.

I was, after all, still replacing blood, tissue, and nutrients.

“Would Fuyumi have survived if you hadn't acted?”

Proving that I was still mortal, my gaze slid to the young woman in the opposite hospital bed, who had grimaced and clenched a fist as she averted her gaze from mine. The ensuing silence, a beat too long, was apparently enough of an answer for Shoko.

“Then my gratitude is not exaggerated,” she stated, rising from her bow and smiling. “I'll leave my contact information when I go. Please call me if you – or your girlfriend – ever need anything.”

Her fingertips dragged along the edge of my sheets as she made the offer, my leg beneath them only a few centimeters from the line she traced.

“Anyway, Fuyumi,” Shoko started anew, turning to her sister and stepping close for an embrace. “Father has said you'll be released before my school properly lets out, much less clubs are over. So I look forward to seeing you at home. I should get back now, though, if I don't want to be late for my next period.”

“You should,” Fuyumi nodded, then smiled. “Thank you, Shoko. It means a lot that you went out of your way like this.”

“I'm just glad it was well-received,” she smiled again, then turned back to me and put a card on my bedside table. “Father has suggested I make time to help you with certain babysitting duties, Shinso-san. Please confirm a good time whenever you feel well enough to resume regular duties. I'll be going now. Fuyumi, if you would take the lunch cases home, I'll clean them tonight.”

Then she slipped into the hallway.

The door shut.

There was silence.

“She certainly has... a lot of personality,” I volunteered slowly, slipping out the chopsticks that had come with the bento.

“Don't even think about it,” Fuyumi ordered me, her voice level and threatening.

“She and Himiko would end up in a cat fight ten minutes after meeting if left to their own devices,” I replied dryly. “So, no. I'm not even thinking about it.”

“Good,” Fuyumi sighed. “Dad and I thought about introducing you and Shoko, you know? But between how busy we've gotten and seeing you with Himiko, we didn't want to rock the boat too much.”

“Thank you for the meal,” I dipped my head in the traditional expression of gratitude. “You also probably realized that any attempted match with me would exacerbate all of her worst personality traits.”

“I feel like I should be offended on my sister's behalf,” Fuyumi groused, then shook her head. “But, yes. I wasn't going to say it like that, but after watching what you and Himiko are like... I kind of want my little sister to have a better shot at a normal life, after everything my family's been through.”

I hummed in response, busy shoveling food in my mouth.

“She's a good cook,” I grunted.

“She is, yes,” Fuyumi smiled, eating at a more sedate pace.

“I want to finish before the next person comes in,” I replied casually, reaching for more lemonade before pausing and sighing in an aggravated fashion. “Dammit, I'm an idiot.”

I gave a flick of my wrist and a coke popped into existence.

“Wait, what?” Fuyumi asked, blinking rapidly as I cracked the can.

“I totally forgot I have an emergency stash of coke,” I replied, taking a deep pull from the carbonated beverage and enjoying the near-instant shot of caffeine straight to the brain. “Oh, that's good.”

“I, wait – I thought you need to-” Fuyumi stuttered, looking between me and the wall where I'd jumped Home last night.

“I have a small-scale storage pocket that I can more readily access,” I replied, shoveling more food in my mouth and chewing roughly before swallowing. “I keep emergency supplies in there.”

“Like soda.” Fuyumi observed, still staring at the can on my bedside table.

“Yes,” I informed her bluntly. “Also a medical kit, some exotic solutions to non-standard problems, hacking tools, and some survival gear.” The fact that said survival gear included heavy ordinance could be bypassed as a topic of conversation for the moment.

“And you keep all of that... next to cans of soda,” Fuyumi reiterated insistently, disbelief in her voice.

“I also keep bottles of water and some food, if this is about my health,” I told her, my face as straight as I could possibly hold it.

She groaned aloud and shook her head, turning back to her own bento. “Throw me one.”

I popped another coke out, made a mental note to restock soon, and tossed her a can that felt like it had been pulled directly from the fridge.

“Thanks,” she grunted.

I hummed in reply, my mouth already full again.

And that was how we passed the time, Fuyumi occasionally turning to me and opening her mouth as if she was going to ask for something, but obviously changing her mind and returning to her meal. Which, as I'd said, was delicious. For whatever faults she had, Shoko was an excellent chef, easily on par with Himiko. Which would annoy the girl as well. Even if she had nominally disapproved of Kyoka's confrontational and non-traditional punk attitude, the fact that Himiko could reassure herself that she was the 'superior woman' in terms of household duties.

Shoko would contest that spot.

And, judging from our short interaction, she'd do so intentionally.

No. Hard pass. Absolutely not. I was not going to put up with constant mean-girl sniping around me.

Then the thread of fate I'd been feeling finally pulled close enough that I could trace it directly... and relax my grip on one of those 'exotic countermeasures,' I'd so blithely informed Fuyumi of.

Not her. Someone close, but not her.

“Finish up, we're expecting visitors,” I told Fuyumi, shoveling the last of the food into my mouth and draining what was left of my drink.

She stared at me for a moment, wiping her mouth absently as she puzzled out my declaration. “Who?”

“Non-hostile,” I replied. “Connected to the mess at the courthouse. Their presence is... unusually heavy. Focused. Experienced. Professional hero of some stripe, I'd wager.”

Fuyumi hummed and nodded. “Interpol Agents given the villain's file, most likely.”

Sure enough, it was only a few minutes later that Charcoal knocked heavily on our door. “Got someone to see you, Boss-Lady, Bootstrap. They have Interpol papers, look like Americans.”

“Send them in,” Fuyumi replied, giving herself a final once-over to make sure she looked somewhat presentable.

“Roger that,” he rumbled, sliding the door open. “You're clear.”

In stepped...

I blinked in momentary confusion, for multiple reasons. One question was answered, the woman in the lead having an identical resemblance to the villain we'd taken down.

If true, the other pull I felt may have been a third sister.

Triplets. Connected Quirks. Fate. Destiny.

But it was the other woman who piqued my interest, because I knew her name.

“Let me start off by apologizing for approaching you before you're even discharged from your hospital beds,” the dusky-skinned woman spoke in too-perfect Japanese, her green eyes looking over us as she came to a stop between and in front of our beds. “It isn't my intention to stress your recovery, but given the individual we're pursuing, I'm afraid time is of the essence.”

She cleared her throat and shifted slightly in her travel-worn and slightly wrinkled suit. “This is Lachesis, a contractor under the employ of Interpol. And I'm her handler, Agent Mirage – Central Intelligence Agency seconded to Interpol.”

I sighed, leaning back in my bed again. “As an underage part-time employee with a senior hero on-site, I'm yielding full authority on this matter to the Pro-Hero Hot Ice.”

Fuyumi's shoulders drooped as she shot me a glare, understanding full well I'd just flawlessly passed the buck to her.

~~~

Well, Hitoshi's still in the hospital, how much trouble can he get up to?

Hmm... no one's died, at least?

The 'recovery arc' continues apace, with the next chapter or two to go before Hitoshi has finally had enough of being trapped in a bed to jump out a window. Also, Fuyumi has questions or something. Eh, that'll pass, I'm sure.

Next up? Butler Boy.

Oh, and poll totals - Keeping in mind that these totals add up ALL VOTES across ALL TIERS on both Patreon and Subscribe Star.

Mind Games - 226

Paldean Knights - 150

Butler Boy - 148

The Hand We're Dealt - 139

Industrious - 108

Those are the top winners this time around. Which, I would like to note, is not terribly different from my regular polling process! So I haven't been screwing things up, which is good news.

If there's demand for it, I'll post the full results for all ten, but these are the top spots that matter.

Until then, thank you for all your support and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!