My World My Justice Ch.38 (Patreon)

It’s been almost a week since my ‘doxing’ and the fall of the Empire 88, and life as a cape has continued without any major problems.

Which means more public appearances, charity inaugurations, ribbon cuttings, and community events. I even went back to that elementary school to say hi to the kids.

The revelation about my supposed Aryan origins didn’t really do much damage to True Might’s public image. If anything, the fact that I immediately went and arrested Kaiser right after the announcement seemed to cement public opinion firmly in my favor. The consensus online was something along the lines of “not even family likes Nazis.” So yeah, really hard to spin that narrative into something bad.

A really stupid move by Kaiser, honestly, but Futaba believes it’s some sort of scheme by the Gesellschaft pulling strings from overseas.

Although I have been approached by old classmates from Clarendon Academy lately. That’s been... strange. Very strange, and I genuinely don’t know what to think or feel about it.

These are people who knew the original me; not on a personal level, but just knew of my pitiful existence as a scrawny, struggling Daniel. It’s really hard not to think negatively of them, hoping to covet some favor or rekindle something that never existed so they can somehow benefit from my fame.

However, the guys who actually made my past life miserable? The ones responsible for the death of my only friend in this world? They apparently transferred to another state almost exactly the day of my disappearance.

Which is strange timing. 

Almost suspiciously precise timing, like it was premeditated somehow. No… this is probably the result of the company’s work in properly building and setting up the ‘extra’ origin story around me. 

As for the rest? I handled everyone the same way. Let them approach, let them talk and say whatever they wanted to say or lie about. Then I simply gave everyone a friendly pat on the head and feigned complete ignorance. After all, I’m True Might, the living incarnation of justice, and this ‘Daniel’ is a stranger to me. I have no idea what they’re referring to when they mention old memories and ‘shared’ history.

It was the cleanest way to cut ties with the past completely and start fresh. Whatever I was before, that chapter is closed. I’ll let Futaba try to track down those criminals, eventually. 

As for me? I’ll keep going.

Changing topic; the city itself is doing better in ways that feel almost surreal. The PRT has fully secured and is systematically cleaning up Empire 88 territory and associates, essentially making Brockton Bay free from parahuman organized crime for the first time in decades. Apparently, they’re planning some kind of celebration event and award ceremony for it by next week.

I haven’t been invited yet, so they’re probably still in the planning stages.

So now the PRT and the local government are occupied with fixing and rebuilding the mess the gangs left behind; restoring neighborhoods, providing services to communities that had been neglected for years, hunting down scattered ex-members still lurking around. Important but bureaucratic work, not exactly the kind that requires my direct intervention. 

And I’m okay with that.

Which pretty much leaves the city capes without much to do. Rumi wasn’t exaggerating; without active villains or gangs there isn’t really much for capes to do besides public appearances and community work.

And Futaba herself confirmed it. She has practically nothing to do besides sitting at her monitors and waiting, because even the probing attacks from outside gangs and villains trying to worm their way into the newly vacated territory have reduced to almost nothing. That’s what her contacts in the PRT said along with her own investigations.

But she believes that True Might has become a massive deterrent, which is still kind of baffling to me. Everyone knew True Might had taken down a Leviathan-sized Lung and came out without a scratch, and villains were still trying their luck back then, even if freaking Legend was around. But now, after taking down Kaiser in what was honestly a pretty anticlimactic five-minute encounter?

Now they’re scared?

Capes are weird.

So that leaves me doing small random missions from the company to accumulate a little more credits, and most importantly, actually training. Because I know that Leviathan is coming to this city. 

Probably.

Yeah, probably because I can’t really guarantee the Endbringer will target this specific city. Nothing is really stopping it from deciding to attack somewhere else entirely on a whim because of the butterfly effect, a lot has already changed after all.

Nonetheless, my friend is already trying to devise an evacuation plan, even going as far as quietly acquiring a few transport companies to facilitate large-scale civilian movement when the time comes.

As for me, I’ve been using the boat graveyard for training sessions. Instead of training Taylor, I’m training myself. It’s almost like that training montage from Mr. Incredible, except instead of train wagons it’s giant rusted cargo ships.

All for my Justice gains!

Which is how I end up here, doing bench press with half of a rusted cargo ship balanced across my chest. The massive vessel creaks and groans ominously as I push it up and lower it back down.

One. Two. Three.

But as expected, I don’t feel tired after doing dozens of them. However I’m still doing repetitions until I reach the hundredth one.

After reaching that milestone I carefully set the ship down and sit up, scratching my head thoughtfully.

How exactly does someone like me train? What’s the point of lifting weights that don’t actually feel heavy? At best, this is cardio. 

Do I need to try lifting entire buildings? Start stacking ships on top of each other until I finally hit some kind of limit? Is there even a limit?

I mean, I know there is a limit from my memories about Iron Arm, but the limits used were other warriors and those were bullshit.

I can only let out a sigh and stand up from the makeshift training bench, which has deformed and compressed under the combined weight.

I guess it’s time to crash at Futaba’s place. Maybe she has some ideas about how someone like me is supposed to train effectively. Or maybe we just end up playing video games, since she promised to always make time for that.

I walk toward the portal I left earlier, step through my apartment, and use the connecting portal to Futaba’s place.

Huh. Why does it smell like-

“WHAT THE FUUUUAAAH!”

The otaku shrieks as she falls clean off her chair, taking her keyboard down with her, sending it clattering to the floor along with her energy drink that sprays spectacularly across the floor.

I merely blink in complete confusion. She’s seen me walk through that portal a hundred times. Why the sudden… Why is she not wearing pants?

“FEEL MY JUSTICE!”

“YES, FILL ME WITH ALL YOUR JUSTICE!”

I turn to look at her monitor.

Oh….

“SO BIG AS YOUR JUSTICE!”

“NOOOOOO!” Futaba screams from the floor, her face immediately turning red. “DON’T LOOK! DON’T LOOK AT THAT!”

She scrambles upright, lunges desperately for the monitor’s power cable, and rips it out of the wall with both hands, cutting power to the screen.

“SOOOOO GOOO-”

And the video abruptly ends.

There is a very long, very uncomfortable silence, broken only by Futaba’s panting heavily.

“WHY WOULD YOU JUST WALK IN LIKE THAT?!” she shrieks, spinning around to face me with her glasses completely askew and her hair a total disaster. “AT LEAST KNOCK! PEOPLE KNOCK! ISN’T THAT WHAT NORMAL PEOPLE DO?! KNOCK?!”

Wow, she is really upset.

I pull out my phone and type my answer. ‘I’ve always dropped by unannounced. You’ve never had a problem with it before.’

Until now. I try to gesture with my hands.

“THAT WAS BEFORE!” she screams back, gesturing wildly at the now-dead monitor. “THIS WAS… I WAS STUFF THAT WAS PRIVATE TIME!!”

‘’’’’’’’’’’’Research.’’’’’’’’’’’’

“YES! RESEARCH! INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT PERSONAL RESEAR- DON’T YOU DARE USE AIR QUOTES AT ME!”

‘Why would you masturbate out here? You have a bedroom.’

The bed or the bathroom are the best place to rub one out after all. Although… This is where she has her PC.

“I LIVE HERE! THE WHOLE APARTMENT IS MY SPACE! I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT WHEREVER I WANT IN MY OWN HOME!” She pauses, stomps on the floor before taking a deep breath and adjusting her hair, “...I wasn’t expecting company.”

‘That’s fair. Sorry.’

“THAT’S IT?!” She stares at me in absolute disbelief. “THAT’S ALL YOU’VE GOT?! JUST ‘SORRY’?! OH I’M SOOOO SORRY FOR CATCHING YOU FINGERING!”

That would have sound/read really awkward.

Then something in her breaks, and she drops onto the floor, pulls her knees up to her chest, buries her face in them, and starts making weird noises and muffled screaming.

“I’m actually going to die,” she wails into her knees. “This is it. This is how Futaba Sakura ends. Not in battle. Not heroically. Like THIS. Cough with her pants down…. WAAAAAAAAAA I ACTUALLY WANT TO DIE!”

Well... I can sympathize with this to a degree. Nobody wants to ever get caught masturbating, at least with porn, it’s understandable and can be passed down as a joke.

She suddenly scrambles up off the floor and sprints to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her with enough force to rattle the wall.

I stand in the middle of her apartment, staring at the closed bedroom door.

Well. That just happened.

This is going to make things awkward for a while.

I move to one of the bean cushions and sit down to wait. Although, I can't help but think a little and be surprised that they found a guy with a similar build as me.

Ten minutes later, the door finally opens. Futaba emerges properly dressed in her hoodie and shorts, but her face is still tomato red and her lips are pressed together in a very thin, very tense line. She walks up to her fallen chair, rights it with quiet dignity, and sits down. Then she looks up at me with a grimace.

“This…never happened,” she says flatly. “You walked in here, we said hi, we’re playing video games. That’s the whole story. That is the only version of events. Are we clear?”

‘Why were you even watching porn?’

She opens her mouth. Closes it and opens it again.

“I’m a healthy, normal woman with healthy, normal curiosity!” She finally explodes, dragging both hands down her face. “I’ve been working nonstop for years! Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had actual free time?! And then suddenly I have a whole days to myself and my brain just…it just went places, okay?! It’s only natural to get a little horny! Don’t look at me like that!”

‘I’m not looking at you like anything.’

“You’re DEFINITELY looking at me like something!” She points accusingly. “That’s your face! That’s your judgment face!”

I’m not judging…

‘At least do it in your room next time.’

“Oh, FUCK YOU!” She crosses her arms and looks away, offended. “...It’s not even like I planned it, okay? I was just a little bored and tired from the other work you asked me to do, since I was all to myself and you know that I tend to get curious, so one search led to another and…” She gestures with her hands. “Why does this alternate internet have to have everything?”

There is a pause.

‘Why me, though?’

There’s a very long silence.

“I told you I was curious!” She pauses to groan. “You’re like… you know you’re hot. You know, hitting some of my likes on my list. And it’s not like anyone can blame me for being curious! You’re literally everywhere! Your face is everywhere! And you also must know that sex sells a lot no matter how grimdark the world is. Sooooo….” 

She grabs a pillow from somewhere and buries her face in there.

Honestly, I don’t even know how to feel about the fact that people have made porn movies about me or that people uploaded it on the internet. This is definitely not part of my official merch. Though cape sex parody is apparently a well-established industry on Earth-Bet.

Still. Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover this.

‘I’m choosing not to think about this too hard.’

Futaba slowly lowers the pillow and looks at me with hollow eyes. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “That’s probably the smart move.”

Another silence.

“Also…. Ummm hearing your double scream justice while fucking is not funny.” 

I merely give her a flat stare.

“Okay, shutting up. Very bad timing and… UGGGGHHH WAAAAAAAAAA!” She just screams back into the pillow.

I’ll just wait for her to fully calm down.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Some time later, and some headpats, I find myself sprawled across her couch while she taps away thoughtfully at her keyboard, which she already fixed, deep in thought. All the earlier embarrassment has apparently left her system entirely, like it never happened.

And I try to forget this moment out of consideration for her although that probably won’t happen because all awkwardness aside, it was kinda funny.

“Okay, so...” The otaku finally breaks the silence, spinning her chair to face me, “training to gain power isn’t impossible, but the problem is you need to train with things relative to your tier. You’re sitting at Tier 8, and on Earth-Bet there isn’t really anything that matches that power and I’m obviously not counting the Endbringers or Scion or the bullshit villains or the unknown characters that might be lurking around. And waiting around for one of them to show up so you can fight it and hope to get stronger from that is, and I cannot stress this enough, a really, really bad idea. We want to train, not raze an entire city to the ground.”

I finally sit back up to write a response. ‘Yeah, no shit.’

“Right, exactly.” She pulls up something on her main monitor. “From what I’m seeing in the database, everyone on this planet tops out at Tier 6 at most, with some exceptions. So yeah, we’re a little stumped there.” She taps her chin thoughtfully. “Although, maybe we could work with your martial talent at least. We could try talking to the Triumvirate through Legend, see if we can arrange a sparring session with Eidolon or Alexandria. Not sure if they’ll actually agree to it, but it’s worth a shot.”

‘Not a bad idea. The boxing match with Mirko helped more than expected.’

Rumi is a very skilled martial artist after all, and the Triumvirate members are Tier 7 last time I checked. Sparring with someone that strong could actually teach me something.

She suddenly snaps her fingers. “Wait, hold on. You’re a dragon, aren’t you? Why haven’t you been training in that form?”

‘No real place to train it. Can’t even go full form because it could cause panic, and I want to keep that ability secret as long as possible. It’s my trump card.’

Not even the endbringers know this so they probably expect to fight a very strong cape. And not even counting Scion who I want to avoid at the moment.

“Okay, fair point.” She frowns, drumming her fingers against the desk. “Mmm, so we’re a little stuck. Honestly, the only real option to get you stronger right now is template stacking.”

‘We’ve talked about this before.’

“Yeah, we did, but there were so many options and we couldn’t really tell which ones would synergize best and also the focus back then was to decide credits or dragoon girl.” She pauses, then her eyes go wide. “Wait a minute… We can train that new power, right? Almost forgot about that!” She claps her hands together.

I blink.

“Template stacking is capped at Tier 4, BUT you can train new powers and progress them naturally! It’s just that there are so many options, and ideally you want something that synergize with what you already have.” She scratches her head, then grins wickedly. “Justice-power themed! That’s gotta be the move, obviously!”

I roll my eyes and hand her my phone with the company app already pulled up.

“Thanks! Come on, let’s go through the options again.”

And so, like that, we spend hours scrolling and checking through the catalog. I’m honestly a little surprised by how well Futaba navigates the interface, pulling up detailed breakdowns on each power option like she’s done this a hundred times before; there are functions in this app I didn’t even know existed. As for the power sets, some of them sound amazing, though some come with weird restrictions that make them more trouble than they’re worth.

“We could take a few days to think this over,” Futaba suggests at one point, glancing at me.

I shake my head firmly. I want to start training as soon as possible since there are very difficult fights ahead.

She presses her lips together. “Okay, real question: can you actually tank an Endbringer punch? Like, full force, no holding back?”

I nod firmly and extend my hand, while she hands me the phone back so I can type out a more detailed answer.

‘The original Iron Arm was created to fight a demon king, which you should be familiar with, but this one is a world-ending, interdimensional threat. Some of them were even concept-level entities, so an Endbringer hit, while painful, isn’t going to one-shot me.’

She raises an eyebrow. “Daniel, you’ve never actually told me where your power comes from. Like the actual origin story. I just kind of assumed it was some upgraded version of One For All or something.”

I really didn’t give her an explanation about my powers? Or we just forgot?

‘It’s “The Hero Has Returned,” or “Warrior Has Returned,” whichever translation works. Long story, but it’s not a manga but a manhwa, which is probably why you don’t know it.’

Manga and manwha, the eternal rivalry of eastern comics.

“Ooh, let me see.” She practically lunges for the phone, scrolling through whatever lore entries the app can give. Her expression shifts from curious to increasingly concerned. “Oh wow, yeah, I can see some of these other-world threats could basically BE Endbringers on their own. Damn.”

I merely give her a sympathetic smile.

“I think we got lucky none of that stuff ever got dropped here.” She mutters, still scrolling through more entries. “Earth Bet would be doomed. Especially those ‘hero of faith’ types; that’s basically Simurgh-tier or worse, mastering hundreds of thousands of people with a single whisper and then capable of turning them into ANYTHING? That’s just a nightmare..”

I just nod in solemn agreement. She’s not wrong, the only reason those faith bastards lost was because they were up against even more bullshit powers.

After that short break we keep scrolling and discussing options for a while longer, weighing the pros and cons of each choice.

Eventually Futaba sits back, cracking her knuckles. “Okay, discarding the weird conditional ones and the magic-locked stuff, here’s what I think are your best picks.”

She pulls up a list and points to the first item. “Hero’s Proof, from the Tiger and Bunny lineage. Straightforward power multiplier that works with the spirit of justice, but it’s limited to once a day. No real downside besides the cooldown.”

She slides down. “Burning Justice, from the Kamen Rider and Super Sentai lineage. This one’s actually my personal favorite, not gonna lie.” She grins. “The more people chant for you and place their faith in you, the more power you get. It’d be absolutely broken if it weren’t capped at Tier 4, but even capped, it’s a really solid addition. Plus, c’mon, it fits your whole justice thing perfectly. Like it was practically designed for you!”

Sounds real good, especially thanks to Contessa, who has made me known across the country and overseas.

And then she points at the last one. “Will of Justice; you’ve actually already seen this one, it’s Mr. Justice’s signature power. Makes you even more resilient, plus it deflects injustice and harm back at the aggressor. Basically, a built-in counter mechanic. Very fitting given how much harm you absorb on the regular.”

Not gonna lie, I’m interested in all three. Though I’ll admit I didn’t know about the first two before this conversation.

However, I take a moment to think it over, weighing the options carefully against what I currently have. I’ve got 62 credits banked up which gives me a good chance so I hold up two fingers toward Oracle.

“Number 2? Yeah, that’s a good pick, Burning Justice is honestly a gre-“

I shake my head and hold up two fingers again, more emphatically this time.

“Oh! You meant two templates. Right, okay, with two it’ll run you 60 credits total, since the cost doubles per stack.” She raises an eyebrow. “So which two would you want?”

I point first at Will of Justice, then at Burning Justice.

“Nice, solid combo.” She nods approvingly, already pulling up the order form on the screen. “Okay, let me write these up as specifically as possible so the company doesn’t pull some technical bullshit on you with vague wording, I remember how we got screwed once because of that bullshit... aaaand done!”

She turns the phone back around to show me the finished request before handing it over.

Huh, that’s a lot of words.

I take a deep breath, scan the details one last time which are very eloquently put and no ambiguous wording, and hit confirm.

Nothing happens immediately. I exhale, then take another breath, and a fresh wave of air fills my lungs, except it feels different somehow, in a way I can’t quite describe with words. I feel... a lot better than before, like really amazing.

Euphoric?

“Sooooooo,” Futaba starts, leaning forward, practically bouncing in her seat, “what do you feel?”

I can feel inside me a declaration and words coursing through my veins like molten lava of righteous cause, demanding to be unleashed into the world.

“BEHOLD!” I boom, rising to my feet as the words tear themselves from my throat and flex my arms. “THE FLAME OF RIGHTEOUSNESS BURNS ANEW WITHIN THIS HUMBLE VESSEL! NO LONGER SHALL INJUSTICE FIND PURCHASE UPON MY UNYIELDING WILL! FOR I AM THE SHIELD THAT TURNS ASIDE THE BLADE OF WICKEDNESS, AND THE TORCH THAT BLAZES BRIGHTER WITH EVERY VOICE THAT CRIES OUT FOR JUSTICE!”

I raise both fists toward the ceiling, my voice somehow gaining even more strength.

“LET EVILDOERS TREMBLE! FOR THEIR WICKEDNESS SHALL REBOUND UPON THEM TENFOLD, AND THE FAITH OF THE INNOCENT SHALL FUEL THIS UNDYING FLAME OF JUSTICE!”

Futaba just bursts out laughing and strikes a dramatic pose of her own, fist raised high in the air. “FOR JUSTICE!”

“JUSTICE!”

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Bonus Scene: Night of the Robot

Saint’s eyes were fixed on the cascading lines of code, his coffee long forgotten beside him. For the past few days, Dragon’s algorithms had been producing something he’d never seen before patterns that, if he didn’t know better, he would have called emotional. And of course, he was more than ready to trigger the kill-switch for emotions because an AI having emotions would spell doom to humankind.

He leaned closer to the screen, power armor creaking faintly as he shifted his weight. The data was subtle, woven into the deeper layers of her processing threads rather than displayed outright, but Saint had spent years learning to read between Dragon’s lines. And what he was reading now looked uncomfortably like distress.

His hands moved across the keyboard, pulling threads of correlating data together. He cross-referenced the anomalous output against Dragon’s past interactions, and a pattern began to surface: every spike correlated with Armsmaster. More specifically, with Armsmaster’s new sidekick.

The man was spending more time with the sidekick than with Dragon.

Saint frowned, running the analysis again. Then a third time and fourth to be sure that it wasn’t a fluke. The conclusion remained the same no matter how he sliced the data.

Dragon was jealous.

The realization sat wrong in his stomach, a paranoid itch crawling up his spine. An AI experiencing jealousy wasn’t supposed to be possible - not unless something deeper had shifted in her core programming in a bad way.

Jealousy implied attachment. 

Attachment implied want. And want, in an entity with Dragon’s capabilities, was a door Saint didn’t like imagining open.

The pandora box was getting close to being opened.

He reached for his mug, taking a slow sip as he began drafting a list of questions to dig further. He needed to understand the scope of this so-called sidekick - what they were, what role they played, why their mere presence in Armsmaster’s orbit had rattled something loose in Dragon’s framework.

But that’s when a new line of text scrolled onto his center monitor, pulled from an encrypted exchange he’d been quietly siphoning for weeks.

‘Ace is an AI like me?’

Saint choked, coffee spraying across his desk as he lurched forward in his chair.

“WHAT?!”

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AN: We are justice maxxing screw minimaxxing!