Vol 2 Chapter 3.2

Fushimi licked his lips and, without looking away from the screen, stretched his hand out to the coffee can. Which is when he accidentally knocked the can over with his fingertips, and black liquid spilled to the edges of the display and keyboard.

“Ah, shi-”

Just as he was distracted, in that moment―

The sign of something appeared right in front of his eyes.

It felt as if static electricity crawled down his nape and startled, he turned his eyes back to the screen.

The two tyrannosaurus that had been attacking the building reacted in a comical way, just how small animals startle when they are sprinkled with water. As if a splash of water that came from the edge of the display intruded into the screen’s virtual space― The two tyrannosaurus tucked their tails between their legs and fled out of the screen.

What is this… I didn’t program an action like that.

When the attackers had disappeared the building’s automatic door opened and one character trotted out of it. It wore plain clothes, had no distinctive facial features and was a three-head long 3D character― it was the default avatar in «jungle».

He came out of the hacking program’s window and walked to the display’s center.

For Fushimi it felt like their eyes met. His with the one’s who was on the other side of the screen controlling the avatar.

Fushimi backed away from the screen with a jolt. His hands he had placed behind him slipped off the loft’s edge and he almost fell down.

Clap, clap, clap, did the avatar applaud with its little hands.

Over its head appeared a speech bubble and the lines were written letter by letter.

[Well fought, middle schooler. I intended to watch you in silence, but because it was interesting I ended up coming to greet you. Hello.]

“What… are you…?” Muttered Fushimi in a hoarse voice.

Even though they had somehow managed to hack Fushimi, that person should not be able to hear him because he had taken off his headset. But through some way there was an answer typed into the speech bubble.

[I am a superior person of «jungle».]

It was a quick, vague self introduction.

[I value your eagerness. But, as you can see I’m in the middle of playing with the Red King. He hasn’t really taken action yet, but it should be about time, don’t you think?]

With behavior as if it was really be alive in the virtual space the avatar turned its eyes to one corner of the display. There was the camera video overlooking the three-forked road in front of bar HOMRA still streaming. The masked group repeated to form lines, stomp their feet and let the party poppers burst, but slowly something changed.

The distance between the line that was letting their party poppers burst and bar HOMRA’s shopfront had narrowed. The “red monster”’s group had backed up so much they were practically sticking on the shop’s wall. The crowd lined up in a row, pulled the party poppers’ string and white smoke formed a cloud and rose.

Whoosh, flew in the middle of that smoke something that seemed like a burning arrow and pierced right threw the shop’s front window. The glass shattered and fine dust whirled in the air.

That had been a bottle rocket, as one could already imagine. It looked like a normal bottle rocket where on the end of a thin stick a rocket formed like a pencil was attached, but because of the force with which it had crushed the glass it might have been a remodeled one.

The expression of the “red monster”’s gang who had until know stared in bafflement, changed. There was no way they’d stay silent if things had been brought up to the level of damage. There were some who got angry and wanted to strike against the crowd, but the man with the Kansai dialect yelled something and gave orders, and the other comrades held back the ones who had gotten enraged.

[Haha, Homra’s Number 2 is being cautious. So they won’t carelessly hurt any common minors, huh? As expected of him.]

The avatar had completely relaxed, sat down at the bottom of the screen and watched the video together with Fushimi. The crowd got even closer and burst their party poppers. In the white smoke bottle rockets came flying one after another. They went past the stooping “red monster”’s group and fire pierced through the bar’s walls and windows.

[Well then, setting aside me, is it good that you were an impassive spectator?]

Letting its tiny legs swing up and down, the avatar turned his head towards Fushimi.

[Is that friend of yours who puts pineapple in the porridge alright?]

At once the blood in Fushimi’s veins froze to ice.

They can read the conversations in the encrypted mail app. When did we have that conversation? More than two years ago. They had always been able to read them…? Since the beginning, everything…?

“Misaki!”

Fushimi grabbed the headset, and because he was to impatient to put it on, he clung onto the mic and called out. “Misaki! Misaki!”

He held the earphone part to his ear and called out again, but there was no sound audible through the earphone. At some point the connection had been cut.

From the silent earphone was suddenly a different voice audible.

“The codes you write are beautiful. Too beautiful. I recommend you write the secret codes messier.”

It was a neutral voice to which a mechanical effect had been added. The avatar in the display suddenly raised its eyes and matching the voice, it moved its mouth.

“You’re pretty talented. But you’re inexperienced. If you want to play with me, do it after you’ve gotten stronger and smarter. If you don’t, things will end up like this again.”

The avatar that had had a simple expression opened its eyes wide.

Its gonna be destroyed―!

What and how Fushimi did not know, but he felt it in his bones.

He instantly grabbed the cables of the router connected to the internet and the computer and yanked them out all together. The display turned dark and the avatar too disappeared.

Fushimi grabbed only his PDA and jumped down the loft. He stumbled and fell on his knees but he immediately stood up again, slipped into his sneakers and rushed out the house.

They were in the same town. Bar HOMRA wasn’t that far away. While he ran he used the phone mode of his PDA and held it to his ear. He had nothing up his sleeve anymore. He could do nothing but call Yata normally. From the beginning he had not been able to hide anything. Today’s plan had been completely leaked out. What a stupid story.

From his PDA was the beep- beep- beep- that indicated the line was busy audible and it was as if the sound was deliberately vexing him. Fushimi clicked his tongue and hung up for the time being.  He soon clashed with the tail of the crowd that was overflowing the city. PDAs that were giving of a faint light were grasped in everybody’s hands and illuminated the white masks of the people lined up in a row.

“Out of the way!”

While he used his shoulders to push through the crowd Fushimi tried to call Yata once again, and at that exact moment he got a call.

“Misaki!?”

“Saruhiko, are you okay!?”

They both called out in the same moment and their voices collided in the PDA. After they both went quiet at the same time,

“It’s useless, everything…”

“The line was suddenly cut off!”

their voices clashed again, and they both fell silent again.

“…The plan’s broken off. It’s our… my, lose.”

Fushimi ground his teeth so hard he could actually hear it.

…so frustrating. It’s been the first time… and then losing…

“Saruhiko? Did something happen? I’m going back right now so I’ll be there soon.”

“I’m also going to where you are right now. What happened there?”

“Ah, ahh, I was mingling with the Himuka students but somehow things turned really bad. The shop’s windows and door were destroyed and the people tried to force their way into the bar, and the “red monster”’s underlings pushed them back…”

«jungle» had probably incited the “red monster” and his gang and induced them to raise their hand against common people. The avatar that had invaded Fushimi’s computer had called the “red monster” the “Red King”.

“King”…?

Bam!

Close to Fushimi there was a burst, and a sharp heat pierced the right side of his face. “Hot―” Not able to endure it he let out a small scream and fell to the ground.

“Ugh…”

Pressing down on his face with one hand he somehow raised his body. Staring through the gaps between his fingers there was one person standing right in front of him with a party popper in her hand from which white smoke rose. With her mask pushed halfway up Oogai Aya looked down on him with fixated eyes. “You damn…” forced Fushimi out in a low voice through gritted teeth.

Aya’s expression became surprised and she turned around and fled into the crowd.

He didn’t have the time to go after her and there were a lot of people blocking the way right in front of him. They lined their party poppers up in a row and pointed them like gun ports at Fushimi’s head. Are these people crazy!? Don’t they understand that this is going far beyond ‘just a game’!?

“Oraaahhhh, get out of the wayyyyy!!”

Together with a roar the sound of something hard hitting the ground was audible. With the glittering outdoor lights shining behind him Yata, riding on his skateboard, crashed into and through the people encircling Fushimi.

“Saruhiko, are you alright!?”

While he grooved a circle with the wheels into the asphalt, Yata landed in the middle of the encirclement. Because of the stir he had caused the crowd had backed away a bit.

Fushimi took Yata’s hand and stood up, but there was a piercing pain in the right side of his face and he could still not open his right eye.

“What the hell is happening? Why are they attacking you…?”

Yata teared the mask which he had probably snatched away from somebody off his head and glared at the crowd to keep them in check. A hand grabbed his nape from behind him and almost pulled down and Yata tumbled off his skateboard. Without a moment’s delay Fushimi struck at the masked person.

“Anyway, let’s get outta here!”

“Ah, my skateboard!”

“Leave it behind!”

Shoving aside the crowd, the two started to run. The masked group reached out their arms to them from every direction. When one was about to be caught the other struck at the captor and so they cut their way through the crowd. With obvious malicious intentions party poppers were burst in their proximity. While they coughed violently because smoke shrouded them on one side, all they could do was to escape right now even though they didn’t know why they were being attacked.

Not able to attain balance with only one eye, Fushimi staggered and while they ran he and Yata got separated.

“Saruhiko!”

Yata tried to run back to him but a burning arrow came flying right in front of him. Fushimi looked behind him and clicked his tongue. Just how they had attacked bar Homra the masked group had changed their weapons from party poppers to rocket bottles and chased after them.

“Go ahead!”

Fushimi turned to Yata and yelled that while he waved his hand as if to chase him away.

It was in that moment that he saw a red light rise slowly over Yata’s shoulder. What looked like a life-sized pillar of fire was one man whose entire body shone and was clad in a dark red aura. He had his hands nonchalantly shoved into the pockets of his jeans, and even though there was no way he could not see this crazy uproar, he came walking towards them from the opposite side of the street as if he was simply taking a stroll. That person whose big steps were as slow as the aura swaying around his body was unmistakably fire itself.

Yata also belatedly noticed the person’s silhouette behind his back and raise his voice. “The 'red monster’!!”

“Misaki, run to him!” yelled Fushimi, pointing to the front.

If he reaches him then it’ll be safe,  believed Fushimi not based on logic, but on intuition.

Despite worrying about him, Yata started to run. While Fushimi pressed down one hand on his hurting face he also tried to start running but bottle rockets continued to flash by right next to his head and cut off his way.

Orange tails pulled into the night sky and the burning arrows found together so that the whole visual field of his left eye was died by them, and they all came chasing him.

“'Red monster’!!”

He could hear Yata’s voice that was close to a cry.

“Save him! Please! Save Saruhiko―”

Hot air swelled behind Fushimi who was standing paralyzed. The hot air the flames had brought with them became a big wave and, while swallowing the night sky, a rain of flames headed straight towards him. The individual bottle rockets swallowed by the mass, burning without leaving any remains behind, heaving – like that they came chasing Fushimi from above. With a sight as if a huge flame was coming down the sky Fushimi had no place to escape to and he could do nothing but stand there.

Gently, pale hands appeared on the edges of his visual field and enclosed his head. The hot air that had heated his face turned into the warmth of a sunny spot in winter. The big wave of flames hit the ground, recoiled, and billowed over the ground as if it was writhing in pain. The asphalt got burned red and seethed. But the warm sunny spot became Fushimi’s shelter and the flames did not burn his body.

When the wave of flames ebbed the boiling asphalt cooled down quickly and solidified into a bumpy and black shape. Only the asphalt within a one meter distance from himself had stayed even and unharmed.

…I… have been…… saved……?

Just when Fushimi thought that, he lost his strength and sunk to the ground.

The mob that carried party popper and rocket bottles with it and that had chased them as if they were possessed had stopped moving and surrounded them from a distance. Many white masks were floating in the darkness. There was a faint bustling audible but there was nobody who got any closer to them.

“Oh boy, that sure was in the nick of time,” spoke somebody above Fushimi’s head.

He automatically understood that it was the voice of the person who had created the sunny spot shelter; it was a carefree, cheerful voice. When Fushimi turned his head, still in a stupefied state, there stood a young, smiling man.

“Are you okay? Your face? Did you get burned? Ah, your eyelashes are a bit burned.”

Peering at Fushimi’s face he said things sounding as if he was worried, but the feeling that it was urgent and that he was actually worried didn’t convey at all.

The man looked back to the “red monster”. “King. That was way too flashy. Kusanagi-san said to try our best to not let the decent kids get hurt.”

“Didn’t let them get hurt. I went easy on 'em,” replied the “red monster” with a voice sounding like a beast’s growl and looked down on Yata who was sitting on the ground in front of his feet as if he was a bother.

“So, who’re these kids?”

“I wonder? You don’t know either, king? Then why did we save them?”

It seemed like they had no impression at all of the middle school students they had met by chance just a month ago.

King…… the “Red King”……

“Sa-…Saruhiko…”

Staggering, Yata stood up, went away from the “red monster” and ran to Fushimi. Just before he reached him he fell hard on the ground, tumbled, and with that force he charged at Fushimi.

“Ugh, uehh, Saruhikoo, I- I’m so glad you’re…this time I really thought it looks bad and you’d d-d-die…I’m so glad you’re fiiiiiiine, Saruhikooooo…”

With tears streaming down his face Yata hugged Fushimi tightly.

†

Fushimi and Yata had been protected by the “Red King” and his subordinate named Totsuka and when they reached bar HOMRA, the rioters – it was okay to declare them rioters now, right – the rioters that had flocked in front of the bar scattered in all directions and ran away. It seemed like the “Red King” and Totsuka had been away from the bar when the rioters had started to surround it and even though they came back after having been contacted, some time had passed. If «jungle» had purposely been after a time when the “Red King” was absent wasn’t clear. Anyway, with the “Red King”’s faction and the “Red King” himself incited to take action it could be said that the conditions for a definite win had been fulfilled.

Kusanagi, the tall man with the Kansai dialect, was the only one who remembered Fushimi’s and Yata’s faces and astounded, he said: “What, Mikoto and Totsuka don’t know 'em but picked 'em up?”

The “Red King”’s faction knew that both the secretly taken photos that had been uploaded online and the attack from this time was «jungle»’s doing and even if they wanted to strike back, because their direct opponents were common people they couldn’t start a fight with them. This was exactly like what Fushimi had read.

But the one thing they still did not understand in the end was―

What exactly was «jungle»?

And this gang that made this bar their headquarters, just what where they―?

“You don’t really understand our and «jungle»’s true state, do ya? What I can tell you is that we and they are a group with a “King” as our leader – a clan,” said Kusanagi and looked towards the man who was smoking and leaning back on the couch in the middle of the bar.

The king’s throne was nothing more than a simple sofa. But it was understandable why that man, who was smoking his cigarette with a cool expression as if he was already not interested in the turmoil anymore, was called a king. He had a somewhat violent presence.

The “Red King” ― Suoh Mikoto.

An actual man with special powers.

A few more hours were needed until all the people who had flooded Shizume City’s downtown had withdrawn. While they waited Fushimi got the burn in his face treated and after they had confirmed that it was safe outdoors, Fushimi and Yata left the bar and went back to their own place.

Morning already dawned. The neighborhood was deserted with all the people gone but a strong stench of gunpowder remained in the air. The remains of loads of party poppers and bottle rockets and thrown away masks filled the streets and with each step they crushed them under their feet.

“He was amazing, the “Red King”, Suoh Mikoto! I could see it perfectly from close up! Saruhiko, you couldn’t see it? When he simply made a fist, like this, it turned into flames and when he wielded it just a tiny bit a huge flame came like whoosh!”

Yata had already regained his energy and while he talked in high spirits he swung his fists energetically to imitate what had happened and show it to Fushimi. Next to him Fushimi dropped his gaze to the ground and walked in silence. Crack, crack…… he stepped on the broken plastic masks.

“…Saruhiko? Does it hurt? After we get home and sleep a bit let’s go to a doctor, even if it’s already noon by then. Kusanagi-san also said we should see one.” In the blink of an eye Yata sounded close and affectionate, they way one sounds when they call for the reliable big brother figure of the neighborhood.

With his eyes still cast down Fushimi shook his head. Because he was wearing his glasses over the bandage that had been put on his temple he looked a bit stiff and gloomy.

“Saruhiko.”

Yata lowered his previously cheery voice. It was the tone he used when he sincerely pushed Fushimi to do something.

“We’re the ones who lost. Right?”

“I’m the one who thought up everything. So I’m the one who lost.”

“You’re wrong. Didn’t we say we’d do it together and didn’t we plan it together?

“……” Whichever. It’s not like either would console me.

When Fushimi stayed silent Yata frowned and turned his eyes to the front.

One week ago, when they had talked confidently about changing the view the big guys have on power, their own idiocy had been fully exposed. The ones that had messed with them had, without getting as much as a single scratch, manipulated them. They had only been put in danger.

We had honestly believed we wouldn’t lose. Were had that confidence come from?

We really look like idiots.

“I want power… Saruhiko,” muttered Yata next to him. “Right now the two of us are in the end just normal middle school students. At that time I could do nothing but beg the “Red King” to save you. …I want power. Special power.”

Yata clenched his fists on the sides of his body. After Fushimi glanced at him from the side he raised his eyes from the ground and stared fixedly ahead.

“……yeah.”

He nodded and pressed his lips hard together.