ALL NOVEL 『Chapter 18: Mayor』
8 PM
At the Kyoto town hall.
Several men and women, primarily in their 30s to 60s, sit in the benches. After a meeting that has gone on for an hour, a female master of ceremony goes up to the podium. She is wearing a professional outfit (fit for a woman). The current mayor of Kyoto sits down with crossed arms. Not too far from him, is a row of tank-top clad men.
"We would like to remind you all that the Kyoto Gion Festival will be occurring in a couple months. Please be sure to alert your friends and neighbors."
People clap.
"We would also like to announce that the Kyoto mayoral elections are closing in within a couple weeks. Make sure to vote!"
People clap.
"And we have one more speaker who would like to present themselves tonight. They are a self-proclaimed candidate running for mayor. Please give it up for Mr. Ushiyama Kitoooo!"
People clap.
Getting up from their chairs, the row of tank-top clad men all stand up and walk up to the podium. The audience whisper and murmur at the people in front of them.
On the stage, five men all stand up and pose with their muscles visibly flexed.
On the far left is a tall, Japanese man with an eerily big smile. He has a buzz cut, long eyebrows, as well as a goatee. Some people in the audience recognize him: that's Kasumi Murobuchi! A semi-popular professional bodybuilder in Japan. He consistently gets third place at many competitions.
Next to him is a large, hairy, burly man. Easily the biggest of the group standing at around 6'6". His wide torso, tree trunk arms, and stumps for legs eclipses the frail security guard in the room. He has natural, red spikey hair that is swept back. He also has a beard that shapes his face. He sports a genuine smile.
To the left of the podium, stands a blonde foreigner with short spikey hair; he looks European. He has sharp facial features, a pointed nose, and black wifebeater that sticks to his skin, rather than the typical black tanktop the others have. His muscles are toned, yet his pose and face seem the least enthusiastic compared to the other men.
To the far right of the stage is the most lanky figure of the group. Their silhouette stills seems young; most likely a kid in their late teens or early 20s. That being said, they still seem built and intimidating. At least, compared to the average Japanese citizen. Noticeably, "silhouette" is the most accurate word to describe him, for his face, body, and any exposed skin is a mass of shifting scribbles and black blotches. Everybody sees it. The constantly moving squiggles and lines that is the kid's skin. Yet, even those who whisper about it fear talking about it. "Must be a severe skin condition..." mutters one woman in the audience to another.
And finally, up in center stage is the leader of the group: Ushiyama Kito. Easily with the most balanced physique of them all, he sports a bandana on his head, as well as an infectious smile that brightens up the mood. Despite running for mayor, he's the last one to join or proclaim that they're running for the spot. A shade is cast over his eyes due to the bandana.
Kito looks around at the room and raises his arms. "Good evening, members of Kyoto. My name is Ushiyama Kito. I have been living in our beloved city for all my life. And yet, as much as I appreciate the city's work, in terms of the last few years, I have to admit that I am ultimately, disappointed."
The mayor instantly frowns.
"Do you, fellow citizen, remember the golden age?" Says Kito, pointing at a random audience member. "I do," continues Kito. "I remember five to ten years ago, it wasn't like this. It was all fine and dandy. The economy was good, and the harbor wasn't under peril. And now, its gotten worse I'm afraid..."
Some of the audience members nod.
"You see, as much as I want to give the current party a chance... I don't want to. They've had their shot and now, it's up to a real man to fix our problems once and for all. A leader that actually cares for their community, and isn't wasting their time with increasing taxes and bowing down to the American dogs."
"Yeah..." mutters a fifty year old audience member under his breath.
"This isn't the Kyoto I grew up in. No. God no. So its up to me- no, its up to us, to bring back Kyoto to its former glory. And with that, we can convince our sister provinces to follow along. I don't know about you, but I'M tired. And I think its about time the government actually did its job. WHO AGREES?"
Most people in the crowd smile.
A fishing reel is set out.
"That's what I thought. As a matter of fact, dear Mr. Mayor of Kyoto," says Kito pointing at the mayor. "If I were you, I would resign in a week's notice. Or else your heart will stop due to the burden you carry. Won't you agree?"
Kito tugs and reels the line back in. "(Come on....)" Thinks the candidate to himself.
Most people's faces freeze. The few who didn't pause, look closer at the mayor with baited breaths.
The mayor stares at Kito with a displeased face. The mayor rests his fist on his cheek.
"(COME ON....)"
"Well?" Asks Kito, still looking at the mayor. Most of the audience murmur. Kito's men still hold their poses, quietly sweating.
The security guard speaks in his walky talky. He slowly walks up the side of the stage, ready to get the men off.
The mayor rolls his eyes. With a scrunched up nose, he finally responds in a sarcastic tone. "Sure."
Kito reels it in. He greets the tuna in his grasp.
Kito smiles. "I'm glad. At least that way you'll do your province a service." Kito cackles before waving it off. "I'm kidding of course. Well anyway, with me as mayor, I promise we'll strongarm the province back to better times with our own hands. Mark my words." He then finally strikes a pose with a big sharp grin on his face. The audience give a round of confused applause. The men get off the stage and sit back down.
"Did we do it boss?" Asks the big burly goon.
"Oh yes we did, Bara. Hook, line, and sinker."
.
.
.
Thirty minutes after the meeting ends, the five men sit down at a restaurant. A waitress greets them.
"Here's the menu," she says. "Would any of you be interested in beer?"
Kito shakes his head. "No, none of us. Beer makes you fat. We will all take water, please. And whatever the rest of them want."
"Can I drink cola, Kito sensei?" Asks the mass of scribbles and blotches.
"Of course, Daiki. Today is a special victory after all." The leader then turns to the waitress. "I'm pretty sure that's all, thank you."
The waitress walks away to get the drinks. As the other men talk, the blonde member stares at the waitresses' figure.
"So what did you do, boss?" Asks Bara, the big burly member.
"Oh nothing special. I simply made a contract with the mayor. It was a lot easier than expected but hey, as long as it's done, I don't care."
"What happens if he didn't agree?" Asks the foreign member.
"I'm glad you asked, Robert. It's a close call really. All of it. We could have been kicked out a lot sooner but, we didn't. And that's good thing or else, we'd have to go with plan B, C, or D, and actually get our hands dirty. But glad we didn't have to resort to that, pahahaha!"
The customers close to their table look visibly confused and/or, annoyed.
"Wow...You're so amazing, boss!" Compliments Bara.
"Heh, yeah. I know."
"So what are your first plans of business as mayor?" Asks Bara.
"For the first order of business, all protein powders and gym equipment shall be exempt from taxes.
For the second order of business, all laws made within the past five to ten years shall be rendered null."
Bara stares in astonishment. Daiki, the kid, and Kasumi, the professional bodybuilder, both clap.
"Say," starts Kasumi. "What's our campaign fund at the moment?"
Kito puts his hand on his chin. He thinks for a second. "So if we take what I make in a week, subtract rent and food... carry the two...
About 2,000 yen."
The members all stare him.
"That's... not a lot," says Kasumi.
"Not to worry fellas. Kasumi, with your permission, am I allowed to borrow some of your earnings for the campaign? I'll only take a bit."
"Yes, that's fine. But what are you going to do with the rest?"
Kito chuckles. "I understand that the internet is a tool. In the right hands, anyone can be known for anything. On one hand, it's lets machines dictate chance. On the other, I'll be using the technique that's been in human history for thousands of year: word of mouth. Both on and off camera, I'll be gaining traction. No matter how ridiculous it may seem, any publicity is good publicity. I will be a local legend. And most importantly, it will all be cheaper than spending thousands of dollars on ad campaigns."
He raises his glass of water. The rest of the members do so as well.
"Let's eat."
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At the Academy, Naoki talks to Yamada. They're in Naoki's room.
The cockroach looks at the cramped living quarters. One corner has a large computer. GUNDAM figurines litter the shelves. There's posters of Shin Megami Tensei and Tekken all over the wall and ceiling. Dirty laundry still hasn't been picked up from the floor.
"Excuse the mess. I wasn't expecting visitors," explains Naoki.
"You're the one who took me here in the first place but... alright..." Comments Yamada.
Naoki rolls his eyes. "Anyway, patrol duty for sorcerers happens all throughout the day. Some of them are out and about in the day time, disguised, while most go out in the night time. Seeing as you are the way you are, we're gonna go patrolling in the night time. So that you don't accidentally give someone a heart attack."
Yamada rolls his large pupils. "Yes, I understand."
"Glad you do. Quick little note, when I was signing up for shifts, Naota told me someone's going to join us later in the night. She's coming in a little late due to airport shenanigans. But aside from that, its just me showing you the ropes for tonight."
Yamada raises his hand.
"You don't have to raise your hand I'm literally right in front of you," says Naoki.
"Sorry, force of habit," explains Yamada. "I don't have any powers yet aside from my physiology. Won't that be an issue?"
Naoki laughs. "Yes!"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"...So wouldn't it be dangerous to go patrolling without powers?"
"Good eye, Yamada. Here's the thing though: you and I both have leashes on our necks. Mishima can turn them into nooses practically any moment he wants if he tries hard enough. So my logic is: A. the sooner we go out there and do things, the sooner they'll let us go. And B. I patrol alone anyway. So me having you as the babysitt- I mean, you having me as your babysitter should be all good. You've got the Naoki seal of approval." Naoki then shoots a cheeky grin and a thumbs up at Yamada. His teeth sparkle.
"Now I trust you even less."
.
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1 AM
Up in the roofs of a commercial area, Yamada sits atop of AC units. Climbing up the ladder, Naoki carefully uses telekinesis to carry an anpan and coffee. "See anything? Asks the teenager.
Yamada sighs. "Not in the slightest. It's just people walking the streets."
Naoki hands the coffee to Yamada. "Thank you," says the cockroach.
Silence. They stare at the town beneath them. Little lives living little lives. Yamada stares. His eyes twitch. Naoki looks at the cockroach.
"You know Yamada, as much as I want you to see my way, I can't force you. But I'll still try." Naoki smiles.
Yamada's mandibles tighten up a bit. "I don't disagree with you, Naoki. It's just that I find it very hard to care about strangers. I'll still save them its just... I mean I don't get it. What if I asked you why do you care about these people? How, rather. I understand you're trying to do the right thing, but what about the individual person?"
Naoki quietly chuckles. "Man, you're sounding a lot like me from back then. But just think about it this way: let's say there's a stranger. Think about them as if they were your family or friend. If they're getting mugged, wouldn't you help? Especially with your new powers and all? What if you were getting mugged. Wouldn't you appreciate a helping hand? It's called basic empathy."
Yamada quietly grumbles. "Yeah, I would've appreciated a helping hand when this happened to me..."
Naoki shoots a side eye to Yamada. "You just proved my point. There's no guarantee there will be help. But with more people like you and me around, the helpless can be helped. And the chances of things like these happening are lowered."
Yamada quietly grumbles. "I guess..."
They both quiet down for a long stretch of minutes.
Naoki glances over to the east side of the town. "Yamada."
"What is it now?"
"We have to go. I sense something half a mile away from here."
Yamada gets up and leaves his coffee cup. "Alright. You just point towards the direction." The cockroach then flutters his wings to a rapid degree. He slowly hovers above the ground. Naoki then grabs Yamada's legs and holds on tight with his iron bending pinch strength.
"OW- not too hard," hisses Yamada.
"My bad. I just don't wanna die. It's over around that area by the way," says Naoki, letting one hand go and pointing towards a direction.
To avoid being seen, Yamada quickly flies up fifty meters above the building, and flutters towards the area.
.
.
.
Up above near the harbor, Naoki spots a person willingly walking towards the end of the dock. Naoki focuses his eyes more. "(No they're... stumbling?)" He thinks to himself.
As the man walks closer to the edge, Naoki lets go of Yamada's feet. "Wait, Naoki!"
Naoki falls towards the water. While in mid-air, he sees the man holding a bottle. The man then trips and falls into the water as well. "(No- damn it.)"
Diving, Naoki looks underwater. He sees the inebriated fellow rapidly sinking towards the ground. Naoki swims at a rapid pace towards the man, eventually hoisting him back up atop the surface of the water. Naoki spits out some water and forces the man to cough up some water as well. "Are you okay, sir?"
"Hhhnnhnmmmmggbbbmmmm..." mumbles the man.
Swimming towards the shore, Naoki pumps the remaining water out of the man. "(The hell is a drunk man doing out here?)" Naoki thinks to himself.
A fluttering noise comes down behind Naoki. Yamada gently lands. "What happened?" Asks the cockroach.
"I don't know but, this man was about to walk into the water. He was holding a bottle but... even if he was drunk, there's very little reason for him to do this. Suicide is one thing but..."
"Is this what you sensed here?" Asks Yamada.
"No... hang on, let me read this guy's thoughts."
Pressing his thumb onto the semi-unconscious man's forehead, Naoki reads the man's memories from the past ten minutes. "Eight shots of whiskey. Goaded by another. Grey hand. Third eye..."
Naoki takes his hand off of the man. "Yeah, fuck that liver I guess; it's your life. More importantly-" Naoki stands up. "I have a strong suspicion that this was done by a-"
A finger taps behind Naoki's shoulder.
The teenager turns around, only to be greeted by a strong, snappy roundhouse to the face.
Naoki stumbles to the ground, holding his nose. Yamada looks up. It takes him a second but the air is moving. A silhouette of a figure calls out to him.
"...H..ey...ou...as...hole..."
Yamada squints his eyes. The makings of the air become clearer, as the silhouette becomes more pronounced.
"HE...YO....A....HOLE"
Slowly yet surely, the side effect of Yamada's curse takes effect, as he recognizes his first spirit in real time.
A Japanese Yanki gangster with grey skin, a black and orange pompadour, a biker jacket stained in what's presumably his own blood, and long, baggy pants. He stands at around 5'10". His pompadour has a big hole in the center of it. The figure is cracking its knuckles.
"HEY. YOU. ASSHOLE. CAN YOU UNDERSTAND ME NOW?"
Yamada stares.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"
The cockroach then proceeds to get on all six and skitter away at mach speed.
Naoki, still holding his nose has his mouth agape.
The spirit looks down at Naoki. "Your friend's a bit of a pus-"
"I KNOW." Barks Naoki. "It's his first time so I don't blame him. Would appreciate if he didn't leave me behind though."
The spirit begins to whip out a spiritual cigarette and sparks a phantasmic, fat doobie. "So what's up with you? Asshole."
Naoki gets up. "Ok, rude. What's up with you?"
"None of your damn business. Just leave the man here and I'll let you live."
Naoki laughs. "PAHA. You're funny if you think you're going to do anything here."
The spirit scrunges up its nose. "If you don't take you and your ugly ass laugh back the way you came from, I'll just do it for you. Asshole."
"Tch." Naoki grins and cracks his knuckles. "I'd like to see you try."
The spirit looks down at Naoki and stands there. He huffs through his nose. "Let's play a game." Says the spirit. He then puts his hand into his pompadour's socket and pulls out a beer bottle. "Care for a drink, asshole?"
Naoki rolls his eyes. "First of all, I can't. Second of all, beer makes you fat. Everyone knows this."
As Naoki talks, the spirit spirals the bottle in his mouth and chugs it in one fell swoop. "Aaaagh~ Nothing beats Sapporo."
Naoki's eyes furrow. "If I had to guess, you died from a failed liver didn't y-"
Thick knuckles crash down on Naoki's temple, launching and spinning him mid-air. Once Naoki lands, he holds the side of his head and screams: "You jackass I was talking! Who punches someone midsent-"
The pompadour punk sprints towards Naoki and aims to kick Naoki's head. Naoki however, catches the leg and rolls around on the ground, instantly applying a heel hook. He pulls with as much force as possible, intending to snap the foot's tendon.
Unfortunately, getting accustomed to fighting sorcerers has hard-wired Naoki to this habit. For people in the physical world, this is perfect. For spirits however-
The punk gives a disgruntled look, and chops his own foot off, before crawling away rapidly. Naoki looks at the dismembered spiritual foot in his hand, before it melts into a bluish-gray goo. The punk on the other hand, stands up and kicks his leg outward, with a new foot popping out.
Naoki gets up and thinks to himself. "(That's not annoying as shit, no; never!)" He rolls his eyes and circles around the gangster. "(Since spirits can do that, there's two conclusions. Either A. He didn't want to sacrifice his ki and move with a broken foot, so he traded some of his soul to make a new foot. Or. B. He has high magic proficiency and traded it at a low cost.)"
Naoki massages the side of his head. His ears are ringing. "(But those strikes packed a punch, so its probably the former.)"
As Naoki circles around and thinks to himself, the spirit does himself a favor and whips out another bottle. This time a large, thick, rectangular bottle. He quickly uncaps the hard liqueur and starts downing it.
Naoki stops and looks at him. "Stop drinking god damn it. No seriously, stop it. Don't you think that's enough?"
"(Damn it, no way I'm actually getting concerned for this guy.)"
The spirit chugs the spirit in five gulps. The pompadour prick licks his lips. "Nope~"
Charging in, the spirit still keeps his composure, throwing haymaker after haymaker against Naoki. Naoki dodges and parries all of the blows, countering with swift, ki-infused hooks and uppercuts. Yet, no matter how many sledges to the liver, or how many wallops to the chin, the spirit doesn't let up.
Naoki gives a concerned look. The punk notices this and smirks.
"[Neuropathy Entrope]. The more I drink, the less I feel. The less I feel drunk. I mean numb. The less- wait, the more I feel numb. Yeah. First try."
"Oh my god...." comments Naoki to himself. "He's already zonked..."
The spirit grimaces and continues rushing in, grabbing a hold of Naoki's hat and stuffing it down the teenager's face. Holding on to the hat, he control's Naoki's head and starts kneeing the boy in the chest and stomach.
Naoki audibly grunts with each knee, barely handling the knee as they impact his chest. "(DAMN. Even though he's inebriated he still hits like a motherfucker.)"
"Get OFF me," yells Naoki, catching the knee and tripping the spirit. He then circles around the stumbling ghost and soccer kicks the spirit in the head.
"THAT'S WHAT IT FEELS LIKE YOU ASSHOLE."
Grunting, the spirit begins to bleed. Fervently crawling towards Naoki, the spirit wildly flails his arms in a similar fashion from when he was throwing his haymakers. Naoki backpedals and swerves around the strikes. And yet, Naoki realizes what the spirit is doing.
"(No way...he's out-boxing me with his arms...how is he still capable of thinking semi-strategically?)"
As Naoki tries to close the distance, the spirit backpedals. As the spirit swings, Naoki ducks or sidesteps, leading back to square one.
"To hell with this," comments Naoki. He whips out his flute from his pocket and rears it near his mouth. Scrambling, the ghost rushes forward, unfamiliar to the pace he was going before.
"Holy SHIT-" Naoki runs back, only for the drunken rage to catch up to him quickly. "(I can't really make a tune if I'm breathing in and out from running.)"
Naoki instinctively hardens his ki, readying for an impact from the haymakers. He then realizes that the spirit wasn't aiming to strike him. In actuality, the spirit latches on to Naoki.
"A grab again?" Naoki puts his arms in front of his chest and stomach, readying to catch the knee once more.
Only for the spirit to use his free hand to pull a new bottle from his pompadour, and infuses the materialized beverage with Ki.
Without Ki, a bottle (or any everyday object) hitting against a ki infused sorcerer might as well be made out of cardboard or cheap china plastic.
With Ki however-
CRASH.
The punk smashes the bottle straight into Naoki's face.
Naoki, holding his face, spits out blood and glass before frantically yelling. "ITS IN MY EYES. ITS IN MY FUCKING EYE-"
The punk clocks Naoki again in the jaw.
The now blinded Naoki is on his knees and tries to concentrate. The rustling of the sand. The loud frantic pace of the footsteps. The vaguely prick-shaped silhouette running towards him.
"(Three meters away, to the right. He's going for an insanely telegraphed haymaker.)"
Waiting for the timing, Naoki slightly adjusts himself sidewise.
"GRRRAAAAAAAAAAHHH" Yells the inebriated spirit.
"And with you yelling, you just made this easier," comments Naoki.
As the spirit lowers his fist down, intending to cave Naoki's head in, Naoki semi-stands up, wraps his arm around the spirit's arm, and uses the spirit's own momentum against him. The physical world doesn't necessarily hurt spirits. However, sometimes a cardboard trap can still ensure victory.
THWACK.
The spirit gets slammed on the ground, his back planted into the sand. Even if it didn't hurt, he's still stuck. There, the spirit greets his executioner.
With his eyes still bleeding, Naoki forces them open, and raises his foot right above the punk's head. "Any last words, asshole?"
The spirit in turn, stares into Naoki's red eyes, and opens his mouth. An eyeball with three diagonal lines as its pupil, fills up the spirit's mouth.
[Share the shot]
"𝔻𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕦𝕡."
Responds the spirit in a distant, cold tone.
The effects of an entire bottle's worth of hard liquor (plus a beer), impacts Naoki's psyche.
Immediately, Naoki lets go of the spirit's arm and stumbles back. A massive migraine hits him. His vision is wobbly. His sense of balanced is skewed. He too, feels numb. "Oh f-f-f-f...."
Naoki turns to his side and feels sick. Retching, he gets on all fours.
The punk stands up, closes his mouth, re-models his messed up pompadour, and starts sprinting towards Naoki. "When you go to the afterlife, and your creator asks for a name-"
"(I sacrifice 20% of my Ki for the next attack)." Declares the spirit to himself.
Winding up his leg, the spirit aims for Naoki's stomach.
"TELL HIM SAIZO SENT YOU."
THWACK
A kick so hard it lifts Naoki off the ground. The teenager immediately vomits. Picking the inebriated sorcerer up, Saizo drags him to the ocean and starts shoving his head underwater.
"You think you can just walk into MY business in the afterlife? When people still owed me MY money, they think they can just- walk away?"
Naoki frantically kicks and flails around, gargling and struggling for air.
"No one disrespects Saizo. Not in my life. And certainly, not even when I'M DEAD."
Naoki grips onto Saizo's wrists, and infuses Ki into his fingers. Aiming to cut the spirit's wrist in half, or make him bleed, Saizo still presses on. The spirit hardens himself with his own Ki to counteract Naoki's plan.
"In the next life, don't get into someone else's busin-"
THWOOOM
The next second, Naoki sits up and gasps for as much air as possible. Saizo is gone. Naoki looks around.
Up in the air, Yamada holds onto Saizo by the clothes. "PUT ME DOWN YOU ASSHOLE."
"If you insist..."
Yamada then careens towards the ground, and accelerates faster, using the pavement as an impromptu cheese-grater, turning the spirit into a gooey pile of yuegh.
Yamada finally lets go, as all that remains of Saizo is a thick, messy pile of clay and spiritual gore.
Yamada breathes in, then out, before running back towards the shore.
"Naoki! Are you alright? I'm so sorry."
"GGGRAARRGHHGGHFPPPTTTOOOOooooooo," says Naoki, spitting out water. He then points towards Yamada. "K...Ki."
"...What?"
"K-Ki...you- you- *hic* you dii int youse...KI."
Yamada finally turns around.
Saizo is back up, with his face reshapen back to its former glory.
"Kinda smart. However, you chose the wrong Yanki to piss off...
...
Asshole."
Yamada's antenna quiver. His mandibles tighten, and he bears his fangs. He lowers himself to his cockroach stance.