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The peaceful silence of summer's eve in residential Tokyo is normally only broken by the mournful cry of the cicada, but on this particular night, the sounds of fighting rang through the deserted streets. This battle was not like the occasional rumbles of high school street gangs, nor was it the tense and thankfully rare confrontation of police and criminal; no, this battle was one that took place every day, in the shadows, out of sight and beneath the notice of ordinary people. A lone figure, clad in the heavy blue armor of the God of Battle, found himself surrounded by more than half a dozen man-sized creatures, each with a thick green carapace and stubby arms that ended in long, sharp claws. To a casual observer--one who did not flee the spectacle in terror--it would seem comically one-sided, and so it was--but not in the expected way.
Gatack grappled with one of the immature Worm, his brief distraction from the heads-up display tracking their movements having given one of them the opportunity to attack, and no sooner did he throw the creature off than three more tackled him, pinning him against the nearby wall. His current position notwithstanding, the computer informed him of a target lock, and as he yelled out a wordless battle cry, he squeezed the triggers built into his gloves and activated his Gatack Vulcan. The shoulder-mounted cannons made short work of the more distant Worm, the armor-piercing rounds effortlessly defeating their armored shells, and with no shell to save them from the follow-up tachyon pulse, the space-time distortion that allowed them to survive collapsed, eradicating them in a burst of green flame. The time-distorting shockwaves dislodged two of the Worm pinning him, and Gatack himself threw the third off to join them, and with a second yell, another volley from the Gatack Vulcan finished the three.
To his left, Gatack heard the characteristic sounds of moulting. He brought his arm up to block, but too late--the now mature Worm crouched low, then with a blur ran to and through him, sending him tumbling back to the mouth of an alley. "Cast Off!" he commanded as he regained his balance, and with a flick of the Gatack Zecter, the computer acknowledged: CAST OFF. His own heavy armor split into pieces as the safeties disengaged, then was blown away by another tachyon-fueled time distortion; the suit beneath protected Gatack from the intense heat of the explosion. By the time the two mandibles rose to frame his helmet, and the computer announced the pupation complete with CHANGE STAG BEETLE, he was already in position to act. "Clock Up!" he commanded, and slapped the Gatack Buckle over his right hip. The computer obediently responded CLOCK UP and overclocked the time distortion that empowered the Rider System, sending tachyons through the trinium circuitry embedded in the Rider Form and pulling Gatack's perceptions and movements into relativistic speed.
Gatack barely had any space to get used to the new flow of time before the mature Worm was on him. He blocked its first few attacks while he studied its movements, looking for an opening. Unlike most Worm, this one was still heavily armored even in imago. Its upper body and limbs were protected by three wide, heavy-looking triangular armor plates of smooth brownish-black chitin, but the edges of each segment were colored bright orange and, as one attempt to block a strike from an armored limb resulted in smoke, sparks, and blood, those edges were exceedingly sharp. The segmented armor continued down the creature's abdomen, with more than a dozen overlapping triangular plates extending down from the torso to form a two meter long tail. Each of those segments ended in sharpened orange spikes. Just when he was about to turn on the offensive and try to herd the creature back to the wall to restrict its movements that tail extended and shot toward him like a segmented steel whip. He jumped out of the way, rolling as he landed, but the whip-like tail still found purchase near his side, giving him a shallow cut but also slicing clean through the Gatack Buckle. The Rider System immediately shut off the overclocking, returning Gatack to the normal flow of time, and the Worm used this opportunity to escape faster than Gatack could follow.
Gatack disengaged the Gatack Zecter, releasing it to fly to safety, and the armor of frozen time around him melted away as the generated tachyon field dispersed, revealing an out of breath but mostly unhurt Kagami Arata. Arata felt his side where the whip tail had struck and winced. His hand came back with rather less blood than he expected--without the armor he would easily have been sliced into two or three pieces--but the shallow gash still stung, even if it wasn't a deep enough cut to require stitches. More importantly, the Gatack Buckle itself was damaged, the Clock-Up Switch sliced through and the entire right side charred black from the sparks. The Henshin Brace along the front looked to still be functional, but without a pretty extensive repair...
A far-off police siren broke him out of his thoughts. It was no use thinking about what he couldn't do--he'd much rather concentrate on what he could, and right now, that meant getting back in touch with the Intelligence Division and tracking the Worm that got away.
***
Morning in the Tendou household is always marked by the delicious smell of home-cooked Japanese fare, and this one was no exception. From the moment the sun rose, the kitchen was filled with the sounds of chopping, whisking, frying, and tasting, until the delicious smell of caramelized batter and sauce filled the house. It was this smell that greeted Juka as the energetic young girl bounded down the stairs. "Good morning, big bro!" she called from the entryway to their spacious living room as she gave a whimsical salute.
"You're certainly up early, considering it's summer," Souji playfully teased from the couch as he read the morning paper. As was his normal morning ritual no matter the time of year, he relaxed with a cup of warm tea in his indigo yukata once he was satisfied with the morning's work.
"That's because I have tennis practice this morning," she countered. Then she did a spin, modeling her athletic outfit: a cute off-white designer polo shirt, tucked into easy-breathing khaki shorts, and tied together with a visor that kept the sun out of her eyes and her ponytail out of the way. "How do I look?" Without even waiting for a response, she practically ran up to the dining area to see what this morning's breakfast would be. "Whoa! Okonomiyaki!"
Arrayed on the table were three dishes topped with the traditional savory Japanese pancake, an iron spatula for cutting, and a small plate for Juka. She wasted no time digging in while the young chef described the spread. "The one on the left is thin-sliced pork belly with fried egg. In the middle is sweet corn and red potato topped with mayonnaise. And on the right is your favorite, pan-seared mackerel with miso paste." Juka had already sampled all three, and as he finished she swallowed and voiced her approval. "They're all so good! The crispy-crunchy exterior with a delicately fluffy inside, the mix of fresh flavors from the ingredients, the salty-sweet special sauce... it's just great!" She took another bite, and joyfully exclaimed at the crispy crunch. "Mmmm! I'm so glad to be alive! Your okonomiyaki really is the best, bro!"
"The trick is all in how you use the yam," Souji explained as he moved over to the table to better converse with his adopted sibling. "It has to be fresh to start, and soaked in vinegar and lemon juice. You mix the flour, cabbage, and other ingredients without it, and then grate the yam with one hand while you fold in the resulting tororo with the other, careful not to mix too much. Then when you fry it, you cook it on the one side just long enough for the batter to set before you flip it, and return to the first side at the end before you put in the toppings. You have to brush on the otafuku sauce early, too, so it has time to caramelize and bring out the true sweetness." He sat across from her and set his nearly folded paper off to one side. Normally buried on the fourth page, the article headline he'd folded to the outside read Disappearance of Three Vexes Police. He went on, "I had to make sure this year's yam crop was good enough to serve, what with the unusual weather in Aomori over the past year."
Serve? But why would he-- "Oh! The festival!" Juka clapped her hands together apologetically. "I'm sorry, bro! I didn't tell you! I'm going out with some friends from tennis club Saturday, so I won't be able to help you run the booth!"
"That's fine," he replied, with a reassuring smile. "You're always helping me out whenever I decide to set up shop. You deserve some time for yourself. Oh, but you'll still be coming on Sunday, right? We should go shopping for a new yukata for you."
"Oh, could we?" Her smile returned in full force. "Actually, I'll be there Saturday too! My friends and I are still going to the festival, we'll just be eating instead of cooking."
"You will? Maybe I could go with you and sample some of the competition."
"What!? No, no, don't do that! It's--" She blushed a but and composed her response. "It's a waste, isn't it? Not to open your booth? I feel sorry for all 10,000 attendees, to be deprived of this okonomiyaki!"
"Ha! Well, I was only planning to serve 600 anyway. What time is your practice?"
Juka looked over to the clock as she took a sip of tea and her eyes bulged at the time. She hurriedly swallowed and gathered her things. "It's 9 already!? I'm gonna be late!" She rushed to the door, but then stopped just before leaving. "I'm gonna be back around 1, okay? See you later, big bro!"
"Have a safe practice," Souji called after her. He returned his eyes to the paper, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Juka was unusually evasive about her plans. Maybe those 600 would just have to go home disappointed this year...
***
The bell jingled as Souji pushed open the door to Bistro La Salle. He carried with him two bags laden with ingredients. Since it was still morning, it was no surprise that the front of the restaurant was completely empty; the Bistro only opened for a three hour lunch and a four hour dinner each day. A young woman peeked through the service window to check on the noise. "Excuse me, we're not--oh, it's just you."
"Just you? Is that any way to treat your best customer?" Souji moved towards his usual table and set his bags down.
"If that's what you're here for, come back in an hour. We're closed."
"Now, now, Hiyori-chan, don't be so picky!" A second, older woman made her way through the beaded curtain that separated the kitchen from the dining area, wiping her hands on the towel tucked away in her apron while she walked. "What can we do for you?"
"Ms. Takemiya. Let me borrow your kitchen," he said, and gestured at the bags he'd brought. "Also, what are your plans for the festival this weekend?"
"The Juuban street fair? Well, to tell you the truth..." She leaned in close and cupped a hand over the handsome boy's ear, then spoke in an exaggerated stage whisper. "I haven't been in over ten years!" She laughed, then stood back upright and playfully swatted at his shoulder. "Why the sudden interest?"
Souji was more than content to flirt back, especially with a happily married older woman. "I must admit that you're quite dashing," he replied, taking her hand in his. "But my interests lie elsewhere. I asked because something came up and I won't be able to go myself."
"And? Why should we care?" Hiyori followed her boss to the seating area. The prep work was almost done anyway. If either of her two conversational partners were at all bothered by her bluntness, they didn't show it. "I've never been myself. Why make a big deal over it?"
"I was just wondering if you were planning a booth for La Salle this year."
"Hmm..." Ms. Takemiya freed her hand drummed her fingers on the nearby table and stared off into the distance as she considered. "Well, it would be pretty good promotion. They get, what, 11 or 12 thousand people each year?"
"About 7 thousand a day, though a lot of people come both days."
"That's a lot of eyes on our signage and a lot of tongues tasting our food and telling their friends about it! But it's this weekend, you said? Ah, it's way too late to be thinking about now! You need permits for these things!"
"Yeah, that's right." Souji reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved a folded piece of paper, which he snapped open with a flourish. "Permits like this one."
"What!?" She took the paper and read over it, eyes widening at each line. "This is a really good location, too! Right on the main drag, only half a block from the stage!" Her gaze turned back to the young man's. "And you're not going to use it?" she asked, incredulous.
"Something came up." He shrugged.
"So?" Hiyori crossed her arms and tried to read the permit over her boss's shoulder. "What's that got to do with us?"
"I want to give you my permit."
"Really!?" The older woman practically skipped as she turned to Hiyori. "Doesn't that sound great, Hiyori-chan?"
"But," Souji continued, holding up a hand to forestall her reaction, "I have some conditions."
"Like what?" Hiyori asked, still unswayed.
"Number one." He pointed to Hiyori. "You cook. No offense, ma'am."
The restaurant owner laughed. "None taken. I knew Hiyori-chan was a better cook than me from day one. That's why I hired her!"
"Number two." His finger moved to indicate the bags. "We design the menu together. You haven't done festival food before; I have. I know what works and what doesn't when you need to cook and serve quick, I know what you can prepare ahead, I know what shortcuts you can get away with without sacrificing quality when you're behind."
"But then it'll hardly be Bistro La Salle, will it?" Hiyori protested. "If I'm just cooking what you tell me to it's just like you're running your own booth!"
"And number three," he continued, ignoring her. "It's for Saturday only. I'm still running my own show Sunday. But in return, you get my location, my equipment, and my expertise." He made a great show of emphasizing the third as he looked from Hiyori to her boss. "Deal?"
"Deal!" Ms. Takemiya replied, almost squealing. "We can start working on the details right now!"
"Why do I gotta do it?" Hiyori continued her protest. "It's gonna be so crowded there with that then thousand people or whatever."
"Don't worry," Souji replied, soothingly. "As long as you're cooking, it doesn't matter how many people are outside the kitchen, does it? It'll be just like working here. No crowd to get lost in if you only see them one or two at a time."
"Then it's settled!" The owner grabbed one of the bags, and looped her free arm around Souji's, escorting him back to the kitchen.
"Don't I get a say?" Hiyori said.
"No," they responded in unison.
***
Based on your description, I'm giving this one the codename Duliticola Worm. I'm contacting Headquarters for confirmation, but for now your orders are to stay in Juuban and cover the festival area as well as you can, and stay in radio contact. There are far too many people around to risk a head-on confrontation. At the first sign of trouble, get out of sight and Clock Up to minimize the collateral damage. Understood?
Arata sighed heavily as he mentally reviewed the previous night's debriefing with Mr. Tadokoro. "But how'm I supposed to do that if I can't Clock Up?" he said to himself under his breath and pushed his way into Bistro La Salle, only 20 minutes late for his part-time shift.
The jingle of the door attracted the attentions of a certain someone who was bent over a table writing down some figures. He looked up at the door and gave an almost smile--or so it seemed to Arata--that quickly disappeared. The eye contact shocked Arata out of his thoughts. "Tendou! What are you doing here?"
"Good timing. You should help out too." Souji put his hands on Arata's shoulders, sending a jolt of electricity up and down his spine, and guided him to a chair at the front table. "Sit down."
"W-what's going on?"
"We're testing a new menu. Hiyori!" Souji called, and Hiyori came from the kitchen bearing four plates that she let drop unceremoniously to the table with a clatter. She looked even more pissed off than usual. After dumping the plates she gave Arata a death glare, as if blaming the whole situation on him, then stomped her way back into the kitchen.
"You know, you shouldn't tease her like that..."
"I'm pushing her to expand her horizons. There's a world-class chef in there if I can only coax it out."
Arata's eyes fell to the plates. Looked like some kind of sandwich, a spread, a stew, and a crêpe. "So..."
Souji sighed, and pointed at each dish as he explained. "Croque-monsieur with Gruyère cheese on croissant. Pâté de campagne on toasted baguette. Crêpe bretonne with egg and mushroom. And the La Salle specialty, coq au vin."
Arata nodded slowly, then began to sample the dishes. First, he picked up the croque-monsieur and bit into it with a satisfying crunch. "It's good. The cheese is melty and complements the salty ham well, and the croissant adds a hint of sweetness." Then he tried the pâté. "Oh, wow. This is great! But it's a little drier than I expected. Maybe it needs to be paired with a drink." The crêpe: "I expected it to be sweeter, but it's buckwheat, right? I want to put some soy sauce on it." And finally, the coq au vin. "This is always my favorite dish, eating here. The flavor is just great!"
Souji frowned, unsatisfied. "You had to use two hands for the crêpe and the coq au vin. The pâté was too salty, that's why you thought it was dry. Just like I thought, there's still a long way to go."
"Huh? Why would it matter if it takes two hands?" Arata looked back over the dishes, and just now noticed that except for the coq au vin, they were all sandwich-like, easily portable. He only needed two hands for the crêpe because it was so big, although the thinness of the crêpe itself and the hearty fillings were part of the appeal.
"For a festival dish to be successful, it needs to be finger-food," Souji explained.
Hiyori slammed her hands on the counter of the service window and shouted from the kitchen. "You can just hold the bowl in one hand and eat with the other! It's fine!" Arata flinched. Apparently this was the argument that got her angry.
Souji just shook his head and repeated himself. "You need to eat it with one hand. Trust me." Hiyori huffed and disappeared back into the depths of the kitchen.
"Festival? You don't mean..." Arata finally remembered the real reason he'd come in to work: to find Souji. "The Juuban Street Fair!?" He suddenly stood, and grabbed the other man's arm. "Tendou! A Wo-- a W-- a--"
Souji roughly jerked his arm from the younger man's grip. "What are you trying to say? Spit it out."
Arata looked around to make sure Hiyori and Ms. Takemiya weren't listening in from somewhere. Even so, he made sure to speak lowly and euphemistically. "An uninvited guest is coming to the festival!"
"What do you mean, uninvited?" Souji responded at full volume, unable or unwilling to meet Arata halfway. "You're a part-timer at La Salle, of course you're going to help run the booth."
"Huh? Booth? Me!? No-- no way! Tendou, listen, that's not what I'm saying!"
"Oh, you have plans too?" Souji half smiled. He was entirely aware of what he was doing, but it was just too fun to tease the kid. Arata was always too high strung and never knew how to relax.
Ms. Takemiya appeared from the kitchen door, holding the beaded curtain to one side. "Don't worry, Kagami-kun! I'll let you have the day off. Hiyori-chan and I will be fine by ourselves!"
"That's... that's not what I'm trying to-- Tendou! We need to talk!"
"More importantly, we need to finish the menu." Souji picked up the paper he'd been working on and started to walk back to the kitchen. Arata saw that it had about a dozen entrees with prices and comments, most of them crossed off. "Lunch service starts in 10 minutes and I want to try the food on your regulars."
"What..." Arata swallowed as he tried to think. "What about a croquette? You can eat that in one hand and you can fill it with anything."
"...that's a surprisingly good idea." Souji jotted some figures on the paper, and nodded. "I guess you are useful for something after all, Kagami."
"What's that supposed to mean!?"
"There'll be too much competition on croquettes. We'll try hachis Parmentier. Hiyori, have you made it before?"
"...no."
"It's easy. I'll show you. First we make a shell of potato mash..." and he disappeared into the kitchen.
Arata started after him, but Ms. Takemiya came out immediately after, blocking his way, and handed him a rag. "As long as you're going to come to work, you might as well work, okay? Lunch service is in 8 minutes. Clean, clean!"
***
It took until the end of the (very successful) lunch service, but Souji finally got around to having a chat with Arata outside. "So, what did you need to talk about?"
"A Worm has infiltrated the festival," Arata confessed. "It's mimicking one of the entertainers."
"That's rough. It'll be too crowded to act during the festival. It's best to take it out before." He tapped Arata on the chest, indicating where his ZECT logo would be, were he in uniform.
"You think I don't know that already!? The thing is..." Arata looked down. "...we don't know which performer it's mimicking."
"So you need my help." Souji crossed his arms.
"We need to case the festival, observe the entertainers, and..."
"And if trouble breaks out, deal with it." Arata nodded, but Souji wasn't satisfied yet. "Why come to me? Don't you have confidence in your own abilities?"
"Well, the thing is... I can't Clock Up."
"Can't Clock Up?"
"The Worm damaged my belt. It's got this long flexible armored tail it uses like a whip, and the sharp spines on it cut right through the armor."
"So that's why. Fine. You point it out, and I'll take it out. I'm more than enough on my own."
"Stop saying that! I want-- I want to defeat the Worm too, you know! Only..."
"Only what?"
"...thanks. This time, I'll rely on you."
"Don't make a big deal about it. It's not like I'm doing it for you. I have my own reasons to case the festival, so I was going with or without you. But if you want to come, find me at Azabu-Juuban station at 3."
As Tendou walked away, Arata fumed. "You're allowed to be nice, you know!" he shouted after the retreating form, who only waved him off with one hand without turning in response.
***
The festival was crowded, as it was every year. Thousands of people were pressed into just a few blocks of street, both sides lined with booth after booth--most selling food. At the center, a stage was raised up where performers took turns playing the taiko drum, and all around the stage an area was cleared for anyone who wanted to to join in to the Obon dance.
Souji's focus was on two things as he and Arata walked the festival ground: first, and most importantly, he needed to find Juka, so he can watch over her without her knowledge; and second, he actually did want to sample some of the more famous restaurants' festival offerings. Arata, meanwhile, though he had the more serious mission--preventing an incident of unprecedented size--had a much more casual attitude.
As they walked past a number of game booths, a voice called out: "Hey, sir, you look like a baseball player, why not test your luck?" Arata turned towards him. He held a baseball in one hand, and indicated the stacked cups behind with the other.
"Well, I did go to Koshien..." He smiled goofily and started warming up his arm. Souji sighed and followed, but kept his back to the booth and watched the crowd.
"200 yen gives you three throws. 500 gets you ten."
"I'll take three throws, then." He handed over his two hundred yen, then pretended to pitch a ball. "I bet I won't even need three! Right, Tendou?"
"You said she was wearing traditional garb? What kind of clothes?"
"Oh, you know... white and light blue, jacket undone, only comes to mid thigh." His first toss knocked three cups out of the stack of ten, and he gave a victorious fist pump.
"You need all ten to win," the booth proprietor said, and handed over the second ball. "Two throws left."
"No sweat, no sweat," Arata said, and prepared to throw the second ball. Visualized throwing it. Practiced throwing it.
"Just throw it already!" Souji said, startling Arata, whose halfheartedly tossed ball only knocked out one of the six remaining cups.
"Ah! Tendou! You..!"
"One throw left," the propitiator said, handing over the ball.
"Fine! I said it would take two and it'll only take two!" This time Arata wound up as if he were pitching, and sent the ball straight through the center of the cups. Four more went with it, leaving two.
"Sorry, sir. 200 more gives you a fourth shot."
Souji pushed the former baseball player aside. "Stack all ten cups back up. How much for just one throw?"
"One throw, sir? 100 yen."
"Done." Souji flicked a 100 yen coin to the proprietor, who deftly caught it, and tossed a ball in return. Souji tossed the ball up and caught it a second time on the way down, then wound up and threw it--slower than Arata, and with a spin--knocking out all ten cups. The boothrunner obediently handed over the prize: a plush doll of the DaiBouken, which he promptly handed over to Arata. "Here. You wanted this, right? Let's move on."
"Huh?" Arata sputtered for a minute, then followed after the older man, plush doll tucked under one arm. "Hey! I really went to Koshien, you know!"
"Playing what position? Manager?" Souji teased.
"Third baseman and fourth batter!" Arata shot back.
"There she is," Souji answered, changing the subject.
"What?" Arata looked over the crowd, but he didn't see anyone nearby looking like he remembered. "Where?"
"Not the Worm," Souji said, pointing. "My sister."
"Your--" Arata turned to look where Souji was pointing. Juka stood with a group of her freinds in colorful yukata, holding a skewer of takoyaki and talking animatedly. "Oh, Juka-chan?" But then an older girl ran up to them, and after a few words she was incorporated into the group, the lot of them making their way towards the stage. "W-- wait! That woman she's with!"
***
The pair of them kept eyes on Juka and the suspected Worm, but nothing untoward happened until after the festival closed for the night and all the workers packed away their things. Once the crowds had dispersed, Souji decided it was time to act.
"I need to talk to you about my sister." Souji grabbed the performer's shoulder.
"Huh?" She turned to face the two men.
"I'm sorry." Arata cut in, trying a less direct approach. "We're with the police. Can you come with us back to the station so we can ask you a few questions?"
The Worm dropped her mimic. Arata had a moment of panic, looking around at the other workers disassembling and packing equipment, but then they, too, emerged from their disguises. "What!?"
"I thought so. It's the whole troupe." Souji raised his hand. A hole in time ripped above him, and the Kabuto Zecter dived through the hole, flew once around his body, then alighted. He wasted no time in bringing it down to snap into the Henshin Brace of his Kabuto Buckle. "Henshin," he commanded. HENSHIN, the computer confirmed, and emitted a tachyon pulse with the right frequency modulation to solidify the time around him into a suit of heavy armor: Kabuto, the God of the Sun.
Arata was not far behind. "Henshin!" he shouted as he snapped the Gatack Zecter into place. HENSHIN, the computer echoed. The armor formed around him, but despite his inability to Clock Up, he felt using Masked Form was too much of a disadvantage in such a confined space. "Cast Off!" he called, and pulled the Zecter's mandibles back.
"Cast Off," Souji called, in tactical agreement. Both computers confirmed CAST OFF simultaneously, then CHANGE BEETLE and CHANGE STAG BEETLE.
As the two Riders emerged from pupation, the immature Worm rushed and attempted to overwhelm them. The enhanced mobility of Rider Form allowed them to handily dodge out of the way. Kabuto countered each attack with a one-two punch, while Gatack equipped his Gatack Double Calibur for simultaneous attack and defense. Together the two herded the Worm together, then as Kabuto destroyed the outliers with a series of well-placed attacks, Gatack shouted "Rider Cutting!" The computer activated RIDER CUTTING, charging the Double Calibur with tachyon energy, and Gatack charged through the group, severing their connection to the normal flow of time--explosively.
The Duliticola Worm wasted no time after the destruction of its comrades: it jumped and used its relativistic speed to climb the scaffolding that was all which remained from the stage. Kabuto responded with "Clock Up," slapping the side of the Kabuto Buckle. The computer responded CLOCK UP, and, now matched to the Worm's metabolism, Kabuto lept to catch up to the fleeing Worm. Atop the scaffolding, the two fought. Duliticola swiped with its tail; Kabuto, remembering Gatack's warning, jumped over it to dodge, and it sliced through the scaffolding beneath them effortlessly. Kabuto advanced, striking the Worm's armored upper body, but his attacks had no effect. The Worm's counter punch was too close for him to dodge, so he rolled with it to absorb the force and rolled completely off the scaffold, catching himself on the edge. The Worm took the opportunity to advance, striking with his whip-tail to where Kabuto's left hand held, then his right; as the first attack came, he let go with his left, and as the second, he pulled up with his right and lept over the Worm to the other side, but the Worm spun around and with a third attack sliced him--right across the right hip. The Kabuto Buckle shot sparks as the circuits overloaded, and the computer hastily warned CLOCK OVER as the time-space distortion ended. Returned to the normal flow of time, Kabuto scrambled to get to safety as the scaffolding beneath him collapsed from the damage sustained.
Gatack called out, "Kabuto!" Kabuto stood from within the wreckage, unharmed, and turned half towards him. "What can we do now!?"
Kabuto raised his hand. "My grandmother used to say... if you can't visit your friend, invite them to come to you." He pointed to a far off glint, and then began to release the safeties on the Kabuto Zecter. ONE TWO THREE the computer announced as the energy began to build. Gatack got the hint and ran to join him. Kabuto pulled the lever to direct the energy to his Kabuto Horn and called "Rider Kick." RIDER KICK, the computer confirmed.
Gatack leaped up and kicked off of Kabuto's shoulder for additional height. "Rider Kick!" he shouted, and his computer answered RIDER KICK as well. Gatack's Rider Kick came from above, and Kabuto's Rider Kick came from below, and just when they were about to collide, the hypersonic Worm caught itself between the two, and the transverse shockwave of the Double Rider Kick severed its time distortion with a burst of green flame. Gatack landed cleanly. Kabuto offered a thumbs up, and he enthusiastically returned it.
***
A few weeks later, Arata thought back to this battle, and how Kabuto had been able to Clock Up since. ZECT had repaired his Gatack Buckle, but Souji was acting on his own, without support--and the Rider Belt didn't self-repair. But... wait...
"Tendou!" he demanded the next time they met. "Way back when you faked Kabuto's death--how did you deal with the broken belt!?"
Souji chuckled. "Oh, that? That was your belt. I stole it while you weren't looking. There were two Kabuto Buckles, remember? I've had my belt for seven years."
"And-- and the time at the festival!?"
"My belt wasn't even scratched. That was merely an act, for your benefit. I Clocked Up again when you weren't looking to make it look like we defeated the Worm together."
"WHAT!?"
But Souji merely laughed again as he walked away.
"TENDOU!!!" Arata shouted and ran after him. They continued to argue as the sun set over the Tokyo Tower.