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"Everyone may have noticed the new face in this meeting. Allow me to take this moment to formally introduce you all to the newest Class S hero: Metal Bat.”
The heroes present shifted their focus away from the keynote speaker to a figure sitting opposite, in the seat reserved for lowest ranking members. In this seat, reclined a young man with a red shirt underneath a baggy gakuran and his hair styled in a pompadour straight out of an 80’s manga.
“Eh? This punk’s a hero?” Tatsumaki scoffed, only for her scorn to be met with an unimpressed snarl from said punk.
“Tch, and what kind of name is Metal Bat? What’s he do? Catch monsters in a home run?” Child Emperor jeered.
“No, more like cave their skulls in. Care for a demonstration?” Metal Bat jumped to his feet, brandishing his newly received weapon more like a sword than sports equipment.
“Now, now, there’s no need for infighting.” Silverfang said, standing up while Child Emperor did not. “I think people here are forgetting that there are as many types of heroes as there are people.”
“No, we just think he’s dumb.” Child Emperor stated.
It was only the beeping of his phone that prevented his bat from going down the brat’s throat, as it was a reminder for him to go pick up his sister from piano practice.
“Thanks again for the gift. I gotta go.” And he didn’t wait for further comments.
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It all started when he had found the tapes. He’d been in the garage that Sunday, looking for any spare baseballs after losing his fifth and final one in the park yesterday. After shoving a box to the side, he’d inadvertently dislodged another box leaning heavily against it and just barely managed to catch the falling container before it crashed into his skull.
In lowering the box in his hands to the floor, Badd noticed its contents were simply video tapes. They were an old technology, but Badd was familiar enough with them, having watched his first teeball game and his sister’s first steps on such media. And now here was a whole box full of them! Badd wondered what sort of memories could be saved with this many tapes and decided to forfeit his hunt for a baseball to find out.
He lugged the box into the living room, nearby tripping over the last step into the house, and quickly claimed the unused television and VCR in the living room. Badd grabbed the first tape on top of the messy pile and slid it into the player just like his mom showed him. After pressing the play button, he sat back on his haunches as the fuzzy screen filtered into a dark video of people walking. The person filming kept focus on the back of the tallest one, with a dark leather jacket and even darker hair.
"Yo, Wataru!” Shouted a voice, possibly the camera man himself. “Look over here ya sexy bastard!”
The man in view turned towards the voice and immediately flipped the camera off, whether this was to the camera itself or to the person holding it was unclear, but the smirk on Wataru’s face made it clear it was all in good humor.
When Wataru’s smirk smoothed into something a bit more gentle and even, Badd paused the tape. He rewound back a few seconds, wondering if his hunch was correct.
"Yo, Wataru, look over here ya sexy bastard!”
He turned around and-
Badd paused the tape and scooted closer to the screen, nearly touching it with his nose. Wataru…that was his dad’s first name. And that smile. And these tapes had been in their garage. Was Wataru-
“Hey kiddo, watcha got there?”
Badd turned away from the young Wataru to see him in the flesh and twenty-some years older. Without his face blocking the screen, Dad was able to make out the footage and a smile, an eerie echo to what Badd had seen seconds prior.
“Well whadaya know. I was wonderin’ where those old things had gotten. Ayumi, come over here!”
Mom walked into the room, apron still on from cleaning breakfast dishes, with her eyes on Dad. She raised her eyebrows at him, silently communicating in their secret language that Badd hadn’t yet figured out, and Dad jerked his head to the TV. Once her attention fell onto the screen, Mom’s pursed mouth stretched into a smile and the skin around her eyes crinkled like when Badd offered to help cook.
“Oh, it’s been ages since I’ve seen this.” She said, her voice weak as if she’d almost lost her breath. She knelt down by the box and began rummaging with more purpose than Badd had.
“Ah! Play this one dear!” She asked, tape in hand and shine in eyes.
Dad acquisted without even asking Badd if he could have his turn with the TV, but Badd was a little too interested in what was going on to care about the family rules. After the tapes were switched, Badd saw a video that was much brighter –filmed during the day—and featured a park filled with people in leather jackets and funny hair. Most of them were, well Badd would have guessed dancing but he’d never seen anything like it. They were wiggling their hips and doing spins and splits. Every so often one of the men would flip off the camera, with the repeat offender being one older man in a denim jacket. After a minute or two, the camera shifted to the side of the dancing area and Badd saw a handful of girls, or maybe women? It was hard to tell. They looked young, but they had makeup, which Mom said only grown-ups could wear.
“Do you recognize me?” Badd heard Mom say behind his right shoulder. He thought she might have been asking him, and he was struggling to figure out which one of the girl-women was Mom.
“Of course,” Dad interjected before Badd could guess. “That beauty right there.” Dad’s finger pointed to one of the figures closer to the camera, a blonde with red beads and a pink dress that puffed out when she spun.
Badd saw Dad, Wataru, approach young-Mom and pull her into the dancing. She followed him eagerly, joining in with a fervor that matched, and even outpaced a few, of the men. He watched his parents, dressed in clothes he’s never seen dancing to music he’s never heard, come together for a quick kiss.
Dad, face wrinkle free and sporting a lopsided smirk that gave his eyes something dark and dangerous. His hair was thick and opaque, defying gravity with more ease than Badd had expected hair could do.
And as for Mom. It wasn’t so much as he thought her natural hair color was blonde, rather he hadn’t given it much thought to begin with. Her lips were the same cherry red as those villainous seductresses in cartoons, yet her eyes and smile were so genuine and happy.
“Those were the days,” he faintly heard Dad say behind him.
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The next Monday, while Badd was finishing up his breakfast, he asked his dad to make his hair before leaving for school.
Dad smiled broadly, bringing a shine to his eye not dissimilar to what Badd had seen on the tapes. “Oh, you want your hair up like mine was?”
Badd’s excited nod made the grin on Dad’s face grow. Unfortunately, the hand that landed on his head moved with a chaotic ruffle rather than purposeful styling. Badd didn’t see the point in hiding his disapproval, and his pout only deepened when Dad actually chuckled at him.
“I’m not saying no, kid. But your hair’s gonna have to be a lot longer for me to do it up. Think you can wait that long?”
Badd had been learning about patience in school lately and was now at the point where he could sit quietly and do his work for the entire morning! So he was confident in nodding yes to his dad.
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It was almost one –agonizing— year later that Badd, practically vibrating in his stool in excitement, was able to have his hair styled. He walked into his school, now in 3rd grade, rocking a regent. His hair was stiff to the touch and his head swam a bit from the strange smell of the grease –pompade, Dad had called it—following him like a cloud, but his excitement from finally having the same hairdo as his badass dad made it all worth it.
He marched into class, back straight and head high so that all his classmates, who’d been teasing him for having girl hair, could see what he’d been working for.
The first one to see him was Hiroji, who watched him without any words escaping his ajar mouth. Badd didn’t really think much of it, remembering how confused he was when he first saw the hairdo a year ago. He continued to his seat and saw that Saburo was already at his desk. Badd leaned over to get his attention.
“Hey,”
Saburo brought his attention from the others by his desk, Ryūta and Gakuto, and Badd was suddenly a subject under all three sets of eyes.
“I’ve been growing my hair out for this,” Badd explained as he pointed to his hair. “It’s called a regent. My dad used to wear it and he had this leather jacket too and-”
“Looks dumb,” Ryūta cut in.
“Yeah, you look kinda like a villain,” Saburo snickered and the other two joined in.
Badd face started to get warm as the laughter grew.
“Yeah, with the red shirt, he kinda looks like, like, oh Bike Lord!” Gakuto finally managed to squeeze between laughs.
The warmth grew to feel more like fire underneath his skin.
“Oh yeah, I remember him. That biker gang guy who was always trying to take over Spice City with his punk power!” Ryūta crowed, sending the three into louder peals of laughter.
“I’m not a punk!” Badd snapped.
“Not yet,” Saburo sneered, “but your old man definitely was!”
Their laughter was cut short as Badd dove across the aisle. Saburo was slow to react, but the teacher wasn’t. Badd only had time to punch Saburo twice before he was yanked off and dragged to the hallway.
The heat boiled him from the inside out as he stood there, lectured by his teacher, that violence was no way to react to simple teasing and maybe he wouldn’t have been teased in the first place if he didn’t have such ridiculous hair. This was his one and final warning and if Badd didn’t shape up she’d be forced to call his parents.
When Badd asked if Saburo was going to be threatened with a phone call home too, she sent him back to his seat.
Badd sat down and saw, out of the corner of his eye, Saburo smirk at him. The fact that he was making that face around a split lip and reddened cheek, that he’d come out on top even though Badd had won, fanned the flame into a volcano.
He’d managed to withhold an eruption until he got home, when Mom had asked about his day.
“I want to beat the snot outa something!” He screamed.
Badd had in mind something more like getting a punching bag or a dojo enrollment, but he and Mom eventually agreed on baseball instead.
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Two years later, Badd was walking home from his latest game with Mom, Dad, and his little sister Zenko. She was old enough to walk, but had tired out about halfway home so Mom carried her while Badd walked between her and Dad, going over his favorite parts of the game.
He’d just been regaling his step-by-step thoughts before hitting his first ever home run when a thunderous crash came from their left. Badd only had enough time to see something big and dark before he was hidden behind Dad’s back. The monster spoke, but its gravelly speech was hidden behind the choked coughs Badd couldn’t keep down when a sickening stench wafted into the area.
“Ayumi! Take the kids and run!” Dad shouted before turning back to the monster just in time to catch its fist to his face. His body crashing into the nearby trashcans covered the sound of his and his mother’s footsteps.
Grasping tightly to Badd’s hand with her right and holding Zenko to her chest with her left, Mom raced around the nearest corner at a speed Badd had trouble keep up with. They went down the street, then turned left, then more down, then right, then more down, then right again. Badd was growing dizzy from all the sprinting and turns, way worse than any of the punishment drills his coach made the team do.
After another left turn somewhere, Badd couldn’t keep his legs straight anymore and fell down. He tried to get back up, but his knees felt like jelly. Badd choked down the tears and pushed himself up, the asphalt digging into the fresh callouses made by his new bat. The moment he managed to stand a sudden crash echoed down the street they’d come from. Mom grabbed Badd’s hand again but, instead of running, she threw him to the side.
“Get behind the bins.” She told him, the same tone she used when he was trying to get dessert without clearing his dinner plate. Knowing how serious she was, he scrambled behind the cover and held his arms out when he noticed Mom passing Zenko to him.
“Stay down. Stay quiet.” She glanced back to the previous street when another boom sounded, this one even louder.
“Badd, may I borrow your bat, please?” Mom’s eyes were wide and shiny, like when Zenko had the flu last fall. Since she’d had no patience then, Badd didn’t argue and unzipped his bag to take out his bat. Mom took with a nod and small smile. She moved to straighten up, but quickly kissed his and Zenko’s forehead before finishing the act.
“I love you both, so much.”
Badd already knew this. She said this every night she tucked him in. And yet. Somehow. He couldn’t tell, but, it sounded different. Bad different. Like when his favorite game at the arcade got a new version and all the characters were not quite the same. Badd almost stood up, to try and follow Mom and ask why she sounded different, but she froze him in place with The Look™.
The street vibrated then, and Badd pulled Zenko into his lap so she wouldn’t notice and start crying about it. The street started to shake then. Badd wished Mom were behind the trash cans with him so he could crawl into her lap.
That’s when the smell hit Badd.
Sharp and pungent. Rotten, like the trash Dad would sometimes forget to take out mixed with the public restrooms of a park concert. As the sounds came closer, and the smell grew stronger, Badd could notice faint traces of iron –the smell like the taste after he caught a baseball to the mouth— between the spoiled meat and unclean toilets. Zenko whimpered and he turned her head to his chest, hoping his sweaty jersey was at least a little better than the atrocity heading their way.
“Stay back!” He heard Mom shout. And while Badd’s nerves stuttered at the commanding voice, the monster that had caught up with them only laughed, if the grating sound could even be called that.
“Where did the little ones go?” The monster asked, sneering like those kids who laughed at his hair. “I was hoping for an after-dinner mint!”
Mom didn’t say anything. Badd heard a loud thwack and peeked between the trashcans to see the follow through of what could only be his mom swinging his bat at the monster! The monster snarled, its teeth yellowed and mouth oozing spit, but Mom didn’t stop. She turned and swung again, hitting the monster in the mouth and shattering some teeth!
Badd nearly cheered for his mom, just as she did when he hit a home run today, but remembered the look on her face when she told them to hide. Not wanting to be grounded, he obeyed her rules and bit the cheer onto his tongue.
The monster opened its mouth and roared at Mom, who kept swinging. This time it side stepped the bat and swung its own massive arm at her. The arm, more like a tree trunk than a body part, met Mom’s chest and sent her into the wall opposite to where Badd and Zenko crouched behind the trash. Badd winced when his mom hit the brick and his heart pounded when she struggled to stand. The monster stepped towards her and Mom brandished his bat again.
“No,” he gasped when the monster caught the bat with his teeth and snapped it in half. Zenko, spurred by either his words or the sound, tried to turn around, but Badd quickly pressed her face back into his shirt. She squirmed in his grip, which he tightened around her, and would have shouted if Badd hadn’t covered her mouth with his hand.
She didn’t need to see.
She didn’t need to see the monster grab Mom and lift her up.
She didn’t need to see the monster open its massive mouth.
She didn’t need to see the monster bite Mom into two pieces.
She didn’t need to see the monster drop what was left.
She didn’t need to see the monster continue down the narrow street.
But there was nothing he could do to keep her from hearing it.
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The funeral was plain.
There was a man in a suit that Badd didn’t recognize. He said that it was common in this day and age of monsters and heroes to have everything taken care of well before retirement. He said that it was a good thing his parents were so prudent in their decisions.
Badd punched him in the gut.
Mom and Dad had family. But, to Badd’s understanding, they weren’t family anymore. Something about hairstyles and music got in the way. He didn’t really get it, but then again, he wasn’t a grown-up.
His principal called him the day after the funeral, said that he wanted to speak to his guardian. Badd stayed on the line and the principal told him that he and Zenko didn’t have to go to school for the week. It was a nice offer, but Badd didn’t really want to stay in the house any longer than he had to.
Two days after the funeral, Badd woke up extra early to make breakfast and pack lunches. He woke Zenko up and helped pick a dress for her to wear. He suggested the light pink with her shiny black shoes. While Zenko ate, Badd stared at himself in the mirror. Clothes weren’t hard, red shirt and jeans, but it was the final –most important—part of his outfit that made his head swim with indecision.
He dug his hands into the grease and moved to his hair. The first rake of fingers through his locks seemed larger than his hands and more steady. He snapped his hands down, onto the counter, and kept his face down, afraid he’d see Dad behind him if he looked up. Head down, he tried again but stopped when his stomach started to swirl, and his knees shook. His eyes grew hot and his vision swam before him.
The clatter of his sister’s plates in the sink made him blink and his eyesight came back a bit as the tears escaped. Snot started to follow, no matter how many times he sniffed, but his shirt sleeve easily took care of the mess on his face. He couldn’t do it. Not today. He was too weak.
“Think you can wait that long?”
Badd felt like there wasn’t enough air to breathe. He couldn’t put up his hair then, so he had waited. He’d waited then. He could wait now.
“There’s no rush.” He said, washing the grease off his hands and the tear stains off his face. He exited the bathroom and got ready to walk his sister to daycare on his way to school.
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Badd didn’t have to wait as long this time. Three days later, he walked into class with his hair meticulously greased up and socked the mouth of the first kid who gave him lip about it.