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“Welcome!”
The Collector Manikin smiled placidly as an Oni burst into his shop with a roar. The Manikins huddled behind him screamed and cowered, ducking behind the piles of junk—er, merchandise littering the shop.
“Oh n-no, they’ve found us!”
“It’s all over! We’re gonna die!”
“Oh no oh no oh no oh no…!”
“It’ll be fine, guys, relax,” the Collector reassured his compatriots. He flapped an overly-long sleeve at them. “Don’t let some low-level mook work you up into a tizzy!”
“How can you say something like that? The Mantra, or the Yosuga, or—whatever! They’ve found our hiding spot!” One of the other Manikins, Placemat, cried in horror. “We can’t fight and we can’t run! We’re completely screwed, dude!” The other two nodded in frantic agreement.
“Hey, who’re you calling a low-level mook?!” The Oni interrupted, outraged.
“You,” the Collector replied simply, smile still firmly in place. The jaws of the other three Manikins dropped at his audacity.
Thick veins popped into view on the Oni’s forehead as his face creased into a most fearsome glower. “You insolent little mud puppet! You think you can get away with making fun of me like that?”
“Yup,” he said, popping the ‘p’. He stuck a finger in his ear, idly scratching at an itch.
“What are you doing?!” 104 hissed at him. “Stop taunting the very pissed-off Oni!”
“Yeah!” Placemat chipped in. “Are you trying to incite him to even more violence?”
The Collector snorted inelegantly. “Why’re you guys so worried? It’s not like being polite will make Mr. Oni here kill us less dead. He’s gonna kill us one way or another so what’s the point in trying to appease him?”
“You should listen to your friends, little Manikin,” snarled the Oni, brandishing his club in a threatening fashion. “I could smash in your tiny head with no effort at all.”
“Oh noooooo, I’m sooooo scared,” drawled the Collector, examining the bit of earwax on his finger. He blew on it, sending it flying into the Oni’s face. “Look, are you gonna buy something or not? If you aren’t, I would suggest that you leave and bother someone else. I have stuff to do.”
“Oh gods, why did I have to choose the worst place in the world to hide?” Giraffe moaned, dragging her hands down her face. “Why did I have to end up in the same place as a suicidal idiot?”
“Hey,” the Collector protested mildly. “I’m not an idiot!”
“But you don’t deny the suicidal part?!” Giraffe demanded.
“I mean, I’m not suicidal either, but I feel that the slight against my intelligence takes precedence.”
“You have got to be kidding me!"
“I’m just saying, that wasn’t very nice—"
The Oni howled, apparently having gotten sick of being ignored. He raised his club, clearing intent on making good on his earlier threat—only to pull up short as he met sudden, invisible resistance. His club hovered a foot away from the Collector’s face, unable to move any further forward. “W-what?!”
“Heh.” A shit-eating grin spread across the Collector’s face.
The Oni brought the club down again, only to fail to connect with the Collector’s squishy noggin. Confused, he slammed both club and fist into the unseen barrier again and again and again, to no avail. Dust shook free from the ceiling, showering the Manikins and the Oni, but the seemingly unbreakable barrier held firm.
“How…how are you doing that?” 104 asked, awed, eyes wide.
The Collector shrugged. “I’m not doing anything.”
“What do you mean, you’re not doing anything?” The Manikins watched as the Oni came to a brief halt, chest heaving. They had never seen a demon look so confused before. “Look at that! He can’t even touch you! You’re definitely using some kinda magic, aren’t you?”
“It’s not me. You know I can’t cast magic for beans.”
“YOU! How are you doing this?!” The Oni demanded, jabbing a finger at the Manikins. 104, Placemat, and Giraffe meeped in distress and trembled behind their fearless companion. “Why can’t I hit you?!”
“I’unno.” The Collector shrugged again, raising both hands in the air. “A perk of being a shopkeeper, I guess.”
“…What.” The Oni stared at him, momentarily dumbfounded.
“Y’see, you can’t hurt me while I’m in my shop. I’m pretty much invincible here, so long as I stay behind the counter.” He knocked on the table acting as the counter over which he conducted business.
“That flimsy thing? We’ll see how much it protects you when I break it!” So saying, the Oni swung his club at the counter, but found it just as unbreakable as the mysterious barrier protecting the space around the Collector’s head. He growled in frustration, making to jump over the counter instead—only to suddenly find himself back where he started. The same occurred when he tried to skirt around the edges of the counter, knocking over several piles of merchandise as he did so. Baffled, he shouted, “WHAT IS GOING ON?!”
“No damaging store property!” The Collector sing-songed. He cackled as the Oni attempted to flip the table and ended up falling over instead when the table failed to move. “You still don’t get it, do you? There’s no fighting within store premises, period. Neither the shopkeeper, the fixtures, nor the room itself can be damaged!”
“That…that’s impossible!” The Oni roared. “You’re just a mud puppet! How can this be?!”
Giraffe leaned in, whispering, “Is that true?”
“Mm-hm! That is the complete, unvarnished truth.” The Collector folded his arms, smirking in triumph. “I’m untouchable.”
“Wait, but what about us?” 104 interjected. “We’re not shopkeepers, nor are we part of the physical space of the store itself. Why can’t he hurt us?” A large piece of debris struck the air above and to the left of the Collector, momentum vanishing in an instant.
“Oh, that’s ‘cause you guys are my merchandise.” The three Manikins eyeballed him incredulously.
“Wait, what?” Placemat sputtered. “We’re your—how does—why—what?!”
“You’re currently classified as items for sale in my shop. No outside forces can affect you until someone buys you guys from me,” he quickly waved his hands as his friends immediately began to protest this revelation, “But I’m not gonna sell you! You’re not for sale!”
“We’d better not be!” Giraffe shouted.
“Is that how it is?” The Oni slammed a handful of Macca onto the counter. “How about this, then? I buy these losers off of you and I’ll get out of your hair, huh?”
The Collector Manikin planted his hands on his hips, frowning. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? They’re not for sale!”
The Oni pulled out more Macca, adding it to the pile. “How about this?”
“That—This isn’t an attempt to drive up the price!” The Collector pushed the Macca back towards the Oni. “No sale!”
The demon pushed back. “I’m a customer! I want to buy them! You have to take my money!”
“No, I don’t! I have the right to refuse sales!”
“Says who? Isn’t your sole purpose to sell shit to other people?”
“Yeah, to people that aren’t assholes!”
“Who’re you callin’ an asshole, asshole?!”
“You, you dumbass!”
“Excuse me?!”
“You heard me! Dumbass! Shithead! Poop-for-brains!”
“What’re you, three?!”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am!”
“What’s a three-year-old doing running a store?”
“Who said I was three years old? There aren’t even years anymore, moron!”’
The other three Manikins watched as the pile of Macca slid back and forth over the counter. After several rounds of this, the Collector huffed, turning his back on the Oni.
“The shop is now closed! Please leave!”
“What, giving up already?” The Oni taunted.
“Yes, because I have better things to do than try to explain a simple concept to you!”
Stymied, the Oni said, “Let’s see how brave you are when I come back with reinforcements!” He stomped off, slamming the door shut behind him. Silence range in the now empty space.
“…Is it…is it over?” Placemat asked after a time, hesitant. “Are we safe?”
“I…think so, yeah,” 104 said wonderingly. He abruptly burst into laughter. “We’re alive! We survived!”
“We did, we did!” Giraffe bounced in place, overcome with a rush of relief and giddy joy. She grabbed the Collector by the shoulders, shaking him. “You saved us!”
“I—didn’t—do---anything—really!” Each word lurched out of his mouth as Giraffe throttled him in her excitement. He swatted at her hands, shaking her off. “No, seriously, I didn’t do anything special. I just took advantage of my unique status in this world, that’s all. Besides, it’s not like I was able to save everyone. There wasn’t time to get all of the others before those fuckers attacked us.”
The other three quickly sobered at the mention of their fellows, who had likely been unable to escape the massacre outside their safe spot.
“You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. How many of the others managed to find somewhere to hide or escaped, do you think?”
Placemat gnawed at his lip, shoulders slumping. “Probably not a lot. There were quite a few of us at Mifunashiro. If those bastards managed to find their way there, then…”
The Collector nodded sadly. “They probably don’t stand a chance.” He straightened. “Well, let’s just hope that Futomimi can manage to get away at least. He’s the most important of us all. In the meantime, however—” He moved to the back of the store, pressing a hidden panel in the wall. A section of the wall slid back, revealing the ‘backroom’ of the shop. Multiple worried faces peered out at him. 104, Placemat, and Giraffe once again found their jaws dropping in shock.
“We heard a commotion. Is everything alright?” Dai asked, sticking his head out of the backroom to peer into the shop.
“Yeah, just a little argument, nothing to worry about,” reassured the Collector. “Is everyone okay in there?”
“It’s a bit cramped, but nothing that we can’t deal with,” responded Dai. He waved at the other three standing behind the shopkeeper. “Oh, hey. Glad to see that you guys made it.”
104 blinked. “Did he save all of you before we were attacked?”
“He did. Just ran around Asakusa grabbing everyone he could as soon as word got to us that the Mantra, or whatever they’re calling themselves now, were coming. Who knew that being a shopkeeper would be the thing that ended up rescuing us all?” Dai chuckled.
“And you all thought I was nuts for doing this.” The Collector took a moment to be smug. “I’m pretty sure that Cha-ching over on the main street managed to grab a few people too before shit hit the fan.”
“Cha-ching the other shopkeeper? Over by the Cathedral of Shadows?” Giraffe questioned.
“Yup, him. He’s the one that told me about this whole invincibility thing, y’know. If he hadn’t told me, I don’t think that I’d ever have figured out that we shopkeepers can’t be harmed in our shops.”
“Huh. Well, how about that.” Placemat hummed, thinking. “Still, we’re kinda stuck here, aren’t we? If we leave, we’re not going to be protected by whatever magic is keeping us safe.”
“That’s true. We’re basically sitting ducks here. Thankfully, I managed to trade the Demi-fiend for something really good the last time he passed by.” The Collector squeezed past the Manikins crammed into the backroom and dug around the shelves for a bit. He held up a metal case, which opened to reveal a bunch of—
“Spoons?”
“Yep! These are our tickets out of here!” He pulled aside a curtain covering the far-back wall, revealing the beginnings of a tunnel. Holding the box out, he said, “Now, let’s get digging, shall we?”