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Yapool looked up at the sky and sighed. Forecasters had said that it would be a clear night, and they were probably correct, except that good old light pollution made it almost impossible to tell the difference. Autumn had come again; Yapool shivered, pulling his cardigan tighter around his shoulders. Why did he always insist on rooftops?
“Why do you always insist on rooftops?”
Yapool’s equally spiky-looking compatriot didn’t even turn around to acknowledge him. Yapool huffed before joining him at the railing.
“…I like the view.”
“People watching, eh?” Yapool said with a smile, “How very like you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing, nothing, relax, no need to get your hackles raised.” Yapool said, slowly backing out of the range of a possible backhand, “It’s just… well, in spite of my very good efforts to make your suit look as threatening as possible whilst also keeping that corpse you call a body functional, you still somehow manage to soften the image somewhat. I mean, honestly, Bemular, you are my most difficult customer.”
“More difficult than Seiji Hokuto?” Bemular asked.
“I said customer, not charge-come-customer,” Yapool said, shaking his head. He looked over to find that Bemular found that comment less amusing.
“You’re still not thrilled about-“
“No.”
“He’s twelve years old, Bemular! Twelve-year-olds need hobbies! You’re welcome to step in as his father figure if you’re not happy with my services.” Yapool grumbled.
Bemular paused, hands tightening on the railing. “I am not in a position to give any guidance. At least, not currently.”
Yapool scoffed. “What, with your current hobby of harassing Hayata’s kid?” Upon hearing the sound of the railing crack a little under Bemular’s grip, he took another half-step back.
After a brief moment, Bemular sighed.
“Shinjiro is improving at a faster rate than even I had hoped,” he said, “At least, in terms of his physical ability. Despite my best efforts, I’m not sure even I can prepare him for the emotional challenges he will have to face in the future.”
“I mean. You could. Very easily.”
“How?”
“Talk to him?!” Yapool said incredulously. “You know as well as I do that nobody’s ever completely ready for this sort of thing, but if you at least warn him-”
“Warn him how? It’s not as if he has any reason to trust me as of now.”
“I wonder why,” Yapool muttered.
Bemular ignored him, tightening his grip on the railing once again. “Besides, even if he did trust me, I wouldn’t consider myself in a position to be a… role model, being as I am right now.” He looked down at the clawed hands of his suit as if he was trying to see through them.
Silence passed between the two aliens.
“You’re wrong, by the way.”
Bemular looked at Yapool with surprise. He went to retort, but Yapool just held up a hand.
“Just listen to me for once! Do you honestly think you’ve changed that much? Because from my point of view, you’re barely keeping up the facade of an antagonistic mass-murderer.” Yapool motioned to the view beneath them, “Concern for Seiji aside, you people-watch, you’re keeping tabs on the alien girl and her new caretaker, hell, you’re helping in his investigations for crying out loud!” He pointed a carapace-covered finger in Bemular’s direction, “And you can claim all you like that this ‘training’ of Shinjiro is simply to help you get revenge against the Star Cluster Council, but, personally, it seems more like you’re worried about him. If you were just focused on your own personal revenge, you certainly wouldn’t be worried about whether he trusts you.”
Yapool sighed, deflated, resting his arms over the railing. He didn’t dare look to see how his outburst landed. He just stared into the dark grey haze of the starless sky in silence.
“I’m… not sure I’m needed anymore, Yapool.”
It was the most vulnerable Yapool had ever heard him. He risked a glance over to see Belumar staring down at the busy streets below, clearly not looking at anything in particular. He was starting to break the railing now, though he didn’t seem to notice.
“What’s wrong? The world could always use another Ultraman.”
“The world already does. And even though they are Earth-made, they’re rising to the challenge of protecting this planet admirably.” Bemular said, with a proudness creeping in that did not escape Yapool’s notice.
“Helped in part by your ‘training’, no?” Yapool replied.
Bemular gave a hollow laugh in response. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m being too overbearing. Perhaps Shinjiro would have developed with or without my help.” He seemed to deflate at that, head sinking into his shoulders.
Another silence.
“Do you see the streetlights, Bemular?” Yapool asked.
Bemular turned to him quizzically. Yapool ignored the look and continued.
“Wonderful invention, that. Of course, it’s a standard anywhere in the universe, but it’s practically revolutionised life here.” He gave a sweeping hand across the cityscape, “Now people can work longer hours, go out after dark, no matter the time of year, productivity and recreation have increased immeasurably!”
“Get to the point.”
Yapool held up a finger with a knowing smile. “But have you noticed something?” Upon receiving silence as an answer, he said: “Earthians have not spurned the Sun.”
“…I don’t-”
“Despite these Earth-made inventions that, for all intents and purposes, could very easily replace the light the Sun gives each day, they don’t. Why? Because they don’t need to. Why replace something that’s been doing the same job with just as much, if not more, consistency than the alternative? Much easier to simply tack on the Earth-made invention to enhance each day-night cycle, instead of trying to overwrite it. Besides, unlike lights and lamps, which can go out once and never come on again,” Yapool looked eastward, where the very edge of the horizon seemed to be turning a lighter shade of grey, “even if the Sun disappears, you’re guaranteed to see it again come dawn.”
“The Sun has other important properties aside from providing light. For starters-”
“Yes yes, I know, my metaphor’s not airtight, thank you for pointing that out, Professor,” Yapool said with a dismissive wave, “But don’t pretend that you don’t understand what I’m saying. If the Earth-made Ultramen stumble — and they will — who’s going to help them back up?”
“They’ll have the strength to get up on their own,” Bemular said.
“Well, yes, of course, but should they have to? What I’m saying, Bemular, is that there is a… shall we say… niche for you that no one else can inhabit. And I’d dare say that it’s a very important one.” He turned to Bemular with a serious expression, “Let me be clear: I do not think that the story between the people of Earth and the people of the Land of Light is over. And I think you’re kidding yourself if you think it is.”
Bemular sized up Yapool for a second, seemingly considering his words. He then silently turned back towards the railing. Yapool decided to take that as a sign to take his leave.
“Besides, at some point you’re going to need to leave that corpse you keep piloting around!” He called behind him as he headed towards the door to the stairwell. As Yapool reached for the doorknob, he stopped.
“And you do know that you will have to drop that name at some point, ‘Bemular’” he said more gently. Looking back over to the railings, however, Yapool found that his compatriot was nowhere to be seen. He huffed before opening the door and making his way back down.
“He better have taken some of my advice,” Yapool muttered to himself, “Because I refuse to keep on upgrading his suit to become less like an armour and more like a life-support system.”
———
“Hokuto, are you sure we should be doing this right now? The Z-Ton Core could attack again at any minute!”
“Relax, Rena, it’s fine~” Hokuto replied, “Besides, I promised Yoko I’d take her to this place, and I’ve got a real funny feeling that this’ll be the last opportunity I’ll get in a while.”
“Still, if something were to happen…” Shinjiro mused as the three of them hurried down the corridors of the SSSP base.
Hokuto sighed loudly, “Oh come on, Shinjiro, not you too! It’ll be fine! If any of those big ugly guys show up again, we can just summon our suits and jump into the fray, no problem!”
“If you say so…” Shinjiro said, unconvinced. They continued on, Shinjiro in thought whilst Rena quizzed Hokuto on the restaurant in question (apparently she’d never been there before, much to Hokuto’s overdramatic shock). Shinjiro phased out their conversation, still focused on the show Damned put on just 15 minutes prior. Not that he was scared or anything, no. Not anymore. He had far too much to lose, far too many things that he wanted that he would let a cowardly show of power like that bother him. It’s just… well, while he was certainly enjoying the feeling of his newfound purpose, there was still a part of him who felt like the path ahead of him was only illuminated by a tiny penlight. The tiny, tiny part of him that was still just Shinjiro Hayata, 16-year-old school-kid. And while he’d like to dismiss that part of himself, he’d also be lying if he wanted a little more clarity in how to move forward. Because ‘move fast, break things’ simply didn’t feel like the way to go anymore. But Shinjiro still wasn’t entirely sure how else to move forward when it felt like time was slipping through his fingers. Or whether he could stop breaking things.
Just as the group were passing by the entrance to yet another corridor, Shinjiro stopped.
“Oi, Shinjiro, what’s up?” Hokuto called, “Cmon, we gotta get a move on, I don’t wanna keep Yoko waiting, y’know?”
“You guys go on ahead, I’ll catch up,” Shinjiro said, not taking his eyes off a slightly ajar door halfway down the corridor.
Hokuto gave a dramatic sigh and shrugged. “Okay then, but you better be quick. This place gets full pretty quickly in the morning on the weekend, so if we lose our table, I’m gonna be mad.”
“Alright alright, I get it, I’ll be quick,” Shinjiro replied with a dismissive wave. He started to make his way down the other corridor, as Hokuto’s excited descriptions of the menu to Rena faded away. He reached the door and gently opened it, despite knowing that he wasn’t really disturbing anyone in there. He walked in, glancing over to the left side of the room. There, on a table in a side room with a viewing window, was Bemular’s corpse. And, above the wires going into the core of his suit, floated something that to the untrained eye looked like nothing more than a penlight.
The Beta Capsule.
A sign that Bemular wasn’t as dead as he seemed.
Granted, Shinjiro wasn’t exactly sure how aware Bemular was in his current penlight state, but he felt like he needed to talk to someone, at least. His dad was out of the question; he was busy, and he didn’t really want to worry Rena and the others either. Moroboshi was also busy with an ‘interrogation’, and even if he wasn’t, there was no way that Shinjiro was going to talk to him about his worries. Not that he didn’t trust Moroboshi’s advice or anything, it’s just that… well… even if they were on much better terms now, the SSSP’s resident sword-wielder could be a little… blunt.
So that just left the guy who was probably one of the biggest reasons his life was the way it was now. And he can’t even hold a proper conversation.
Ah well. Nothing ventured…
“Hey, uh… Bemular.” Shinjiro said nervously. The Beta Capsule hung in place in reply, its light gently illuminating the room. Shinjiro vigorously shook his head in an attempt to pull himself together.
“Look, uh, I know this is probably a little weird, but I was wondering if I could get some advice? Maybe? I know you can’t really talk in your, uh, current state, but…” Shinjiro trailed off. This was so stupid. But he was here, and he was already keeping the others waiting, so…
“How did you… How do you, y’know, cope?” Shinjiro asked, before giving an embarrassed laugh, “I mean, like, when you think about what comes after, y’know? Because I know what I’ve gotta do now, obviously, that’s a no-brainer, but…” He trailed off again.
“There’s just a part of me that’s still stuck in the past. And I’m worried that once this is all over, that part of me is going to want to go back to the way things were, and they can’t. And I don’t want them to! I don’t want to have gone through all of this only for everything to go back to exactly how it was before! And… and I know that sounds selfish, but… I guess I may be a little scared about how I would cope, if that were to happen.”
Shinjiro looked over at the capsule again. While its light hadn’t changed, Shinjiro could almost feel something pushing at the edges of his consciousness. Though he wasn’t sure if that was simply him coming off of his post-Damned adrenaline high.
“I think… I mean, I’m pretty sure that things’ll be different. But then what if they’re not different enough? Or they’re different in a way that I’m not ready for? I feel like I’ve changed so much over such a short time, both physically and mentally, that I’m not sure how many more changes I’ve got in me, y’know?”
Now Shinjiro was sure something was pushing up against his mind. It didn’t feel odd, though: it felt more like someone was putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Even though he knew that there was no one physically there, Shinjiro still felt compelled to put his hand up to his shoulder in acknowledgement.
He took a deep breath.
“I know. I’ll be fine. Not every change has to be as drastic as the ones I’ve had, right?” He laughed, “I just… I dunno, I just… I’m kind of sick of constantly having to sacrifice things, y’know? Or people I care about having to sacrifice things.” He threw his hands up in the air, “No more pyrrhic victories! I’m sick of them! I just want a good, clean win, you know?”
Shinjiro sighed. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… it’d be nice to have you with us, once this is all over. Or sooner, actually!” He motioned to the door, “Because I’m gonna be honest, I have no idea what Damned and the Z-Ton Core are planning, but I feel like we’d be in a much better position with as many people as we can get!” He paused. “…Plus, I dunno, it would be kinda nice to fight alongside you. And I mean properly, this time. Not as Bemular, but as-”
Suddenly, Shinjiro’s phone buzzed. Making an apologetic face to, well, nobody in particular, he quickly pulled it out of his back pocket. Ah. It was Hokuto.
whats taking so long?????
if we end up not getting a table I will never forgive you
Shinjiro rolled his eyes with a smile.
Alright alright I’m coming geez
It’s only been like 3 minutes calm down lol
I will b calm once we get there
dont make me drag you there myself istg
He was really pressed about this, huh?
“Ughhhhhh, can’t I just get 5 minutes to myself?” Shinjiro huffed, putting his phone back into his pocket, “Sorry about this, but looks like I gotta go, or somebody is apparently going to lose it.” He turned to go, but stopped. Was that… laughter? He looked around, despite knowing that there was nobody else in the room, and his eyes fell back on the Beta Capsule, which, suspiciously, did seem to be glowing brighter than before.
“Are you… Are you laughing at me?” Shinjiro pouted. As if in response, Shinjiro heard more laughter quietly reverberate in the back of his mind. He huffed, walking towards the door, before dramatically turning back around in the doorway.
“Alright then. For that,” he said, pointing at the Beta Capsule glowing brightly above Bemular’s corpse, “You gotta join in on the next fight. I don’t know how, and I don’t care, you just gotta, alright?” He nodded, satisfied that his instruction had been received (even if he couldn’t really tell), and then turned to leave. However, just as he was passing the threshold into the corridor, Shinjiro sensed something pressing up against his consciousness. It was a sensation not too dissimilar to placing a hand on the wall of a dam, where you swear you could feel the strength of the thousands of gallons of water straining behind the metres of concrete. A very complicated sensation that held a very simple message:
I’m not done yet.
Shinjiro smiled, quietly closing the door behind him. He power-walked back up the corridor to where he had left the others, and, upon finding that they were no longer there, realised that they were probably waiting (impatiently, in one person’s case) for him outside. As Shinjiro made his way through the maze of corridors, he suddenly realised that the haze that had settled in his mind not 10 minutes prior had seemingly lifted. He smiled to himself, placing one grateful hand to his chest. Who needs a penlight to see the way forward when you have the Sun on your back?
— — —
The first thing he sensed was a klaxon piercing through the silence.
The second, a familiar, ancient consciousness of a beast he had once thought was dead.
The third, two in tandem: panic and fear, the emotions of the SSSP personnel slamming into his consciousness like a stormy sea against a cliff-face.
Very clever, Damned. Strike right at the heart of those who oppose you. How typical.
He pushed his senses outward as the room around him began to buckle. He knew his destination was several metres below him, but Gomora’s summoning would ironically make its access that bit easier. Though, he only had seconds to pull off his plan.
He gathered up all that remained of his soul and left the corpse that had been his refuge for the past 7 years. Now an orb of light, he quickly flew downwards, passing through the debris as they fell, towards his soul’s new home.
Shinjiro’s old suit. Designation: Type B. A hand-me-down, in the literal sense, but hardly obsolete. Quickly, he fused himself with the suit as the building shuddered under the weight of the ancient kaiju, feeling more of his strength return to him as his soul resonated with the suit’s Specium reserves. And not a moment too soon: rubble collapsed around him, trapping him underneath the SSSP headquarters.
Temporarily.
After making sure the suit was working as he expected, he forced his way upwards, breaking through the metres of rubble onto the familiar Tokyo streets.
As the corpse of Bemular lay buried, an old light once thought extinguished rose into the morning sky.