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High above an Unknown city, there stood a statue of an Unknown Hero. He was gilded with leaves of gold, his eyes were inlaid with the clearest diamonds and a ruby adorned his sword hilt. He stood, day in and day out, quietly watching over the city.
People passing by often stopped to admire him, although not for too long for their neck would begin to ache from craning their heads up and their eyes would grow tired from squinting against the sunlight and they would mutter under their breath about how impractical having a statue that high up was. Shops sold overpriced replicas of the Unknown Hero, poorly made with cheap materials. "Rhinestones for eyes," groused a passing arts history student running late for class. "No appreciation for the importance placed onto the use of diamonds," and made a mental note to include that in their essay which they forgot by the end of the day.
"Look, mama! He’s so shiny, even his head is shiny!" A boy exclaimed, tugging on his mother's skirt.
"Hush, it's rude to point," said the mother, dragging the boy away, even as she stifled a giggle, for she had always though the Unknown Hero looked rather ridiculous being so bald.
"If only I were a hero, then my love would love me back," sighed a dreamer, kicking the column vindictively. He cursed when it didn't fall.
"When we grow up, we want to be a hero," said the children to their teacher. The teacher, who was rather tired of chasing and shouting for little children and who hated field trips with every ounce of his being, scolded them, "There are no more monsters to fight, no more evil to slay. Being a hero would be a waste of time, you should become something more practical like a doctor or a lawyer.”
“We want to be heroes!”
“You’ll starve,” said the teacher who hoped the parents would not complain to the school for bringing them on a field trip to see the Unknown Hero.
One evening, a kite flew by the statue. All his friends had migrated to Egypt but he had lingered behind to locate and speak to the wise old dormouse that lived in the church steeple on the outskirts of the city. The dormouse had information on the eagle-owl who had killed the kite’s family and was willing to exchange it on the basis that Genos would not attack any of his relatives for the rest of his life.
“Genos, if it happened as you say, it’s been months, you shouldn’t dwell too much on the matter,” the dormouse, advised. “It isn’t your place to question how Nature works. Eagle-owls are your natural predators.”
“He shouldn’t have been there, we were only visiting. They didn’t deserve to die by his talons,” the kite, Genos let out a piercing shriek of rage but the dormouse barely flinched, it had lived a long, fruitful life and the kite seemed more interested in his vengeful venture than acquiring a meal.
“Well, if you are to go after him, you should know that he is headed south for the winter.”
“Then I will follow him.”
“You should anyway for the frost is coming and even you will not survive. Now, it is getting late and you should find someplace to roost,” said the dormouse, who was rather kind. “Tonight, I will begin my winter long sleep.”
“Thank you for your advice,” the kite bowed low and deep, his wings outstretched. “I will return in the spring and report to you the outcome of my search.” With that, he flew off, searching for a decent place to put up for the night.
After a while, he saw a shining beacon of light in the distance and flew towards it. He was surprised to find that the light came from the reflection of the setting sun on the bald head of a statue perched up above the city. “This will do well,” he said to himself. “The cape will provide a nice shelter from the wind and the view is ideal for surveillance.” Then he settled down between the feet of the Unknown Hero, but just as he was about to close his eyes and rest, a large drop of water fell on his head.
“What on earth?” He thought, flying away in surprise. He looked about, the sky was clear and filled with stars and the moon shone bright upon the city. There was not a raincloud in sight. Puzzled, he returned to his perch and settled down, until a second drop fell on his head. “I thought this area was properly sheltered,” he thought. “But it looks like there’s a leak somewhere. I should find someplace else.” But before he could fly off, a third drop fell on his head and he looked up in annoyance.
“What-” but the words died on his tongue for the Unknown Hero was shedding tears, all over the kite. He flew up to the statue and asked, “Who are you?”
“I am the Unknown Hero,” came the reply.
“You don’t have a name?”
“Eh, not really but my hero name isn’t that great.”
“I see. Why are you crying? Are you perhaps leaking?”
“Not really,” the Unknown Hero said. “I can’t really control it. See, when I was alive, I was really strong. I could defeat monsters and evil beings with one punch. But I became too strong and I ceased feeling any sense of fear or joy or sorrow. Nothing moved me even though I continued to defeat monsters and protect the city, I felt nothing. When I died, they erected a statue of me to honour my deeds, but now that I’m up here, I can see that for all my heroics, I’ve failed to make a difference. People still suffer at the hands of poverty and disease. So I can’t help it, the crying just happens.”
“How did they make a man into a statue?” The kite thought, but he didn’t say anything.
“You see that light over there?” The statue continued. “In that room there lives a young man. Though there are no more monsters, he knows there are still people to save and evil to be stopped and he’s an aspiring hero like I once was but not nearly as strong. That’s not due to lack of effort, on the contrary he tries his very best even though he knows that he is no match for his foes. He isn’t afraid to step up to the plate when the situation calls for it. But he broke his leg in a recent fight and he doesn’t have the money to pay for his medical fees. If his leg doesn’t heal properly, he won’t be able to walk properly and the world will lose one more hero. He hasn’t given up but you can see that he’s struggling so hard. Kite, do you think you could take this sword and give it to him? It’s not that heavy because it’s purely ornamental and I’d go but my feet are fastened to this pedestal.”
“I am chasing my foe,” the kite replied. “Five months ago, my family was attacked and killed by a dangerous eagle-owl. I am the only one who remains and I must journey south to track him down and avenge my family’s death. I have stayed for a few weeks in the city to locate the wise and kind dormouse who lives in the church steeple and he has told me that the eagle-owl has flown south already. By now he must be by the banks of the Nile, looking for his next prey.”
“Kite, do me a favor,” the Hero asked. “Stay a night and be my messenger. I have seen this man make such a difference to the city, a good difference. People are inspired by him to do good.”
“There is evil,” the kite admitted. “But they are that of men, what business is it of mine what men do? I have my own evil and I am not able to slay both.”
The Hero did not say anymore but he looked so lost yet so determined that the kite found his determination very admirable and finally agreed, “I do not know what good it will do, but I will stay a while and be your messenger.”
“Thanks, kite,” said the Hero.
“My name is Genos,” replied the kite, and he plucked the sword from the Hero’s hand and, gripping it tight, flew to the window of the young hero. The young man had sat by the fire to warm himself, but wasn’t able to move to the bed before he began to feel drowsy and dozed off, feet outstretched towards the fire. But the fire had begun to die down and the man began to shiver.
The kite propped the sword against the chair and picked up some sticks by the fire and threw them into the fireplace. Then he fanned the flames with his wings so that it flared up and filled the room with warmth once more. The young man stirred and yawned, accidentally knocking the sword over and it fell to the ground with a clatter. “Oh dear,” he picked up the sword. “A sword, with such a lovely ruby! I’m sure the doctor and his wife will appreciate it, they’ve done so much for me already it’s high time I repaid him for his kindness.”
Then he used the sword as a crutch to hobble over to his bed.
The kite lingered for a moment to observe this from outside the window, and then flew back to the statue. “Strange,” he told the Hero. “I have been cold with rage for a great many days now, but now I am quite warm.”
“You did good,” the Hero explained. “So you feel good.”
“I understand,” the kite replied, not quite understanding. He spent the night pondering this statement and by morning, he had barely slept.
The next day, the kite enquired around and gained more information as to the eagle-owl’s whereabouts including an estimation of his weaknesses. All day he concocted a battle plan in his mind and simulated it by calling in a favor with the crows. “Faster!” he called out. “Stronger! I must beat him!”
“You are too strong,” they replied. “You will beat us for sure, save it for him.” The kite left, dissatisfied.
At night he returned to the statue to pay his respects, “Thank you for providing me with shelter, but I will be setting off for Egypt.”
“Ki- er, Genos, was it? Couldn’t you stay one more night?” The statue asked.
“Each day the eagle-owl grows further from my grasp,” the kite replied impatiently. “By now he should be swooping about the pyramids, targeting the unsuspecting lizards that dart up and down the walls, tracking across murals that stretch from floor to ceiling.”
“Genos, you see that glint in the distance? There lives a lady and her older sister. They are both seamstresses but the older sister is more talented and belittles her younger sister who grows more wretched by the day. Dark is the heart of man that is shadowed by those they love,” at this the statue fell silent for a moment. Then, just as suddenly, he perked up, “But she’s still incredibly talented and I think she’d do well if she got the chance. She’s working on a dress right now for a very important client, but she lacks confidence and resources.”
“I will wait one more night,” the kite said, for he had a good heart. “Shall I take her another sword?”
“I’ve only got my fists and I doubt you can detach those,” the Hero managed to look as if it was shrugging although it was quite still. “Take my eye instead, it’s made of diamond and I think costs a lot.”
“Sensei! I couldn’t do that!” The kite exclaimed and wept.
“Sure you can,” the Hero said gently.
“I-I, alright,” the kite conceded and plucked out the Hero’s left eye and flew away to the house where the two sisters lived. As he flew off, he heard a muffled, “wait, did he just call me ‘sensei’?”
He alighted upon the windowsill of the younger sister’s room and saw that she was fully engrossed in her work, embroidering an intricate pattern of flowers upon a silver gown, the petals lined with beads. The work was tedious and time-consuming and had worn her slender hands rough and red and put a look of frustration upon her fine features. “I don’t see what sort of talent sensei sees in this woman,” the kite thought. “But if he believes she is good, she must be good.”
With that, he set the diamond on the table behind the lady and tapped on the window frame. The lady spun around and her eyes lit upon the diamond on the table. “How wonderful! It must have been left by an admirer. I will get it examined and patent this design so none shall make it but me. Then, sis will have to acknowledge me.”
The kite flew back to the statue who looked as if it’d shrugged again, “At least she’s happy.”
“And that is what matters?”
“Yeah.”
The kite had a thought, “Were you ever happy?”
The Unknown Hero did not answer.
In the morning, the kite surveyed the town, preying on stray rodents, but staying clear of the dormouse’s relatives as per his agreement. “What an odd sighting,” declared a passing bird fanatic. “A kite, in winter!”
“Indeed, where do you suppose his string went?” remarked his friend who received a frosty look and burst out laughing.
He returned to the Hero at night, “Sensei, I have come to say goodbye.”
“Genos, can’t you stay another night?”
“It is winter, and the eagle-owl expands his territory still. He flies over the sand dunes and the rodents are too afraid to greet the moon. He sweeps over the fields and the frogs may not croak. I must leave you sensei, but you have taught me many valuable lessons. I will not forget you, and in the spring, I will return, having conquered the evil eagle-owl and bring you a sword with a ruby redder than the irises on the banks of the Nile and a diamond clearer than the waters that flow from the mountains.”
“In the city centre,” the Hero said. “There is a boy who lacks courage. He wants to become the man everyone says he is but he does not have the means of doing so. Look, he’s pissed himself again.” Sure enough, the gangly-limbed fierce looking boy had wet his trousers in fear and shock after a group of bullies had run off when they realized who they were trying to intimidate. “He needs to get a job. Take my other eye and give it to him and he will use it to buy new clothes and get some proper qualifications to get a job.”
“I will help you for one more night,” said the kite. “But I can’t take your other eye. You will be blind.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“Sensei, you are asking of me something very difficult.”
“Please, Genos.”
So the kite plucked out the Hero’s other eye and swooped down to drop it into the hand of the boy who stood staring at it dumbly. “I could do so much with this,” he whispered. “I could buy medicine and food for my mother.” He ran home as quick as he could, the diamond jammed into his pocket.
The kite returned to the statue. After a long while, he spoke, “You are blind now, sensei.”
“Guess so,” the Hero whispered.
The moon rose high in the sky and the wind blew cruelly and bitterly through the city. The kite huddled against the statue for warmth, tucking his head into any nook he could find. “You have to leave, Genos,” the Hero said. “You have to fly south for the winter.”
The kite shook his head. “No, sensei. You are blind, so I will stay with you always.”
“Genos, you can’t, you have to go!”
The kite shook his head once more, although he knew the Hero could not see him, his voice was firm and clear, “I will stay with you always.”
When the morning sun rose, the kite perched on the Hero’s shoulder and told him tales of his adventures. Where his search had took him, the creatures he had met of varying shapes and sizes, and in return the Hero described the monsters he defeated. They were of such size and power that the kite could not believe the Hero managed to defeat them all in one punch, yet he had no doubt that his teacher was as powerful as his heart.
“It’s made of lead,” the Hero explained. “They ran out of the metal they used to make me. I’ve always thought it was fitting for a guy like me. To have a leaden heart, that is.”
“Why would you say that? You are the kindest, most generous man I know,” the kite said, “you must know this!” Then he wept and the statue could not comfort the kite no matter what he said.
As the air became chilled by the night, the Hero asked the kite, “Genos, what’s going on down there? Fly around and tell me what you see.”
The kite flew around the city, darting through alleys and over bridges. In the shadows, the lame and the sickly, trembling and weary; in the gutters, the children played games using dirt clods and pretended they were having lavish feasts; while in the warm mansions, the rich people indulged in rich food and rich clothes and shut their doors tight so not a sliver of warmth could creep out.
The kite returned to the statue to report what he had seen.
“Well, there’s always going to be poverty, but unlike before, when I was just as poor as them, now I can actually do something about it. Genos, could you peel off this gold from my body and distribute it among the city?”
The kite started, “I, how could I do that? You would be quite bare!”
“It doesn’t really suit me anyway,” the Hero said.
So the kite peeled off the gold that coated the Hero, leaf by leaf, and distributed it among the poor. Through the biting frost, there rose cries of laughter and joy and food shared through the city whose streets flared to life for a brief night. The kite returned to the Hero and perched on his shoulder.
“You did good, Genos, thanks.” Before, the kite would have preened, but he simply huddled closer to the statue and nodded.
When the snow came, the roofs became lined with sheets of white while the snow that landed on the streets was churned to slush under the trampling of people. The kite became quite cold and took to flapping his wings to keep warm. His voice was no longer a clear crystal tone, but quavered and shook like a leaf. He was not concerned, however, for his own well-being, and ask the statue daily, “Sensei, how are you doing?”
“I’m alright,” the Hero would reply.
“Are you sure? Without your sword and your clothes, you are quite bare.”
“Well, I feel more comfortable like this anyway. When I was alive, I never really liked to dress up, and I definitely never used a sword, I always used my fists. They just wanted to make me seem more noble.”
“You are already the most noble creature I have ever known.”
“There’s no need to butter me up.”
Through the days, the kite learned, with mounting alarm, that despite his great contributions, the Hero had led a very lonely existence, “You saved the city so many times, even from threats they didn’t know existed. Why does no one know who you are?”
“Nobody cared to find out or remember, that’s why they call me the Unknown Hero.”
“What is your name?”
“I don’t really remember. Anyway, a man’s name isn’t all that important when he’s dead. Even if you call it, no one will reply.” He was shunned and ridiculed, having to live on the outskirts as a hermit. Despite that, he gave his life for his cause, saving people and helping them.
However, the citizens merely complained that they would need to find a new hero. Even erecting a statue of him was more for their sake than his since they did not even remember who he was.
After the Hero had told the kite all this, he leaned against the Hero’s temple and wept. His tears ran down the Hero’s cheek. He said, “I wish I could have been born a man who could stand beside you, so that you would never be lonely.”
The Hero was touched, but concerned for the kite’s tears, “I’ll be a little lonely when you’re gone, but you’ll be back, won’t you?”
The kite did not reply, and instead asked, “If you ever told me your name, I would call it all the time.”
The Hero’s laugh was rich and brassy and the kite basked in it, warmth filling his body that was chilled by winter, “Sure, Genos. I’d be honoured.”
Time passed, and though the moon chased the sun through the sky for warmth, winter had become a permanent fixture in the city and the kite grew colder and colder until one day, he said to the Hero, “Goodbye, sensei, you have taught me a lot, but the time has come for me to leave. If you would be kind enough to allow me, I would like to kiss you.”
The Hero breathed a sigh of relief, “I’m glad you’re going, Genos. I’ve kept you here long enough. Good luck on your journey. You may kiss me, though I am curious as to why you would want to.”
“It is not to Egypt that I go,” the kite said uneasily. “I am travelling much father, but I am not afraid, sensei. With you, I fear nothing, because I love you.”
Then he kissed the Hero on the lips and fell down dead at his feet. The moment the body of the kite touched the ground, there was a cracking sound, like ice. No one heard it, or if they did, they thought it was the ice in the river expanding.
When the sun peeked over the city, it was dismayed to see the Unknown Hero standing dully above the city instead of reflecting its glorious rays like it always had. The townsfolk were dismayed too and signed a petition to have the statue removed. “It’s become an eyesore,” they remarked. “Besides, the replicas in the shops bring in enough revenue, even the cheap remakes are worth more than that junk in the sky.”
One artist looked out his window and frowned, “Was the statue supposed to be expressionless? But his face has upon it the ugliest look of all, regret.” Then he consulted his previous drawings but could not find any which did not reflect this and thought he must have been drinking too much.
They took down the statue and the lover felt vindicated and the children pouted but no one wanted to be an eyesore like the statue so they kept silent. Then they melted down the statue and made guns, but strangely, the entire batch would not fire bullets and remained inert and useless until they were melted again and made into common household items like frying pans.
When the workers combed through the ashes, they were perplexed to find two pieces of strangely shaped lead that refused to melt and threw it out where it landed in the bin next to the body of a bird of prey. In time, both forms turned to dust and were lost to the sands of time.
Many years later, a boy with eyes as yellow as the gold that once gilded the statue of the Unknown Hero and a man whose bald head glinted in the sun met on the smoldering remains of an unnamed city. “Please tell me your name!”
“It’s Saitama.”
“Take me as your disciple, Saitama!”
“Sure. Wait, what?”
And they lived side by side, forever more.