Chapter Two: For Miss Ichiki- Can I Interest You In Some Tea?
The camera shut off along with the lights, the entire area going back to a semi-dark color. The hero stood up, bowed to the reporter, then made her descent back down to ground level. His final question still rang in her ears.
"Will you be the next Symbol of Peace?" The girl asked herself in her mind. She sighed, patted her cheeks, and snapped out of her depressive state. The elevator dinged, and she retreated back into the same room as before to change. She pulled on her blouse when she was interrupted by a voice from the other side of the curtain.
"Fuji, announcements."
"Ah, Saru, go ahead."
"Well, your boss called. He says that he wants to pay you a proper congratulations on the title when you go in next week. You have an appointment for yearly quirk counseling tomorrow at noon at the Plaza. Finally, we got the letter back from U.A.-"
The girl dashed out fully clothed from behind the curtain. "What'd they say?"
"You're on campus as soon as school starts."
"Great. That'll be wonderful." The hero looked at the announcer, her agent, and friend. She was a thin woman with long black hair, but with such a level of professionalism you couldn't help but act respectful.
"Honestly, I don't know where I'd be without you, Saru."
"Exactly. And make sure you keep calling me Saru, not that Nakamuri-Sensei bullshit you were spouting earlier."
"Alright, alright." The hero took her costume and went towards the front door. Her agent handed her a paper cup with warm brown liquid in it, before leaving and saying, "See you next week, Fuji."
"Yes, you will." The hero walked toward the main entrance, sipping the amber tea from the cup. She left the building and got in her car, the black interior already heating up the car in the heat.
"Iced Tea, two sugar packets, exactly fifteen cubes of ice. She knows me well." The girl started up the car, and with a jolt, she backed up and started back on the main road. She drove past a few streets in urban Japan, store windows stocked with books, food or clothes, until she came to one special shop and parked. The sign above read "Tekianu Coffee." She walked in the glass door, and a little bell rang to signal her arrival. The shop was empty, save a couple sitting at a table in front of the glass window sipping boba. In front of the hero was a little marble counter and blackboards scribbled on with curly handwriting. An older man was sitting behind the cash register on the far end, counting money, but he looked up at her as she approached.
"Oh, Ichiki-San. What can I get for you today? The usual?"
"I'm afraid not, sir, I'm not here for me today. I'm visiting a friend. Can I please get two cream cheese danishes and a kilimanjaro roast to go?"
"Sure. Just a sec." The man put the pastries from a display case and put them in a paper bag, then got a paper cup and filled it with coffee. The girl pulled out some money to pay.
"That will be 1450 yen. Thank you, and see you later!"
The girl grabbed her purchases and smiled. Back in her car, she put the stuff in the passenger seat and moved back into oncoming traffic. She drove back onto the main road, passing by the tall skyscrapers and small buildings, traffic stopping and starting. Finally, the traffic came to a complete stop, cars honking and weaving around others. The girl sighed.
"I guess this is Tokyo for you. I wonder if anything's on the radio?" She turned the knob on her stereo, right as a song ended. The advertisements rolled for a little as cars still honked, and as traffic began to move again, a report started.
"And now for 'This Week in History.' As many of you know, this week will be the fortieth year anniversary of when the 'Luminescent Baby' was born in Qing, China, the event that directed the entire world's attention to quirks. Since that time, almost ninety five percent of the world's population has accumulated some sort of uncanny ability, that number increasing by fifteen percent in the last five years. In these last five years, four heroes have risen and fallen from the number one hero spot, the newest of these being the pro hero, Hekainsatsu. In the last five years, Japan's crime rate has increased by 14 percent; many people hope that Hekainsatsu's positive influence will bring down crime rates as a new dawn approaches-" The girl immediately changed the station to quell her oncoming anxiety. She neared the coast, eventually crossing into a suburb with quiet streets and little houses all in a row. Children played outside, playing hopscotch as the girl pulled into the driveway of one of the houses near where the street dead- ended.
The house had a brown garage with a white car parked inside, the license plate brand new. The house has brown steps leading up to the front door, with a bamboo fence and Karesansui Garden surrounding the remaining lawn. The girl grabbed the goods from her car, locked her doors, opened the gate to the fence and then knocked on the front door. After a moment, it was answered by a young woman in an apron. She had short brown hair and was only a bit taller than the girl outside. She looked really tired, purple bags laid under her eyes and her face streaked with worry.
"Akiho, it's the middle of Saturday. You should be home with your son-" Suddenly a big, booming cackle sounded from somewhere inside the house, followed by something fragile falling with a crash. The woman looked towards the origin of the noise, then gestured for the guest to come in. The hero entered into the familiar house, decorated minimalistically with the walls covered in off-white wallpaper. The seaside view still swayed out through a window, and the old puffy couch still stood in the middle of the room, just as outplaced as she remembered it. Another cackle sounded from the left room, followed by a warning from a woman's voice.
"Sorahiko-San, if you don't take your medication-" Another fragile thing broke. The hero finished taking off her shoes, then stepped into the scene of the crime. Heavy metal pots and broken porcelain plates lay scattered all over the linoleum floor, the woman from before on her knees sweeping up the shards. Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, the girl saw a shape dart towards her from the top corner of the room. Reacting, she dropped the pastries and coffee, unharmed, and caught the projectile.
"Where are his pills?" She asked, the projectile struggling to get away. The caretaker handed the hero several pills of different sizes and the girl shoved them in the mouth of the projectile. The projectile swallowed, and immediately calmed down. The hero held onto the projectile for a moment, and then set it in a chair by the kitchen table. The projectile was a very old man, whom was short, had grey hair and brown eyes that were shut. He closed his eyes, drifting into a state of relaxation. The caretaker looked on in amazement.
"Thank you so much, Fujinuma-San, you know how he gets."
"It's fine, I'm the one that should be thanking you. Go ahead and go home, I'll stay with him today."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, go ahead. In fact, take this coffee with you as an apology from me."
"Thank you so much." The caretaker grabbed the drink and left promptly. The hero smiled after her, then turned her attention to the sleeping man. He stirred a little in his sleep, and she pulled back his disheveled hair from his face. She looked at him not with a anger or sadness, but with tender, warm eyes. The man continued to sleep. The girl looked at the pill bottle which the caregiver had gotten the medicine from earlier.
"Take twice daily by mouth to suppress anxiety and panic caused by PTSD and/or dimentic disorders."
The girl set the bottle by the sink with the rest of the medication, then she picked up all of the broken plates. The man still slept soundly. The hero then moved into the living room, cleaning up the clutter and straightening out the pillows on the couch. The bedroom came after the living room, and was covered in red wallpaper. A window let natural light stream in over the bed, and stretched onto a cabinet of glass. Inside, a yellow costume sat, covered in dust and worn down on the joints. The wall was decorated with newspaper clippings of heroic deeds and fan-letters of gratitude. The girl smiled with happiness at each thank you. The man coughed in the other room. The girl rushed to be by his side. She saw him stir in his sleep, and pressed her hand against his head to check for fever. He awoke and glanced at her, puzzled.
"Who are you?" He asked tiredly, pressing a hand to her cheek. She leaned into his touch, and after a moment of confusion, the person's identity became clear to him.
"Hello, brat."
"Hello, Old Man."
The girl stood up, and the man did too. He sighed.
"I had another episode, didn't I?"
The girl nodded. "Gave the caregiver quite a scare too." She helped him stand and walk out onto the little veranda, where two little wicker chairs overlooked the ocean. The man settled down into one with some help, then the girl went and got the pastries and joined him.
"They were out of taiyaki, so I got danishes instead." She handed one to him, grabbed one for herself, then the two clunked the pastries together and ate in silence. The ocean crashed against the beach, and seagulls cried above.
"I'm sorry, brat. I can't remember anything. I'm always making trouble for you."
"Don't apologize, we all have memories that we can't forget. You probably have a lot of reasons to act the way you do." She took another bite.
"Just promise me you'll take those horse pills from now on so I don't have to come over and babysit your ass."
"Fine." The man and the girl both chuckled and finished off the last few crumbs of the dessert.
"So, does the great Gran Torino want to know what I did today?"