Ushered between the stripes of tigers wild
Added tags for this chapter: interiorised sexism from journalists, racism from teenagers, mentions of violence and death (anonymous citizens) and high-school bullying (not very explicit).
The fifth time is so mundane and unpredictable it takes Barnaby entirely by surprise.
He's come to pick her up from the Academy for the weekend, and has been waiting in the car, parked a few streets over as not to draw attention, trying to find a way to stop Kotetsu from shuffling his songs when they drive. Their new and shared SUV, this overpriced, overequipped treacherous thing, isn't helping.
He's been at it for ten minutes already and isn't getting anywhere. Frankly, it's a bit vexing. He's been muttering under his breath, accusing the downing lights, the setting sun dusking the control panels, but it's in bad faith. There's backlighting on everything in this damned car. Even the ignition. Their chasers, which are the most backlighted things Barnaby's ever laid eyes on, do not even have the option.
And his ego's slowly getting ruffled, here. After the week he's just lived, he would have loved a victory of some sorts. Even over a car.
He's spent years dealing with Saito's tech, even understood some of it. He should be able to program the freaking stereo of a freaking civil car.
But he isn't.
So far, he's managed to save two radio stations, disrupt the sound balance between all five speakers, and add his phone to the list of dangerous devices never to be accepted as a musical source.
The only small mercy the universe seems to grant him is that Kotetsu isn't here to mock him or, more probably, contribute to the chaos and make the stereo unusable for good.
He's halfway into rummaging in his pockets to find his multi-tool and use the skills he developed those last four months studying mechanics and robotics to try and strip down the integrity of the system when the truck opens, then slams.
The car viciously beeps its disagreement and Barnaby starts. So does the radio.
"And you did it!" a well-known voice shouts from the speakers.
I most definitely did not, Barnaby grinds back interiorly while fumbling with the sound. There. Back to regular hearing tones.
He landed on OBC's channel, which is currently broadcasting Nathan and Keith's latest interview. At least the sound's still working, he thinks bitterly, listening to his friends' voices coming very harmoniously from the build-in amplifier he was scared he completely messed up with his earlier toying.
The car shakes, beeps again, and a blue indicator lights up on the dashboard. Barnaby's almost sure it's supposed to be a more refined, designed and classy version of a trunk, but it's closer in looks to an overgrown leg on a stick man. He doesn't even have time to turn back and appraise what's happening in the back with his own two eyes that the annoying beep comes back and the light goes off.
This car doesn't make any damn sense. And he can't even blame Kotetsu. The SUV was his pick.
"What on…" he begins, then the door opens and Kaede lands on his right, throwing her bag over her shoulder on the back seat.
"Sorry about the trunk", she says, "I'm still not used to it."
He smiles at her. It's Friday evening, but she's still wearing the tracksuit version of her white and blue uniform. It hasn't changed one bit since Barnaby's time in the Academy.
He remembers wearing it.
Remembers how it felt on his shoulders.
The truth is, it didn't feel life an achievement. It felt like a step closer to the truth, like a new mile walked in his terrible and (almost) self-imposed way of the cross. For him, the uniform never really was a victory, it never meant he belonged to something. It felt cheap, and unsatisfactory, because it hadn't been the hero suit he was promised, the hero suit that was his magical key to resolving everything and getting him back his life.
Oh, how gullible he had been, then.
And how far it all seems, now.
Barnaby nearly sighs.
Either Kotetsu's nostalgic stance is rubbing off on him, or he's really getting older.
Because on Kaede, the uniform looks like it was always meant to go on her shoulders. On her, it looks like a victory, an achievement, a promise.
She's deserving of it in ways Barnaby never was.
He turns in his seat and looks at her. She seems tired, not fully on her plate, and her face is a bit red, but maybe this is just Barnaby's imagination. Or maybe they had to do a lot of outdoor exercises this week and she ended up gaining some colours. If Mr Damysos really still is alive and kicking, and in charge of the general training of the NEXTs in the Ac like he was in Barnaby's time, he can definitely understand the tiredness. The man was convinced pain built strength, the sun helped muscles work, and that November-chill was actually good for your running lungs. Barnaby, who swore only by these guidelines a decade ago, has mixed water with wine since joining the heroes and working with actual teenagers.
"Don't worry, I'm not used to it either", he smiles, turning off the radio completely and cutting Nate mid-sentence. "I've been trying to program the music for ten minutes, and I still can't figure it out."
"I thought you studied mechanics now."
"I am, on my spare time".
Which he doesn't get a lot, but. He is. The idea actually stemmed from Ryan, who asked him one day why he never pursued his parents' research when he learnt that Barnaby also had a degree in Electrical and Electronic Engineering. The answer, quite predicably, and wasn't that sad, was that he had religiously listened to Maverick.
But since Ryan asked, the idea never really left him. So Barnaby reactivated his account in the SB Public Library, borrowed a few books so heavy that Kotetsu still uses them as weights to flatten his shirts when he's feeling too lazy to get the ironing board out of its closet, and subtly began asking Saito a lot of questions.
It had taken roughly three hours for their mechanic to bust him out, and now, Barnaby has a weekly appointment with him to learn everything about robotics.
He doesn't know where this will lead him, yet, and isn't really sure he needs to.
It just feels nice, and rewarding, to learn things for themselves. Just out of curiosity, interest, and without ulterior motives like revenge or gaining the upper hand on a enemy.
Barnaby's world feels way easier, way better, these days.
"And a car is resisting you?" Kaede asks, one eyebrow raised.
"It's a very smart car."
"Mh-hm".
There's a smile toying in her voice, so Barnaby allows himself to relax. He must have been wrong. She looks fine now, and she must feel okay as well, if she's in a good enough mood to mock him.
The teasing had surprised him, at first, many years ago when they began spending regular time together. Because for a young girl that Kotetsu had always portrayed as "completely enraptured with you", he expected a bit more fascination and a bit less poking.
It took him an awful long time to understand that this is who she is, cheeky and funny and even mischievous when provoked.
Because with him, she's a bit different. She's particularly facetious, sometimes even more so than she is with her father, and Barnaby, after many hours of considerations and even some talks with his therapist, concluded that this was probably her way of getting her revenge on her disillusions with the BBJ she expected. He cannot blame her, really. He's boringly ordinary and sometime very far from the heroic picture the magazines are adamant on painting. He's probably light-years away from who she wanted him to be. And if her only retribution is bugging him a little? Big deal.
He'll suffer it gladly, because there is affection in the teasing.
There always has been, just like there has been fondness and care in Kotetsu's meddling habits since the Jake incident. Maybe even before that, in his partner's case. Because Kotetsu's love language has been toying with his nerves from the very beginning. Even now, after seven years of partnership and five years as a couple, they haven't stop bickering, haven't stopped taunting each other or trying to get the other to pull out of the comeback match by declaring himself outsmarted.
Barnaby hopes they will never stop.
So, he got used to his feathers being ruffled, by Kotetsu first, then by Kaede. Kaburagis, he learnt, began mocking you when they really appreciated you. These days, even Anju is starting to enter the game. Last time they visited Oriental Town, she tried to expend his knowledge in plants to her botanical garden, and didn't mince her words when he began mistreating her carrots and radishes. (He didn't know, alright? He can repot a plant, singular, any time and with great skill, but had no idea how to plant seeds for a whole freaking line of vegetables.)
She called him her little carrot-head for three whole days.
Kotetsu, who'd been laughing so much he managed to get the hiccup when he heard his mother call to him to help for dinner with this ridiculous epithet, had changed his contact picture in his phone to an actual bunny eating a giant carrot with huge and sparkling eyes the very same evening. Anju, God bless her, stopped mocking him after a few days. Kotetsu, on the contrary? Barnaby knows he will never let him live this down.
And what is it with Kaburagis and rabbit imagery anyway?
But for all his complaints, there's a part of Barnaby that actually likes the challenge, the little barbs and witticisms, that now feels like a game he can play at his full potential, knowing the rules and players.
He doesn't have to look very far to know who taught Kaede to be this cheeky and teasing, though. Because if Kotetsu's meddling, quite the busybody and if his puns are the very definition of a dad-joke sometimes, his daughter's remarks are actually a lot more cutting and sharp. And… Barnaby's to blame, because he's the one who set a bad example, who laughed at her jokes and snickered each time she toyed with her father, outwitted him or answered to his puns with a raised eyebrow and some comments about his age.
He dug his own grave, there. And he now rests in it, quite content with himself.
There must be something very wrong with him.
Because the grave doesn't feel like a grave. It feels nice, cosy, domestic, and his.
It feels like a nest.
"Ready? Got everything?" he asks, hand on the ignition, forcing himself out of his thoughts.
"Yep."
The "p" pops on her lips like a bubble gum explodes. Barnaby starts the car, gets out of his perfect parallel parking manoeuvre, see Kotetsu, it is possible to park perfectly with the PAS, you're just old, and gets out of the lane.
Of course she's fine. Why wouldn't she be? He's reading too much into it.
A few minutes of silence later, she fumbles with her phone, stretches to grab her bag and rummages in it for the longest time possible, rattling and messing all her stuff. They've reached Hephaestus Station Plaza when she pests under her breath: "I forgot those damn headphones in the dorm", she admits, sounding defeated. "Can I put on some music on the stereo?"
"Of course", Barnaby smiles, already resigning himself to forty-five minutes of indie rock or catchy pop. He's getting better with music, alright? Expanding his tastes, trying to understand the appeal of everything that isn't opera or classical pieces.
And frankly? Sometimes he'd rather deal with Kaede's overenthusiastic boys' bands than Kotetsu's CDs from the 50ies or, worse, his old jazz records that seem to have developed their own sense of rhythm and skip and wobble without prompting. By comparison, his daughter's obsessions are at least bearable.
He knows he's making a song and dancing about it, here.
And isn't that ironical.
Because Kotetsu's jazz and blues records are more than fine when the vinyl doesn't skip, when they're alone in the flat, surrendered by the familiar smell of a homemade dinner, and when his partner's feeling playful or flirtatious enough that he pushes Barnaby to dance.
But what would they become, if Barnaby stopped complaining? Kotetsu would have to stop forcing him to change his mind, and Barnaby may not get invited to so many musical evenings.
He definitely cannot risk it.
He tried, once, to turn the tide a bit and get Kotetsu to slow-dance to his favourite opera duet.
He backed off of Barnaby's arms two minutes in, eyes misty and eyebrows furrowed. How he managed to fully understand the lyrics on the first go remains a mystery, but he's also been able to figure out each and every one of Saito's hushed words for years, so. Barnaby isn't that surprised he can actually follow the exchange between a soprano and a bass singer.
"Wait, and then she really died? Again?"
"Yes."
"Because he glanced back?"
"Yes."
"And he couldn't save her?"
"No."
"That's horrible."
In retrospect, he should have seen it coming, knowing Kotetsu's over-reaching empathy and personal experience with grief and loss. Maybe he's a bit to blame, here.
Anyway. His point was that he can gladly suffer through Kaede's music.
They've reached the fast lane when she tries to synchronise her phone with the car. Barnaby must have done something wrong with his earlier toying though, discovered a new species of mistake unknown to mankind, because it doesn't work, and the car abruptly protests by beeping profusely.
At his right, Kaede starts with the first striking noise. Barnaby can sympathise.
"Why is it shouting at me? I just tried to put on some music!"
Maybe this car will find its place quickly with them, Barnaby thinks, suddenly. It appears as pig-headed and obtuse as they all are. What a pick he made, there.
"That's probably my fault", he apologises, "I kinda… lost my temper with it earlier."
He cannot exactly try to repair the damage now, though. It's 6PM on a Friday night, the streets are crowded and he needs to pay attention to the road. He's pretty sure Kaede won't miss this opportunity to laugh at him; after all, Barnaby's just handed it to her on a silver plate…
"Can I just put on the radio, then?"
His eyebrows raise. No snarky retort? No teasing?
"Help yourself."
He steals a quick glance at her while she's got her gaze fixed on the stereo. Twilight's painting lines of amber and vermillion on the concrete, and the setting sun's getting in her eyes, making them appear almost golden. But there's a sadness in her posture, between her brows, in the curve of her lips maybe, he doesn't know exactly, but he can feel it. It's there, and now that he's seen it, it's colouring the whole passenger compartment.
Maybe something did happen.
But what? He wonders. What could it be? And is it really a sadness he's seeing here, more than just ordinary exhaustion? If he asks her, there's a high probability she's going to tell him off, and his chance to understand will be lost.
The backlighting on his dashboard interrupts Barnaby's thoughts by joyfully informing him that his passenger pushed a button.
The radio turns on.
They land back directly on OBC's channel. Kaede doesn't change it, and Barnaby's surprise and suspicion that something is indeed wrong continues to grow. Usually, when she comes back for the weekend, she likes to distance herself a bit from hero stuff. He's not going to stop her or say anything, though: if she's feeling like listening to their friends on the radio, why would he say no?
Sadly, Fire Sky's interview is over now, and Mario's late-night show has begun.
For all his respect and personal admiration for Mario's work, Barnaby's not very fond of it. But the rating, Mr Brooks, you wouldn't imagine the ratings we get with such programmes.
Yeah, he does imagine, actually. Two hours spent discussing the heroes personal lives and making jokes that always end up being sexual innuendos, usually at the expense of his female-perceived colleagues and, sometimes, even directed at the rest of the League. Ryan and him remain their favourite targets among the men, though.
So fundamental for the city, for the well-being and protection of the citizens, that all is.
Who would have thought that being a hero meant sitting in front of famous TV hosts and talking seriously about boxer briefs.
Sometimes, he wonders if Hero TV even realises how absurd it all sounds.
Tonight, Mario's hosting a very impressive bevy of celebrities, ranging from actors to former and actual heroes, to so-called experts that, in Barnaby's experience, are more often hardcore fans than real scientists. One time, during his first year as MVP, they even managed to fish a guy that called himself an academic, claimed body and soul that Pao-Lin's lightning could be used during intercourse, but couldn't even cite one of his sources when asked about electrical currents and intensities. Of course he couldn't. They were forum discussions. And, most likely, personal fantasies. Over a child.
Thank God Pao-Lin was forbidden to listen to it at the time.
He clenches his teeth. If Kaede wants to listen to it, they'll listen to it.
At least ten minutes. He's ready to give her ten minutes, or three stupid remarks, before turning it off.
They're currently commenting on Hero TV's latest live episode, though, so Barnaby doesn't bear much hope. Passing another car, he tries to no avail to shake the whole incident away from his mind.
It happened on Tuesday morning. All twelve of them had all been training when their PDA rang, and sprung to the old docks in a flash.
The problem had been quite simple; a huge freighter had collided with a pleasure craft a few feet from shore, and both boats were slowly sinking, drifting dangerously close to the beach and its sports complex, taking all their passengers with them and spreading their fuel in Stern Bild's bay.
Needless to say that it didn't go smoothly, because gasoline, fire and undercurrents… Well. They didn't mix well.
The next day, when Agnes came with the official reports, looking grim and wearing all black, she announced them the numbers with a raspy voice, then left immediately. Probably going straight to the hospital.
Forty-seven dead.
Twenty-two seriously injured, still in critical condition in the ER.
Among the victims, a whole class of seventh-graders. They had come on the beach, to the sport complex, to practice for a tournament.
Only three of them will be able to tell the tale.
And Barnaby's been haunted by the flames, by the screams.
He knows he's one of the lucky ones.
Bison and Origami, first on scene, first to respond and first line of defence, have taken the first explosion head-on and are amongst the twenty-two. According to Kotetsu, who had Tonio's surgeon on the line earlier today, their lives are safe and they should be back on the show before the end of the season.
Karina, protected from the worst only by Ryan's amazingly quick shielding reflexes, fell apart in his arms the second the cameras left and then dropped her transporter to walk to the nearest hospital, her bloodied heels in one hand, her partner's shaking fingers in the other. The image is still carved in Barnaby's mind, branded with the hot iron of unspeakable violence.
Lara, bruised and burnt but not seriously enough to necessitate a full hospitalisation, has taken the rest of the week off, and Pao-Lin did too, to stay with her.
Thomas and Subaru are nowhere to be seen. Barnaby at least hopes they're together.
Kotetsu and him, along with Nathan and Keith, are the only ones who got out of the intervention mostly unscathed. At least, Barnaby counts a few bruises and a whole evening of sobbing in his partner's arms as lucky, compared to what his friends had to deal with.
The four of them had been at sea when the first explosion rang out, trying to save the families still sinking on the first boat.
They saw everything, from afar, and wasn't that worse, in a way, to be away from the bay, from the fire, from hell. With no choice but to look at the flames engulfing the rocks, the children, their friends, everything.
Kotetsu had tumbled with the first wave, lost control of his wires for a second, missed his jump, and when they both reached the scene, trying to save their friends, the seventh-graders, someone, anyone, the worst had already happened.
They had been too late.
At least, it hadn't been broadcast live.
Well. Not all of it.
Barnaby doesn't really know what parts they kept or what the general public thought of it, though. He hasn't had the time to watch the episode, and, frankly, doesn't feel very inclined to do so.
Mario's not talking about it, it would seem. So far, the emission's mainly centred on an earlier mission, that had Blue Rose doing one of her famous Cutie Escapes.
Small mercies. At least, for his friends. Because he redirected his guests from talking about the sheer horror of Tuesday… but in doing so, he pushed them towards their favourite topic of conversation: the heroines' sex appeal and dating life.
And right now, Karina's getting her full share.
Barnaby glances at the clock. Alright. Seven more minutes of this before he cuts everything.
"… she sure does argue a lot, doesn't she?"
"Oh, yes, but we do love to see it."
There are crass laughs. That's what you get, he thinks, bitterly, when you fill your set with three rich men who have been bodyguarded their whole life and never stood in front of a riffle, stepped in a wall of fire, or confronted heavily-armed thieves and crooks wearing only a thin layer of cloth and nothing else.
"Well, I personally think she's quite justified".
And thank God for Sumo Thunder. Barnaby cannot understand why the Second Leaguer keeps accepting those invitations. Their contract clearly stipulates that they have to do one TV appearance a fortnight. One. And believe him there, one sure is enough.
At least, Sumo's defending Rose. "I mean, you've seen her outfit. She doesn't wear anything on her tights and shoulders, no wonder she flees every time someone opens fire on her… And no wonder Ryan ends up shielding her, either."
"Ah, but you can't ask our beloved Blue Rose not to be a bit of a diva, or not to dress like one! What would we be, if she were to wear the same armour as her partner? What's more, I know for a fact that a lot of fans do love seeing Ryan protecting her!"
Barnaby can hear the perverted wink that punctuates this sentence.
"That they do! And I'm sure Ryan doesn't mind finding himself with a lapful of our Queen!"
"Ah, who would?"
Barnaby pinches his lips and swallows back the insult that came to his teeth.
Yeah, Blue Rose flees. Or runs behind her partner. Because when Ryan doesn't jump in front of her, she ends up spending a week in the ER. And those men don't want to know about swollen eyes, infected and deformed toes, or cervical aches that turn into chronical pain.
They want the glorious side, not the real one.
They want the idea of Blue Rose, not the human beneath.
Barnaby knows for a fact that Karina has tried for years to make her producers change her outfit. When he debuted, she had already given up trying to get them to cover her chest, but was still negotiating for lower heels and more hip coverage. She never obtained anything, and since the introduction of the Buddy System, since she's developed a chemistry with Ryan so strong that it pierces the screen, the comments have been getting worse.
Her physical aches and pains only grew with time. Her safety? Not an inch.
But sure, let's remember the most amazing GoldenRose moments of this season. What a flock of vultures, they are.
Fortunately, none of them know that Karina and Ryan have actually started turning around each other. Because if they did… That wouldn't compare.
These damned rats.
Lord. Barnaby's really turning into Kotetsu.
Is it a bad thing, though? His mind immediately asks.
"We'd be lost without our Super Sadist Queen's naughty outfit!"
"Nah, maybe you'd finally become freaking decent people", Kaede mutters at his right.
Finally, Barnaby smiles.
There's a part of him who legitimately cannot wait for her to be a hero, who's eager to watch her become the glitch in their well-lubricated machine. Because he knows that if she succeeds in getting a contract, she's going to learn from all of their past mistakes, his and Kotetsu's and Karina's, and she won't let some things slide.
But there's also a part of him genuinely terrified of what those people, those men, could do to her, because he saw what they did to Blue Rose, Dragon Kid and Magical Cat. And all three of them debuted as minors. Kaede, and that's the whole deal, will begin as an adult.
With a bit of luck, Karina, Pao-Lin and Lara will still be on duty when Kaede joins the League.
"At least, she's still going strong! Can't say that about all of our heroes right now… Looking at you, Tiger!"
And he laughs. Barnaby wants to drive back to the studio and strangle him. He doesn't care if he's a very important sponsor. Doesn't care if that might cost the company thousands. He's going to barge into the recording studio and shake some sense into that stupid idea of a man.
"Wild Tiger may have missed his jump on Tuesday's tragedy, but he saved the whole family. He's still got it, and the fans know it."
Thank you, Mario, he thinks, strongly.
At least, someone looks like he's on their side, here.
"Yes, but Mario, no one is immortal, not even Tiger! Don't you think he should step down now, while he still can, before his firm fire him for good this time? He's so lousy as a he-"
Kaede all but slams the button. The radio abruptly stops and silence fills the car.
"Sorry. But it's bullshit."
Barnaby won't contradict her, but, hey, language. He remembers the time when she couldn't even say crap in his presence. It now feels like eons ago.
He sighs, trying to concentrate on the road.
"You know how they get. One rumour, and the latch onto it like leeches", he tempers. After all, he's the adult here. He should be the reasonable one, shouldn't he?
"But is it still a rumour, at this point?"
Barnaby risks a glance in her direction, heart suddenly hammering. He almost runs the stop sign. He hopes his voice isn't quavering when he asks: "What do you mean?"
"He would have told us, right? If he were going to resign?"
Barnaby does not know what to say to that.
The truth is that they are not entirely wrong, because last month, Kotetsu began losing seconds again. He is now at fifty-five left, but when he admitted it to Barnaby, both of them knew what it meant; they had to consider the fact that Kotetsu might lose his powers entirely. And soon.
The sword of Damocles, that they had grown so good at ignoring, became suddenly impossible to deny and now hovers, loud and clear, in the air between them.
It hasn't been the easiest and best weeks of Barnaby's life, even before Tuesday's ordeal.
Their evenings were filled with long and hard conversations about the future, about what it meant to be a hero. Hours and hours were spent exploring paths and ideas, re-reading their contracts and trying to find a way to accommodate what would become their new reality.
So far, only Barnaby knows. Well, Saito too, because he's checking their vitals every second when they suit up, monitoring the duration of their powers and couldn't have been lied to anyway. But they haven't told anyone else. Not Ben, not Antonio or Muramasa for Kotetsu, and not Ryan or Nate for Barnaby.
It still feels way too soon, and the inevitable way too far.
They need time, Kotetsu needs time, to try and figure things out.
Barnaby has tried not to worry Kotetsu with his own insecurities even more, has done his best to support his partner, but before the previous Wednesday, he had struggled a bit with it all.
Because on Wednesday, just after dinner, Kotetsu received a call from Timo Massini. They had been doing the dishes, discussing in hushed tones the pros and cons of telling Ben the next day, when the phone rang. Kotetsu picked it up with his fingers still soapy, and froze immediately.
"Principal Massini? Is Kaede alright? What happened?" he'd nearly shouted, worry so strong in his voice it'd made Barnaby stop in his tracks as well.
It had taken four real minutes to convince Kotetsu that everything was alright, Kaede was fine, and the call had nothing to do with her at all, and everything to do with him.
Timo Massini had heard the rumours, been shaken by Tuesday's events, and decided to drop a proposition on Kotetsu: if he ever decided he wanted to step down from hero work, dwindling powers or not, he could come and bring his legacy to the academy. As an instructor.
A teacher.
Kotetsu had hung up looking sad, his face a strange mix of conflict, relief and grief.
He hasn't said yes.
He hasn't said no, either.
But for Barnaby, it'd been like a lifebelt thrown in the dangerous tempest they were caught on. It's only been three days, but now, he can't stop picturing it. Kotetsu, training the next generation of heroes. Kotetsu, working with children all day, teaching them how to do good, how to be good.
The image feels right in a way he never imagined anything could, beside Tiger in his green armour, next to him on the field.
But Barnaby now has another, even harder problem to solve: where does he fit, in all this?
"You would have told me, right? If Dad was going to resign."
He turns back towards Kaede, who's still watching him from the passenger seat.
There is suspicion laden in her voice now, and Barnaby is glad he cannot really turn his eyes off the road, because if he had to look straight at her, he knows he couldn't exactly say what he's about to. He's not exactly lying, per say. He's just slightly pushing the topic away, gently redirecting it with a well-aimed nudge.
"Kaede. You saw what happened last time they tried to fire him. This is just the media making the most of a rumour."
"It's not just the media, it's the whole fucking school!" she shouts.
It's sudden, loud, and her voice breaks after the curse.
They've arrived at a red light.
Barnaby uses it to look at her. Her face is painted crimson, but it's not just the LED's fault.
"What?"
"They've said that the whole week", she admits, softer, calmer now. "They've…"
She turns towards the window, and falls silent for a full minute. Barnaby does not press, turns right and drives into the roundabout.
"They've begun saying it again", she whispers to the city lights when they're out of the mangle of vehicles and honking that is the Silver Medaille at 18:37. "They've begun turning on him again. One week you're both saving people and he's the greatest, and I have the coolest dad, and the next his wires miss, children die and he's back to lame and I'm going to be as lousy as him, apparently."
Barnaby nearly misses his turn. There is anger in her voice, but he isn't fooled: underneath, it's pain, and way too rough. She heard this before.
"Who said that?"
"No one, everyone, it's not important. I'm used to people talking shit about him, it's alright, that's the game, isn't it?"
"Kaede…"
"Sorry, Barnaby. Didn't want to spring this on you, too. Must be hard enough to deal with on a daily basis, and I can't imagine what it's been like these last few days."
It's been hell. And Barnaby's lived the aftermath of Jake's attacks, of the Maverick's and Schneider's scandals. But somehow, failing was always the thing he couldn't really recover from. At least, not alone, and not with reporters more concerned about Kotetsu's failings than the death of a whole fucking class of kids, coming at him trying to get the scoop of the season, sponsors breathing down his neck, and Lloyds' glare that definitely meant 'don't you go and keep things from me again'.
He knows, he knows that they're putting Kotetsu's mistake centre stage to make people forget that the city lost a whole class of its children, of its future, but still.
They're not the ones living in the eye of the storm.
"It's not the easiest thing", he concedes, "neither for you, nor me. And it's unfair, it's bullshit, but you're not alone in it, that's why I'd rather you tell me when those things happen".
If she still choses to become a hero, it will become her daily life, and Barnaby feels strangely sad thinking about it.
How could he wish this for her? How could he accept without batting an eye that one day, she will put her life on the line, and that everyone will feel entitled with her image, her body, and dreams? How could he wish for her the week he's just lived?
"This is the part of the job that we'd rather do without. It's the part you cannot face alone, because otherwise, it may cost you too much."
"Like friends?"
That sounded a bit too heartbroken for a general comment. He hesitates, images of so-called friends dancing in his mind, of boarding school roommates, of interested parties he thought he could count on, lost over the years.
Yeah. Sincerity is a rare bird when your name's plastered on billboards and when people think they can gain money, exposure or other favours by rubbing elbows with you at dinner parties.
"Yes", he admits, maybe more sincerely than he'd expected. "Friends."
There's a sniff at his right. He risks a glance towards her, and shit, there are tears slowly flowing on her cheeks, painting her face in blue and white with the dancing city lights.
Barnaby gravely underestimated the matter, here.
"Kaede…"
"Sorry, sorry", she mumbles, trying to reign herself in, to wipe away the tears, but it would seem that now that she's been caught, she cannot hold the façade much longer, and she is slowly crumbling, right here, right there, in the passenger seat.
Fuck.
Barnaby looks back at the road and gets honked at for not moving quickly enough. The muffled sound of her sobs echoes in his ears, and he turns.
He's not going to let her cry her eyes out doing nothing.
He gets out of the main lane, finds a narrow street, then a park with a parking lot beside it. That'll do.
The SUV shakes when he forces it to climb a part of the sidewalk, and Kaede's shaking form plunges forward. The seat belt dives in her bust, but luckily prevents her from going too far on. Not his softest move behind a wheel, but, hey.
He's got a teenager crying on his passenger seat.
Barnaby parks the car, puts on the handbrake, and turns towards her.
She seems to realise that they are out of the street, and now stopped under the trees of a deserted parking lot. The night's nearly fallen, and even if someone passes them by or strolls through the park, they won't be able to see what's going on behind the tainted windows.
"This is stupid, I'm sorry. You didn't have to stop".
He uses the hand that is no longer holding the wheel to bridge the gap between them and squeeze her shoulder. This time, she's the one who initiates the hug, turning left and leaning towards him.
Barnaby catches her.
"It's far from stupid", he whispers into her hair.
The angle's awkward, he cannot really reach her back, and her face is mostly resting on his right collarbone, but it isn't going to stop him.
She blindly reaches for her bag, most likely looking for a tissue. Barnaby beats her to it and hands her the packet he put on the driver's door yesterday after a particularly greasy panini stop.
She dabs at her eyes, blows her nose, and when Barnaby manages to capture her eyes, he asks, as gently as he can: "What really happened, dear?"
Her breath hitches. There's a sigh that turns into a hiccup. Barnaby, who's trying to keep his heart in his ribcage against all the organ's efforts to jump up in his throat, cannot stop himself from reaching out and putting a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
His instinct was right. Something did happen.
He doesn't know what he put his finger on, here, and it's terrifying.
"It was at recess", she admits, voice broken, looking defeated and so depressed that even the blurred lights of the city cannot cover her tiredness. "They were talking about Dad's intervention on Tuesday, and I… I don't know why, but I just lost it."
And the truth spills out.
Barnaby, leaning on the wheel, his left elbow one inch from the horn and his throat feeling like sand, learns about what can only be called an aggression. From five of her schoolmates.
"They began laughing, calling him lame, and I… I snapped. I called them all names, but they laughed even more, saying that I'll just follow in his footsteps if I ever become a hero".
He opens his mouth, ready to say something, anything, to convey both his indignation and his rage, when she adds:
"I'm not popular at all in the academy, you know? I'm not like you, who had a fan club and everything. And it's just… I know that popular kids have a higher chance at getting a contract when they do get into the hero course. And even if I'm Tiger's daughter, even if they could market me this way, I just… Sometimes, I feel dumb. So hearing them say it, it's always…"
There are tears in her voice, infusing each of her words. And Barnaby cannot even say something to her, doesn't know where to begin to comfort her, because he never lived it. Never even tried to fill the shoes of the kids who were put in the dugout during his days. Because he was selfish, blinded by revenge, and couldn't even see people that weren't useful to him.
What he called determination was always closer to negligence.
"And I know it's stupid", she croaks, sobs pervading her voice and making her sentences harder and harder to understand, "but I thought that… with moving in Stern Bild, it would stop people from laughing at me. Because I would finally be among NEXTs, so they couldn't insult me or act like I'm a freak. But now it's this, and it's the jokes about my name, my eyes, about Dad and Oriental Town, and about me as a person, as a hero, and I…"
Her voice breaks on a gurgle. It deals a fatal blow to Barnaby's heart, and he unties his seat belt with trembling fingers, turns completely towards her and pushes her back into his arms.
In front of him, the little park stands deserted, lit only by the crackling light of a street lamp. It's showering the grass in a strange halo of greys and blues.
It all looks quite surreal, when there's a teenager crying on you.
He stops looking at it, closes his eyes and lowers his chin into her hair.
She smells like cafeteria-grease, recalcitrant dandruff, cheap perfume and homemade deodorant, and like the sun itself.
Barnaby loves her.
"I'm tired", she hiccups against his chest.
He bites his lips, trying to find strength in the beating of her heart that he can feel, hammering, against him.
But the truth is, he's never going to be as strong, and brave, and good as she is.
So, this time, he doesn't even try to find the words, and lets his fingers, now tangled in her hair and pressed on her back, speak for him. Maybe they can offer a language better at comfort than he is.
She seems to understand them, anyway.
"What can I do?" he asks, after a while, when they have separated from each other and when Barnaby is sure he can continue the conversation without breaking, too.
"What?" she sniffles, blowing her nose.
"To help you. What can I do, Kaede?"
"I… don't know. I'm sorry. It's not that bad, not that serious, it's-"
"It is, dear."
"Well, it's over, now. I'm glad I'm with you this weekend, I think it'll be good to just be… Just be allowed to be me. And not think about all this shit. But what's done is done. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't really have turned the tide, managed to make them see sense."
"But… What about Tony? Or Saroja? Weren't they with you when this happened?"
Why on earth didn't they defend you? He doesn't say. They're supposed to be her best friends, why didn't they say anything, if not on the moment, afterwards? Why aren't they on her story, in her words, in her mind?
"Saroja's still home, the flu's put her to bed last week. And Tony's expelled for one more day."
Ah. That would explain that.
Tony was actually the main reason he asked. Because he knows Saroja, and her friend's a little bit too shy to talk back to some bullies, and she doesn't want to become a hero, but Tony? Tony would have been livid, and would probably have been expelled again for trying to take her side.
"Did you tell them yet? What happened?"
"No."
"Maybe you should."
She hums. Barnaby isn't really sure what that means, but doesn't push it.
He doesn't know for Saroja, but Tony will probably try to confront her classmates when he'll learn about the incident. So, better telling him now, while he still has the weekend to cool down, than letting him learn everything Monday morning.
From what he heard and what he observed the few times the kid came to their flat, he's got a quick temper. And quite a soft spot for Kaede.
The Tony Barnaby knows would have died before letting anyone talk to her like this.
(He's also becoming a real mini-Wild-Tiger, but that's another matter, one that Barnaby decided he would ignore blissfully up to the day his parents would call Kotetsu to blame the man for his bad influence. He's sure this will happen, because since his partner saved him in the ice rink, the kid's been adamant on becoming a hero. And he's been a real Tiger fan. Barnaby strongly suspects his admiration for Kaede doesn't stem from nothing.)
"And…"
She hesitates. Her cheeks are still pink but there's real hurt in her eyes, so Barnaby waits patiently. "The one who said first that I'll be as lame as Tiger… That was Matthew."
Barnaby feels his eyebrows shot up, and his left elbow slides on the wheel.
It honks.
Loudly.
They both start and so does the poor jogger who had the unfortunate idea to pass by the car and get out of the park this exact instant.
Barnaby apologises profusely, both to the man outside who's making a run for it anyway, and then to Kaede, who's at least smiling a bit at his clumsiness.
"Seriously?" he says after a while. "Matthew? 'Nice and funny-Matthew'? This one?"
She looks away. Her jaw clenches, she gulps and sniffs, obviously trying not to break down again, but this is a battle she loses, because new tears roll down her cheeks.
"Yeah, that one."
"Oh, Kaede, dear…"
They share a look. Or, more accurately, Barnaby sends her a sympathetic gaze and Kaede glares at him like she's trying to gauge exactly what he inferred from the whole situation. It would be a little bit intimidating were she not still crying.
And the answer to her silent question is everything.
And absolutely nothing, because they've been aware of her little crush for months now.
"I'm sorry, Cub, I really am."
"You… knew?"
Barnaby exhales, mentally getting himself ready for this discussion. He's not exactly fond of going in without Kotetsu, but… Hell. They need to stop talking in riddles. He needs to make sure he understands, and make sure she's understood.
"What he meant to you? Of course I knew. I have eyes, and I've begun to know you a bit, these last few years."
And you didn't need to be a genius to understand what it meant that she was always talking about him, remembered what he wore and what he said even weeks afterwards, and that she tried to trade classes to be with him. She hasn't been like this with Saroja or Tony, or anyone else.
So, yeah, both Kotetsu and him had it figured out quite quickly.
"But… You didn't tell Dad?"
"I didn't exactly need to. He knew, too."
"What?! But… But he…"
Hasn't said anything? Yeah, because Barnaby asked him not to stick his nose into it. Just as he asked him not to ask about Tony, who they caught making love-struck eyes at her more than once. He's far from discreet, but Kaede's following her father's footsteps here and being completely oblivious.
Let her live her life, Kotetsu, he'd said, put the boundaries on her relationships herself, make her own mistakes, and meddle in only when she asks you or when her days are threatened.
This isn't the case, it's just an high-school crush. Yes, you married yours. But not everything is doomed to repeat and not everything is set in stone.
It's just an high-school crush, Barnaby had assured his partner.
It's just a shame it had to end like this.
There's a part of Barnaby genuinely upset about the incident. About the racism and the discrimination, obviously, but that's hardly a discovery, because this is a lingering rage he now bears with him since he started listening to what people actually said and did to Kotetsu and, sometimes, Kaede as well. But even about her heartbreak, he strangely feels… disappointed with Matthew. Angry.
He would have liked the kid to be worth her time and feelings.
He expected him to be more than this, frankly.
But he doesn't know this child. Only has what an enraptured and smitten teenager told him for nearly ten months over the weekends.
Still, he's upset.
And that doesn't make any freaking sense.
"And I've… When he said that, and when the others began agreeing, I thought…"
"Yes?" he presses, feeling that they're holding onto something important, here.
"I thought: 'I've touched Lilo last. Their fire is quite strong. I could burn him, just a bit.' I know it's not worthy of a hero in the making, but I… I thought it. And for a moment, I really wanted to hurt him."
She buries her face in her hands. This is shame, Barnaby suddenly understands. From her point of view, she just admitted something horrible.
"Oh, Kaede…"
"I know, this is serious, and I swear I wouldn't have killed him! Please don't rat me out to Massini."
"I won't."
"Does that… Does that make me a bad person? Wanting to fire-punch the guy I liked because he insulted my dad?"
He sighs. "No, it doesn't."
"But it's not hero-like", she whispers, softly, and then adds: "it's not me, either".
Barnaby turns for a while over the city lights. In front of them, the shadow of a woman is walking her dog in the park.
Does she know, he wonders, how vulnerable all heroes are? Or does she look at her screen like they're not really people, more like abstract concepts and ideals of strength and morality, supposed to succeed in everything?
If that is, does she know how wrong she is?
"All heroes are human, you know", he says after a while. "You're not supposed to be perfect, because you're not a robot, not a machine. The fact that you wanted to hurt Matthew doesn't mean you're a bad person. It means you were hurt enough to want reciprocation. But even if you wanted to, you didn't do it, and that's the important part."
She sniffles. Looks at him with a strange look he cannot quite place.
There's a part of him who's afraid to call this faith. Admiration. Trust. Whatever. Love. Because they don't do that, the two of them, telling each other I love you, at least not directly, not face to face. Between them, it's Kaede who sets the pace.
But Barnaby cannot really let this slide, cannot really let her believe she's less than absolutely amazing.
"You could never be a bad person, Cub, because you do know it wouldn't have been you. You said so yourself; this isn't who you are."
She sniffles again then glares at him with this piercing gaze she uses sometimes, which makes her look older and that Kotetsu would probably say reminds him of Tomoe.
"You've felt it too, haven't you? This urge to hurt with your powers?"
The question's shy, but clear enough.
"Yeah, I did", he admits. No point in lying to a kid that saw your failings on live TV. "And I did worse than you, because I actually acted on the impulse."
He nearly strangled Kotetsu on the edge of a building, years and years ago, when revenge coloured everything and he thought that his best lead to Ouroboros had been wiped clean.
"You saw our fight with Jake", he confesses instead, "I almost killed him, that day."
"What… What stopped you?"
He has wondered the same for many months afterwards. What was it, that he saw in Kotetsu's eyes that day, that made him drop the criminal to the floor and prevented him from turning into a murderer himself?
"It wasn't who I am", he smiles, and the gesture is infused with both sadness and certainty.
Because Kotetsu's eyes had been calm, sure, weary… but not worried.
In his eyes, this day, Barnaby saw a version of himself he suddenly wanted to become.
"It wasn't who I wanted to be."
He had had Kotetsu's voice in his head, shouting we're here to save people, whoever they are! You're not judge, jury and executioner, who the fuck do you think you are? You're a hero! We don't get to pick. We're saving everyone, and that's not negotiable!
It had been one of the only times Kotetsu raised his voice like this. At least, that Barnaby remembers.
"That's not who I want to be, either", Kaede rasps.
When their eyes lock, she still looks stricken, tired and sad, but there is now a light in the amber. Something that speaks of the fearless determination he's come to know and love.
"I still need to ask, Kaede… Do you want us to intervene? Contact your teachers, or Massini? At least about the racism? You know how serious this is, right?"
He has no clue on how to approach the situation, frankly. What's the adult thing to do? The appropriate, expected way to deal with this?
"Yes, I know. But I think it'll sort itself out if I don't add fuel to the fire. It's just that… I thought Matthew… I thought he was different."
That, sadly, Barnaby can understand.
"He's not bright, then. At least, not as bright as he could have been, because he doesn't know who he's leaving behind with behaving like a jerk."
"A stupid girl who's not even popular enough to get some signing for the school raffle", she mumbles.
"Hey, don't you dare", he retorts, with maybe a little bit too much authority, because this a bad habit of Kotetsu he won't let her take, "you're the brightest girl I know".
There's a ghost of a smile appearing on her lips, shy, tentative, but definitely there.
Barnaby feels like a king. Scratch being crowned King of Heroes.
This, this feeling, is what pride feels like.
"And they say that, but in the end… You're the one being brought home by a former MVP", he adds, playfully.
"Dad's also a former MVP. And… You're more than that, Barnaby."
There is a sincerity in her voice, something that refuses to take his attempt at a joke.
"I know I often say that it's funny, how far from the BBJ image you really are, but I don't want you to be the BBJ they know. If that makes sense."
Barnaby's heart is going to melt.
He's sure it's possible, because right now, it feels way too hot, way too liquid, for his ribcage.
"I think it does", he whispers.
"And I'm really glad, that's what I mean, to have you in my life. The real you, not the you they think they know."
"Kaede… You know you don't have to-"
"It's just that", she cuts him, "I realised lately that I've never… At least not to your face, because I know I've texted it a few times, but I've never said to you that I love you. So, there. I love you."
And she said it looking straight into his eyes.
Alright, so hearts can melt.
"I'm gonna have to hug you again, you know that?" he whispers, trying not to let the emotion overflow everything.
She rolls her eyes, but yeah, the smile's still there.
"If you must."
"Oh, I definitely must."
This time, holding her feels like sealing a pact. Crossing a threshold, passing a door which had been open for years and that he could only look at from afar.
It feels like coming home.
"I love you too, Cub. So much", he says in her hair, trying not to let his eyes mist.
"The nickname's gonna stick, isn't it?" she complains, but without any real fire.
"I'm afraid so, yes. Does it bother you? Cause I can stop. I'm not your father, I can actually control what my mouth is saying."
She snorts.
"No, I don't mind. I'd rather be a tiger cub than a kitten. And don't tell him I told you that, but I don't mind being compared to Dad like this."
She already has the grace, wisdom and playful side of both, though, he smiles interiorly. And he knows she's going to be huge, life-turning, maybe world-changing, when she's going to take her father's mantle. She's going to put his wild roars to shame, one day.
So, the only thing she lacks from an actual tiger?
Stripes.
"Come on, we should go back to him, he's going to worry."
She nods.
When the car starts again and when the radio comes back full blast, this time, Barnaby feels like listening to pop songs.
They haven't even passed the doormat that a very loud "Welcome home, my darlings, sweet little dumplings, lights of my life!" echoes in the apartment.
What is it with his partner and pet names, Barnaby will never know.
But Kotetsu sounds way too joyful for his daughter, and he winces. This could go either of two ways; one, Kaede accepts to let him goof around and tries to use his racket as a distraction. Two, the nerves are going to take control and Barnaby gives her two full minutes of paternal cooing before she snaps. Likely, at him. But maybe, at Barnaby, too.
Claws or not will be her pick.
"So, sweetie, how did it go, this week? Learnt any new cool moves?"
He illustrates this with a ridiculous throwing of arms that manages to put tomato sauce on the kitchen cabinets beside him. Judging by the two stains already on the cupboard, it's not his first over-enthusiastic movement of the evening. Barnaby rolls his eyes and resigns himself with wiping it.
Kaede ignores her father's theatrics, mostly, and all but throws her bag on the couch and leaves her suitcase in the hall.
"T'was shit."
Kotetsu stops with his spoon raised up above his head. There's tomato sauce slowly dripping from it. It's going to land on his hair if he doesn't move in the next mi… And there it goes. He didn't even feel it.
Barnaby, with a dish towel in hand, crouched next to the cupboard's door, has stopped, too.
He frankly didn't expect her to just be this brutally honest.
"Oh? What happened?" Kotetsu asks, suddenly serious, and Barnaby intercepts a quick glance in his direction. He doesn't even have the time to make a mimic at his partner, whether to say "you have tomato sauce in your hair, you numbskull" or "Warning! Minefield! Slippery slope!" that she adds: "The boy I had a crush on turned out to be a jerk."
Kotetsu nearly drops his spoon, but recovers admirably quick and pretends that he wanted to put it in the sink, anyway.
"Ho-… Wha-… Matthew?"
"Yeah", she admits, her cheeks slowly turning pink. "Turns out he's a dumbass, and a bully, and has no idea what a true hero is."
A true hero, Barnaby notes.
This is one of those things he's definitely going to rat out to Kotetsu later if she doesn't do it first.
"Oh, sweetie…"
Her jacket gets thrown over the couch, and she marches determinably towards the kitchen, where they both stand, a bit taken aback. Kotetsu still hasn't dropped the bowl he used to make pasta sauce. Barnaby, still down beside the cabinet, rises up with a slowness than verges on comical. He's scared he's going to break the moment if he's too quick.
Kotetsu stops moving.
Kaede doesn't.
She all but slams into his middle and snakes her arms around him. Baffled, he puts the bowl down, and raises a hand to hug her back. He mouths "Matthew?", looking puzzled, in Barnaby's direction.
Barnaby nods, watching them hug, heart strangely tight.
The first time he saw her clutching at his middle like this, everything smelled of blood and burnt plastic. And Kaede barely reached his chest.
Now, the kitchen smells like basil and thyme and she can comfortably rest her forehead on his collar bones.
"Spaghetti Bolognese and a musical, then?" Kotetsu asks, his voice soft and deep, and yes, hearts are liquid, tigers are the best things to happen to rabbits and Barnaby doesn't ever want to leave.
"Spaghetti Bolognese and a musical", she nods.
Barnaby looks back to the tomato sauce he didn't even wipe from the kitchen cabinet.
The splatters look like three sharp lines on the oak wood.
He smiles.
There, he's found the stripes.
