Disclaimer: Still don't own the fabulous serious known as "Paranoia Agent." I'd have a much better computer if I did. And again, I realize that Shonen Bat may seem as though he is "OOC". This is my interpretation of what might have happened after the end of the series. This is the way we could wrap up all the loose ends. I'd rather not hear about "this isn't Shonen Bat, you're an idiot, blah, blah, blah…" If you've read the first chapter, you already know this.

Stranger than Fiction: Kawazu

"Dammit, I never get the breaks!" Nine a.m., and his day was already off on the wrong foot.

By the time he had gotten the phone call from his informer, ten of the rival newspapers were already on the scene. All he had was his trusty old camera around his neck and a pad and pencil in hand. He had no way to compete with them.

The story wasn't really all that juicy, anyway. A burned house, the charred skeleton of the structure barely standing. Ever after the reconstruction of Tokyo two years ago, most of the old houses had been replaced by the more space efficient condos and apartment complexes. This relic was of particular importance, as it had had a bad reputation for being a yakuza safe house, but that had been years ago and now, it was just a harmless old wreck. Even the most unverified rumors about arson by rival gangs were sparse. Hardly even enough to fill a single column. Kawazu leaned against the precarious foundation and sighed.

He had said it once, he'd say it again…he never got the breaks.

It wasn't easy, being afraid of financial ruin for half your life. Back when he'd gone into the business years ago, he'd expected to be a famous reporter by the time he was thirty, a colossal media icon by forty, and retired before he was fifty. He'd heard the fairy tales of stardom and aspired to them. He could see himself at the top, and strove to be there.

But somewhere between college graduation and his sixth job as a newsboy, reality set in. One day, as he was woken out of a dreamless, booze-induced sleep in his rat-hole apartment, it suddenly occurred to him that even if Cinderella found Prince Charming, there were plenty of people who spent their whole lives sleeping by the cinders, and he was probably going to be one of them.

Sometimes it seemed as though nothing had changed since two years ago; that lawsuit with the old man…and then the strange story about the young animator named Sagi…the dark alleyway had followed her down …something waiting there…

He shuddered involuntarily as a youngster suddenly sped by on a pair of roller blades, the gentle whir-whirl, whir-whirl sound echoing in his ears over the resounding sounds of the morning rush hour traffic. Ever since then, he had hated that sound. Something about it made the hair stand up on the back of his neck; the sound of cold metallic wheel hitting pavement, grinding along the uneven concrete, nails on a chalkboard, or a crow's talon…Kawazu lit himself a cigarette and swore under his breath. He wasn't the kind of person to get shaken by this kind of thing. He hadn't been very shaken after it happened, after all…

In fact, after it happened, he hadn't felt any worry at all… Why was that?

A newspaper blew across the burnt ground, and settled near his feet for a moment before it was caught by the wind again. He watched in blow away, the crackle-crack-crackety-crack sound snapping in the breeze, over and beneath and behind the shadows, into oblivion…

There was something in the shadows of this ruined house, he was slowly beginning to realize. The ghosts of this house were in those shadows…under the broken, burned staircases. He found himself wandering deeper and deeper into the shadowy structure of the ruins. He was following something…or perhaps something was following him.

Yes, that's it. Something was following him. He could hear it…that hair-prickling sound…whir-whirl, whir-whirl, a stranger closing in on him in that alleyway, a bat, a monstrous golden bat…yes, it was here, right here, dammit! He was right here! That boy, in these shadows, right now…it was too much for Kawazu, whose desperation was greater than his fear. His fingers were on the shutter…he whirled around the last corner, and let the flash go.

In the bright light, he saw just the smallest corner of oblivion.

He could hear the sound, rolling quickly away…whir-whir-whir-whirl, whir-whir-whir-whirl...the flash was gone, gently blinding him from his surroundings just long enough to realize that the boy was actually gone. As his eyes readjusted to the normal darkness, he reached up to the little slot in the camera and grasped the photograph gingerly by the edges, carefully keeping the photo in the darkness where it could develop. Straining his eyes to see in the dim light, waiting patiently he examined the emerging image.

Yes, there he was. The boy, the boy on the golden rollerblades, the shadow of a boy, the boy with the twisted bat raised high above his head…Kawazu felt his breath hitching in his chest. He could hardly believe what he was seeing, it was so fantastic. Shonen Bat, back? Was it really true? How could it be true? Dear God, if he could get this to the papers, he'd be rich. Photos could be worth millions of yen, simply millions. Hell, he might even be in the papers himself! He could see the headline now : "Reporter Catches Urban Myth Terrorist"…no, no, maybe just "Shonen Bat Returns?" Yes, it would probably be more like the second one…but who cared if he didn't get the limelight? If he could only get the money, then maybe he could finally be able to make something of himself. As he raced out into the sunlight, the dreams of his former self began to rush back to him. Here he was, Cinderella, found the prince at last…

"Hey, asshole!" he called out to one of the younger reporters, a snobbish young, handsome reporter from a popular television news station, one he had met (and found exceedingly arrogant) at a media gala years before. "You'll never beat what I found!"

The young man huffed and rolled his eyes as a make-up artist ran a comb through his full-bodied black hair, whoring him up for the cameras. "Fuck off, Kawazu, I don't need your shit today," he responded acidly.

Kawazu grinned, his potbelly rolling with laugher. He laughed so hard tears began rolling down his face and he had to daub at them with the end of his scarf before he could speak again.

"Take a look, you little schmuck," he growled with vindictive triumph, thrusting the photo into the younger man's face. The young man huffed again, and, shooing the make-up artist away, finally looked at the photograph. Kawazu eagerly waited for the look of astonishment, the look of amazement, the look of disbelief.

The look that didn't come.

The young man whipped his wire-rimmed glasses off and glared at Kawazu, his eyes icily cold. "What kind of an idiot do you think I am?"

Kawazu looked dumbfounded. "Huh?"

The reported snatched the photo out of Kawazu's hand and waved it angrily in the air. "You run up to me minutes before the shoot, babbling about some scoop, and show me a picture of an alleyway? You're more pathetic than I thought!"

"Wha? Are you blind?" Kawazu yelped, snatching the photograph away again. "Anyone with eyes can see this is a-"

The blood drained out of his face.

The alleyway in the photo was empty. Rusted trashcans, a dingy old fence, a few broken bottles, the side of warehouse covered in colorful but unintelligible graffiti, wild weeds pushing up through cracks in the old asphalt…Shonen Bat had faded out completely. Not a trace of the shadow. Not a trace of the rollerblades. Not a trace of the bat.

The goldmine had become a rock quarry.

Kawazu stared and stared, trying to understand, trying to comprehend. He didn't understand. Shonen Bat…he had been right there, he could have sworn it. He wasn't seeing things. He wasn't crazy. He knew he was right…

Wasn't he?

The newspaper rolled into sight again, cracking in the wind. It dipped, rose, and finally landed in a crumpled heap at his feet.

It started low in his stomach. It rose through his chest, smiling warmly on his lungs before crawling up his throat, tickling at his tonsils, not to be defeated even by biting of the tongue, sneaking through his lips when he wasn't paying attention.

He laughed. He laughed, and as he laughed, it seemed so ridiculous that he should laugh right now when he was in such a situation, and thus, he laughed even harder. Tears began to pour down his face, and he understood something he had never understood before.

Far away, someone said his name…

He was laughing and laughing, and as he laughed, he suddenly noticed the moment in the world. The sun was breaking through the clouds, making dust of the moisture. A large group of crows were rising from an empty lot across the street and were flying westward over the dingy buildings. The weeds in the alley grew. The metal trashcans rusted. Somewhere, youths were painting graffiti on a building. The traffic roared by. Truant youths straggled by, on foot, on bikes, on skateboards, and Great Heaven, even rollerblades. He was in the middle of a burnt building and the world existed and my God, he was laughing so hard he could barely breathe!

On the air, the wind sang "Kawazu…"

He remembered a dream he had had shortly after he had been attacked. It was of himself, standing here, in a burnt house, laughing, while a strange song he had never heard before played and played and played. In this dream, he was somehow aware (he did not know how, but that was how dreams are), that there were thousands…no, millions of people, laughing just as he was, in all sorts of places and in all different ways, all with that same strange song always in the background. He'd had the dream several times, and there had been a time when he had been frightened of the dream. Indeed, he had been troubled to think of it until now.

"Kawazu! Have you finally gone insane?"

He was suddenly shaken out of his world of reality, suddenly back in his body with the glaring face of the young newsman in his face. He had to choke back the remaining roars of laugher, wiping the copious amounts of tears from his eyes with the corner of his handkerchief.

"What the hell's so funny?" the younger reporter demanded, his face turning a humorous shade of red. "What are you laughing at?"

The newspaper at his feet was caught by the wind just then and flapped away westward with the crows, snapping noisily.

Kawazu paused a moment, still half-giggling, trying to compose himself. When he finally turned to his companion, he looked him right in the eye and said:

"Cinderella was a fine girl. She was pretty and kind and she was just a fine girl. She would have been a fine girl even if she hadn't met the stinkin' prince."

The younger reporter could do nothing more than stare, mouth agape, glasses askew, hair completely out of place. He looked perfectly, no, deliciously ridiculous and Kawazu could have thought of no better justice for him than this moment. Kawazu's cigarette had burned down long ago. As he stuck a fresh one in his mouth and lifted the lighter to the tip, a much better idea suddenly occurred to him.

"Wha...what are you doing?" was all the stunned news reporter could make as he watched him lift the lighter to the photograph.

One small snicker of triumph, like a hundred secrets that will never be known…

"Boy," Kawazu grinned slyly, laughter in his eyes as he set the little sheet of paper ablaze, "have you ever heard that fact is stranger than fiction?"

Yes, yes I know, I have not updated in a long while. I have that right. I'd like to know anyone's comments or questions, if they wish to leave them, but again, I will ignore outright flames and complaints of OOC on Shonen's part for, as I have already explained, this is a continuation and my interpretation of what a sort of "unpolluted" Shonen Bat would do to tie up the loose ends with several of the characters. Also, I want to know if people are really interested, and am still deciding if I will go on with the rest of it.

Comments? I'd love them.