Interlude – Orga Itsuka

Some people, it seemed, could use their voice as a weapon.

"What are you going to do about this?" Orga raised the paper and glanced over his shoulder.

The headline was visible. Newtype's third interview in a week advocating for the 'rehabilitation' of Bakuda rather than her arrest. Orga didn't quite know what the word meant. He didn't know what a lot of the words meant really. What did she mean by 'it's time to get moving forward'? She seemed to be talking about the PRT, but exactly what she meant eluded him.

The PRT seemed to be working just fine, though he heard complaints about it all the time.

He'd often heard some of the old geezers complain that the PRT created the ABB. Absurd. Lung created the ABB. What did they expect to happen? The big heroes weren't going to drop in, throw Lung off his throne, and make room for them. Orga supposed they were right in some ways. It's not like the PRT ever did much about Lung.

Newtype and Bakuda did it themselves.

"I'm no hero," Alice grumbled. "Evangelion can preach all she wants. Free country and all that. Maybe if the shields leave me alone I can actually get something done, though. Something epic."

She wore baggy clothes and a dark hoodie to obscure her face. She didn't normally come near their building, but what was going on must have gotten to her.

"What about you?" Alice asked. "Still wondering when the other shoe will drop?"

Maybe.

"She didn't have to do that," Biscuit suggested. "She never promised to advocate for Alice to the press. Some of the other stuff she's saying is putting a target on her back too. The PRT won't like it, and some of the stuff online is making it seem like they were already losing patience with her."

"Of course they were." Alice started chuckling. "She's screwing with their bread and butter. Girl's fucking crazy."

Biscuit smiled. "But you like her."

"Crazy's fun." Alice chuckled again. "Then again, maybe she's just a damn genius. No ones talking about caging that kid anymore, are they?"

"Kid?" Orga asked.

"The one from Hartford who got her power and made my 'blow up Cornell' phase look tame."

Huh. Orga hadn't really read anything about that. He grabbed the papers he could cause it was quick, but she only got mentioned for a few days after Hartford. He'd already forgotten her name.

Newtype was protecting her, by using Bakuda in her place? "You're okay with that?"

Alice grinned. "Fuck the PRT."

Biscuit was usually the one who appreciated things like that. Admittedly, "Big ideas aren't really my style. Food in our bellies. Roof over our heads. Money to do what we want. That's what I understand." He set the paper aside and sighed. "All this heroes and villains stuff is white noise to me."

It reminded him of Benihime. Other than Biscuit and Mikazuki, he doubted anyone else would remember her. The Protectorate arrested her after the fight with Iron Rain, and Lung came through before anyone could even talk of busting her out. Orga wasn't sure what happened to her now.

She'd been nice to them, looked out for them. Made sure they had everything they needed to get by. Lung and his ABB never once cared about that. They were rats. Debris. Something to be used and thrown aside.

The PRT called Benihime a villain, but she was one of the few people he knew that bothered to treat them like kids rather than fodder. Way he saw it, hero and villain were just words. Words are easy.

I'm not asking you to do that.

Leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes, Orga wondered if they'd come far enough.

The guys could eat when they wanted and as much as they wanted. No one shot guns at them anymore. They slept in warm beds. They had honest work and got paid. For the first time in a long time, he felt that sense again. The warmth of family, home. A little bit further, and they wouldn't have to rely on others for everything anymore.

Their lives would be their own. How much further could they move?

"Hey, Biscuit."

"Yeah?"

"Is this what it's supposed to look like for us? The place we belong."

He opened one eye and watched from the corner. Biscuit pulled his hat down over his head. "Is it?"

He didn't know. It was all talk in the end. He didn't actually know much more than anyone else. The words kept the others moving, kept them hoping. He really didn't have a mind for lofty things.

"I don't know," Orga admitted, and Biscuit was the only one he could outright admit that to.

He raised the paper again and looked at the picture on the front.

Newtype had changed her mask again, or maybe she'd started wearing one again. She'd built a sort of half helmet, one that covered her ears and temples and the visor now swept to the back of her head like her old mask did. Her face was still visible under the visor, but it looked better than the high-tech glasses she'd been wearing.

Capes weren't the only ones who wore masks. Orga knew it better than most. He wore one himself most of the time. He couldn't show weakness or hesitation, not when everyone looked to him for the answers. That didn't mean he didn't have doubts, though.

He'd been wondering which masks Newtype wore, but now… Was she really wearing any mask at all? Maybe he was looking for something that just wasn't there. Maybe she simply was who she presented herself as, a girl with powers that looked around her and didn't like what she saw.

Maybe that made her amazing in her own way.

The door cracked, and Orga lowered the paper.

Mika poked his head into the room. "It's here."

Setting the paper aside, Orga rose from his chair and grabbed his coat. "Let's see it then."

"Something come in?" Biscuit asked.

"Don't worry about us," Mikazuki said curtly. "We'll make do without you."

Biscuit grimaced and Alice raised her head from the couch pillow.

Orga shook his head. "You have a harsh way of showing kindness, Mika."

He cocked his head back. "Do I?"

"Don't worry about us," Orga repeated. "You two have your own problems. Maybe if whatever Newtype is doing works out, that'll change. For now, we'll take care of ourselves." They needed to keep some distance.

Orga stepped forward and through the doorway. Mika followed behind him. Seemed the best way to get the point across. The Protectorate wouldn't let Bakuda go just because Newtype prodded them about it. Nothing's that easy.

"Any problem with the shipment?" Orga asked.

"No. We have everything we asked Naze to send."

Big bro Naze kept coming through. They seemed blessed of late. Maybe that shoe was still waiting to drop.

From what Newtype told him, things were about to heat up for everyone. Blue Cosmos' war. Teacher. The Endbringers. She had to fight them all, and that meant all of them would arrive at their doorstep.

Not just theirs.

Heading down the stairs and to the back, they entered into a small loading dock filled with crates and three jeeps. A few were already open, with Shino shifting through the contents.

The boy raised his head as Orga approached and smiled. "Hey, boss man. Awful lot of toys we got here."

Leaning over, Orga pulled one of the boxes out and turned it over. He felt bad spending so much money, but Tekkadan had voted him boss in their first election. Suppose that's the only way it could end. They were too used to following him to pick anyone else. At least they had a choice now, even if they didn't use it for much.

Orga set the phone case down in the crate with the others. Cheap phones were never not useful. Having a supply ready to go for a crisis would benefit them long term, even if it was costly now.

"Do we keep the jeeps?" Hush asked.

"What do we need all the fishing nets for?" Danji asked as he looked into another crate.

"Careful with that," Orga said with a grin. "They're not toys."

"What do we need them for?" Elgar asked back.

Capes had it easy. They had powers and a lot of them never even seemed to think much about how to best use them. Orga wasn't a cape. He didn't have the luxury of not thinking.

"They're weapons," Orga explained with a masking grin.

The younger boys gave him confused looks. "Wouldn't guns be easier?"

"Can't use guns, brats," Shino declared. "We ain't street thugs no more! We're knights!"

Active imagination as usual. "He's right," Orga agreed. "We can't use guns anymore." Not that he'd throw out the ones they had. He wasn't stupid. "It'll get us in trouble and cause problems for big bro Naze and Newtype."

"So…" Danji lifted one of the net bundles. "We're going to fight with nets?"

He felt them on his back. Mika's eyes, watching him like always. Silently asking 'what do we do now.' What comes next. How much further. His answers always felt empty before, but now…

"We have contracts," Orga said loudly, drawing the eyes of the dozen or so members around him. "A lot of folks in the Docks put their faith in us to keep their stores safe. Newtype needs help shipping her robots. The Turbines need help saving others like us from the kinds of places we used to be in."

Orga looked around the room, meeting some of the eyes and hating how they hung on his words.

"We've come too far to go back now!" Orga declared. "We gave our word, and Tekkadan doesn't go back on its word! We told all of them we'd protect this place and that's what we'll do! That's our honor. It's all we have, we're keeping it!"

"Damn right!" Shino roared.

As the cheers filled the room and boxes started getting carried inside, Orga couldn't blame her for wondering. It's a heavy weight to hold the lives of others in your hands. They'd follow him to their own deaths if he told them to. Unlike Newtype, he only thought about it after it all fell on him.

Most of the others didn't know good Japanese. They thought Tekkadan just meant 'Iron Flower.' It never wilts. Never dies. They didn't know the meaning of 'dan.' They knew they had to fight to survive, but they never thought of themselves as soldiers fighting to live. Their lives were always a calculation.

That was his burden to carry, his mask to wear.

Until he got them the rest of the way home.

"Orga."

"What's up, Mika?"

"Does this mean we're there?"

Damn kid.

Then again, they kept each other going, didn't they? Without him, maybe they'd have both just stopped back then as the waters washed everything away. Those that stop die, one way or another.

Orga raised his hand, looking at his palm. He knew how much blood stained it. How many he'd sent to die or failed to save. The world was cruel, especially to those with no one to protect them. How should he feel being the protector now? Asking them to protect others in a way no one ever protected them.

No one except Benihime, Bakuda, Naze, and…

There were many things they could have. More food. Nicer food. Nicer beds. More money. Most of them wouldn't know good food from bad food though. It's not what they needed. When everything came down to it, maybe all they really needed was room to finally grow.

"If we protect this place"—he held his arm out, finally certain of something for once—"we'll find ours."

Mika raised his hand, pressing his forearm to Orga's.

"So you say, Orga."

Orga grinned. "So I say."

Ah, that's what she meant.

Maybe moving is all there was and if he had to pick a direction, forever forward.