Disclaimer: FLCL and all associated ideas, characters, and images are the property of Gainax and Production I.G. All use on my part of the aforementioned is purely for entertainment purposes only and result in no profit on my part. I will not delay in removing this story should the property's owners request it.
Super Special Bonus Disclaimer: This fan fiction's author would like to remind you that this is in fact a "Teen" rated story. The following chapter does contain graphic descriptions of violence and isn't recommended reading for the weak of heart.
FOOLY COOLY DUO
Shutting her eyes, she stabs the needle directly into his heart, passing through the chest with a single blow. She gasps, and at that moment a yell rings out from the opposite end of the corridor.
"There they are! We've got him now!" Three figures crouch menacingly at the end of the hallway, approaching slowly. Each clutches a GSPB standard Rickenbacker 4001 bass guitar in their hands. Yellow eyes gleam with feral intent behind long pink hair and fanged teeth are revealed by wicked smiles.
Canti and Amarao step back, this is it. Releasing her held breath, Kitsurubami presses her thumb and sends the plunger down.
The reaction is instantaneous. With a twitch and a jump Naota Nandaba roars to life.
Kitsurubami stumbles back in shock and horror as his primal yell fills the world. The young man falls from his chair, clutching at his chest, eyes wide with wild fear and energy. Everyone in the area grows still, overwhelmed by both his scream and the sound of his heart beat reverberating off the walls.
His head kicks up, veins bulging horribly all over his face, arms, and hand clutching the Fender Acoustic. His cry grows impossibly louder and a humid wind fills the halls with a banshee wail. His empty fist pounds wildly against the floor, shattering tile and concrete into rubble. His wild eyes pierce the disheveled strands of his hair, and fall on the three pink haired women--they all look like her. His roar dies in his throat and the mad wind trickles to a breeze.
There is only the rumbling heart beat. And then his gnashing teeth and snarling lips form a sickenly twisted grin. A slow, demonic laugh fills every hall and chills all within them to their bone. It is a rumbling and purposeful sound that all at once came from nowhere and yet was everywhere. Although his throat, teeth, and lips remained unmoved—all eyes fell upon the unmistakable source.
Using the acoustic as an aid, Naota drags himself slowly to his feet. He stands, legs slightly bent with the guitar now grasped loosely in his right hand. His head, at first hanging at an angle, snaps upright and faces the threat ahead. Eyes shadowed by ragged bangs, a Cheshire grin pierces the darkness with a pale light.
The three pink haired commandos shift uneasily. The leftmost reaches behind her back and pulls a small white kitten from a pouch. Holding it directly to her face, she engages it with a viciously silky voice. "We got an issue here. The kid's awak-." She stops as the lights in the hall hum and flicker. "Hello? Come in! Dammit!" Scowling with rage, she throws the kitten down the hall where it mews loudly before colliding with an object of some sort, then silence. She jams her finger accusingly at Naota. "That brat is jamming the signal!"
All three glare daggers at the brooding figure, but only one steps forward. "You little shit,I'll carry you out in matchboxes!" With a primal shriek she ducks and rushes towards Naota's stationary form. Her Rickenbacker is clutched with white knuckles behind her back, furiously prepared to strike.
Naota remains unmoved, but the area around him grows hazy, like the air over pavement on a hot day. A breeze emanates from his feet, kicking dust and rubble outward. A chilling sense of foreboding clutches the hearts of the observers. All eyes are now on the pinkhaired banshee, who has crossed the hall rapidly. She swings her guitar above her head with both hands to deliver a mighty blow—but it never lands. With a resounding "whump," the young man ignites. A red flame bursts from the head down, enveloping his shadowed, grinning form.
It happens in a motion almost too fast for the eye to catch. With a counterclockwise twirl, he strikes against the impending enemy with his simple guitar. The acoustic collides with the side of the commando's head, busting it open like a ripe melon. Blood, skull chunks, and brain matter burst and splatter an arc against the opposing wall. The lifeless body follows soon after, colliding with a crack and shattering its integrity.
A collective gasp echoes in the hall as the corpse slumps to the floor with the sickening "thump." The two remaining GSPB commandoes step back with shock and the infant stirrings of fear. Amarao's eyes widen and his eyebrows twitch spastically as thoughts of escape bounce around in his mind. To his left Canti stands impassively, not phased in the least by the sudden turn of events. However further down Kitsurubami's knees grow weak and her legs buckle. She quickly averts her gaze from the horrific sight, covering her mouth and barely containing a surge of vomit from entering her throat.
Naota continues to burn away, standing at perfect ease. His gaze directs from the lifeless cadaver at his feet to the two remaining threats. He moves to approach them slowly and deliberately, sadistic grin still in place—much like a demented carnival clown. His steps are light, with a near floating effect.
Naota comes to a stop just out of swinging range, peering at them with motionless malevolence. One Haruko-esque soldier cowers in the corner with her back to the wall, shuddering with eyes wide and fearful. The second moves to attack with a wild frenzy born of desperation. "Die die die die die!" Strike, strike, strike, strike, strike. Each assault connects with Naota, who makes no move in defense or offense. He seems completely unfazed by the collisions raining upon him, and bits and pieces of the Rickenbacker are chipped away with each one. Finally a blow connects with his head, which tilts with the force of it.
The commando holds the position, silently hopeful that she finally succeeded in inflicting damage. Her hopes are then dashed when Naota grasps the base of the guitar with his empty hand. Suddenly, the entire weapon ignites in red flame. The pinkhaired warrior immediately drops it to the floor with a cry of shock and pain, where it almost instantly becomes a pile of ash. Naota wastes no time in his counter attack, pinning his opponent to the wall with a single well placed blow with the acoustic. He then silences her cries for mercy and agony with a strike to the throat, twisting her trachea inside out and turning them into strangled gasps for air. Blow after deliberate blow connects with the women, shattering bones and rupturing innards. Finally, with a roar of rage Naota swings the Fender one last time against her torso. The guitar shatters into a thousand pieces with the force of the collision, which in turn rip his opponent to shreds. Naota then drops the useless guitar neck to the floor and turns to the final enemy.
The last commando cowers and shivers in the corner, eyes wide and terror-stricken. Her guitar lays forgotten at her feet. However, as she makes eye contact with the fiery demon, her entire demeanor changes. With an instant change in tactics, she stands straight and her lips curl into a seductive smile. Her eyes sparkle with inviting mischief as she slowly, but confidently, approaches the engine of destruction before her. Naota stands stoic and unmoving while she wraps an arm around his neck and gently rubs her opposing leg gently up and down his thigh. Her voice is silky and hauntingly familiar to his ears.
"Aww…now you don't want to kill little ol' me now do you?" she purrs into his ear. "We could have so much fun together…you and me."
"Oh right, I'm already in that kind of relationship with Ta-kun here!"
She grazes the tip of her finger daintily down the bridge of his nose, chin, and chest. In response, Naota's flames die to a crimson glow. "What do you say hmm? I could help you, you know. In so many ways. There's a whole universe out there that you've never seen." She grins wickedly. "With your power, it could all be yours."
"Oooh Ta-kun, my first kiss!"
"Your name is Naota right?" She whispers heatedly in his ear. "Would it be too forward of me to call you…Ta-kun?"
"You know what? Save it for next time Ta-kun, cuz' you're still just a kid."
With a roar of rage Naota ignites again, searing the temptress' skin in an instant. Through the rushing torrents of power, through the fog of his drug addled mind, random snippets of thought float to the surface and whip him into a frenzy. They're all the same! Wasn't she unique? Wasn't that what they were fighting for? But they're all the same! They're all trying to use him! Tasuke…!
"…nobody calls me Ta-kun!"
The trio of would-be rescuers watch silently and wide-eyed as the spectacle unfolds before them. The final commando drops to her knees, sobbing and crying out in pain as smoke billows from her burns. Her cries fall on deaf ears however, as Naota gives out a another roar and the flames increase in intensity. Naota delivers a swift and brutal kick to her jaw, lodging it in the braincase and killing her instantly. Memories bubble to the surface, fueling the fire. Continuing his cries of rage and sadness, Naota grasps the corpse by its misshapen head—igniting its entirety. With a swing and a mighty toss, the flaming chunk of meat flies down the hall. Thinking quick, Canti grasps his companions by their heads and shoves them to the floor, narrowly dodging a fiery death.
From the floor all three watch on in silent awe as Naota cuts loose on the corridor. With no more enemies within immediate sight, the demonic creature unleashes its frustration on the reinforced wall. Pounding and shouting with a disembodied and tortured voice, he chips away at the wall with the force of years of oppression. He turns to another wall, kicking and punching with an unnatural intensity, and another. Rubble begins to drop and pile, some from cracks forming in the ceiling. Back and forth like a raging demon from hell with no rhyme or reason to its mad thrashing.
"We have have to stop him! He's going to bring the whole building down on top of us!" Amarao shouts over the noise, hands clasped over his head protectively.
"How?! I think this is more than a tranq gun fix!" Kitsurubami screams back.
"I don't know!"
"This was your idea!"
"It wasn't a very good one!"
"You think?!"
And with that an explosion rocks the corridor. A beam of sunlight bursts into the darkened space. Naota had inadvertently opened an exit. With a final mournful sound, he collapses and drapes over the new hole, entirely spent. The flames die to embers, and eventually dissipate completely. All that is left of the chaos is a broken and unconscious young man. The trio shakily and warily drag themselves up to their feet. No one makes a sound.
Finally, the commander breaks the silence. "Canti: pick him up. Kitsurubami: the guitar. The truck's just right outside, we'll start medicating him there."
They all go about their tasks silently, but with heavy hearts and minds.
Chapter 3: To be? Or not to be?
"Alright, cut the feed there."
Amarao stands with his hands placed flat and firm on his desk in the central control room of DII Surveillance. Towards the back of the room Kitsurubami stands with her hands grasped firmly on the wheelchair in front of her, her face ashen and eyes averted. Naota sits upright with a grim face and hands draped over his armrests. All around them loyal personnel in blue uniforms buzz about at their desks performing a multitude of tasks.
Amarao turns to face his two companions. "I don't think I need to explain to you what's happened here."
Naota replies emotionlessly. "But the question is how did I tap into Atomsk's power when he isn't here anymore? Not only that, but I didn't need Canti at all."
"Yeah well we've all come up with a possible explanation for all that. We believe that you've matured out of the need for Canti's assistance in channeling your N.O. Up until now you've required either activation by an experienced practitioner—aka Raharu, who essentially hijacked it, or the aid of Canti's kinetic mainframe to boost your already impressive N.O.—where you retain significantly more control of it. Now through natural maturation and R&D's programming you've reached an unprecedented, if dangerous, peak in N.O. It really doesn't matter where in the universe Atomsk may be hiding, you seem to have the ability to pluck him right out of the cosmos, or send him right back. Your N.O. works both ways. It's spectacular; R&D really had no idea what they had." Seeing the beginnings of a scowl crossing Naota's face, Amarao waves his hands frantically in a calming gesture and laughs nervously. "Ah ha ha ha, no disrespect meant of course…please don't send me to the sun."
"I doubt I could even if I wanted to."
The commander smiles mischievously. "Ah well that's just not true. It's all hypothetical, but with a little practice you could be spelling your name in the sky with other planets. It's a horrific power. The only advice we can give you at this time is what we've managed to scrounge up from R&D's and the GSPB's accumulated information. With a clear enough picture of the desired object in your mind, you should be able o feel the ability to grab and pull it, and vice versa—like a third hand. For you size is no issue, you're on a level of physics where mass and proportion hold no meaning.
Naota shut his eyes, he could feel it in the back of his mind, like a sleeping dragon. It did in fact feel like a disproportionately powerful phantom limb. An odd thought crosses his mind. "What if I pulled myself through?"
Amarao winces, "I wouldn't suggest trying it. Just be…careful of what you're thinking as best you can, alright?" He moves to take a bite of a glazed pastry.
The wheelchair bound young man nods solemnly. "Where is Canti now?"
Amrao's massive eyebrows perk up and he's swallows a mouth full of bread. "In the kitchen making me more of these delicious sweet rolls."
Suddenly a female voice in the crowd of uniformed workers cries out. "They aren't just for you, you know!"
The Commander Amarao wheels around in anger, fists shaking at his side. "Insubordination! Who said that?!"
Another voice, this one male, yells out elsewhere. "Why does everything around here have to be sweet? Why can't we make the robot bake curry bread?"
"I will not tolerate the presence of spicy, sour, or pulpy foods on these grounds! Sweets keep the head straight! You all know that!"
"You're loony!"
The Commander scowls and jabs his finger accusingly, head whipping around the room to find dissenters. "That's it! If anyone else has anything else to say about how I run my ship, heads are going to roll! How about it!?! Huh? Huh?!" Silence reigns while the crowd shifts sheepishly. Grinning smugly, he readjusts a loosened nori eyebrow and turns back to Naota and Kitsurubami."Right, any other questions?"
Naota purses his lips for a moment, then asks "What comes next?"
And now Kitsurubami pipes up with a pleasant smile. "I'll answer that." She starts to wheel him out of the room. "Next all the crippled demi-gods in the room go to their scheduled physical therapy sessions."
Horror strikes his features. "Sweet jesus NO!" He starts flapping his arms in protest. "Not that…that torture artist!"
She pats his head to soothe him and chastises him good-naturedly. "Now now. Nurse Aoki is the best in the field at what she does and has nothing but kindness in her heart for you."
Naota crosses his arms in a childish pout. "She's a sadistic hag! What about that weird laugh she does every time I fall?!"
"She's just trying to keep the mood light." It seemed to be a perfectly reasonable explanation to the young Lieutenant. She takes a right turn down another hall.
Naota was not convinced. "She's sick and abusive. You said yourself she used to work in the interrogation department!"
Kitsurubami lifts a finger to respond, but pauses in mid-motion. He had a point—a good one. "It doesn't matter if it hurts or not, you have to do it if you ever want to get out of the chair."
"Don't change the subject! That has nothing to do with this!"
"It has everything to do with it. You can't just get up and go whenever you want when your muscles are in atrophy; you have to work for it." She pokes him repeatedly in the back of the head. "Even Uma Thurman had to work to get that back."
"Whatever! It took her like, ten seconds!"
"It was a plot device! Months went by between scenes!"
"She just sat in the truck and wiggled her toes!"
"Just enough so that she could drive!"
"Well why can't I drive yet?!"
"You never learned how in the first place!"
"Yeah well….what are we arguing about?!"
"I don't know!"
"Well neither do I!"
"Ok!"
"Fine!" And with that both clam up.
Naota's arms remained crossed and Kitsurubami stomps behind him, making no effort to make his ride a comfortable one. Such exchanges have become frequent between the two. Ranging from the coolest style of martial arts (Kitsurubami being the only one between them with any actual experience in it) to debating the superiority of ninjas over pirates (of which Naota still insists that at the end of the day, the Ninja will just kill the Pirate while they sleep.). Neither truly get upset during the process, and both secretly wonder if the other enjoys them as much as they do.
Kitsurubami suddenly remembers the original discussion and decides to press her point one more time. "Besides, you don't really want me wheeling you around forever now do you?" She brings her erratic pushing to a more peaceful glide as they finally pull into their destination.
Naota doesn't answer, he finds that the question isn't as simple as it seemed.
Author's Note: And another chapter comes to a close. I apologize for the later that usual posting, and slightly shorter length. I'm visiting Chicago right now, so my time isn't as free as usual. It's one of my favorite towns. I never miss a chance to see the Contemporary Art Museum. The current exhibits were a strange combination of all my favorite fields of study--I'm ahead of my curve artistically, just like my parents have always been. It's a good feeling, really inspires me to work more.
But don't worry, I won't cut into my fanfiction writing time.
Anyway, I hope you guys were satisfied with the "fighting" at the beginning of the chapter. When I write violence, it tends to be…violent. I find myself having to tone the detail and graphic imagery down, for fear of striking people as psychotic.
If the shoe fits?
Fun fact: A teacher of mine once told me that I, and I quote: "write like an asshole." We both laughed. It's not something I didn't already know, but it was funny to hear at the time. Whenever I write in the first person, I always sound like a prick and it can't be helped. I'm really not this aggravating in real life, I insist.
I'm just digging myself into a hole aren't I?
Christ!
Anyway, reviewer response time.
Azure dream: I love that song. The Pillows are just awesome. Soundtracks are a secret part of my life that most people don't know I love. It's a genre of music far apart from what I'm known to listen to. Can't be helped though, just brings back too many good memories, but do you ever get a little sad when you're listening to it? Like the good times are behind you? I get that kinda-sad nostalgic feeling. Also, the longer the reviews, the happier I am, so no problem at all. See you next chapter.
Impact-megaton: I'm happy to hear you like it! I'm surprised by how much I enjoy writing characters other than Naota, who I thought would be the focus. So far, Amarao has been getting a good share of face time, he's fun.
Miles 'Tag' Underwood: Yeah, what little I saw of Kitsurubami's character in the show I fell in love with. It's my sad fate to attach to minor characters. I think Naota's dark wit pairs well with her cheery but violent demeanor.
ShadowsinWell thanks for your support. I'll try not to be so stressed about it. Yeah, NaotaxKitsurubami is a lot of fun, for the same reasons I told Miles. I'm happy to hear you'll be sticking with it, I won't let you down.