"Absolutely incredible," Lawrence Keene, doctorate candidate and researcher at Sternbild University, repeats as he flings holo-graphs and digital x-rays on the wall. "My thesis proposal barely had a leg to stand on, but I think this is extremely strong evidence of latent NEXT abilities."
"But what does this mean?" Kotetsu really can't care less about the consequences in the scientific community. He just wants to stop feeling like a freak—he wants an excuse, an explanation, anything.
"I've run blood samples back and forth with other labs researching NEXT physiology. There's a lab in California that has found NEXTs tend to have irregularities in their DPD-3 strands—"
Kotetsu coughs loudly, and shoots Keene an apologetic look. I don't speak science.
"Right. Well, they've been extremely successful at identifying subjects as NEXT, non-NEXT, or… well, ex-NEXT." Keene trails off a little. "You know, it's kind of like history come around again. With the first generation of heroes on Hero TV and their popularity, it became okay for people to be NEXTs. Then when you went public with your power loss, it became okay for people not to be NEXTs. We got a surge of volunteers for studies about power declines, the condition is still rare, but it's been grossly underreported, absolutely incredi—"
Kotetsu has to cough again to get him back on track.
"Right, sorry. Even though you don't have Hundred Power anymore, your blood samples matched those of people who have NEXT abilities, when you should have been a match for the ex-NEXTs. That was our first clue something was amiss. Then we sent some blind DNA samples and your x-rays to some forensic scientists, so we could get some unbiased dates on your physical age. Everyone who got the samples dated you at around forty years old, fifteen years younger than you actually are."
"That can't be right."
"We asked twelve different medical examiners. They all identified a healthy Asian male in his late thirties, early forties."
"So then… what does that mean for aging? Forty over fifty-five… Am I aging, like, eighty percent, or something?"
"Seventy-two, by that proportion… and I don't think that's the case." Keene flings a holographic line graph up onto the wall. "On the x-axis, the horizontal line, I've plotted your literal age. Then on the y-axis, I have your physical age. I'm making a few assumptions, time will tell if this is right or not, but you didn't report any developmental problems in your youth. You were walking and talking on schedule, adolescence wasn't delayed, you grew up normally." He highlights the first part of the graph with a wave of his hand: a nice, straight line, progressing directly through the corners of the graph boxes, a perfect one-to-one climb.
"Then, if we assume that this latent NEXT ability appeared when your Hundred Power began declining, your aging follows a new linear progression…"
With the wave of his hand, Keene highlights the next part of the graph. At thirty-six, Kotetsu's line changed drastically, shooting straight across the grid and barely climbing.
"You're fifty-five now. I subtracted the time during which you aged normally, thirty-six years, and divided by five, which says you've aged three-point-eight years, which would put your physical age extremely close to forty."
"…Huh?"
"Ever since your powers began to decline, I suspect you've been aging five times slower than normal. At fifty-five, you're more like forty. At sixty-five, you'll be about forty-two. Seventy-five, you'll be forty-four, maybe forty-five, on and on."
Keene grows more and more excited as he talks. "I mean, we have no reason to assume this delayed aging is actually extending your lifespan, but if it did, by the time your body is eighty years old, you'll have lived for about two-hundred and twenty years. If your body lasts just twenty years more, you'll be three hundred years old." The scientist beams at Kotetsu. "Isn't that absolutely incredible?"
Kotetsu stares at the line graph, and the slow slope reaching toward blank infinity. "I'd rather have my Hundred Power back."
They tell only a few people—friends, family. If Kotetsu had to rank, Muramasa took it best. Nothing phases his older brother anymore, so long as Kotetsu pays for his beer. But, he did praise his little brother for seeking help with this new NEXT power, and telling his family within a reasonable window. While taking it the best, Muramasa's reaction made his little brother feel five years old again: five, going on fifty-six, looking forty.
The heroes pass through approximations of the stages of grief, calling a latent NEXT power impossible, trying to insist Kotetsu is just a youthful-looking guy, there has to be some other explanation…
Nathan is the one who draws the parallel: "We've seen a NEXTs that could use powers without glowing before. Remember?"
"Who?"
"Jake's telepathy."
And though he didn't mean to kill the mood—because Nathan creates mood, never kills it—suddenly no one wanted to discuss the matter anymore.
They leave the sponsors and corporate-types out of it—save Ben, who bridges the gap, and all he can do is pat Kotetsu's back supportively—because a media circus is the last thing they want when the explanation made everyone even more upset than the uncertainty.
Barnaby and Kotetsu subsist by spending as much time as they can together, doing activities that actively avoid the enormous elephant in the room. It starts out as a game of War: Kotetsu has a deck of cards, Barnaby can't remember playing it in his childhood, so Kotetsu set to teaching his partner. They spent hours flipping cards over one by one and pitting them against each other. Random chance dictates a fairly even win-loss ratio for the both of them.
This lasts a week, until Barnaby grows bored and brings a somewhat more sophisticated game.
"It's called Cribbage," Barnaby says, showing Kotetsu the compact board filled with little holes in a neat line, a bit like a running track. "We're dealt hands, count special pairs, and race each other around the track."
It takes a few days for Kotetsu to fully figure the game out, but before long, they're counting like experts, "fifteen-two, fifteen-four, pair for six, six more for runs, twelve," "Okay, fifteen-two, jack makes three, in the crib I've got two runs with a pair for eight." And they race each other around the little wooden plank, a pleasant time-filler that lets them chat.
From there, they branch out: gin rummy, canasta, and then into board games, Chinese checkers, backgammon, and occasionally, chess. Chess is not Kotetsu's forte—way too much waiting and planning ahead, playing three games at the same time—but Barnaby is a benevolent victor, and coaxes Kotetsu into playing again and again because Kotetsu never plays the same game twice, and such an unpredictable opponent amuses him.
Sometimes, they run out of games, so they sit together on Kotetsu's sofa, or if they're at Barnaby's place, his bed, usually reading. Barnaby chooses philosophical or technical texts, thick books with boring covers. Kotetsu's are much lighter, more colorful, which Barnaby jokingly refers to as his "picture books." Kotetsu laughs it off and kicks Barnaby, and doesn't quite move his leg away.
It's times like these—leaning into Barnaby, listening to him breathe, watching his eyes flick back and forth across the pages—that Kotetsu wouldn't mind living for three hundred years, if his life could be filled with these wonderful moments of peace, to just be with Barnaby. But he stops thinking about it before he remembers that Barnaby doesn't have three hundred years, and he stares down at his book, and 'reads.'
"Hey, Bunny, have you seen these?"
Kotetsu flicks through something on his phone. Barnaby leans over and adjust his glasses. Not even Kotetsu knows these are bifocals now, with a seamless lens in the same shape as his usual frames.
He's on Pwitter, scanning through posts. There's a hashtag trending: #SeeYaBBJ, in honor of Barnaby's retirement. He's served Sternbild for twenty-five years, but now the doctors warn him about his weakening bones—apparently, his parents carried genes susceptible to osteoporosis, and all the milk in the world couldn't have staved off such a strong predisposition. And the exhaustion is getting worse, and he knows it's time to quit when he gets a call and the first thought through his mind is, shut up and leave me alone. That's not the attitude of a hero, at least, not one who must be ready at a moment's notice to fight the good fight.
Kotetsu has been his godsend, his foundation, as usual. Barnaby discussed his options with Kotetsu: he could stay in the industry as a consultant and analyst. He could find a charity to support and devote his time to everyday heroism. He could go back to college. Barnaby's considering a combination of the three: a Hero blog of 'post-game' commentary, working with foster care organizations, and enrolling at Sternbild University to hopefully turn his eclectic collection of college credits from Hero Academy and online courses into an official degree or two. Even over the hill, Barnaby has so much of his life ahead of him… He really does… Really… Retiring isn't the end of the world at all…
Taking Kotetsu's phone, Barnaby focuses a little more on the pweets, reading them.
BBJ saved my wife and I from a collapsing building. He's the reason we met and have two wonderful sons. Best of luck. #SeeYaBBJ
"These are…"
"It's a hashtag for your fans. They're telling you exactly how much you meant to them."
I can't believe BBJ is retiring. He's so awesome, it felt like he'd always be there to protect us. Either way, #SeeYaBBJ
heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart-heart #SeeYaBBJ
Barnaby scrolls down through more pweets, each one detailing the way his life and his career changed the posters' lives.
Am I crazy that I liked BBJ better in league 2? Bcuz it proves true heroes can do good anywhere. No need to be on TV to help ppl #SeeYaBBJ
I used to hate heroes because they hid behind masks. BBJ was the first hero I believed in since he told us who he was IRL. #SeeYaBBJ
"They love you so much, Barnaby. You're a great hero. People are going to be talking about you for decades. They'll remember everything you've done for them."
BBJ spans 3 generations: my mom –heart-'s him, I grew up on him, and we watch HeroTV with my baby boy. You've touched so many lives #SeeYaBBJ
I'm named Brooke after BBrooksJr, so I'll feel strong and always try my best. Thx to Mom, Dad, and BBJ, I can. #SeeYaBBJ
#SeeYaBBJ. SB is so proud of you, and we'll miss you so much. You're a true hero forever, a life measured by the lives you saved.
The pweets go on and on, hundreds of little messages about how much Barnaby means to everyone, stories of hope and joy and praise boiled down to as few characters as possible, the condensed stories of real lives with real people, each one of them grateful, and sad to see him go.
He doesn't mean to cry. It just happens, and Kotetsu's hands are on his cheeks wiping away the tears before he even realizes they've started to fall.
"It's okay, Bunny," Kotetsu whispers tenderly. "It's okay."
And he wants to believe Kotetsu, the way he's believed Kotetsu for years, but Barnaby is a real person, too. This retirement means a new life, leaving behind hero work, leaving behind Kotetsu.
Barnaby is so grateful for Kotetsu, and even though he's the one leaving, he doesn't want to see him go.