Chapter 1: The Vigilante
Was it right to want? To desire? Was it selfish to try and build his own happiness if it might interfere with that of others?
Or was Kazuya Kinoshita just being a pretentious little twerp? Eh, who's to say.
"Man, I wish I had a girlfriend." he thought to himself as he locked the door to his apartment and set his backpack down. Waking over to his fish tank he grabbed a bottle of food and opened the lid, body on autopilot as his mind wandered the topic he'd brought up. He'd seen a good number of couples out and about on the way home from university, and seeing a happy pair enjoying their time together both made him happy for them and pine for a love life of his own.
Closing the lid and checking the temperature Kazuya chuckled to himself. Those thoughts and wishes had plagued him more and more often recently, and he knew full well why they couldn't become reality. What free time did he even have to dedicate to a significant other? How could he give this hypothetical girl the attention she deserved when he was split between so many other responsibilities?
"What do you guys think? Think I'd make for a good boyfriend?" His three Lungfish ate silently, one looking at him with what he could almost interpret as a flat stare if he were charitable enough. Why was he talking to his fish again? "You guys never have any good advice."
No, it was the bachelor's life for him for the foreseeable future. Even if the voice at the back of his mind vehemently denied this reality.
Grabbing a meal replacement bar out of a container on his countertop he peeled it open & looked in his fridge, absently taking a bite of what had long since become a majority of his diet. A rainbow of sports drinks lined the top shelf, a deep blue one calling his name on this particular evening. Pulling it out and closing the door he stuffed the remainder of his 'dinner' into his mouth and cracked open what amounted to the real life equivalent of a stamina potion.
Chugging the sacred, energy granting elixir in a single go and unleashing a burp a could rattle a weaker man's bones marked the end of Kazuya's allotted meal time for the day as he tossed the wrapper and bottle into their respective receptacles. He had a schedule to keep, and wasn't in the mood to break his streak.
Taking a deep breath Kazuya invoked the mental command he used countless times previously.
[SUIT ON]
The feeling of familiar warmth washed over him as trillions of microscopic machines poured out from within him and covered him in the exo-suit that had become familiar to millions. As it completed forming, he walked over to his PC, set up on a desk along the opposite wall and formed a USB cable from his arm and plugged it into the tower.
Running a diagnostic program on his suit to check for anomalies was a crucial part of the maintenance process, and if it prevented him from melting from the inside out, spontaneously combusting or going blind in the field, so he didn't dare skip it.
Pulling up a few programs he viewed his nanite levels, their reproduction rate and current strength levels. All the numbers were within acceptable boundaries, so he unplugged himself and disassembled the cable back into his suit.
Running the [CLOAK] command, his suit adjusted to begin reflecting light in such a way that made him functionally invisible to the naked eye. A faint shimmer was all that was visible and, in most cases, if he moved fast enough or was well shadowed his slight visibility wasn't a factor.
Opening the door to his veranda he stepped out and quietly shut it behind him, thankful both for his lack of direct neighbors and any line of sight from across the way. Having people see him 'get dressed' and walk around his apartment was an absolute no-no. Being able to keep his secret identity just that for the almost two years he had been doing this was nerve-wracking enough without adding nosy neighbors into the mix.
Leaping over the balcony and onto the grassy patch below as he'd done so many times before filled him with the same adrenaline as it had since his first outing.
"Never gets old." he said to himself with a smile.
Jogging out to the street he broke into a sprint towards the heart of Tokyo, another evening of patrolling its glowing streets and ever-expanding underbelly leaving him with feelings of familiarity and longing for a change, no matter how small.
Little did he know, he'd find that change that very same night in a simple phone app, and it would come to alter the rest of his life.
The various Gangs of Tokyo had long since become a standard part of Kazuya's routine, no different from household chores. Clean the floors, wipe down the kitchen, beat up thugs, take out the trash. Now that he thought about it, those last two were basically the same, weren't they?
"Die, freak!"
Freak? Really? How unoriginal. Expecting a higher class of insult from the dregs he fought was a pipe dream though.
Dodging a wild swing from a baton, Kazuya stepped into his opponent's guard and delivered a short jab to the stomach, the blow enough to double over the unfortunate fool. An elbow in back of the neck dropped him like a sack of rice, his face having a swift date with the concrete.
"Guys, shouldn't we just run?" one of the obviously smarter criminals said to the others surrounding him, nerves clear in his voice.
"No way! When we beat this Wack job down, we'll be rolling in money! There's like a ¥200,000,000 bounty on his head, split a few ways we'll be set for years!" one absolute genius proclaimed, with obviously more muscles than brains. This announcement seemed to galvanize most of the group, as they stood their ground, grinning as if this would actually go their way.
Group think was a hell of a drug.
"Surrender and wait for the authorities, or I can't guarantee your safety." Kazuya announced the crowd of around 30, either participants or patrons of the underground fighting ring he'd just crashed. A few in the gaggle looked to hesitate for a moment or two, before steeling themselves. The confidence of having so many others around, he bet.
"You really want to roll these dice gentlemen? They aren't exactly weighted in your favour." he said with some excitement in his voice.
"Can it, Metalhead, and save your breath so we can beat it out of you!" The MENSA candidate from earlier called as he cracked his knuckles with a grin, backed by the jeers and cheers of his fellow fighters.
"Yeah, you're going down!"
"You're outnumbered and surrounded!"
"Ready to leave here in a bag?!"
Sighing to himself, Kazuya raised his fists and settled into a loose stance. You'd think his reputation would make a few more people question scraping with him, but learning from the mistakes of others was a rare trait in in the circles he frequently shattered.
"Shouldn't make promises your fists can't cash."
[DOUBLE STRENGTH]
A group of four rushed him, one from the front and three behind. Leaping over the shoulders of the first as he reached him, he aimed a kick to the middle of his back, the momentum crashing him into the other three. They hit the concrete floor with a solid thud, out of the fight for at least a few minutes.
As he landed, another swung their leg out in a hastily aimed kick. Dropping down and sweeping his remaining leg out from under him dropped him as well, and strike to the temple made sure he stayed there. Another approached and attempted an overhead hammer strike, which was slipped and countered with a crushing uppercut that sent him back into the crowd unconscious and bleeding. One clutching a switchblade and another with a baseball bat came at him, obviously uncoordinated. When the bat wielder swung, he hit nothing but air and lost his footing, stumbling back a step. Taking this opportunity, the other attacker made a few slashes but they too were avoided. Kazuya stepped forward and stomped down on his forward foot, pinning him and making him howl in pain. He was silenced by a forearm strike which made him go limp and drop to the ground. The home run hero had recovered, but didn't account for anyone that might have been approaching from behind his target. There were two such examples and when he took another big swing, he taught them the importance of keeping your eye on all sides of a fight. As they dropped, Kazuya sprung up from his duck with a magnificent uppercut which sent the betrayer sailing into the thick of the remaining combatants.
Deciding to hurry matters up, Kazuya leapt into the throngs, throwing punches, kicks and elbows at any within his range. The few armed in the crowd found their weapons turned against them, as they were either disarmed or accidentally struck their allies in the confusion. Within only a few minutes, the group of thirty had been reduced to three.
Stepping over a few unconscious unfortunates, he slowly approached the final trio, which was headed by the A+ student from earlier who'd mentioned the bounty pool a number of criminal organizations had put together for him dead or alive. Kazuya could feel the regret and unease coming off him in waves, and his expression looked to be a step or two shy of catatonic.
"Where'd all that bravado go? Splitting that reward three ways will be better, don't you think? At least the math will be easier for you."
The hood's face shifted to anger in a heartbeat at the verbal jab. He still didn't move to flee as Kazuya approached, which had to count for something. He was a tall bastard, shaved head with a few scars and arms absolutely covered in tattoos.
"Think you're so tough? Without that suit you aren't shit!" he spat at him.
"Yea, how bout you fight us like a man, huh? Or are you too scared of getting your ass handed to you?" one of the others spoke up.
Really? What did they think he was, eight? Might as well just call him a chicken or double dog dare him while they're at it.
Stopping a few meters away from the last three, Kazuya elected to make an example out of these idiots. Showing them how useless this whole farce had been would have to sink in at some point, right? Maybe even get them to turn their lives around, make better choices? Yea, it was about as likely as teaching a fish the finer points of germ theory but his family didn't raise a quitter!
"I should apologize." he said with a bow.
The confusion on all of their faces was golden, and it took a hell of a lot of willpower to not break out into a laughing fit. At least his helmet meant he didn't have to stay stone face. He couldn't wipe the smile off his face if he tried.
"What?" came their expectedly stupefied reply.
"Honestly, like I barge in here, make demands, beat up everybody. What kind of guest does that?"
"A goody two-shoes who doesn't know how to leave people to their business?" the seemingly bravest thug spoke up.
"Exactly! What business of mine is it if you want to run an illegal fight club where anything goes? Shouldn't I just mind my own business? Who do I think I am?"
The trio was still a bit confused, understandably so, but since he hadn't yet moved to attack them, they'd eased up a bit.
"Well?" he asked, crossing his arms.
"Huh?" the largest one replied.
"I asked you a question. Who do I think I am?" He said slowly and deliberately, letting every word leave its own mark.
The trio looked to each other in confusion.
"Uh, some kind of hero?" one spoke up finally.
"Not exactly."
"A vigilante seeking his own brand of justice?" an eloquent answer, surprisingly, but wrong.
"Close. Let me give you a hint at the answer though." With that he began his approach again, stopping just out of arms reach. This unnerved the group again, but they still didn't move to fight or flee.
"What's my name?"
The question hung in the air for a moment before the lead gangster spoke up, and gave the answer they all knew from the start.
"Keikai."
The smile under his helmet grew, and Keikai could only think of one reply.
"And don't you forget it."
A fist swung out at near untraceable speeds, sending the taller criminal's head rocketing to the side, the force alone enough to knock him out before he hit the ground. The other two step back, but couldn't react quick enough. A knee planted in one of their guts put him down for the count, and the other received an open palm to the chest which blew him back several steps flat unto his back.
Before he could even think of recovering, Keikai was looming over him, motionless like some sort of slasher movie killer.
"Please, anything but the face man! It's all I've got going for me!"
Keikai's hand moved, and the thug instinctively covered his head, even though it wouldn't do anything to soften the blow. When no strike came after a few seconds, he slowly lowered his arms and looked up at the offered hand in front of him. Reaching up to grab it his hand was quickly slapped away.
"What are you doing?" the utter bewilderment in his voice was jarring.
"I... thought you were offering me a hand up?" It sounded stupid now that he said it out loud.
"Fuuuuuck no, why the hell would I do that? Hand over your phone." Keikaiimpatiently waved his hand.
"Oh, uh, sorry." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the demanded item, offering it up where it was swiped from his hand.
Tapping in a number Keikai had memorized by heart; he placed the phone on speaker.
"Hello?" came the curt reply from an even sounding middle-aged man.
"It's Keikai, Detective. I've got a bust for you."
A few seconds passed while the sound of shuffling papers was the only audible sound echoing throughout the dingy, body filled basement.
"Send me the address and I'll get the word out. What's the situation and how many perps?"
"Roughly 30. Make sure you bring a lot of cuffs, although they aren't exactly going to be resisting."
"What sort of operation is it?" the detective questioned as he could be heard giving hurried direction to others and moving about.
"Well, it was a fight club. Let's just say there isn't much fight left in them." Keikai replied as he dropped his knee onto the thug who he'd been standing over the last few moments, knocking him out as well.
"You're giving my officers a whole lot of paperwork and not enough leg work. They're going to start getting complacent soon enough."
Chuckling at the comment, the vigilante started to wonder the room. "Hey, once these clowns quit breaking the law where I can find them, I'll hand more work your way. Until them I'm going to do my thing."
"You won't hear any complaints on my end. You've really helped us clean up in spots we can't exactly reach what with all the red tape we have to contend with."
"Just call me The Janitor then."
That got a rare sound of mirth from the normally quiet detective. Even if it was just a small exhale of air, it was a win in his book.
"I'll keep the nickname in mind. Send me the details and we'll be there A.S.A.P."
"You got it, Sarashina."
Cutting the call, he quickly typed out the address he was at in a text and sent it off to the detective he made the most contact with. Once he got confirmation it had been received with a reply, he tossed the phone with little regard for where it landed.
Waltzing over to a corner he found the betting table tucked away, where interested parties could put money down on fights. It was covered in various slips, record binders and most importantly, cash.
Grabbing an empty envelope, Keikai began snatching up a selection of bills of varying denominations and sliding them in, until he could just barely close it. "Crime may not pay, but crime busting sure does." He laughed to himself as he admired his haul.
A pocket in the leg of his suit opened and he deposited the now fat envelope into it while the suit closed itself around it. Some might be upset by his actions, but it's not like anyone here was going to be using it, and besides the cops didn't need all of the money for evidence. Just enough so that they could nail everyone here with gambling charges, on top of everything else.
Heading out the door he entered through led him up to a rather dirty back alley just wide enough for a single car to pass through. He didn't envy the police and the struggle they'd have getting all those assholes out and loaded up, but they had unions and he didn't, so swings and roundabouts.
No Human Resources or personal representative he could file a complaint with. "Excuse me, but these law-breaking thugs are a real pain in my ass, could we get somebody down here to look into that?"
Leaping up and jumping off the opposite wall he landed on the roof with minimal impact. Looking out over the city all around him bathed in fading evening light from a view few others got as often as he did was sobering, and was just another benefit of his 'particular' profession.
It would be nice to share it with someone else sometimes though.
Catching himself he shook his head, as if the action would somehow remove the intrusive thought. What was up with him lately? A girlfriend? With how much time he spent on school, research at the lab and his 'extracurricular' endeavors, where the hell would he find the time for a girlfriend? Must have been from seeing so many couples around campus.
Vanishing once again he headed off to continue his patrol, all the while the sound of police sirens approached to deal with the aftermath of his efforts thus far tonight.
Arriving home late into the night he leapt up to his back door and entered into the darkened room. Recalling his suit, it retreated into him, separating into its individual microscopic components. Grabbing the envelope before it fell, he placed it on his bookshelf and headed for the bathroom, quickly disrobing as he went.
Throwing his rather sullied clothes into the hamper, he hopped in the shower to clean off the night's filth. As he washed himself, he had some time to consider the past few hours. An attempted mugging, a couple of train perverts and the highlight in the fight club. All things considered it could've been worse, and it never hurt when he got to just interact with people while out on a patrol. Most loved to get a picture with him or even ask him to sign something of theirs. When he started it was a little overwhelming, but he'd soon settled in to his role.
Exiting the bathroom with a cloud of steam dressed in shorts and a loose t-shirt he flopped into bed, grabbing his phone. As conceded as it might seem, he always liked to search the hashtag his self-appointed fans had started for him, #KEIKAI. It felt nice to see what people had to say, and even those that were 'less then kind', public opinion of him was important. There were a few selfies people had taken with him, thanks from the women he'd prevented from getting groped and even speculation that he'd been the one to bust up that fight club. Man, word really travelled fast online, huh?
It was a Friday night, so he had the weekend off school and with only a few hours' worth of homework he'd need something to keep him occupied the rest of the time he wasn't patrolling. As it happened, Kuri had told him about a new mobile game that sounded interesting, and he figured he'd give it a download it and check it out before bed.
"What was it called again? Diamond Battle? Diamond Legends?" he mumbled to himself.
Instead of trying to unsuccessfully recall the name of the app, he figured he'd just search 'Diamond' and see if he could find it.
After the search results loaded, the first one on the list drew his eye immediately.
"Diamond Rental Girlfriends?"
Standing outside of the station, Kazuya was seriously reconsidering the choice he made last night. Honestly, a rental girlfriend? If any of his friends found out they'd never let him hear the end of it!
Sighing to himself, he ran a hand through his short, black hair. It's not like he could cancel now, she was already on her way! Well, doing this once wasn't too bad. Getting the girlfriend experience would hopefully get his mind off of thoughts of a relationship so he could focus on more important matters.
"Hello. You must be Kazuya, right?"
Looking up from his phone, he looked over towards the voice and saw her. She was standing just a few steps away as she brushed a few errant stands of hair behind her ear.
"Hello, I'm Chizuru Mizuhara."