Part Two


Chapter Twenty-One

Yare, yare. Mine is not supposed to be a fighting anime.


Spirit Gun

The purple-haired salary man didn't back down or balk or even look on in casual disinterest. Instead, he laughed.

"Oh, kid. You really think you're some sort of hero, don't you?" He shook his head, snickering. "You haven't a single clue."

Trailing his hand up Teruhashi's back, he traced his fingers over her shoulder and caught her chin, forcing her to look at him. "What about you, gorgeous? You think your man over there is a hero?"

"Hey, now," someone called from behind, his voice uncomfortable. "You're going to far now. Sure, the chick's a tease, but that doesn't give you the right to treat her the way you are."

Kusuo glanced back to find an older man with a bushy mustache, maybe about his father's age, frowning uncomfortably. It wasn't the same stone-faced vehemence most bystanders had when Teruhashi was in trouble, but at least it was something. All around the crowded train, others nodded in agreement with the first man, and Kusuo swallowed down a disgusted grumble. None of them could be bothered to help when Teruhashi was on her own, but now that he'd showed up, suddenly they're interested in her wellbeing again?

Shaking his head, Kusuo turned his attention back to Purple-hair. Don't question it, idiot. Use it.

Purple-hair sighed and rolled his eyes. "You know what, kid? Fine. I'll give you a chance to defend your ladylove. It's been a while since I've had a challenge anyway."

He tweaked Teruhashi's chin as he turned to her, his face only centimeters from hers. "Give me a minute, gorgeous. I'll be right back."

Kusuo started to say something unaccountably witty, but a sudden pulse cut him off. The world seemed to freeze, then crack around him like a broken mirror, and he would swear that the color of everything had inverted as he and the rest of the car's inhabitants stood still. The entire sensation was crazy as shit and completely unmistakable.

Purple-hair had just opened a psychic territory.

The world reset, but the steady rumble of the train rolling over tracks was gone. The world around Kusuo remained completely frozen, and the unmoving train was entirely empty save Kusuo and Purple-hair. Kusuo spun around, his heartbeat so loud in the utter stillness and quiet that it actually echoed through the empty car.

"Well then," Purple-hair's voice had a sonorous echo that made Kusuo spin around in near panic because the man sounded suddenly huge. Purple-hair grinned at Kusuo's skittishness, not any taller or broader than he'd been before the world went insane. He spoke again, and his voice still sounded large, but it was less all-encompassingly huge now that Kusuo could see him talking. "Welcome to my territory, punk."

"What is this place?" Kusuo said, forcing his eyes to stay fixed on Purple-hair instead of darting around the empty, frozen world. "What did you do with Teruhashi and Yuuta?"

"Oh, don't worry." Purple-hand held out his arms, palms up, and smirked. "They're still right here; we just can't see them. And more importantly, they can't see us."

Kusuo didn't relax, his hands still clenching and unclenching as heat buzzed through his veins, adding to the red mist rising from his skin, which he now realized hadn't been his imagination. He wondered for a moment if his rising temperature was boiling his blood to steam and releasing it through his pores, but that was completely stupid. It was something Nendou might come up with.

Instead, he almost recognized the sensation from all those years of using his psychic powers. It wasn't exactly the same as his psychic aura, but it wasn't entirely different either. It was less than what he'd had before, but not new or different. The best he could come up with was a bowl of ramen. The noodles and add ins were all gone now, leaving only stock, but the broth was what gave everything its flavor from the start.

Kusuo looked down at his hands and realized the red wasn't wispy or smoke-like after all, but instead a faint, almost flickering glow. Spirit Energy.

He clenched his fists again, but this time from triumph. He looked up at Purple-hair with a smirk that was almost the beginnings of a grin. Screw your territory. All you've done is made it easier for me to go all out when I kick your ass.

And now he sounded like Shun. Fantastic.

Purple-hair frowned. "What are you grinning about? Don't you understand what you've gotten yourself into? We're in a completely different dimension from where we were before. Time means nothing here, and the only way back is if I release my territory, which I can keep open for three whole days. By the time we get back, you'll be nothing but a terrorized lump on the floor begging my forgiveness." He snickered. "I'd teach you to call me Master like the others, but I prefer female subs."

Kusuo's heart stuttered at that, and he blinked at Purple-hair in disbelief. "What?"

"Don't tell me you're just now realizing?" Purple-hair scoffed as he shrugged off his suit coat to drape across one of the empty seats. "I already said this world is a separate dimension. Time means very little here because no time will have passed when we go back. I was originally planning to bring your girl here, like all the others, but I like the idea of you knowing what she'll be in for once I finally let you out." His smirk deepened to a dark grin of wicked satisfaction.

"That way, when she suddenly collapses into a huddled ball of terror and shame, you'll know exactly why she'll never be able to touch you or look at you or even stay in the same room as you ever again. And every time you think of her, you'll think of me, and you'll remember the time she and I spent here...getting to know each other."

Horrified disgust twisted Kusuo's insides into a mangled knot as his mind oh-so-helpfully provided visuals to coincide with Purple-hair's commentary. "You...you utter fucking bastard."

Purple-hair actually laughed. "Why yes, I am a fucking bastard. And a damn good one, if I do say so myself."

Kusuo threw himself forward, his mind blank and his body on autopilot. He had no plans, only a driving, instinctual need to make sure this monster could never again hurt another person. Especially not Teruhashi. He moved faster than Purple-hair expected judging by his widened eyes and gaping mouth, but he got a half-assed block up just quick enough to deflect Kusuo's punch away from his face. Instead, Kusuo caught him in the shoulder, and Purple-hair screamed as his shoulder crunched and popped. He leaped back, cradling his dislocated shoulder, and stared at Kusuo with bewildered blinks.

"Wha—You—How did you...?"

"You said the only way to get back is if you release your territory, but I don't have to wait for you to grow a conscience." Kusuo straightened, his fist up and ready for another punch. "Your territory will release on its own once you're dead."

Terror settled on Purple-hair's face, and his eyes darted around the empty train for an escape. Seeing none, his attention settled back on Kusuo with a dark scowl.

"You think you scare me, punk? I was the king of my high school back in Mushiori City. You may have gotten in a lucky blow, but don't think I'll go easy on you—"

Kusuo shot forward from the balls of his feet, his speed enhanced by a clumsy push of half-controlled spirit energy. It worked a bit like psychic energy, but it wasn't as easy to mold to his will. He could feel the energy inside him, writhing to escape, but it didn't know how. It needed clearer direction than just his thoughts. It needed something more concrete. It needed words.

Looking up at Purple-hair, his sputtered quick-step sending him to a blurred, stumbling stop onto his knees at the man's feet, Kusuo concentrated all the spirit energy he could wrangle into the tip of his index finger and brought it up to point directly between Purple-hair's eyes. The faint red glow looked no larger than a pin-tip, but that was fine. As much as Kusuo wanted the guy dead, he didn't want to kill him.

Purple-hair looked down at Kusuo, his purple eyes a mixture of awe, terror, and confusion. Kusuo frowned and reached for the invisible trigger with his mind before pulling it with his words.

"Spirit gun."

The pinprick of light exploded, and Purple-hair screamed as his territory shattered around them.

#

The real world snapped back into focus with the roar of the train rumbling across the tracks mixed with the uncertain buzz of passengers debating whether or not they should step in and stop Teruhashi from being harassed. The soft buzz shifted to an alarmed chorus of staccato cries as Purple-hair let out a pained yelp and dropped to the floor unconscious. He nearly dragged Teruhashi down with him thanks to his grip on her waist, but Kusuo snagged her arm and pulled her hard against his chest. She yelped and tried to fight until Kusuo grabbed her flailing hand.

"Calm down, Teruhashi; it's me."

"Saiki-kun!" Teruhashi breathed as she slumped against him in relief. Kusuo easily adjusted for her boneless weight, which really wasn't much. She looked up at him with a confused frown, then down at her unconscious captor. "What happened?"

Kusuo shrugged as he watched one of the other passengers check Purple-hair for a pulse. "Who knows."

Teruhashi looked up again, her frown more pronounced. "Saiki-kun…"

He shook his head. Later, he thought at her out of habit.

She nodded slowly in understanding, which should have surprised but didn't. It did unnerve him, though. When had they gotten to know each other so well they could talk without words?

Mentally shaking off his uncertainty, Kusuo set Teruhashi back on her feet and looked at the man checking Purple-hair over. It was the same bushy-stashed man who had objected—If you can even call it that—to Purple-hair manhandling Teruhashi.

"Is he alive?" Kusuo asked, more curious than concerned. He'd already noted that Purple-hair's shoulder wasn't dislocated, which it should have been if they had actually been transported to a different dimension.

"Yeah," Bushy-stash said. "But he's out cold, and I think he's in shock." He looked up, a faint glint of satisfaction in his eyes despite the concerned frown on his lips. Kusuo bit down a scowl. He hated duplicitous people who said one thing on the outside but another thing internally. He especially disliked Bushy-stash because he had the audacity to look silently smug, like he'd actually done a single thing to stop Purple-hair from attacking Teruhashi in the first place.

It's people like you who made me hate my telepathy.

"Is there a doctor on board?" Bushy-stash called, and a murmur went up. Someone volunteered to check the other cars while a short blonde girl mentioned telling the conductor or one of the ticket checkers. Everyone else either floated back to their seats or hovered uselessly over Purple-hair, who had gone ghostly and had a sheen of cold sweat filming his face and neck.

"Come on," Kusuo murmured as he nudged Teruhashi back toward their seats. The lingering crowd parted for them, many of the men looking away from Teruhashi in shame or glaring at Kusuo as if blaming him for rescuing her. He had a sudden realization that several of these men were probably waiting for Teruhashi to be in even more trouble than she already had been so they could swoop in and rescue her.

Molten anger erupted in his gut, and Kusuo stared those creeps down with spirit energy rising off his skin, making his hair flutter in an artificial wind. There was a collective stunned blink before each of those men looked away. One was so affected, he actually started trembling.

Bastards.

"Peach-T Girl!" Yuuta rocketed from the seat Kusuo had ordered him to stay on. He slammed into Teruhashi's chest, driving her back into Kusuo's.

"Yuuta," Kusuo scolded. "How many times—?"

"Sorry!" Yuuta interrupted. "I'm sorry." He looked up from where he'd buried his face in Teruhashi's stomach. He grinned widely but there were remnants of tears clinging to the corners of his eyes. "I knew Cyborg Cider-man #2 would save you Peach-T Girl, just like last time! But that guy…he was really scary, wasn't he, Cyborg Cider-man #2?"

Kusuo blinked. How—?

The car doors opened on both sides and a slew of medical professionals entered. Some wore J-Rail uniforms, but there were a few who looked more like passengers. One man with slicked back hair and a fitted suit with a slim red tie knelt at Purple-hair's side and reached for his pulse. Red-tie flinched back the moment his fingers touched Purple-hair's skin. A flash of surprise flitted across his face, and he glanced up, searching the car for…something. He must not have found it because he frowned, shook his head, and went back to examining Purple-hair.

"Come on," Kusuo said, nudging Teruhashi to grab her bag while he lifted Yuuta into his arms and shouldered both Yuuta's backpack and his own duffle bag. "We're moving to a different car."