Being strong isn't the only thing that makes you a man
"Tell me what I'm looking at."
He glanced up, hands on his hips, an expression of doubt on his face, the first signs of white in his dark hair, and Daishinji Tetsuo held back a smile, instead reaching forward, tapping the table with two fingers, drawing his friend's attention back to the scattering of colourful cards.
"If you're going to tell me they're playing cards, I can see that, I'm not stupid." Oogami reached down and picked one up, turning it over in his hands. "I've seen Sora and his friends playing with these things. What are they called? Yugi-something-or-other?"
Daishinji tried not to smile any more than he already was.
"They're different. These aren't for kids."
Oogami narrowed his eyes as he examined the card, the image of a weighty turtle, black shell shot through with orange and brown.
"Yeah, I know the kind of adults who collect this stuff. It still doesn't mean they're not for kids."
Daishinji reached for the card, plucking it from his friend's grasp, tossing it down onto the table amidst the others.
Doubt crossed his friend's face.
"I'm not convinced."
He reached down again, waved a hand at random, and plucked another card, lifting it up, looking at it, and then turning it so Daishinji could see it.
"Look at this guy. What's this guy about? You're telling me these aren't for kids?"
Despite himself, Daishinji found his smile broadening, his eyes alighting on the illustration, a bright red robot, his body a figure-eight.
"What's this guy's name?" Oogami muttered, flipping the card so he could read the title. "Robomaru. What kind of name is that?"
He dropped it down into the pile again, scooping up another, a black and white cat with broad feathered wings.
"What about this guy?"
A different approach was required, Daishinji decided, watching as this new card was returned also.
"Mei was asking after you."
Oogami made a small, boyish gesture of discomfort, reaching up with a hand, scratching the back of his head.
"That so?"
Daishinji nodded.
"That's so."
Oogami nodded too.
"Hmm. Well."
"You remember that business last year after Goutokuji died?"
Oogami's hand dropped away, his expression now somewhat more serious.
"Not well," he admitted.
A year older than Oogami, they had both known Goutokuji Takeshi for as long as the man had been a Kamen Rider. The events surrounding their first meeting were hazy though, almost as if something was preventing them from recalling how first they had met—a spell, a curse maybe.
"No, me neither," Daishinji admitted, "but Mei remembers, and I know she's not telling us everything, but what I do remember…"
He stopped, falling short of what he was going to say.
"Someone was making people into Kamen Riders for fun," Oogami said for him.
He reached into the pocket of his trowsers and tossed something hard onto the table, a marble perhaps. Daishinji watched it bounce once, spinning briefly before rolling to a stop amidst the cards, a small ball of immaculate white and mint green, a stylised polar bear.
Daishinji nodded reluctantly.
"The Southern Base said as much as well. Lilith won't confirm it, but she thinks whatever happened last year has awoken something old, something dangerous."
From the inside of his worn leather jacket, he pulled out a crumpled Polaroid, three figures in motion, lace and silk, a glimpse of gold amongst the black.
Oogami frowned as he looked down at the photo.
"They're just kids."
"They're older than us," Daishinji said darkly. "Far, far older."
Oogami said nothing, again picking up a card, a familiar image, white metal, mismatched eyes, somewhere between green and gold.
"Shirowe," he said softly, the image of the armour that Goutokuji had worn, the armour he had briefly inherited, the memories impossible for him to recall.
"All of these cards represent unique magical functions," Daishinji continued. "If we could collect them, if we kind bind them together—"
Oogami looked up sharply.
"They'd be like pages of a book," he said, catching on quickly.
Daishinji nodded with enthusiasm.
"We could make new Wonder Ride Books."
"And that would give us the upper hand against this ancient evil the Southern Base is all up in arms about, right?"
He brought his hand down on the Polaroid, two fingers blotting out the details of the poorly photographed women.
With approval, Daishinji nodded, folding his arms across his chest.
"Looks like you can still teach the old dog new tricks."
"I'm the teacher here," Oogami protested.
"What does that make me?" Daishinji ventured.
Oogami's expression softened slightly.
"Someone who has gotten better at asking for help."
There was silence for a moment save for the sound of a radio playing softly in the adjoining kitchen, an old song, a sad song. The moment's poignance was broken as Oogami laughed and gestured towards the colourful mess of cards sprawled out across the table.
"Now, get these cards out of here before Sora comes home. If he sees them, he'll want to get involved."