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It was past eleven that night, when the screen flashed up in the semi-darkness. Slowly, he poked out from underneath his wing and crawled over the bed to his phone. He picked it up. With lazy swipes, he went into his mail. There, black on white, six words were outlined.
Dagobah Municipal Beach Park.
12 AM
Come alone.
Keigo grinned. With renewed strength he took a leap off his bed and went for his wardrobe. Frowning, he picked his phone up again and sent a mail back.
What’s the dress-code for the evening? ; )
Just as he had already settled on his trademark tan, high-collared jacket, with black pants and a white shirt for a touch of formality, the screen lit up again.
How about you come naked, and we’ll for sure not be interrupted again.
Keigo laughed and threw his jacket on. Last time, he had made the mistake of calling her name out near a mall, much forgetting how his wings was a beacon in the dark in betraying his identity. He had counted exactly three seconds, before a crowd of ecstatic fans had gathered around him like dogs round a food stand. Though flattering, the timing could have been better.
She had slipped away in the crowd, as invisible to them as ever.
He fastened the NIP-H1 handy recorder in his pocket, before taking to the air. Within a minute, the beach park was within visibility. Once riddled with rusty cars and city-waste, it was now practically spotless. A testament to the true heroism of civilians, not to mention environmental activists, Keigo thought, as he touched down on the sand. Momentarily, he questioned her judgement at choosing such an open place. Did she fear for her safety?
He could ask her himself. She was sitting on the gazebo railing, playing on her phone, and turned to face him as she heard his footsteps over the wooden bridge.
“Nice place,” he smiled pleasantly. “Kinda open though. Expected an alley.” Emiko did not answer. She swiped around on her phone. Keigo regarded her with a raised brow. Out of her UA uniform, she was dressed in all the blacks he would expect of the more morally ambiguous of Musutafu’s population. A slight breeze ruffled his feathers and he let a couple of them drift down to water-level, ready in positions of combat should things turn ugly. His gaze drifted to the folder in her arms.
Finally, she put her phone down. She looked up at him with an unreadable expression. Her mismatched, black and blue eyes had thrown him off the first time, but now he met her hard gaze with a casual smile of his own.
“I don’t do alleys. And meetings with strangers in such discreet locations tend to end the same way horror films do,” she said with a shrug.
“Come on, I thought we were past that stage now,” Keigo replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.
It had been a cold winter evening. With frozen feathers tucked inside a jacket too big for him, and a desperate need for a break, Keigo had stumbled into a bar in the city’s more suspicious alleys. He had made a discovery that day: beer should not be served warm.
He had also discovered of a fifteen-year-old part-time-working jazz singer with the wits, mind and alcohol tolerance of an adult. He had followed her to a crossroads, intrigued by her total ignorance in regards of basic, everyday news and common knowledge. She had not recognised him, and it was a pleasant change, which opened the opportunity for casual conversation. If nothing else, it had been an overtime-related duty, as he had not trusted her safety after parting and followed from the air. The UA dormitories were not where he had expected her to head.
Keigo held her gaze for a second longer than necessary. Proper connection tended to put people at ease. “I followed you because I worried,” he said gently. “Under-age girl in a bar. Working. I saw the way those street thugs looked at you too.”
“Well, I’m safe and sound, and I’ve not you to thank for that,” she shrugged. “So, tell me what you really want.”
Keigo hesitated for a second. Then he started rummaging around in his pockets. “Well, one could say I was intrigued. So, I made some research of my own. Had some time to kill for once. But then the weirdest stuff showed up.” He said, as he produced a neatly folded paper from them.
“‘Emiko Kaneko. Rented property in Musutafu, Tatoniu Street 13b. Now, the legal age of property rental in Japan is at twenty, but more alarming is the contact established in your previous home: Kabukicho, Tokyo. The largest red-light district in the world, even to this day.”
He looked up at her. “It’s all a rather out-of-the-ordinary profile for an aspiring hero.” He shrugged. “And thing is, we met back in winter, remember? At the bar. That’s not a good crowd to hang out with. Especially not to drink with.” He shrugged. “I haven’t talked to the UA about this, ‘cause, you know, I’m not a faculty member, (thank God for that), but consumption of alcohol below the age of twenty and renting of apartments are both illegal last I checked. Makes me wonder if there’s more going on, and if so. Like, who’s paying the rent.”
He paused, awaiting an answer with a tilted head. Emiko had started picking at the edges of the folder and displaying a sudden, avid interest in the floorboards. Now she looked up with a guarded gaze. “What good detective-work. Bit of wasted free-time though. You should’ve checked with me first, Mr. Stalker.”
She tossed the folder at him. He caught it with an elegant motion. Opening it, he found a series of formal-looking documents, all with various signatures and fine prints. Emiko nodded towards it. “There you go,” she said. “The contract for rental of apartment. My paychecks. The contract of employment. I’m not sure you’re aware, that with parental submission and certificate of certainty that your financial situation is secure, you can legally live alone, even below twenty.”
Keigo cast a few glances over the paperwork. Seemed legit. Even had the names of some obscure lawyers and officials printed on as witnesses, as much as he trusted that these were real people. He threw the folder back to her. She gave him a pleasant, false smile and nodded. “If that was that, I’ll just be going now.”
She strode past him, with certain and proud steps. Then Keigo spoke up. ‘Emi-chan’ was it?”
She stopped.
Keigo continued. “It’s what your employer called you. Nice guy. Not to me, but he sure could keep silent.” He turned back to her. With the street-lamps behind her, outlining her silhouette and sharpening the shadows, he could not make out her face. He continued, with all the calm of a sea expecting a storm.
“Now, I’m not pretending to be the strictest about the rules. Hell, I couldn’t even care less about your education, but I gotta admit,” he pointed at her. “Your school’s got a problem.”
“And you’re pointing at me, ‘cause I’m the problem?” She cocked her head.
“No, no! I didn’t say anything like that!” Keigo laughed disarmingly. “It’s just, all these villain attacks, there’s reason to start worrying. If maybe, for all their security measures, it mightn’t be as secure as they thought. Nonsense, yeah? So thought I. I mean, high-schoolers as undercover Bond-agents, spying for the enemies of society under the pretence of law-abiding, hero-inspiring students,” he fixed her with a casual, though tensed stare. “Crazy, yeah?”
Emiko paused. She regarded him with a look of cautionary wariness. “Sure is. Sounds like the bad plot from Hollywood.”
Keigo snapped his fingers. “Good comparison! Bad plot from Hollywood. Maybe some half-baked online conspiracy theory or fanfiction,” he let out a disarming laugh. Then gave her a lopsided grin. “Anyways. How much of it is true?”
Emiko smiled. Then, a slow, humourless chuckle that soon rose to laughter. “You, you think I’m selling out my school? That the education I worked just too hard for, is something I’d throw away for, what? Money? Ideologies? Some rotten political statement from terrorists? Those are some fat, far-fetched accusations, and if you’re about to bring that trouble down on me, then you better have some goddamn good proof!” She snarled at him, ready to run and fists clenched. Some feathers flew by and landed calmly by her feet.
Keigo waved her angered words away dismissively. “No, no!” He chuckled nervously. “I’m not accusing you of anything. Hell, it’d make for a great origin story. Real superhero-like, fighting crime in your neighbourhood and all. But it’s also the one profile that fits among the student body, as far as I know,” he shrugged.
“Oh, drop the act, wipe that smirk off your face and call a spade a spade” she growled. “You’re accusing me attending high school under false pretences and collaborating with an organisation of criminals. If you’ve proof, show it, and stop dancing ‘round the bush.”
Keigo frowned at her. Scratching his chin, he shrugged. “Proof? Haven’t got any. Again, haven’t talked to the UA, as it really shouldn’t be my business. For all we know, they’ve already ratted out the mole.”
“Well then it’s all fine and dandy, isn’t it?” She glared at him. “My papers are in order. And you’ve nothing but baseless speculation, but I’ve a test tomorrow, and Aizawa will have my hide if I show up late again,” she turned to walk away. But then she paused for a second, as though a thought crossed her mind. “Takami Keigo, was it? Perhaps you’re better off spending your free-time without a computer screen before you. My past is my own. You’ve no right to disturb it.”
Keigo smiled without humour or sincerity. “Wrong. As a hero, it is my job.” Emiko was about to retort viciously to that, when Keigo continued with uncharacteristic softness to his voice. “I dunno just what kind of people you’re around. Or if you got caught up in something unwillingly. The League, or whatever. But I know what they’re like. The red-light districts. And perhaps heroes could’ve done more, if businesses there weren’t legal. They’re protected by the laws we uphold. That doesn’t mean they upkeep any laws themselves,” he said.
“I’ve seen what kind of evil the people we’re supposed to protect can commit there. It’s all fun and games until somebody slips something in a drink. Until somebody decides to bet their family’s future on the toss of a coin. Until somebody forgot common decency and their wallet at home,” he almost mumbled, the clucking of water nearly drowning out his words.
Emiko was picking at her clothing, eyes cast down. She had not moved, and as Keigo took a step forward, she did not turn away. He reached out a hand to touch her shoulder. “Heroes are here to help. And villains don’t always come with cheap dress-ups and an evil laugh.”
A moment of tense silence passed between them. Keigo withdrew his hand as she looked up. She nodded with a frown. “Sure is. The most heinous of villains don suits, not costumes. They sit behind mahogany desks in skyscrapers. Not on the filthy city-streets.”
She met his eyes again. They bore a melancholy, though too strength more often seen in adults. “I’m afraid you’re a little too late, though,” she smiled cynically. “I don’t need you. I don’t need any ‘League of Villains’ either. Once, I might’ve sympathised with them, but not anymore. I saved myself. And that, the knowledge that I did, that it was I and not some social justice fighter in comedy dress-up, that is all I need to keep going.”
With that, she turned to finally return to the dormitories. She checked her watch. If she was quick, she would be back before Aizawa was wiser, and nobody else would ever know what had transpired.
“You know,” she said. “Most heroes in Kabukicho didn’t care much. They only stepped in once a scandal was big enough to get them some sweet media attention. Didn’t use to think much of heroes, honestly, before meeting Aizawa. You’re not too bad though. Hope you keep it up.” She strolled back across the wooden bridge and jumped down on the sand. Within short, she was gone, past the stairs, towards the train station.
Keigo did not bother to follow this time. Instead, he took a moment to close his eyes and lean on the gazebo. Around him, the water clucked pleasantly against the stones. The wind was as still as after a storm, and the night pleasantly chill. At last, he retrieved his NIP-H1 handy recorder from his pocket.
“I don’t need any ‘League of Villains either’. Once, I might’ve sympathised with them, but not anymore. I saved myself.” The recording ruined the perfect silence of nature. Without further ado, Keigo retrieved the memory card from the device and broke it in half, before walking back to the beach and throwing it in the trashcan.
There was no need to sully an otherwise perfectly clean beach with such garbage.